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Monday, May 4, 2015


Welcome! This week we continue with Maggie's story. Don't forget to visit the spectacular writers for Tuesday Tales. Link is at the end of this post. 


    Mr. and Mrs. Roberts jetted off to Puerto Rico for a weekend, leaving Maggie and John in charge of little Penn. A rambunctious two-year-old, he required two to watch him. Maggie found herself falling into the role of parent with ease. John made a fun-loving dad, which surprised her.
    As a reward for giving up their weekend, The Roberts gave them both two days off and the use of the car.
    “Let’s drive to Montauk. It’s supposed to be beautiful there. Beach, ocean, and lobster. What say, Maggie, my girl? Are you game?”
    “Separate rooms?”
    "Of course,” he chuckled.
    “You’re on.”
    John loaded the luggage into the car. She had a  tearful parting with young Penn, who threw a tantrum as she left the house. John had to pull her away gently from the screaming child.
    Once they hit the Long Island Expressway, Maggie began to relax. It wasn’t long before there was a traffic jam.
    “How about lunch?” She said.
    “I packed a hamper for us. The Missus said I could.”
    “I am a bit peckish. What’ve you got in there?”
    “Beautiful sandwiches –black forest ham, avocado, thin slice of tomato and the finest fresh red leaf lettuce.”
    “Gads. Sounds mouth-watering.” John put the car in park while Maggie handed him half a sandwich.
    “And raspberry iced tea, too.”
    “Oh, the Americans are so ignorant about tea,” John bemoaned.
    “You can say that again. But this is passable.”
    “I’ll take your word for it.”
    They reached the small motel just before dinnertime. John took Maggie to a clam shack by the sea.
    “Tell me about your family,” she asked, dipping her clam in the melted butter.
    “I’m one of ten.”
    “Ten? I thought our family was big.”
    “They don’t miss me, I’m sure.”
    “But your mum?”

    “Mum was wonderful. But she died five years ago. My sister Agnes has taken over running the place.”        
    “Do ya like her?”
    He made a face. “Never a favorite of mine.”
    After dinner they walked hand in hand on the beach. Maggie hiked up her skirt and waded in the surf. John followed. A wave that didn’t look too strong, knocked into her, throwing her down on top of John. They laughed as the water soaked them completely.
    She rolled over, her knees in the soft sand between his legs. He snaked his arm about her waist, while his hand cupped her head. Slowly he lowered her lips to his. On her elbows, Maggie sank down farther in the sand until she was lying, full weight on him.
    “You’re lovely,” John murmured before capturing her mouth again.

    Maggie’s reserve melted in the warm, salty water. She kissed him with enthusiasm. He helped her up. They returned to the motel to change into dry clothes. Sharing a snifter of brandy with John in the moonlight by the ocean, Maggie’s heart opened to the man who treated her like the Queen of England. 
"A bit wasteful, payin' for two rooms, don't you think?" She asked, looking up into his eyes. 

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