Page 28 of Summer Tease
“How are the preparations for the house sale going?” Beau asks as we make our way through the high-back chairs scattered around the lobby.
“Slowly. Grams insisted on using Eugene as her realtor.”
Beau sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. “Oof. Did Vivian say no?”
I snort as we turn down a long hallway. “As if Grams would give her the chance. She was convinced Vivian would list the house low on purpose.”
“And cut into her own commission?”
“Or price it too high so it wouldn’t sell,” I counter.
“And risk not getting a commission at all?”
“Hey, don’t ask me to try to fathom the mind of a Palmerite.”
Beau steals a glance at me, his mouth quirked up at one edge. “Palmerite, huh? What are we, the Hatfields and McCoys?”
“No. They made up in the end.”
“So did we.” He bumps me with his elbow. “We work together now.”
“For an hour and a half. And it’s notworking together. I’m consulting. Besides, it’s not just the Sawyers and Palmers who have to make up. A whole island of people have been invested in the drama, and more than half of them are probably waiting anxiously for Grams’s house to sell.”
“Of course they’re invested in who the newest residents will be.”
“The island is also invested in what kind of cereal their neighbors buy, so…”
“Corn Pops,” he whispers. “I buy Corn Pops.”
I shoot an unamused glance at him as we reach the west lawn, even though I’m secretly a little amused. Two dozen chairs are spaced at even intervals across the lawn, each one hosting a senior doing modified yoga poses.
“What’shedoing here?” Grams grouses, using her chin to point at Beau when we reach her chair.
He grins at her like there’s nothing in the world she could say to dim that smile of his.
I make my way to her, lean over and kiss her wrinkly cheek. “Apparently, your new home is dangerous enough I need a police escort, Grams.”
“She didn’t know where the west lawn was,” Beau explains, “and part of my job is helping the tourists.”
“I’m not a tourist,” I protest.
Beau raises his brows. “And how wouldyoudescribe your relationship to Sunset Harbor?”
I flatten my lips. “Complicated. Why aren’t you participating, Grams?”
Grams shifts in her seat and adjusts the light cardigan draped over her shoulders, but she doesn’t say anything.
I look to Deedee, who’s finishing up a forward fold pose. “She tripped on the grass yesterday trying to get a better view of Dax Miller in his shop. Shirtless.”
“Traitor,” Grams mutters at her friend.
“Jeez, are you okay?” I ask, feeling sick at the thought of her sprawled on the grass. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I’m fine,” she barks.
Deedee shakes her head subtly at me, and Grams smacks her arm lightly as Deedee starts into the cat/cow position.
“My knee has given me trouble for years,” Grams says, putting a hand on it and rubbing it fiercely. She winces.
