The other baked potatoes would be for the week. The less cooking she had to do, the better.
She set her Kindle aside to sip her wine. Nights like this made her think her life wasn’t so bad, despite the downturn that had resulted in her retirement and divorce.
Didn’t mean she wasn’t still upset about all that had happened. She was. And probably would be until the day shedied. But nights like this made the thought of those things recede.
It helped that she didn’t have Natalie or her grandson to worry about. The relief at knowing her son-in-law was still a good man was immeasurable. She lifted her glass and toasted him, hoping he got that promotion.
Paige had texted an update, telling them all about Lester’s upcoming surgery and letting them know she’d be providing updates as she got them. Also, she’d told them Althea would most likely be attending next week’s book club meeting.
Cece liked the thought of that. She looked forward to meeting the woman. It was impossible to live in the Colony and not know who she was, but getting to know the actual woman should prove interesting.
If Cece’s job had taught her anything it was that reality and perception were often two very different things. A lot of people had public and private faces.
She’d already assumed Blaise was like that. And why wouldn’t she be? In her younger days, the woman had been an It girl. Hounded by paparazzi, her image able to launch new products into the stratosphere.
Crazy to think she’d fallen for a scam that had nearly wiped her out. Cece hated stories like that. Worse still, Blaise was such a lovely person. She hadn’t deserved any of that awfulness. Scammers were some of the lowest lifeforms.
Another sip of wine, then she put her glass down.
She picked up her Kindle, then immediately laid it flat on her chest as inspiration came to her. Maybe she should do a series about that for theBuzz. About common scams and how to avoid them. That would at least be some real journalism.
More so than just interviewing new residents. Which reminded her that she was scheduled to meet Dr. Oliver Keentomorrow for breakfast at The Bee’s Knees, the café in the small shopping center that served the community.
It wasn’t the kind of interview that truly warranted breakfast. It could have been handled with a few emails and a questionnaire, but she was curious to meet this man. Something about him didn’t add up.
The hospital website said he was married, with two older kids and a dog, but tiny houses didn’t lend themselves to that kind of family life. There was no way two older kids would be sharing a bedroom. Not to mentionfourpeople in a tiny housewitha golden retriever?
It didn’t pass the sniff test.
She’d find out more tomorrow. She went back to the book until the oven timer went off. Peanut followed her in. Cece grabbed the potatoes out with tongs and set them on a plate to cool for a few minutes.
While they rested, she gave Peanut her dinner, then turned the television on and went to one of her streaming channels. She was working her way through a series of historical true crime documentaries. Amazing they ever caught anyone before fingerprints and DNA.
She fixed a baked potato, refilled her wine, and settled in to watch. Peanut finished her food and sat nearby, cleaning herself.
The potato was good and as she took her empty dish into the kitchen, a new thought hit her. Maybe it was the wine, but maybe it was just a smart idea. Actually, she’d had a lot more wine than she usually allowed herself, but she’d sort of been celebrating her daughter’s husband not being a cheater.
She felt like she should go for a walk on the beach. It was a beautiful night. In a few more weeks, the temperatures would rise, and this wonderful cool breeze would be gone until the fall. She should take advantage of the weather and the great night to get some exercise and enjoy nature.
Not to mention, the exercise might help her sober up a bit.
“What do you think, Peanut?”
Peanut had settled into her cat tower, which gave her a fantastic view of the neighbor’s bird feeder, a popular spot with squirrels. She didn’t answer.
“I’m going. And I’m going to stick my toes in the water, too. And get some sunset pictures because, if I hustle, I can get down there before it sets.”
She grabbed her phone, wiggled her feet into a pair of flipflops, and with her key in her pocket, headed for the beach.
She lived a few streets away, but it didn’t take that long before her feet touched sand. She walked through the dune grasses, following a well-worn path. There were other folks on the beach, but fewer than she’d imagined. Some were walking dogs, some looked like they were hunting for shells, and others just enjoying the night.
There was a slight drop-off near the waterline, probably because it was low tide. Or at least it seemed like low tide. She’d never been good at knowing when the tides occurred, but she didn’t recall seeing that drop-off before.
She stepped down and as soon as she got close to the water, she left her flipflops behind and sank her toes into the sand. It felt good. She needed to come down here more often. She walked to the water and stood where the waves could reach her.
The water was cool but refreshing. She went a little further in, letting it lap over her feet, the sand shifting and moving beneath them with each wave.
The sun sank lower, the light turning gold and purple as dusk drew closer. Other people stopped to take sunset photos. Her feet were further under the sand, but she pulled them out and stepped back so she didn’t get too wet while she took the photos. Bits and pieces of shell crunched underfoot.
