“Let’s ask the guard what the theme is.” Josie looked up at the handsome young man sitting high above them in the lifeguard’s chair.
“Good idea.”
“I’ll do it. You look so nice and relaxed.” Without waiting for an answer, Josie trotted off. A few minutes later she was back.
“Well, what is it?” Sam asked.
“What I did on my summer vacation,” she answered, gathering together towels, suntan lotion, and reading materials.
“Where are you going?”
“The lifeguard recognized me. Those guys have walkietalkies and they communicate with one another. There’s a rumor going around that Tyler’s sandcastle is one of the best. The judging is done. He thought maybe Tyler and his friend had won a prize.”
Sam stood. “Let’s get going. I always enjoy seeing your son win awards.”
The Annual Lifeguards’ Benefit Sand Sculpture Contest had attracted entrants along almost three miles, and Josie and Sam had walked for almost an hour before they found Tyler.
From the time he was two years old, her son had thrived on attention, so Josie wasn’t surprised to discover that his sculpture had attracted a crowd. She just wished it would part and let her see what he had done.
Sam, tall enough to peer over some of the spectators’ heads, reported that Tyler had won an award. “Most creative,” he announced.
“That sounds like Tyler. But, Sam, what is it?”
He was laughing so hard, he couldn’t answer.
Josie decided motherhood had some privileges and she pushed her way through the crowd. And stopped dead when she saw what her son had done.
“What the-”
“Mom! Hi, Mom! What do you think?”
Her son was jumping up and down, his red hair gleaming in the sunlight, the smile on his face almost irresistible.
“What do you think?” he repeated.
Josie looked at the sand sculpture. The sand had been piled up and carved into an intricate sculpture representing the healthy way her son had spent his summer vacation: with a television set complete with a remote control and a pile of current videos.
“What do you think?” he asked a third time.
“I think I’m glad you’re such a creative person. And that I’ll miss you when you go back to school.”
His response astonished her. In front of his friends and neighbors on the island, Tyler Clay Pigeon reached out and gave his mother a big, sandy hug.
Both of them blushed to the roots of their bushy red hair.
“Great! Cut! Did you get that on tape?”
“What the hell?” Josie pulled away from her son. “What are you doing here?” she asked, astonished to find Bobby Valentine in the front of the crowd, a cameraman on one side, a young lady carrying lights and reflectors on the other.
“Working on a new show. Beaches of the world. Actually, it’s going to be a series of ten shows and the first is going to feature this contest. I can see it now. We open with a shot of the sand television screen Tyler made. We’ll run our credits across it. It’ll look great!”
“That’s a good idea,” admitted Sam, who had joined them. “This will be the first show in the series?”
“Sure will. We’re starting filming in the north…”
“And traveling south as the weather gets colder,” Josie said.
“Yeah.” Bobby Valentine looked surprised. “How did you guess?”
“I’ve spent a little time around people in television,” she answered, a big grin on her face.
Valerie Wolzien
![This Old Murder pic_2.jpg](https://litlife.club/books/127979/read/images/pic_2.jpg)
![This Old Murder pic_3.jpg](https://litlife.club/books/127979/read/images/pic_3.jpg)