“We’re in luck,” he exclaimed, pulling into a vacant slot remarkably close to the pathway that led from the parking lot to the beach up over an impressive fifty-foot grass-covered dune. As usual, Juliette was excited at the prospect of being on the beach, so she was first out of the car and impatient as Emma and Brian unloaded. Despite her agitation, she was willing to accept carrying the bag of corn and most of her toys in addition to Bunny. While Emma carried the cooler and towels, Brian handled the grill, the briquettes, and the aluminum beach chairs.
It was late afternoon and the sun streaming over their shoulders painted the entire scene in a rich, golden glow. Everyone they passed leaving the beach was wearing their pandemic mask, as were the Murphys. When they crested the dune, Emma and Brian paused to take in the dramatic sight of the wide, sandy beach and the large expanse of the Atlantic. The breeze was onshore, and it carried the sound of the two-to-three-feet-high waves as they broke. Since the tide was going out, there were numerous tide pools, which Juliette loved, since she was a bit intimidated by the ocean. Capping the impressive scene were large cumulus clouds that hung over the vista like dollops of whipped cream.
“Which way?” Juliette called over her shoulder.
“What do you think?” Brian asked Emma.
“I’d say north,” she responded after glancing in both directions. “There’s less people. And there’s a good-sized tide pool directly in front.”
“To your left,” he shouted to Juliette, who had already run down toward the water’s edge.
They set up their camp about a hundred feet north of the path and up against the steep dune embankment. While Brian struggled with the grill, Emma put sunscreen on Juliette before handing the spray can to him. After tossing Bunny onto one of the towels, Juliette immediately bounded off for the tide pool.
“Don’t go in the waves until I’m down there with you,” he yelled to her, and she waved back to signal that she had heard.
“When do you think we should eat?” she asked.
Brian shrugged. “It’s up to you. Just give me fifteen to twenty minutes’ notice to get the briquettes fired up.” He poured them into the grill and closed the lid. “Meanwhile, let’s join Juliette.”
For the next forty-five minutes they ran in the wash from the surf, either chasing or being chased by Juliette. At one point he managed to get Juliette to venture out into the breakers with him holding her hand, but he could tell she really didn’t like it, so they quickly went back to the tide pool. Shortly after, Brian could see that Emma was already back preparing the corn at their campsite, which was now in shadow. Taking the hint, he told Juliette it was time to start the barbecue and that he would race her with him running backward. Delighted at the prospect of beating her father, Juliette took off with a squeal and, mostly thanks to Brian getting a late start, gained a commanding lead.
“I’m afraid we have some unwelcome visitors,” Emma announced the moment they came running back.
“What do you mean?” he asked. He glanced around, mostly skyward. On their previous visit to Newcomb Hollow Beach they’d had a run-in with a few very persistent seagulls and had been amazed at the birds’ boldness.
“No seagulls,” she said, reading his mind. “Mosquitoes.”
“Really?” he questioned. He was surprised, considering the significant onshore breeze.
“Yes, really,” Emma said. “Look!” She raised her left arm and pointed to the base of her deltoid muscle. Poised and obviously preparing to bite was a black mosquito with white markings, but before the insect could do its worst, she slapped it with an open palm. When she pulled her hand away, she could see that the creature was reduced to a tiny bloody corpse, indicating it had already bitten someone else but still wasn’t satiated.
“I don’t think I’ve seen a mosquito like that,” Brian said. “Rather distinctive coloring.”
“I have,” Emma said. “It was an Asian tiger mosquito.”
“How the hell do you know about Asian tiger mosquitoes?”
“During one of my ESU Academy medical lectures, we learned about arboviral disease and climate change. The lecturer specifically talked about Asian tiger mosquitoes, which used to be restricted to the tropics, but now have spread widely northward all the way up to Maine.”
“I never got that lecture,” he complained.
“Times have changed, old man,” she said with a laugh. “Remember, you were two years ahead of me.”
“What’s arboviral disease, anyway?”
“Remember reading about yellow fever and building the Panama Canal? Well, yellow fever is an arboviral disease.”
“Yikes,” Brian said. “Has there ever been yellow fever in the USA?”
“Not since 1905 in New Orleans, if I’m remembering correctly,” Emma said. She abruptly ran her fingers through her hair and then waved her hand above her head. “Uh-oh, I can hear more of the bastards. Aren’t they bothering you?”
“Not yet. Juliette, do you hear any mosquitoes?”
Juliette didn’t answer, but like her mother, she suddenly waved her hands around her head, suggesting she was hearing them.
“Did you bring the bug spray?” Emma asked with urgency.
“It’s in the car. I’ll run and get it.”
“Please,” Emma said. “The sooner the better. Otherwise we are going to be miserable.”
With no further urging, Brian grabbed his mask, jogged down the beach, and then went up over the dune. As he expected, he found the can of OFF in the glove compartment. When he got back to the beach less than ten minutes later, Juliette was again in the tide pool.
“I tell you,” Emma said as she began to apply the repellent, “these winged bastards were aggressive while you were gone. I had to send Juliette down to the water.”
“I tried to be quick.” He took the spray and applied it as Emma had done and then called Juliette back from the water’s edge to protect her as well.
Once the Murphys had the mosquitoes at bay, they were able to get back to their barbecue. The corn cobs went on the grill first, followed by the hamburger patties, and finally the clams. By the time the food was cooked and served, the entire beach was in the shadow of the dunes even though the ocean and the clouds were still in full sun.
After they had eaten their fill and partially cleaned up, Brian and Emma relaxed back into their respective beach chairs to finish the prosecco, have dessert, and savor the view. The setting sun, which was out of sight behind them, was tinting the puffy clouds pink. Juliette had retreated back down to the edge of the tide pool to make sandcastles in the damp sand.
For a while neither spoke. It was Emma who finally did. “I hate to break the spell,” she said, turning to Brian, “but I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should consider heading back to New York a little early.”
“Really? Why? We’ve got almost another week with the cottage.” He was surprised by her suggestion since coming to Cape Cod for vacation had initially been her idea, and they all seemed to be enjoying it immensely. Even the weather was cooperating.
“I’m thinking that maybe if we were back home we could do something to possibly drum up some business.”
“Do you have some new idea of how?” he asked. “What little work we had in the late spring totally dried up in July.”
Eight months earlier, Brian and Emma had retired from the NYPD to start their own personal protection security agency, which they appropriately called Personal Protection LLC. They had begun the firm with high hopes of success, considering the level of training and experience they had after being NYPD ESU officers — Brian for six years and Emma for four years, on top of each having been a regular police officer for five years. At the time of their retirement from the NYPD, both were sergeants and Brian had already passed the exam for lieutenant with flying colors. A consulting firm that they had hired at the end of the previous summer to advise them had projected rapid success and expansion for Personal Protection after supposedly taking all potential factors into account. Yet no one could have predicted the Covid-19 pandemic, which had reduced the demand for their services to almost nothing. In fact, during the last month they’d had no work whatsoever.