I'm writing my next summer book titledBeach House for Hire, which is the conclusion of my The Beach Firm Series–The Beach Business firm, Beach House Memories, andPond Lessons.  I find myself filled with all the strong feelings again I take for the characters: Lovie, Cara, Brett, Toy, Little Lovie. And the sweet Primrose Cottage that, though a house, became a character in the series.

I've just returned home this calendar week from fleeing Hurricane Matthew and outside my window the sounds of chain saws fill the air as neighbors and work crews come together to repair the damages left in the wake of the tempest. I thought how very much like the opening of Beach Business firm Memories it all is!  Thankfully, our island sustained minimal hurricane harm this time. But I thought it'd be fun to share with you the opening of Beach House Memories to share with you life mail hurricane–and bring to heed the characters nosotros will revisit next summer when Beach House for Hireis released.

summer books

Beach Business firm MEMORIES
past Mary Alice Monroe
Published 2012 Gallery Books

Affiliate One

Lovie Rutledge believed memories were like the tides. Sometimes they rushed in with a pounding roar to topple yous over.  At other times they gently washed over you, lulling you to self-approbation then tugging y'all dorsum, back to halcyon days that, with the passing of years, seemed fifty-fifty sweeter.

She seemed to spend more fourth dimension with her memories of late, especially on evenings such as this when the sun was a red orb that lazily descended over the Intracoastal Waterway and the jeweled tones of the sky deepened.  From the trees the pensive cries of birds called all to habitation. Lovie sat on the windward porch, still and silent, attuned to the moody hour.  Dusk was her favorite time of the day, an introspective hr when the sky brought downwardly the curtain on what she knew were her final days.

Lovie leaned her snowy white caput against her chair, gave a slight push with her foot, and sighed as she rocked back and forth in a rhythmic motion, like the waves slapping against the shore.  A small smiling eased across her face up.

Peace, at final, she thought.

The wailing winds of the hurricane that had diddled beyond her small-scale island a week earlier had left in its wake the incessant guttural roar of chain saws.  The Isle of Palms had been pummeled, as had about of the South Carolina coast.  Information technology would take weeks to clean up. As though in apology, Female parent Nature graced the island with crisp, later on-tempest breezes that spurred the populace to a frenzy of repairs. Lovie was glad for the action–the bellowing of voices, honking of horns, laughter of children, whoops from the embankment, high pitched calls of greeting as families returned home from evacuation.  She heard in the noise the shared exuberance of hope.

And yet, Lovie longed for the hush and lull of stride that came at the 24-hour interval's terminate.

Cease your complaining, one-time woman, she admonished.  You should be grateful that you wake up at all!  Bird call or hammering on forest–whichever! The sounds of life around her were welcome–specially at present every bit death hovered similar a thief, waiting for its opportunity to snatch her last breath abroad.

Lovie sunk deeper into the cushion and let her tired body ease as she stared out again at a riot of flowers, and beyond, the sea.  The Atlantic Sea breathed like a serene beast snoring in the distance.  The gentle rolling h2o cloaked all the secrets it held, while the earth revealed all.  Ah, but she wasn't fooled by her onetime friend.

I thought you were going to accept my business firm with this last tempest–and me forth with it, she idea with a faint chuckle. Well, I cheers for leaving usa exist.  At least for a little while longer.  She sighed and kicked off again with her foot. I've known yous too long and too well not to exist wise to your mercurial nature.  You announced so gentle and peaceful tonight.  But Lord assist the fool who ignores you.

Lovie all of a sudden coiled in a spasm of coughing that wracked her frame, so thin now she could be mistaken for a child.  When at terminal the fit subsided, she aptitude forward, clasping the arms of the chair, gasping for air.

"Mama!  Are you okay?"

Lovie turned her head to see Cara's worried face inches from her ain. She felt Cara'south larger hand tighten over hers in a reassuring clasp.  Dear, sweet, daughter, she thought as her pale blueish optics found refuge in Cara'south dark brown ones.  There were crow's feet at the corners, calculation maturity to the wide-eyed worry.  Cara had been dismayed at turning forty, crying that her youth was over and how she was on the downhill slope.  Lovie knew better.  Cara was still then young!  So strong and confident. Lovie felt the panic that always came with the cough spells loosen its grip.  Gradually her breath came more than easily.

She nodded weakly.

Cara's eyes narrowed, quickly checking for signs that Lovie needed oxygen or a dose of pain medication.  "Mama, it's getting dank.  Permit'south go inside."

Lovie didn't accept the breath to answer, but she weakly shook her head no.

Cara hesitated, then with a tsk of mild frustration, she didn't forcefulness the upshot, every bit she might accept just months before.

Lovie leaned back again in her chair.  Staring at her from the settee beyond the room was a big calico cat.  The true cat had mysteriously appeared after the hurricane, lost and mewling piteously. Cara fed her daily, cleaned upwards subsequently her, and petted her long fur whenever she passed.  Cara called the cat, "The Uninvited Invitee," and pretended not to care one way or the other nigh her.  Only Lovie could tell she was secretly pleased the true cat had decided to stay.  It was Cara's first pet.

Cara was rather similar that true cat, Lovie thought with some amusement.  The previous May, Lovie had asked her only daughter to come home for a visit.  She hadn't thought Cara would come.  They'd been estranged for some twenty years and Cara was always too busy.  Lovie had prayed that she and her headstrong daughter could patch up their differences before she died.  How did ane reconcile after so long a time?  Information technology was in faith that she'd written, and Cara had come. In a twist of fate, Cara had been laid off from her high powered chore at an advertising agency in Chicago. She'd arrived at Lovie's door at the onset of summertime feeling lost and restless, uncharacteristically adrift.  She'd stayed the summertime on Island of Palms, ostensibly to take care of her female parent.  And all the same, over the by months Cara, similar the lost cat, had been cared for, stroked, needed.  The summer had made Cara wiser and more content– non so quick to chase the mouse.

And in the process, she'd rediscovered her mother'due south love. This had been the respond to Lovie'south prayers.

It was autumn now, however, and with the season's end Lovie's force was ebbing with the receding tide.  She had terminal cancer and both she and Cara knew that soon the Lord would call her home.

"Okay, Mama," Cara conceded, patting Lovie's hand.  "We'll sit down out here a lilliputian longer. I know you hate to miss a sunset. Would y'all similar a cup of tea?  I'll make you lot one," she replied, not waiting for an answer.

Lovie didn't want tea just at present, simply Cara needed something to practice.  Though they didn't say the words often, Lovie knew that Cara expressed her love with action. Cara rose effortlessly from the chair, a move Lovie could inappreciably recall being able to make.

Cara was strikingly good looking, tall and slender with glossy night hair she usually wore pulled back in a carefree ponytail.  Just tonight was libation and the humidity depression so she let it fall unkempt to her shoulders.  It swayed in rhythm with the few long strides it took her to cross the wooden porch.

Her gaze swept across the porch of her beloved embankment business firm that was showing signs of historic period. Time… it passed then apace!  Where did all the years go?  How many summers had this love house survived? How many hurricanes?  Two white wooden rocking chairs saturday adjacent where mother and daughter sat most nights to enjoy the lowcountry sunset.  The recent hurricane had destroyed her pergola, and the new screens Cara had only installed hung in tattered shreds, waving uselessly in the offshore breezes. She heard the teasing hum of a mosquito in her ear.

Her little firm on Body of water Boulevard had e'er been a place of refuge for Lovie, a sanctuary through good times and bad, always since childhood.  In the twilight the quaint and tidy lines of her 1930s beach cottage appeared office of the indigenous landscape abreast the tall palms, the raucous wildflowers, clumps of sea oats and wild grasses on the dunes.  This late in Oct, the sweetgrass was a breathtaking explosion of cotton candy pink. From her seat on the porch she could see directly out to the Atlantic Bounding main without the obstruction of one of those enormous houses that bordered the island'southward coastline.  Information technology was the same view she'd e'er had, all these many years. When the wind gusted, it rippled across the tall, soft grass like rosy waves and carried her back to happier days when the island was a remote outpost.

Lovie's parents had given the minor, pre-war cottage to her when she'd married and she, in turn, would go out it to her daughter.  Her house on Tradd Street in Charleston with the heirloom furniture and silvery she had already handed down to her son, Palmer. In one case upon a fourth dimension she'd loved that house with a grand passion, yet never every bit much as she'd loved Primrose Cottage.  She'd created wonderful memories hither.  The best…

Click here to encounter my complete list of book titles. Beach Business firm FOR Rent volition exist released in summertime 2017. Coming soon on October. 25th, A LOWCOUNTRY CHRISTMAS in stores nationwide. Click here to read an excerpt.