Hurricane in Paradise (Florida Keys Mystery Series Book 10)
Page 29
Our bags were loaded onto the boat in short order, and we left the SUV parked in the lot; no cars allowed on the island. Fab wrapped herself around Didier for the ride over. Creole and I claimed the far corner. Sitting in his lap, I wrapped my arms around his neck.
The private beach of the resort was like a slice of heaven, the white sand sifting through my toes. I was the first one to take my shoes off. The hotel was built on its own private beach, within several hundred feet of the blue-green water surrounding the entire property. It didn’t take long before we were checked in and a golf cart took us to our cottage. Two bedrooms, one on each side, totally private, and bathrooms with waterfall showers and sunken marble tubs. We had our own patio area nestled under palm trees on the sand, complete with a fire pit and choice of loungers and hammocks.
Trying to decide what to do first, we voted on waverunners, spending the rest of the day cruising around the open waters, exploring the smaller nearby Keys.
* * *
In order to guarantee a dining table on the beach in front of the resort restaurant, we had to make an early reservation, which suited me fine. Both Fab and I had on sleeveless, black mid-calf dresses and sandals.
On our way to dinner, I curled into Creole. “Can we go to bed early?”
“You tired?”
“A little.”
“Come to think of it, me too.” We stopped to kiss until Fab whistled loudly, a reminder to hurry up.
Once we were seated, Didier ordered a bottle of white wine and offered up the first toast. “To good friends.” We clinked glasses.
Surprisingly, there wasn’t a single contentious word between Fab and Creole. Didier had already banned work talk. He took on the role of entertainer and kept us laughing.
Once dinner was over, we split up, going our separate ways. Fab and Didier left to go for a walk on the beach, while Creole and I walked along the shoreline back to the cottage. Lanterns had been lit along the sand, and as we got closer, we saw that the outside deck was awash in hanging down-drop lights. We lost none of the view, as the French doors to the bedroom opened onto the private patio overlooking the same stretch of beach.
* * *
The next morning, Fab and I sat out on the deck, enjoying the view and drinking coffee, and the guys went for a mini-run down the beach to get more information about a dive trip.
“You must have morphed into Mother,” I said to Fab. “There’s enough food here to feed us for a week.” Fab had surprised everyone by calling room service and ordering breakfast.
“Creole doesn’t look happy.” Fab inclined her head at the two men walking up the beach. “Neither does Didier.”
“Spoon called,” Creole said, climbing the steps and sitting in a chair next to me. “Not a happy man. I think he expected me to know what he was talking about, and I didn’t.”
I shook my head. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No,” Creole said. “Some surprise get together at Madeline’s starting in the morning. Supposedly, you two promised you’d be there, and ‘Why aren’t you home when she needs your help?’”
“I don’t know what Spoon’s talking about either,” I said in exasperation. “Mother has these impromptu family events all the time. We can miss one. She probably wants my help in corralling Brad into living at her house. Which my brother vehemently denies he’s going to do.” I stood and stomped into the cottage.
Out of patience, I slammed the bedroom door with a resounding bang. I dumped the contents of my purse on the floor, fishing out my phone. I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to get the petulant child who’d invaded my body under control.
Then I flounced on the bed, calling Mother. If only I had a bit of blackmail material to hang over Fab’s head to get her to make this call, but I didn’t have anything good.
“Mother,” I said when she answered. “Thank you for the invitation, but the four of us are out of town for some much-needed relaxation. We can get together when we return to Tarpon.”
“Honey,” she started.
“I know you understand.”
There was a long silence. “Of course,” she said and hung up without a good-bye.
I lay for a long moment staring at the ceiling. “Damn.” I threw my phone across the room, knowing damn well that Mother had been crying when she hung up. I’d never come close to the “worst daughter of the year” award, but today, it felt like I’d won it with no close competition.
Creole stuck his head in the door, shaking his head at seeing my phone on the floor. “Is it safe to come in?”
“I made Mother cry.”
He pushed me onto my side and wrapped me in his arms. “I’ll call and tell her we’re on our way back.”
A loud banging on the bedroom door made Creole growl.
“You decent?” Fab yelled.
“Good thing I locked the door, or she’d already be in here.” He crossed the room and opened it. “Would you like to come in?”
“Hardly. Didier’s got an update you’ll want to hear.” Fab hobbled off, one foot bare, the other in a tennis shoe.
I slid off the bed and linked my hand with Creole’s; we kissed briefly and followed.
Fab threw out her arm in a sweeping motion, pointing to the loveseat. “Make yourselves comfortable. This one’s a doozy.”
Didier tossed his phone on the table. “Spoon called, shouting; about put my ear out. Fab told me to bill you if I need to go to the doctor.” He smirked at me.
“Could you speed it along?” Creole snapped.
“Let me see if I can remember the man’s exact words.” He paused, enjoying his friends’ rising irritation level a little too much. “Oh yes. ‘Get your asses back here; you’re not ruining our wedding.’”
That’s a good one. Then I realized Didier wasn’t kidding.
Fab raised her hand. “I heard him. For once, Didier let me listen in.”
Chapter Forty-Five
“We are gathered together to celebrate the love between Madeline and James by joining them in marriage.”
Fab and I had sat in the back of the SUV on the way home, lamenting over what to wear when we had not one detail about the pending nuptials. Didier had flipped a coin to decide who was going to call Mother and ask questions, since neither of us trusted the other not to cheat. I didn’t gloat, except for the fist pump when I won. Fab refused to put the call on speaker, so I did the next best thing and practically sat on her to listen in.
Mother laughed after talking to Fab, informing us that the dresses and accessories were already hanging in our bedrooms and no shoes were required and confiding that the wedding would be beachfront at a local resort that specialized in them. As expected, she’d chosen beautiful dresses. Fab’s and mine were pale pink, strapless, and ankle length. Mother also apologized and admitted that after she hung up, she realized that in the excitement of planning the wedding, she’d forgotten to ask us to save the date.
“Is this the first time you’ve worn a color other than black?” I asked Fab.
She wrinkled her nose at me. “Of course not.”
“I must have missed that one time.”
“Pay attention.” She tossed her head to where a woman was motioning for us to get in line.
We walked down a wooden deck that had been laid out in the sand, ending at a deck platform with a pergola, the columns covered in gauze and the top decorated in flowers that matched our anklets and the flowers in our hair. Ending several feet from where the waves rolled on shore, the deck itself was lined in lanterns of various sizes.
Spoon and his two attendants, who I didn’t recognize, were in black tuxedos, the bottoms of their pants rolled up, the white roses pinned to their lapels matching the bouquet that Mother carried.
Mother came up the aisle, all smiles for her groom, in an elegant ankle-length, rose-co
lored A-line dress, low-cut, with lacey straps. She kissed us before turning to the minister.
The ceremony was short and sweet, and I teared up at the I-do’s. Spoon swooped her into a kiss that had the guests clapping.
Round tables had been set up under another pergola strung with rows of lights across the top and down the columns. The guests gravitated to the bar, and since most knew one another, there was no one left off to one side by themselves or running for the exit. Except for my brother.
Weaving through the tables, I ended up next to him. “You okay?”
“Have I told you that you’re my favorite sister?”
“I’m happy that I’ve retained my ‘number one’ status.” That earned me a smile. “You worried about Mother?”
“Not so much,” he said on a resigned sigh. “If she’s happy, then I’m happy. I corralled Spoon yesterday and told him that if he hurt her, I’d kill him and there would be nothing left to bury.”
“What did he say?” I’d never thought anyone would have the nerve to threaten the man.
“Oh, he had something choice to say, but he bit it back, nodded, and left.” He hugged me hard. “I consulted a lawyer about my truck, and I’m letting it go. It could end up costing me as much as the truck is worth in legal fees and wouldn’t be settled overnight. I’m spending the money on a new ride.” He sighed. “There’s talk of a plea bargain for Patty. She goes back to the nuthouse until she’s declared competent, at which point, she’ll be tried.”
“You okay with that?”
“I just want to forget any of this happened.”
I linked my arm in his. “We should get back.”
The reception flew by. The guests ate and drank; great stories were told about meeting Mother or Spoon, all ending in laughs; the happy couple shared their first dance; and everyone made toasts, all with the backdrop of the water gently lapping the white sand.
Mother, in a flashy show, dragged Fab, Julie, and me to the front, producing three garters and throwing them at us.
I hooked mine over my finger, sought out Creole, and twirled it around, laughing.
“Which of you will be first?” Mother asked wistfully.
“I have some news.” Julie beckoned to Brad and Liam.
Creole wrapped his arms around me from behind and whispered in my ear, “Is the preacher waiting in the wings to perform a group ceremony?”
I turned in his arms. “Don’t suggest that. Even if he’s left already, Mother would get him back.”
“I’ve been offered the leading role in an Indie film.” Julie beamed, clutching Brad’s hand. “I’m leaving for Los Angeles in a couple of days and will be back in about two months.”
There was a round of congratulations and clapping.
Brad looked like he’d reconciled himself to it, but Liam was harder to read. I congratulated Julie, knowing she was talented and how much her big break would mean to her.
Mother and Spoon then made their escape into a waiting limo, which was taking them to a private island off the coast of Key West for their honeymoon.
Creole whirled me around on the dance floor.
I pulled one side of my dress up over my wrist, and he lifted me onto his feet. I’m a really bad dancer. Unless I’m a bit tipsy. I refrained for Mother’s sake, not wanting to turn the wedding into Madison behaving badly.
Fab and Didier walked up arm in arm.
“Ready to sneak out? That way we don’t get delayed by all the goodbyes,” Fab said. “We found a path that goes straight to the parking lot.”
“We?” Didier arched his brow.
“You were with me in spirit.” Fab smiled up at him.
“That’s a good one,” I said. “I’ll have to remember that.”
Creole laughed and shook his head.
“The newlyweds are gone; no need for us hang around. I’ve had enough of pink,” Fab said, looking down at her dress.
“You both look great,” Creole said.
Didier nodded in agreement.
“We can’t all leave together; it will draw attention. Go left—” She pointed. “—and around that post, and it’s a straight shot to the parking lot.” She linked her arm through Didier’s. “Any reason we need to wait for you two?”
Creole squeezed me to his side and shook his head. “Got this covered. We’ll see you in a couple of days.” He kissed me. “Let’s go to the beach house.”
PARADISE SERIES NOVELS
Crazy in Paradise
Deception in Paradise
Trouble in Paradise
Murder in Paradise
Greed in Paradise
Revenge in Paradise
Kidnapped in Paradise
Swindled in Paradise
Executed in Paradise
Hurricane in Paradise
Starfish Island – A standalone romance
Deborah’s books are available on Amazon
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About The Author
Deborah Brown is an Amazon bestselling author of the Paradise series. She lives in South Florida, with her ungrateful animals, where Mother Nature takes out her bad attitude in the form of hurricanes.
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Deborah’s books are available on Amazon
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