and pepper. She liked it almost inedible to most tastes. The first time her friends had watched her doctor her Subway sandwich they’d nearly fallen over in shock. Of course, it could’ve also been for the fact that she was eating a full six-inch instead of cutting it in half to save for the following day. She sank her teeth into the sandwich and groaned in happiness. “What makes you think Lilah is bothered by something?” she asked around the bite in her mouth. “She seemed okay to me yesterday.”
Actually, that wasn’t entirely true, now that she thought about it. But then Lilah had always orbited her own planet and no one thought to question her flight pattern. Lindy loved her twin desperately, but she did worry about her at times. She’d tried to get her to move to Los Angeles, but even as the offer had fallen from her mouth she knew that was never going to happen. Lilah in Los Angeles would be like feeding a lamb to the lions. She’d stick out like a sore thumb in Lindy’s circles; worse, some sleazy producer type might try to sleep with her. Lindy sighed and took another bite. “Yeah,” she repeated, mostly to herself. “I’ll talk to her, Pops.”
“I knew I could count on you.” He rose from the table and tossed his trash, then brushed a quick, smacking kiss on her cheek. She smiled at the contact and watched as he went on his merry way, likely to go find his wife.
How did someone lose their grip on reality like Pops? He seemed completely lucid, unless you considered the fact that he held conversations with a woman who’d been dead for almost ten years. It broke her heart, but what could she do? Pushing reality on him seemed to make it worse—Lora had learned that the hard way—but eventually his grip on everything was going to slip, right? She hated to think of that moment, so she didn’t. Finishing her sandwich, she burped with total satisfaction just as Lora walked in and gave her a disgusted look. “What? In Europe that’s considered a compliment to the chef.”
“We’re not in Europe,” Lora reminded her. “Hey, I’m glad I found you. We’re going to have a family meeting tonight to discuss the situation with Larimar. It’s time to start implementing some strategies.”
She groaned at the overly bright light in Lora’s eyes. In her previous life—before she lost her job and Heath dragged her back to St. John to help fix this mess facing the resort—she’d been something of a marketing shark. And judging by the look on her face, she missed the action. Likely, if she saw a spreadsheet she’d shudder with ecstasy. But Lindy wasn’t hardwired that way. She hated the words marketing strategy, loss leader and anything that would compel someone to open an Excel spreadsheet. But she hadn’t returned home to hang out and spruce up her Caribbean tan. She was here to pitch in. More’s the pity. She sighed grumpily. “What time?”
Pleased with the fact that Lindy hadn’t tried to get out of it, Lora actually smiled as she grabbed a banana on the go. “How about seven? That way dinner is out of the way.”
“Good. And drinks can follow,” Lindy quipped, adding drily, “and they should. Lots of them if we’re going to get through the evening without killing one another.”
Lora’s smile faded, but she didn’t call Lindy out for her bad attitude. Thank God for small favors. Lindy wasn’t in the mood to start a word war with her older sister.
“Did you apologize to Mr. Weston?”
Lindy chewed her bottom lip as she quickly processed an easy answer to her sister’s pointed question. She could tell the truth, but then that would lead to all sorts of exclamations and recriminations over her bad attitude and the consequences of her sharp tongue—blah, blah, blah—and since it had all turned out fine in the end...
“Yep,” Lindy answered with a short smile.
“Good.” Lora smiled, seeming relieved. “I have to confess I was a little worried you might make things worse.”
Lindy scowled. “If you thought that, why’d you insist I apologize?”
Lora’s smile widened. “It was a leap of faith. I think.”
Lindy bit back the sarcasm dancing on her tongue. She supposed she couldn’t be too peeved; in a way her sister’s fear had been accurate. But at least Lindy had managed to fix things, and that’s what counted anyway.
“One less reason to worry. Thanks, Lindy,” Lora said and breezed from the room.
Lindy rubbed her full stomach and headed to her room to grab her iPod. She was hoping to catch some rays before the day was finished, and the sun was quickly sinking into the horizon.
Of course, as luck would have it, that was not in the cards.
“Miss Bell?” A voice called out at her back and she grimaced, recognizing the firm timbre as belonging to Carys’s father, Gabe Weston. She pivoted on her heel and pasted on a perfunctory smile for his benefit in an effort to be nice.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“I wondered if I might talk to you for a minute.... It’s about Carys.”
A ripple of unease followed. “What’s wrong? Everything okay? What’s the kid done now?”
“Nothing,” he answered with a faint scowl.
“Oh, c’mon. You and I both know the kid’s got devil juice running through her veins. Don’t get me wrong...I like her, but...yeah, she’s a handful. We pulled out another tie, by the way. Would you like me to show you the plumber’s bill now or later?”
“Another one?”
“Well, to be fair, we think it was part of the original batch she sent whizzing down our pipes, but it got stuck and the plumber managed to fish it out. Something tells me you aren’t going to want it back.”
“Ah...sorry about that. Send me the bill. I’ll cover it.”
“Oh, it’s on your bill,” she assured him with a smile. “At this rate, the plumber is going to send you a fruit basket in appreciation.”
At his sharp look, her grin brightened and he faltered, clearly not quite sure what to think of her. She didn’t hold his confusion against him. Most people didn’t know what to think of her. It was part of her charm. At least, that was how she liked to think of it. He recovered after a moment and returned to his original train of thought. “Listen, my daughter seems to have taken a shine to you....”
“Yeah? That’s cool. I take back what I said about the devil juice. She’s obviously a kid with a great judge of character.”
“Uh...yeah, about that,” he continued, uncomfortable. “Here’s the thing, I’m just going to give it to you straight—”
“Great. I hate when people blow smoke up my ass. Makes me burp.”
At that he almost laughed and she was struck by how handsome he could be when he wasn’t acting like a stiff jackass. She regarded him with as much seriousness as she could muster. She was already bored with the conversation—mostly because she had a feeling whatever he was struggling to tell her wasn’t going to make her feel all warm and fuzzy inside—and she wanted to get it over with.
“You have to understand, my daughter is very impressionable and it’s not personal, really, but—”
“Oh wait, this sounds like a ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ conversation, which is funny because we’re
