Nothing to report on the Lineage site either. She was beginning to dread opening her account and facing those glaring empty boxes. That morning, she’d closed her eyes and said a prayer, then looked.

The universe wasn’t listening. No connections reported. And she still didn’t have her new house. She was beginning to believe the entire journey was cursed.

Sleeping hadn’t been easy either, especially when she knew that as soon as it was a decent hour, she would have to go back there again and face Maria—and her children—and basically take their house out from under them.

She felt a roll of nausea—her normal reaction to stress—and wiped at the perspiration beading across her forehead. If she wasn’t so afraid, she’d go cool off in the water. She loved the ocean, but only from the safety of the beach. That sounded ridiculous even to her, considering she lived in a town that was a magnet for water people.

Shifting in her seat, she felt her chair begin to wobble to the side, just about to tip over and throw her into the sand. She struggled to balance her weight back into the middle; then suddenly all movement was stopped.

“Care to paddle out?” a hoarse voice asked.

She strained her eyes, using a hand to block the light. A man leaned over, his hand on the side of the chair to steady it. He pushed down, grounding the uneven side deeper into the sand, stabilizing it before letting go. She saw a board propped at his feet.

“Oh, thanks. Something happened with this chair. Not sure what.”

“No problem. So, do you want to go out?”

“No, I don’t think so,” she said. “I don’t surf.”

“Wasn’t asking you to surf. It’s a paddleboard. You kneel and use your arms to get out to the waves; then ride them back without standing until you get the hang of it. I can show you.”

She couldn’t tell if his tone was mocking. Was he saying he didn’t think she could surf? Was that some sort of insult based on her very nonmuscular body? Now her cheeks burned, and it wasn’t from the sun. She resisted telling him she had spinning class twice a week and jogged—okay, maybe walked—just as frequently. No, she wasn’t into lifting weights, so her fitness might not be as visible to the eye, but that didn’t make her a complete sloth.

“But,” he continued, “if you’re up to surfing, we can do that too. I’ve got a few boards on my truck.”