Page 8 of Shifting Sands

I shake my head as I read the notes, which echo the meticulous instructions she emailed me. The woman may be somewhat neurotic, but it makes her a hell of a GM.

After I’ve cleared the space, I review the liquor order that Audrey left and send it to the distributor. I also adjust the week’s schedule to accommodate Leena’s absence. Finally, after deciphering Willis’s handwriting, I send a list of parts to order to my executive assistant in Charlotte.

I let out a sigh and lean back in the soft leather chair as I turn off my computer. It’s going to be a long two weeks, but I’m actually looking forward to rolling up my sleeves and working behind the bar like I did in college. No suit. No tie. No Ferragamo loafers. Just my comfortable jeans and the worn-out pair of Nikes that have seen more than their fair share of spilled beer and broken glass.

Brandee

Istand on the porch while my friends Erin and Jena unload their suitcases. I’m excited to have them here for the long weekend.

“Are you just going to stand there and watch?” Erin asks as she pulls out another bag and sets it down next to the others.

I walk over to grab the smallest one. “Jeez, are you moving in or what? I didn’t bring this much luggage, and I’m staying for two months, you lunatics.”

“They’re all Jena’s, except for this one,” Erin says as she tosses a large duffel bag over her shoulder.

Jena shrugs and replies, “It’s the coast. I needed a bag for swimsuits, cover-ups, sun hats, and other provisions. Plus, I wasn’t sure how to dress, so I brought a little bit of everything.”

“We’re not going to be sunbathing and swimming in the ocean,” I say as I lead them to the house.

Jena’s mouth turns into a pout. “We’re not? Well, that sucks.”

“It’s November, and we’re on the coast of North Carolina, not the Caribbean,” Erin points out.

“Boo. I wanted some beach time. I haven’t seen the ocean in forever,” Jena mumbles.

“We can still go sit on the beach or the pier and enjoy the ocean. We’ll just be in leggings and sweatshirts,” I offer.

“I guess that’ll have to do,” she says.

Once we’re inside, I show them to the guest room. Earlier, I moved my belongings to Aunt Ida’s room in preparation for their arrival.

“There’s only one bathroom, and it’s across the hall,” I explain, pointing to the door. “The towels are in here,” I add, tapping the door of the linen closet.

Jena stops in the living room when she spots the cats watching us curiously. “And who do we have here?”

“Meet Snowflake and Felix,” I reply.

Snowflake stretches lazily on the arm of the couch. She lifts her head, gives a slow blink, and pads over, tail elegantly swishing behind her.

“She’s the semi-friendly one,” I say, kneeling down to scratch behind her ears. “She’s still upset her mom left but she’s coming around. She loves attention—as long as it’s on her terms.”

Erin crouches beside me. “She’s so pretty.”

“Yeah, she knows it.” I laugh. “Total diva.”

Then I point at the armchair in the corner. Felix sits perched like a moody prince, his golden eyes narrowed like we’ve insulted him just by breathing.

“And that,” I say, lowering my voice, “is Felix. He tolerates me. Barely.”

Jena waves cautiously. Felix flicks his tail once, unimpressed.

“He looks like he’s judging us,” Erin whispers.

“He is.”

They both laugh. Snowflake twirls between our legs, purring.

“Don’t be fooled though,” I add, glancing back at Felix. “He acts tough, but his affection can be temporarily purchased with treats.” I lead them to the kitchen. “Lemonade?”

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