Down and Out in Flamingo Beach (9 page)

Twenty minutes later the nurse stood at the entrance beckoning to her. Dr. Ben, still in his scrubs, waited in front of the nurses' station.

“Your grandmother did well,” he hastened to assure Joya before going on to explain in layman's terms how he'd unblocked her arteries. “Sometimes seniors take a bit longer to recover from anesthesia. I recommended she remain in recovery until she's fully alert. Take off and do what you need to do, then come back and visit later. We'll contact you if we need you.”

“You're telling me the absolute truth?” Joya asked, searching Dr. Ben's face for evidence that he was not being straight with her.

Dr. Benjamin squeezed her shoulder. “I'm telling you the absolute truth. Go do what you need to do. Your grandmother will be here waiting.”

“Thanks, Doctor Ben.”

Assured that her grandmother was resting comfortably, Joya made the journey across town as quickly as possible running every amber light she encountered. There were a few browsing customers in the store when she arrived so she kept herself busy checking the supply room and the inventory, making note of stock that was running low so that she could talk to Granny J about reordering.

Finally there was a lull in business and she was able to speak with Portia.

“How did it go with Molly Williams?”

“I was able to delay her coming by,” Portia said. “She wasn't real happy. I told her you weren't here and I didn't feel comfortable collecting money from her since I didn't know how much she owed. I told her you would call her later.”

“That was quick thinking on your part. Where's the damaged quilt?”

“In the bag.” Portia bent over and found the brown paper bag where she'd stashed it. She placed it on the counter. “Take a look. Tell me what you think.”

Joya reached inside to remove the comforter that had been carefully folded. She shook the material out. Sure enough, the quilt had huge gashes in it and looked like a maniac had gone to work on it with a pair of scissors. It was beyond repair.

Okay, the first step was to call Eileen Brown, the woman who'd made it. Joya reached for the phone. After a few rings, Eileen's machine came on. Joya left a message.

“Molly Williams will probably be calling you soon,” Portia reminded her.

“Until I hear back from Eileen I'm going to have to ask you to hold her off. Just say I can't be reached, and that I'll get back to her as soon as I can.”

“What are you going to do?” Portia asked. “What
can
you do?” The college student's voice wobbled and her jerky movements indicated how nervous she was.

“Talk to Eileen and verify that she gave me the quilt in good condition. Then ask her to take a look and see if any of it is salvageable. Find out how long it will take to make another one.”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Yes, I think I do, but if I enlist the help of the guild we may be able to turn another one out in record time. It'll cost me, but it's better than having the store's reputation ruined.”

The phone rang and both women reached for it.

Portia was quicker.

“Hello.” She listened for a bit before covering the mouthpiece and holding the receiver out. “It's for you. It's your supervisor from L.A. International.”

Joya felt her mouth go dry. This could mean only one thing; the airline wanted her back at work.

It couldn't come at a worse time. In addition to everything else, she probably had a life-changing decision to make.

Taking a deep breath, and preparing herself for the worst, Joya took the phone.

“H
ello, this is Joya.” Joya sucked in a breath, waited for the next shoe to drop.

“This is Sara Watkins, your supervisor. I thought I would check in with you and see how you're coming along.”

“It's not been an easy few months,” Joya said and waited.

A long pause followed. A palpable pause then finally. “I can't extend your leave past the time we agreed to. L.A. International has just signed a contract with the military for several charters. We need everybody we can get back. We're actually canceling leaves of absence.”

“How long do I have?”

“According to my paperwork, at the most another couple of weeks,” Sara said, sounding more friendly. She wasn't a bad person, she just had a job to do.

“And then?”

“After that you'll have to resign.”

Bam!

Joya was close to hyperventilating. It was ultimatum time and she'd just been given one.

“My grandmother just underwent major surgery,” she pleaded. “I am the only person she has. At least, her only relative in the state of Florida.”

“I wish I could help,” Sara said, “But you've already extended your leave three times. A personal leave became a hardship leave and then it became an emergency leave. You've been gone over six months. L.A. International needs you back.”

“And if I tender my resignation?” Joya asked.

“At least you'd be eligible for rehire. You've got eight years seniority, hardly something to sneeze at.”

“I understand. I'm at the hospital right now. I'll have to get back to you.”

For a long time after she hung up, Joya sat holding the phone in her hand.

Decisions. She'd have to make a few, but regardless, she would do the right thing by Granny J. Without her she would be nowhere.

 

The work at All About Flowers was moving along right on schedule and Derek was pleased. Bringing the job in on time meant a bonus for him, money he planned on using either to fix up Nana Belle's house or invest in her party.

As he stood on the top of the ladder looking down at new wooden floors the crew had just laid, Preston Shore walked in.

“Hey Preston, have a minute?” Derek called to the contractor from his perch. “I want to talk to you about starting work at Joya's Quilts.”

Preston removed his hard hat and squinted up at Derek. He'd come by to inspect the workmanship at the shop, and judging by his wide smile he seemed happy with the results.

“I thought I gave it the go-ahead? Once we finish up here we were going to start work on Joya's.” He waved expansively at the interior of the flower shop. “Great job, guys.”

Derek, realizing one of the owners, Chet Rabinowitz, was listening to every word, slowly came down the ladder and faced Preston.

“It's almost lunchtime anyway. How about you and me grab a quick sandwich and we can talk about Joya's?”

“Quills is right next door,” Preston suggested. “Afterward we can see how work is progressing at the Vintage Place.”

“Hallelujah!” Chet exclaimed, confirming he was eavesdropping. “Granny J finally agreed to fix up that old place, and about time I say.”

Preston didn't dignify it with a comment. He said to the crew still working, “Carry on with what you're doing and break for lunch as scheduled. Derek and I are stepping out.”

Derek waited until they were on their way over before bringing up Joya's again.

“I'd like to start work on the quilt shop next week. It should only take a couple of men to finish up the flower shop.”

“Ms. Joya have anything to do with this sudden enthusiasm?”

Derek stabbed an index finger at him and cut his eyes. “How many times have I told you I'm not looking to get involved? The woman is beautiful, but she's high-maintenance and quite bossy. She would be looking to fix me. I like myself just the way I am.”

“Whatever you say.”

Derek decided to ignore his friend's pointed smirk. Preston was acting like he knew something Derek didn't. Derek allowed him to enter Quill's first. They sauntered past the stationary and to the back where the café was and looked around for seats.

All the bistro tables were taken, and even the eight tables on the outdoor patio were full. A harried waitress weighted down by a heavy tray brushed by them as several patient customers craned their heads. Just then two men slid off stools at the counter.

“Better move quickly,” Preston said, dashing over. “You snooze, you lose.”

They grabbed the vacated seats and menus were quickly slapped down in front of them. The owner was also the chef and this might have added to the confusion. After some time a put-upon waitress poured them water and the men made their selections. Deciding the place was either short-staffed or hadn't anticipated a crowd, they prepared for a long wait.

It was an interesting group at lunch, hardly a local to be found. Derek remembered a time when the only tourists that sleepy Flamingo Beach ever saw were families from up north looking to rent cabins, fish and stroll the boardwalk. Times were indeed changing.

“I'm going to need a deposit from Joya's Quilts before we get started,” Preston said. “You know the routine. Collect enough to buy supplies and some. We'll need either Joya or Granny J to sign the paperwork stating what they've agreed to have done.”

Derek squinted at Preston. “I thought you were handling the administrative end.”

“No, you are. You're in training. These are all the things that will be expected of you when you own and run your own construction company.” Preston winked at him. “And by the way, you can start your negotiations now. Young Joya just walked in and she has one of her employees with her.”

Despite not wanting to gawk, Derek swiveled his stool to stare in the direction Preston was looking. Joya stood at the entrance of the café with a young girl with waist-length braids at her side. They looked around for an available table.

“Food's here. Sorry it took me so long,” the waitress said, slapping down Preston's burger and fries and Derek's turkey sandwich with coleslaw on the side. “We're short-staffed.”

Derek stared at his food. He didn't want to talk contracts now. The woman was there to have lunch. Preston was being conniving and trying to push them together. Well it wouldn't work. He'd slipped earlier that week and kissed her, but, hell, she'd looked so good. Can't blame a guy for reacting like any healthy red-blooded guy would. But it couldn't happen again. From now on his dealings with Joya Hamill would be kept strictly professional.

As Derek finished his turkey sandwich, he and Preston discussed the job at the Flamingo Beach Spa and Resort that they were bidding on. Preston wanted it badly, but Derek wasn't so sure. He had the feeling the resort people would be bears to work for. But the money was good.

“This developer Rowan James is buying up land like crazy,” Preston said. “Last I heard he bought that prime piece of real estate at the end of the boardwalk. Some say he's going to create an indoor mall, one of those super malls with movie theaters, restaurants and nightclubs. The town is violently opposed to it and petitions are already circulating.”

“I see both sides,” Derek said. “We're talking mall here. This is the kind of project that will change the face of Flamingo Beach, and not necessarily for the better. It will bring in money for the city, but at the same time it's going to attract a lot of hustlers. Anything money-making does.”

“I'm thinking revenue,” Preston countered. “People drive to Pelican Island if they want to see a current movie. Only in Flamingo Beach would a cinema open only in the evenings and the same show run for a month. We're not at all forward-thinking. We have Mayor Rabinowitz to blame for that. The money our citizens shell out should be spent right here.”

“A nightclub is going to attract some undesirable types,” Derek cautioned. “Even gangs. When you get a party crowd, there's excessive drinking, drugs and crime.”

“Jeez, Derek you're beginning to sound like our parents.” Preston gave Derek a friendly poke with his finger.

It was a sobering thought, since Derek's parents were long gone. Both had literally died from overwork. It was another reason he was determined to be his own boss and call his own shots. He planned on living to a ripe old age. His retirement was going to be exactly that: a time when he put his feet up and didn't have to worry about money.

By an unspoken agreement they removed bills from their wallets and slapped them down. Joya and her companion were now seated at a table in the middle of the room. Preston, of course, chose to take the long route out. He passed Joya's table and slowed down.

“How's your grandmother?” he asked.

Joya used a napkin to wipe her mouth. “She came out of the operation just fine. How are you, Preston, Derek?”

How was he? His body was telling him he was very happy to see her. He just hoped she couldn't tell.

“Great. Preston and I were just discussing starting work on your place. Does next Monday sound good to you?”

“The sooner the better. Business is picking up and by the time the centennial celebrations roll around it should be even better. Granny's store needs to be a showplace by then.”

“You two should talk,” Preston said. “Derek, you stop by later with the paperwork and work out the details about what needs doing.”

Damn Preston. He'd just put him in a spot, one that it would be hard to wiggle out of. He would kill him when he got him outside.

“I'll come by right before closing time,” Derek said since he had no choice.

“Tomorrow might be better,” Joya said, those huge gray eyes clouding over. “I'm leaving early today. I'm going to the hospital to check on Gran.”

“Saturday will work just as well. Won't it, Derek?”

“Sure will.”

Outside, Preston said to Derek, “What's with you? Here's this fine woman who's single, smart and in shape, and you drag your feet. Man, I'd be jumping all over her.”

Derek snorted. “I have my priorities, and I don't want to get off track. Nana's house comes first. Until it gets fixed, and I have my own construction company up and running, romance has to wait.”

“Who's talking romance?” Preston lobbed back. “I'm talking getting laid.”

“Plenty of that around for the taking. If I were looking for an activity partner I'd be all over Sheena Grace.”

Preston threw his hands in the air. “Whatever.”

They headed into the Vintage Place. Derek didn't think Preston would give up, but for now the conversation had been tabled.

For the rest of the day, he concentrated on Chet's leaking skylights and water-stained ceiling. At the end of the day most of what needed to be done was done. Derek assigned three men to come in during the weekend to take care of the baseboards, complete the painting and replace the lighting fixtures. Then on Monday the crew would be ready to take on Joya's Quilts.

“I'm going home,” Derek said to Preston when his boss asked him to a happy hour. There was a bathroom at Belle's that needed his attention. The tub, washbasin and fixtures needed replacing. He planned to stop at the hardware store first before joining Nana Belle for supper. Repairing that house had become his second job.

On a Friday evening, Harry's Hardware wasn't too crowded. Derek was able to pick up the items he needed and get out of there in record time.

This time Belle heard him before he could put his key in the lock.

“That you, hon?” she called in her croaky smoker's voice.

“Yes, it's me.”

“We've been holding mail for you,” her aide Mari said. “The mailman made us sign for it.”

Mari was no lightweight. Derek could hear the floorboards creaking as she left Nana Belle's room and made her way out.

Derek had had all of his mail forwarded to him from Chicago. For the most part it was all junk, but if a signature was required it had to be important.

Mari waved an official-looking white envelope at him. Derek took it from her, glanced at the sender's address, frowned and set it on the coffee table to be dealt with later. He couldn't imagine what his old company wanted with him.

“Aren't you going to open it?” Mari nudged. “Belle and I have been wondering what's so important that it would require a signature.”

“I'll get to it later. How did my favorite lady do today?”

“She's been smoking non-stop but that's nothing new.”

“Has she eaten?”

“I got her to swallow maybe a couple of tablespoons of grits and she did drink a nutritional milkshake.”

“She'll need to eat dinner. I'm counting on you.”

“Stop talking about me,” Nana croaked from her back room. “I'm still alive. If you have something to say you might as well say it to my face.”