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Excerpt
“I haven’t been to this side of Florida before, it’s nice,“ Ned muttered.
“I’ve spent most my time on the other coast to be honest. But I love the
gulf side much better. Warmer I think, more temperate. And it’s slower. I mean,
we got lots of tourism here, no question about it. But it’s happier, you know
what I mean?”
Ned stared straight ahead as the bridge dead-ended into a small two lane
boulevard, heading north and south along the beach.
“This here is Gulf Boulevard, for obvious reasons. You have your
beachside properties and then you have your inland properties which sometimes
are on a waterway. In any direction you’re no more than five or six blocks from
some body of water. I think that’s why I like it“
Noonan turned right and headed north. Ned saw glimpses of turquoise water
and white beaches in between two story rental units and occasionally a large
condo complex. Along the way it was dotted with beach shops and rental agencies,
renting everything from vacation cabins to surfboards, golf carts and beach
bicycles. He passed a lot of ice cream stores. There were shops on both sides
of the road selling fishing and beach gear, flip-flops, bathing
suits, tanning lotion, and a couple of Taqueria‘s with open air palapas
just like Ned had seen in Mexico. There were lots of fish and chips places, a
smattering of outdoor bars with brightly-colored umbrellas. Occasionally they
had to stop between lights to allow couples or families to cross the road,
usually towing a canvas wagon filled with towels and equipment.
They also passed several groups of walkers, and occasionally a tandem
bicycle. Ned felt himself starting to relax, even though Noonan was quick to
hit on the gas and slow to hit the brakes.
“See? Nothing fancy, but not too shabby, either.”
They turned left down a paved road that ended at the edge of a wooden
bridge over the sand dunes. It was the Treasure Island beach access trail. Off
to the side was an alleyway, unpaved, just wide enough to accommodate two cars
passing. On both sides of the path were smaller shacks, some of them
well-painted, and others left to the sea’s devices. Vacation rental signs hung
in most of the yards or attached to the upper eve of the houses, colorfully
lettered in bright Caribbean paint, with names like Pete’s Paradise and Laura‘s
Lair, with pictures of fish, starfish, and mermaids adorning fences and sides
of buildings. Newnan pulled into the driveway of a tiny pink house that sat
right on the beach.
“It isn’t much, I warn you. This place is going to get torn down, and the
owner has plans to build a McMansion, sort of triplex building. He wants to
live upstairs and rent out down below. But for now, this place is vacant and it
has a little bit of furniture. I hope you like it. And the price is right.“ He
said as he exited the truck.
Ned ran right behind the pirate, his canvas slip-ons crunching on the
white mixture of crushed shells and stones. Noonan produced a set of keys and
unlocked the front door, which was slightly warped, causing Noonan to have to
lean into it hard with his shoulder. At the second try, it gave way and let
them enter, but part of the door trim had cracked.
Inside, the house smelled of mildew, but Ned thought it was nothing that
a few open windows could take care of. It hadn’t been updated in many years.
That surprised him, because Ned thought all these beach properties saw
themselves underwater every few years due to the storms. But this one looked
like it had survived many seasons of winters and lots of fall hurricanes.
“Home sweet home, kid.”
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