Page 41 of Just Beachy

“But she met a lot of new people right around the same time,” I point out.

“Yeah, but something about him felt a little too good to be true.”

“So it was your Spidey sense?”

“Well, given what I do for a living, my Spidey senses are pretty highly developed and I’ve learned to trust them.”

“Yeah, well, I have a tendency to rely on Google,” I say as I hold up my phone. “And it turns out Brian does, or did, have a connection to the New York art sceneandPhillip Drake that he’s been keeping to himself.”

“Interesting. And what is that connection?”

“Brian’s wife, Camille, owned a successful Manhattan gallery back in the day. Before she died, she mounted two early shows of Phillip Drake’s work. And according to gossip at the time, she had a rather torrid affair with him.”

Twenty

On Friday afternoon when Grand,Myra, and I arrive at the grand opening of the Historic YMCA, now officially Mediterranean Place, we’re shown up to a first-floor covered balcony, where William Hightower and his band are crushing their greatest hits as invited guests sing along.

Fans not lucky enough to score an invitation do the same from the slice of sidewalk below.

We greet Maddie and Bitsy and Chase and Avery and flash big grins on cue when Troy’s video camera turns in our direction then slowly pans across our faces.

“You remember John and Renee Franklin,” Maddie says, reintroducing me to the Realtor who originally handed over Bella Flora to Maddie, Avery, and Nikki when it was all they had left after being victims of Malcolm Dyer’s Ponzi scheme. It was John’s wife, Renee, longtime president of the Pass-a-Grille Garden Club, who made sure thatBella Flora’s grounds were also brought back to their original 1920s glory.

“Wow, they did a great job of honoring the YMCA’s original Mediterranean architecture while still providing modern amenities.”

“They sure did,” Renee agrees. “Wait till you see the condos on the top floor.”

John has Realtors on-site to show the condos and retail spaces that are still available.

Joe Giraldi, FBI agent and Nikki’s husband, holds each of their twin girls by the hand as they jump up and down to the music. Luvvie rocks out to the music beside them.

Maddie’s ex-husband, Steve, is there helping to keep an eye on their grandchild, Dustin.

William steps closer to the mic, and after a wink and a smile at the little ones present, he begins to pick out the opening notes of what turns out to be a rock ’n’ roll version of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” on his guitar.

“This is so awesome,” Myra says when the band joins in and the little ones throw themselves into twirling and giggling. “I came here intending to steal every idea worth stealing. Do you think we can ask Maddie to convince William to come back to play at Sandcastle Books’ grand opening?”

“Definitely.” I laugh as the kids whirl and twirl with glee. “But I don’t see any reason we can’t ask him ourselves.”

It’s at that moment that I feel eyes on me, and without looking, I know that Luke is nearby. I haven’t seen him since I spent the night at his place last weekend, but thenwe haven’t had a break-in, either. Or maybe the sex didn’t rock his world like it did mine.

“Hi.” I smile.

“Hi.” Luke smiles back, but suddenly I’m wondering whether his smile is strained. Or maybe it’s filled with regret?

Oh my God, this is more awkward than waking up in the morning next to a stranger. Not that I’ve done that more than once. Or possibly twice.

I give myself a mental kick and remind myself that I am no longer the teenage girl who thought he’d hung the moon and stars. I am a full-grown, attractive, intelligent woman. I’m also a damn fine actress. And even if no one will cast me, it’s time I use those skills to act like one.

My chin goes up and I plant what I hope is a completely confident smile on my face. And yet I’m not at all prepared when he flashes his knee-jellying smile, pulls me against him, and drops a kiss on the top of my head.

There are raised eyebrows. Grand pumps one fist into the air. My cheeks heat briefly with embarrassment, but I don’t brush off his arm that wraps around my shoulders or even consider pulling away. Because a large part of that heat is caused by happiness that he is clearly as glad to see me as I am to see him.

Kyra joins us, and being the friend that she is, she doesn’t raise an eyebrow or make a single unwelcome observation.

Instead, she leans close and whispers, “Later tonight there’s a private celebration at Bella Flora. Mom and Bitsy really want you both to come.”

“It’s Friday,” I point out. “I have to be at Harley’s tonight.”

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