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Summary
Robin walked up the quiet little street on the other side of the lot, and sure enough the house was right where it was supposed to be, and there were a lot of seashells on the porch but she picked up the only one that looked like it might be able to hold a key, a big spiral-y snaily kind of shell, and she heard the telltale rattle of something in there, and when she dumped the single brass key out into her hand it was warm.
From the porch here she could see the ocean just over a little concrete wall where the street ended, not more than a few houses away. Prime real estate, she guessed.
or
Beach vacation but make it sad.