Henry Carter Hull

Behind every cottage door is a liar. Look past the tended lawns and screened windows open to the sea breeze and dusky porch lights shining on waning summer nights. And listen closely. Are those whispers of swaying marsh grasses? Or hushed secrets floating in the salt air? Walking the sandy roads, it's hard to tell. There. There's the imposing Barlow cottage on the bluff. Elsa's shingled inn by the sea. The Fenwicks' last-standing cottage on the sand....

Dune grasses sway atop the Barlows' craggy bluff. Hidden past a narrow path there is a rickety stairway going down, down, down to the sea. Even in its neglect, the stairway is beautiful, with its sweeping views of Long Island Sound. Depending on the tides, those stairs lead to a tiny secluded beach. But for years, the stairs have been nearly forgotten. Until now. Until this stairway descending a steep sandy embankment becomes a life ring for the...