Fear Thy Neighbor (15)

Walking along the beach, she dared a glance as she strolled past the large homes facing the beach. They appeared empty, devoid of life. No one sitting on deck chairs, no grills wafting scents of barbecue, no loud music blaring. All the things one would expect on the weekend, but Alison guessed most of these homeowners were snowbirds, leaving their winter homes empty in the heat of summer. She continued to walk, stopping to take her shoes off. Lacing them together, she tossed them around her neck, then walked into the gulf, the sand soft against the bottoms of her feet. In the distance, she spotted another beachcomber, unsure if they were male or female, as she was too far away to see. She proceeded to stroll in the direction of the person, thinking if it was John, she would whip out her pistol to threaten him if he tried to harm her. She could see the figure now. It was a woman. As she moved closer, she saw she was barefoot, her long legs tan and shapely in the denim shorts she wore. She didn’t dare call out to her, but the closer she got, the woman still didn’t sense her presence, or if she did, Alison guessed she was purposely ignoring her. Not wanting to frighten her, she decided she’d best head back to the Jeep.

“Hey, you don’t have to leave,” called the young woman.

Alison stopped. She turned around to face the woman. She couldn’t be more than eighteen. Her eyes were the most stunning shade of blue she’d ever seen; maybe she wore contacts. Her blonde hair was long and thick.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Alison said.

“You didn’t. I was just finishing up my yoga. It’s quiet this time of year, so I love doing yoga on the beach. Actually, it’s pretty quiet most of the year.” The woman smiled, her teeth as white as the puffy clouds above. “Are you here to visit or what?”

Alison wondered that herself. “I’m just passing through.”

“I’m Renée Dubois.”

“Alison.” She wasn’t going to give her last name, as it wasn’t necessary.

“Pretty name,” Renée said. “My dad was French, or at least that’s what my mom tells me. Hence my name.”

“Your name does sound very French, very Parisian.” Alison emphasized the last word, trying to emulate the proper French pronunciation.

“And I’ve never been out of Florida. Lived here with Mom my entire life.”

She wanted to ask if they lived in one of the beach houses, but she didn’t want to appear too nosy. “That’s nice, to have roots and all.”

“So you move around a lot?” Renée asked.

Alison gave her credit—she was very perceptive for her age.

“I do, but it’s what I like. Never really wanted to stay in one place too long. So many places to explore,” she said, hoping she sounded like a free spirit, not a woman who’d spent her entire life searching for a place to belong.

“Wow, you’re lucky. I wish I could travel. When I finish high school, I am outta here. I can’t wait to see the world.”

So she was much younger than Alison first guessed.

“How long before you graduate?”

“I’m starting my junior year in the fall. I like school most of the time; other times, it totally sucks. Especially math, I hate it,” she said, smiling and showing off her perfect teeth.

Up close, Alison saw Renée’s features were that of a much younger girl, a beautiful girl who would morph into a knockout in a couple years. “I’m not a math whiz, either,” she said, even though she’d made excellent grades when she attended school, and shockingly she’d graduated with honors. Little good it did her, as she’d never pursued a college education. There were times when she’d thought about taking a few classes, but felt she was too old, and she knew what she needed to get by in this world. A college education wasn’t in her future.

Renée sat down on the sand, patting the spot beside her. “Have a seat. I’m staying for the sunset, but I told Mom I’d be home right after.”

Alison thought she’d spend a few hours waiting, as it was early afternoon. “So you stay on the beach all day?” She didn’t want to sit on the damp sand, so she stood beside Renée, digging her bare feet in the sand.

“It’s my day off from the shop. Mom lets me hang out till sunset. Only in the summer, though. During the school year, she’s so strict I want to pull my hair out.”

Alison laughed. “Your mom loves you, that’s why she’s strict.”

“Do you know my mom? Has she ever read for you?” Renée asked.

Puzzled by her question, she shook her head. “I’m just passing through, so no, I don’t know your mom.”

“Well, you should see her before you leave the island. She’s the real deal. ‘Gifted’ is what she calls it.”

Curious, Alison asked, “What is she gifted in?” This was unknown territory, so maybe she shouldn’t have asked.

“She’s psychic,” Renée said.

Expecting anything but that, Alison knew her surprise showed on her face.

“It’s okay, we know it’s odd to strangers who don’t live around here. Mom reads the Tarot, all kinds of cool stuff. I never tell her I think it’s cool, but it is.”

“So how does one make an appointment with your mom?”