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)
Gigi hums. “I imagine it’ll be a nice meal.”
“I would hope so. And it’s not just him and his wife. There will be a bunch of people there. Ronan said it’s a casual, friendly thing.”
“Aren’t you just a little curious to meet this billionaire man and see what all the fuss is about?”
“Maybe,” I admit with reluctance. “At least so I can say, yes, I’ve met him and can confirm once and for all that he is, indeed, the douchebag we all think he is.”
She tsks. “Neither the hotel nor the man is going anywhere, whether you like it or not, so you may as well make peace with it.”
“You’re beginning to sound like Frank.”
“Frank’s a wise man. Why do you think I kept him around all those years? You should listen to him!”
“But can you imagine how awkward a dinner with Henry Wolf would be?”
“For you or him? I say put on a dress and let the man feed you. Be sweet as peach pie. That’s what I’d do.”
“I’m not good at that.”
“Fine, then spit in his face and call him a filthy ghoul while you get your fill of caviar.” She cackles. “Oh, to be a fly on that wall.”
A knock sounds.
Like a child about to get caught doing something naughty, Gigi stuffs the last piece of her scone into her mouth and, crumpling the packaging, drops it into the nearby trash.
I shake my head but grin as I call out, “Come in.”
Frieda pushes through the door, a tray of medications in one hand and a blood pressure machine in the other. She’s one of the daytime nurses and probably my favorite. “Good morning, ladies. How are we feeling today?”
“Pretty well,” I offer as Gigi chews and swallows the evidence. “I just braided her hair, and we were catching up on things. I’ve got to head out now. Lots to do.” A blood test or two, for starters.
Rita sets the tray down and begins opening caps. “How’d you sleep last night, Gigi?”
“The usual. Had that strange dream with those monkeys again.”
“Oh yeah? What were those little rascals up to this time?”
“Can’t remember. But they were definitely there.”
Frieda hums. “Must be all those sweet treats you’ve been sneakin’.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have me confused with someone else.”
My phone chirps then with an incoming text, and I choose to answer it rather than get dragged into Gigi’s lie.
Ronan:
Don’t flake out on me, Sea Witch. 6pm sharp.
My stomach flutters with nerves. He’s not going to let up. This is beginning to feel like a chase. I’ll admit, I like it.
“What’s that about?” Gigi asks. “Is that your baby daddy?”
“Haha, funny.” With Frieda’s back to us, I shoot Gigi a glare in warning. What the hell? She used to be a vault for unmentionables. If this is her idea of keeping a secret, half of Mermaid Beach is going to know within the week.
“Oh, silly me, I’m getting my slang mixed up. Too old to keep up, I guess.” She flashes wide “oops” eyes at me.
Good recovery attempt. I hope it’s enough.
“Okay, Ms. Parker, let’s check that ticker of yours.” Frieda mouths “congratulations” as she passes.
Nope, not good enough.
With a heavy sigh, I bend over to kiss Gigi’s forehead. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
She seizes my cheeks and holds my face close to hers. “You’re never alone, remember that. The Sea Witch is your family. Your village.”
I smile to mask my apprehension. I wish that were true, but the deeply rooted community Gigi fostered over the decades feels like it’s slipping away. How long before everyone is gone?
She releases me. “Oh, to be young and wild again. Such exciting times.”
“Glad I’m able to entertain you.”
“You kidding? This is better than those daytime soaps in the rec center. Have fun tonight.”
“You’re so convinced I’m going.”
“Of course you are. You can’t help yourself.”
She’s likely right.
“Into the belly of the beast!” Gigi shakes her fist in the air before stretching it out for Frieda. “Wear that peach number.”
“I forgot about that dress.” It was a splurge for a friend’s wedding. Cody got drunk and spilled an entire beer on me. I was so angry. But the dry cleaners worked their magic. I haven’t worn it since. I haven’t had any reason to.
“It’s stunning on you. Oh, and the perfume.” She winks. “You know the one.”
I squeeze the Cherokee into a parking spot outside my doctor’s office, but I don’t rush for my appointment just yet. There’s something—or someone—I need to speak to first.
Digging out the scrap of paper I jotted Ryan’s number down on, I punch the digits into my phone and hit Call.
And wait as it rings. Maybe I should have called from the main line. She’s likely screening random numbers. I don’t blame her; I do the same. I’ll just leave a message—