Maddie felt the sun beat down harder, gaining strength each day. Even when the clouds scuttled in, the breeze remained heavy with humidity; a warm wet towel that wrapped itself around you and refused to be shrugged off. Despite the heat the once-sleepy island appeared wide awake and pulsing with life. The subs arrived early each morning and stayed late each afternoon. Boats and barges came and went bearing workmen, supplies, and materials; an invasion so complete that even William Hightower seemed at a loss as to which incursions loomed largest. Mermaid Point thrummed with the sounds of power tools and reverberated with shouts. Wherever Roberto worked, rock and roll and especially classic southern rock blared from portable speakers; something that William had at first blanched at and then pretended not to notice but that made Maddie’s blood quicken each time the strains of remembered favorites reached her. She lingered outside the garage late one afternoon where Roberto was framing in a new upstairs bath and stair just so that she could listen to a younger, edgier William Hightower’s pain-roughened vocals that lamented the mermaid who’d left him to return to the sea.
What do You think about The House On Mermaid Point?
