There was some champagne left, and he had no intention of wasting it.

Chapter 2

Garrett settled back into one of the folding chairs and again gazed out over the moonlit Atlantic. Night had fallen in earnest, so he switched on the electric lantern and placed it on the porch rail. As he watched the sea Garrett knew that this view would be forever changing, yet always the same. So too would be the wonderful and ever present sound of the waves, crashing against the shoreline. He couldn’t wait to settle into the master bedroom on this side of the house, so he could fall asleep each night and awake each morning to the sounds of the sea. Even as a young boy he had loved watching the ocean, its endless horizons and countless waves always mesmerizing him. He had long wanted an oceanside home, and now he had it.

Restoring Seaside would be an ambitious project, and had he not been “of the trades,” the task might have appeared far too daunting. But given his expertise, he was eager to get started. He had selected Jay Morgan, Inc., a local contractor he trusted, for the restoration job. He had used Jay many times when building homes for clients. Garrett knew that with enough time and money he could properly restore this old house and all its furnishings to as near the original as possible.

Although he had designed many homes, this personal project would be uniquely liberating. Leaving no stone unturned, he would make Seaside his masterwork, and the hallmark of his career. Best of all, this time each decision would be his. There would be neither the catering to the dubious tastes of clients, nor any of the last-minute changes that drive architects to the brink of madness. He alone would dictate the work, and pour every bit of his knowledge into it to ensure its authenticity. Even more important, he was confident that when he was done he would own a thing of rare beauty.

His biggest challenge was finding the money to pay the contractor and buy the antique furnishings. He had already used much of his savings as a down payment on Seaside. But by selling his condo in New Bedford he should have enough to do the job. Even so, the timing would be tricky. Because New Bedford was a seaside town, her real estate market was seasonal. It was already October, and he had priced it a bit below market value to help get a quick sale.

Once the condo sold, Seaside would become his only home and need buttoning up before the coming winter. He wasn’t too concerned, however. The same Realtor who had helped him purchase Seaside was also the listing agent on his condo, and she had already shown it twice in the last three weeks. With a little luck it was a workable plan, but he was itching to get started on Seaside, and being forced to await his working capital grated on his nerves.

Realizing that he had become hungry, Garrett lifted the cooler to his lap and opened it. A stick of pepperoni, a good-size chunk of aged cheddar, and two sourdough rolls lay wrapped inside. He sliced off a few pieces of each and began eating, occasionally washing them down with what remained of the lukewarm champagne. While enjoying his makeshift dinner and watching the moonlight dance over the incoming waves, he took a moment to think about how he had gotten to this place by the sea.

Garrett was the son of a retired thoracic surgeon and a registered nurse, who met and fell in love while serving together in a MASH unit in Vietnam. After their discharge, Dale and Virginia Richmond settled in New Bedford. Garrett arrived one year later, and his sister, Christine, two years after that.

Every summer during the long march toward his master’s degree, he’d worked in the trades of carpentry, electrical, masonry, plumbing, or landscaping. Although he never became a true master of any, he nonetheless acquired the practical knowledge that contractors appreciate in an architect.