by MARY KAY ANDREWS photos ROB BRINSON styling ANNETTE JOSEPH produced by LISA MOWRYZ

TH

E N D IN G FOR A FIXER-

KAY A N D R E W S PENS A HAPPY

COAST.

DREAMS

Mary Kay Andrews is the author of

seven novels—including her latest,

The Fixer U p p er

—and a lifelong flea

market junkie. She lives in Atlanta

but escapes to Tybee Island, Georgia,

to relax and write.

M y husband, Tom, and I had dreamed of having a beach house for

years, since leaving our hometown on Florida’s Gulf Coast three

decades ago. But w e put it on hold as w e built our careers and raised

and educated our two children. As time went on, though, our dream

took shape. W e didn’t need anything grand, just a cozy little cottage

for gathering friends and family.

Eventually, our search narrowed to Tybee Island, on Georgia’s

coast. W hy Tybee? For one thing, w e had a history w ith the place.

W e’d moved to nearby Savannah as

22

-year-old newlyweds, and then

again after my husband graduated from engineering school. Our

daughter, Katie, was born in Savannah, and somewhere I have a

snapshot of her dozing in her infant seat, under the shade of a lounge

chair on the beach at Tybee. I’d even set one of my novels,

S avannah

Breeze,

on Tybee. And then there’s location. W e can sling a suitcase

and some fishing rods into our car in Atlanta and be crossing over the

hump-backed Lazaretto Creek Bridge in four hours. Ten minutes

later, after a stop for Georgia-caught brown shrimp at Bowie’s

Seafood, or steaks at The Tybee Market, w e can have the fixings for

dinner. On Fridays, if w e sneak away from Atlanta early enough, Tom

can make it out on his boat before dark, casting for redfish, flounder,

and sea trout in the tidal creeks and ocean sounds. But there’s more

to it than that. Tybee is a ’

50

s throwback, a frankly funky, deliberately

dowdy beach town of infinite charm, at least to us. There is no place

on Tybee you can’t easily reach on foot or by bike, no restaurant

demanding attire more formal than flip-flops and a clean pair of

shorts. It’s a place to “chillax,” as our son would say.

Opposite, clockwise from top left:

A junk-shop catch hangs in the living room.

A vintage typewriter on Mary Kay’s desk. The Atlantic is just a short stroll away.

Fresh-caught blue crab. New paint juices up an old hall tree. Fishing gear awaits

eager anglers. Dolphins frolic in nearby Turner Creek. Mary Kay’s bright book

jackets match her decor. Son Andy and nephew Zack Trocheck tote drinks.

3 6

JUNE 2010

BETTER HOMES AND GARDENS