Chapter ElevenSea Scope, Twenty years ago
Right after Michael came to breakfast, Martin Brewster came through the parlor door. He had his gray sweatpants on and a Bretton Island t-shirt that was dripping with sweat. Sea Scope didn't have air conditioning, but ceiling fans kept it tolerable during the Southern summers.
“It must be close to ninety already,” he said, wiping his dark hair back from his face.
“How was the lighthouse?” Aunt Julie asked.
“It's all set for tonight. We should go there early to get the best view.” Every year Cape Bretton's town committee held a fireworks show on Bretton Island. The best location was practically right on Sea Scope's front lawn by the lighthouse.
“I hope it isn't too noisy,” Jennifer Brewster said, entering the kitchen. Her hair still looked unbr
