“Oh … oh.” She nodded. “I’m sorry.”
He pulled away from her, folded a fist onto the island, and looked up at the ceiling, as if searching for a way to rope in the tumult of feelings rumbling through his head. “What am I thinking? Anne doesn’t care about this now. She’s happy. I know she is. And she’s well now, too. Finally.” He hung his head, shaking it fiercely now, and expelled a groan. “She doesn’t care about a stupid house.”
Liddy didn’t know what to say. A battery of advice paralyzed her … the kind warning people about uttering the wrong words to those who grieved. She knew he was right, that heaven was far better than anything humans could hope for on earth. But was it her place to say that?
Part of her wanted only to reach for his hand and tell him that she believed Anne would be happy for him. But Liddy kept that close to her heart, too. She contemplated whether to deflect the moment and give the veggies a quick stir or to lightly kiss his cheek.
Beau didn’t wait. He cradled her waist with his hands and pulled her close, crushing himself against her. “What you must think of me …” he whispered into her hair again, his voice thick with tears, some shed, some that never would be.
Her mind fled back to her week at the hospital. All those roommates, some hopeful, some resigned, all emotional. And the men who fussed over them, their aged bodies moving from chore to chore in an effort to keep themselves from folding under the relentless pressures of time and diagnoses. She swallowed against the memories, a sharpness deep in her throat.
What had happened to those women? To Bonnie? And Marie? And Cissy and Elizabeth? She wished she had attempted to stay in touch with each one of them.
With their faces and their stories rolling through her mind, Liddy held on tighter to Beau, telling him with her touch what she couldn’t seem to find the words to say out loud.
Beau pulled away from her and peered into her face. “You asked me a few minutes ago if I was happy.” He rubbed her arms up and down with an intensity that matched his emotions. “I want you to know that I am, Liddy. There are just some things that are going to take a while to overcome.”
She nodded, fully aware that he had one foot in this relationship while the other one hovered above the ground unsure of where to firmly land. The thought created an ache in her chest. And yet, her own unfathomable experiences had brought her an understanding of sorts. If she had not faced her own brush with death recently, would she have been able to accept where he found himself at this moment?
Liddy leaned forward to give him that kiss on the check. “That’s to be expected.” She took his cheeks in her hands then, her smile pushing back her own tears. “Ready to have dinner with me?”
He found her lips and kissed her fiercely. Then he wrapped her in a hug. “Always.”
Chapter 18
The sea blue Michael Kors bag slung over Trace’s shoulder shifted, and she winced while carefully setting it on the concierge counter. Despite her care, it landed with a heavy thud.
Liddy leaned her head to one side. “What’s inside … day-old bagels?”
“Ha. You wish. No, my friend, inside here is an old-fashioned library.”
“Library … you mean books?”
Trace blinked. “You’ve heard of them?”
She played along. “Vaguely.”
“Well, phew. I was worried for a second that you’d forgotten all about them. E-readers just don’t have the wonderful ol’ smell of paper, and they definitely don’t have covers on them that show just how loved they are.”
“Or aren’t.”
Trace stuck out her tongue, but the mischief in her eyes betrayed her. “Ha ha ha,” she finally said.
“Trace, you are an old soul. So … what are the books for?”
She shrugged. “There’s been so much talk about upgrading the inn, I don’t know, I thought maybe I could put some books on those empty shelves in the lobby. I could create a little sign encouraging guests to take a book to the pool or their room during their stay.”
Liddy nodded. “I like it.”
Trace straightened. “You do?”
“Guests first. Isn’t that what management is always saying?”
Meg strode through the lobby for the second time, her brown hair brushed smooth, every loam-colored strand neatly clinging to the one next to it. Determination set her mouth and lined her forehead.
“Meg.”
The sales dervish stopped abruptly at the sound of her friend’s voice, and made her way to the concierge desk. She raised an eyebrow at Liddy as if to ask, Why are you bothering me right now?
She considered pointing out Trace’s bag full of reading material, but the intense set to her friend’s jaw made her think better of it. Instead she asked, “Lunch today?”
Meg shook her head tightly. “I doubt I’ll have time. Meetings all day. A proposal to get to a client.” She pushed out an exasperated sigh and surveyed the lobby, allowing her eyes to settle somewhere north. “For heaven’s sake, when was the last time anyone cleaned those windows?”
“Probably last time it rained.”
“Well,” Meg huffed, “that’s a problem.”
Liddy opened her mouth to suggest her pal take a break when, as if in slow motion and in choreographed sync, the entire valet and bell staff straightened. Shoulders back. Hands at sides. Eyes forward.
Jackson Riley entered through the sliding entrance doors wearing a suit the color of silver ice, a bright blue tie, and an air of royalty. He approached the bell desk and shook Hannah’s hand, his smile a unique combination of warm and winning. It occurred to Liddy that Jackson had the enviable ability to charm anyone and everyone around him. And yet she herself felt less than charmed. No doubt his skill boosted his business holdings, but from what she had heard about the way he’d brushed off Meg, his personal life likely suffered from such superficiality.
At least she hoped it had.
Not that she cared.
Beside her, Trace sighed. “He’s lovely.”
Liddy watched in dismay as Meg’s chiseled expression melted like pudding in the sun. She leaned forward and hissed, “Meg.”
Her friend’s right eye twitched, then she looked toward Liddy, those curvaceous brows of hers knit together in an impatient question.
Before Liddy could say another word, Jackson zeroed in on their band of three and marched toward the desk, his face now a mask of professionalism.
“Good morning, ladies,” he said.
He gave them all a look in turn, but did anyone else notice that his gaze lingered ever so slightly on Meg’s?
Jackson squared his body with Meg’s. “I trust you will be joining us at noon.”
An expression equivalent to wheels slowly spinning appeared on Meg’s delicate face, but only for a moment. “Noon, yes. I’ll be there.”
“Plan to work over lunch,” he added.
“Of course.”
He flashed that white smile again, this time at all three of them. “Good day, ladies,” he said, then headed for the office corridor.
So much for calming Meg’s nerves at lunch. Perhaps it was selfish, but Liddy had also hoped to get her friend’s input on how she was feeling lately. Plus there was the issue of Beau’s confusion from last night that created in her a need for a sounding board …
Meg righted her shoulders and began to walk away, but Trace’s voice stopped her.
“Wondering if you ladies would like to grab sushi with me tonight.”
Meg opened her mouth quickly, as if to refuse, when something like resolve softened her eyes. “I would love that, Trace. Lid? Can you make it?”
Between climbing herself out of a monetary hole her divorce had created, and the brain surgery that had set her back for several months, Liddy relished the idea of a girls’ night. So sushi wasn’t her favorite? Relaxing with friends somehow made the thought of downing a California roll worth it.
She smiled. “I’m in.”
* * *
“Take
these sushi rolls,” Trace said, holding up a hunk of seaweed-wrapped fish and veggies. “Usually I prefer to buy mine at Costco, but for special occasions like this, I’m willing to shell out a little more for the same food.”
Liddy shook her head and laughed. “Shell out. Good one.”
She wagged her fork toward Liddy. “You know what I mean.”
This time Meg cut in. “You really think that the raw fish at a big box store is as fresh as this?” The platter in front of them displayed more tantalizing colors than a rainbow.
Trace shrugged. “Hope so. Anyway, we’re paying for the ambiance of the place.”
They shared a small table and a tokkuri of saki in the darkened lounge of Sushi Love, a trendy restaurant at the tail end of the lineup of beachside eateries. Low background music with just enough base volume gave diners the impression that the outrageous menu prices were worth it. When Meg suggested the upscale place, Liddy expected Trace to balk. Surprisingly, she agreed. A good thing, too. They had survived several days with the big boss in town, and by the expressions of relief flittering across the ragtag group’s faces—and in Liddy’s heart—they needed this break.
Besides, maybe here, away from the inn, Meg would feel more comfortable about filling them in on her discussions with Jackson. At least the professional ones.
Meg interrupted Liddy’s thoughts by pointing to Trace’s MK purse. “You’re full of all kinds of surprises these days. That’s gorgeous.”
Trace’s brows rose. “I bought it at the outlet, and just so you know, that fact doesn’t make me feel worse about this bag.”
“Well, now I do,” Meg quipped.
The group erupted in laughter.
“Hate to bring up shop talk, but since we’re all together, what kinds of changes should we be expecting at the inn?”
Meg sat back, a wry smile curling her lips upward. “Lots and lots of upgrades. More green, more luxe, an addition that will take advantage of our spectacular views without blocking the neighbors much … we’ll be the jewel on the coast, and it’s about time. Riley Holdings has the funding, and my clients have been begging for a destination spot—not just a hotel with a pretty view.”
Liddy nodded. “It’s good to see you smiling.”
“Thanks. It’s been … it’s been a trying week so far.”
Liddy knew her friend was choosing her words judiciously. They both loved Trace, but no sense saying more than was necessary—especially about a personal relationship that fizzled before it had a chance. She hated that Meg was forced to come face to face with that fact this week—and likely, again in the future.
“So,” Meg said, segueing from all things Riley, “you haven’t said much tonight, Liddy. How are you and Beau doing?”
“Great. We had dinner last night. He … well, he put an offer in on a house and we made it a celebration.” And really, they had. Why bring up his misgivings?
Trace frowned for the first time all day. “He bought a house without you?”
“He asked my opinion, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Trace waggled her head back and forth, like a scale weighing fruit. “I guess that’s good, but I don’t know, I would’ve thought he’d wait until you two were, you know, married to make such a big decision.”
Meg set down her fork. “For heaven’s sake, don’t rush them. They barely know each other.” Her protector, the friend who knew how hard she’d taken the failure of her marriage, rushed to her aid … unnecessarily, but still.
“Shush, both of you,” Liddy said. “His accountant told him he needs to buy a house, so he’s doing so. I just wish it was closer to me, but I’ll survive.”
Trace speared another silver dollar-sized piece of sushi. “If you say so.”
“Exactly how far away is the house?” Meg asked.
Liddy wrinkled her nose. “Inland. About three miles.”
Meg leaned forward and cracked up. “You’re just mad he didn’t buy a house on the sand!”
“Ha ha ha. Whatever.”
Trace snickered and gave her a big-eyed, fake pout. “You know it’s true, Liddy.”
The smiles continued as they teased each other even while splitting the bill three ways “down to the penny,” as Trace put it.
Meg led the way toward the exit just as someone from the outside held the door open. She stepped forward, and stopped, nearly causing a Three Stooges-like accident from behind.
“Good evening, Meg.” Jackson held the door open, a willowy Photoshopped woman grazing his other arm.
Okay, maybe she just knew how to apply makeup. Or had stopped at a Mac counter on the way to the restaurant.
Whatever.
To her credit, Meg breezed through the doorway as if completely unaffected by the woman—large-bosomed and pretty, if one liked that sort of thing—standing close enough to Jackson that he no doubt could call her Gucci perfume his own.
* * *
Beau called her late that night. “Tell me about your evening without me,” he said.
She smirked. “Jealous?”
“Something like that. Unless this is a case of what happened at the sushi bar, stays in the sushi bar?”
Liddy lay on the bed and rolled over, phone pressed against her ear. The knotholes in the ceiling’s rafters stared down at her. “You are a funny man.”
“I missed seeing you today.”
“Same.”
“And … you’re feeling okay?”
Why did he sound so unsure?
Then again, there has been the dizziness …
Silence sat between them like an expectant lover. Finally, she said, “I feel fine. And I had a good time with the girls tonight, except …”
“Except?”
She sighed. “All was well until we were walking out and ran into Meg’s ex with a centerfold model.”
Beau whistled into the phone.
“Excuse me?”
“What? No, I was just thinking.”
“And I don’t even want to know what you were thinking!”
He chuckled, then quieted. “That must’ve been hard for Meg. How did she handle it?”
“I think she was just, you know, so shocked. All the way to the car she kept saying, ‘He doesn’t even like fish.’ Of all the restaurants in town, I don’t think she imagined Jackson showing up there.” She let out a growl. “I, for one, wanted to smack that debonair face of his.”
“Liddy … don’t tell me you pummeled the guy and lost your job.”
“I wish I had. It’s not like me to take so long to act!”
“Well, in this case, I’d say your delay saved you.”
“Maybe.” She blew out a breath and stroked a hand across her forehead. “Poor Meg. She showed plenty of bravado, but I shudder to think how she really felt. Unfortunately, Trace had left her car at the hotel, so I had to drive her back. Never really had a chance to parse it all out with her, and by the time I got home she had already turned off her cell.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“If my clock is correct, you arrived home pretty late.”
“Yeah …?”
“Sounds like you ate a lot of sushi.”
“Yes, well, what was that you said? That what happens at sushi, stays at sushi?”
“Liddy…?” He said it like Ricky Ricardo in an old episode of I Love Lucy.
Blast her for staying up so late watching Nick at Night … “Okay, fine. We stopped in at the hotel restaurant and took a seat at the bar—I didn’t drink any more alcohol, in case you were wondering.”
“I was, but go on.”
“I texted Meg, but she didn’t answer, but then the funniest thing happened. A group of people were carrying on at one end of the bar over the tapas. They looked familiar. Anyway, Chef was there, serving them all sorts of things I hadn’t remembered being on the menu.”
“Sounds like a good time.”
“I guess.”
“Still worried about Meg?”
“I can’t help it. She’s … she’s never fallen so hard before. I can tell that she’s been hurt and it kills me. I just can’t believe that of all the places Jackson Riley could show up for sustenance, he would choose Sushi Love.”
“Liddy, maybe none of this is what you think. The guy could have been doing market research. You said yourself that he’s been talking about upgrading the hotel. And I seem to recall that there’s been some talk of changes in the restaurant, right?”
“Yes …?”
“Well, then, isn’t it possible that the poor guy might have just been checking out the place for himself? Sushi Love is very popular right now.”
Another growl escaped her, right into the phone. “You … are … defending him? That’s ridiculous.”
He chuckled for the second time during the phone call, although with less confidence than before. “I’m just offering another possibility.”
“Why do men always stick together? You don’t even know him.”
“True, I don’t. Let’s talk it over tomorrow over lunch. Say, 11:30? It is your day off.”
“I should say no.”
“Give a guy a chance.”
“Fine. Okay. Lunch tomorrow. I’ll probably be there,” she said, a smug smile on her face as she hung up the phone.
Chapter 19
“You sure you’re okay?” Meg asked.
Liddy cradled the phone in one ear, while slipping into her shoes. Why did everyone seem to keep asking that? She spied her purse on the bed where she had left it after cleaning it out during a late-night frenzy, darted across the room to retrieve it, then abruptly sat. The room spun … well, her mind did. Her to-do list overwhelmed her. “After last night, I should be the one checking up on you.”
“Forget it,” Meg said. “Please.”
Liddy snapped a look inside her purse to make sure her wallet was safely inside. “I worry about you, though,” she was saying. “Listen, I’ve got to run some errands before meeting Beau for lunch, but can we do coffee later?”
“Liddy, take a breath. Enjoy your day off—and don’t worry about me!”
Walking on Sea Glass Page 16
