Page 41 of Sunset Tides
Rob’s oyster shell hit his plate with a loud clatter. “Sorry,” he murmured, grabbing it quickly.
He then tried to poke the fleshy innards with a spoon, only for it to fall to his plate with a splat.
Lucy couldn’t stop staring. It was like a car crash in slow motion – an oyster crash. His cheeks actually flushed pink as he tried to scoop the slimy bugger without using anything but a spoon.
How long had he been struggling with that one oyster? Lucy felt sorry for him for a moment. He looked like an overgrown child trying to get food into his mouth.
“You really just want to dislodge them and then sip them out,” she said. “Once one gets away, it can be hard to chase it.”
“I’m seeing that,” he said with a laugh. He finally stabbed the oyster with a fork and got it safely into his mouth. “I’m not big on seafood.”
She nodded. “That does make island living tough.”
“Ha, yeah.” He flashed a smile. “Has your mom always been in the hotel business?”
Lucy took another sip of wine only to notice her glass was empty. That had gone down quickly. “No. This is all new for her. She used to be a paralegal.”
“So she shares your love of job hopping?”
Lucy snickered. The thought of sensible Claire erratically moving from job to job was unimaginable. “No, Claire is far too levelheaded for that.”
“That’s still quite a jump.”
“It is.” Lucy paused. She didn’t mean to make them both seem incapable of holding down a job. Claire could keep a job, at least. The jury was still out for Lucy. “It’s a crazy story of how she got here.”
Another oyster escaped him.
How had this rich kid eaten so few oysters in his life? Did he make his history up? Had his strict dad made him live on oatmeal and eggs until he was eighteen or something?
That would make a lot of sense, actually.
Rob cleared his throat. “Did you fundraise for her, too?”
“No.” Lucy took a deep breath and forced a solemn look onto her face. “It all started when I was four.”
“When you were four?” He set his spoon down, apparently abandoning his efforts to eat any more oysters.
She nodded. “My parents died in a plane crash that year.”
His eyes widened, and his mouth briefly popped open. “Wow, I’m sorry.”
Lucy flashed a look at Lillian, safely at the other end of the table. That wasn’t nice of her to drop onto him, and she knew it.
“It’s fine. It was a long time ago. My mom, Claire’s sister Holly, died in the crash.” Lucy paused. This story had only gotten more complicated in the last year. “We thought Claire’s twin sister Becca died in the crash, too, but she didn’t.”
He opened his mouth, but stopped himself.
“What?” she asked.
“I can’t tell if you’re pulling my leg.”
Lucy laughed. That was the price of her sarcasm. “I’m not.”
She took a swig of water and told him the rest of the story – her uncle’s inheritance going to Claire, buying the hotel, Marty showing up with the FBI on his tail, and Aunt Becca being discovered. All of it.
When she was done, she sat back and studied him.
Or at least, she tried to. His expression was unreadable. He could have been doing a crossword puzzle or listening toElmo’s Songon loop.
