14. Beck

B eck pressed her chin to her knuckles and leaned toward the laptop screen as if one inch could get her closer to the man on the other side of the world.

True to the time difference, Oliver sipped a beer, and she finished the last drops of her coffee while they talked about the massive job ahead of him.

“Trust me, I’d like to chuck the whole thing, hit the Grand Pacific and head up to the Gong,” Oliver said, his Australian accent sounding a tad more pronounced the common nickname for the beach town he loved. “The drive alone is a game-changer. And a mood changer.”

He’d told her about the scenic route between Sydney and his beach house many times, with enough longing in his voice that she knew he missed the gorgeous part of the world where he’d spent most of his life.

Wait a second—did he say…

“Chuck the whole thing?” she asked, incredulous. “Do you mean selling the house? And…does your mood need to change?”

He gave a wistful smile. “It would be whole lot better if you were here.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, and meant it.

“No, no, Beck. I’m just being whiny. I’m not chucking anything, but the whole process of moving out of this place is daunting and it’s late here. I’m wiped out.”

“Oh, honey.” This time, they both moved closer to the screen. “It’s a big job and I so wish I could be there to help you. I do have a bit of Coconut Key gossip that might cheer you up.”

“Yes, please,” he said on a soft laugh. “Something about the new family, I hope.”

“Something, indeed. Lovely is…” She shook her head, not sure how to describe it. “Whoa. Gone. And so is Eddie.”

“Pardon? Gone? You mean, like…”

“Crushed,” she finished for him. “Both of them are like infatuated teenagers, unable to stop staring at each other, holding hands, whispering. It’s so adorable. Terrifying, but adorable.”

He looked shocked, then pointed at her. “Didn’t I call that one?”

“You kind of did,” she said on a laugh. “There’s whirlwind romance happening right under our noses and the parties in question are both in their mid-seventies.”

“I guess the Beach Table worked its magic,” he said, then made a face. “It could have been us.”

“We’re already in love,” she said. “But this?—”

“Ah, say it again, Rebecca. I love to hear that we’re in love.”

Laughing, she blew him a kiss. “You know we are.”

“Do you think she’s in love?” He locked his elbows on the desk, riveted. The move made her smile, reminding her that he was as much a friend as a boyfriend, even though she hated that term at their ages.

“I think she’s got a massive crush,” Beck said. “And he seems to be just as enchanted. He wrote a song about her this morning.”

“Really? Another ‘Lovely’ ballad?”

“I don’t know how it sounds, but Melody implied that a woman can inspire him. A good woman, I believe she said. And he said the song was a gift to Lovely.”

“That’s so precious.”

“And now they’re off to Key West to buy a used acoustic guitar,” she told him. “He’s on a songwriting roll and she’s his muse.”

Oliver considered that, studying the label on his beer for a moment. “What if it isn’t a crush, Beck?” he asked. “What if this is the real deal and she’s ready to run off with this mate?”

She stared at him, hating that he put into words her deepest, darkest fear. “Run off ?” she scoffed. “Lovely? She’s barely left this island her entire life.”

“Maybe it’s time,” he said. “She’s only seventy-five and healthy. She’s got a good twenty years left.”

She sure did, and Beck wanted to spend every one of them with her mother at her side. But…what if Lovely fell in love and wanted to…

Sighing, she stifled a grunt, definitely not ready to go there.

“Now you’re upset,” he said, searching her face even though a world and a screen separated them. “Of course she’s not going anywhere. Maybe he’ll move to Coconut Key.”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s got a ranch outside of San Francisco, a winery in Napa, and a business, not to mention kids, grandkids, and a life. He’s not picking up and moving here.”

But what if Lovely got serious about him? Again, she tamped down the thought.

“I’m sorry I mentioned it, Beck,” he said softly. “I’d like to wipe that worried look off your face with a kiss.”

She smiled, trying to erase any grimace that came with the idea of losing Lovely. “It’s fine. It’s just…no, it’s fine. And I just wish you were here to see the whole thing unfold.”

“I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“Unless you realize you’re so happy to be Down Under that you don’t come back,” she said, giving in to a new punch of self-pity, made worse by the conversation.

“I’ll come back,” he said without a nanosecond of hesitation. “But it isn’t a bad time to be here. It’s the heart of summer and the weather’s quite nice. Sydney is bustling with life, and just an hour north is my own personal oasis on the water.”

His deep love for Australia wasn’t exactly helping her mood, but she smiled brightly. “Are you going to get up to the beach this trip? Or is this just an emptying out this house and closing the property deal?”

“Oh, I have to visit my place in Wollongong. My soul wouldn’t survive if I didn’t spend a few days there.” He glanced around what looked like a mostly empty office in his home. “I love Sydney, but this is just another big house. However, that place? Oh, you’d love it so much, Beck. Mountains and water and miles of sky. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen and all I want to do is take you there.”

“I promise I’ll go. Between babies, maybe?” But even as she said it, she knew she’d be hard pressed to leave after Peyton’s baby was born this month. Yes, Savannah had four more months, but last time she was pregnant, she ended up on bed rest. What if that happened again? Savannah had Nick, but nothing—not even the world’s greatest husband—could replace a mother.

“You’re already second-guessing that suggestion,” he said, a knowing glint in his dark eyes.

“Just the timing,” she assured him. “I will go. I want to go, but I just don’t know when.”

“I get that, Beck. And I won’t pester you. Hopefully, this property closing will go smoothly, and I’ll be back in a few weeks. Think you can hold off Peyton?”

“Who knows?” She laughed. “I think she’s got at least two more weeks. Oh, and speaking of property deals, guess who called me? Serena McFadden.”

“The woman who found my rental? What did she want?”

Beck took a deep breath, almost afraid to say the words, and she wasn’t sure why. They were so…monumental. To own something worth so much was daunting and, well, tempting.

Not that she’d ever sell, but still.

“She has a client who wants to buy Coquina House.”

“I’m sure she has ten of them,” he replied on a laugh. “That’s some prime property you’re on.”

“Well, this one made an actual offer. Seven figures, and, as she said, the first isn’t a one.”

He let out a whistle. “Well, they’re not making any more beach, and that sliver of Coconut Key is beyond unique. And your house is gorgeous.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Would you consider it?”

“Oliver! How could I even think about selling this house?”

He lifted a brow, silent, but she knew him so well. She knew what he was thinking.

If Lovely wanted to leave and Beck were willing to live half the year in Australia like he wanted…

She literally felt a little sick at the thought.

“I’ve upended my life once already,” she said softly. “Divorced my cheating husband, discovered my biological mother, reinvented myself in the Keys, and started a new business.”

“And you’ve fallen in love with an Aussie.”

“That, too,” she agreed. “Enough change for one middle-aged woman.”

He smiled. “No one would ever expect you to sell, move, or change a thing. Except…” He leaned in to whisper, “Six months in Wollongong, and six in Coconut Key. Doesn’t it sound perfect?”

“It sounds…”

Her cell phone flashed and vibrated on the desk in front of her.

“It sounds like Serena McFadden is texting me again.”

She picked up the phone and read the text, an invitation to have coffee later this week “and just chat.”

Chat about changing her life .

She took a breath and stared at the screen, then something caught her eye outside the window overlooking the wraparound porch. There, she saw Lovely and Eddie, their heads close in conversation, then both leaning apart with hearty laughs over some shared joke.

She moved her gaze back to the computer screen, to Oliver’s handsome and hopeful expression.

Everything could change. Everything .

“Beck?” Melody called from the living room. “Where are you?”

“I better go, Oliver,” she said, pushing back. “And you need to rest up for all that packing tomorrow.”

“Amen to that. Good night, beautiful Beck.” He blew her a kiss. “Trust the process, love, and don’t worry.”

She just smiled, holding onto his two-dimensional gaze until the screen went blank, unsettled by the whole conversation.

“Beck?” Melody tapped on her door. “Your sisters are out here looking for fun.”

Her sisters . Talk about life changes. “Come on in,” she called.

The door opened and Melody and Jazz stood side by side in sunhats and shades. “We’re ready!” Jazz said.

“For anything,” Melody added.

Laughing, she tucked her phone in her pocket without answering the text.

They exhausted the sights of tiny Coconut Key fairly quickly and made a few stops for B&B supplies, and by one o’clock, Beck, Mel, and Jazz needed food and a break.

Beck texted Peyton and got a recommendation for the perfect outdoor waterfront restaurant on Summerland Key, the next island over. Before long, the three women were happily ensconced at a four-top on the deck of the Blue Heron, gazing at the shallows of a channel that separated this island from Ramrod and the Torch Keys.

“Margaritas for everyone,” Jazz announced as the server approached. “Because isn’t this, like, actual Margaritaville?”

“Wait a second.” Mel leaned in and narrowed her eyes at Jazz. “Who kidnapped my workaholic sister and where is her phone?”

Jazz snorted. “Deep in my bag and call it the Jimmy Buffett Effect. Didn’t Dad meet him a few times?”

“Yes, but seriously, Jasmine Sylvester. I’ve never seen you like this.”

Jazz gave an easy smile that softened her features. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever been on vacation. I finally get it.”

“Then you need to come back again and again,” Beck said. “You will always have a place to stay at Coquina House.”

The other woman leaned over and put her hand on Beck’s. “Be careful what you wish for, sister of mine.”

Beck laughed, loving the term of endearment and the fact that she had sisters. While they chatted, the waiter came back with three massive margs, salt glistening on the rims.

They toasted their sisterhood, and Beck took what would probably be her one and only sip, because she was driving, but relished the tangy taste of the drink.

“So,” Mel said, leaning in with a conspiratorial glint in her dark eyes. “What do we think about Dad and Lovely?”

“Ooh.” Jazz’s brows shot up. “I guess Beck has to tell us what she thinks. After all, they are her biological parents—both of them—and only one is ours.”

Beck exhaled and looked from one to the other, trusting them but also knowing their respective loyalties ran deep. They would love and defend their father, and she would basically die for Lovely.

“Is he a ladies’ man?” she asked, not surprised it was the first question to pop out. She couldn’t stand it if Lovely got hurt.

The other two women shared a look and didn’t answer with a resounding, “No!” like Beck hoped they would, but she could tell that was because they wanted to be fully honest.

“He’s not a player ,” Mel finally said. “Not in the love ’em and leave ’em sense of the word.”

“He is, however,” Jazz added, holding her drink umbrella to make her point, “a man who falls in love easily. He’s basically in love with the idea of being in love.”

“But that’s not a fault,” Mel insisted quickly. “It makes him passionate and enthusiastic and probably the best boyfriend ever, but, yeah, falling for a woman is his happiest place. Not that it happens frequently, but when it does…”

“He’s all in,” Jazz finished.

“Hence, the songwriting,” Mel added.

Listening to it all, Beck considered a second sip. She really didn’t want Lovely to get hurt.

“So…he writes music when he’s with someone,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “So a woman is like…a muse?”

“Not exactly,” Mel said. “He can only write when he’s happy, probably because his songs are mostly happy love songs, very upbeat and optimistic. When he’s in love, the dopamine flows, then…he writes.”

“In love?” Beck scoffed. “They literally met a few days ago.”

“They met fifty-seven years ago,” Jazz corrected.

“But they didn’t know each other’s last names,” she countered. “I think this is more of a crush than love, don’t you?”

They stared back at her, neither one agreeing. Melody had a bit of amusement in her eyes and Jazz looked quite serious.

“They can’t be in love,” Beck said. “That’s not…possible. Or sustainable. Or realistic.”

“Anything’s possible,” Mel retorted.

“And sustainable, if they want it badly enough,” Jazz said.

“But not realistic,” Beck insisted. “They live three thousand miles apart with completely separate lives and families.”

“You’re family to both of them,” Mel reminded her.

“And I’m here,” she said. Unless she spent half the year in Australia like Oliver wanted her to do. Maybe Lovely would want to spend half of her year in California.

Her heart twisted and she gave in and took that second sip.

“They could do long-distance,” Mel said.

“Or someone could move,” Jazz suggested.

Beck felt her eyes widen. “Would he?”

“No,” Mel replied.

“Yes,” Jazz said right over her in the same tone, then they laughed. “Obviously, we don’t know,” Jazz assured her. “Mel would flip out, though.”

“And so would Lark and Kai,” Mel said. “My kids are so attached to him, it would kill them if he left. They both live at his ranch most of the time, which is twenty-five acres, just a few miles from Half Moon Bay. No one leaves that.”

“Well, my kids are attached to Lovely,” Beck said, suddenly feeling like she was drowning. “As am I. And no one leaves Coconut Key. Not willingly, any?—”

“Beck? I found you, Rebecca Foster!”

Yanked from the conversation, she turned, not knowing who to expect here, a good half-hour from home.

“Serena?” What was she doing here?

The Realtor breezed over, her cream-colored silk dress that hugged her curves and sky-high heels looking out of place for the Blue Heron but perfect for the hard-working agent.

“You don’t return my texts and now I know why! You’re socializing!” She flattened them with a blinding smile. “Girl! It’s like you don’t want money.”

Laughing, Beck stood to greet the other woman with a warm hug. “Is this a coincidence?”

“I could lie and say yes, but I’m not capable of it. I tracked you down by way of Peyton, who told me you were coming here. I had to see a house on Summerland Key anyway, so I thought I’d force myself on you.” She turned to the other women, extending her hand to Jazz first. “Serena McFadden, licensed Realtor and maker of dreams.”

“Jazz Sylvester…in awe of your beauty.”

Serena gave a hearty laugh. “Back atcha, Blondie.” Then she turned to Mel, who shook her hand.

“I’m Melody Davidson. Jazz and I are Beck’s sisters. Well, half, if we’re getting into specifics.”

“Sisters? Who knew?” Serena dropped right into the only empty chair as if the invitation had been extended. At least it ended the uncomfortable conversation they’d been having, Beck thought, even if it opened up another one that wasn’t exactly welcome.

“None of us knew,” Melody said. “You’re looking at a twenty-first century family—found on Ancestry.com.”

Serena’s jaw dropped. “Get out of town!”

“We were just talking about that,” Jazz joked. “I take it you two are friends?”

“Beck is my friend and client,” Serena explained. “I found Oliver’s rental and her daughter’s home. No baby yet, I heard.”

Beck shook her head, still processing everything. “But then you’ve talked to her more recently than I have,” she added with a teasing voice. “We’re literally looking at days now.”

“She certainly didn’t sound like she was in labor,” Serena said, flipping open her bag without taking her eyes off Beck. “But, girl, you’ll be in pain if you don’t at least consider this offer on Coquina House.”

“An offer?” Jazz and Melody practically sang the words in unison.

“A waste of everyone’s time,” Beck corrected. “I’m not selling Coquina House, not now, not ever. It was built by my grandparents and will be going to my daughters.”

Serena wasn’t listening, or at least not responding. Instead, she grabbed an unused paper napkin and wrote on it with a ballpoint pen. Then she folded it into a much smaller square and slid it across the table with the flair of a poker player.

“Just look at the number and know that this man will negotiate.”

Beck didn’t touch the napkin. “I don’t care what the number is. You can’t put a price on Coquina House.”

“Everyone has a price,” Jazz said with the air of a woman who’d been in many such negotiations as a venture capitalist. In fact, whatever that number was, add a zero or two for the kind of deals Jazz did.

“Not me.” Beck slid the napkin back, tucking it under the edge of a plate. “But thank you, Serena. Your determination is a thing of beauty.”

Far too classy to overstay her welcome, Serena stood, pointing a bright pink nail in Beck’s direction. “You haven’t heard the last from me.”

“I hope I never do,” Beck said. “You’re a treasure. But I can’t make anyone’s dreams come true because mine are all wrapped up in that house.”

Serena smiled and tilted her head with a sweet, pouty lip. “You’re the cutest, Beck. And you two? When you want to move here, call me.” She flipped open her bag and produced business cards, handing them out like candy on Halloween. “Bye-bye, long-lost sisters!”

She blew out with the same spirited breeze that brought her in. When she was gone, Beck just swept her hand to stop that conversation and, hopefully, the previous one.

“Now, I want to hear about Kai and Lark,” she said to Melody, who visibly brightened at the idea of talking about her kids.

Without much encouragement, Mel shared stories that painted a picture of two very different, but very lovable, offspring. She didn’t talk much about Gideon, her husband, but couldn’t stop gushing about her kids.

When it was time to leave, Beck snagged the check and slipped her credit card in the folder as the conversation easily moved to the fascinating business of running a record label and life in Northern California.

A long hour or so had passed when they finally stood and gathered their bags for the drive home. As they were walking back into the dining area to get to the parking lot on the other side, Beck remembered the napkin.

Should she leave it there? Should she see that number after all? Surely Lovely would want to know what the offer was, and she owed it to her partner to tell her.

“Hang on a sec,” she said, holding up a finger. “I forgot something.”

“Oh, good. I have to hit the ladies’ room,” Mel said, spotting the sign near the hostess stand.

“Same.” Jazz followed her.

Beck darted back through the restaurant to the outdoor deck, happy to see the table hadn’t been bused yet. She reached under the plate where she’d stuffed the napkin, but it was gone.

Frowning, she scanned the whole table, the only napkins used, crumpled, and on their small appetizer plates.

Maybe it had been bused. Maybe it had been scooped up by the server when they brought the check. Maybe it had blown into the water.

Maybe…she wasn’t supposed to know that number.

Satisfied with that, she joined her sisters and headed back home.