Summer plans were going lousy, Mike thought as he lay in bed gazing at the clock and wishing he was anywhere else but his grandma's summer cottage on the beach. Another day of picking green beans and helping Grandma make her famous pickled dilly green beans. His fingers were cramped from shoving beans into glass jars and topping them with a spicy vinegar solution.

Grandma peeked in the bedroom door, "Time to get up Mike. Today, no bean picking, we have a special trip to make,” she said.

Right, thought Mike, to the supermarket for more vinegar.

"We're walking to the island this morning,” she said.

"You can't walk to the island, grandma." Mike said, thinking grandma had breathed in too many vinegar fumes yesterday.

"Today, we can." she said and pulled open the curtain. It was low tide and Mike could clearly see a path to the island. "Rumor has it, the island is haunted and there is buried treasure there too. It’s an isthmus. You know what that means? It means it’s only accessible when it’s low tide, let’s go!”

“Are there any beans on the island?” Mike asked.

“No beans.” Grandma said.

The summer was looking up.

© 2007 Pat Kennelly. Original for CCF (Kennelly grants CCF first electronic rights for one month; CCF may archive the material indefinitely and include it in an eBook anthology).