“Hey there, Jane. Nice to see ya. Nixon, Perry.” The mechanic nodded at the kids.
“Hi, Mr. Murray,” they all responded together.
“Meetings?” the twins’ dad asked.
“We volunteer for the Gold Stars,” Jane explained. “We’re a youth group that aims to promote social responsibility in kids.”
“Isn’t that something!” their dad said.
“We’re always looking for new members.” Jane looked at the twins. “If you two want to join, we’d be happy to take you to a meeting.”
Everleigh snorted, and their dad cut her a look that could slice through a ten-ton truck.
“That’s a very nice offer,” their dad said, a warning note in his voice. “I’m sure they’d love that.”
Jane smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “We should get going so we’re not late to our meeting.”
“Oh, by all means!” He stepped aside to let them pass. “It was great to meet you.”
“You too,” Jane said.
The Gold Stars gave them another one of their blank-stared smiles before they disappeared through a hole in the fence.
“They seemed nice,” their dad said.
“They seemed weird,” Everleigh replied. “I’ve seen livelier personalities on some two-by-fours.”
“Everleigh!” Their dad darted an embarrassed look at the mechanic.
“Oh, it’s all right,” Mr. Murray said, waving away his concern. “Probably just tired from the long drive. Why don’t we go inside and square up for that sealant? I bet you kids want to get out of here.”
“That’s an understatement,” Everleigh muttered.
The mechanic charitably pretended not to hear her.
* * *
...............................
Soon, they arrived at their home for the foreseeable future. The A-frame was set on a rocky jut of land overlooking the ocean. Thick vines climbed the yellow-stained siding like they were trying to swallow the house, and black shutters on the windows snapped open and closed in the wind. The roof was completely lost to the fog. A sign out front said “Welcome to Blackwater Lookout Bed-and-Breakfast!” in looping cursive script.
Beacon’s lips twitched from the effort to keep the smile pasted on his face.
“This looks great and everything,” he said, “but do you think there’s someplace a little more . . . modern we can stay?”
“This is the only hotel in town,” their dad said. He parked the car next to an ancient blue truck with wood paneling on the side that Beacon had only ever seen in ’80s movies. “The lady on the phone said we were lucky to get rooms at all.”
“Yeah, because tourism is obviously booming here,” Everleigh deadpanned.
There were no cars. There were no people. There were no neighbors for miles. It looked like you could go days without ever having contact with another person, if you wanted. It was so different from LA, where you couldn’t step out of your front door without bumping into someone.
“It’s just temporary while we do some house hunting,” their dad said. “A couple of those places we found online looked very promising.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Beacon said without much conviction.
A thickset woman with ruddy cheeks and wiry gray Brillo Pad hair came out of the front doors. She shielded her face and scowled down at the family, the wind sucking her apron away from her body.
“That must be Donna,” their dad said.
“Donna seems like a blast,” Everleigh replied.
“Who are ye?” Donna called over the wind. Beacon didn’t know whether to be annoyed at Everleigh’s rudeness or respect her honesty, because really, there was nothing to be happy about here. He’d been trying to be optimistic for his dad’s sake, but it was getting hard. Couldn’t he have found anyplace better for their fresh start? He didn’t see anything appealing about this town. It was as if their dad had thrown a dart at a map and said, “Driftwood Harbor it is!”
“Malcolm McCullough,” their dad said. “And these are my kids, Beacon and Everleigh.”
For a minute, Donna looked as if she was going to turn them away, and Beacon got hopeful that they would have to leave after all. A whole sequence played out in his head. They wouldn’t find anywhere else to stay in town, so they’d be forced to leave entirely, and once they did, they would decide to never come back. Maybe they’d move to Hawaii instead. Canada, even. He wasn’t picky.
But then Donna gave a curt nod and said, “Welcome to Blackwater.”
“Welcome to Blackwater, my butt,” Everleigh said under her breath.
Beacon and Everleigh followed their dad into the inn.
Happily, the inside was a lot cheerier than the outside. The walls were made up of knotted-wood paneling, and there were overstuffed couches set around a stone hearth that had a crackling fire inside. It smelled like baking, which was another improvement over the outside, which smelled like fish.
“You kids must be hungry,” Donna said. “I’ll get the oven going.”
“Oh, it’s okay,” their dad said. “That’s very kind of you, but we had a bite to eat at that Home Sweet Home diner on the highway. The kids ate their weight in crinkle-cut fries. I think we’d all just like to get some sleep.”
“Very well,” Donna said. Her mouth pursed as if she’d sucked on a sour candy. Beacon made a mental note never to refuse her cooking.
They followed her brisk footsteps through the inn.
“I suppose you’ll be wanting the bigger room for yourself?” she said to their dad, gesturing to a large bedroom on the main floor. She raised her eyebrows, as if challenging him to disagree.
“Well, yes,” he stuttered.
“I figured,” she said. “I’ll let you get settled in. Kids, follow me.”
She led them up a set of narrow, winding stairs to the second floor.
“The bedroom at the end of the hall is free, but one of you will need to stay here.” She used a hook from the hall closet to reach up and unlatch a door in the ceiling. She pulled down a set of accordion stairs that led up into the darkness.
“It’s not ideal,” Donna said, “but we’re tight on space.”
Beacon peered warily into the attic, then at his sister. Everleigh crossed her arms and lifted her chin. It was a look he knew all too well. She was prepared to argue to the death until she got what she wanted.