Jay sat on a barstool at Lucky Duck that evening. The assistant cook he’d hired was doing better, and he’d left early after the main dinner rush, leaving the assistant to finish up. He hoped he’d made the right decision…
Del Hamilton waved to him as he entered the tavern and slipped onto the stool beside him. Del motioned to Willie. “I’ll have one of your special drinks, the one you call the basil motonic.”
“Coming up.”
“Thanks for meeting me. I needed a night away from Camille and her mother’s constant planning for this party of theirs. You’d think it was the most important event of the year.”
Jay grinned. “Probably is to Camille and Mrs. Montgomery.” He took a sip of his beer and grabbed some pretzels from the bowl on the bar. “Anyway, I was glad to take some time off myself. It’s been busy at the inn. Lil is feeling better though and insisting she can take on more and more.”
“So she’s recovered from her fall?” Del reached for the drink Willie handed him and took a sip. “I swear, Willie, you come up with the best drinks anywhere.”
Willie grinned. “Just wait until you taste this next one I’m working on.”
“Let me know when you’ve perfected it.”
“Will do.” Willie left to wait on some new customers.
Jay took another sip of his beer then turned to Del. “I thought the Montgomerys were renting their beach house out now?”
Del sighed. “They are… but I rented it from them for the month so they could throw this party. They aren’t quite used to not having the house any time they want to come down from Comfort Crossing and stay here at the beach house.”
Jay stayed silent, sipping his beer, knowing Del would continue when he was ready. He’d learned that about the man. He liked to process his thoughts and choose his words carefully.
It was a strange friendship they had. Del was rich—really rich—and came from a powerful family that owned a whole string of hotels. And Jay was just a cook at an inn on the island. But they’d met when Del had stayed at the inn for a week and they hit it off. Now they often met for drinks when Del was in town. Though he was vividly aware of the fact that Camille didn’t approve of him as a friend of Del’s.
Del spun the straw, swirling his drink a few times. “I know everyone believes the Montgomerys are renting the house out because they don’t want to come here as often.” He sighed. “Not to be talking out of place, but that’s not really the truth. They need to be scaling back on expenses. I probably shouldn’t have rented the place for them. I mean, the Montgomerys are going to have to learn to cut corners. Camille is having a hard time with that, and so is her mother. But I refuse to keep bailing Camille out. I swear that woman can go through more money in a day than I go through in a year.” He grinned and shrugged. “But, what can I say? She’s my weakness. I do adore her—quirks and all.”
Jay never could see what Del saw in Camille, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
Del took a sip of his drink and smiled. “So, Lil Charm would kill me, but my offer still stands to hire you out as a chef at the new hotel on Moonbeam Bay. Good pay, good benefits, and probably better hours than what you work now.”
“Thanks, but I’m pretty content where I am. I love my job at the inn.”
“And enjoying your job is an important part of a good life.” Del nodded and raised his glass. “To enjoying life.”
He clinked his glass with Del’s. It was a great offer, but he was content with life here on Belle Island. He had enough money for all that he wanted. While it did appeal to him to try his hand at fancier fare, he couldn’t imagine ever leaving Lil and the inn.
Charlotte sat out on the deck at The Nest with Robin and Sara. She propped her feet up on an ottoman, relaxing back in her chair. She really enjoyed the fact that now that the three of them were back on the island, they could get together like this again. She’d missed relaxing and chatting with them.
“How’s the painting going?” Sara asked.
“Pretty good. I’ve almost finished the one I’m working on.”
Robin grinned. “She painted when she was hiding out from her family this afternoon.”
“I wasn’t hiding. Not exactly. They were at the pool this afternoon and then… well, they didn’t say what they were doing for dinner.”
“Really?” Sara’s eyes widened.
“Hey, I evidently wore the wrong clothes to lunch, and I ordered a beer.”
Robin laughed. “Just trying to goad your mom?”
“I had to rush to order a beer before she ordered me another stupid Chardonnay.”
“You hate Chardonnay.” Sara frowned.
“Exactly. You know that. Robin knows that. Lil knows that. But my mother doesn’t no matter how many times I tell her.”
“Well, two days of them in town is over,” Robin said helpfully.
“Tomorrow we’re going out to Blue Heron Island with Ben.”
“That should be fun. A trip there is always a good time.” Sara took a sip of her wine. “Right?”
“Depends on how big a boat Ben has…”
Robin laughed again. “Maybe he’ll bring that trawler he has. He’d been working on fixing it up. It’s pretty nice now. You could go up top. You know Eva would stay down below in the cabin.”
“I can only hope.”
“Hey, did you drop the rent checks at the office?” Robin leaned forward, changing the subject.
“I did.” And she could do one more plus half the utilities. And food if she was lucky.
Robin frowned. “What’s that look?”
“What look?” She did her best imitation of an innocent expression.
“That look you had when I asked you about the rent.”
She let out a long sigh and turned to her friends. “I’m… I’m having a few money problems, is all.”
“Not to be nosey… but didn’t you make scads from your art in L.A.?” Sara asked.
How to answer that? “It wasn’t scads, exactly. And it’s expensive to live in L.A.” She paused, carefully choosing her words. “And I wasn’t… careful… with my funds.”
“Didn’t your agent—what was his name—Reginald? Didn’t he handle all that?”
She set her glass on the table. As long as they knew she was broke, they might as well hear the rest of it. “He did. I let him handle all of it. I was silly and naive. We were actually a couple.”
“You dated Reginald?”
“For a bit.”
“What happened?”
“My art started not selling, and he started not being interested in me anymore. Not as a couple, not as an artist he represented.”
“And the money?” Robin tilted her head to the side.
“I heard he’s in Europe these days. And I assume he’s there with what’s left of my money…”
“He stole from you?” Sara sat up straight.
“He came up with invoices and charges for this and that and reasons why most of the money was gone. But later I heard that he’d done the same thing to another artist or two. He was a charming scammer. I fell for it.” She still couldn’t believe she’d been so gullible. The show openings and being invited to fancy events in L.A. had gone to her head. Plus, Reginald was a good-looking guy and always managed to get invitations to every party. The more parties they went to, the more people they met who were interested in buying her work.
“That’s terrible.” Sara’s eyes shone with sympathy.
“I was… foolish. It was all good until things started to slide downhill. I got up one morning and checked my social media accounts and there was Reginald with some new up-and-coming—and gorgeous—artist on his arm. I was no longer invited to the events with him. And I found out most of the money was gone.”
“Take him to court.” Robin frowned.
“I don’t think he’s planning on coming back stateside for quite some time. He’s over hitting the art scene in Europe. With that same gorgeous artist on his arm.”
“That’s not right.” Sara reached over and squeezed her hand.
“It’s not, but it’s what I let happen. I should never have given him that control.”
“Then you will absolutely let Aunt Lil pay you for all the work you did on the cottages.”
“I was just helping out.”
Robin set her glass down. “Sara is right. There is no question. You’re going to take money for the cottages. It was in the budget. And Lil wants to remodel two more rooms at the inn. We’ll hire you for those, too.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue with Robin. You won’t win.” Sara grinned.
She looked from Robin to Sara… uncertain.
“I don’t want charity.”
“We either pay you, or we pay someone else. So we’ll pay you.” Robin shrugged—and her shrug was nothing like the dismissive shrug of her mother’s. “And I still say you should show your new work to Paul Clark for his gallery.”
“Robin… I told you I’m not ready for any showings.”
“Okay, okay. But I’m going to keep bugging you about it.”
“I know.” She sighed. “I’d expect nothing less.”
“And I’ll win that argument soon, too.” Robin scooped up her glass of wine, her look saying that she was confident of her future victory.