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The House On The Beach

Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.

Chapter One

"But you know how much we'd love for you to join us in Atlanta," continued Alison. "Charles especially wants you to know that the invitation comes from him, too. And the kids would adore having their Aunt Laura close by."

"I do know it, and I love you all for it, but -"

"And we have fabulous medical centers, too," interrupted Alison. "As good as here. Not that you have anything to worry about anymore," she added quickly.

Right. Nothing except the knowledge that there were no guarantees. "I'm not concerned about finding medical care. It's just that I have another idea."

"You do? What?"

"Remember Pilgrim Cove? Remember the beautiful beach?" Laura watched her sister's eyes widen and a grin light up her face.

"Do I remember? Of course I remember. What great summers we had. So, what's your idea? A summer vacation at the beach?"

"Not exactly," replied Laura. "I'm not going to wait that long."

"You're going to the beach in the middle of winter?" Alison asked in disbelief as she hugged herself.

"Brr. Not me."

Laura laughed at her sister's antics. They'd always gotten along well, and Laura had really missed Alison when she'd left Boston. Suddenly Laura had to blink back tears. Alison was now her only family.

"I'll think about what you said regarding Atlanta, but I've got a career here and ... I need some time. Time for myself."

Alison's hand reached for hers. "I'll support any decision you make, sis, but are you sure you really want to be alone?"

"With the sand and the ocean and my work ... don't worry, Ali. I'll be very busy."

"Yeah, yeah. The sand will blow in your eyes, the ocean will crash against the seawall and the ferry won't run. So much for winter at the beach!"

Laura smiled. "I'll wait until next month. March should be somewhat better. I wonder what Pilgrim Cove is like during the off-season. At least the rent should be cheaper."

"Wait a minute. Why are you concerned about rent? A few dollars one way or another for a week's vacation shouldn't make a difference."

"I'm thinking about more than a week," Laura said in a slow, deliberate tone. "I'm thinking about a three-month lease, maybe through Memorial Day. A small house might not be too expensive, not too hard to keep up, but I'd want it right on the beach."

She stood as the image crystallized in her mind. "I need a change, a complete change of scene. And I need it now. Fighting with the weather will be much easier than fighting for Mom's life and my own."

She reached up and tousled her short blond curls. "Look at me, Alison. Look at these ringlets. I'm delighted to have hair again, but I don't recognize myself when I pass a mirror. Where's the sleek blunt cut that was so easy to manage?"

"You're adorable in those curls! In fact, you look wonderful, Laura, just wonderful." Laura could hear the passion in her sister's voice.

"Donald didn't think so," she responded.

"Donald Crawford was a jerk!"

Laura shook her head. "No, Alison. Don wasn't a jerk. He was just human. He had a girlfriend with a huge responsibility to an ill mother - and he handled that - but my getting sick was just too much. He wasn't prepared for all the emotional turmoil. Who can blame him?"

"I can," replied Alison.

"Be fair," said Laura. "We weren't engaged. He didn't owe me anything."

"He wasn't worthy of you!" Alison insisted.

"You're the most outstanding person, the most beautiful, wonderful woman ..."

"You're hardly objective." Laura laughed. "But can you really blame Don for wanting a normal life? What man wouldn't have second thoughts when he heard the words 'breast cancer'?"

"A man who loves you," came the quick reply.

"Well, I'm not going to count on that happening," said Laura in an even tone. "So I'll have lots of time and energy to rebuild my interrupted career." She leaned across the table. "I'm thirty-three. It's now or never. And you heard my agent last night. "Work is therapy, Laura,"" she mimicked Norman Cohen's low voice. She relaxed in her chair. "Norman is a dear friend as well as a businessman. And he's got some radio ads lined up for me."

Alison would have protested again, but Laura held up her hand. "I'm not discussing men anymore, Ali. I'm not sure there's a man in the world who could look past this. Anyway, it's too soon. All I can do is take one day at a time. Capisce?"

"Sure," Alison replied. "I understand, but I don't have to like it. I love you and I want you to have ..."

"I know," Laura said in a hoarse voice. "You want me to have everything you have ... loving husband, healthy children ... but that's probably not going to happen for me. What is going to happen, however, is a nice long stay in Pilgrim Cove."

Alison remained quiet for a long moment. "I recognize that expression and that tone," she finally said. "You've made up your mind. But my invitation remains open - will always remain open."

Laura looked at her sister's face, at the sincerity clearly written there. "Thanks, Ali, thanks a lot. But I've got to figure it out my own way."

She reached for the phone. "I'm calling Bartholomew Quinn, the man who arranged the summer rentals when we were kids. I remember going with Daddy to Mr. Quinn's real estate office. And I remember him. A head of thick white hair."

"White? And that was how many years ago? Close to twenty? He might be dead by now!"

"Hope not." She picked up the receiver and dialed directory assistance.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from The House On The Beach by Linda Barrett Copyright © 2004 by Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.. Excerpted by permission.
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