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I laugh. “We can’t live in the restaurant, sweetheart. But we’ll look around more when we leave here. Maybe we’ll even spend the night.”
“Is there an affordable motel nearby?” I ask Amber when she comes back to check on us.
Amber shakes her head. “Sorry. The absence of hotels and resorts has kept our quiet town from turning into a resort destination.” She props herself against the bar. “You could try Myrtle’s Bed and Breakfast though. Take a right onto Main Street and go about a half mile. Her house is on the left, just as you enter the historic section. It’s real pretty with wraparound porches.” She lowers her voice. “FYI, the rooms in the main house need updating. The cottages out back are newer.”
“Good to know. Is it expensive?” I say, popping the last bite of my burger into my mouth.
“I have no idea what her rates are. Since summer is officially over today, she may be lowering them.” Amber pushes herself off the bar and sashays away.
We finish our lunch and pay for the meal. As we’re exiting the parking lot, I ask Conrad in the rearview mirror, “Which way, Buddy?”
He grins at the use of his nickname. “That way.” He points out the far window. “Across the bridge.”
We cross the sound and drive south for about a mile on Beach Drive. Locating a public access, we walk down the boardwalk, take off our shoes, and dig our feet in the sand. Conrad spreads his arms wide like wings and zooms around the beach, mimicking the seagulls. My heart sings as I watch him. After months of being cooped up, he can be a rambunctious little boy again.
We spend hours splashing in the surf, building sandcastles, and searching for shells. Our clothes are wet and sandy, our cheeks pink from the sun, but I haven’t felt this alive since our ordeal started last May. While my intuition tells me Water’s Edge is a good fit for us, we must overcome several major hurdles before I can make the final decision.
Myrtle, a tiny woman with a neat silver-streaked bob, greets us in the foyer when we arrive at her bed and breakfast. “Welcome to Myrtle’s. Are you interested in a room for the night?”
“We would love to stay here, although I’m not sure I can afford your rates.”
Her smile reaches her warm brown eyes. “You’re in luck. Most of my guests checked out today, and I have several cottage rooms available. I can offer you our offseason rate.”
Even with the discount, the room is more than I want to spend on accommodations. But it’s late in the day, and we have nowhere else to go. “Thank you, Myrtle. We’d like a room for three nights.”
The prepaid credit cards Eleanor gave me didn’t last long, and I’m down to my last six hundred dollars. Water’s Edge is the remote, small town I was hoping for, and I’m putting all my eggs in one basket. I have until Thursday to figure out my life.
Myrtle leads us past a sweeping staircase, out the back door, and down a garden path to a wood-framed cottage. Located on the first floor, our room features two queen beds and a sitting room that opens onto a small brick patio. After showing me the idiosyncrasies of the room, she hands me a key and invites us to join her for breakfast in the morning on the porch.
“That sounds lovely,” I say. One less meal I have to pay for.
I wait until she’s gone before placing a call to the attorney working on my trust. When Rick Harvey doesn’t answer, I leave a detailed message. I didn’t expect him to be working on Labor Day, but when he hasn’t returned my call by noon on Tuesday, I call again, leaving a more urgent message.
As Amber predicted, the preschool has no openings for the fall semester. “But since we’re very early into the school year, there’s always a chance one of our students will drop out,” Betty Bleaker says.
“Do you have anyone else on the waiting list?” I ask.
“Not at the moment,” Betty says. “I need to meet your son before I can place him on the list. Are you available tomorrow morning for a tour?”
In other words, she wants to make certain Conrad is a suitable candidate for their program. “I can make that work.”
Conrad and I spend the afternoon looking for somewhere suitable to live. Available housing is limited in Water’s Edge. There are no apartment buildings offering modern conveniences and outdoor heated pools. A carriage house on the estate of a historic home has potential. But it’s only one bedroom and unfurnished. And I’m fresh out of furniture.
I also don’t have the money for the deposit and first month’s rent. I can’t even open a checking account with no money to fund it. I reach out to Rick Harvey three more times, pleading with him to call me back.
I’m near tears over breakfast at Myrtle’s on Wednesday morning. In twenty-four hours, we’ll be homeless. I don’t have the gas money to leave town, even if we had somewhere else to go. I could apply for the server job at The Nest, but who would watch Conrad while I’m at work? And where would we live until I earn the money for an apartment?
Our visit to the preschool goes well. Conrad engages the teacher and interacts with the other children. Betty Bleaker appears impressed with his advanced development. “I will add him to the waitlist for now, although I can’t guarantee anything will open for the fall. However, one of our families is relocating to Atlanta over the holidays, and I can offer him that spot for the spring term.”
January is only four months away. It’s not ideal, but I can make do. “That would be wonderful. Thank you so much.”
“I’ll need a deposit to hold the space. We can go to my office and do the paperwork.”
The bottom drops out of my stomach. I have no money for a deposit. “Can I take the paperwork home with me? I’m new to town, and I haven’t had a chance to open a checking account. I can drop the forms off later in the week.”
“Yes, dear. Of course,” Betty says and walks us to the school’s main entrance.
Conrad skips along beside me on the way to the car. “I like this school, Mommy. Can I go here?”
