Page 81 of Save Me
I didn’t get to Gayle’s dossier, but Belinda confirmed she’s the county commissioner and plays a key role in how Mermaid Beach grows and changes, which means Henry must be greasing this grandmother’s palms to get what he wants.
And I intend to find out exactly how.
A server sweeps past with a tray of champagnethen.
“I don’t think I should have another.” Gayle fans her face with her hand as if hot. Her cheeks are definitely rosier than they were when I cornered her.
“You shouldalwayshave another glass when it’s Cristal and you’re not paying.” I smoothly swap our glasses for two fresh ones.
“You’re right.” She accepts it with a laugh. “You’recompletelyright. But just one more. So tell me about yourself, Ronan? How do you like the area?”
“I love it. I moved to Miami a few years ago, and now I’m here, and I have to tell you, I could make this my home. I mean, look at it.” I gesture out toward the gulf ahead. The sky is dark, but Seraphina’s is lit up with torches, and the sound of the waves rolling in is unmistakable. Mix it all up with the sea air? Idyllic.
It’s not a lie—I honestly could settle down in Mermaid Beach, but that likely has more to do with a certain sea witch than the beaches or the atmosphere. Sloane’s offer of a job and a place to live isn’t a bad one. I’ve always liked working with my hands better anyway. But we’d be moving a bit fast. I mean, I’d basically be living with her.
Gayle adjusts her glasses to get a better look at me. “And where did you grow up?”
“Indiana.”
“Oh, been there once, in the winter too.” She shudders, then laughs. “My grandchildren have been begging us to take them on a ski trip, but I don’t know if I can bring myself to do it!”
“You have grandchildren? I would not have guessedthat.” I might not be adept at ass kissing, but the longer I spend in this role, the better I seem to be getting at it.
“Oh.” She chuckles, patting my arm in a matronly manner. She’s nothing like those thirsty ladies on Sloane’s tiki cruise today, the ones who looked seconds away from circling me. I’m sure Gayle would label them sinful heathens. “Aren’t you sweet. I have six.”
“Six!” I force with exaggeration—seriously, whose skin am I wearing? It’s chafing. “Tell me about them.”
“Oh, gosh, where to begin.” She gulps her champagne. “Well, there’s Noah, Jacob, and Elijah. Those are my daughter Mary’s sons. And then my son Samuel has two girls and a boy: Ruth, Joseph, and Sarah.”
“Good Christian names,” I note.
“Oh, yes.” She nods, her brow furrowed with pleasant surprise. “Henry said the very same thing.”
I’ll bet he did. He was looking for an angle in, and clearly, he found it. “And which congregation do you attend in the area?”
“Our Lady of the Pines.”
“That’s the one on …” I frown, as if struggling to search my memory, letting it dangle.
“Sugar Sand Drive, in Old Town. The big, beautiful white church with the palms on either side.”
“Right. I’ve seen it. Nice place.” If I’ve passed it, I don’t recall.
“Yes, Henry and his lovely wife are coming for service on Sunday.”
“Are they, now …” I purse my lips to suppress my smile. Abbi, I understand. She was raised in the church. Before coming to Alaska, she was set on marrying the reverend’s son in their small Pennsylvania farming community. But I doubt Henry has stepped foot in a church since he was forced to as a child, and from the snide comments I’ve caught about the institution and the people who frequent it, I’d half expect him to go up in flames when he crosses the threshold.
“Henry was telling me how his mother-in-law is a devout Christian.”
“She is that.” I met Bernadette Mitchell in Alaska for the wedding. I’ve never seen anyone spontaneously cross themselves so often and for seemingly no reason—usually, when Margo was in the room. How she came around to her daughter marrying a man she considered the devil is still a mystery, but I’ll bet it had something to do with money. It always does.
As it likely does here. “So, you’re an active member at Our Lady?”
“I’d say so.” She chuckles, as if my observation is cute. “When I’m not busy running youth groups and charities for the area. And then, of course, there’s the work I do for the school board and the advisory council, and …” She lists all her extracurricular activities, along with awards and recognitions for all her good Christian work.
I listen intently, searching for the hook Henry cast. I know him too well, and he buys his way into everything.
“You sound like a busy lady.”
