Chapter 4 - Sunshine on the Bluffs
Morning arrived not with the harsh buzzing of an alarm, but with the golden warmth of coastal sunlight streaming through sheer linen curtains.
I woke up feeling more rested than I had in years. Noah was already awake, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, quietly flipping through a picture book about marine life that he had found on the cottage bookshelf.
"Mommy, look!" he whispered, pointing to a photograph of a giant sea turtle. "Do these live out there?"
"They do," I smiled, stretching my arms over my head. "If we look closely at the water, we might even see one."
A gentle knock sounded at the front door.
My instincts flared with sudden caution, but when I looked through the cottage’s decorative glass pane, I saw Arthur standing on the porch. He was dressed in casual khakis and a soft blue polo shirt, carrying a wicker picnic basket covered with a red-and-white checkered cloth. Beside him stood a magnificent, gentle golden retriever whose tail thumped rhythmically against the decking.
I quickly smoothed down my hair, adjusted my cardigan, and opened the door. "Good morning, Arthur."
"Good morning, Laura. I trust you both slept well?"
"Better than we have in months," I said honestly.
Noah peeked out from behind my legs. His eyes went straight to the dog. "A doggy!"
"This is Barnaby," Arthur said with a twinkle in his eye.
Noah gasped, his jaw dropping. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his stuffed bear. "My bear's name is Barnaby!"
Arthur chuckled heartily. "Well, then it’s fate. Barnaby the dog has been looking for a friend who understands the importance of morning biscuits. May we come in?"
"Please," I stepped aside, deeply touched.
Arthur set the wicker basket on the kitchen island. Inside were fresh warm buttermilk biscuits from a local bakery, homemade strawberry jam, sliced fresh peaches, scrambled eggs in a thermal container, and a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice.
"Arthur, you really didn't have to do this," I said, feeling overwhelmed.
"Nonsense. An empty stomach makes for a terrible morning at the beach," Arthur said, taking a seat at the breakfast bar while Noah happily sat on the rug, gently scratching the golden retriever behind the ears. The dog groaned in absolute bliss, resting his heavy chin on Noah's small knee.
As Noah ate his biscuit, Arthur looked at me thoughtfully. "I noticed your family’s texts this morning."
I stiffened slightly. "My phone was on silent, but I saw the notifications piling up before I came over."
Arthur tapped his chin. "Your mother’s name is Patricia Bennett, married to Robert Bennett?"
"Yes," I answered, curious. "Do you know them?"
Arthur offered a faint, enigmatic smile that didn't reach his eyes. "The coastal development and real estate circle around here is quite small, Laura. Robert Bennett runs a mid-tier commercial supply firm in North Carolina, doesn't he?"
"Yes, he does. How did you know that?"
"I keep tabs on businesses operating in this district," Arthur said smoothly, brushing a crumb from the counter. "Tell me, Laura, what do you do for work?"
"I’m an office administrator for a medical supply company in Charlotte. I handle logistics, billing compliance, and vendor contracts."
"A demanding job," Arthur observed. "Requires an eye for detail, precision, and an unwillingness to let discrepancies slide."
"That’s true," I said with a faint laugh. "I spend half my day auditing invoices that suppliers try to sneak past our department."
Arthur nodded slowly, his expression growing serious. "Then perhaps you can explain something that has always puzzled me about people like your parents. You mentioned last night that Patricia claimed money was tight when it came to Noah’s birthday, yet she booked a four-thousand-dollar penthouse suite for your sister."
The familiar ache settled in my chest. "Ashley has always been the favorite. When our grandmother, Evelyn Bennett, passed away seven years ago, she supposedly left the bulk of her modest estate to our parents to distribute as they saw fit for the grandchildren's education and well-being. But whenever I asked about help with Noah’s preschool or healthcare, Mom claimed Grandma’s investments had tanked during the market downturn. Meanwhile, Ashley got a down payment on her suburban home, and her kids attend private academies."
Arthur’s gray eyes grew piercingly sharp. "Evelyn Bennett? Was your grandmother Evelyn Vance Bennett?"
I dropped my fork. It clattered against the ceramic plate.
"Yes," I whispered, staring at him. "Her maiden name was Vance. She grew up somewhere along the coast... Arthur, how do you know my grandmother's maiden name?"
Arthur didn't answer immediately. He looked at Noah, who was feeding a tiny scrap of biscuit crust to Barnaby the dog.
"Finish your breakfast, Noah," Arthur said gently. "Because after this, Barnaby and I are taking you down to the private cove. We have tidal pools full of starfish, and the waves are just the right size for a six-year-old."
Noah cheered, jumping up and down. "Can I wear my new swim vest, Mommy?"
"Of course you can, baby," I said, my voice barely audible, my mind spinning into complete vertigo.
May you like
Arthur turned back to me, his gaze steady as bedrock. "Get your son ready for the beach, Laura. While he plays in the sand, you and I are going to have a very long, very overdue conversation about family."
***
