Sunshine Beach (36 page)

The front door of Franklin Realty swung open. Renée looked up and spotted Joe Giraldi.

“Welcome,” Annelise said.

If Joe was surprised to see her sister rather than Renée at the front desk, he didn't show it.

“Thank you,” he said, offering them a smile. “You're both looking well.”

Annelise preened a bit at the compliment, and Renée was thrilled to see such a normal reaction. The agent, however, didn't look his normal calm and collected self. In fact, she thought his eyes resembled those of a bear caught in a trap and unable to decide whether to stay put or gnaw off a foot to escape.

“I've been helping out,” Annelise said. “Answering phones and all.”

“It's been great having her here,” Renée said honestly. If slightly nerve-racking. Each day she waited with some trepidation for the new stronger Annelise to weaken or have some sort of meltdown, but so far she'd come in each morning as
scheduled and handled the tasks she was assigned without difficulty. She suspected that Annelise's surprise at this equaled her own.

“I heard from Officer Jackson that they were able to track down the retired agent in Arizona and that he clarified a lot of what happened the night your father died.”

“Yes.” Renée smiled. “I can't tell you how much we appreciate your help.”

Annelise nodded her agreement. “It feels as if history has been rewritten.”

“How's the renovation coming?” Joe asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

“Oh, that's done with,” Annelise replied before Renée could even think of an answer.

“They've already completed the project?” Surprise shone on his face.

“No,” Annelise said tightly. “We decided not to renovate.”

“Why not?” he asked.

Renée moved cautiously toward her sister, but Annelise said only, “Because now that I know my mother was buried there all those years, even the sight of the place hurts.”

No doubt hearing conversation, John came out of his office to investigate. He and Joe exchanged greetings.

“Your sister-in-law was just telling me you've halted the renovation,” Joe said.

“Yes,” John said. “We're going to bulldoze the buildings and list the land.”

“That's a shame.” Joe hesitated as if trying to decide whether to continue. “Not to overstep, but I have some familiarity with family members of victims looking for closure. In my experience it's not the buildings or the location where the crime took place that are the problem. It's the memories. And, of course, you carry those wherever you go.”

Annelise stiffened. Once again Renée braced for an
explosion, but her sister said simply, “And how does one handle those memories?”

Joe's smile was even, his eyes a bit less bear-in-trap as he focused on Annelise's question. “Everyone does it differently, of course. Sometimes it's by finding a way to honor the victim. Other times it's a matter of toughing it out. At some point, from what I've seen, the good memories begin to outweigh the bad. You start to remember the people you lost as they were in life and not as they became in death.” The observation was no less comforting because of its straightforwardness. Annelise's shoulders relaxed a bit, which made Renée's relax, too.

“Well said.” John motioned Joe to a wing chair and took the one opposite. Renée leaned against the edge of Annelise's desk.

“You know what I remember?” John asked quietly. “How much David Handleman loved the hotel. How glad he was to be home from Germany and a part of running it.” His smile was soft with memory. “And how much he wanted Ilse to love it, too.”

Renée nodded, caught her sister's eye. “Do you remember the sunset walks?” Once again she waited for Annelise to freeze up, shed tears, or storm out, but once again she smiled.

“You would skip ahead of us. Daddy would carry me on his shoulders and point out the dolphins when a pod would swim or feed nearby. Sometimes he'd tease us with a horseshoe crab or a clump of seaweed.” Annelise laughed softly. There was a hint of her old childish breathiness, but this child had once been happy. “Sometimes we'd just sit under the shade of an Australian pine and have a picnic.”

“Australian pines?” Joe asked.

“Yep. They used to be all over the island until the freeze of 1961. Took me decades to get used to how naked the beach looked without them,” John said.

Renée looked at her sister and the faint smile that still lingered on her lips. “The beach is just as beautiful either way.”

Annelise got up but not in order to change the subject or escape. “I'm going to fill in for a friend at the Pass-a-Grille Historical Society this afternoon.” She gave Renée a fleeting kiss on the cheek, said good-bye to Joe and John, and left. No tears, no drama.

Renée and John shared a smile.

“That's the first time she hasn't spit nails at the mention of the hotel,” John observed. “I have wondered if she'd be any happier once the place was pulled down or if she might regret it. I feel bad about leaving the ladies in the lurch.”

“Me, too.” Renée checked her watch. “It's a little early, but I think we're entitled to a drink.”

“I'm in,” John said.

“Joe?”

“The man looks like he could use something with a bit of a kick. I'm guessing the Chivas Regal will do the trick.”

Joe nodded his agreement.

“Coming right up.” Renée went to put a tray together. “Neat or on the rocks?”

“Neat,” Joe said.

“Ah,” John replied. “I knew you were a man after my own heart.”

When Renée returned with the tray, the desk chair had been pulled over to join the wing chairs. She set the drinks tray on the low table between them.

“
Salud
.” They clinked glasses and raised them to their lips.

The warm liquid slid easily down her throat. John shot her a wink. Joe looked from one to the other.

“I wish I understood women half as well as you seem to, John,” Joe Giraldi observed.

“Ah . . . I thought you looked a little harassed. Is something wrong?”

“Shall I leave you two alone?” Renée asked, careful not to laugh at the idea of her husband as an expert on women. Despite the agent's attempt at a light tone, it was clear he had something to discuss.

“No,” Joe said. “I think I may need a woman's opinion.”

“Renée's got no shortage of those,” John observed wryly.

“Now look who's talking,” she retorted. Both of them were smiling.

Joe took a long sip of his drink.

John sipped along companionably. “I'm flattered, but I have to say I'm a little surprised you've come to me. It's been a while since I courted a woman.”

Renée sipped her scotch and smiled.

“I considered talking to Maddie,” Joe admitted. “But I don't think I'd be all that welcome at Bella Flora at the moment. Not if Nikki had anything to say about it.” He took another sip but didn't seem to be finding it particularly soothing. “You and Renée have been married even longer than my parents. And, well, my parents would hardly be objective considering this concerns their son and their potential grandchildren.”

“You've got my attention,” John said. “And I think Renée's eyes are about to pop out of her head. Don't stop now.”

The agent shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “There's a bit of a problem between Nikki and me.”

“Oh?” John asked. “Why's that?”

“I may have accused her of sleeping with someone else.”

Renée was careful not to gasp.

“Do you have reason to believe that? That's a pretty serious allegation,” John said quietly.

“No. I just . . . well, I found out completely by accident that she's pregnant and I was so angry that she hadn't told
me that I started spewing whatever came out.” He looked down into the amber liquid. “And I may have thrown my weight around a little. Well, more than a little.”

Renée closed her mouth, but only after she'd taken a couple of large swallows. Nicole Grant was pregnant. And neither she nor Joe seemed to be celebrating.

“Thing is, I thought I understood women. I have dated a few in my time.”

“No doubt,” John said.

“So, I'm a little curious how you and Renée work things out when they get screwed up. More specifically how you apologize when you've been an idiot and then how you get Renée to do what you want her to.”

John snorted. Renée thought he was going to spray scotch all over the place. “Well, at least you've got things in the right order.”

“Damn straight,” Renée said. “And the apology has to be sincere. And abject. Abject is good. And you might want to consider getting down on one knee and begging. With a ring in your hand.”

“Been there, done that,” Joe said. “I can't believe I'm admitting this. But I couldn't get her to say yes.”

“Hmph.” John took a drink, swirled the amber liquid around in his glass. “Women can be stubborn. Their reasons for things can be, well, let's say men and women look at the world from different angles. You know, that Mars and Venus thing. But you don't strike me as the kind of man who gives up just because somebody says no.”

“That's true. But things are a little complicated. She's not just pregnant. She's having twins. You'd think she'd want to be married, wouldn't you? Especially to someone who hasn't been shy about telling her how much he loves her. And wants children.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“That's life, son. It's complicated and messy. But that's what keeps it interesting.”

“This is way more interesting than I bargained on.”

They sat and sipped in silence for a few minutes.

“Sounds like you need to try again,” John said. “Do what Renée suggested. You tell her how you feel. Include the love and adoration. Then you add the abject apology. And maybe jewelry.”

“And what do you think the chances are that those things will work?” He looked to Renée.

“I don't know,” she said truthfully. “There's something missing here. I'm not sure you can convince her unless you know what it is.” The glass was wet in Renée's hands, the alcohol warm in her stomach. “But you need to give it your all. You don't want to be fathering those children from a distance.”

“No,” Joe said quietly. “That's not something I could do or allow.” He took another drink but didn't seem to be enjoying it. “And if that doesn't work?”

John considered this for a minute, then he looked at her. “Renée? Can you step out for just a minute? I don't want you to hear all my secrets.”

“As if you have any left after all these years,” she retorted even as she got up and walked away. She stepped into the next room and pulled the door closed behind her, leaving it open a tiny crack as she had no doubt John knew she would. She had to hide her laughter when John told Joe Giraldi his never-fail strategy for “managing” her and convincing her to do what he wanted.

As if the old softy had ever tricked her into anything that she hadn't already decided to let him think he'd tricked her into.

“I'm not comfortable about this, kitten,” her father said to Kyra. “Your mother won't like it.” They sat at a table on the back deck of the Wharf restaurant, overlooking the bay and munching on grouper po'boys and fries. Given the veritable
boat parade and view of Tierra Verde, it would have been a relaxing lunch if her father hadn't seemed so intent on talking her out of the very decision he'd helped her make.

“But you said yourself that if I got a hard money loan, I'd probably need someone to guarantee it. You even suggested John Franklin, which I think is a complete stroke of genius.” They had an appointment thirty minutes from now to discuss the details of the loan with John.

“It would be safer to ask Daniel for the money when he brings Dustin back this afternoon. I'm afraid you don't fully understand what can happen if you do this and become unable to pay off the loan.” Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. Kyra was pretty sure it wasn't because of the heat. “You could lose Bella Flora.”

“I can't ask Daniel, Dad. I don't want to treat him like some sort of money train. And I wouldn't even consider risking Bella Flora except we need to do a renovation and have enough left over to hire a good attorney to deal with the network for us. I just can't see any other way.”

“But, sweetie. If things don't work out and you can't pay off the loan . . .”

John Franklin said the same thing an hour later after Annelise—
Annelise
—had shown them to the conference room and Renée had delivered cupcakes and soft drinks.

“I do understand the risk,” Kyra said again. “You and Dad have explained it about a dozen times. But we can't wait around for someone to save us or the show. And I'm the only one with an asset large enough to borrow real money against.”