By eight o'clock the meager cloud cover that slipped in overnight cleared away, leaving fair skies, a scattered few fluffy cumulus, and another beautiful day. The strident rays of a southern west coast sun beat down on the colorfully concentric umbrellas and white sands of the beach at Otterholt Point. Already a number of footprint trails besmirched the sandy shore, swept clean of yesterday's traffic by the night winds, but not that many, as people weren't out in force yet. And why should they be on vacation? No school, no shifts, no deadlines, no worries—for a little while the resort's guests could take life easy.

And Otterholt made it easy to take it easy. Lovely pools, rows of comfortable deck chairs, fluffy white beds, and a stretch of nigh-pristine beach made relaxing a cinch either in water or on terra forming, giving visitors ample opportunities to soak up the sun and let their cares drift away. If feeling more active, and not inclined to swim laps, they could head over to the sports courts, gym, or archery range instead. Thirsty patrons could stop by any number of the small bars, which readily served a wide variety to anyone with the blue wristband denoting adulthood. And of course, there were the restaurants. The red-roofed Cornucopia, a buffet open breakfast, lunch, and dinner, would be open for another hour before the platters and vats went away to prepare for the midday meal. 

Out on the beach, the by-now familiar group of Texan college buddies were gathering to practice volleyball, attracting other sporty folks and a few past-their-prime but dependable dads to get a game going. Out on the water bounced the Floating City, a vast, inflatable raft seldom without a bevy of children jumping about in glee. Resort staff currently worked to set up nylon barriers and a foam machine, which would soon become a bubble pit for young and not-so-young to romp in to rousing music. The speakers belted out an assortment of classic high-spirited tunes, not too loud, but notable enough to fill the shorefront with energy.

[i]Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand...”[/i]

Today, of course, was also bazaar day. A half-dozen stalls from the local area had set up shop on the beach, about halfway between the volleyball court and the work-in-progress foam pit. There was Diversion, manned by one Harry Heddlon, whose long, scruffy beard never went still owing to how much he talked. For sale he offered decks of cards, board games, books, and even some movies. Nearby stood Mejor de Mexico with its rows and rows of Spanish-flavored knickknacks, trinkets and souvenirs for people wanting to capture a slice of their current enjoyment and be reminded of better days it whenever they looked over their dresser or desk. Abuela Garcia, pleasant but a hard bargain. Next door was its big sister, Taste of Esperanto, which peddled similar wares of a more worldly nature. Little could be gleaned about its quiet manager, Emest Blauerstein, except that he'd traveled the globe in his younger years. Miss Tabby Pernickle and her Dalmatian, Ruby, ran the jewelry stand, taking a pretty penny to help people look and feel fine. Lastly, Mila Lister's excursion booth offered day trips to the farms outside Sweet Jazz City, where interested parties could pet some animals, pick some berries, and see the renowned countryside.

[i]...Just like that river twisting through a dusty land...[/i]

She couldn't exactly say why, but seeing all the activity below made Noelle happy. She took a long, deep breath of the clear ocean air, and gave the lotion bottle one last squirt before rubbing it thoroughly across Tucker's back. A moment later it was done, and he raced away to grab his things and join his sister at the door. Noelle reached down to grab her beach bag and hoist it onto her shoulder, ready to travel. With one last look at the soon-to-be foam pit, she turned to follow her family out of their room. The last time she'd seen one of those, she'd kept out of it, thinking it'd be a mucky mess. This time, she wouldn't miss her opportunity.

A few minutes later the kids charged out onto the beach, making a beeline for the Floating City. Noelle watched them leap into the surf with a smile on her face before heading to the umbrella where Heath had staked his family's claim on the way back from breakfast. On the way she stopped short to avoid a volleyball zipping in front her. A lanky, sandy-haired twenty-year-old barreled past her to grab it, calling, “Sorry, ma'am!” but she only smiled. With a grateful nod for her goodwill the dude ran back over, hollering, “Nice serve, Pete! You tryin' to hit people?”

“Y'ain't even gotten yours over the net!” His friend shot back.

Noelle spread her towel over the beach chair and lay down. She squeezed Heath's shoulder before reaching into her bag to pull out a book. “You should get in there again today,” she told him, indicating the volleyball game.

Snorting, Heath turned a page. “Nah, I'm not in the mood to get covered in sand again.”

“You wouldn't have gotten sandy if you didn't do that crazy dive,” Noelle pointed out.

Heath shrugged as if he'd had no choice. “Couldn't be helped. Had to do it.” Without even looking he could feel Noelle's eyebrow raising in incredulity. Clearly she remembered the ball bouncing off his head and out of bounds as well as he did. Grinning, he changed his tune. “Just not my thing. Besides, it's our last day. Want to take it easy.”

“Dad!”

Lucy ran toward them and stopped in a spray of sand, almost falling over. She pointed toward the Floating City. “Lizzy's dad was pulling the whale around but he had to go get a drink. Could you do it?” 

Heath glanced where his daughter pointed. He couldn't miss the trio of expectant kids on a big, inflatable whale, all with pleading looks on their faces. “Well, if you insist.” he agreed, getting up to save the day. Noelle stretched her arms, glanced at a staff member with a toucan snapping a picture with a visitor, and turned to watch the volleyball game. Another long, deep breath. This, she thought, is paradise.

If only she knew how much longer it would last.