I Arrived at My Beach House to Find It Under Construction. By Morning, They Were Knocking at 6 a.m.

”

“Next week.”

“I hope it goes well for you.”

“Me too.” He pulled an envelope from his jacket. “I wanted to give you this. It’s not money. It’s a letter. Read it when you want—or never, if you prefer—but I needed to write it.”

He placed it on the deck table and turned to leave. Then he stopped.

“One last thing. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not letting me continue reading …