Sunlight bounced off the waves and the gulls swooped down from above as if they wished to steal the flowers from the ladies’ hats. Small boys raced up and down the boardwalk, weaving between the adults, garnering scoldings for their unruliness. Up ahead, the pier, still under construction, stretched out like a steel leviathan whose tail had been anchored to the beach. Yesterday, I had only had a hurried glimpse of it as Officer Yancey escorted me to the Belden. I was eager to take a closer look. Indeed, all along the beach, strollers were drawn to the imposing structure. A large crowd had assembled as close as was safe, and I was as curious as the rest. Clanging and hammering echoed from where men stood atop the pier, fastening bolts and attaching beams. I watched the work for a few moments before continuing on. I slowed as I passed a sign advertising tintypes and souvenir photographs. The scent of hot roasted peanuts and buttered popcorn wafted toward me from a cart, its metal wheels half buried in the sand near the foot of the Sea Shore House.
