Page 57 of Just Beachy

“I was offered the job, but I had to turn it down,” I say as nonchalantly as I can.

She raises an eyebrow, and I give her the details she’s waiting for. “Bottom line, the commercial turned out to be for a chain of clinics that do breast augmentation and they wanted me to showcase mine both before and after the augmentation they expectedmeto have.”

“Goodness!” Grand says.

“Yeah.” I sigh. “And my agent agreed to all of this on my behalf without telling or warning me. Which means I’m going to have to find another agent, assuming I can even get one, given Cassie’s demise and Tonja Kay’s dislike of me.” I blink back tears. “Okay, enough about me. Dinner smells delicious. Let’s eat.”

Luke nods his agreement. “Everything smells wonderful. Here, Grand. Why don’t you let me carry the filled plates to the table.”

Minutes later we’re seated and chowing down. We stick with safe topics and chat all the way through the heavenly apple pie à la mode.

When we can’t eat another bite, I clear the table and load the dishwasher while Luke makes us espresso martinis. Once we’re all seated, we hold our martinis aloft, click rims, and toast one another.

“These are so delicious.” I smile. “I don’t know why it took so long for them to become popular.”

“Yeah, I read somewhere that they were invented by a bartender in London in the late 1880s,” Luke says. “But they only began to catch on in the US in 2022.”

“Well, I’m glad they made it ‘across the pond.’ Bottoms up!” Grand says, though she’s sipping much more slowly than Luke and I are. “And I just want to add how proud I am of the way you stood up for yourself today, Sydney. Sometimes we just have to trust our gut and do what we believe is right, even if we pay a price for it.”

“Thanks. I’m pretty sure I learned that from you.” Then I look her in the eye. “Which is why you need to tell Luke exactly what the thieves are after and why.”

“But I don’t think—”

“No, Grand,” I cut her off. “No more evading and pretending. We’re relying on Luke to protect you. You need to tell him what’s going on so that he can do that. And you need to do itnow.”

Grand begins to shake her head. “It’s not a good idea. I don’t want—”

“AndIdon’t think you’re thinking about anyone but yourself right now,” Luke interrupts. “Simply because she’s living with you, Sydney’s at risk, too. And I can’t believethat keeping this secret is more important than your granddaughter’s life.”

“But I never meant—” Grand begins.

“It doesn’t matter what your intentions were or are. If you don’t tell me exactly what’s going on, I have zero chance of protecting either of you.”

Twenty-Seven

After Luke leaves, I makesure all the doors and sliders are locked then I arm the alarm system. Tired and emotionally drained, I spend a lot of the night tossing and turning, planning exactly what I’m going to say to Martin when I tell him off and fire him, while listening for an intruder.

I don’t get much sleep, but I wake to the heavenly aroma of freshly brewed coffee. When I open my eyes, rays of sunshine slat through the shutters. Throwing off the covers, I stretch and yawn, then make a quick pit stop in the bathroom before heading down to the kitchen. There, Grand places a mug of coffee in my hands and motions me toward a barstool at the counter.

“Scrambled or over easy?” she asks as I practically inhale those first lovely sips.

“Scrambled.”

“With spinach or feta?”

“Both.”

“Bagel or whole wheat toast?”

“Hmmmm…toast. With lots of butter.”

“Done!”

I start to stand to help, but Grand waves me back into my seat. Then she heads to the refrigerator and starts pulling out ingredients.

I stare out the open kitchen window. The blue sky is still streaked with wispy white clouds. A light breeze stirs the palms bracketing the cobblestone street that stretches between two rows of pastel town houses.

“God, it’s beautiful here,” I say.

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