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“That would be good. She worries about you.” His dad didn’t add that he worried, too, though it was obvious from the way he was looking at James. Checking him up and down, making sure he was well, the same way he used to after a Friday night football match.
“You want to come in?” James asked his dad, inclining his head at the front door. “I can put some coffee on.”
“No no. I need to get back. Your mom made another of those casseroles for us.” Even though he refused the invite, his dad didn’t seem in any hurry to leave. He leaned on the post below the porch overhang, crossing his arms as a smile played around his lips. “How was work?”
“Pretty good. I had a six-hour spinal fusion. Checked on the patient before I left and she’s doing well. Should be up and walking in a couple of days.”
His dad’s eyes gleamed. “It never fails to amaze me what you can do with those hands. You have your mother to thank for those. And all those piano lessons she forced you to take.”
“Yeah.” James smirked. “I’m really thankful for those.”
“And are you taking care of yourself?” his dad asked. “Getting out and seeing people?”
“Is this you asking or is it mom?” James could hear her now, telling his dad exactly what questions she needed him to ask.
“We worry about you, son. It’s been almost three years.” His dad cleared his throat, shifting from one foot to the other. “I know you miss them. We all do. You’re not the only one who lost people they love that day.”
James felt his chest tighten, the way it always did when they tried to talk about that overcast Monday three years ago. It had taken so long to get his thoughts away from that day. Years of therapy to be able to sleep without seeing her drift away from him on that hospital bed. He didn’t want to think about it, talk about it, do anything except blot it out of his mind with a tall glass of whiskey.
“I am getting out and seeing people,” he half-lied. “I’m going to the opening of the Silver Sands Resort on Saturday.”
Well that was one decision made.
“You are? That’s great.” His dad leaned toward him. “Are you, ah, taking anybody?”
“Let’s not push things too far, I’m going with Rich. Though I’m almost certain I won’t be with him for long. He’s heard rumors of Hollywood actresses attending.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m glad you’re getting out. Your mom will be, too. We want you to be happy. You’ve got a long life ahead of you. You’ve beaten yourself up for long enough.” He patted James on the shoulder. “I should get back. Your mom was warming up the casserole as I left.”
James nodded. “I’ll call her later, but tell her thanks for the food.”
“I will. And maybe you can come over on Sunday, tell us about the party. That would make us both happy.”
“If I’m not working, sure.” Not that there would be anything to tell. As far as he was concerned, he’d go, have a few free drinks, and slink off as soon as Rich was occupied by somebody else.
But maybe it’d be better than staying in on a Saturday night; there was only one way to find out.
3
“What’s this?” Harper asked, a smile ghosting her lips as she looked around the bungalow. The walls were whitewashed, covered with what looked like expensive one-off paintings hanging in tarnished golden frames. The floors were laid with marble tiles, but the most stunning thing was the bed. A four poster made of intricately carved dark wood posts, with shimmering voile curtains cascading down to the expensive white sheets pulled taut beneath a silver satin throw.
“It’s yours,” Caitie said, bouncing from foot to foot. “At least for tonight. Breck spoke to his friend Aiden, the hotel director. He was happy to comp you a place.”
“That’s so sweet.” Harper couldn’t help but grin. Breck was Caitie’s boyfriend and his company had carried out the resort renovations. One of the things she loved about Angel Sands was how everybody knew everybody. The thought that they arranged this for her made her heart swell ten times bigger.
“And we’ve booked you in at the salon for a facial and blow out. So leave your stuff here and let’s go.” Caitie reached for her hand, waiting patiently as Harper put down her case and slid her own palm into it. Then they pulled the door closed and headed up the pathway to the main hotel building.
Everything about this place was glamorous. From the perfectly kept gardens – filled with towering palm trees and lush azaleas in vibrant pinks and blues – to the marble statues and sparkling fountains peppering the grounds.
Cliffs towered above the resort, the Pacific Ocean in front of it, making it feel secluded and exclusive.
“Rumor has it Marilyn Monroe slept in that bungalow,” Caitie said, inclining her head to the low sandstone building they’d just left. “Maybe that’s where she met up with JFK.”
“It isn’t new?” Harper thought they’d razed the old buildings and built new, custom-made ones.
“Nope. The resort is renovated to match the old blue prints. They reused the same building materials where they could. According to Breck, they’ve updated a few things – added all the modern amenities where they weren’t before. But if you look around, it’s pretty much the same as it was back in the golden days of Hollywood.” Caitie grinned. “Once Marilyn escaped to here, and now you have. It’s kind of fitting.”
“As long as I don’t find a politician in the bedroom, I’ll be fine,” Harper said, unable to keep the smile from her face. God, she loved her best friend; Caitie always knew how to cheer her up. It used to be pizza and beer when she’d failed an assignment, now it was a glamorous stay in a brand new exclusive resort when she’d just been fired.
