<div align="center">(http://createhdesign.files.wordpress.com/2009/06/ny_hampton_house.jpg)</div><br/>London shielded his eyes against the bright rays of the sun as he stepped out of the backseat of the cab. It was only half past ten in the morning, but already the July sun was warm. He smiled as he lifted his two light bags out of the trunk, just a small duffel with a week's worth of clothes and a backpack with some toiletries, and he paid the driver with a grin. The house stood in front of him, nearly alone on a quiet street in Brickford. The dune grass was tall around the house, giving way to a beautiful, private beach. London fished through his pocket, trying to find his key; it looked like he was the first to arrive. He inhaled the salty beach air with a grin, and set down his bags as he opened the door.