“Everything, meaning – what?”
“With the shop,” I say. “Our favorite mayor came by again yesterday. Tried to convince me – again – to sell the shop.”
“What did you say?”
“Yet another variation of go screw yourself,” I reply. “I'm starting to run out of ways to say it.”
“So, what has you so twisted up then?”
I take a sip of my coffee and gently set the mug back down. “Do you think I'm crazy for not wanting to sell?” I ask. “Do you think I'm being stubborn just for being stubborn's sake? Is there any point to digging my heels in like I have been?”
She shrugs. “That's not for me to say, hon,” she says. “You're the only one who can answer that question.”
“Do you think I should sell?”
She sighs and gives me a slight shrug of her shoulders. Not the definitive statement I was looking for. I relay the conversation I had with Mrs. B. and when I finish, Skyler gives me a sly smile.
“Mrs. B. knows what's up,” she says. “Take that sexy ass down to the Caribbean, find you some hot, hung island man, have drinks on the beach and make sweet love all night long. Every night. Now that would be the life.”
I laugh. “That sounds more like your kind of life.”
She shrugs. “Once I'm done here in Port Safira and am ready to pack it in,” she says, “you better bet that's what I'm going to do. And if you're not already down there, I'm going to drag your sweet ass down there with me.”
I laugh, and we share a moment of comfortable silence as we sip our coffee. Skyler's always been able to roll with the punches that life throws a lot better than I have. She's more flexible and adaptable to change than I am. It's something else that I admire about her.
Skyler gives me a smile and takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Mrs. B. is right, you know,” she says softly.
“About which part?”
“About all of it, silly,” she says. “But mostly about the bookstore not being the legacy your folks left. It's all the good they did in the community. Their legacy is you.”
“Yeah, well, I don't think I'm doing their legacy any favors then.”
“So, do something about it.”
“Like what?”
Skyler pops another bit of muffin into her mouth. “I don't know,” she says. “Build the shop up again. Do what they used to do and get involved with the community.”
I grimace and take another drink of my coffee. That stuff is so far out of my wheelhouse that I wouldn't even know where to begin.
“Or,” Skyler says, “sell the shop, take the money, and do something different. Honor their memory in another way.”
“Like how?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I don't know,” she replies. “That's something you'd have to figure out.”
I let out a long, frustrated breath. Everything is just so jumbled in my head right now that I don't even know where to begin sorting it all out.
“Listen,” Skyler says, squeezing my hand again. “You don't have to figure it all out by the time you finish that coffee. Think about it. This is one of those things that deserves some real thought. All I can tell you for sure is that you need to do something, hon. You just seem so – stuck. Like you don't know what to do with yourself.”
A wry smile touches my lips. “That's one way to put it.”
“Then find something to do, hon,” she says. “Figure out what's going to make you happy and go do that. If that means selling the shop and using that money to say, go back to school, so be it. Your parents would never begrudge you that and you know it.”
“No,” I say softly. “They wouldn't. I know they'd want me to be happy.”
“Damn right they would,” she says. “They'd be the first ones to tell you the shop is just a building filled with stuff.”
I nod, knowing everything that she and Mrs. Brenton said is true. Everything they said is right. I just don't know what I want, or what I want to do, just yet. I guess they're right about that too – it's something I'm going to have to figure out.
“Thanks, Sky,” I say. “I don't know what I'd do without you.”
“Probably melt into a quivering puddle of self-pity.”
“Gee, thanks.”
She slaps me on the arm and laughs. “I'm kidding, hon,” she says. “You know that.”
“I know,” I say and give her a small smile.
“So, listen,” she says. “Did you know that somebody bought the old McFarland place up on Sapphire Hill?”
I nod. “Yeah, I knew that already,” I laugh. “Where have you been?”
She shrugs. “Oh, well, probably busy with my European stud-induced multiple orgasms,” she replies. “Multiple orgasms that you can have too, you know. Henrik has plenty of hot friends onboard the ship.”
“Pass,” I say. “But, thanks for thinking of me.”
She shrugs again and smirks. “That's okay,” she says. “More for me then.”
“Have at 'em, tiger.”
“Oh, I plan on it,” she says. “Anyway, what's up with the guy on the hill? Apparently, he moved in weeks ago and nobody's seen or heard from him. He's like this mysterious old shut-in or something.”
“Yeah, town gossip isn't my thing,” I say.
“Oh, it's totally mine,” she says. “Nobody's seen the guy though. Most seem to think he's like some super old, creepy guy. Some think he's morbidly obese and can't get around, and others think he's disfigured like the Phantom of the Opera or something and doesn't want to be seen.”
“Or, maybe he's just a guy who likes his privacy.”
“It's totally weird if you ask me,” she says. “He's been living there for weeks apparently and nobody's seen him. Not even once. I bet he's got like, a lot of women chained up in some basement sex dungeon or something.”
“You say that like you're hoping for an invitation,” I say and chuckle.
“Shut up,” she laughs. “I just think it's creepy that he moves into town and yet, is never actually seen around town. People are calling him Gatsby, in case you wondered.”
“I wasn't wondering.”
It's odd. There's no doubt about that. But, I'm not one to engage in idle gossip. Besides, I already did some research on the newest member of our community. It's amazing what you can find when you Google something. I'm not going to share that information with Skyler though. She's having too much fun speculating and gossiping about all of this anyway.
Personally, I know all I that need to know about the new resident on Sapphire Hill. His name is Liam Anderson and he's a real estate developer. Just another filthy, stinking rich, predatory vulture who has come to pick the meat off the bones of my hometown.
Chapter Six
Liam
“You've always been a soft touch, big brother,” he says.
I sigh and lean back in my seat, looking at the face of my younger brother Brayden on the computer screen. Well, one of my younger brothers, anyway. I was the eldest of four – one of four heads of Anderson Development Enterprises. Our father, in his will, had divided the company – a multi-billion-dollar real estate development company – into four geographic slices.
Each of us was in charge of our own geographic center and responsible for everything that happened within it. It was really a brilliant way to divide up the vast and highly profitable kingdom he'd built for us. But then, that's not altogether that surprising. My father was a brilliant man.
Brayden is the closest to me in terms of age and that's probably why I'm closer to him than my other brothers. Not that I'm not close to them, but I feel like Brayden and I have a bond that unfortunately, I don't share with the other two.
My region of the company is the West Coast, running from Alaska down to Baja California, while his is the South and Southwest, so we don't get to see each other as often as I'd like, but we usually Skype at least once a week, just to stay current with one another.
“I wasn't exactly a soft touch,” I say. “I made her relinquish her claim to any money or property. I gave her nothing.”