This was his first visit to the isolated northern tip of the island, where a stately lighthouse dominated the evocative, windswept landscape. And it was exactly the kind of spot he’d been looking for when he’d asked Edith to recommend an area as far removed as possible from the Fourth of July weekend holiday crowds. Getting here hadn’t been easy, however. Edith had warned him to let some air out of the tires on J.C.’s car before attempting the sand road that led to the lighthouse, and he’d have to refill them at the air pump near the main road when he left. But this glorious stretch of beach was well worth the effort required to reach it. Although there was a small cluster of people close to the lighthouse, he’d trekked down quite a distance. As a result, he had a long stretch of untouched sand all to himself. It was a good place to think. And regroup. His top two priorities after the traumatic events of the morning. Leaning forward on his portable stool, he concentrated on getting the curl of a wave just right.
