A lesbian romance set in a seaside town. Like my other submissions, it's a bit of a read and the 'good stuff' doesn't happen right away.
For those not familiar with the slang, the term shoobie originated in the 1920's on the southern shore of New Jersey as a nickname for tourists. Tourists supposedly brought their lunches in shoe boxes when visiting the Shore and they were dubbed 'shoobies'. Okay, enough with the history lesson.
A huge thank you to
LaRascasse
for solid suggestions for improvement/editing and thank you to my beta reader,
Stroudle
for all the great feedback!
*************
The strong scents of the ocean poured over Amelia Lincoln as she walked over the wooded boardwalk toward the railing. An orange glow was thrown over the water by the rising sun, the damp jetty glistening where it jutted out. Several dots lined the rocks, early risers casting out fishing lines in hopes of catching a piece of the ocean's bounty.
She placed her fingertips on the cool surface of the metal bars, closing her eyes as she relished in the soft heat coming from the new day.
A ring from a passing bicycle chimed loudly, an errant string of laughter heard from one of the closest shops. The aroma of fresh fried doughnuts and baked bread wafted into her face on a breeze, her brown hair being tugged aside by it. She smiled to herself, imagining that her mother was pulling her hair back into a ponytail, as she had many a time in that very spot when Amelia was a child.
But, she wasn't. She was in the ground, had been for two months. Amelia stepped back, opening her eyes and allowing reality to slip back to the forefront of her mind. She had so many things to do, a near failing business to run, a contract extension to negotiate; her time to grieve had passed. Turning toward the row of awakening shops, Amelia braced herself for the day ahead of her.
The tiny shop her mother had cherished sat at the end of 11th avenue beside a Christmas themed store and in front of one of two amusement parks on the boardwalk. It was a prime location that her mother was lucky to get a deal on. The rent was quite inexpensive, and Amelia was thankful for that. She only hoped the new property owner was as gracious as the last who had owned the building for nearly three decades.
Amelia received the call from her mother six months prior.
End stage pancreatic cancer
. She had chosen to forgo treatment, which was futile at any rate, causing Amelia to drop everything to care for her ill mother.
She sighed, attempting to assuage the torrent of emotions that threatened to distract her from the many pushing matters of her day. Walking through the glass doors of the shop, the smell of fresh flowers pressed against her and she welcomed its embrace. The aroma would always remind her of her mother.
It was a small shop, no bigger than the average ice cream stand, the storefront a simple counter and two display cases. The back was taken up by various refrigerators for the flowers as well as supplies for bouquets and arrangements. Entering the office, she set up her laptop and began reordering supplies from her inventory the night before. She had dived head first into the business upon her arrival back home, taking over for her mother as she became sicker and weaker.
Martha Lincoln had a knack for her trade, capturing quite a profit for many years as well as a large client base. However, with the damage that had been done to the shop during Hurricane Sandy, she'd used most of her savings to help the owners rebuild the structure and replace windows. Before she could manage to reassemble her savings, she fell ill.
Amelia had done her best to salvage her mother's baby, but with limited funding and even less aptitude for customer service, she felt as if she was failing. A knock on the door to the tiny office brought Amelia's gaze up. Her mother's teenage delivery driver, Brady Tripe, stood in the small door frame, a long box hanging in his hands. "The flower shipment is here, Miss Lincoln," he gestured to the load in his arms.
She stood, reaching for the box of assorted roses. "Thanks, Brady. I'll come help with the rest."
The young man had worked with her mother for the previous three summers and had grown quite fond of her. It took a toll on him and the other full time summer employees with her unexpected passing, especially her mother's good friend and longest standing employee, Kathy Meek. The absence of her mother was even more painful when she allowed herself to recognize the hurt in other people's eyes.
She doubted she could manage the impossibly large shoes of her mother and she wasn't even sure she could keep the shop open long enough to find out.
****
"Are you sure you want to do the wedding all the way down here? Why not, like, Philly, or, I don't know, New York City? Mom and Dad are giving you full reign," Morgan Burke stretched out in the passenger seat of her sister's Toyota Prius, staring at her dubiously, her bare feet on the dash.
When her sister didn't look at her, Morgan peered out at the vast ninth street bridge heading into Ocean City, New Jersey. The nearly three-mile causeway between Ocean City and Somer's Point was jam packed with out of city visitors and the traffic was moving slow even at eleven a.m. In Morgan's estimation and memory, the city was ugly, far from what her sister deserved as a location for her anticipated wedding.
Regardless of what she or her mother and stepfather said, Allison had made her choice.
Allison glanced at her sister. "Doug and I really love this place. It's just so nostalgic. Don't you remember coming down here during the summer with aunt Fran? The food, the rides, all of it. It was awesome," she looked back to the road, traffic having stopped as the bridge lifted to let a grandiosely restored schooner drift by. "And don't be so dyspeptic," Allison added.
Morgan scoffed and rolled up the window, the fetid odor of exhaust fumes too potent. "Wow, listen to you being all literary. Was that the word of the day on your dictionary app?" She chuckled. Allison whacked her sister's arm before pulling forward as the traffic resumed.
It wouldn't be so bad if we could actually drink,
Morgan thought to herself and immediately felt guilty. Her future brother-in-law was an openly recovering alcoholic and she knew that Ocean City prohibited the sale of alcohol within city limits. She surmised this had a lot to do with the choosing of the location, but feigned ignorance.
"You know, Morgan, you could at least pretend you're excited to see the hotel we chose. It's going to be so beautiful. Think of the pictures, right off the water! And don't worry, you won't have to tag along after Doug gets here tomorrow."
It was adorable how her sister's face lit up when she got excited about the wedding, like it was a little girl's dream. Morgan knew it probably was. With her Mom and stepfather's offering to pay for the entire shindig without setting any limitations, Allison could've had the wedding in Vegas for all they cared. They just wanted her to be happy, as did Morgan.
She couldn't, however, stifle the trepidation stirred by the implications of her being married. The slight jealousy of her baby sister finding love ahead of her had Morgan planning to at least pregame beforehand to deal with the wedding taking place in the driest city in the Tristate area.
The wedding was planned for the following June, nearly a year away and they were already setting up reservations at a hotel in the small seaside city. "I'm sure it'll be beautiful. I just don't understand why we have to come out here a year in advance to scope it out. I mean, I'm not complaining because I do have some stuff I've got to do while we're down here, but we could've waited until after tourist season to set up all of the reservations," her tone
was
dyspeptic, she noticed and mentally berated her sister for choosing such a fitting word.
She didn't mean to be irritable, but she had unpleasant business to attend to within the city. Giving notice of a lease termination was not her favorite aspect of her job. Prior to leaving the office the day before, her business partner loaded her with an envelope and a quick description of the situation.
A small company purchased a property from an aging couple and wanted to boot out the long-standing tenants to gut the structure and rebuild. It was a smart idea, he had told Morgan, due to the location and history of hurricanes. It was still one of her least favorite bits of the job and was saving it for Tuesday morning, determined to enjoy her weekend away from work.
"Because. If we waited until after tourist season, most of these places won't even be open. A lot of them close during fall and board up to prevent damage during hurricane season," Allison reasoned. Morgan sighed, understanding her logic.
"We better at least find some bomb-ass ice cream, then," Morgan asserted as the car pulled into a large parking lot by the shoreline.
As Morgan stepped out of the car, she realized her sister was right about its beauty. The long planks of the boardwalk stretched for miles, the beach windswept, wispy cattails and blades of grass sticking up from the dunes bordering the boardwalk. Kaleidoscopic kites fluttered in the skies above the beach.
