Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Until now, apparently.
“So, that’s it.” Just like that.
“Yes, just millions of dollars lost in design later,” he mutters under his breath, but then he exhales, as if trying to expel his bitterness. “You were right. I do owe you for what you did in Alaska. For risking your life for me. And you’ve never asked me for anything. So, I will make sure Sloane’s interests are protected with any future plans, and you can play house or whatever the fuck it is you plan on doing with her. But consider us even.”
“Fair enough.” I guess my groveling made an impact after all.
“I need to get back to people.” He peers up at the house again. “But I think Abbi would rather be with her friends than listening to Shelby Singer describe in excruciating detail the intricacies of herding ducks.”
A bark of laughter escapes me. “I am not going to miss that.”
“Get her back safely, please.”
“Of course.”
With one last glance to his wife, Henry trudges back the way he came.
And I move swiftly for the house, barely able to contain my excitement to share the news with Sloane.
A cringe-inducing caw screeches into the night.
“And get rid of that fucking thing!” Henry’s voice booms in the darkness.
I laugh. “Can’t. Ralph stays. He’s family.”
30. Sloane
The hefty green wing chair is against the window facing out, and all I can see is an elbow and a ball of yellow yarn on the floor beside her.
Hey, Gigi,” I call out as we step into her room.
“Sloane? I wasn’t expecting you today.”
“I know, but I got off work early.”
A wrinkled hand reaches out to collect a wad of bills from the table beside her. She waves it in the air. “I won a hundred and fifty bucks off those feckless twats, Larry and Hank. I let them think they’re sharks, but I’m the real shark.”
Behind me, Ronan chuckles.
“Is that Frank?”
“No, it’s Ronan.”
A pause and then, “Well, don’t just stand there. Help an old girl out. They pushed me in here too close, and now I’m trapped!”
Ronan swiftly rounds me. “Hold on tight.” Seizing the top corners of the headrest, he tips the chair back just enough to swivel it around on its hind legs, earning a whooping sound from Gigi.
“There, that’s better.” She abandons her knitting project and smooths her hands over her pale blue slacks. Someone’s pleated her hair today and secured a small yellow butterfly clip above her left ear. “Now, where were we? Let’s get a good look at you, young man.” Her blue eyes lift to appraise Ronan’s face. “Huh. You are as handsome as in the pictures Sloane showed me.”
“She showed you pictures of me?” Amusement laces his voice.
“Yes, from the Henry Wolf file.”
Ronan’s eyebrows pop as he regards me. “She has a Henry Wolf file?”
“Had. Hush, Gigi.” I dangle the small paper bag of scones in the air before setting it on the small table beside her.
“I think my granddaughter is trying to buy my silence.” Her bony fingers peel open the folded top enough to lean forward and inhale the fresh-baked scent. “It’s working.”
I laugh. “Okay, officially, Gigi, this is Ronan. Ronan, this is Gigi.”
“The Original Sea Witch,” Ronan says, and a wave of déjà vu hits me then, bringing me back to the day he walked into the rental shop.
“Now, just an old witch.” A mischievous spark ignites. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Not as much as I’ve heard about you,” he counters.
“Well, pull up a chair, and let’s compare notes, then.” She gestures toward a nearby stool. “Hope you brought a scone of your own because I don’t share. Not unless Nurse Ratched shows up, and then this is all yours.”
I can barely contain my excitement as I reach forward and collect his hand. “He will, but first, Gigi, there’s something we want to tell you.”
October
“Frank, can you bring the ladder around back when you have a sec?” I holler, knowing he can hear me from his trailer’s stoop where he sits, scattering corn for the hens before work.
“For what?”
“Just bring it, please?” The shed is behind Rainbow Alley, and the ladder is long and awkward.
Heavy footfalls sound as he trudges around to find me standing at the foot of the porch.
“Where’s the ladder?”
“Where it belongs until I know why a pregnant woman needs a ladder to do yoga,” he throws back, nodding to the mat stretched out on the sandy ground.
I point up. “Because that siding looks loose.” The hurricane that came through west of Mermaid Beach last week brought plenty of rain and wind with it. The guys have been cleaning up downed branches around the property for days.
He follows my aim. “Okay, so then I’ll go up and take a look at it when I’m back later. Or get Ronan’s ass up. Does he know what you’re doing out here?”