1. Beck

“ H appy New Year’s Eve…Eve!” Lovely’s voice echoed through the main floor of Coquina House, suitably soft for seven in the morning, but with enough joy that Beck stepped out of her owner’s suite with a smile on her face.

“Good morning! You didn’t have to come over so early.” She walked toward her mother, arms outstretched for a hug. “You should have slept in. And you’re all dressed and ready to roll, looking beautiful, I might add.”

After a quick embrace, Lovely swept a hand over her flowered maxi dress, a staple from her always elegant wardrobe of beachwear.

“Sleep in when we have guests arriving? A B&B to run? A dream job alongside my darling daughter? Beckie! Coquina House is open and that means your partner has made the hundred-yard commute—barefoot in the sand, as one does—to do my share.”

Beck gave her mother another impulsive hug, the enthusiasm she showered on their co-venture always better than coffee on mornings when they had new arrivals at Coquina House.

Although, right now, coffee sounded pretty good, too.

“I know we said we’d keep the place closed this week between Christmas and New Year’s, but…” Beck put an arm around her mother’s narrow shoulders and guided her toward the kitchen and the aroma that called like a siren to her senses.

“Oh, let me guess,” Lovely teased as they walked through a spacious living area warmed by morning sun pouring over shiplapped walls and pale blue sofas. “Someone called to make a reservation, and they were so nice and heard so many good things about Coconut Key’s newest and greatest B&B and there wasn’t another place to stay this week in all of the Keys, so…” She took a breath. “You folded like a baby palm tree in a hurricane.”

“Basically.” Beck shrugged, not ashamed that she put her guests first. “Would you turn down a woman named Melody with a sister named Jazz coming all the way from California for a special vacation with their elderly father, Eddie?”

“Turn them down? Not for love or money,” Lovely joked, using one of their favorite expressions as she rounded the island to her favorite seat at the end. There, she often commented, she could soak up an unobstructed view of the Atlantic Ocean through French doors and still watch over the kitchen activities.

“I don’t know about love.” Beck pulled their favorite mugs from the cabinet. “But the money? Whoa, this lady did not flinch when I quoted the ‘seasonal-and-we’re-supposed-to-be-closed-this-week’ rate. She was absolutely relentless in her determination to stay here for two weeks.”

“Which rooms?” Lovely asked.

“The sisters will take the whole third floor and apparently Elderly Eddie can still do stairs, so I put him in the Royal, since it has the best view on the second floor. All at a premium rate.” She tapped the cups together. “Cheers, Momma. January’s quota is made.”

“Not surprised, Beckie.” Lovely gave a happy sigh, looking like she belonged in the cheery, expansive kitchen. She’d certainly played a large part in the remodel they’d done last year, helping Beck transform their family-owned and somewhat dilapidated beach house into a cozy, coastal oasis for discerning guests. “As my darling great-granddaughter, Ava, would say, we have slayed the B&B world.”

Smiling, Beck turned from the coffee pot to respond, but the sight of her mother seated in the sunshine brought her to a standstill. Good heavens, Beck loved the woman.

Despite finally admitting that she’d hit the milestone of seventy-five, Lovely Ames was still aptly named, beautiful from her braided silver hair right down to pink-tipped toes gracing bare feet.

Her only flaws—if they could be called that—were some laugh lines and crow’s feet, and a few faded scars from a car accident that nearly took her life.

But that accident had given Lovely a fresh outlook on life, and subsequently gave Beck a whole new life. Spurred by what Lovely insisted had been a “near-death experience,” she’d sought out her long-estranged “niece” and invited Beck to Coconut Key.

As their friendship developed, Beck had ultimately discovered that she was not Lovely’s niece, but her daughter. Young and unexpectedly pregnant back in the sixties, Lovely had agreed to give up her baby to be raised by her older sister, Olivia, who was married but couldn’t conceive.

Olivia had passed away seven years ago, taking the secret with her to the grave. She’d made it her life’s mission to keep Beck from ever seeing her “Aunt” Lovely—especially since Beck looked so much like her biological mother.

But once the truth was out, nothing could stop the mother-daughter duo from forming a lasting bond. They’d been inseparable for nearly two years now, deepening their friendship, and building a life together in Coconut Key.

The highlight of that life was that they’d reimagined Lovely’s waterfront childhood home into a B&B with five guest suites and some of the most stunning views in the Lower Keys.

And the icing on the cake? Two of Beck’s daughters had relocated here, and her third, a law student at NYU, was currently home for the break.

“I know we have guests coming, but hasn’t it just been a perfect holiday season so far?” Beck stepped to the oversized fridge to get the heavy cream they both loved. “Christmas Day was sheer perfection, with little Dylan so excited about Santa. And Peyton and Savannah both pregnant at the same time—who’d have guessed that? And Callie home from law school? I’ve loved every minute.”

“It was dreamy,” Lovely agreed. “You looked so happy surrounded by your three girls and your main squeeze.”

Beck laughed softly at the term, since they always joked about calling Oliver her “boyfriend.”

“And speaking of,” Lovely added. “Josh seemed quite happy with Julie. I think they’re serious.”

“I agree and I’m delighted for him,” Beck said, and meant it. She’d dated Josh, her childhood friend’s brother, for quite a while, but they couldn’t manage to take their friendship to the next level.

However, it sure hadn’t taken her long to get there with Oliver Bradshaw. They’d just passed six months together and she was well and truly in love.

Lovely sighed, pulling Beck back to the conversation. “Peyton looks like she’ll never make that January twenty-first due date. I half expected her to go into labor during Christmas dinner.”

Beck smoothed her white jeans as she sat next to her mother to savor the first sip of coffee. “Doctor says she’s already dilated, too. My firstborn is having her firstborn—and a girl!” She gave a playful shiver. “I just love that.”

“And your second daughter is having her second child,” Lovely added with a happy smile.

“She sure is carrying this one differently,” Beck said, thinking of Savannah in a body-hugging red sweater dress that really showed her five-month baby bump. “Must be a girl, even though she refuses to let the doctor tell her.”

Lovely nodded. “Also, it’s different because she was on bed rest with Dylan.”

“Now she’s on no rest with seventeen-month-old Dylan,” Beck joked, absently checking her watch. “I do hope these folks aren’t too late this morning. It takes time to greet the new guests and get them acclimated and settled. Heather and the kids are back from Charleston, and I promised her we’d meet at the café after the breakfast rush to help her finalize some wedding plans. Can you join us?”

“Absolutely,” Lovely said. “I can’t believe Heather and Kenny want to get married at the end of the month and don’t have a single thing planned yet.”

“Second weddings for a widow and widower in their forties? They want to keep it small, just close family and friends, with a party at the Coquina Café after a church ceremony,” Beck said. “Not a whole lot to plan, but we should help her nail down a few details. With the holidays, the babies, and her trip back to Charleston, I think their nuptials have gotten lost.”

“We cannot let that happen,” Lovely said. “Those two are a match made in heaven—literally, if you hear them together—and we need to honor and celebrate them. How can we move things along quickly here? I can change beds, place fresh flowers, and prepare the welcome tray.”

“All done but the tray,” Beck said. “And we have about forty-five minutes until their ETA. Let’s enjoy this coffee.”

“Everything’s done? Already?”

She smiled. “Oliver helped me last night.”

“Oh, that man. Doing my job and being perfect at it.”

Beck laughed, unable to hide her contentment when it came to her amazing Aussie. A sixty-two-year-old widower with a toe-curling accent, Oliver had come last year to see his son, Nick, marry Beck’s daughter, Savannah.

Beck and Oliver’s connection and chemistry had been instant and unstoppable. He’d returned to Sydney, but before long, he’d come back…and, except for a week here and there over the last six months, he hadn’t left.

In fact, he’d rented a small canal-front home, took to fishing like he was born for it, and organically folded into life in Coconut Key.

Beck couldn’t help but get hopeful that he would make this island his permanent residence. He still owned a home in Sydney, though he’d put it on the market, and a small beach house in a place called Wollongong that he couldn’t bear to part with.

Recently, he’d talked a lot about splitting his time between the U.S. and Sydney, leaving Beck to wonder where that left them exactly.

“You know,” Lovely said as she rubbed her thumb along the mug handle. “You’re talking about a part-time cook? What if we considered a full-time housekeeper? Or a manager onsite?”

Beck drew back, jaw loose. “You want to replace me, partner?”

“I want to free you,” she said.

“I’m not a prisoner, and if I am?” She gestured toward the sunny surroundings. “I do not mind my cell.”

“But you can’t ever leave.”

“Of course I can.”

“Not for any length of time,” Lovely countered. “You think I can’t do the heavy lifting because I’m seventy-five years old.”

That was true, but Beck didn’t like to remind Lovely of her age, since she’d always been a bit cagey about it. Probably because she’d so young when Beck was born. Plus, she didn’t look, act, or think like she was a day over sixty.

“I don’t want you to do the heavy lifting,” Beck said. “You gave me this beautiful home and business when I was reeling from an awful divorce and a mid-life kick in the teeth. I’ll do the hard work.”

“You financed the remodel,” Lovely reminded her.

“Actually, the awful divorce did. Lovely…” She gave her mother a suspicious side-eye. “What exactly are you getting at?”

She angled her head and made a face. “I’m…doing a favor for Oliver.”

“A favor? What kind of favor?”

“He asked me if I could urge you to take that trip to Australia with him. He’s aching to take you there. He wants to show you his country and introduce you to the friends he left behind.” Lovely tsked. “I know you won’t go and leave me to handle this place alone, even if I could do it in my sleep.”

She couldn’t change five beds in a morning, Beck thought, or haul loads of laundry up the stairs. She couldn’t hustle down to Coquina Café at dawn for scones and pastries. But Lovely’s heart was in the right place and Beck loved her for it.

“I told him we’ll go next summer, when the season dies down.”

“There’s no season in the Keys,” Lovely said. “We could be as busy in July as we are in October. Even busier.”

“And he recruited you to get me to go?” Beck laughed, shaking her head. “I told him I can’t leave this place now, Lovely. Not only because of this business, but Peyton’s baby is coming any day, then Savannah’s four months later. I don’t want to leave now, and I sure don’t want to dump full responsibility for this place on you. Oh, there’s my phone.”

Happy to change the subject, she pushed off the stool and gestured to the counter where she’d left her cell. “Could be the musical sisters and Elderly Eddie. Or Peyton’s water broke.”

“Oh, true,” Lovely agreed. “How old does one have to be to qualify for elderly, anyway? Please tell me it’s ninety or above.”

Beck bit back a laugh at that, turning her phone over to read the text message.

“Yep, it’s Melody Davidson. They just passed Little Torch Key and they’re coming to the bridge into Coconut Key. ETA is fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, let’s get that tray done.” Lovely slid off the stool. “What about the fruit bowl? And is it too early for Welcome Mimosas?”

“For what they’re paying?” Beck lifted a brow. “We should break out the Veuve.”

Lovely laughed. “You run a great business, Beckie.”

“ We run it, Lovely,” Beck reminded her. “You get the fruit—it’s all cut in the fridge—and I’ll pour the orange juice and make the tray.”

“On it like a bonnet,” Lovely sang, taking one final sip before diving into her role. “It’s time for The Beck and Lovely Show , morning edition.”

Beck smiled at her mother, a swelling of contentment in her heart for their partnership and business. Yes, she loved Oliver, but right now, there was nothing else she’d rather be doing and no one else she’d want to do it with.