“Edie tells me you spent a lot of time down here as a kid,” Brody said as they roared off down the street.
“I did.”
“My family came down here a lot, too. Funny we never ran into each other.”
“Who’d remember someone you saw on the beach as a kid?” Jenna said.
He shot her a grin. “As pretty as you are now, you had to have been cute. I’d have remembered.”
Oh, yes. Flattery will get you everywhere. “Is this how you sell houses, by flattering your clients?” Jenna teased.
“No, I sell houses by showing people great places to live. It’s not hard. Who doesn’t want to live at the beach?”
“For sure. I always loved it here. It’s good to be back.” And it felt good to be zipping down the road in a nice car with the wind whipping her hair and the sun on her face. Ah, this was the life.
Jenna and Sabrina had passed the Porthole coming in. Its location between the Best Western and the Quality Inn made it popular with visitors to town and the food made it popular with locals. In addition to good food, it offered a view of the dunes and the water beyond from the second story, which was where the fine dining area was situated. They passed the café and bar down below and went up the rough-hewn wooden steps to the main restaurant. Brody obviously knew the skinny woman with jet-black hair and red lipstick standing at the hostess podium.
“Brody,” she purred. “I didn’t know you were coming in today.” This was accompanied by a not quite so welcoming once-over of Jenna.
“I wanted our newest citizen to see our best restaurant,” said Brody the schmoozer. “Can you squeeze us in by a window, Laurel?”
The restaurant was nearly full, but Laurel managed to get them a table in a far corner where they could watch the surf roll in.
“This is Jenna Jones, by the way,” Brody said. “Edie’s niece.”
“I heard you were coming,” Laurel said to Jenna. “Good thing. Old Edie could use some help over there.”
That was putting it mildly.
“So, what are your plans for the old place?” Brody asked after their waitress had taken their orders for shrimp sandwiches and tossed salad.
“We’re going to try to get it up and running again.”
“Good luck with that,” said Brody. Their waitress returned with iced tea and he dumped a bunch of sugar in his and gave it a thoughtful stir. “You know, even though the motel’s got issues, that property’s really valuable. If Edie sold it she’d make a nice bundle.”
This was the second person in an hour who’d told her that. The accountant had no hidden agenda. Jenna had to wonder about Brody. If he handled the sale he’d make a fat commission.
“Have you talked with my aunt about this?”
“Oh, yeah. She’s attached to the place, which is understandable. But sometimes you have to let go of things.”
Like bad marriages. But, unlike a bad marriage, the Driftwood Inn could be saved. “Sometimes you have to fight for things, too.”
He smiled. “A woman with drive. I like that.”
“A woman who’s not looking to get involved with anyone,” Jenna warned him.
“And why is that? I thought your aunt said you’re divorced.”
“Just barely. Not in a hurry to jump into anything new.”
Brody nodded. “I get that. I’m divorced myself.” He picked up his iced tea and shook his head. “Eighteen years down the tube.”
“Have you got children?”
“A boy and girl, both in high school. College right around the corner.”
And wouldn’t it be nice if he could convince Aunt Edie to sell the Driftwood Inn? That commission would help with the college tuition.
You’re being cynical, Jenna scolded herself. Still, she couldn’t resist saying, “I guess you’ll have to sell a lot of beach homes.”
He shrugged. “Not that many. My boy’s looking good for a football scholarship and my daughter’s a killer on the basketball court. I think she’ll probably get some kind of scholarship money, too.” He leaned back in his chair. “So, no pressure beyond the usual paying whatever the ex can suck out of me.” His cheeks suddenly flushed. “Oh, sorry.”
“Don’t be. My ex is sucking me dry.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Didn’t your aunt say you’ve got a kid?”
“I do. And an ex who’s an artist. I was the main earner, so I’m the one paying spousal support until he can get on his feet. He can’t even support himself right now, let alone our child.” But who’s bitter? She ripped open a sugar packet and dumped its contents into her tea.
“Well, equal rights, I guess,” Brody said dubiously.
“He shouldn’t have any rights. He’s a bum and rat and doesn’t deserve anything,” Jenna snapped. Way to make a good impression. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m still adjusting.”
“I get it,” Brody said. “I put my ex’s picture on a dartboard and used it every day for the first six months after we split.”
That made her smile. “Is it still there?”
“Nah. I moved on. You’ll get there,” he added.
“The sooner, the better.”
Their sandwiches arrived and they left behind the unpleasant topic of exes, focusing instead on the future, mainly Jenna’s.
“You really should try to talk your aunt into selling the place,” Brody said, making Jenna suspicious of his friendliness all over again. Until he added, “But if you’re determined to make a go of it, I can recommend a roofer. It needs a new roof,” he added, just in case she hadn’t noticed the missing shingles, water stains and musty carpets in the rooms.
“I figured as much,” she said. “I wonder what that will cost.”
“Well, fortunately for you, the motel’s not that big. Maybe you could get by for forty or fifty K.”
“Fifty thousand dollars,” Jenna repeated weakly. So much for Aunt Edie’s three thousand and her eight hundred. That was just the roof. It didn’t count new paint and carpet and all the other needed improvements. Quicksand. They were in quicksand. Was there a way she could make blue tarp attractive?
Jenna suddenly wasn’t hungry.
“Eat up,” Brody encouraged her. “You’re going to need your strength.”
“I need more than strength,” she said. “Maybe I should try and find an investor.” She looked at him hopefully. Maybe Brody Green would like to invest in a motel.
He didn’t take the bait. He was too busy digging into his sandwich. “You don’t have to do everything all at once,” he said around a mouthful of shrimp. “Take it in stages. Get one of those Pardon Our Dust signs. People will understand.” He motioned to her untouched sandwich. “Try it. It’s really good.”
She did. It was.
She ate the whole thing while Brody filled her in on the nightlife in Moonlight Harbor. In short, there wasn’t much of one.
“The Drunken Sailor is still the favorite hangout at night,” he said. “They’ve got line dancing there on Sunday nights. Austin Banks, who owns the kite shop, teaches it. She’s from Texas. If you couldn’t tell by the name you sure could by the accent. Her husband, Roy, does the music for it.”
“That sounds fun,” Jenna said. She’d always thought she’d like to take up line dancing. Maybe she would. She could do anything she wanted now. As long as it didn’t cost money.
“I’ll take you sometime if you like,” he offered. “Introduce you around.”
“Thanks. That’s sweet of you.”
“Hey, we like to make the newcomers feel welcome. This is a friendly town.”
“Yes, it is,” Jenna agreed. “So, what else is there to do?”
“We’ve got a movie-plex with four whole theaters. The community club sponsors bingo once a month and we’ve got a bowling alley, which is great if you like playing on lanes
that never get oiled. There’s a group of old guys who play tennis over on the courts three times a week.” Brody shook his head. “I played with them once. Thought they’d be easy pickings. They kicked my butt.”
“I’m not very sporty,” Jenna confessed.
“Well, if you like to read, the library sponsors a book club. And a bunch of the women hang out at your aunt’s place every Friday night. You’ll meet a lot of our movers and shakers there. You know, your aunt’s been a fixture here for as long as I can remember. Everybody loves her.”
Was there somebody who loved her enough to float her a loan? Probably not. All those movers and shakers had their own businesses to keep afloat. Business at the beach was seasonal and Jenna suspected that some people barely hung on from season to season.
Could she and Aunt Edie hang on? Once again, her appetite evaporated.
She passed on the offer of dessert, so Brody called for the check and they zipped back to the Moonlight Harbor Business Complex. The wind was still playing with Jenna’s hair and the sun was still warm on her face, but reality had doused her earlier feeling of euphoria.
“Don’t get discouraged,” Brody said, reading her worried mind. “Things always work out somehow.”
Yes, they did. And if worse came to worst, good old Brody would be right there to help her sell the Driftwood Inn. Sigh.
She returned home to find Aunt Edie on the living room couch, crocheting, Jolly Roger perched on the back, looking over her shoulder.
“No solicitors!” he greeted her.
Aunt Edie looked up with a worried smile. “You were with Whit a long time.”
“Actually, I wasn’t with him the whole time,” Jenna said, plopping onto her favorite seashell chair. “I met Brody Green and he took me out to lunch.”
The smile got sunnier. “Brody is a sweetie. He’s single, you know,” Aunt Edie added oh-so-casually.
“Yes, so he said.”
“Nice man. Oodles of money.”
“Aunt Edie,” Jenna chided. “You’re not suggesting I go after a man for his money.”
“Oh no, of course not. But money is always a nice bonus. It greases the wheels.”
And heaven knew, their wheels could use some greasing. Still. “I’m not in the market for a man. I just got rid of one.”
“Well, he was a poor excuse for a man,” Aunt Edie said. “Sometimes the first try doesn’t work out but you can strike gold on the second. I certainly did with Ralph.”
“Yes, you did,” Jenna agreed. “I don’t think I ever want to try again, though.”
“You’re much too young to be saying things like that.”
“I don’t feel young.” In fact, she was sure she’d aged ten years in the last hour.
“You need to get out and have some fun, and Brody’s just the man to do it with.”
Do it. It would be nice to have sex again sometime in her lifetime. But celibacy was safer. In so many ways.
“First things first. Maybe I’ll have time for a man after we get this place whipped into shape.”
Maybe.
Or not.
“I wouldn’t wait that long,” cautioned Aunt Edie. “Life’s too short.”
“Life’s too short,” Roger agreed. He and Aunt Edie must have had many a philosophical discussion.
“Where’s Sabrina?” Jenna asked, changing the subject.
“She’s cleaning the upstairs bathroom. Isn’t that sweet of her? I didn’t even ask her—she did it all by herself.”
Yes, all by herself. With a little nudge from Mom. But at least she was doing it.
Doing it. Do it. Sex.
Stop it, Jenna! Focus.
Focusing on everything they had to do was enough to give her a headache. She took two ibuprofens, and then spent the afternoon beachcombing with Sabrina. They didn’t get enough wind to fly the kite but they did find an agate, which helped Sabrina temporarily forget her hatred for her mean mom who had ruined her life.
Time on the beach with her daughter was good medicine, and by the time they returned Jenna was feeling much better.
Until she saw that Pete still hadn’t fixed the sign or the broken step. They were no closer to getting the Driftwood Inn in shape and that dangling sign mocked her.
With a growl, she went in search of Uncle Ralph’s old toolbox. If you wanted anything done you had to do it yourself.
Half an hour later the sign was properly hung and swinging in the breeze. There. Now they were one step closer to having the old place up and running.
Hahahahahahaha.
Chapter Seven
To Do:
Price paint and carpet
Check out bedding suppliers
Clean bathroom in reserved unit
Pray for money to fall from heaven
After breakfast Jenna found someone to take care of the boarded-up window, then left Sabrina busy texting with Marigold about how bored she was and drove to Beach Lumber and Hardware to price paint. She figured her top priority was probably to get the roof checked, but the potential cost of that was overwhelming so she decided to start with something she knew they could handle.
The place was busy. An old geezer in a baseball cap with Beach Lumber printed on it was ringing up a sale. A middle-aged couple was waiting to buy a clam gun, and several men were wandering through the store holding plastic pipe or bags of nails.
One woman wheeled past Jenna with a cart filled with lavender starts. “It’s one of the few things the deer don’t eat,” she explained.
Jenna spotted Tyrella Lamb, who was advising a woman on hinges. She gave Jenna a cheerful nod and promised to be with her in a minute, and Jenna nodded back and went to the paint section. So many shades of blue—how could she choose?
A moment later, Tyrella was standing by her side. “Paint for the inn?”
“Yes. I need something to match the blue tarp we’re probably going to have to put on the roof.”
Tyrella smiled at that. She picked up a sample card. “This one’s very popular down here.”
It was a pretty shade—not too pale but not too dark, either. “Summer Sky,” Jenna read. “I like that.”
“I think your motel would look great that color,” said Tyrella. “And white for the trim.” She handed Jenna another sample card. This one was labeled Summer Cloud.
Blue with white trim. Perfect. She could already envision the Driftwood looking fresh and pretty and ready for business. “I love it. How much do I need?”
“Well, let’s see.” Tyrella pulled a small tablet and pencil from her carpenter’s apron and began to scribble. “Your place is about two hundred feet long.”
“Two hundred feet. That’s not bad.”
“Don’t forget, you’ve got a front and a back, and two sides. Your building is about ten feet high, give or take. That’s probably around forty-four-hundred square feet. So, I’d say you’ll need fifteen gallons. Oh, then there’s paint for the window and door trim, and your doors. And, of course, you’ll need paint for your rooms. You’ll want to figure two gallons for each room. You’ll probably want forty gallons to be safe.”
“That much more paint for the rooms?”
“Four walls, ceilings.”
Expense.
“And if you paint the bathrooms...”
“Oh, boy,” Jenna said faintly. She looked at the escalating price and gulped. There went more than a third of Aunt Edie’s stash just on paint. But it had to be done.
“I’ll give you a ten percent welcome to Moonlight Harbor discount,” Tyrella said.
“Thank you.” It would help. “Will that be okay with your husband?”
“Leroy? I doubt he cares. He passed on four years ago.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize. When you mentioned him...”
“I should have said that he’s
in heaven now,” Tyrella said. “But it always sounds so stuffy and old lady to say ‘my late husband,’ and just calling him my dead husband sounds creepy. Anyway, my late, dead, gone husband was a generous man, and he’d approve of me helping another member of the community. You’ve got a lot on your plate, so if I can help make your life a little easier, I’m glad to do it. Everyone’s excited that you’ve come to help Edie. We all love her.”
“I’m excited to be here,” Jenna said. And she was...except for when she was worrying about her daughter or wondering where the money was going to come from to fix the place.
“What are you doing for lunch today?”
Who had time to eat? “Tuna fish sandwich probably.”
“How about a salmon Cobb, my treat?”
“That’s awfully nice of you, but—”
“Oh, not really. I want you to come to the chamber of commerce meeting with me. Lunch at noon at Sandy’s. The schmoozing starts at eleven-thirty.”
“Chamber of commerce?” Jenna repeated. “Isn’t that for business owners?”
“You’re managing your aunt’s motel, aren’t you? And, trust me, it’s no secret that Edie’s leaving it to you. You qualify as a local business owner. And it never hurts to network.”
“I was going to go to Quinault and price carpet this morning.”
“Go to Ben Samuels over at the Carpet Guys. He’ll give you a square deal. There,” Tyrella added with a grin. “Now you won’t have to run all over the place looking. I just saved you a good hour.”
“Well, when you put it that way,” Jenna said, smiling at her. She looked down at her jeans and T-shirt. “Guess I should go home and put on something more professional looking.”
“Business casual is fine.”
So Jenna went home, donned a sundress, sweater and sandals and then drove down Harbor Boulevard to Sandy’s, a restaurant that offered casual dining. What they lacked in a view they made up for in decor. The small space outside the restaurant had been turned into a tiny beach, complete with sand and shells, a small lime-green lifeguard chair planted in it. Inside, a net was hung on one wall, holding a starfish and a turquoise glass float. The smell of cooking fish told her what was popular on the menu.
Welcome to Moonlight Harbor Page 9
