Sweets was her middle name, the staff of her life, and what paid her bills. The Mystic Muffins Bakery was a resounding success, thanks to her and Karen and the other women who made up their team. And owning a bakery gave her immediate access to relief, feeding her addiction.
Most of the time Lulu didn’t concern herself with not having a man in her life. In her heart of hearts, she would’ve liked to have a warm male to curl up to. To share donuts and old movies with. And it would be nice to have sex now and then, very nice indeed, but it was no big whoop. Most of the time.
Earlier that morning, Lulu had briefly met the man in cottage number two. She’d gone to get a copy of the Oregonian in the newspaper cage outside the office. Still dressed in the boxer shorts and Mickey Mouse t-shirt she’d slept in, Lulu hadn’t expected to run into anyone at five-thirty a.m.; but there he was. Ben Dunzer. Handsome. Virile. Blonde wavy hair, graying at the temples. Broad shoulders. Wearing the football jersey number double zero. He appeared to be the kind of man any woman would find attractive.
She couldn’t explain why she felt so drawn to him. This was a feeling so foreign to her. It wasn’t just his good looks, was it? Perhaps she was desperate. Well, duh!
Her dating experience thus far consisted of occasional dates. First dates only. But none of that mattered, for Ben would never be attracted to her anyway.
Lulu had been unpacking her car, when he asked if she needed help. She’d declined his offer. Was it because she wanted to show him she was no shrinking violet? Well, she hardly looked like a shrinking anything.
Turning away from the mirror, Lulu tossed her hair about her shoulders.
“I don’t have time for this bologna,” she said to Spirit, who was sitting on the edge of the bathtub grooming herself. Lulu grabbed her black leather jacket, wished the cat a great day, and stepped out onto the stoop.
The sun was blazing. She felt as though she’d entered another world from the one she’d been in last night. Gone were the black terrors. Gone were the shadows and fear. The town had come alive with the sights and smells of the ocean and the warm, sandy beach. Everywhere she looked were people and fun and surf. No wonder Bernard referred to Seaside as Paradise.
Lulu and Halley Bee
Behind The Gull Cottage Motel was Tillamook Head, a jutting land mass covered with forest and a lighthouse a mile from the Point. The surf pounded as it entered the curved inlet and crashed upon the rough pilings. Surfers in black rubber wetsuits rode the ocean’s wave. Beyond, the sea stretched blue and sparkling in the early morning sun.
Lulu knew that Surfer’s Cove was Bernard’s playground, where he spent so much of his time before and after his early death some sixty years ago. She looked for him now as she stood at the cove’s edge. But, she didn’t see him.
On the narrow strip of green grass, which ran the length of the six cottages, a young girl was feeding a fat seagull. She looked up and gave Lulu a big smile and a wave.
Lulu waved back. “Hi, there. Is that your seagull?”
“No, of course not, but it might as well be mine. It’s come here every day for the past two weeks. I’ve named it Florence.”
“How do you know it’s a female?”
“I know that the speckled ones are female and the gray and white ones are male.” The girl squinted in the bright sunlight. “This is a Western gull. It can live twenty or twenty-five years and sleeps in ground nests. And even though it’s a male, I’m going to call him Florence.” Her voice was loud in order to be heard above the roar of the ocean.
A male seagull named Florence. Well, certainly stranger things were happening in Seaside, Lulu thought.
The girl moved towards Lulu, giving her full attention to the peculiarly dressed, heavy woman.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Lulu Bean.” Lulu eyed the girl. She was about nine-years-old and dressed in purple from the polka-dotted tennis shoes on her feet up to the hair ribbons in her long, red curly hair. She had a turned-up nose, big brown eyes, and a mass of freckles. A pretty child in an odd sort of way.
“Is that a nickname?” the girl was asking.
“Yes. My given name is Lucille.”
The girl took some time to think this over. “It’s a funny name. Why do you have that orange stuff in your hair?”
Lulu laughed. “Because I like it. And who are you?”
“I’m Halley Bee Rice. I’m here with my mother for the entire summer. She’s deaf.”
“Hi, Halley Bee Rice. It’s great that you’re staying so long!”
“Where are you from? Did you bring a pet?”
Lulu laughed again. She liked Halley Bee, though too much of her at any one time might be exhausting.
“I’m from Cincinnati, Ohio. I have a black cat by the name of Spirit with me.”
Halley thought about this. “‘Spirit’. Cool. I have my cat, Buckley, with me. He’s nine. Same age as me.”
Halley watched Lulu closely. She stuffed her small hands into the deep pockets of her purple shorts and began to rock to and fro on her heels.
Lulu was intrigued by the way the girl was looking at her — kind of like she was seeing into her or maybe through her.
“I was just about to walk downtown and ...”
“No, thanks,” Halley interrupted, knowing what Lulu was about to say. “I don’t eat sweets. Too much sugar.”
How did the girl know Lulu was going to ask her about getting a donut?
“Well, I guess it’s better if you don’t, but I would die if I didn’t get my sugar fix every day.”
“That’s just an expression people use. You know you wouldn’t die if you didn’t eat sugar. You’re just addicted to it,” Halley explained, matter-of-factly.
There was something about Halley Bee Rice that was refreshing in an odd sort of way. She was honest, a girl who knew her own mind. Halley was an old soul, perhaps wiser than her years. Perhaps wiser than Lulu, herself.
“Of course, you’re right,” Lulu uttered, suddenly feeling foolish. She sucked in her stomach self-consciously.
“Have you met anyone else here?” Halley inquired.
“No. I just arrived last night.”
“Well, Mama, Buckley, and I are staying in cottage number five. A woman checked into number four two days ago. No one has seen her. Cottage number three was vacant as of this morning, but won’t be for long because all the motels fill up this time of year. Tourists, you know. Nature of the beast. Bennet Dunzer and Michael Matson are in cottage number two. They’re very nice. George and Iva Bacon are in cottage number one. They’re also very nice, and they’re old. Sometimes Mrs. Bacon is funny. Not funny ha-ha, but funny peculiar. She calls me her little ‘Cupcake.’ Let’s get real, Lucille, do I look like a cupcake? I mean, do I?” The girl posed her hands on her small hips, waiting for an answer.
If the truth be known, Lulu did think the girl looked like a cupcake, dressed in a purple fluted paper liner with grape frosting and sprinkles on top.
“I know why you’re here.”
Startled by Halley’s words, Lulu wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Why am I here?”
“For the same reason we all are.”
Lulu thought