Page 81 of Gulfside Girls
“I know. I know. You made that house. But look, here’s how you shut him up. He gets the house. You get your little inheritance from Dad to live on, and we bet on our future with this place.”
Ali nodded in agreement. She stood up and started to walk back and forth in the little cottage. Faye could see the wheels turning in her sister’s brain.
“Right, okay, yes, I need to talk to my lawyer, Ted needs to sign off. And he needs to know I’m not kidding around.”
“Ted’s hooks have to be out of this place, so you don’t have him influencing you or profiting from you. However it shakes out.”
Ali stopped and looked at Faye. “What about Blair? She needs to be okay with this.”
Faye stood up and put her hands on Ali’s shoulders.
“Leave Blair to me. I’ll get her to sign off. We all three own the place, but you’re the boss. She knows that. And she owes you the life she had, just like I do. I can’t imagine a better mom than you. And neither can Blair.”
Ali sucked in a ragged breath at those words.
“I could never be Mom,” she whispered.
“You never needed to be; you were better. I know,” Faye said.
The two sisters hugged it out. Faye didn’t remember much, but she did remember a mother who had “headaches” and forgot things and a big sister who never did. Not once.
Faye would make a phone call in the morning to get Blair on board. She wasn’t sure how hard that would be. But it didn’t matter. The two little sisters were doing this for their big sister.
Period.
And they were doing this to Ted. Which was equally as motivating.
Once Ali had made up her mind to stay, it was hard not to love watching her plan.
“We need the pool fixed first, and then, what about mid-century modern for the Inn, like lean into it? We could create such a lovely experience here that won’t break the bank. I just really love the idea of keeping part of the beach, this place, for people like us who aren’t billionaires. You know?”
Ali was on fire, and Faye found joy in helping to make that happen.
Now, to handle Blair, and her life back in Toledo.
Her time in Sea Turtle was amazing, but her life wasn’t on Haven Beach. It was back up north.
Thirty-Three
Ali
The Mangrove County offices were in a pink stucco building.
Pink. Okay then.
Ali thought back to her hometown. Toledo had a reputation as a rust belt town. As something less than, maybe, even the punchline to a joke. But that was wrong. Toledo was vibrant and beautiful, and its downtown along the waterfront sparkled. She was proud to change minds on The Glass City every time she booked an event for Frogtown.
Her own neighborhood celebrated the architecture of a bygone era. She was used to older neighborhoods and buildings sitting side by side with newer ones. Toledo was like that.
Ali realized that she’d been up and down the beach in several towns, and it was mostly new. She didn’t see the old and historic. Was it hurricanes? Or was it just that this part of Florida wasn’t settled until later? She wondered. The good news was she also didn’t see gray slush on the sidewalk, so there was that.
This building, with its pink stucco, couldn’t be more of a contrast to county offices in Toledo. But inside, well, inside, itcouldn’t be more the same. Counters, cubicles, and the maze of slow-moving red tape. That was also part of her job in Toledo, navigating it to get the approvals she needed to get her things done.
Ali visited a clerk’s window and made her inquiry.
“Hello, I’m looking for the history of a property on Gulf Boulevard.”
The clerk, a curvy woman with a floral blouse and the ability to raise a single eyebrow at Ali, removed her readers. They were draped around her neck on a crystal chain. “Address?”
