AVA LOOKED OUT THE PLATE-GLASS window of the motel office and sighed. Letty followed her gaze. It was Monday morning and Sheila Bronson and her daughter were loading luggage into the cargo hold of a silver minivan.
“I sure hate to see them go like this,” Ava said. “Sheila is worried sick about making that long drive home so soon after Harry got out of the hospital.”
“You’d think their daughter could help her talk sense into him,” Letty said.
“No. Once a man that age has his mind made up, you can’t talk him out of nothin’.”
Sheila Bronson leaned up against the registration desk. Her face was pink and slick with perspiration. “I guess that’s it then,” she said, placing the key with the plastic tag on the glass-topped counter. “I’m sorry to leave you in the lurch like this, Ava. Harry wanted me to ask you to refund us for the six weeks’ rent left for our unit, but I told him no. It’s his own damn fault we’re leaving early.”
Ava grasped Sheila’s hand in hers. “I appreciate that. You all take care driving home, and let us know how things are going after Harry sees his regular doctor up there. We’ll all be thinking about you.”
A horn beeped from outside. Sheila swiped at a tear rolling down her cheek. “I better get going before he gives himself another heart attack.”
“Bye, Sheila,” Letty said, going around the counter to hug the older woman, who squeezed her tightly.
Five minutes later, Merwin Maples was standing at the registration desk. “Ava, since the Bronsons have moved out, Trudi and I want their old unit. Trudi’s already started packing up our stuff, so as soon as you get Anita in there to clean it, we can be ready to move over there.”
“Sorry, Merwin, but the Bronsons’ unit is already spoken for,” Ava said pleasantly.
“What’s that? Spoken for by who? That’s outrageous. Trudi and I have been coming here longer than anyone else here at the Surf. We should have first priority.”
“That’s actually not how it works around here. I’ll let you know if anything else comes available, but in the meantime, maybe you better tell Trudi she can stop packing.”
Letty waited until he’d stomped angrily out of the office. “Wow. He didn’t even wait an hour before coming in here to demand the Bronsons’ unit. And Harry is his best buddy. That’s what I call cold.”
“He’s used to getting his way,” Ava said. “But unfortunately for Merwin, I’m not so easy to bulldoze anymore.”
Letty craned her neck to see the Murmuring Surf sign out by the road. “Who did you rent the Bronsons’ unit to? I didn’t even see the vacancy sign lit up until just now.”
“I thought I’d move you and Maya over there,” Ava said. “After all, it’s paid for until after Easter, and that little efficiency you’re in is way too small a space for you to be trying to raise a child. The good news is, since you cleared out the old storage room and it’s a viable room again, I can easily rent it at market rate.”
A slow smile spread over Letty’s face. “For real? You’d let us move into the Bronsons’ unit? That place is twice the size of ours.”
“You’ve earned it,” Ava said. “I honestly don’t know how I’ve been running this place all this time without you. I called Anita, and she’s going to come in early today to turn their unit. You should be able to move over there this afternoon.”
“But what about Merwin? Won’t he be pissed you’re letting me have the Bronsons’ room?”
“You let me worry about that old goat,” Ava said. “In the meantime, why don’t you run back over to your place and take some photos of it all neatened up and cute? The sooner we get it listed on our website, the sooner I can get it rented for the rest of the season. I’m always getting inquiries from singles who want a smaller, cheaper efficiency.”
Letty rolled her suitcase across the threshold of unit 11, stopped, and exhaled. The tile floor sparkled and smelled of Pine-Sol. She was standing in the combined living and dining room, which held a sofa, armchair, and coffee table, as well as a table with four wooden chairs. A counter-height bar separated the dining area from the compact kitchen alcove, with a full-size refrigerator, stove, and dishwasher. On the other side of the room, an open pocket door revealed the bedroom, with a queen-size bed, a double dresser, and a closet. She poked her head in the bathroom, which had obviously been updated. The white tile floor gleamed, as did the combined tub and shower.
“Look, Letty,” Maya said, pointing to the far side of the bedroom, where a small rollaway bed was made up with fresh linens and a pink flowered bedspread. “That’s where I sleep!” She ran to the bed and placed Ellie on the pillow. “Ellie sleeps here too!”
The very best aspect of their new home was a set of sliding glass doors that let out on a tiny courtyard garden.
Letty opened the sliders and stepped out onto the courtyard. The space held a pair of wrought-iron patio chairs with a small table between them, but every other inch of free space was a lush green garden.
Harry Bronson’s hobby was in full flower. A pair of tall potted palms were planted on either side of the low garden gate, and other pots held blooming hibiscus plants, a fragrant gardenia shrub, and feathery ferns. Huge staghorn ferns grew from boards that had been hung on the fence, which was nearly covered with sweet-smelling jasmine. Pots of blooming white and pink orchids hung from the low branches of a shade tree. There was a dwarf citrus tree whose limbs drooped with almost ripe lemons, and there were terra-cotta pots growing parsley and chives, and cherry tomatoes in various stages of ripening.
“You like it?” Ava stood in the doorway with a bundle of fresh towels in her arms.
“I can’t believe we get to live here,” Letty said, gesturing toward the patio. “I didn’t even know we had a space like this.”
“We’ve got three courtyard units, but this is by far the nicest. And that’s because of Harry. He grew a lot of these plants from seed in his greenhouse back home, and the rest he bought at a nursery down here. Every year he added something new.” Ava pointed to a small concrete birdbath in the shape of a seahorse in the right corner of the garden. “He just bought that birdbath last month.”
“I’ve never had a garden before,” Letty said. “Unless you count a Chia Pet. I don’t know how to take care of any of this. What if I kill it all?”
“You won’t.” Ava handed her two sheets of paper. “Harry left you detailed instructions. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but it was his idea to move you over here. He knew some of the others would be lining up to get this unit, and he thought you and Maya should have it. He didn’t say as much, but I think this is his way of thanking you for saving his life.”
“I didn’t save his life,” Letty protested. “Joe’s the one who got the ambulance here, and the doctors at the hospital did the rest. All I did was give him some aspirin.”
Ava arched an eyebrow. “Are you saying you don’t want this place after all?”
“No! I mean, yes, I want it, but I don’t exactly deserve it. That’s all I’m saying. And thank you. Thanks so much, Ava.”
“You’re welcome. Just don’t kill the lemon tree, okay? I count on those for my iced tea.”
Letty uploaded the last of the photos of the efficiency unit onto the Murmuring Surf’s website and allowed herself a tiny, self-congratulatory pat on the back. Even she had to admit the efficiency had undergone an amazing transformation. She’d convinced Ava to replace the nasty old shag carpet with a boring but unobjectionable indoor-outdoor carpet that almost looked like seagrass. With Ava’s permission she’d painted the battered dresser and the mismatched nightstands with a homemade chalk paint she’d created with a quart of flat turquoise enamel mixed with non-sanding grout mix from the hardware store.
Letty had “borrowed” from Maya’s stash of seashells and hot-glued them in a mosaic pattern around the frame of the dresser mirror.
Then she’d raided the motel’s linen supply and found four white cotton chenille bedspreads, and used clip-on curtain rings to transform three of them into drapes, while the fourth bedspread was actually used for its intended purpose.
There wasn’t much she could do with the dated dusty-pink bathroom except scrub the tile and style the photos with a pile of folded towels on top of the closed commode and a vase of hot-pink hibiscus blossoms plonked into a water glass on the sink.
“Okay, done!” she said, closing the lid on the laptop.
She poured herself a glass of wine and took it out to her new patio garden. Isabelle and Maya were baking cookies together at Ava’s, so she had a rare and precious hour all to herself.
If she turned her chair in just the right position, she could see a patch of the Gulf through the row of palm trees lining the Murmuring Surf’s swath of beach. The sky was the color of an orange Creamsicle, and tourists were perched in chairs at intervals along the sand, awaiting the nightly sunset ritual.
It was a ritual Letty could get used to, sitting in her private little paradise, with the smell of jasmine and gardenias and a tiny plot of velvety grass beneath her bare feet. Today, as the last of her clothes were folded and placed in the dresser, and her toothbrush and Maya’s were lined up on the bathroom sink, it occurred to Letty that she was finally in a good place.
Maya seemed happy. The meltdowns and night terrors were fewer and farther between, and the new routine—working alongside Letty in the mornings, then spending late afternoons with Isabelle—seemed to suit her.
Letty liked her job, liked the feeling that she had something to contribute to here. She’d grown fond of her employer, and of her daughter, and even the regulars seemed to grudgingly accept her presence at the Murmuring Surf. Maybe, she thought, she could relax here, let down her guard, live in the moment.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar figure strolling down toward the beach, fishing rod in one hand, with a cast net looped over his shoulder and a bait bucket in the other hand.
There was no way Joe DeCurtis could see her here, through the tangle of greenery, but just in case, she slumped lower in her chair. He was dressed in a long-sleeved white T-shirt that clung to his muscled back, and baggy neon-orange board shorts. Joe planted the butt of the fishing rod in the sand, then waded out into the surf. He held one edge of the weighted net between his teeth, then folded a section of the net over his outstretched right arm. While she watched, fascinated, he grabbed the weight line with his right hand, reached back, and flung the net out in an elliptical arc. After fifteen seconds, he drew the net in, wriggling with hundreds of minnows flashing silver in the fading sunlight.
He made a handsome sight, silhouetted against the glittering turquoise water. A postcard: WELCOME TO FLORIDA.
She heard a ping coming from inside the apartment and got up to fetch her phone.
It was a text from Zoey.
Girl—I hope you’re okay. A lawyer came here today, looking to see if I knew where you’re at. I acted dumb and said I hadn’t heard from you, but don’t think she bought it. She says she’s your sister’s lawyer and needs to talk to you. Wouldn’t say what it’s about. Here’s her card. Take care, you hear?
The next text message contained a screenshot of a business card.
Samiya Chritesh, attorney-at-law. There was a phone number and an email address. Written in neat block letters on the bottom of the card was a note.
Ms. Carnahan. I represent your late sister’s estate. It’s urgent that I speak with you. Please call.