Chapter 1

Some years summer seems to stick around longer than others and that’s fine by me. The best thing about it wasn’t hot days, but evenings that weren’t very cool. So, I could start my day early and without a parka. Walking two blocks east, I stopped at Franco’s house, picked up my board and paddle and continued up 25th Street to the beach. I crossed a deserted Palm Blvd to the access pathway and made my way onto the sand just as the sky began its turn from grey to pink. Trekking across tide-packed sand with sandpipers skittering up and down the beach looking for breakfast I looked out at the glassy sea and the possibility of a fast time.

Once school’s back in session it’s rare for me to have a weekday off and I planned to make the most of it. Pelicans streamed overhead in lengthy formations; the dawn patrol one local artist had called them. In knee-deep water, I dropped my board into the Atlantic and stepped on. I pushed off and paddled out through small choppy waves, my arms slowly warming to the task. By the time I’d cleared the tiny breakers the sand was gone from between my toes and I turned north toward Deewees Island for a ten-mile, two-hour workout.

After a typically erratic start I had settled into a good rhythm as I pulled abreast the red roofed house, I used to mark the start of my personal race and started my timer. Seven months ago, I’d started the season with a glassy smooth sea and a 2:15 time. I felt like I could hold a good speed for the ten-mile course and planned to shatter that time. A light offshore breeze was not enough to make a difference and a steady stream of dolphins traveling south helped occupy my mind.

The sun climbed slowly behind light cirrus clouds and would soon be blinding but not yet. In the distance in front of me I could see tiny fishing boats trolling south from parts unknown and I knew that behind me would be cargo ships entering Charleston Harbor. I let my mind wander around, flitting from an upcoming jujitsu tournament to my own students, my car in the shop, and the chores I could knock out in the afternoon to give me a free weekend. The trick was to let your mind wander enough so the workout wasn’t boring but not so much that you lost concentration on your pace.

Nearly an hour later, the sun cleared the clouds and I squinted toward Beachwood Villas on Isle of Palms and found my blue-roofed marker just in time to make my turn. I pivoted right and dug in, trying to regain my pace after a slowing turn but the wind had shifted and I couldn’t get my speed back. Maybe it had always been at my back and I hadn’t noticed. My watch showed just under an hour but I’d have to work hard to match my outbound speed. If I could I’d have my best time of the summer by nearly ten minutes. With the sun at my back I watched the early morning walkers slowly grow in number. Some walked for exercise and others meandered along the waterline, looking for shark’s teeth left behind at high tide during the night. There are sun-worshippers and beach people. These were beach people, my kind of people.

With the sun at my back, it was easier to see the beach and a couple of flags, one American and one the blue and white of South Carolina showed the wind wasn’t directly offshore but a front quartering wind, maybe two to three knots certainly enough to slow me on my way back. Making the round trip in under two hours was a fading hope but I kept working for it and with less than a half mile to go and my shoulders burning, I gave it everything I had, coasting past the red house in two hours and two minutes. Not bad with the breeze but still a bit disappointing.

I eased the short stretch to 25th Street and turned toward the beach and tried to time my approach so I could catch a wave to shore but they were so small and windblown that it didn’t really matter. I’d gotten a good workout, the sunrise was pretty, and any day that starts with dolphins and fishing boats is a good one. In knee deep water, I scooped my board up and hefted it onto my head. My shoulders were too sore to carry it so I let my neck do the work. Trudging up the beach I saw one of the first sun-worshippers getting a very early start, reclining on her sling back blue Ostrich beach chair. Brunette and maybe twenty five, oversized sunglasses partially obscured what was undoubtedly a pretty face. Still cool, she had on a black cover-up that wouldn’t do much to keep her warm but at least it didn’t hide her very nice legs. It’s the calves. Even relaxed, hers looked like she was wearing high heels. Only dancers and athletes have calves like that. She seemed to be watching me while alternately working both her cellphone and laptop. I got the sensation I thought a model might have as an artist painted them and it was a bit unsettling.

During summer months, Sullivan’s Island has a high percentage of tourists who rent a house for a week. The houses along the first two rows nearest the beach usually have room for 8 to 12 occupants so they split the rent and the population of transients skyrockets. Locals get used to it and most of the tourists behave. Once school starts the number of tourists drops off dramatically and gets older. With thinner crowds visitors are easier to spot. She wasn’t a regular. I would have remembered. She was sitting right next to my path home and I didn’t mind. I stood a little straighter as I walked. If I’d had a gut, I would have sucked it in.

“Nice workout?” she asked when I was within conversational distance.

“Not as good as I’d hoped.” I happily slowed, then stopped as she followed up.

“How far?”

“Ten miles and a bit more for warm up and cool down, not quite eleven.”

“That seems like a pretty long distance to paddle. You must do that regularly.”

“I try to do at least five miles five days a week in the summer. I’ll put in a long workout like this once or twice a month. When the water cools off, I knock off for the season. I was hoping to break two hours but I missed it.”

“You’re a year-round resident,” she said, a statement rather than a question.

“There’s a few of us but we don’t mind visitors. Here with friends?”

“Five of us. We drove from Poplar Bluff, Missouri. Stopped in Nashville on the way, then Asheville to see the estate. We leave Sunday.”

“Family or friends?” I asked, hoping it was friends.

“Friends. The five of us have been in the same yoga class for three years or more and decided to do something together besides yoga. It’s been fun so far. Why don’t you put your board down and tell me what we missed. I’m sure we’ll come back.”

So, I did. I dropped my board next to her and sat down facing the ocean, then told her about some of the mansions, the best restaurants and the rest of the tourist sites and added a few of my favorite out of the way places as well. It was the first trip to the Lowcountry for each of them and they were already looking forward to their next visit. But she said they were also interested in exploring something they hadn’t planned on.

“When we started this trip, it was just for fun, a way to get out of Missouri and see someplace new. What made it even more fun was learning about each other. For example, I had no idea that Nancy had been married or that Lori coached cheerleaders. I’m Ann, by the way.”

“Danny,” I said and shook her hand. We laughed that we had been talking for thirty minutes without exchanging names.

“Nancy and Bev had been married but they’re divorced now. Colleen is single and so am I. We just didn’t know anything about each other so this has been fun.”

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve learned about each other on the trip?”

“I’m going to hang onto that for a bit. Let’s just say that our conversation took an interesting turn in Nashville. We stopped at a bookstore to research our new topic and got into some pretty animated debate and haven’t settled it at all. Probably time for some science to get involved, perhaps an experiment or two. Three of us are ready for that, one is definitely not and the other is on the fence.”

“Now, you’ve got my curiosity up. What’s the topic of debate?”

“Remember, I said I was going to hang onto that for now. If the other two come around, we’ll need some help with our experiment. Would you be interested?”

“I’m a science teacher so, yeah, I’d be interested. Never know what you’re going to learn.”

“You have no idea.” She asked a lot of questions about me and some seemed a bit personal for a first encounter but she was pretty and I didn’t mind. We talked about other things for a few more minutes and I pointed up 25th toward my house and gave her my number. Ann promised to call me if they wanted my help and when I pressed, she said that if the other two didn’t want to try the experiment she would let me know about it after they left town. Of course that made their science experiment even more mysterious. There’s so much information available on the internet that not too many people bothered to experiment any more. Whatever it was, I was interested if Ann was involved and I almost asked her to dinner but she was with friends. Plus, she had my number.

That evening, Ann called and said the other two had come around and actually become almost enthusiastic about it. The next day was Saturday and she asked me to come their beach house at 10 the next morning and “please don’t wear yourself out paddling.” I’m one of those guys that shakes presents before Christmas morning because the suspense kills me. This was killing me and I had no way to shake it.

Having happily refrained from wearing myself out paddling and with clipboard and pencil in hand, I knocked on their door at a minute to ten. Ann let me in with a big smile and together we walked upstairs to the great room facing the beach. Almost every rental has one huge room that faces the ocean with a large windowed front and at least a small porch and theirs was no different. The décor was the typical sand dollar and pelican sort of thing and the room looked large enough to host a party of 40 or more. Her four friends were seated around a coffee table and when I walked in the talking stopped. Ann introduced us with a brief although unusual description.

“Hey everybody, this is Danny.” I smiled and gave them an uncomfortable half wave.

“Danny, this is Nancy,” she said pointing to a petite blonde, possibly approaching thirty. Like the other ladies, she was wearing yoga pants and a loose top. Her hair was up in a loose bun, her blue eyes sparkled and she smiled back at me, raising her coffee cup in a sort of salute. I liked her. She was very pretty and looked mischievous. “She’s divorced. The guy she was engaged to failed to show up sending turdman instead. That was two years ago.” I wasn’t at all sure what that would have to do with anything but I mouthed the word “sorry” to her and she arched her eyebrows and shoulders in an “it is what it is” motion and Ann moved to her next friend.

“This is Lori. She’s happily married and has been for ten years. The experiment was her idea, by the way.” I wanted to ask, “What experiment?” but waited. They’d tell me soon enough. Lori was also very pretty. Like the other women, she was thin and fit; yoga had been good to them all. Her brown hair and eyes and welcome smile were very attractive. I thought her husband must be a lucky guy.

“Bev is the newest to join our yoga class. She started coming a little over two years ago when she was in the middle of a divorce. Her ex also belonged to the Mr. Turd club but he was pretty well off financially and now, Bev is too. Can I tell him?” she asked Bev and she nodded back. “She had ballooned up during the divorce and since she joined our class she’s dropped 60 pounds, all the way down to a size 6 and we’re all pretty proud of her.” I couldn’t imagine her at 60 pounds heavier but she sure looked good. Bev was another brunette, tending toward red. I stopped trying to imagine a heavier Bev. She was giving me a serious once over, twice over and more. I almost felt like posing for her. I flexed my arms a little and she looked up at my face and smiled, having been caught but it didn’t matter.

“Colleen is the youngest member of our group, three years out of college but she’s been doing yoga the longest and is thinking about opening her own studio. She’d be good at it and has encouraged each one of us. She dances competitively, does triathlons and basically makes the rest of us sick with envy.” Colleen’s incredible red hair was trying to take over the room and doing a fair job of it. It was long, wavy and wild and together with spectacular green eyes and plenty of freckles made her eye candy of the first degree. All five women were attractive but Colleen was far beyond that. She was stunning.