Sunshine Beach Read Online Free Page B

pointed toward a stand of dunes near which a catamaran nestled on its pontoons, its lines clanging slightly against its mast.
    â€œBoag!”
    â€œYes.” Together they pushed the stroller back the way they’d come, then maneuvered it up into the softer sand.
    Positioning herself in front of the sea-oat-topped dunes not far from the catamaran, she tossed the ball carefully to Dustin. “Good catch!” she said as he caught and clasped it to his chest. Before she could prepare herself, he threw itback. It whizzed past her knees, rolled between the dunes, and disappeared.
    â€œBall!” Dustin ran past her in pursuit of his ball.
    Kyra went after him. She found him crouching near what appeared to be a low wall of sand against which the ball had come to rest. A wall that ran the width of a property she’d never even known was there.
    She scooped up Dustin and his ball taking in the No Trespassing!!! sign that rose out of a patch of grass and sandspurs. But it was what lay beyond the low wall that had her frozen in her spot trying to understand what she was seeing.
    She’d walked and run this stretch of beach hundreds of times, had noted the homes both new and huge and old and funky as well as the condos that perched above it. But she’d always assumed this stretch of sand and scrub was somehow attached to one of the buildings on either side of it.
    Despite the sign and its exclamation points, she settled Dustin on her hip and moved closer, drawn by something she didn’t really understand. A low-slung building with glimmers of grime and salt-caked plate glass overlooked an equally bereft concrete pool filled with trash. Drifts of sand clumped with debris covered everything, reminding her oddly of pictures she’d seen of Pompeii. She stepped through the low-walled opening, her sneakers crunching on sand and gravel and broken glass, half expecting to see plaster casts of bodies overcome by the Florida equivalent of molten lava. This place felt that way—abandoned unexpectedly and in a hurry. A jungle of palms and sea grape trees had sprung up around the edges of the property, wrapping around each other, squeezing out air and sun. Roots and tropical vegetation poked up through the concrete deck, climbed the building’s concrete walls, and hung from its tarp-covered roof.
    Not sure why, she walked to the building and pressed her face against the murky glass. The long side of the building was an open space that contained tattered groupings offurniture. An ancient Ping-Pong table sat in front of one glassed area. Card tables lined another. The back wall was punctuated by doors labeled with signs she couldn’t make out. The L at the eastern end of the building appeared to be a dining room, its tables and chairs still in place. Faded art-work hung crooked on the walls. Shredded ceiling-to-floor curtains hung in corners.
    Dustin wrapped his arms tighter around her neck, unusually silent. He did not ask to be put down, but he didn’t ask to leave, either.
    â€œI’m just going to take a peek at what’s down this sidewalk,” she said to both of them as she followed a narrow concrete walkway that curved and branched to an assortment of square, concrete buildings, all roughly the same size. Tarps had been stretched over the flat roofs. Signs affixed to each door carried names, all of them beach related: Starfish Suite, Coquina Cove, Horseshoe Haven, the Happy Crab.
    A hotel, then. Small and intimate and definitely of another time. She’d never noticed it from the road, either, hidden as it was by the overgrowth that surrounded it, but given its proximity to the Don CeSar she’d know where to look for it.
    Slowly she retraced her steps to the beach pausing near the No Trespassing!!! sign for a last look.
    The property was in horrible shape, but it hadn’t been condemned or torn down. This was prime beachfront. Perfect for a lavish new home. Or even a small condo