Sweet Days by the Bay

by Kay Correll

  “At the ice cream shop right down the street, The Trixie Cone.”

  “I think I’m going to pop in there and get a cone for my walk home.”

  Whitney’s eyes lit up. “Really? Ice cream sounds good to me, too.”

  “Well, lead the way.”

  They entered the shop. Red cafe tables were scattered around the room, and a large chalkboard behind the counter listed their multitude of flavors.

  Whitney walked up to the counter and greeted the woman working there. “Hey, Trixie. How’s it going?”

  He watched while Trixie stared at him for a moment, then ducked her head.

  She’d recognized him. Probably.

  Maybe.

  Or not.

  He was beginning to doubt anyone even knew who he was. Maybe he was just a legend in his own mind. He put his attention back on the chalkboard of flavors, though he knew he’d end up with butter pecan.

  He ordered his ice cream and Whitney ordered chocolate fudge. They wandered outside and down the street, eating their desserts.

  “So, I guess you know everyone in town?” He took a lick of the delicious dessert before it dripped all over him.

  Whitney grinned at him. “Almost everyone.”

  “That must be so… strange?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Don’t they always know your business and what you’re doing?”

  “Probably.” She shrugged. “But I like knowing most of the people I see here. At least the townspeople. Even some of the repeat tourists. Lots of people come back here year after year.”

  A drip of ice cream ran down his chin, and he swiped at his mouth. “This is really good. I mean, really, really good.”

  “Best ice cream in Indigo Bay.” Whitney stopped. “This is where I head this way, and you head that way back to The Pink Ladies.”

  “I… could walk you home. I mean, if that’s okay with you.” He was always asking to join her, wasn’t he?

  “You sure? You’ll have to double back afterward to get to the bay side of town. I live on the ocean side.”

  “Yep, I’m sure.”

  They fell into step, walking and finishing up their ice cream. They ambled down Seaside Boulevard, and she led him up to the door of a cute, little, mint-green cottage.

  “This is me.”

  He wondered if she was going to invite him in, but she climbed the steps to the porch without asking him.

  “Well, thanks for walking me home.”

  “You bet. It’s a nice night out.”

  “You know how to get back to The Pink Ladies?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, I’ll see you.” Whitney turned, unlocked the door, and slipped inside with a slight wave of her hand.

  He slowly turned around, his footsteps crunching on the crushed shell drive. He turned back once and saw the inside of the cottage illuminated with light, like a cheerful, welcoming home. A big contrast to his modern, interior-designer-decorated apartment in L.A. Cheerful or welcoming were about the least likely words anyone would use to describe it. Not that he was there very much. He was often off on location, or if he worked in town, the hours were long and grueling. When he was in between jobs, he often left the city.

  He scowled. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but his apartment in Los Angeles really held no appeal to him at all. He realized he didn’t ever think of it as home.

  He turned away again and slowly strolled through the streets of Indigo Bay, across the town to the bay side. He walked up the stairs to Pink Lady One where he was staying. No lights welcomed him here, either. He unlocked the door and walked into the dark, silent house.

  Chapter 4

  Finally, something was working out for the birthday gala for his grandmother. Whitney’s connection in Charleston set him up with everything he needed. The tent, chairs, tables, and even the dance floor. Whitney had saved him from the wrath of his sister and the disappointed looks from his parents. He just needed to convince Christina that this change was on purpose and a better option for the party. No need for her to find out he’d booked the pavilion for the wrong year. No need at all…

  He sat at a table at Pink Lady One with a pad of paper in front of him, crossing things off his list. He looked out at the bay while a large cruiser slid across the water and into the nearby marina. He’d gone on a long weekend cruise on a huge yacht after his last movie had wrapped up. It hadn’t turned out exactly as the relaxing trip he’d planned. Shawna Jacobson had been on the cruise and someone had grabbed photos of them together and blasted them all over social media. His agent ran with it and did his best to promote them as a couple.

  Which they weren’t.

  At times he thought Shawna might wish they were a couple, but he knew her well. She’d drop him in a heartbeat if a more famous actor came along.

  He stood and wandered over to the window, watching a lone blue heron walk along the waterfront in awkward strides. He glanced at his phone to check the time.

  Seemed like as good a time as any to take a break from his to-do list. Maybe he’d head over to Coastal Creations and see how Whitney was doing on the necklace. Yes, that was the reason he wanted to go see her. Just to check on the necklace.

  And maybe, while he was there, he’d ask her out to dinner. Not as a date, really. But as a thank you for helping him and giving him a solution to his Pavilion Problem as he’d begun to think of it. He grabbed his hat and sunglasses from the table.

  He went outside and climbed down the stairs of the long front porch. He glanced over at the red sports car but decided to walk instead. It wasn’t far to Whitney’s shop, and the day sprinkled warm sunshine all over the town.

  He strolled down the streets, debating on whether to grab another ice cream cone at The Trixie Cone but decided against it. A couple of weeks of eating everything he wanted and not going to the gym wasn’t going to help him any with landing the next role he was hoping to get. He looked wistfully through the window as he determinedly passed by the ice cream shop. As if to torment him a little bit more, a couple came out of the shop, laughing and licking on ice cream cones. He smiled a forced smile at them and walked on by.

  He pushed through the door of Whitney’s shop, and a friendly bell announced his entrance. She looked up from where she was sitting behind the counter, her head bent over her work, and smiled when she saw him.

  “Come look. I’ve started on your grandmother’s jewelry. I found some wonderful pieces of emerald green sea glass.”

  Her smile and eager words were impossible to resist. He crossed over to where she was working. She’d spread out a collection of sea glass and sorted out a few bright emerald pieces.

  “Those are great. My grandmother has emerald green eyes and loves to wear that color. This is going to be perfect.”

  “Well, I hope you like it when I get it all made up.”

  “I’m sure I will.” Whitney made very creative jewelry pieces, and this was one thing he was confident of in his gala planning. He was sure his grandmother would love this jewelry set. Who knew he had the ability to pick out the perfect gift?

  “You just out for a walk today? It’s a lovely day. One of those perfect summer days we’re known for. Not too hot, and a nice gentle breeze.”

  “It is a perfect day. And your rental suggestion in Charleston had everything I needed. I can’t thank you enough for saving the gala.”

  “I wouldn’t say I exactly saved it.”

  “Close enough.” Not to mention she saved him from embarrassing himself in front of his family with a failure to pull off the party after assuring them he had it all under control. Not that any member of his family had actually believed he could do this.

  “Well, I’m glad it worked out.” She shoved a few wisps of blonde curls away from her face. He tried not to stare at her delicate hands with their pale pink nails. Or her hair. Or her eyes. Her blue eyes the color of the sky on this perfect summer day.

  “I actually… well, I was won
dering…” Since when did he turn into a stuttering fool? “I wondered if I could take you to dinner. Just to say thank you for your help.” He hurried to add that caveat.

  “Well, sure, I guess.”

  Not the overwhelming acceptance he’d been hoping for. “I know it’s very last minute, but would you like to go tonight? I thought I’d make a reservation at a place in Charleston called Bistro Fifty.”

  “I’ve never been there. I’d love to go.”

  “The reviews I read sounded like it’s really great. If I pick you up at seven, would that work?”

  “It would. I actually have help coming in the shop tonight, so I can leave a bit early.”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you at seven.” He turned to walk away before she saw what he knew was a silly grin on his face. He was ridiculously happy that she’d said yes to his invitation.

  Merry perched on the end of Whitney’s bed. She tilted her head to one side. “Not that one. It’s too casual.”

  “Well, how fancy is this place?” Whitney scowled. She liked the dress she’d tried on. A simple, casual sundress.

  “Well, I looked Bistro Fifty up online and read some reviews.”

  “You did?” She stared at her friend.

  “Of course I did. Right after you called me. I didn’t want to steer you wrong.” Merry popped off the bed. “I wonder what the fifty stands for in the name. Or maybe it’s just a trendy thing to put a number in the restaurant name.”

  She marveled at her friend. She would never have thought to look up the place. “Okay, so what should I wear?”

  “How about the blue dress you have? It brings out the color of your eyes.”

  She rooted through her closet to the very back and pulled out a simple royal blue linen dress. She held it up and eyed it. She rarely wore it because linen wrinkled so badly, but she did think it looked good on her. “Okay, I’ll try this one on.”

  She slowly turned around in front of the full-length mirror after she’d slipped on the dress. “Okay, I think this was a good choice.”

  “Yes, it’s perfect.” Merry nodded. “Now, you need to wear heels with it.”

  “I was thinking about just wearing my black flats.”

  “Of course you were. Which is exactly why you have me as the perfect friend. Wear heels.”

  Whitney sighed and looked through the shoe boxes on the upper shelf of her closet. The shoe boxes that held shoes she rarely wore. She found the box with some cream-colored heels and slipped them on. “I hope I don’t trip in these.”

  Merry grinned. “You’ll be fine. Sometimes I think that being your friend is a full-time job.”

  “Very funny.” She stuck her tongue out.

  “Now, let’s find you the perfect necklace.”

  “Ah, now jewelry, that I can do.” Whitney opened the large top drawer of her dresser and picked out a simple but elegant necklace she’d made.

  Merry jumped up to fasten the necklace. “That looks perfect. Your jewelry is always so lovely.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now, I’m going to fix your hair.”

  “What do you mean fix it? It’s basically a pixie cut with a few longer wisps.”

  “I brought some texturing gel to keep it under control.”

  “Some what?” She eyed her friend.

  “Sit. I promise you’ll like it.” Merry opened a small container and rubbed some white pasty-looking goo on her hands. She slid her fingers through Whitney’s hair, then picked at some locks until she was satisfied. “Go look in the mirror.”

  She got up, walked back over to the mirror, and looked at her reflection. She had to admit that her hair did look nice. Just a bit of texture to her short locks. The blue dress and heels also looked nice, she grudgingly admitted to herself. “Thanks, Merry. I’d never have pulled this off without you. I mean, what do I know about what one wears when they are going out with a movie star?”

  “You look perfect.” Merry squeezed Whitney’s shoulders. “Now, do you have a purse other than that old beat up one?”

  “Over in the dresser. Second drawer.”

  Merry crossed over and brought back a simple clutch bag. “Give me your purse. I’ll put your wallet and cell phone in here. Oh, and some lipstick.”

  “You think of everything.”

  “Hey, I’ve been waiting a long time for you to go on a real date. I want you to get it right.”

  She wanted to get it right, too. Her pulse raced with just the thought of going out with someone famous. What did she know about going out with someone used to the jet-set crowd? But then, as soon as she thought of him as just Rick, it made her feel better.

  They both turned at the sound of a knock at the door. Whitney took a deep breath.

  “You going to answer that?” Merry grinned at her.

  “Yes. I guess I’m ready.”

  “You are. You look perfect, trust me.”

  Rick stood at the door of Whitney’s cottage, a small bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand. He’d no idea why he was so nervous. It wasn’t like he didn’t go out on dates quite a bit. There was always some function his agent wanted him to go to. But somehow, this woman had managed to do what the most famous actress, or heiress, or anyone he’d dated had never done. She’d set him on edge and made him as nervous as he’d been on his first audition.

  The door swung open, and the woman he’d run into at Whitney’s shop stood in the doorway. “Hi, I’m Merry. I was just leaving.” She slipped past him. “Oh, nice touch on the flowers.” The woman grinned. “You two have a good time.”

  Then Whitney stood in front of him, looking so different than the woman who owned Coastal Creations and her simple, casual everyday style. Not that he minded her everyday look, but she looked stunning tonight.

  “You look great.”

  She gave him a tentative smile. “Thank you.” She nervously ran her hand along the side of her dress.

  “Oh, these are for you.” He stepped inside and handed her the flowers.

  “Thank you. I’ll go put them in a vase.” She disappeared, then came back with the flowers in a vase and set them on a table. “They’re very pretty.”

  He cleared his throat. “You ready to go?”

  “I am.”

  They walked outside and he held the door open for her to get into the red sports car. She slid into the passenger seat, offering him a good look at her long, tanned leg. He carefully closed the door behind her and walked around the car, getting his bearings. This woman had a way of knocking his senses off kilter.

  He got into the car and the engine started with a low, purring growl. “Okay, off we go.”

  They headed into Charleston, and Whitney sat quietly clutching her handbag. He knew he should start up a conversation, but words were failing him.

  Say something.

  “So, do you go into Charleston often for dinner?” That was the best he could come up with?

  “Not often. Honestly, I’m usually so busy at the shop that I rarely even leave Indigo Bay. My brother keeps bugging me to come see him on Belle Island on the gulf coast of Florida, but I haven’t made time to do that in ages.”

  “Any other family?”

  “My father. He recently moved back to Indigo Bay after being gone for years.”

  “That must be nice for you.”

  “It’s an… adjustment. We were estranged for years, but I think we’ve worked things out.” She pressed her hand against her dress. “How about you? Family?”

  “Ah, yes. I have family. My grandmother, of course. A brother and sister, my parents, nieces, aunts and uncles, and I’ve lost count of how many cousins.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot. It’s just my father, my brother, and I. I can’t imagine having a big family like that.”

  He hadn’t really thought about it. He did come from a huge family. He’d just accepted that was his life. Even if they were critical of him. Even if they drove him nuts at times. He guessed he was lucky to have that much family. Usually.
“Well, most of them will be here for the gala. My brother will be here, and my sister will be here with her kids and stay at one of The Pink Ladies. So will my grandmother and my parents. A couple of aunts will be here with their broods. They all are staying around Indigo Bay or in Charleston. A lot of my grandmother’s friends are coming, too.”

  “Sounds like it will be huge.”

  “A couple hundred people, I guess.”

  “Wow.”

  He didn’t think it was that many people. He was used to huge shindigs in L.A. A couple hundred people were barely called a party in his circles. “Well, my grandmother does have a lot of friends, plus our family. It’s a lot, I guess.”

  He pulled up in front of Bistro Fifty, and a valet opened the door for Whitney as he slid out of the driver’s seat. He tossed the keys to the valet and took Whitney’s arm. A young woman walked up to them and he paused.

  “Oh, you’re Rick Nichols, aren’t you?”

  He forced a smile and nodded. “I am.”

  “Could I get a photo with you? Please?”

  “Of course.” He knew that having his photo taken with fans was just part of his job, though Whitney looked a bit shocked.

  The woman jumped beside them and snapped off a few selfies on her cell phone. “Thank you. Thank you. My friends will never believe I saw you—Rick Nichols—right here in Charleston.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The girl walked away, busily tapping into her phone as she walked. He took Whitney’s elbow and led her into the restaurant. He noticed the stunned looked still plastered on her face.

  “Mr. Nichols. We’re so glad to have you here.” The maitre d’ hurried up to them. “I have reserved our best table for you.”

  “Thank you.” Rick had to admit that having actor status sometimes helped with getting the perfect reservation at the perfect table. At least the restaurant had recognized him even if Whitney hadn’t. He was going to get over that fact really soon. Maybe.

  The man led them to their table and handed Rick an extensive wine list. “The wine steward will be over to take your order.”