SANDCASTLES OF LOVE

Sydell Voeller

copyright © by Sydell Voeller, April 2000
ISBN # 1-58608-059-8
cover art by Eliza Black
New Concepts Publishing
4729 Humphreys Rd
Lake Park, GA 31636

Chapter 1

I awakened with a start, bathed in cold sweat, then blinked twice. A bulky shadow hovered alongside of me. Something with two glowing amber eyes was staring right into my face. Every muscle in my body tensed. Every nerve was standing on end.

I opened my mouth to scream, but all I heard was a shrill sound from my attacker.

Mee-ow.

In an instant my mind cleared. I couldn't help but giggle. Reaching out to rub the black Angora cat's head, I heard her begin to purr. Hadn't Tricia Ferris warned me her spoiled pet--who under no circumstances was to be allowed outdoors--liked to sleep on the foot of her bed at night?

"Good kitty. Nice kitty," I said in a hushed, but still somewhat shaky voice. "Now get down where you belong and let me go back to sleep." I propped myself up on one elbow and gave her a gentle shove. The cat padded her way across the covers with slow, deliberate steps. I soon felt the weight of her curled-up body against my feet. The sound of her purring mingled with the ticking of my alarm clock.

I lay back down and jerked the covers more snugly around me. Darn! My midnight intruder had just interrupted the most wonderful dream. Midnight. Tricia couldn't have chosen

a more appropriate name. Squeezing my eyes shut, my thoughts drifted back to my dream. It'd been about that gorgeous sun-tanned guy I'd glimpsed today on the beach.

In the dream, we were walking together hand-in-hand, the icy surf washing onto our bare feet. I don't remember exactly what the guy was saying to me, but his head had been angled close to mine, and his words had left me with a warm, melting feeling.

Actually, he was more than gorgeous--in real life as well as my dream. Somehow he possessed a magical combination of carefree abandonment, physical agility and perfect form.

Perfect form. That was I admired most in a guy, I guess. Someday I want to be a professional dancer. I've taken lessons for eight years now at Miss Bernsteins School of Dance near Rochester and dream of winning a scholarship to the art academy after I graduate from high school.

Suddenly I knew I had to do more than just dream. I had to find that gorgeous guy again. I had to find him if it was the last thing I did. Tomorrow, I promised myself. I would get started first thing tomorrow...

***

I sat at Tricia's dressing table, brushing my hair and once again reading the letter she'd left for me. I'd found it the day before taped to the mirror in her bedroom shortly after Mom, Dad, and Casey, my little brother, had arrived.

Dear Logan Becker,

Welcome to your new home--well, I guess I should say your new home for the next three months. I'm so excited that our parents got together and decided to trade houses for the summer. That ad in the personal section of the newspaper certainly paid off.

I'm looking forward to discovering what it's like to live in the dairy farm belt of Minnesota. My folks jumped at the opportunity because you live so close to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester. Maybe you know by now they're both doctors and needed to work on an important research project. Something to do with kidney transplants.

Believe it or not, I've never traveled much before. Maybe by the time I return back to Oregon, I'll even know how to milk a cow--though I guess I wouldn't have had to go so far to learn that! As I'm sure you'll soon discover, there's lots of farm country there too.

The only bad part about leaving, of course, is not seeing my steady boyfriend till next fall. You probably have a cool boyfriend yourself and know exactly what I mean.

I hope you like living in my family's new house at Sunset Beach. There's a few little things I may need to warn you about. (My Mom asked me to tell you and your family.) First, there's my cat Midnight. Don't ever let her outside. She's strictly a house pet. Midnight likes to sleep on my bed each night, but forget trying to carry her in with you when you're ready to hit the sack. She insists on coming into the bedroom on her own time--which could be up to several hours later. Her favorite food is canned Albacore tuna. Good luck trying to feed her anything else.

My cat also likes phone calls. If you don't make a bee- line for the phone the second it first rings, she's apt to spring across the room and knock it off the receiver. Don't ask me why. My parents think it all started when they used to be on call a lot at the hospital and the phone was always ringing. Apparently Midnight thought it was quite a game to beat them to it.

Next there's our toaster. The reason I mention it is because it's rather temperamental. Occasionally it pops up the bread much too soon, and you have to push it down another time or two. Sometimes I give up and eat plain, untoasted bread with strawberry jam in the morning, especially when I'm in a hurry. My parents are much too busy to worry about stuff like toasters that don't work right, but I thought your folks might be different. Especially since they are school teachers and have decided they'd spend a leisurely summer in Oregon sight-seeing.

I probably should mention one more thing. I'm taking my new curling iron with me, but if you should decide to use my old one (located in the third drawer of my dresser) it has its own special quirks too. It seems on hot days it never heats up, and on cold days (be prepared for a few of those in Oregon, even though it's summer), it gets so hot, you could easily singe your hair. I'm not sure what the weather has to do with it, but as I said it's quirky.

So that's about it. This house-swapping proposition is really kind of exciting, isn't it? Maybe when all is said and done, and we're both back in our own home towns at the end of the summer, we can even be pen pals.

Good luck and have fun.

Your friend,

Tricia Ferris

I lay the letter back down and gave one final swipe with my hair brush. Guess I'd better stick to using my own curling iron, I decided, studying the highlights in my brown hair in the mirror. If what Tricia had told me about her curling iron was true, I certainly couldn't afford to take any chances ruining my hair.

I wear it in a short, carefree style--coaxed into place by the curling iron. Today I'd also taken special pains with my make-up, though I often don't wear much more than a quick touch of lip gloss. The iced-coffee eye shadow did make my almond shaped brown eyes appear larger, I mused. That's what Amy, my best friend Amy back in Minnesota always told me.

The eye shadow also went well with my olive complexion.

Standing up from the dressing table, I squared my shoulders and darted one final glance into the mirror. My hair and make-up were flawless. My red and white sundress, the one with the splashy tropical pattern, looked perfect with my dangling diamond-shaped earrings. (Don't ask me why I wore a sundress on an overcast day, but I'm an optimist by nature.)

Drawing in a deep breath, I practiced my most becoming smile. It felt and looked right. So what was I waiting for? It was time to get on with the hunt.

I stopped first in the kitchen for a quick breakfast, noticing my family was no where in sight. Then I remembered. Last night they'd told me they were going to check out the art galleries and gift shops in town. Now that I'd turned sixteen, they no longer insisted I go everywhere with them. Casey will be tied to our folks for a long time, poor kid. He'll only be eleven on his next birthday.

I dropped a slice of bread into the toaster, then opened the refrigerator door to hunt for the strawberry jam. In less than two seconds, the bread popped up--it hadn't even begun to get warm. Sighing, I tried it again. Still no luck. At this rate, it'd be nearly dinner time before I'd even begin to eat my breakfast.

Finally I gave up and hurried outside. The deck where I stood faced the beach. The fog still hovered over the sand and the water like a crumpled gray blanket. Below the deck lay a narrow strip of lawn. The Ferris's house stood on a high cliff, two stories tall with ceiling to floor picture windows. Above my head, a brightly colored wind sock flapped in the breeze.

I drew in a deep breath of moist salt air and descended the deck stairs, heading across the yard. What a terrific feeling! I was free! Free for an entire summer to explore my new world here in Oregon and maybe dredge up a little romance in my life.

It was certainly about time, I decided as I followed the walkway around the arborvita hedge. I hadn't had a boyfriend since I'd broken up with Monty Lipman last year around Christmas time. Monty and I just didn't have enough in common--and he never did fit my mental image of the Perfect Guy.

I drew nearer to the small barn-shaped tool shed on the corner of the lot and noticed the door was opened. Strange, I thought. I could've sworn the pad lock had been intact yesterday evening when my parents and I'd taken a quick tour of the yard. Who would have opened it? I heard the drone of a lawn mower coming from somewhere near the front yard.

Curious, I pushed open the gate and followed the sound. The droning grew louder, then stopped suddenly. As I rounded the side of the house and came to the small front yard, my gaze fell on someone hovering over the mower. I blinked hard. My stomach dropped. The guy in my dream was standing right before me.

Chapter 2

For a moment I just stood rooted to the ground and stared. I could hear him muttering at the lawnmower. The guy was wearing a blue windbreaker, a red bandana tied around his blond hair and a pair of white running shorts. The shorts showed off his well-formed muscles and bronze tan even more than when I'd spied him on the beach yesterday.

Moving closer, I cleared my throat loudly. "Oh, hi," he said, turning to look up at me. His face registered surprise. "I didn't realize anyone else was around."

"Hi." I swallowed hard. "Do...do you work for the Merritts?"

"Uh-huh. I come every Monday morning to mow the lawn. "Sometimes I do a little edging too."

I couldn't believe my good luck. Maybe I should pinch myself to make sure this wasn't another dream.

"Mr. Becker said everyone was heading into town this morning," the guy continued. "I guess he meant everyone but you." He grinned and his penetrating blue eyes held mine. "You do belong to the family who's staying here for the summer, don't you?"

"Uh...no. I mean, yes." I felt myself growing warm with embarrassment. "You've already met my dad?"

"Yes. I talked to him about an hour ago." He gestured towards the lawnmower. "Looks like I've run out of gas. I was going to get more last week, but forgot."

"What's your name?" I asked him. Who cared about the lawnmower?

"Jeff. Jeff Hollingsworth."

I introduced myself.

"Logan," he said slowly, as if turning my name over in his mind. "I like that."

I felt something soft and furry rubbing against my ankles and glanced down.

"Oh no! The cat," I exclaimed. "How'd she get out?" I ducked to scoop her into my arms, but I was seconds too late. With a flip of her black tail, she darted across the lawn as if intending to send me on a merry chase. The fake diamonds in her pink collar caught a glimmer of light.

Letting out a shriek of frustration, I sprinted after her, but she kept running. In no time, she'd scampered up the branches of a towering maple tree that stood next to the curb.

I craned my neck. The cat was crouched on a gnarled branch, her two slanted eyes glowing down at us between the foliage.

"Meow," she cried innocently.

"Great," I exclaimed, spreading my hands in exasperation. "Tricia said I'm not supposed to let her outside. I must've left the back door open. Now what am I going to do?"

"Hey, no sweat," Jeff said. "Stay here and keep talking to her so she doesn't try to go up any higher. I'll go get a ladder." It seemed like an eternity till he returned. In the meantime, I talked a blue-streak to Midnight, praying she'd stay put. Thank goodness, she did, though the pitch of her meowing was growing higher by the second.

Jeff rested a wooden ladder against the tree and started climbing.

"Careful," I called as I held onto the sides of the ladder to steady it. I looked up and watched him continue. The ladder creaked beneath his weight. "Are you sure it's safe?" I asked.

"Don't worry!" I could hear a hint of laughter in his voice. "I'm used to rescuing damsels in distress."

What was that supposed to mean? I wondered. Was he referring to the cat or me? I wasn't about to ask.

I saw him approach the branch where Midnight was perched. She edged away from him, bristled. Then I heard her hiss.

"Here kitty, kitty, kitty," Jeff crooned. Then more disgustedly, "Get over here, you stupid cat."

At last he managed to get a hold of her. He climbed back down with a now cooperative Midnight tucked in the crook of his arm. "There! Your feisty feline is safe and sound."

"Not my cat," I reminded him. I put on my most appreciative smile. "But, gosh, how can I ever thank you? I'd have had a terrible time trying to explain to Tricia that I let her pampered pet run away."

Jeff's eyes twinkled. "Aw, don't mention it." He stroked Midnight between her ears and she immediately began purring. "I've had to get her down from that tree a time or two before. She apparently hears the call of the wild and finds a way to get outside."

"You've been working here long?" I asked as I reached out to take the cat from him.

"A little over a year now. My father--he's a pediatrician--and Dr. Merritt practice at the same clinic here in town. I also mow lawns for a couple of other doctors." He darted a troubled look at the lawnmower. "Guess I'd better get back to work. But first that means a trip to the gas station. Want to ride along?"

"Sure. Why not?" Midnight was struggling to leap out of my arms. I could feel her claws digging into my skin. "Hold on. I've got to get this cat back inside before she tears me to shreds. And I'd better leave a note for my parents."

"While you do that, I'll wheel this lawnmower to the back yard. I'll meet you on the deck."

When I returned--I'd stolen a few precious minutes to recomb my hair and touch up my makeup--I found Jeff leaning against the deck railing, staring out over the ocean.

I paused in the doorway for a moment to simply admire his profile, the lean lines of his face, the way his mouth turned up in a relaxed smile. The wind was ruffling a few strands of hair that stuck out beneath his bandana and he appeared unaware of my presence. He looked so intense, so alive. My pulse raced and I felt this little catch at the back of my throat.

"I'm ready!" I announced airily.

He turned on his heel and sent me a disarming smile. "Okay! Then what are we waiting for?"

We strode out to the driveway. Jeff stood about a half a head taller than me--a little over six feet, I decided. I hate being seen with guys shorter than myself. It always makes me want to scrunch down so I don't look so tall. For dancers like myself, poor posture is definitely a no-no. Jeff's car turned out to be a sporty little red Porsche. "Wow!" I exclaimed, unable to take my eyes off it. "Did you buy that set of wheels with your lawn mowing money?"

He chuckled. "Not entirely. Last summer while my parents and I were on vacation in California, I entered my fifth surfing competition. To make a long story short, I placed first. The prize was cash. Later I added it to the money I'd already saved and came up with a decent down payment for the car."

"Wow! My dream was right," I blurted, before I could stop myself. So Jeff was a surfboarder....

"Excuse me?" he asked, cocking his head.

I grew suddenly warm. "Oh...nothing."

He held the door for me and I climbed in. The car even smelled new. I couldn't help being impressed with everything about Jeff.

As we backed out of the driveway and started towards town, my gaze swept the long row of beach homes. Some were tiny bungalows with weathered gray siding. Others were much larger and more modern like the Merritts' place.

Loud music blasted from the radio.

"So where do you surf when you're not in California?" I asked.

"Down on the south coast about eighty miles from here where the water is warmer," he answered. "It's called Pirate’s Cove. I'm heading down there tomorrow to meet some buddies who like to surf too. Should be back around nine at night." As he turned the Porsche onto the coast highway, he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the music.

We sped along. The woodsy smell of Alders wafted from somewhere nearby and I felt deliciously carefree and happy.

"So how do you think you're gonna like living here this summer?" Jeff asked as he steered the Porsche around a sweeping turn.

"I love it already! But I think I'll love it even more when the sun comes out," I added with a giggle. "I understand summers in western Oregon can be kind of wet sometimes."

His chin dimpled as his grin deepened. "I think you'll love it too. At least I do."

We passed a look-out spot where several cars and motor homes were parked. People stood next to the guard rail, peering out at the water.

"Are there any surfing contests here at Sunset Beach?" I asked. If there were, I'd be right there, cheering for him more loudly than anyone else.

"No. Just the sandcastle contest near the end of the summer." He gave a quick laugh. "I can't understand how grown people can get so turned on about it. As far as I'm concerned, sandcastles are for little kids."

An uncomfortable feeling filled me. Sand sculpting sounded like a lot of fun to me--maybe even an opportunity for creative expressions, just like dancing. Would Jeff think classical dancing was dumb too?

Quickly I changed the subject. "So what do you do when you're not going to school or surfing or mowing lawns?"

Jeff brought the car to a halt at a stop light and shifted gears. "I play varsity football and was elected as senior class president, so I'll be plenty busy once school starts."

It didn't surprise me. Just by watching the way Jeff carried himself, I could tell he was a real leader. I also liked the fact that he was a year older than me--I'd be a junior in the fall. I turned my attention back to what he was saying.

"A few of my friends are gone for the summer, but I guess I'll manage till they come back."

I nodded, thinking that's what Amy must be feeling too. This was the first time since we’d met five years ago that we'd been separated more than a week.

Jeff and I continued on past roadside motels, a couple of antique shops and a rock quarry. As we neared town, we came upon a gas station. We filled the gas can for the lawnmower and gassed up Jeff's car too. Then he pulled into a parking lot that fronted a small deli. "Surf and Sand" the sign in front read.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Hmm...maybe a little bit." Actually, I was famished. After giving up on Tricia's temperamental toaster, I hadn't eaten any breakfast at all.

"Good. Because I'm in the mood for a cheeseburger. And this place makes the best french fries in town." He glanced at his watch and added, "It usually gets packed with lots of tourists around noon but it's only eleven-thirty."

"Are you sure you can take the time? I mean, what about getting back to mow the lawn? It's only half done."

He sent me a crooked smile. "What's the big hurry? I've got all day. You did leave your parents a note, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Okay then. Relax."

I smiled back. Actually, I really didn't care whether he was missing an appointment with the President himself. I wanted to hold onto every minute Jeff and I could be together.

Inside, we found a cozy booth and sat down next to each other to study the menu. A name under the sandwich section intrigued me. "What is the Beachcomber's special?" I asked him.

Jeff's eyes sparkled and there was a teasing awareness to his smile. "That's nothing more than tuna and bean sprouts."

Wrinkling my nose, I giggled. "Yuck! Back home, my mom used to send tuna sandwiches in my lunch all the time. My whole locker used to smell fishy. Finally I begged her for something else."

"And what did she come up with?" he asked, meeting my gaze.

"She didn't. From that day on, I got to go through the cafeteria line. Mom and I always hated to pack lunches." The waitress took our order. I decided, of course, to pass on the Beachcomber Special and settle on a cheeseburger too. The delicious smells of fried food drifted from the grill, and my stomach rumbled with hunger.

I felt a blast of cool air and glanced over to the front door of the deli. Three girls about my age were laughing and talking as they breezed past the check out counter and slipped into a booth not far from ours. One of the girls--a petite little blonde with a ski-jump nose--stared at us for a second, then turned her attention back to the others.

In no time, our food arrived. While we ate, Jeff and I compared notes about our schools and made small talk. More people filtered into the cafe. Some were toting cameras and carrying road maps.

I couldn't help noticing that the girl across from us was continuing to stare. Then she leaned across the table and whispered something to her friends. Now they were staring too.

Somehow, I got the feeling they weren't tourists. Maybe the blonde was a girlfriend of Jeff's--or someone who wanted to be. Considering his terrific build and good looks, he must have tons of female admirers, I decided.

Jeff just kept talking to me, apparently oblivious to the girls. Maybe he was trying to ignore them. "There's going to be a big party on the beach a week from this Friday night," he said, taking a bite of his cheeseburger. "At Eagle Point--our favorite hangout--north of the jetty. Some of the kids are going early to build a bonfire and set up volley ball nets."

"Sounds like fun," I answered as my stomach turned cartwheels. Was Jeff getting ready to ask me to go to the party with him? Undoubtedly he belonged to a cool crowd. That's what I'd always longed for back at home. Oh, don't get me wrong. I have lots of friends, boys and girls both-- but most of them aren't football players, cheerleaders or class presidents.

I swirled my straw in my frosty glass of soda, then finished drinking it. "So tell me more about the beach party," I prompted. "It sounds like a blast."

"Oh, Jeffie!"

Frustration sliced through me. Quickly I flicked my gaze to the caller. The blonde was waving to get Jeff's attention, but she was also scowling.

"Hi, Stacey," he answered flatly. He sent her a wan smile then focused his attention back to our conversation. "You're right, Logan. The party will be--"

"What are you doing here?" Stacey interrupted, her voice rising. She looked right past me, her eyes flashing.

"I'm taking a break from my work. This is going to be a busy day."

"Oh really? You don't look so busy." Sarcasm laced her words as she gave me a quick once-over.

"Well, I am, Stacey. You know I work for the Merritts every Monday--not to mention my other jobs the rest of the week."

"And who is this?" she asked, nodding to me. "Your business partner?" She wrapped a strand of her long hair around her finger and waited for him to reply, but Jeff didn't give her the chance.

"Come on, Logan," he said under his breath. "It's time to get out of here."

Chapter 3

Minutes later, we sped away from the deli. A light rain had begun to fall and I could hear it pattering against the roof of the car.

"Who was that blonde?" I asked Jeff.

An annoyed look crossed his face. He kept staring straight ahead. "Someone from my school. Her name's Stacey Engles."

"Is she your girlfriend?" There was no point beating around the bush. Her annoyance with Jeff had been all too obvious.

"Stacey's no friend of mine." He slowed the car as we approached a flashing yellow light, then added, "Stacey's a number one trouble-maker. She's got a mouth that won't quit."

"Oh." I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or more worried. Maybe I was simply misjudging Jeff, but I sensed he wasn't telling me everything. Why did Stacey appear so upset that Jeff and I were together if she really didn't like him?

"I know her type," I went on, trying to sound convincing. "We have trouble-makers at our high school too. Always trying to stir things up." It appeared he didn't want to talk about her anymore, so I didn't press him with further questions.

Jeff turned off the coast highway onto a narrow gravel road. We passed a kite shop on the corner, then ascended the small rise that led back to the Merritts' house. So far, Jeff hadn't said any more about the beach party. But there was plenty of time, I tried to reassure myself. Almost two whole weeks. I'd simply die if he didn't ask me. I was sure he was going to do that before Stacey had interrupted us.

Back home, Jeff continued mowing the lawn while I went upstairs to my room. The light drizzle had stopped, barely moistening the grass. As I stole an occasional glance out the bedroom window that looked onto the back yard, I could see he'd soon be done.

For a second, I considered dashing down there to hang out with him some more, but decided against it. Better to play it cool and wait for him to make the next move...

I flopped down on Tricia's mint green comforter. The sweet smells of dried rose petals drifted from the jar of potpourri on top of her bureau. I glanced about the room, almost feeling Tricia's presence. Though I had never met her, I could tell she and I were so different. Her bedroom was decorated with pastel colors and ruffles and lace. My room back in Minnesota had bold, clean lines--done in red, white, and blue. I wondered if Tricia was lying on my bed right now, too, mulling over our differences.

At least Amy and I were a lot alike, I decided. That's why we'd been best friends for so many years. She's probably eager to hear all about Sunset Beach--and Jeff, I thought as I sat up and reached for my box of stationary. And I was eager to get started telling her:

Dear Amy, (I wrote)

You'll never believe what a fantastic first couple of days I've spent here on the Oregon coast--though I must confess, we still haven't seen the sun.

Remember how I told you I've been dreaming of meeting a real Beach Boy? Well, already I've found him. He's tall and blond and muscular with a build that would knock you out. And his fabulous blue eyes seem to look right through you. Best of all, he's a surfer! Just like in all those old movies we used to watch during our sleep-overs.

I met him this morning while he was doing yard work for the Merritts. What luck! Here I thought I'd have to search long and hard and all the time he was waiting practically on my very own doorstep.

Today I rode into town with him. Hold onto your seat-- he drives a fiery red Porsche and paid for part of it with the money he won at a surfing contest in California!

While we had lunch at this deli, he mentioned this cool beach party coming up in about two weeks. I'm dying for him to ask me to go there with him, but I think he might already have a girlfriend. Anyway, keep your fingers crossed for me. I'm not giving up hope!

So what's going on back in good ol' Rochester and how are dance classes? Have you met Tricia, the girl who's living in our house? Yesterday after we first arrived, I found a note from her here in her room. She sounds nice. And she has this absolutely pesky, but adorable black cat. Good thing I'm not superstitious. I can't let anything ruin my chances for a hot summer romance.

Anyway, have fun and don't do anything I wouldn't do. I'll write more later and keep you posted on my love life. Oh, by the way, the guy's name is Jeff Hollingsworth! Isn't that classic? It even sounds like someone straight out of a movie.

Well, ta ta. Say hi to Miss Bernstein for me. Maybe you can remind her that when I come back from a summer in God's country (that's what my mother calls Oregon), I'll be so inspired by all the beautiful scenery, my creative expression will be better than ever.

Love and kisses,

Logan

Next morning I decided to walk to the post office and mail my letter to Amy. I rummaged through my opened suitcase for a book of stamps--I still hadn't finished unpacking. Midnight, curled into a ball, was snoozing contentedly on top of my best blouse.

As I kept searching through my suitcase, the cat opened one amber eye half-way. Then she fixed me with a watchful stare as if daring me to make her move. I didn't. But I didn't find the stamps either.

"Don't worry, Miss High and Mighty," I said to the cat. "I won't make you get down from your throne."

Shrugging into my zippered sweatshirt, I snapped on my fanny pack and stuffed the letter inside it. When I get to the post office, I'll have to buy more stamps too, I told myself. The walk would feel good. Besides, I needed to keep in shape while I was away from my dance classes.

I stepped outside, making sure the door was shut tightly behind me. Midnight might smell the fresh air and sneak outside again. I was in no mood to chase her.

I looked about and realized the sun was shining. At last! There wasn't a single cloud in the azure sky.

The muffled roar of the ocean rose up from the beach. I shaded my eyes with my hand and gazed over the water, mesmerized. The sunlight shimmered off the white-tipped waves. The water seemed to go on and on forever, finally meeting the west horizon.

Suddenly my plans were laid aside. I had to walk again on the beach. I longed to discover the sensation of the hot sand beneath my bare feet. I needed to feel the brisk ocean breeze cooling my sun-warmed face.

Striding through knee-high grass, I came to the wooden stairs that led down to the beach. I paused to gaze at a seagull gliding on a current of air. It let out a raucous screech.

At the bottom of the stairs, smooth rocks were fitted tightly together like a huge slate-colored collage. I picked my way carefully over them. The beach appeared empty.

The rocks gave way to a sun-dried strip of sand. I kicked off my sandals and squealed with delight. Just as I'd imagined! The sand felt hot and crusty beneath my feet, no longer shivery cold as it had yesterday.

I squatted to scoop up the fine white grains, watching them sparkle in the sunlight, letting them sift through my fingers. They felt wonderful, like liquid satin. As I continued closer to the water's edge, the crusty surface merged into to a cooler, grayer band of wet sand.

The sound of the rolling surf filled my senses. Music. I could swear I heard music. Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake perhaps. Or was it simply the rise and fall of the ocean?

Energy flowed through me. The music seemed to grow louder. My body responded without hesitation as I began to dance. Leaping in a grand jete, I flung my arms skyward.

The energy surged faster. I danced on and on, tirelessly. The breeze whipped through my hair, tossing wispy strands across my face.

"Wow! Where'd you learn to dance like that?"

Without warning, the music inside me stopped. Startled, I turned around abruptly.

A short, lean boy with medium brown hair and sunglasses stared at me. He carried a dark green plastic bag and appeared to be about my age.

I felt myself grow warm with embarrassment. If I had known someone was watching, I wouldn't have gotten so carried away.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"My name's Grant Duncan. I...I couldn't help admiring your dancing. Are you a pro?"

"No, but I want to be. I study at Miss Bernstein's School of Dance in Minnesota."

His eyebrows raised. "Minnesota? You're a long ways from home."

I explained how I'd come to live in Oregon for the summer and about my aspirations to win a scholarship. "I'll graduate from high school in two years," I added.

"Ah, then you're the girl who's staying at the Merritts' place. Tricia said there'd be a family coming with two kids--a boy and a girl."

I couldn't hide my surprise. "You know the Merritts?"

"A little. Sunset Beach is a small place, you know, so most everyone does get acquainted in one way or another." He hesitated, clasping the garbage bag more closely to him.

I couldn't help comparing Grant with Jeff. Grant was almost a foot shorter than Jeff. Though Grant had a rather ordinary, but agreeable appearance, I didn't feel fire works going off inside of me as I did with Jeff.

"So what's your name?" Grant asked, yanking off the rubber gloves he was wearing and stuffing them into his jacket pocket.

"Logan." I didn't bother telling him my last name. Somehow it didn't seem that important. My gaze dropped to the plastic bag that bulged awkwardly at the bottom. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Picking up garbage."

"What?"

He raised his voice. "I said picking up garbage. I walk on the beach as often as I can to collect all the junk that doesn't belong here."

My mouth dropped open in astonishment as I looked down at him. "Is someone paying you to do this? I mean, is this your summer job?" Somehow, I couldn't picture Jeff collecting other people's trash.

Grant laughed--a nice, friendly sound. "No. My paid job is working at my folk's art gallery. They specialize in hand-made pottery. We moved here and started the business a little less than a year ago."

"So what kind of trash do you find?" I asked, growing increasingly curious. I fell into step alongside of him as he continued ambling down the beach.

"Oh, lots of things." He pulled out his gloves again, slipped them back on, and stooped to pick up a pop can glinting in the sun. "Stuff like this, for instance. But if you want to get a better idea, go into town some time and look at my project."

"Your project?"

"Yes. I put together everything I've found so far this summer on a big piece of tagboard. Then I got City Hall to agree to put it in their display window. I thought it would help raise people's awareness. Everyone has to do his share to help preserve the environment, you know."

I nodded. "Well, if you're not getting paid to do this, then you must be a Boy Scout or something." I still couldn't imagine anyone picking up garbage just because they wanted to. "Is this a project to earn some special award?" I continued.

He blushed and for the first time I spotted a smattering of brown freckles across his cheeks.

"Oh, no. Nothing like that. I like to spend time on the beach. Lately, though, I've noticed how some people are abusing it, especially after there's been an exceptionally large crowd."

"I suppose so," I said politely. Grant certainly seemed to take life seriously for a kid my age. Though I agreed everyone should help keep the Planet beautiful, I couldn't help wonder whether he ever took time off to have fun. Maybe he should take a lesson or two from someone like Jeff.

"Speaking of large crowds, there's going to be a sandcastle contest here early in August," Grant went on. "We used to have one back in my home town in Florida too. I entered it practically every summer I can remember."

I nodded, remembering how quickly Jeff had put the contest down.

"Are you going to enter this one too?" I asked. We passed a couple of joggers and a collie running next to them. The sun shone hot against my back.

"Uh-huh." Grant pointed to a smooth log and motioned for us to sit down. "People who come into the gallery say the contest is Sunset Beach's biggest event of the summer. If it's anything like what I'm used to, then it should really be something."

Digging my toes into the warm sand, I met his smile and decided maybe there was another side to Grant--maybe he wasn't totally serious after all.

"I've seen pictures in books of different types of sandcastles," I told him, "and they've always fascinated me."

"Want to learn how to make one?" he asked. "I bet you're a natural."

I thought about Jeff again. What if he'd changed his mind about going to Pirate's Cove today and showed up here on the beach instead? Would he think I was acting like a little kid? Part of me yearned to tell Grant yes, the other part of me longed to please Jeff.

"Well?" Grant said, his eyes meeting mine. "What do you say?"

I sucked in a deep breath before answering.

Chapter 4

"Good! I hoped you'd say yes." Grant sprang to his feet. "All you need is wet sand that's not messed up with any small rocks or pieces of seaweed and something with a solid, straight edge. Sometimes it also helps to use spray bottles filled with water," he added. "The important thing is to keep your sand from drying out."

I stood up, too, then spied a scrap of shingle on the other side of the log. It must've blown off somebody's roof during a windstorm. I picked it up and asked, "Will this do for our scraping tool?"

"That's perfect." He grinned. "I usually work about fifteen feet from the water. Of course that's not a hard and fast rule, considering the tide is always going out or coming in. And after a hard rain...well, you can make your sand sculpture almost anywhere."

We found the ideal spot, a place where the sand appeared neither too dry nor too mushy. I watched with fascination as Grant drew an outline in the sand, mounded up a pile, then began carving away with the shingle. His strokes were bold and self-assured. In no time I could see the perfect likeness of an Egyptian pyramid. Its well-defined angles cast a shadow on the beach.

"Wow!" I breathed. "You make that look so easy."

"It is. Try it."

Imitating Grant's motions, I formed a small bank of damp sand and began sculpting my own pyramid a few feet away from his. But to my disappointment, it looked more like a crumbly piece of cake.

"Easy, huh?" I giggled. "If this is easy, then so is walking on water."

He laughed. "It just takes practice, Logan. The secret, though, is remembering to get your angles and corners sharp and crisp and, of course, keeping the sand moist."

We spent the next hour or so making more sculptures. Grant demonstrated how to drip wet sand to look like spires on a castle and how to create special affects with bits of seaweed, shells and pebbles.

"This has been fun, but I've got to go," I finally said, thinking again about Jeff. "Before I came down to the beach, I was on my way to the post office to mail this letter. Somehow I let myself get side-tracked." I fished my envelope out of my fanny pack and waved it in the air for proof.

I thought I detected a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes, but his voice remained even. "Nice meeting you, Logan. Hope I'll see you around."

"Sure," I said with a nonchalant wave and started walking away from him. A second later, before I ascended the stairs, I tossed one final glance at Grant over my shoulder.

He was busy again picking up garbage.

I bit my lip to keep from giggling. What a weird way to spend a perfect day on the beach.

***

"This is quite a town," Dad said as he plopped four generous-sized T-bone steaks onto the kettle shaped barbecue. "I think we made a good decision, Joyce," he added turning to my mother. "I always wanted to see what it'd be like taking care of someone else's place for a while."

My parents and I were sitting around the circular picnic table on the deck, comparing notes about our third day in Oregon.

"Yes, dear, I think you're right," Mom said as she smiled back at him. "And I certainly hope the Merritts are enjoying our home as much as I'm already enjoying theirs."

"Think they'll find time to get up to the twin cities?" Dad asked. A cloud of smoke rose up from the barbecue grill and the pungent smells of spicy marinade permeated the air.

"Oh, I certainly hope so. I hope their research project doesn't take up all their time," my mother answered.

"Yuk! Steak!" Monty bounded through the french doors that led onto the deck. "I thought we were having spaghetti. That's what you promised, Mom. You know spaghetti's my favorite!"

"Sorry, Monty," my mother said. "I changed my mind. Now that the weather's turned out so lovely, I thought it'd be a good time for a steak fry. We can have spaghetti tomorrow."

Monty would be a good vegetarian, I decided, eyeing his skinny little body and shock of red hair. Even when we did have spaghetti, he usually picked most of the meat out of it. "I want to go to the beach," my brother continued to whine. "Hey Dad. Hey Mom. You promised."

"Maybe tonight before the sun goes down," Dad said,

pulling out a deck chair from the table and sitting in it.

I suspected the reason Monty was being so difficult was because he was bored. Unexpectedly a bright idea popped into my head.

"Listen, little brother," I told him. "After our barbecue, we can take a bucket and shovel to the beach and play in the sand. I've got some neat stuff to show you."

"Cool! Let's do that, sissy."

"Wonderful suggestion!" my mother put in, nodding in approval.

I smiled to myself. This was a good chance to practice what Grant had taught me--plus pass the time tonight till Jeff came back at nine.

Hopefully Jeff would call me then. And if for some reason he arrived earlier than nine and decided to go for another walk on the beach where my brother and I were building sandcastles, I could use Monty as my excuse.

"Did you remember to bring your new book about sea shells?" Dad asked Monty. "This would be a good time to get started seeing how many you can identify."

Without answering, my brother shrugged his shoulders and wandered back inside the house where he'd left the TV blaring full blast. It was obvious Monty was in no mood for nature lessons.

Sometimes I wondered whether my parents could ever take a vacation without thinking about teaching. Dad teaches a class of lively fifth graders at a nearby elementary school while my mother is the chairman of the history department at a private college.

"Monty needs to meet some kids his age in Sunset Beach," I told my parents.

"Well, at least you're not having any trouble," Dad said, grinning. He picked up the thongs, turned over the steak and added, "I expect Jeff will be back to mow the lawn in another week or so. Maybe next time you two run into town for an errand, you might take Monty along too."

"Dad!" I protested. The last thing I wanted to do was drag my little brother along when Jeff and I were together.

My father winked and chuckled. "Just teasing, sugar. I'm sure, given enough time, your brother won't have any problem meeting friends also."

After dinner I found an old spray bottle in the laundry room, then traipsed out to the storage shed to collect a couple of trowels, a small bucket and a spatula. Next Monty and I went to the beach where our parents were already taking their usual evening walk.

Monty caught onto sand sculpting faster than I expected--no crumbling pieces of cake for this kid. My plan had worked even better than I'd expected.

Soon we'd built a medieval type castle sitting high on a hill with motes and turrets and drawbridges. I loved the feeling of the cool wet sand beneath my palms, the contrast of angles against contours, the play of shadow and light.

Though Grant had not impressed me as anyone I'd want to go out with, I was glad he'd introduced me to this new past-time. Creating sandcastles made me want to stretch my wings and see what else I could make--the way I often felt when I was dancing.

The sun was beginning to slip down out of sight, a blazing orange ball against a backdrop of clear blue. I spotted Mom and Dad walking back towards us. "Think they might want to help?" I questioned Monty, nodding my head in their direction.

"Oh, let's ask!" he exclaimed. He dropped his bucket and ran to greet them.

Our parents were eager to join in. Right from the start, we made a terrific team. After Mom and I had drawn a new outline, Monty and Dad shoveled with their hands. My brother's special job was to keep the sand moist by sprinkling it with our spray bottle.

"This reminds me of the Marksburg," Mom said, standing back to admire our work. "It's the only Rhine castle left standing," she added.

"No, no, I'd call it the Mont St. Michel," Dad debated good-naturedly. "Look at those spires. Don't they look just like it?" It'd been a long time since our family had had time to spend together and I couldn't help enjoying myself. Back home, it seemed everyone was so busy with work and school.

As a soft purple dusk settled over the beach, we headed back up the steps and hosed off the sand from our bare feet. It was almost nine now and I was anxious to get back inside the house in case Jeff tried to call. Mom and Dad said they wanted to sit on the deck a while longer and enjoy the last traces of daylight, so Monty and I were the first to go inside.

Flipping on the overhead light, we padded our way across the living room carpet. My feet--still cold from the hose water--sank into the soft plush fibers.

Suddenly I heard a meow. Then another. I looked up. Midnight sat importantly on the desk next to the telephone while the receiver dangled in mid-air.

Chapter 5

"So what are your plans today?" Mom looked up from the road map she was studying, her brows raised. "Now that Dad and Monty are gone on their chartered fishing trip, you and I will have plenty of time to ourselves," she added.

"I don't have any plans," I answered dully. I ran my finger over a crumb on the dining room table where my mother and I'd finished eating breakfast together. Actually, my real plan was to stick around the house.

Our second week in Oregon had dragged by and I hadn't heard from Jeff. He hadn't shown up to mow the lawn either. Now it was Friday--the night of the beach party. What if it'd been Jeff who phoned last week when Midnight knocked off the receiver? He might try to call again.

"No plans?" Mom's voice, fringed with anticipation, pulled me out of my thoughts. "Then let's go into town and browse."

"Maybe some other time," I said. I managed a smile. "I'm waiting to hear from Jeff. It's very important."

She picked up her cardigan sweater off the back of the dining room chair and returned my smile. "Ah ha! Now the truth comes out. But I do understand, darling."

A far-away look came into her eyes. "I remember once when I was hoping your father would ask me out, I even put my best friend up to calling him, pretending she was conducting a survey. She asked how he liked to spend his weekends, and he told her digging ditches." My mother let out a quick laugh and raked her hands through her frosted brown hair. "I guess the minute he heard her question, he figured out what we were up to."

I grinned. "I can't imagine you doing that, Mom."

She stood up and smoothed my hair. "Well, I did. I was young once too, don't forget."

I could smell the sweet scent of her lily-of-the-valley perfume and tried to imagine my mother as a teenager. "So you don't mind going today without me?" I asked, feeling a little guilty.

"Of course not. Just as soon as I throw another load of laundry into the washing machine, I'm planning to leave. I want to take another look at that little Christmas store on the main street."

"Christmas store!" I giggled. "Who wants to look at Christmas stuff in the middle of June?"

"People are getting ready for Christmas earlier all the time." She gave me a knowing look and lowered her voice. I'm not sure why, though, because the only one around was Midnight who was snoozing next to her feeding dish. "Don't tell your dad, but I'm going to buy him a beautiful hand- carved figure of Father Time," Mom continued. "He's been saying we need a special Christmas heirloom to pass down to you children some day."

Nodding, a vision flashed through my mind. A middle- aged Jeff and me unwrapping Christmas ornaments from tissue paper lined boxes, our kids--maybe three or more--gathered around us. I gave my head a quick shake and smiled.

Later as I listened to my mother backing the car out of the driveway, I cleared the table and carried the dishes into the kitchen.

I was finally alone. Alone to wait for Jeff's call. I already knew exactly what I'd wear to the beach party--my new navy blue sweatshirt with the white lettering that said Oregon Coast--and my best cut-off jeans.

Outside on the window sill, a gray and white seagull sat peering at me. I loved the way he cocked his head to one side and blinked intelligently.

For the next few hours I tried to keep busy. I ironed a couple of blouses that Midnight had slept on in my suitcase and wrote postcards to some of the kids back in Rochester. But by mid-afternoon, the phone hadn't rung. Maybe Jeff's busy doing yard work at someone else's house, I tried to reassure myself. Or maybe he never planned to call me at all.

At the thought, a pang shot through me. Yes, that was it. Jeff had never intended to invite me to that party in the first place. Despite what he'd said about Stacey, he was probably taking her instead. What a fool I'd been to think I stood a chance with him.

Snatching my windbreaker out of the coat closet, I decided to take a walk on the beach. The sunshine and fresh air would help take my mind off Jeff. There was no point hanging around any longer.

Just as I was locking the back door, the phone on the hallway desk jangled. I dashed to answer it, but Midnight had already leaped onto the counter. In a flash, she knocked off the receiver.

"Hello? Is anybody there?" a guy's voice on the other end was saying.

I grabbed the phone as a streak of black fur passed before my eyes. The cat landed on all fours and vanished down the hallway.

"Yes! Yes! Don't hang up!" I yelled into the phone. "Midnight knocked off the receiver--just like she always does."

"Who's Midnight?"

"Who's Midnight? Midnight's the cat!" Why would Jeff ask a question like that? I wondered, a sickening feeling growing inside of me.

"This is Grant... Grant Duncan. A cat, you say?" He chuckled. "I guess that's what happened when I tried to phone you before."

Reality pressed down on me. So the caller last week had been Grant, not Jeff. Just like it was Grant's voice I was hearing right now...

"In case you forgot, I'm the guy who showed you how to build sandcastles," Grant continued after an awkward silence. I swallowed back my disappointment. "Oh hi. How's it going?"

"Great. Hey, Logan. I hope you don't mind me calling on short notice like this, but I...I wondered if you'd like to go to the new oceanography museum in Mayport with me tonight."

"The oceanography museum?"

"Yeah. They're showing a terrific documentary on how oil spills affect the wildlife on the beaches."

How exciting, I groaned to myself. I mean, I believe in protecting the beaches and seagulls and all the other animals too. But was this really his idea of a hot Friday night?

"Gosh, Grant," I answered. "That's nice of you to ask me. But...but I have other plans for this evening." Like staying home to help Dad and Monty clean the fish they caught today, I thought dolefully. If I couldn't go to the beach party with Jeff, then I wasn't going anywhere.

"Oh. Of course. I should've known better...calling on such short notice, I mean."

"No problem. Thanks anyway," I said, forcing friendliness into my voice.

"See you around later, Logan."

"Yeah. Later."

I hung up the phone and started to cry....

Blowing my nose, I splashed cold water onto my face and decided it was time to quit feeling sorry for myself. If Jeff wasn't going to ask me to the party, then I'd simply show up by myself. I'd start by asking my parents to let me use their car. Then I'd follow the signs on the highway to Eagle Point. If this was the place on the beach where all the cool kids hung out as Jeff had indicated, it shouldn't be too hard to find.

Normally I don't believe in crashing parties, but I figured this time it was different. After all, the beach was for everyone, wasn't it? Still, I had some misgivings.

After Dad and Monty arrived home and finished cleaning their fish--the two biggest salmon I'd ever seen--Dad agreed to let me go. "We won't be needing the car anyway," he said, washing his hands at the kitchen sink. "Your mother tells me Mr. and Mrs. Varner, the elderly couple next door, have invited us in for coffee and dessert."

"Make sure you use plenty of soap," my mother teased Dad from the laundry room in back of the kitchen. "I wouldn't advise showing up at our neighbor's place smelling like fish--even if the Varners are seasoned beach dwellers."

Dad shot her a knowing smile, but I could tell he was proud of his catch. Already he was talking about the next time he and Monty would go out on the charter boat again.

Thinking about fishing boats also made me think about the beach--and tonight's party. Unexpectedly a plan took shape in my mind. I really wouldn't have to crash the party at all. Didn't everyone around here walk their dogs on the beach? Maybe I should go to the pet store in town and buy Midnight a leash. What did it matter if she was a cat? It gave me the perfect excuse.

I waited till Mom, Dad, and Monty left, then drove to the pet store. Good thing it stayed open late on Friday nights. Good thing, too, I'd saved the money I earned baby- sitting the neighbor kids back in Rochester. I'd probably need every penny.

Stepping inside, I found the saleslady. "I'm here to buy a leash for my cat," I said. I went on to explain that while Midnight normally stayed indoors, I'd decided she was getting fat and needed some exercise. "You know, like Morris--too much lasagne," I quickly added.

The saleslady's mouth quirked a little, but if she doubted my story, she wasn't letting on. "Well, that shouldn't be much of a problem," she said. "But what about a carrying case? Are you going to drive to this place where you say you plan to walk your cat?"

"Yes! I'm taking her to the beach...Eagle Point."

"I see. Then I'd recommend our Kitty Kare traveler." She gave a nod. "Right here on the top shelf."

I turned over the price tag. $15.95. Whew! This was getting more expensive that I'd expected. If I bought the carrying case, too, I'd only have $3.19 left. Still, I had no choice. Midnight would go wild inside the car without it. "Yes, I'll take the Kitty Kare traveler too," I told the saleslady.

Digging into my wallet, I slowly counted out my crisp hard-earned dollar bills and handed them over. This better be worth it, I muttered to myself as I drove back home to pick up the cat.

Later I parked the car in the narrow dirt lot that faced the beach at Eagle's Point. As I'd hoped, the spot had been easy to find. Right away I noticed Jeff's Porsche parked at the end of the row. My heart raced.

Midnight sat erect inside the carrying case, eyes wide, meowing nervously. "Here kitty," I said in my most soothing voice as I opened the latch on the cage door. "Nice Midnight." I stroked her glossy fur and she began purring. Then I snapped the leash to her collar and picked my way down a grassy trail.

Midnight sashayed alongside of me, stopping to sniff at clusters of chamomile. She held her tail high--curved at the tip like a giant question mark. Apparently she was already enjoying her adventure.

As I drew closer to the beach, I heard music. Faint at first. Then it grew louder. It must be coming from somebody's boombox, I decided. I smelled burning driftwood and spied a wispy column of smoke curling upward. Soon I came to the top of a broad sand dune and stopped.

Beyond, about two dozen high school kids were congregated around the fire. Though I could see them toasting marshmallows, I was too far away to tell whether Jeff was with them.

The sun had set about an hour ago. The sky, streaked in shades of purple, peach, and gray, reminded me of an oil painting I'd seen in an art gallery in town.

I led Midnight in the direction of the bonfire. It snapped and crackled and sent up little orange sparks against the darkening sky. Now I could see the kids' faces better. No Jeff.

Farther down the beach, a volleyball game was in full progress. There were probably twenty players or more. That's where he must be, I decided. Stacey too...

As I passed by the bonfire, I tried to appear nonchalant. Yet Midnight wanted to stop and sniff every new rock on the beach. "You're acting more like a dog than a cat!" I scolded her under my breath.

She squinted up at me and blinked twice as if asking, "Isn't that what you wanted me to do?"

Suddenly a girl wearing a red and white swim suit stared at us. "Hey!" she shouted, pointing. "Someone's walking a cat!"

A ripple of laughter rose up, but I held my head high and just kept walking.

"How weird!" another girl put in. "Maybe she doesn't know the difference between a cat and a dog."

More laughter followed.

Their banter didn't disturb me. My real mission was to find Jeff. Then I spotted him. My guess had been right. He and Stacey were standing next to each other playing volleyball. Shrieks of laughter filled the air.

I stopped to watch. Jeff had just smashed the ball over the net. Someone on the other side shouted as he lunged to meet the ball. Jeff stood poised and waiting. His well- formed muscles rippled from beneath his navy blue tank-top. A thrill coursed through me.

For a moment I considered what to do. I had to play it cool. I mean, I couldn't go running up to Jeff in the middle of the game, waving my arms to get his attention. Then there was Stacey...

Averting my gaze, I broke into a leisurely stride. At first Midnight tugged at the leash, but then she trotted cooperatively next to me. I prayed Jeff would see me. I'd take my time, not going too far in hopes he'd decide to follow.

A narrow stream emerged before me, one that flowed off the rocky cliff bordering the beach. I picked Midnight up and jumped over it, then continued walking.

Behind me, the shouts and laughter began to fade. Dusk was closing in. I peered ahead towards a dark finger of land that reached into the ocean. A lighthouse beacon flashed. The horn from a distant ship sounded mournfully. Suddenly the beach felt empty and lonely. I shivered.

"Logan! Wait up!"

I spun around and saw Jeff sprinting towards me. My spirits soared, chasing away the emptiness. I gave a quick wave, waiting for him to catch up.

"I saw you while we were playing volleyball," he called, drawing nearer. "I was hoping you wouldn't get too far out of sight."

I squirmed beneath his steady gaze. "Uh...Midnight and I...we were just out driving around. I...I decided to stop and take her for a walk...You know how she always wants to get outside..."

His gaze dropped to the cat and his mouth fell open. "Gosh, that is Midnight! I thought you were carrying somebody's little black dog!" He hesitated, frowning. "I don't think Tricia would like this. Maybe you'd better take the cat home."

"What's the matter?" I asked. "Midnight's on a leash-- there's no way she can get away from me. And this is certainly a lot safer than the times you say she's climbed up the maple tree."

He shrugged. "Maybe you've got a point. Mind if I walk with you?"

"No...Not at all." I slanted him a glance as we broke into full stride. In the twilight, his blue eyes seemed even bluer--like the deep indigo of the waves slapping against the shore. His blond hair lifted in the breeze. This time he wasn't wearing his bandana.

Midnight began to squirm so I tightened my grip on her and stroked her behind the ears. She purred again like a motor boat.

"The magic touch," Jeff said with a laugh, pausing alongside of me. "But I still don't think you'd better try this too often. You'll have that cat so spoiled before Tricia gets home, she'll never forgive you."

"Tricia's already spoiled her," I reminded him. "Good thing the fish market is running a special on albacore tuna. So far that's all she'll eat."

He laughed again. "Doesn't surprise me."

We threaded our way farther down the shoreline. I decided it was simpler carrying the cat than walking her, so I kept her in my arms.

Overhead the stars were poking through the darkening sky. A full moon glided above the sawtooth edge of trees on the hillside to the east. The moon's light flooded the beach with a milky glow.

We talked and laughed almost as if we'd known each other forever. On occasion our shoulders touched and each time a thrill coursed through me. The night was so romantic. But what about Stacey? I wondered. Was she back at the party this very moment, fuming because Jeff had left her?

He stooped to pick up a pebble, then skipped it across the water. "I'm going surfing again at Pirate’s Cove in a couple of weeks," he told me. "I need to start getting ready for my next competition."

"Can I go with you?" I blurted out, unable to contain my excitement. "I've never watched a real surfer. Except in movies, of course."

His eyes met mine. "Sure. We'll head out early." He darted me a disarming smile and touched my chin. I was sure he was going to kiss me--any moment now.

Suddenly I felt a swift tug on the leash. Looking down, I gasped. Midnight had jerked the leash free and disappeared into the shadows.

Chapter 6

"Jeff! Help. Midnight's run away!"

Frantically I scanned the broad sweep of sand, but the cat was no where in sight. From farther down the beach, I heard a dog barking.

Already Jeff was jogging ahead of me. I took off after him, grateful for the moonlight. I'd forgotten to put a flashlight in my fanny pack and I doubted Jeff had one either.

"Over there!" he stopped, pointed towards a pile of driftwood, and began picking his way over it. "I think she chased that Pomeranian!" he shouted back to me. "She's got him cornered up against a log."

I ran up behind him and spied Midnight--hissing, back bristled and nearly twice the dog's size. Her eyes glowed like miniature lanterns.

Jeff scooped the cat up into his arms. "You should know better than to chase dogs," he scolded. "You're darned lucky this one's so small."

"Rusty! Rusty! Where are you?" A boy's voice called. He was running frantically towards us, carrying a Frisbee.

"Is this your dog?" Jeff asked.

"Yes!" The boy moved closer, scrambled over the driftwood and picked up the Pomeranian. "Thanks! Thanks a bunch, you guys. Rusty wasn't supposed to get away."

"Neither was Midnight," Jeff grumbled, but the boy didn't seem to hear him nor notice the cat. In a flash, he'd disappeared.

Jeff turned to face me, trying to calm a still feisty Midnight. "Logan. Do me a favor." His voice sounded strained. "Don't ever bring this cat outside again. Even on a leash."

"Okay." I shrugged. "How was I supposed to know she'd take off after a dog, of all things! If she never gets outside, she shouldn't even know what one is."

"Ha! Not Midnight."

I sent Jeff a tight-lipped smile, knowing I couldn't tell him the real reason I'd brought Midnight here. Besides, why did her safety matter to him? Maybe he figured since the Merritts had hired him to take care of their yard, he was responsible for the cat too.

We sauntered back towards the bonfire, but it appeared everyone had gone. From inside the fire pit, the last embers barely glowed. Again I wondered about Stacey. She was probably so upset with Jeff for taking off, she'd left to go home with someone else, I decided. Yet part of me was glad she had gone. I wasn't in the mood for any more confrontations.

All-too-soon Jeff walked me back to my car. After helping me put Midnight securely back inside the carrier, he said good-bye.

"'Night, Jeff," I replied softly. I lingered for a moment, staring into his eyes, but he gave no further indication of trying to kiss me.

"See you next time I come to mow the lawn," he said, moving towards the Porsche. "Monday, I suppose."

"Yeah, Monday..." I tossed him another longing glance, then got inside my car. Gravel crunched beneath the wheels as I sped away.

Monday morning when I opened the mailbox, I spotted a letter for me. It was from Amy. I'd recognized her large loopy handwriting in a flash. Clasping the letter, I hurried inside the house and flopped down on the closest chair in the living room. Then I began reading:

Dear Logan,

Thanks a bunch for your letter. I can hardly wait to hear about your date with Jeff. He sounds like an absolute dream. You are so lucky!

Even though you were still waiting for him to ask you to the beach party when you wrote last time, I just know he did. Don't ask me how--woman's intuition, I guess.

By the way, don't worry that he might already have a girlfriend. You know what they say about all being fair in love and war. In other words, go for it! Your chances are every bit as good as any of those West coast girls.

Nothing much is happening here in good ol' Rochester. It's the first part of July--only a couple of weeks after you left--and already I'm bored, bored, bored. I have managed to scrounge up a few new baby-sitting jobs--one for the Harpers down the street every Tuesday and Thursday, the other in our church nursery on Sunday mornings. Real exciting, huh?

The weather is hot. Boy, do I ever wish I had an ocean beach right in my back yard like you do. My parents and I are staying in a cabin on the Mississippi River next weekend and we plan to rent a small motor boat. Maybe then I'll finally cool off!

You asked me whether or not I've met Tricia. The answer is no. I did stop by your house yesterday, but she wasn't there. I suppose since her parents are so busy doing research at the clinic, she's finding ways to keep herself busy. Anyway, I promise I'll keep trying. Maybe we'll eventually hook up and I can show her around our old haunts! Well, this is all for now. I'm trying to talk my parents into letting me phone you, but it's a hopeless cause. Mom says I never know when to quit talking, and though I hate to admit it, I guess she's right. So anyway, I've stocked up on stamps and plenty of stationary. I hope you have too.

Time to hit the sack! Good luck again with Jeff Hollingsworth and please write back soon.

Your friend forever,

Amy

I folded the letter, thinking about what she'd written. How could I tell my best friend that Jeff never did ask me to the beach party--I had to go find him there instead. Of course, I was pretty sure he was glad to see me, so that must have counted for something. Why else would he have followed me all the way down the beach? Still, I was sure Amy would be disappointed if she knew how it had really happened.

The rest of the week poked along and finally on Friday afternoon, Jeff arrived to mow the lawn. By then I'd almost convinced myself he was never coming again. I mean, he had said he'd see me on Monday, hadn't he?

After he finished his yard work, I walked outside to the storage shed where he was putting away the lawnmower, but we only talked for a few minutes. When I asked him about why he hadn't shown up on Monday, he just smiled and shrugged his shoulders. He'd probably been with Stacey.

After he left, I realized he hadn't said any more about going to Pirate’s Cove. Had he forgotten all about it? Or had it been an off-handed invitation he never intended to keep? He hadn't even said exactly what day that would be. A couple of weeks could mean just about any time.

At least Monty and I had had lots of time to build more sandcastles. Sometimes Mom and Dad helped us too. We created everything imaginable: a beehive house, a Pueblo Village and even the Great Wall of China. Mom's favorites were the replicas of old European castles, however. I had to admit, those were my favorites too.

Sunday evening while we were settling down to watch a movie on TV, the phone rang. My stomach did a flip flop. Maybe it was Jeff.

"I'll get it!" Monty yelled as he jumped up from his chair. Midnight was snoozing on the throw rug next to her feeding dish and for once didn't appear interested in knocking off the receiver. "It's gotta be Gerald--or maybe Sam again--the kids I met today at the park!" my brother added gleefully.

His face fell as he listened to the caller. "Oh, hi," he answered flatly. "Logan's right here."

"I'll take it in my bedroom," I told him, making a bee- line for the hallway.

At the sound of Jeff's voice, happiness washed over me. "Hey, Logan," he said. "If you're not busy, I thought I might swing by. Maybe we can go for a drive. I've got something great to tell you."

"Okay! That sounds terrific." My heart pounded. Maybe I'd have good news for Amy after all. Maybe he'd ditched Stacey. "What time did you say you'd be here?"

"As soon as I can. I'll hurry." I smiled, twisting the phone cord around my wrist. Obviously Jeff was eager to see me again too.

We made small talk for a few minutes longer and hung up. Then I flew into action. I could hardly wait to hear what he had to say.

Jeff arrived about an hour later so that gave me plenty of time to get ready. I'd decided to wear my new white stirrup pants and floral Hawaiian print top. My coral lip gloss matched the color of the flowers perfectly.

"Sorry about the time," Jeff said a bit breathlessly. He offered no reason for his tardiness, but it didn't matter. I'd wait a hundred years for him if I had to. "Are you still in the mood for a drive?" he asked.

"Of course!"

We waved good-bye to my parents who were lounging on the deck. A faint breeze stirred through the open french doors and I could see the sun slipping down over the ocean. Luckily, Monty had gone roller-skating with his new friends, so I didn't have to worry about him saying anything stupid to embarrass me.

Jeff turned the key in the ignition and we were off.

"So what's the news?" I asked Jeff as we braked at the first intersection.

"Hold on!" He broke into a grin. "I was just getting ready to tell you."

"Okay, okay!" I laughed, feeling my own happiness bubbling up inside. "But what is it?"

He met my gaze and his grin widened. "In only five more days, Tricia's coming home!"

Chapter 7

"What?" I gasped. My head reeled. "What are you talking about? You mean Tricia Merritt?"

"Of course."

"But...but are you sure?"

"Absolutely!" He shifted gears, then zoomed through the intersection.

Confusion washed over me. "How come you know Tricia's coming back before I found out?"

"She called to tell me last night. Her dad will be letting your family know any time now."

My voice sounded far away, as if it belonged to someone

else. "I...I don't understand."

"I suppose you wouldn't," he said eagerly. "You see, Tricia and I've been dating since last September. I hated it when she first told me about her plans for the summer. But now that's all changed."

I couldn't believe my ears. Tricia was Jeff's girlfriend. "But why?" I asked. "Why is Tricia and her family coming home?"

Somehow, this couldn't be happening. I stared out my side window as we whizzed by gas stations, roadside motels, and an occasional truckstop cafe. Darkness had settled around us.

"The only one who's coming back early is Tricia," Jeff explained, rounding a bend in the highway. "Her mom and dad have been called away on short notice to finish their research in England. In the meantime, she's going to be staying with her grandparents who live on the other end of Sunset Beach."

I found the courage to look at him. In the headlights of a passing car, I could see his eyes were alive with anticipation--but for me their magic had suddenly dimmed. "Isn't it terrific, Logan? Here I thought it was going to be such a boring summer."

"Yeah...terrific." I felt as if someone had socked me in the stomach. So Jeff was really tight with Tricia. But then what about Stacey? Exactly how many girlfriends did Jeff have?

"Why didn't you tell me about you and Tricia sooner?" I asked.

He shrugged, his expression still bright. "What was there to tell? She and I agreed at the beginning of the summer we'd be free to date other people while we were apart. No big deal, right? I mean, everyone knows summer romances
never amount to anything. Even Tricia agreed to that--

though I must admit, it took some talking to convince her at first."

A dull ache seeped through me. So even if Jeff and I had dated for the entire summer, to him I would've been nothing more than a disposable romance. Someone to throw away like the plastic spoons and Styrofoam cups I'd seen Grant picking up on the beach.

"And how does Stacey fit into all of this?" I pressed him. "I suppose your romance with Stacey is no big deal either."

Jeff's smile disappeared as he turned onto a side road, then parked the car near a look out site that faced the ocean. "Hey, Logan. Give me a break! I already told you she's not my girlfriend. Didn't you believe me?"

"I wasn't sure what to believe," I admitted. "I mean, why did she make such a play for you that day we had lunch at the deli? And why did you act so nervous when she started questioning you?"

He rolled down the car window. The sound of crickets from the field alongside of us punctuated the night stillness.

"Stacey is Tricia's best friend," Jeff explained. "Like I said earlier, Stacey's a troublemaker. She loves to gossip. Even though Tricia and I agreed it was okay to date other people this summer, I was afraid Stacey would call Tricia back in Minnesota and blow everything out of proportion." He winced, then began fiddling with the zipper on his windbreaker. "I could just hear Stacey telling Tricia that you and I were going hot and heavy...That would've been horrible."

"Oh." A jumble of emotions tumbled about in my head. I couldn't really accuse Jeff of leading me on, could I? I'd been the one running after him. So far, he hadn't even kissed me.

Yet bitterness smothered my logic. How could he treat me like a mere acquaintance when I liked him more than I'd ever liked anyone before? He acted as if I should share his happiness that Tricia was coming back. Couldn't he tell how I felt about him? I blinked hard. All the time, while I'd been sharing Tricia's house, her bedroom, even her cat, I'd also been sharing her boyfriend.

Jeff's voice jerked me out of my thoughts. "Look, Logan. You're really terrific. I could tell right from the start what kind of girl you are. And I know you were looking forward to watching me go surfing. My mother's been on my case for me to do her a favor. Maybe you can help out."

"What kind of a favor?" I didn't understand how any of this tied together and was growing more irritated by the moment.

"A few months ago Mom became good friends with a lady who is sort of new around here. She's got a son who'll be a junior next year like you." He paused, running a finger over the steering wheel. "Anyway, Mom's been bugging me to introduce this guy to my buddies...maybe even set him up on a date...but, well...he and I just don't share the same interests. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I guess so." I stared straight ahead at the inky blue water. "So exactly what are you getting at?" I asked.

He let out a quick laugh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to run off at the mouth. What I'm trying to say is maybe this weekend all four of us could double. You and Grant. Tricia and me."

He started up the engine, revved the motor a time or two, then went on, "That way I'll be doing both you and Mom a favor. I'll set Grant up on a date like she's been bugging me to do and you'll get to see me surf."

"Grant Duncan?" I asked, not entirely surprised. How big of Jeff to accommodate his mother and me in one fell swoop.

"Yeah! You know him?" He backed up the car.

"Yes," I replied airily. "Grant and I've already met."

"Hey, that's terrific! Then it's all set." The Porsche swerved sharply, then lunged onto the roadway.

"Right," I agreed numbly. "Everything's set."

***

I lay tossing and turning. Sleep refused to come.

My pillow was damp with tears and my eyes burned. A picture of a sandcastle took shape in my mind, one a lot like the castles my family and I'd been building on the beach. This one, though, had kings, queens, and princesses--and most of all knights in shining armor.

A hot salty tear slipped down my cheek. Until just a few hours ago, Jeff had been the boy of my dreams, the knight standing guard at my castle. But those dreams--like the fate of most sandcastles--had been blown by the wind, swept away by the tide, and vanished forever.

Wadding my pillow up for the hundredth time, I flipped over on my side and blinked back more tears. A muffled sob caught in my throat.

Midnight, who'd curled up in her usual spot at the foot of the bed, stood up to stretch. Then she padded across the covers and stopped only inches from my face as if to ask what was wrong. Her whiskers brushed softly.

"Guess what," I whispered to her, reaching out to stroke the top of her silky head. "Your owner is coming home. Won't you be happy? Now you can spend the rest of the summer with Tricia."

The cat meowed softly and plopped down to mold her body against the curve of my back. It occurred to me now I might even miss Midnight. If she was pampered and mischievous, then she really couldn't help it. It was Tricia's fault. Just like it was Tricia's fault she'd taken the only boy I'd ever loved.

Moonlight slanted in through the bedroom window. The shadow of the dressing table mirror loomed against the far wall. Tricia. I still couldn't believe it. No wonder Jeff had been so protective of Midnight, especially that evening at the beach. Looking out after the cat was more than part of his job description. Midnight belonged to Tricia and Tricia was the one he wanted...

Even in the darkness, Tricia's presence seemed to close in around me. The sweet smell of her wild flower potpourri wafting from nearby, the shadowy outline of her school photograph tucked into the frame of her mirror.

If Jeff had to already have a girlfriend, why couldn't it have been anyone other than Tricia?

Chapter 8

"Oh, Logan! It's so sweet of you to take such good care of my kitty." It was Thursday morning and Tricia had stopped by to pick up a photo album and some clothes, then take Midnight back to her grandparents' place. We were standing at the front door chatting while her grandmother waited outside in a chocolate colored Volvo.

"No problem," I answered politely. "I'm sure Midnight's happy to be back with her real owner."

She cuddled the black cat close to her. "Has my room been comfortable? Are you getting to spend lots of time on the beach? I hope you don't mind that I waited till this morning to see you. I flew in late last night."

"I understand," I replied, sending her a tight-lipped smile. "And yes, everything's been great." I was thankful she didn't have to move in with us for the rest of the summer, which would mean I'd have to take the still empty guest bedroom.

"Did you ever meet my best friend Amy?" I asked. "She wrote me a letter and said she stopped by one time, but you weren't home."

She shook her head, her blue eyes sparkling. "No, I didn't. Actually, I didn't get to do nearly half the things I'd planned to--Mom and Dad were called away on such short notice. But that's okay. I hated being separated from Jeff..." Her voice trailed as she nuzzled her head against the cat for a moment. "Did Midnight give you any trouble? Did she try to run away?"

"Midnight ran away only once," I lied. Tricia was even prettier than I'd pictured--angel fine, straight blond hair that hung to the middle of her back, expressive eyes, and an innocent smile.

I told her about the cat's escape into the maple tree and how Jeff had helped me get her down.

"Thank goodness for Jeff." She sighed. "He's so wonderful. He's gotten Midnight down out of that tree for me too. I just don't know what I'd do without him." She clutched the purring cat a little more tightly and stroked her under the chin.

My heart lurched. Was Tricia playing dumb? Had Jeff already told her the rest of the story, how I'd taken Midnight for a walk on the beach the night of the party? Or perhaps Stacey had been the one to tell. If that was the case, she'd probably also driven home the point that Jeff and I'd wandered off by ourselves a long ways from the others. "I guess it's kind of mean of me keeping Midnight inside all the time," Tricia continued, "but I just can't stand the thought of anything happening to her. I used to have this gorgeous white cat called Ivory that we sometimes let outdoors." She bit her lip, lowering her gaze. "One day she got hit on the highway."

"Too bad," I answered sincerely. "That must've been terrible."

She looked up again. "Yes, it was. After that, I swore I'd never own another cat"--her smile returned--"but now I've got Midnight. Oh by the way, I can hardly wait till Saturday when you and Grant Duncan double with Jeff and me. Wasn't that sweet of Jeff to set it up? I'm sure you're anxious to find a nice guy here this summer..."

I couldn't meet her gaze. "Yes...yes I am."

"Gram says City Hall's so impressed with Grant's beach clean-up campaign, they're thinking about starting an official volunteer program. Beach Rangers."

"Oh really?" Grant hadn't told me that. Obviously he was more modest than Jeff.

"I know you'll really like Grant. I mean, any guy Jeff sets you up with has got to be terrific, right? And listen,"--she reached out to touch my arm--"I've gone on lots of blind dates myself. There's nothing to be nervous about."

"Of course not." I didn't feel like explaining that Grant and I'd already met. In fact, it was tempting to back out of the date altogether. Still, hope burned deep inside of me. I'd take advantage of this opportunity. On Saturday whenever Jeff was close by, I'd try my best to be charming and witty. Eventually he'd come to his senses and like me. Tricia tossed a glance over her shoulder toward the driveway. "I'd better get going. I don't want to keep Gram waiting any longer. See you Saturday, Logan!"

"You got it." Waving, I watched her duck inside the Volvo with Midnight.

As I walked slowly back into the front room, I wondered again how much Tricia had heard about Jeff and me. Even if Stacey had stretched the truth, I was sure Jeff probably managed to convince her our relationship was no big deal. That was probably why Tricia had never brought it up.

No big deal to him, I thought glumly. Yeah, right. But what about me?

Friday morning, I set out on foot again for the post office to mail my most recent letter to Amy. As I walked, I thought about what I'd written. Boy, would Amy ever be surprised to learn Jeff was Tricia's boyfriend--and that Tricia had come back early to Sunset Beach. Talk about irony!

But what would have happened if Tricia had been home that day when Amy had stopped by to see her? I wondered. Maybe Tricia would have told Amy all about Jeff and how much she missed him. Then Amy probably would have been the bearer of bad news instead of Jeff. I sighed, dodging a big rock on the sidewalk. The more I thought about it, the more depressed I became.

As I came closer to town, the morning breeze lifted my hair. A white-haired man who was walking his dog on the sidewalk smiled at me. "Mornin!" he said with a nod, tipping his hat.

"Good morning." I met his gaze, smiled back and felt a little better. To my left, the beach was hidden by a layer of fog, but overhead the sun was breaking through.

Pausing at a crosswalk, I waited for the light to turn, then hurried to the opposite side of the street. Maybe after I mailed my letter, I'd take a look in that gift shop at the end of the block, I decided. I wanted to look for new stationary---something with a beach design such as seagulls or light houses or sunsets over the ocean. Besides, after blowing most of my money on Midnight's carrying case, an inexpensive box of stationary was all I could afford.

Ahead, I caught sight of City Hall--a red brick building two stories high. Remembering Tricia's news about the Beach Rangers, my thoughts drifted back to Grant Duncan's window display. Curiosity wrapped around me. Maybe it was still there.

I came to the entrance of the building. To my right behind a pane of glass was a large rectangular board with old letters at the top. "Help Save Our Planet," it read. "Don't destroy aquatic life."

An assortment of fishing line, Styrofoam cups, six pack rings, plastic milk jugs and even a couple of tattered old shoes and a broken key chain lay before me. Below the debris was a picture of a sea turtle trying to eat a plastic bag that it had mistaken for a jellyfish. Another picture showed a fur seal with netting tangled around its neck. And still another portrayed a sea gull pecking at what appeared to be a plastic lid.

I stood there staring at the display for much longer than I had intended. My thoughts flashed back to the sea gull that sometimes sat perched outside on our window sill. What if the bird--and other innocent animals too--died an unnecessary death because I hadn't done my part?

Just as I was about to push away the uncomfortable notion, I heard a guy's voice. "Hey, Logan!"

Turning on my heel, I spied Grant grinning up into my face. He was wearing a blue and white baseball cap and carrying a manila envelope. I'm not sure why, but suddenly he seemed shorter than ever.

"Oh hi," I answered. Automatically I scrunched down, then realized what I was doing. Miss Bernstein would kill me. I straightened.

"I hear you and I are going down the coast to Pirate’s Cove tomorrow with Jeff and Tricia," he said. Eagerness filled his voice. "I was going to call you tonight, but seeing you in person is even better."

I groped for conversation. "What are you doing here? I didn't expect to run into you."

"I'm on my way to see the Parks and Recreation director," he told me. "But getting back to tomorrow, I wanted to tell you I'll be driving. My parents are letting me take their van. Jeff and I'll be by for you around ten." He grinned. "I hear Hollingsworth's one of the best surfers on the coast. I'm eager to watch him practice."

I nodded in agreement, but said nothing. My silence didn't appear to faze him.

"So what do you think?" he asked, pointing to the display window. "Do you like it?"

"Yes...you did a terrific job," I answered truthfully, thankful the conversation had turned away from Jeff. "I heard about the Beach Rangers. You never told me that you were the one who talked city hall into starting it."

He shrugged, though a faint smile lifted his lips. Once again, the realization of how pleasant Grant looked when he smiled tugged at the corner of my mind.

"The idea's not really my own," he admitted. "When we lived in Florida, there was a full-fledged program going on in my home town. Of course, we're only getting started with the volunteer program here in Sunset Beach, but I know it's going to turn out successful."

He paused, regarding me for a moment. "Our first beach clean-up will be in August after the sandcastle contest. Want to help?"

"I...I don't know." I bit my lip. "I might be interested in entering the contest though. My family and I've been spending lots of time on the beach seeing what different types of sandcastles we can make. It's been fun."

"Great! I'm glad to hear that. Like I said that first day I met you, if the contest is anything like the one in Florida, it should be a blast. Maybe this will be my red letter year and I'll finally win a prize."

"You deserve to win," I said. I meant it. Grant's sand sculptures were the best.

"Thanks." He shifted the envelope to his other hand and flashed me another smile. "I guess I'd better get going. I don't want to keep Mr. Peterson waiting. See you tomorrow, Logan."

"Yeah, tomorrow," I answered. To my surprise, I was smiling too.

Chapter 9

I set my alarm clock for six-thirty. If today was going to be my golden opportunity to make Jeff Hollingsworth realize he should like me instead of Tricia, then I needed plenty of time to get ready.

A twinge of guilt shot through me. How could I help it if Tricia was as nice as she was pretty? But then hadn't Amy reminded me of that old saying about everything being fair in love and war?

After taking a quick shower, I sat down at Tricia's dressing table to blow my hair dry. I brushed it till my brown strands shone like silk. Then I did my make-up and splashed on plenty of "Moonlight Madness" cologne.

A minute later I sent an appraising glance at my reflection in the mirror. Not bad. My hair hung stylishly, framing my face and turning under ever-so-slightly at the ends. At last I slipped into my best cut-off jeans and neon pink tank top. I tweaked and molded the top close to my body, making my curves show in all the right places.

It seemed strange not to see Midnight curled up on the foot of the bed. I missed her. It also seemed strange to know Tricia was staying only a few miles away now and I was getting ready to go on a double date with her.

I wondered why I hadn't spotted some indication of her relationship to Jeff here these past few weeks. A picture? A note from him, perhaps? There hadn't been a thing.

Probably she'd taken all that with her, I decided as I rummaged through the top drawer to find a belt. When I went back to Minnesota at the end of the summer, having finally won Jeff over, I'd take every reminder of him too.

The ringing of the phone sliced through my reverie. I picked it up and heard Tricia's voice on the other end.

"Hi, Logan!" she said brightly. "How's it going? Are you ready yet?"

"Just about," I told her.

"I wanted to surprise Jeff and bring a picnic lunch for all of us," she went on. "I'm taking my parents' cooler--the one we use for camping--and plenty of ice. Then when we're ready, I'll switch over the food into my picnic basket and we'll find a cozy place somewhere to eat."

A romantic picnic lunch. Why hadn't I thought of that? "Great idea," I said. "I've got a case of pop in the fridg. Do you want me to bring it?"

"Oh, would you? We can always use extra pop. My grandma and I've made fried chicken, pasta salad, and a big pan of brownies." She paused. "And--wait! There's something else you can bring."

"What?"

"I'm running short on paper plates. There should be a big stack of them in the utility closet near the back door." She giggled. "And make sure you get the paper plates, not the Styrofoam ones. Paper's completely biodegradable, of course. Grant would have a fit if I showed up with Styrofoam."

I giggled also. "I saw his display at City Hall today and talked to him too. I was kind of impressed."

"You mean you already know Grant? This isn't a blind date?"

"That's right. I was going to mention it Thursday morning after you stopped by, but I figured it didn't really matter that much."

"Hey, this is even better than I expected!"

I hesitated. "Do you know Grant well?"

"Not really. I've only met him a couple of times, but I've heard Jeff talk about Grant's mother. I guess she and Jeff's mom are friends."

"Yeah, Jeff mentioned that last week when--" I bit off my words, feeling myself flush. I'd almost admitted that we'd gone out for a drive. Though Tricia might already know about the few times Jeff and I'd spent together, there was no point rubbing it in. Besides, the only reason Jeff had taken me was to explain about Tricia.

"...when you and Jeff went driving around," Tricia finished my sentence.

"Uh...yeah." My voice squeaked.

"Jeff told me. He also mentioned the day you had lunch together at the deli and the beach party at Eagle Point. We tell each other everything." She paused. "Of course, his story was a little different from what Stacey said, but then she likes to make little things sound big. Anyway, I wasn't worried. I mean, no one should sit home alone all summer. Right?"

"Exactly," I replied. So my suspicions proved right. Tricia knew about Jeff and me, and Jeff had made it sound totally unimportant.

"Thanks for keeping him from getting too lonely while I was gone," she went on.

I gulped. "Sure, Tricia--no problem. Anything for a friend..."

Her sincerity was complicating my life. How could you compete with someone who was too good to be true?

***

My heart caught in my throat as I watched Jeff and his five buddies. Dressed in wetsuits, they paddled prone on their surfboards beyond the breaker line. Then they waited expectantly to catch the next big wave.

"Wow! These guys are really great," Grant exclaimed from his spot next to me on the beach blanket. I kept my eyes on Jeff who was right in the middle. I was finally here, watching him surf. But the bittersweet reminder that Grant was my date and Jeff was with Tricia instead made my emotions roller coaster.

Tricia sat on the other side of me, watching too. The sunshine glistened, sending heat waves up from the sand and splashing the blue green waters with its brilliance.

"I think they're gonna catch this next wave," Tricia exclaimed, her eyes alive with her own excitement. "Watch how they drop in!"

The surfers were sitting upright now on their boards, waiting. Another swell rolled towards them. Quickly they turned towards the beach and began paddling again. Then rising to their feet, they shot forward in one fluid movement.

I heard their whoops and shouts of exhilaration. Jeff's lean profile appeared poised and in control as he crouched, rotating his shoulders and hips towards the wave. Then in a spring-like motion, he turned sharply to the left. Twisting again, he continued in a zig-zag fashion until he'd ridden out the face of the wave.

I sighed. Dancing. It was almost like dancing...And Jeff looked more fabulous than ever. I knew beyond the whisper of a doubt we were meant for each other.

"What did I tell you?" Tricia said. "Jeff hardly ever wipes out! And it looks like he's practicing some new maneuvers to get ready for his next competition." She fished a bottle of sunscreen from her beach bag and popped off the lid. Smearing the creamy white liquid over her arms, she held her gaze steadily on Jeff.

"I bet he places first again," Grant said, yanking off his sunglasses and squinting over the water. "I mean, just look at him! He's better than any of those guys."

I glanced over at Grant. He was dressed in beige khaki shorts and a white T-shirt that said "Oregon State". Though he didn't appear as athletic as Jeff, I had to admit Grant looked rather pleasant--in a nice sporty way.

"You're right," Tricia said. "Jeff's always a winner. He's placed in every competition he's entered so far."

"Where will the next one be?" I asked.

"At Southshore City. August 1--only two weeks away." Tricia paused to brush sand off the blanket, then went on. "Too bad that's the same day as the sandcastle contest. I guess I'll have to miss out seeing it this year."

My feelings felt like a tug of war. More than anything I wanted to watch Jeff's competition too. But how could I be in two places at once? I'd already told Grant I might enter the sandcastle contest. The more I thought about it, the more I decided I wanted a crack at it.

We must've watched the surfers for almost an hour before they hauled their boards back to the beach, changed back into dry clothes and went their separate ways.

We crossed the narrow lot where Grant's gray van was parked. What a contrast to Jeff's sporty little red Porsche, I decided, then quickly chided myself. It probably wasn't Grant's fault he didn't have his own set of wheels and had to borrow his family's instead.

Tricia wrapped her arm through Jeff's and sent him a radiant smile. "Let's head over to that state park we passed about five miles up the road. You know, the one by the light house? It's been ages since I've gone up inside of it." "Great idea!" Grant put in.

"It's staffed by volunteers from the historical society," Tricia went on. She smiled mysteriously. "But on to more important things. First we need to have our picnic."

"What picnic?" Jeff asked, opening the side door and waiting for her to climb into the van. His brows were raised, but his eyes shone down at her with approval. "I thought that cooler you brought along was just filled with pop."

"My surprise," Tricia announced breezily. "I guess I did a better job hiding my picnic basket than I thought."

"You certainly did." Sliding in alongside of her, he gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

"I fixed your favorite," she told him. "Fried chicken and brownies."

He tweaked her chin and looked as if he might kiss her again. "You're terrific, Trich. The best."

I sat in the front seat next to Grant. While Tricia and Jeff continued to carry on behind us, I wanted to die. More and more, it seemed as if Grant and I were mere bystanders, eavesdropping on their private rendezvous.

I stole a glance at Grant who was looking a little embarrassed as he started up the van. I hoped he didn't feel the same way too. Even though I'd rather be here with Jeff, I didn't want Grant to be uncomfortable.

We started back up the coast high way and I kept up a constant stream of chatter. I was hoping I'd get Jeff to laugh at my attempted witty remarks, but he was too busy paying attention to Tricia.

"There's the park. Right up ahead," I finally heard Tricia say a few minutes later. "Get ready to turn

left." I was surprised she'd taken time to even notice where we were.

"I see it," Grant replied. "There's the sign that points to the light house." He swerved off the highway and steered down a graveled road. Shiny leafed Oregon grape and prickly blackberry vines grew on each side. Dappled sunlight spilled onto the hood of the van.

Grant parked the van next to a fifth wheeler in a big paved lot and we got out. Then while the guys ambled over to the rest rooms next to the tourist information center, Tricia and I set out the food.

"Did you see how surprised Jeff was when I told him about our picnic?" Tricia asked, giving a quick toss of her long blond hair. "I knew he'd be ravenous after all that surfing. He always is. I made all his favorite foods."

"Surfing must take lots of stamina," I replied. I put a box of fried chicken into the picnic basket and tried to smile amicably, but my face felt as if it was frozen. Though I was certain Tricia didn't realize how it must sound, she talked as if she'd planned the picnic exclusively for Jeff and herself.

A short distance from the van, beneath the mottled shade of a Douglas fir, we spread out the beach blanket and set the picnic basket in the middle. The basket was made of white wicker with a wide handle and a red and white checkered cloth liner. It reminded me of the commercials where you see a beautiful lady wearing a flowing pastel dress and wide-brimmed sunbonnet sitting in the middle of a flower-strewn meadow. Usually she and some terrific looking guy are staring dreamily into each others eyes with the picnic basket, brimming with exotic foods, set before them.

Unexpectedly the image sharpened. The beautiful lady was Tricia. The terrific looking guy was Jeff. My heart twisted.

"Oh by the way," Tricia's voice pulled my thoughts back. "Did you remember to bring the paper plates? We can't have much of a picnic without them."

"Yes. But they're still in the van. I'll go get them right now."

A minute later, paper plates in hand, I gave the van door a hard slam. Suddenly I caught sight of Jeff out of the corner of my eye. He was walking towards me.

"Where's Grant?" I asked.

"Back at the information center." Jeff jerked his head in that direction. "He's picking up some pamphlets about the light house." I looked over there and saw him talking with some people. He appeared in no hurry to leave.

Good, I thought. Maybe for a few precious minutes I'd have Jeff all to myself. This was my chance. I cast a hurried glance back at Tricia who was still busy unloading the picnic basket. She didn't seem to be paying any attention to us either.

"I loved watching you surf," I told him. You were fabulous. You don't know how long I've been waiting for this day...to see a real west coast surfer, I mean."

"Thanks."

I wanted desperately for the conversation to continue, but I wasn't sure what else to say.

"So what do you think of Grant?" Jeff asked, his gaze locking with mine.

"He's nice--in a certain way."

"Good! I knew you'd like him."

"Jeff..." I hesitated.

"What?"

"There's something I want to tell you."

He leaned casually against the van, then crossed his arms over his chest. "Okay. Shoot."

I bit my lip. "Like I said, Jeff...Grant's nice and all...But sometimes nice isn't enough." I broke off, wondering how to go on.

"What are you getting at?" His voice held an impatient edge.

"Well...I guess what I'm trying to say is...I like you too. In a different way than I like Grant. A lot different."

His face remained unreadable. "I don't think so, Logan. You're impressed that I'm into surfing. You're impressed with my car. That's why you think you like me."

"Are you saying my feelings for you are phony?" I could feel my pulse racing, my throat growing tight.

"No...not exactly. I just think...I think you're confused. I think you're so caught up in the surfing scene, you'd fall for any guy who surfboards. Unfortunately Grant doesn't."

I looked away. The hurt welled up inside me like a mushrooming black cloud. It was obvious I wasn't even getting past square one. Why? Because Jeff loves Tricia, a little voice answered unexpectedly in the back of my mind. He's not the least bit interested in you.

Swallowing hard, I forced my gaze back to Jeff, but he was staring beyond me.

"Come on," he said. "We'd better hurry. Tricia won't like it if we keep her waiting."

As I turned to go, the hurt seared deeper. Little by little, like sand trickling through an hour glass, my chances were vanishing. But maybe those chances had only been a figment of my imagination, I told myself.

Maybe they'd never existed in the first place.

Chapter 10

After we finished eating, Grant suggested he and I walk down to the light house. I agreed, relieved for the chance to get away from Tricia and Jeff. If I had to spend another moment in their presence, I'd go crazy.

The trail snaked its way alongside a rocky cliff line that jutted into the water. Below, the surf crashed against large jagged rocks. White sea foam sprayed. Farther down the coastline, the beach stretched endlessly. The tide was going out, leaving lacy white ribbons of foam on the sand.

We stopped to admire the scenery. For a moment, I could almost forget my misery over Jeff.

I heard Grant say, "Maybe before we head back home, we can go down to the beach."

"And make sandcastles?" I turned to look at him. "Sure. Why not?" He grinned, then lifted his binoculars from the worn leather case he was holding. "There's something else I think you'll like. Here, take a look."

I peered through the lens in the direction he had indicated, adjusting the focus till the images sharpened. A monolith rose up out of the ocean. On its broad flat surface facing us, a mass of sea lions lay sunning themselves.

"Wow!" I said. "There must be fifty or more!" The sounds of their barking carried across the water. Their sleek black-brown bodies glistened in the afternoon brightness and I could see a few of them scooting short distances in a thrusting forward motion.

"It's cool watching them, isn't it?" Grant's shoulder brushed mine.

"Yes, I love it!"

"Too bad you missed going with me to the new marine science center," he said. "I think you would've enjoyed it."

"Maybe..." I was beginning to regret having turned him down.

We continued down the path to the light house. After we arrived and signed the guest book, he led me up a narrow spiral stair case. A circular wall of thick glass enclosed us, intensifying the sun's hot rays.

At the top of the stairs, we leaned against the heavy iron railing and gazed at the view. The blue green ocean, tipped with whitecaps, wrapped around on three sides.

Its expanse seemed to melt right into the sky.

"It's hot in here," I said, wiping my brow with the back of my hand. "But the view's worth it. This is even better than what we can see from the deck at Tricia's house."

"There's a story about this light house," Grant said. His mouth was quirked in a half smile, but his voice sounded serious.

"What kind of a story?"

"About a ghost. A ghost who comes here every night."

"Oh come on!"

"No! Really! The story goes that many years ago this beautiful woman was madly in love with the captain of a sailing fleet. One night his ship was lost at sea. His body was found months later washed up on shore along with the wrecked hull. Not long after that, the woman died of a broken heart."

I slanted him a look. "Good grief," I said. "That story probably got started at some junior high school kid's sleep-over."

"I don't think so." His eyes were silent brown pools looking up at me. "Listen to the rest. Every night as Ghost Lady hears some distant bell from the netherworld striking midnight, she returns to the light house. There she watches patiently for her lover so she can guide his ship through the stormy seas--in the hopes he'll some day return to her. People have reported seeing a shimmering white mist in the outline of a woman not far from the beacon."

"Did you learn this at the tourist information booth?" I teased, poking him in the side.

"No." I decided I might as well play along. "Why can't Ghost lady--as you call her--realize her lover's never coming back? Why can't she face the truth?"

"I don't know." His gaze locked with mine. "Maybe it's easier to cling to an illusion than to move on--in her case, move on to the next life."

In her case. Was Grant trying to tell me something? Was he trying to draw a connection with the ghost story and my own reluctance to face the truth? He'd probably already figured out what was going on between Jeff, Tricia and me.

I looked away. "This heat's killing me. Let's go." "Okay." Grant took my hand. His grasp was gentle and reassuring, almost as if we'd held hands like this a thousand times before.

Later, after we found Jeff and Tricia again, the four of us followed a narrow trail that led down to the beach. Grant and I discovered a smooth stretch of wet sand where we could make sand sculptures while Jeff and Tricia wandered down the beach, hand-in-hand.

Yearning coursed through me as I stood there watching their outlines grow smaller. I felt so mixed up inside. More than anything, I wanted to know what they were talking about. I wanted to know whether they really loved each other as much as it appeared. But the less I had to see the two of them together, the more I could pretend their relationship didn't exist. And for now, that worked best for me. I looked back at Grant and realized he'd been staring at me. His probing expression gave way to a grin.

"So where should we start?" he asked. "Would you like to know how it feels to be a mermaid?"

"What's this got to do with sand sculpting?"

"You'll see. Sit down."

I did. Immediately Grant set to work, drawing an outline of a mermaid's lower body, then mounding the sand over my legs and hips.

"I wish I had a camera," he said a while later, wiping his hands on the sides of his khaki shorts and grinning. "You look terrific!"

I couldn't help smiling as I stared down at my mermaid body complete with scales and scallops and a tapering two finned tail. Grant had used a clam shell to carve out the scales and his pocket knife to emphasize the ridges.

"I'm glad you don't have a camera," I said. "If any of my friends back in Minnesota saw me, I'd never live it down!"

Now that Grant had taken my mind off Jeff, I could even relax and enjoy Grant's company. He was fun to be with.

"The sandcastle contest will be here before you know it," Grant said, putting the finishing touches on my mermaid body. "Have you made up your mind yet? Are you going to enter?"

Momentarily forgetting that part of me was encased in sand, I started to move one leg. "Yes! I've decided to go for it. But will you give me some more pointers? Now?" He looked pleased. Dipping his head for a moment, he said, "Of course. There's plenty of time till the next high tide. It'll be around nine, I think."

We set to work. Grant demonstrated another technique called open molding. First we found a couple of pieces of old plywood on the beach, and while I held them several inches apart, he piled and packed the sand inside. Soon we had created a wall, smooth on both sides, that resembled a medieval city stockade.

"Now for the castle in the center and the village around it," I said.

Grant laughed. "You're ambitious. Gets in your blood, doesn't it?"

I nodded, meeting his gaze, and I no longer worried about what Jeff might say when he and Tricia came back later. Grant was as much a pro at sand sculpting as Jeff was at surfing. Time slipped by as we packed and molded and sliced. Just before sundown, we'd finished. Our castle looked magnificent.

"So what do you think?" Grant asked, standing back and smiling at me.

"I can't believe how real it looks," I exclaimed. I could almost see the villagers, the marketplace, the courthouse, the farmers peddling their wares. Against the pearly sherbet glow of the water and sky, the castle took on a magic all its own.

"Yeah, so real," Grant said as he stared down at it. "But not for long, Logan. It's almost high tide."

Silently I nodded. Though I'd often come back to the beach to see the washed-away sandcastles my family and I'd made, I'd never been there at the right time to watch the transformation.

Little-by-little the waves were edging closer now. Grant took my hand and held it tightly. Then in an instant the sea swallowed up our creation, leaving nothing but a smooth mound of sand.

Just like the dream castles we build in our mind, I thought with bittersweet wonder.

My silent farewell was so very, very sad--but incredibly beautiful.

***

As I was loading the last cereal bowl into the dishwasher, I heard the mailman's footsteps on the front porch and hurried to see what had arrived. Another letter from Amy! She hadn't wasted any time answering.

I sat down at the kitchen table and started to read. Just as I'd expected, she was horrified to learn that Jeff was Tricia's boyfriend. Don't give up on him, she wrote back. If he's as wonderful as you say he is, he's worth fighting for.

I folded the letter, then stuffed it into the envelope. How could I ever explain to her how mixed up I was feeling? I liked Jeff more than ever, but I also liked Grant. Something special had grown between Grant and me last night, watching our sandcastle crumble against the waves. We'd created it together--and together we'd watched it fall.

Still, Amy was right. If there was any chance left of making Jeff mine, he was worth it. Somehow I'd have to make him change his mind. I still clung to that one last shred of hope.

Maybe this morning after Jeff has a chance to think things over, I wished to myself, he'll decide he doesn't like Tricia anymore. After all, people do change. Though he had certainly acted like a love-sick jerk yesterday, perhaps he was simply caught up in that rush he always said surfing gave him.

In the meantime, I had the sandcastle contest to consider. Grant and I'd made plans to practice together again. He said he'd meet me at two sharp on the beach below Tricia's house--he was working that morning at his parents' pottery shop, but would have the afternoon free.

Just as I was about to head outside, I heard the doorbell ring. I ran to open it, wondering if Grant had decided to stop by the house first. Instead, it was Tricia.

"Sorry to keep bugging you," she said, breathing heavily. I could see her bike parked outside at the bottom of the porch stairs. "I need to pick up my new mint green cable knit sweater, the one I bought before we left for Minnesota. I put it in my cedar chest when I was clearing out my bureau so you'd have room for your stuff."

"Sure, come in," I said, swinging the door open wider. "Sorry about the mess," I added as she followed me through the foyer and down the hall. "I haven't had a chance to pick up my...er...your room yet." She smelled sweet and perfumy like the flowery scent that filled her room.

She flashed me a smile. "Don't apologize. I want you to feel at home. You know that..."

We went inside. The bed sheets were crumpled. The comforter was heaped to one side of the bed and the clothes I'd worn yesterday lay in a pile in front of the closet. On top of her dressing table, I'd left a partially eaten bowl of popcorn. Kernels had scattered onto the floor.

"Jeff and I are going to a movie tonight and I wanted to wear something he hasn't seen before," Tricia explained. "Makes sense," I answered levelly. I still hoped he was getting up his nerve to tell her it was over. Maybe tonight it would happen...

Again my conscience jabbed at me. How could I be acting so nice to Tricia when deep down inside, I wanted Jeff to drop her?

A minute later Tricia had slipped out of the blouse she was wearing and shrugged into the sweater. "This will go perfectly with my new black stirrup pants," she commented.

"I bought it over-sized just for that reason."

"Want me to find you a bag for it?" I promised myself I'd remain calm and accommodating.

"Don't bother. I'll just keep it on and wear it back to Gram's. My blouse will fold into my fanny pack better anyway." Her face lit up. "Speaking of my fanny pack, I brought something in it to show you." She unzipped the side pocket and pulled out a small white box that said Sunset Beach Jewelers on top.

"What is it?" I asked.

Beaming, she lifted the lid and held up a small translucent figurine. It was a cat holding a pink heart.

"Jeff gave it to me this morning," she said. "He would've given it to me yesterday at the beach, but he wanted to wait till there was no one else around." She paused, then spoke in a hushed voice. "Isn't it the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen?"

"Yes...yes it is." Tears stung at the back of my throat.

"It's real Austrian crystal," she said, holding the figurine up to get a better look. The crisply cut planes caught the sunlight. A reflection of rainbow colors shimmered onto the opposite wall.

I couldn't speak. My heart was shattering into a million pieces.

"The cat made Jeff think of Midnight," she went on, obviously unaware of my discomfort. "Except Midnight's black, of course. He said the heart symbolizes his love for me."

I forced myself to meet Tricia's smile. "I...I can see why you're so happy...That was so thoughtful of Jeff..."

I wanted to die. My last shred of hope had vanished forever.

Chapter 11

Somehow I managed to keep my composure till Tricia left, then flung myself on the bed and cried. Thank goodness the house was empty. My family had left earlier with the couple next door for a whale watching expedition.

Springing to my feet, I crumpled up my Kleenex and blew my nose. A knock at the front door gave me a start. Go away, I thought. Leave me alone.

The knock sounded again, this time much louder. "Logan! Open up!" My stomach did a flip flop. Grant. I might have known he'd come looking for me when I hadn't shown up at the beach.

"Logan! I know you're in there."

Pushing back a damp strand of hair from my cheek, I walked down the hall and opened the door. I knew I must look a sight, but I didn't care.

A blast of air cooled my still burning cheeks. Grant stood on the other side of the door jamb, his face twisted in a frown, his hands thrust into his jacket pockets. "You could use the doorbell," I told him without first bothering to say hi.

He ignored my comment. "Why didn't you meet me on the beach?"

"Something's come up. I have to leave." It wasn't true, but he didn't need to know that.

Grant reached out to touch my shoulder, but I jerked back. "Logan, what's wrong?"

"Everything! Just leave me alone!"

"No, I won't. I want to help. It's Jeff, isn't it? Jeff and Tricia. I passed Tricia on the street a little while ago. She said she'd stopped and talked to you."

I couldn't meet his gaze. "Stay out of my business, Grant! I don't need your advice." The memory of his ghost story swam up in my head. I knew now my suspicions had been right. Grant had made it up. "And by the way," I added hotly, "about your phony Ghost lady at the lighthouse. I don't appreciate your clever attempts at trying to get your point across."

"Uh...I was only trying to help, Logan. Maybe I should have just been more direct...just come out and told you to wake up and accept what was obvious to everybody else. There's little chance Jeff will change his mind about Tricia." He hesitated, searching my face. I could see the artery in his neck throbbing. "But I kept my mouth shut," he went on. "I didn't want to cause any bad feelings. I could tell you were already upset enough. It was written all over your--"

"Wait!" I cut him off. My throat tightened with anger. "What makes you think you're so special? Who are you to come to my rescue like some knight in shining armor? Well, let me tell you something, Grant Duncan. Even if there was such a thing, it certainly wouldn't be you!"

A hurt look flitted across his face. I hated myself. But it was too late. Too late to take back what I'd said.

"Fine. We'll talk about this later," Grant said, holding my gaze. "We'll try it again after you decide to grow up."

Slamming the door, I slumped against it and closed my eyes. The only sound was Grant's retreating footsteps.

Jeff and Tricia were so tight, nothing short of an earthquake could change that. Now I knew for certain my romance with Jeff had only existed in my imagination. Though it wasn't easy, I had no choice but to accept the truth.

As the days ticked by, I somehow muddled through. And though it hurt to admit it, Jeff and Grant had both been right. I had been simply caught up in the west coast surfing scene. Maybe my reasons for liking Jeff had stemmed from what he represented to me--his sexy good looks, his skill and success--rather than who he really was inside.

Still, I couldn't bring myself to apologize to Grant. He'd simply been in the right place at the wrong time and I'd taken my anger out on him. I hadn't even seen him since our quarrel. But what difference did it make? As Jeff had been quick to point out, summer romances never worked. Soon it would be August and my family would be driving back to Minnesota.

The only good thing left was the sandcastle contest. No matter that Grant would be there competing in it too. With all the people signing up as contestants plus the hundreds who'd be coming to watch, it wouldn't be difficult to ignore him.

Meanwhile, I'd shown Monty and my parents the most recent sand sculpting techniques Grant had taught me and we spent almost every evening on the beach. But each time we watched the incoming tide begin to lick at the edges of our finished sandcastle, and finally swallow it up with one last wave, a lump rose in my throat. I couldn't help remembering that beautiful moment Grant and I'd shared together that day near Pirate’s Cove.

Friday evening Tricia stopped by to visit while Jeff did his weekly lawn mowing. They'd come together in his Porsche. Seeing him in the back yard made my heart twist with longing, but I tried hard not to let it show.

Tricia and I sat on the deck, drinking Cokes and talking. I sensed something was bothering her.

"I've just got a phone call from my parents in London," she said above the drone of the lawnmower. "The research project is going very well, but there's still more work to be done. They're going to have to remain there until next June. They want me to join them soon--in enough time to get settled before I start school. That means I'll be spending my senior year in England and probably graduating there too."

"Does Jeff know?" I asked, taken aback. Unexpectedly my heart went out to her. Imagine having to be flung apart from your boyfriend just when you thought you were finally together again. Maybe life for Tricia and Jeff wasn't so perfect after all.

"Yes. We've already talked about it," she answered. "But we know nothing can come between us. Not even a nine month's separation on different continents. We're simply too much in love."

I felt my resentment slipping away as I nodded in agreement. "But why not stay with your grandparents?" I asked. "That way you could graduate at your own school."

Sighing deeply, she picked at a piece of lint on the sleeve of her powder blue blouse. "It won't work. Gram and Gramps have already made plans to travel south in their motor home this winter. They'll be on the road a lot and it's important they go. Gramp's arthritis always flares up in the damp, rainy weather we get here on the coast."

"Gosh, Tricia," I said. "Maybe you can come to Minnesota and live with us."

Her frown turned into a smile. "Thanks, Logan. That's sweet. But I really belong in London with my parents. And who knows, maybe it will prove to be an adventure...that is, as much as it could with Jeff so far away."

"I guess you're right," I agreed. "So what are you going to do with Midnight?"

"I was just getting to that...I need to ask a favor. I can't take her to England because of the quarantine laws. Will you take care of her? I've already asked Jeff, but his folks hate cats. And of course it's out of the question for my grandparents while they're traveling."

She appeared to hold her breath, waiting for my reply. "I'll be glad to," I said, "if Mom and Dad agree. I'm almost sure they will. I have to admit, I've kind of missed that crazy cat."

"Oh, thank you! Thanks so much." She flung her arms around me, then pulled back quickly. "You know that carrying case you bought earlier this summer for Midnight? Tell me how much it cost and I'll pay you for it. If your folks say yes, you'll probably need it for the drive back to Minnesota."

"Yes, I suppose we will." I hesitated, biting my lip.

"Tricia?"

"Yes?"

"There's something I want to explain. I know Jeff told you about that night of the beach party when I showed up with Midnight. But what you perhaps didn't know was that I planned it that way." I licked my lips, then continued. "It wasn't a coincidence that I ended up at the same beach where Jeff was. I wanted to get his attention and used Midnight as my excuse. The bottom line was I liked Jeff too."

As I talked, I watched the play of expressions on her face. Her surprise changed to something that looked like regret.

"But it doesn't matter anymore," I continued. "I really mean that. It was hard at first--but now I know you and Jeff are perfect for each other."

Her eyes misted over. "Thanks, Logan. But...but I guess there's something I need to say to you too."

"What?"

"I didn't mean to be so dense and insensitive to your feelings." She bit her lip, then went on. "What I'm trying to say is, even though I knew you and Jeff went out a couple of times and he said it was no big deal, it never occurred to me you might like him too. I guess I was simply too blinded by my own happiness. I was so excited about coming back home and being with him again."

"And I can't blame you for that," I answered. "It was understandable. If Jeff had been my boyfriend, I'd probably have acted the same way." I covered her hand with mine. "Let's be friends, Tricia. Real friends."

We hugged again. For a long time neither of us said anything.

"Come on." I finally broke the silence, then smiled. Let's go inside and talk to my parents. Midnight's future is at stake."

Chapter 12

"Midnight is such an adorable cat," Mom said, closing the book she'd been reading and darting a questioning look at my father. "I don't see why we can't keep her in Minnesota."

Dad hit the mute button on the TV control and nodded. He'd been listening to Tricia's and my explanation above the sounds of a car chase scene. "No problem as far as I'm concerned." He chuckled. "If she starts knocking the receiver off our phone too, maybe we can teach her to take messages and get rid of that blasted answering machine."

"What a relief," Tricia exclaimed from her spot next to me on the family room couch. "You don't know how much this means to me."

The soft lamp light gave the place a warm cozy appearance. Dusk was falling a little earlier with each passing day and the lights we used to turn on shortly before bedtime now shone a good part of the evening.

"Yes, it's the least we can do," my mother said with a smile. "I'm afraid your family may have gotten the short end of our house exchange agreement. Too bad your folks had to leave Minnesota so soon." She sighed. "But my goodness, where has the summer gone?"

Tricia returned her smile and shrugged. "I guess that's how it is when your parents are into research. This isn't the first time we've had to move."

The ringing of the telephone punctuated the drone of the lawnmower outside, then stopped suddenly. Monty must've answered it in his room.

"Oh, by the way, good luck at the sandcastle contest." Tricia's voice pulled me back to the conversation. "I wish I could be there, but it might be a long time till I have another chance to watch Jeff surf."

"I'll take lots of pictures," I promised. "I'm really excited about tomorrow."

A few minutes later, Jeff finished his yard work and he and Tricia left. It was after ten.

"Hey, Sis!" Monty nearly bumped into me as I was heading out to the kitchen to get a snack. "Guess what? I finally got to do what you said."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

My brother hitched a thumb in his belt loop. "Don't you remember? You said if Grant Duncan called for you, to make up a lie and tell him you weren't home. Well, that's what happened about an hour ago. He called and I lied."

"Sh!" I said, glancing over my shoulder at my parents. "Don't talk so loud. You know Mom and Dad. They'll think I'm teaching you bad habits!"

"Well, that's what you said, Logan!"

"I know. But from now on, forget it. I'll handle my own problems."

He lifted his chin. "I'm going to bed."

After munching on a couple of chocolate chip cookies and drinking a glass of milk, I said good-night to my parents and headed down the hallway. Thoughts of Grant kept floating up in my mind. Though I'd been wrong in lashing out at him, I had to save face. Besides, I never went out with guys who were shorter than me--that day at Pirate’s Cove didn't count.

***

The morning of the sandcastle contest dawned warm and sunny. Magic filled the air. Hundreds of spectators milled about watching the teams of contestants make their last minute preparations. Small children dotted the beach, buckets in hand, while the grown-up sandcastlers talked feverishly.

Huddled in our designated area, my family and I laid out our sculpting tools, then reminded each other of our agreed upon duties.

"You be our go-fer," Dad said to Monty. He grinned and ruffled my brother's unruly red hair. "Make sure our buckets and spray bottles stay filled at all times." Through black framed sunglasses, Dad squinted down at his registration brochure. "It says here that the judging will take place at noon. High tide is at three, so that will give the spectators and news reporters plenty of time to look everything over."

Monty's friends cruised by on mountain bikes, then stopped to peer at us. "Yo Monty!" the first one called. "Good luck!"

"Yeah, hope you win!" the other one hollered.

Monty waved at them. "See you after the contest!" Then he turned to us and added importantly, "I promised Gerald and Sam I'd help them clean up the beach. Lots of people are doing that, you know."

"Way to go," Dad told my brother. "Maybe we can all help out."

I squirmed uncomfortably, knowing most likely Grant would be heading it up.

Mom unfolded a photo of the Marksburg castle she'd snipped from an old National Geographic. "Take another look at this, everyone. Pay special attention to that tallest structure, which is the Markus tower, and the medieval curtain wall."

"Is that tower where they used to have the torture chambers?" my brother asked, grinning impishly.

"Yes, Monty," Mom said, slanting him a look. "But I only mentioned that as historical trivia--and so we can create an authentic sandcastle."

"Mom's right," Dad put in. "The more authentic we can make our castle, the better our chances of winning."

Many of the teams were bigger than ours. The rules allowed up to eight people. To one side of us was a group of five guys and two women--in their late twenties, I'd say. They were dressed in neon colored T-shirts and shorts and were laughing and talking among themselves. Just my luck--Grant had been assigned only two spaces away. My predictions about how easy it'd be to ignore him had quickly flown out the window. Already he'd indicated he wanted to talk with me, but I had managed to put him off. A half an hour ago at registration, I'd overheard him telling the judges the rest of his team couldn't make it.

I jerked my head in Grant's direction and said to my family, "There's Grant Duncan--over there. He's the guy who got me interested in sand sculpting in the first place."

"Ah," Dad said, following my gaze. "So that's the young man. I should take a minute to go over and chat with him. Maybe he'll have some last minute pointers."

"No, don't bother," I answered more sharply than I'd intended. I felt my face flush. "I mean...he's probably trying to concentrate right now...get his own ideas together." Why had I pointed him out in the first place? My family might never have known the difference.

Mom looked back at me. "All right. Maybe so. But after the contest, you will introduce us, won't you? Besides, if he's as good as you say he is, he'll probably take first prize." She laughed. "Everyone likes to know a celebrity."

I shrugged, hoping she wouldn't pursue this conversation any longer. She didn't.

The band of mist that clung to the water's edge was beginning to lift. Seagulls screeched, mingling their cries with the occasional barks of dogs.

"The judges are looking at their watches!" Monty exclaimed. "It's almost time to start!"

Soon the town mayor strode forward and the starting gun sounded. Its shot echoed off the distant hillside.

My heart raced as we mounded and molded and carved--then mounded some more. Working from the top down, I felt the grainy coolness of the sand beneath my hands, smelled the sharp odor of seafoam that carried on the breeze. My face flushed with the sun's heat and the intensity of my concentration.

The minutes ticked by, but I lost all track of time. Off to the side, I barely noticed the people watching us. Shouts and murmurs filled the air, the sound of a baby crying, more barking dogs.

Heaving a sigh, I straightened, then stepped back to get a better look. Our sandcastle was beginning to take form. At the base, we'd fashioned bridges and tunnels and a narrow twisting roadway leading to the top. A deeply carved mote wrapped around it.

At high tide the sea would rush in to fill the mote, making our creation look even more real. The Markus tower on the top stood like a mighty beacon with its shorter corner towers and thick surrounding walls.

"Isn't it something?" Mom exclaimed, standing back to join me. "Just look at the details. Of course, few real castles still have motes--most were demolished with time--but what sandcastle would be complete without one?"

"Yes," I murmured. "I think this is the best we've

ever..." My voice trailed. Though I'd been totally engrossed in our efforts, something wasn't right. For me the enchantment had evaporated. What had happened to that special feeling when Grant and I had made sandcastles together?

"Monty, we're getting low on water," Dad said, slicing through my reverie. "Hurry before the sand dries out! We must make every minute count."

"I'm going! I'm going!" My brother scooped up the near empty buckets and ran towards the water.

For the first time since the contest had begun, I peered over at Grant. His drip castle--one of the techniques he'd shown me the first time we met on the beach--was beautiful! The tapering spires, some low and thick, others tall and dignified, silhouetted against the water and the sand. People were gathered around him--not moving on to other entries as they had with ours, but staying right there. Their faces mirrored their admiration.

"Wow! Look!" someone called out, pointing. "This one's gonna take first prize."

Mom shaded her eyes with her hand and peered in that direction. "Looks as if Grant Duncan's got a captivated audience."

I didn't comment. Already it was nearly eleven. Only one hour to go. Grant appeared oblivious to the people gathered around him. His movements were skillful and quick. His concentration was unfaltering. It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore him.

Unexpectedly a shout jarred me. "Hey! Watch out!"

I looked up to see the caller's horrified expression.

My mouth went dry. A pack of frenzied dogs was streaking straight in our direction.

Chapter 13

Lunging forward, waving my arms and shouting, I tried to stop the dogs, but it was too late. They'd already charged straight through our sandcastle, wrecking it.

"Oh no!" more shouts chorused about us. "Get those critters out of here!" someone else yelled.

Farther down the beach, people doused the dogs with buckets of icy sea water. Still barking, the dogs halted suddenly and loped towards the parking lot.

Through eyes blurred with tears I looked over at Grant's space. His sculpture had been destroyed too.

"Don't worry, folks!" a judge announced through a megaphone. "There's still an hour to go. Plenty of time to repair the damage."

"The man's right!" Dad said under his breath. "Let's get busy."

"Oh sure!" Monty shrieked, looking first at Dad, then Mom as tears moistened his cheeks. He threw down his bucket. "Dumb dogs! They've trashed our sandcastle. I'm quitting."

"Monty's right!" I exclaimed. "It's no use. How can we start over with only an hour left?"

"You can do it, Logan." Grant's voice jolted me. "And I want to help."

I spun around to face him. I didn't know what to say-- yet my heart was spilling over with so many mixed up feelings.

"But Grant," Mom put in softly. "What about your sandcastle? You can't help us and rebuild yours too."

"It's not that important," Grant replied evenly, turning a small shovel over in his hand. "I've entered lots of sandcastle contests before, and for me there'll be others. But maybe not for you."

"It is important!" I protested in spite of myself. "You even told me so. You've waited a long time for this, Grant." Mom and Dad exchanged a tentative glance, then my father said, "Logan's right, young man. Your castle was a winner for sure. And I've got good news. My wife and I were going to tell the kids later, but maybe now's the time. This may not be our last contest. We placed a call to London this morning to work out an agreement with the Merritts. We're going to trade houses again next summer!"

Monty clapped his hands and cheered.

"Gosh, Dad! That's terrific!" I exclaimed. I stole a look at Grant as he broke into the biggest smile I'd ever seen. Then he pushed up his sleeves and turned to my brother. "Well, last contest or not, time's a wasting. Monty, hustle up and tell the judges to change your entry form. Add my name too."

Monty did as Grant asked before any of us could stop him. It was obvious Grant had made up his mind.

Our team worked feverishly. Little-by-little the castle started to emerge once again. Grant was kneeling right next to me, so near I could hear his gentle breathing. Once in a while our arms touched. I bit my lip, fighting back the new rush of emotions threatening to surface.

"Are you going to use your drip technique for the spires?" I asked him, groping for something safe to talk about. Twenty minutes remained. Barely time for the finishing touches.

"Not my technique, Logan. I didn't invent it." He paused. "But the answer to your question is no. I'm helping put back what was already there. This is still your entry. I'm just along for the ride."

I nodded, averting my gaze. How different Grant was from Jeff, I mused. While Jeff craved leadership and winning, Grant had forfeited his chances on my family's behalf.

My thoughts swung back to the beginning of the summer. From the first moment I'd spotted Jeff surfing on the beach, I'd admired his confidence and control. But wasn't Grant a leader, too, in his own special way? Hadn't he taken a stand when he started his beach clean-up campaign in Sunset Beach? At the sound of the judge's whistle, I gave a start. "Oh, darn!" a contestant next to us cried, throwing down a spatula. "If only we had five minutes more."

Yet it was high noon. The contest was over. Soon the judges would cruise by on their dune buggy, jotting down notes on their score pads, nodding their heads in quiet discussion.

Drained, I flopped down on the sand. A cool breeze contrasted the heat radiating up around me. I blew my bangs off my forehead, then wiped my face with the back of my hand. Somehow we'd done it. We'd managed to reconstruct our sandcastle. And it looked even better than before.

While Monty and my parents wandered a short distance away looking at the other entries, Grant sauntered back to his space to pick up the rest of his tools.

As I watched him, my stomach twisted in knots. How could I have said those terrible things to him during our quarrel? Grant's only reply had been we'd talk later--when I decided to grow up. He didn't deserve my cruel back-lash. Nor did I deserve the second chance he'd offered.

Hoisting myself up from the sand, I sauntered hesitantly over to him. "Grant?"

"Yes?"

"Can we go some where private to talk?" I held myself tall and tried to smile. It no longer mattered that he was shorter than I. What really mattered was that I'd discovered Grant Duncan was the most caring, unselfish, wonderful boy in the entire world.

"Uh...yeah. Sure. But don't you want to be around when they announce the winner?"

"Yes, but not as much as I want to talk to you. Besides, the rest of my family will stick close by. Please Grant. We have to talk now."

One corner of his mouth turned up. I thought I could see a faint glimmer spring to his eyes. "All right," he said. "Let's head over to that sand dune at the end of the beach. I don't see anyone there."

I fought back last-minute misgivings. How could I ever explain my feelings for him? Would he understand?

"I've got my binoculars in the car," he went on. "We'll stop by there first to pick them up. That way we can still watch the judging."

"All right."

Minutes later we sat on top of the sand dune looking out over the beach. The white sand sparkled in the sunlight. Farther out, the gentle ocean swells were frosted with white caps.

"So?" Grant finally spoke. "Does this mean you're ready to try it again? Can we talk now without throwing verbal daggers at each other?" He stared straight ahead, his mouth drawn in a grim line.

My heart was pounding inside my chest. "Yes...I...I'm sorry, Grant. I'm sorry for those childish things I said. I didn't mean it. Honest, I didn't."

My words, finally released, were spilling out like a geyser. "You were right. I was upset about Jeff and Tricia--and I ended up taking it out on you. But that part of my life is okay now. I really mean that."

He turned to me and tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. "I'm glad, Logan."

I swallowed hard before going on. "You were also right about what was going on inside of me. I admit that there's more to life than beach parties and surfing and...and even..." I hesitated, getting all choked up inside.

"And even castles in the sand?" Grant finished softly. He took my hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Yes," I said with a sigh. It was true. As much as I'd looked forward to the contest today, I realized more than ever how fragile our sandcastles could be. Not only were they claimed by the wind and the waves, but unwelcome intruders could destroy them too. What really mattered, I guessed, were the people in our lives and the good we could do for the world. Much like the good Grant was doing...

For a long moment, I held his gaze. Then I spoke again. "All along--while everything else crumbled around me--you stood by. Will you forgive me, Grant? Forgive me for acting like such a jerk?"

He put his arm around me, pulling me close. Then he planted a soft kiss on my lips. "Does that answer your question?" he asked.

I nodded, wanting to cry and laugh at the same time. "Oh, Grant, I--."

"Shh!" He held a finger to my lips. "Now it's my turn. I love you, Logan. I knew it the minute I first saw you dancing on the beach. And though some people--Jeff, for one--claim they don't believe in summer romances, I don't agree. I do believe."

He stopped talking and kissed me again. This time his lips lingered on mine. I felt all warm and tingly in a way I'd never known before.

"And I love you too," I said breathlessly after we'd finished kissing. "Grant, will you write to me this winter?"

"Of course. As often as I can."

"And...and when my family and I come back, will we see each other again?" I held my breath, praying his answer would be yes.

He squeezed my hand. "Every minute possible."

My heart leaped with joy. Suddenly the sound of cheering drew my attention back down the beach. A crowd of people were clustered around one of the sandcastle entries-- it looked like ours!

"Give me those binoculars!" I cried, reaching out. I focused the lens. Mom and Dad appeared to be laughing as they stood next to the judges. Monty was jumping up and down, holding up a ribbon. Wait! It was a blue ribbon. We'd won first prize!

"Wow," I gasped, thrusting the binoculars back to him. "Take a look! This can't be real."

He lifted the binoculars and paused. "Looks real enough to me. And if you need more convincing, don't miss the news on TV tonight. One of the biggest broadcasters in the area is on the scene now. Their cameras are ready to roll."

I got to my feet. "Come on! My parents are probably wondering what happened to us. Besides, there's still more work to do. We've got to get ready for the beach clean-up."

He darted me a surprised grin. "You really mean that?", "Of course I do!"

His grin deepened as he held my gaze. "You are a winner, Logan! In more ways than one."

As we strode arm-in-arm down the beach, my thoughts turned unexpectedly to Amy. I couldn't wait to share my news with her: the sandcastle contest...the pack of dogs...the blue ribbon. But most of all, I couldn't wait to tell her everything about Grant Duncan.

He was truly my hero--my knight in shining armor.

The End