Sunset Beach(3)

He stood by the driver’s side, looking puzzled. “You’re getting in the backseat?”

“No,” Drue said, carefully stretching the seat belt across the bronze urn. “Mom is.”



* * *



When the waitress brought their drinks Drue knocked back half her margarita in one gulp.

Brice sipped his martini and rearranged the silverware on the tabletop.

“Can I ask you something without your getting pissed at me?”

“Maybe.”

He pointed at her right leg, with the knee ensconced in the hideous brace.

“What happened there?”

“I had a kiteboarding accident. Right after Mom got diagnosed.”

“So you’re still into that? Guess it wasn’t a phase after all, huh?”

Kiteboarding had been a major source of friction between Drue and Brice and her stepmother. Joan had objected to the cost of her board and kite (although it was money Drue earned from working at a surf shop), her kiteboarding friends (an admittedly motley-looking crew) and, especially, her obsession with the sport—to the detriment of her already mediocre grades.

Drue chewed the inside of her cheek. “Definitely not a phase. How is Joan, by the way?”

He picked the olive from his drink, chewed, and smiled bitterly. “Let’s see. She soaked me for a waterfront house, a new car and attorney’s fees to keep both Kyler and Kayson out of prison. Last I heard she’d moved up the marital food chain and married an orthopedic surgeon. So, I’d say she’s doing great.”

“So you two split up? Sorry to hear that.”

He sipped his martini. “No, you’re not.”

“That’s true. She never liked me, and the feeling was mutual.”

He started to say something, stopped, shook his head and took another sip of his martini.

“You said you had some business to discuss with me?” Drue prompted.

“That’s right.” He reached into the inside pocket of his blazer and brought out a key ring with a tacky pink plastic flamingo fob. Two keys dangled from the ring. He slid the key ring across the table toward his daughter.

“What’s this?”

“It’s the key to Coquina Cottage.”

“Nonni and Papi’s house? The old place on Sunset Beach? I thought Mom sold it after Nonni died.”

“She almost did, but in the end, she decided to keep it. I think maybe she thought one day the two of you would move back and live there. Anyway, it’s yours now.”

Drue picked up the key ring and turned it over and over. “You’re serious? For real? Like, I own Papi’s cottage?”

“You do,” Brice said. “Before you get too excited, though, I should warn you it’s in pretty rough shape. The last tenant lived there for six or seven years, and he was kind of a hoarder. He always paid his rent on time and never had any complaints about the place, so I sort of let things slide. It wasn’t until last year, after the hurricane damaged the roof and the old guy moved out, that we realized how bad things had gotten.”

Drue’s eyes filled with unexpected tears. “Mom never said a word. All those years, she drove crappy secondhand cars and we lived in shithole apartments. She could have sold that place—it’s right on the Gulf, right? I bet it was worth a lot of money. I can’t believe she hung on to Papi’s house.”

“Your mom was never the sentimental type, as you know, but I think she regarded the cottage as her legacy to you. It was the one thing of value in her life. Well, that and her daughter.”

Not trusting herself to speak, Drue could only stare down at the keys.

“What are your plans now?” Brice asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Things are kind of up in the air right now.”

“Sherri said you’ve been waitressing at a bar?”

“That’s right.”

His raised eyebrow spoke volumes.

“And … no romantic ties keeping you here in Fort Lauderdale?”

She scowled. Since Trey, her faithless boyfriend, had been a no-show at the funeral, she’d already relegated him to ex-boyfriend status. “Are you deliberately gloating over the fact that I’m thirty-six and have a shitty job and no life?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “I was going to offer you a job, but obviously that’s a deeply offensive move on my part.”

“A job? Doing what?”

“Working at the law firm. We’ve affiliated with half a dozen boutique personal injury firms in the Southeast in the past year. Business is crazy good. Another firm in town just poached my most senior intake associate. I’m really shorthanded.”

“No thanks,” Drue said firmly. “I have no interest in moving back to St. Pete and zero interest in the law.”

“You mean, zero interest in working for me.”

Her eyes met his. “That too. Sorry. I mean, I appreciate the offer. And your coming over for Mom’s funeral. And letting me know about the cottage. Thanks. I really mean it.” She looked down at her watch. “Can you get the check now? I’ve got to work tonight.”

He let out a long sigh. “You’re as goddamn stubborn as she was. More, even.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Drue said.