Free Seven Tears into the Sea by Terri Farley

asked Mrs. Heller.
    The flutter of appreciation stopped.
    Into the silence, the brassy blonde added, “You know, clubs, dancing, that sort of thing.”
    Everyone in the parlor was speechless. Talk about breaking a spell.
    Nana wore a vague smile, as if she were still coming out of a trance, and I tried not to be mad, but really, who would stay at the Sea Horse Inn, two hours in each direction from major cities, if she were looking for nightlife?
    Her husband was clearly embarrassed.
    â€œI want to walk on the beach and read,” he said, rubbing a hand over his balding head. “She wants to boogie.”
    Mrs. Heller jiggled her china teacup, then set it down with a rattle. Feeling protective of Nana’s china, I made a grab for it.
    â€œI’ll keep that, hon,” she told me, and the smile, which pleated her mahogany skin, told a cautionary tale.
    â€œOf course,” I said, making a mental note to use the sunscreen Mom had made me pack.
    By now, Nana had been congratulated by the teachers, who then hustled from the room, leaving an air of disapproval behind.
    â€œFor real nightlife, you’ll have to stay for our Midsummer celebration next weekend,” Nana said. “At Mirage Beach and Siena Bay we’ve all grown up celebrating the summer solstice.”
    â€œSounds kind of pagan and rowdy,” Mr. Heller said.
    As he winked at his wife and offered me his empty plate, I realized it was six o’clock. Teatime had long since ended.
    â€œDown in the village, there’ll be a parade, games, and sales in all the shops, of course,” Nana said.
    â€œAnd up here?” he asked, sitting forward a little.
    â€œWe’re more traditional at the Point,” Nana explained. “We have a bonfire the night before and tell more stories.”
    The wife rolled her eyes in boredom as I collected dishes to take to the kitchen. I didn’t blame Nana for keeping the best part of Midsummer’s Eve secret.
    Of course I hadn’t been to one since I was a little kid, but Midsummer’s Eve was sort of rowdy.
    You were required to stay up all night, to build huge, sky-scorching bonfires, and dance yourself silly. After rough competitions, a Summer King and Queen were crowned with flower garlands. As a girl Nana had been Summer Queen three years in a row, and her garland crowns, faded to pale pink and lavender despite some kind of chemical preservative, hung over the fireplace as decorations.
    â€œThe solstice,” the husband mused, as his wife shifted with impatience. “What is that exactly?”
    â€œThe first day of summer and the longest day of the year,” Nana said. “After the solstice, every day grows shorter, lengthening the nights as the earth turns toward winter.”
    That always struck me as unfair. At the very beginning, you shouldn’t start worrying about the end.
    Laden with dishes, I whisked back into the kitchen. Thelma had already cleaned up everything, so I surrendered the plates without protest before returning to the parlor once more.
    â€œWe can’t stay that long!” The brassy wife was still bickering with her husband as I came back.
    â€œMaybe next year.” Nana’s voice smoothed over the shrillness as Mrs. Heller stalked from the parlor. “In the meantime, if you walk into Siena Bay and visit Village Books, you’ll find a nice collection on local legends, and they’re open until nine.”
    Mr. Heller looked after his wife.
    â€œWould you believe she was a 4-H kid raising rabbits when I met her? For the first three years of our marriage, all she wanted was a farm.” He gave Nana a wistful smile. “Do you suppose she changed, or I just didn’t know the real her?”
    â€œThat’s hard to say,” Nana began and then something made me interrupt.
    â€œMy mom always says she thought she was marrying a lawyer, but he ‘grew up’ to be an author. She tells me I better be