by Amy Saunders
Her grandmother actually seemed somewhat thrown off balance. Not that she was falling apart at the seams, or even looked frazzled, but Belinda sensed she wasn't expecting that.
"You have something to add," her grandmother said. "Go ahead and get it out."
She couldn't afford to be overly confident or think this would end it all. Too much was at stake. But she did have a pretty good plan in mind, if she did say so herself. "The problem is the direction we're headed will only lead to a bigger spotlight with much more negative attention. I will not give Bennett up, and I will go down with him–society, media, and all–and bring you with me."
Her grandmother visibly stiffened. If she'd been snubbed from the big hospital fundraiser for what had already happened, Belinda would leave it to her imagination what the future could bring if Bennett faced sentencing, or prison, with Belinda by his side.
Belinda crossed her legs. "I'm considering how a woman in your position would handle this delicate situation and avert all of that...unpleasantness."
"Go on."
Belinda took a quick breath, realizing she'd been holding it in. "You get the charges dropped and his record expunged, and our entire family, including significant others, will be invited to the Anderson's party next month. As one of the leading families in Portside, they will welcome us with open arms in front of the rest of society. Soon after, invitations will start flooding in again, and when the time is right, we'll host our own event to put all others to shame, and all will be right in the world."
"How exactly do you intend to make that happen?" Her tone had changed, though she was still trying to sound condescending.
"You have your contacts, I have mine."
Her grandmother smirked. "It seems we are of the same blood after all."
Maybe. Though that was a frightening thought. "No one ends up miserable. We all get what we really want. You have your rightful place in society, I have the man I want, and Portside society gets the cream of the crop at every event."
"I'm impressed. You thought this through."
"I'm usually underestimated."
Her grandmother smiled. "You haven't let it stop you, which just shows the kind of stock you come from."
Belinda was thinking it showed she was a lot like her father's side of the family, especially her nana.
"Your plan makes sense," her grandmother continued. "If you can pull off your end of the deal."
Belinda just looked over at her. "I'd go shopping for some new evening wear if I were you."
"We'll see."
Yes, they would. Belinda had already put her plan into motion, working her way back into the nucleus of Portside via Alexa. That charity luncheon was just the start. Who knew?
Then there was her Master Plan. Very soon now, plans would be announced for the renovation of the police station where Jonas was assigned, the oldest station in Portside. And who was making this possible? The Kittridges, that's who.
Belinda hoped her grandmother had a closet full of party-wear. She was going to need it.
"I visited Gary in the hospital yesterday," her grandmother said. "He's interested in your proposal. Apparently he has something important going on, and he's almost ready to share. That is, if your contact would still be interested." Her grandmother looked at her over the top of her sunglasses.
Belinda smiled. "Oh, I think she will be." She leaned back in her seat in total satisfaction, staring out at the horizon. Best. Moment. Ever.
The next day, in the middle of the junk mail, Belinda was pleased to spy a crisp white envelope addressed to "Mr. and Ms. Kittridge" in printed script with a familiar return address.
She pulled out a formal invitation to the Anderson's party. Smiling, she pushed the invitation back into the envelope, finally entitled to a small feeling of smug satisfaction.
Take that, Gram.
She had to delay the rest of her rejoicing when Bennett arrived to pick her up. It was launch day–the return of Sea Stud and her brother's sailing obsession.
A few minutes later, Belinda, Bennett, and her immediate family huddled together at the marina, near the airplane-hangar like buildings housing crafts that needed work.
Sea Stud, or whatever it was now called (she couldn't see the name), was dangling above them, two thick belts wrapped under its hull as supports. Below was the water between two walls of concrete. A giant crane held the boat. A power tool kept buzzing on and off, making it difficult to hear, and the wind whipped stray hairs in her face. Belinda stood next to her brother, tense with anticipation. He was quiet and his brown eyes were somber.
The crane came to life, shuddering as it lowered Sea Stud into the harbor water. As usual, it was impossible to see to the bottom. The white fiberglass glittered in the sunlight, a rainbow of colors dancing in front of her eyes as the sun hit it at different angles. It dipped below the concrete barriers until the top of the mast was the only visible part. The belts loosened once in the water and were slipped out from underneath it.
The four of them waited while the sailboat was brought to the dock slip, its new home for the summer. Belinda finally had a clear view of the name: Skiff Marks.
"Skiff Marks?!" Belinda exclaimed.
Kyle grinned. "Do you get it?"
Belinda stared at it. What was there to get?
"Think back," Kyle said, enjoying this too much. "Waaayyy back. To about third grade."
Third grade? What in the name of Kyle getting swallowed by Megalodon on his way to Australia happened in third grade that would warrant a name on his prized sailboat?
"Give up yet?" He flashed an evil smile–straight out of his secret compartment of ways to annoy her.
"No." She folded her arms stubbornly. Third grade. Third grade. Third...grade.... Oh. Oh!
He meant the summer before the three of them–Kyle, Mark Nichols, and Belinda–entered third grade. It was the summer Kyle and Mark decided they wanted to sail around the world. And they thought they would do it in a small sailboat, a skiff.
A grin spread on her face. "I like it," she said. "Mark would approve."
Kyle leaped on board, helping Belinda up to the deck. Their mother held up a camera, and the two of them struck a pose, Kyle pulling out one of his seven varieties of future GQ cover looks. Belinda leaned heavily into one hip and sucked in her cheekbones.
She was suddenly all emotional. There was a time when she was sandwiched between Kyle and Mark on this very deck, posing just like that. "Mark would be so happy," she said, brushing a tear that slipped down her cheek.
Even Kyle's eyes were moist and he just nodded.
"You ready, son?" Their dad squinted up at them from the dock. Kyle nodded the affirmative and helped his mom on board.
Belinda waved Bennett up. He'd been standing off to the side, looking a little awkward, but she grabbed his hand when he climbed up, and pulled him into a seat on the deck next to her. He had his camera bag slung over his shoulder. He'd brought it himself without any prompting from her.
She couldn't even remember the last time she'd been out like this–on a boat in the absolute most perfect weather. She'd been concerned Kyle might be rusty on what to do. But as soon as his hands grazed the wheel, it was like no time had passed. Kyle–her Kyle–was back.
The mainsail, which was black, rippled out in its full glory when they struck out beyond the bay into the open ocean. Belinda clapped as it billowed and snapped in the wind. Kyle brushed hair out of his face, his cheeks pink with exertion, his arm muscles taut from the workout.
"This is a lot harder than I remember!" he yelled over the wind.
"You'll get used to it!" She held on as they tilted into the wind, rounding land to their right–starboard side, excuse her–and plowed head on into the waves. Spray shot up as the swells crashed and broke against the boat. Wind whipped through her hair and spray glistened on her skin. There was nothing like this.
Belinda couldn't suppress the satisfied, and relieved, smile that swept through her whole body, not j
ust her face. "It's time to go shopping!"
Bennett adjusted his camera lens, a metal cast on his middle finger. "With you, it's always time for that."
"We're invited to the Anderson's blowout summer party. Every prominent Portside family will be there. So I need a new dress and you need a new suit."
"I have a new suit."
Belinda narrowed her eyes, assuming he meant the designer suit he wore when she saw him with Alexa. "Then you need another new suit. We're going to have a lot of events to attend. You don't want to wear the same thing to all of them."
She could tell he was suppressing a smile. Fine. Let him be amused by her jealousy.
"I know you don't have the money for anything extra right now," she continued, "so it's on me. And don't bother arguing because you won't win."
Bennett lowered his camera. "Yes, ma'am."
"Don't be smart or I'll take back my present." After selling some of her designer shoes and clothes at the consignment shop, Belinda bought Bennett a new kayak. She'd left it in Bennett's garage for him to find when he got home from work.
"You know, I'm starting to realize I could get used to this."
"Get used to what?"
"Having a sugar mama."
"Well, if you're going to have one, then it's going to be me." And not Alexa. She'd sell everything she owned before she let that happen.
Interestingly, Bennett had never brought up what Colleen had said about his retirement, and for the time being, Belinda had decided to leave it that way. She'd tell him about the PI eventually, but not right now.
Bennett grinned. "It's too bad I probably won't need one for much longer."
Belinda pushed hair out of her eyes so she could see him. "New prospects?"
"New old prospects."
"New old prospects?"
"Yeah. I don't think I told you yet."
"Told me what?" He was stringing her along on purpose. His favorite thing to do other than tease her.
"I talked to my lawyer this morning."
Belinda waited, but he wanted her to run out of patience and ask, and she couldn't refuse to do so. Not with her heart thumping inside of her like a rabbit's leg. "And?"
Looking far too pleased with himself, Bennett leaned closer. "I have good news."
"Then stop stringing me along and just tell it!"
He smiled, pinching the tip of her chin. "The police are dropping the charges, and my record's going to be cleared."
She had to review what he said a couple times before she believed it. Had it worked? Had what she'd done actually worked? "Are you sure?"
Bennett laughed. "All that and you don't even believe me?"
"I do, it's just...so much has happened..." She was tearing up, and grateful she could hide behind sunglasses.
"It was worth it."
"Do you just feel that way because it's okay now?"
"Probably."
Belinda started to pull back, but he had a firm hold on her chin so she couldn't go far.
"But I couldn't stay away from you no matter what," he said.
"It's my cupcakes. They make men say things like that."
"As long as by men, you mean me."
"As long as by sugar mama, you mean you don't have expensive taste."
"My expensive taste stops with you. But I may be your sugar daddy someday."
"Because of new old prospects?"
He nodded. "I have a job booked in about a month. It's not big, but it's a start."
Belinda pressed her lips into his.
"Don't get excited," he said. "I'm still a few dollar signs away from quitting the hardware store."
She kissed him again.
"I guess this means you like my news," he said when she gave him a chance to, and the opportunity didn't last long.
Nothing was ever guaranteed. But for the rest of that afternoon, life was just as it should be. Wonderful.
~ *~
The Belinda & Bennett Mysteries
Cliffhanger (Book One)
Auf'd (Book Two)
Coming Soon…
Overkill (Book Four)
Other Titles by Amy Saunders
Biohazard
The Jester's Apprentice
Dead Locked
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About the Author
Amy Saunders is a mystery lover with a soft spot for humor and romance–and the ocean. She lives in Massachusetts, and loves to bake and watch movies. She's the author of one mystery series and three standalone mysteries. Learn more about Amy and her books at her website.
