Stranger on the Shore (Mirabelle Harbor, Book 4) (29 page)

She sighed. “Not insane at all... although, dammit. I’m going to miss you if you stay in Florida.”

“Well, if things don’t work out, I might be back in Mirabelle Harbor before you know it.” I paused. “To be honest, Olivia, other than being geographically closer to my daughter, the only part of my old life that even makes me consider returning home is your friendship. I’m not willing to let that go.”

“Oh, Marianna. I wouldn’t let you. We’ll have a strong friendship always, whether you’re living in Mirabelle Harbor or in Siesta Key or in a frozen dome on Pluto. Although, I’m going to have to lobby the staff at Not the Same Old Grind to sell their coffee in bean form, so I can ship a few bags of it to you at your new address. We can each brew a pot and have our coffee dates over the phone.”

“Deal. And I’ve got the perfect treat to go with our coffee! There’s a shop nearby called Fudge Fantasia. I’ll have to ship some of that up to
you
.”

She laughed. “Then let’s hurry and set up our first long-distance coffee date. I’m already seriously excited to try that fudge... ”

Sandcastles in the Air... and Gifts by the Shore

G
il pulled out his paints.

He’d been raised to be a corporate suit, but he’d turned his back on that lifestyle for the freedom and creativity of being an artist. In the end, though, he found his surprising professional niche by combining unique artistic creations with sales and business. If anyone knew it was possible to bridge two very different worlds and be successful at it, he did.

But it took balance.

Tonight, he needed to stop everything, find that quiet center within, and just paint.

It’d been late when he returned from the Art Gala and from talking one on one with Peter Barrett. He’d dragged every detail he could wrangle from the guy about his father and the directives his old man had given Peter with regards to Joy’s bracelets.

Yes, their dad had specifically sent Peter in search of them.

Yes, once Peter learned of the B.E.A.D.S. project, he’d been instructed to offer Joy a deal she couldn’t refuse.

And, yes, the promised donation really was made to her endangered species cause.

But, no, Peter wasn’t supposed to date her, let alone fall head over heels for her.

And, no, he wasn’t going to hide the fact that Joy and Gil had found out about their dad’s involvement in all of this, even though Peter said he’d probably lose his job as a result.

“My discretion was one of the biggest rules of this assignment,” he admitted. “Even though using the logo had been your father’s choice—and that was what tipped you off—it had been my responsibility to ensure neither you nor your sister learned about Naturalacrity’s origins. If one of you guessed or even had suspicions, I was directed to lie, which was why I avoided you and ignored your calls and emails before the Art Gala, Gil.” He frowned. “Sorry, man.”

Gil didn’t immediately accept his apology but, eventually, he offered to buy Peter a beer at the nearest bar. The two of them sat there for hours, getting to know each other for real for the first time and, after a bit, their talk turned to women.

“Don’t give up on Joy,” Gil found himself telling the guy. “She’s gonna need some space for a while, though. She’s always had a forgiving heart, but these machinations of our father’s... well, they’ve taken their toll.” He shrugged. “No matter how good you say his intentions might have been—and the jury’s still out on that verdict—his interference took something valuable from her. The pride she has in her work, for instance. Being a respected and recognized craftswoman on her own merit. The sense of accomplishment in ‘making it’ by herself. Some people might welcome having a relative with tons of money who could buy their way to the top. Joy’s not one of them.”

“Yeah. I figured that out.”

“Also, she’s my kid sister. And, be advised, I
will
be watching your every move. Especially now, after all of this.”

“Yeah. I figured that out, too,” Peter said with a laugh. He raised his beer to Gil and the two of them clinked bottles and drank.

They ordered another round. And then one more.

Sometime after the third beer, Gil shared with Peter a little about his relationship with Marianna. How he didn’t want her to leave, but he couldn’t offer her anything definite to make her stay. He wasn’t about to promise her something he couldn’t keep.

Peter thought about this. “Could you tell her what you
are
able to promise? And do you even know yet what that is? Like, maybe, you know it’s not getting engaged or married or anything that serious yet, but it’s more of a willingness to be open to her ideas or to spending time with her, you know? You should figure out what you can realistically promise and offer her that.”

The cut-to-the-chase simplicity of Peter’s suggestion stayed with him through the evening. And when he walked into his townhouse, he fed Nancy, changed into his painting clothes, and got to work.

He might, if he was lucky, be able to stumble through some sort of lame speech to Marianna about how much she meant to him. And, eventually... hopefully... convey a fraction of his feelings to her. But wouldn’t it just be better to show her?

After all, everybody knew that a picture could paint a thousand words. And Gil was good at painting pictures.

But the pressure was on. He needed this one to be perfect.

~*~

I
had so much to plan, arrange, and reorganize—and only a few days to do it—so taking time to stroll aimlessly on the beach and practice breathing calmly should’ve been about the last thing on my day’s agenda. But Gil had reminded me incessantly of the importance of taking time to center myself and listen to my inner voice.

His words—like the rest of him—had left a lasting impression on me.

And, since I was about to take a life-altering step, it was probably wise for me to make sure I was making these decisions for the right reasons, yes?

My conversation with Olivia had helped a lot, though. If she didn’t think I was insane, then I must not be. At least not entirely. I knew there was still quite a lot to reflect upon, however.

“Hey, there, girlie,” Vivian called. She was dressed in her usual white-on-white attire, complete with a hat, pausing in her power walk to downshift to my tortoise speed. “Haven’t seen you out here for a while. Thought, maybe, you’d already gone back to your home.”

I shook my head and began to explain to her about Joy’s B.E.A.D.S. project and how I’d gotten involved with it, about my friends in St. Armand’s Circle, and about meeting Gil. “The experiences I’ve had here are changing my life and the dreams I had for it.” I picked up a small banded tulip shell half-buried in the sand, wondering where its original inhabitant had gone. Perhaps, like me, the sea creature had just needed a new place to call home.

“Nothing wrong with having new plans and big dreams, girlie.” She squeezed my arm with surprising strength and winked at me. “Just build them on something solid. You know, make sure your sandcastles have a good foundation.”

We chatted for a while longer about nothing much—the weather, the pretty shells—but there was a profound pleasure in this seemingly mundane exchange. A comfortable rapport that I knew I could easily slip into again and again without tiring of it.

Vivian soon headed on her way down the beach, moving at a clip that would have left me winded and wheezing. I hoped I could be a bit like her when I got a few decades older.

I splashed at a significantly slower pace through the lattice edges of the water meeting the sand, trying to match my inhales and exhales with the movement of the waves. And, naturally, thinking of Gil.

Seven weeks ago, I never would have thought my life could feel so open to possibilities, but being here reignited my desires, in more ways than one. As I gazed out across the Gulf—another brilliant, blue-sky day—I felt the intoxicating gratitude of being given a second chance at love and at life. I was thankful for the physical passion Gil stirred in me, of course, but, even more, for the mental and spiritual reawakening he and my friends helped to facilitate.

Perhaps Gil didn’t have much faith himself in love, commitment, or marriage—I could understand that—but his honesty, compassion, and kind treatment toward everyone gave some of that faith back to
me
. Restoring that belief had been my most secret and long-held fantasy, so Gil had given me a truly priceless gift.

As if summoned by my imagination, I could almost hear his voice calling my name. Weird. Then, a few seconds later, I heard it again and realized it wasn’t just my brain playing tricks. Gil was really here at the beach, too.

I scanned the faces of all the strangers on the shore, and then I saw his now familiar form, jogging toward me across the glinting sand.

“Hello, you,” I said, picking up my pace so I could meet him halfway.

“Marianna.” He beamed one of his gorgeous grins at me. “I stopped by the bungalow first. No answer when I knocked, but your car was still parked in front, so I’d hoped you might be wandering around down here.”

“Good guess. And, oh, you’d be so proud of me. I’ve been mindfully breathing along with flow of the tide.”

He laughed and leaned down to kiss me. Warm, lovely, but far too short. I wanted to protest,
Please, keep going... or at least give me a sign, Gil, that I’m making the right choice. I think I am, but—

“I’ve got something to show you,” he said. It was then that I noticed he had a large tote bag with him, slung over his shoulder and across his back. He pulled it off and handed it to me. “I made what’s inside for you.”

I reached into the bag and lifted out the item it held—an art canvas with a stunning seaside picture painted in radiant shades of blue, turquoise, white, and cream and featuring a couple that looked a lot like us, walking hand in hand along the white-sand beach.

“Oh, Gil. It’s beautiful! Is this...
us?
”

“It is. And I painted it in acrylics so it would dry overnight. I wanted you to have it right away. I’m so glad you like it.”

“I
love
it. Thank you.”

“Marianna.” He paused. “I’m not sure how to say this. I was kinda hoping the picture would do the talking for me but, ever since we met, I’ve been thinking a lot about optimism.” He reached for my hand, which had begun to tremble at the seriousness of his tone and my worry over what it might mean. I hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“My mom couldn’t have had a more disastrous marriage and devastating divorce,” he told me. “But, yet, she never stops trying to help Joy and me find that special someone. She still very much believes in the power of true love and wants us to have that magical experience ourselves. I had my doubts about love’s power or even its existence.” He swallowed a few times. “Until I met you. Now, you’ve got me rethinking everything. There are so many new sensations I’m trying to understand. I’m feeling like a Dali painting on the inside—my heart’s melting and time has changed shape. You’ve made all the world’s colors brighter and, maybe, a little stranger.” He grinned at me, but there was tremendous emotion in his eyes. “But I like it that way, and I just—I just really,
really
wish you’d stay.”

A few tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them. Gil had given me far more than “a sign,” but that was so like him. To give me so much more than what I’d asked for, even if he didn’t know I’d made a request. I knew I didn’t need to second guess my decision for even a moment longer.

But Gil saw me crying and immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion.

“Oh, no,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you or make you sad. I just was trying to expla—”

I cut him off with a kiss. A much longer one this time.

Then, when we broke apart for air, I whispered, “I
am
staying, Gil. I was afraid to make you the sole reason for that decision because I know it’s still early in our relationship. That there are no guarantees what we’ve started will last. So I have other good reasons lined up for wanting to stay in Sarasota for a while, but the truth is that you’re the main one.”

I took a few deep breaths before I continued, a bit more confidently. “A very wise friend of mine told me that I needed to decide if what we shared was just a summer fling, or if it was something more. She said with a fling, you pack up the memories afterward and go home. But with love—or the real possibility of it—you move heaven and earth to keep it.” I looked at Gil, letting him see me with all of my passions and vulnerabilities. Hoping he could feel just how much I cared for him. “So, I’m moving. Here.”

He didn’t immediately speak, but the excited twinkle in his blue eyes, the bright smile that graced his lips, and the warmth of his body as he pulled me closer to him, all let me know this was what he’d hoped to hear.

A second later, he whooped loudly, successfully scaring a few nearby seagulls into flight. He lifted me up and twirled me in the sand, the waves lapping at our feet and the sun streaming down on us as we kissed and hugged, laughed and danced.

And then we walked together on the shore—hand in hand—talking about the future and sharing new dreams.

A
Month Later in Early September

Thanks to the help of Olivia and the Michaelsen men—who’d loaded up a big truck with my belongings from the storage unit in Mirabelle Harbor and had it sent down to Sarasota—I would soon be officially moved into my new place.

Joy and Abby had been instrumental in finding me an unfurnished condo in their complex that I could sublet for the next six months.

“Not that we’re going to let you leave Florida in March,” Joy informed me. “But we’ll help you move wherever you want to go next.”

“As long as it’s within a twenty-mile radius,” Lorelei added.

“Exactly,” Joy agreed, grinning.

All of my friends were there to lend a hand when the truck arrived. Gil, Carter, and Nick did the majority of the heavy lifting, but Abby, Lorelei, and Joy scurried around like mad, carting in boxes and helping me get things set up. Between the seven of us, the move was done in record time.