8. Lovely

L ovely read Beck’s text with an inexplicable thud of disappointment. Oliver was leaving for Australia… today ? And Beck would be gone the entire day and into the evening because she was taking him to the airport in Miami and doing some shopping up there.

Beck assured her that the Coquina House guests were all settled and Lovely could have the day and night free. Free to do what?

It was New Year’s Eve, for heaven’s sake, and she suddenly felt very much alone. Tomorrow was a family party at Savannah’s, but today stretched ahead—alone. That gave Lovely an empty sensation she didn’t relish at all.

Not that she’d expected Beck to spend the evening with her—she and Oliver had the Beach Table dinner planned.

Oh, wait. Was that not happening now? Should Lovely cancel the caterer? Beck hadn’t even mentioned it.

On a sigh, she dropped her head back on the sofa, the sting of unwelcome and unexpected tears behind her lids.

Why would she be weepy?

Since her family had blossomed over the last two years, the lonely blues, as she called them, had rarely plagued her. Before that, even with Jessie and her brother Josh living nearby, Lovely did get some bouts of solitude sadness, and sometimes spent days staring at the beach, trying to paint but mostly questioning her life’s choices.

Then she had the accident, met her dead sister in the afterlife, and finally, finally contacted Beck.

Once the truth was out, sadness disappeared. Not only had the weight of keeping a lifelong and life- changing secret been lifted, a new light shone brighter than the Florida sun.

Her relationship with Beck bloomed, the family tree grew, and they created the B&B, giving Lovely’s life purpose and non-stop laughter.

So, did one day without Beck mean she slipped right back into that hole of unhappiness? Of course not! She was too old to blame hormones, but something had been gnawing at her soul since…since…yesterday.

It definitely started yesterday, this low-grade hum of…something that made her sad.

With her eyes still closed, she could hear Pepper growling on the deck, a prelude to a bark. Basil shifted positions noisily from his bed as if he knew his break was over.

And on her lap, Sugar stirred and licked Lovely’s hand.

Like they were all telling her she was never, ever alone in her cottage full of terriers.

Lovely stroked the precious Westie, who gazed up with soulful brown eyes full of comfort and love. Lifting up the dog for a nuzzle and a kiss, she whispered, “No, my darling pup, I have you and Pepper and Basil. I should?—”

Pepper barked, one sharp noise, then a series of warnings—no doubt sending a message to a human who dared walk the beach that they mustn’t come any closer. The bark grew more insistent, so Lovely stood to go out to the screened-in deck and bring her in before she annoyed the beachwalker.

This stretch of sand and sea oats on the Atlantic-facing side of Coconut Key wasn’t a common place to find tourists, since the dead-end street that made up this little peninsula was secluded and off the beaten path.

But walkers did make their way out here, and Pepper had to let them know she didn’t approve.

She rounded the sofa and Basil followed, the two of them stepping out the sliding glass door to the real gem of her stilt beachfront home—the screened-in deck that ran the length of the house and faced the water.

Instantly, she saw the focus of Pepper’s attention—a man standing in the shallow water, letting the gentle waves lap his bare feet, his back to Lovely. And his silver ponytail falling just past his shoulders.

“Oh.” She drew back, feeling her eyes widen. “If it isn’t Eddie the Elderly.”

Pepper’s barking intensified, and Eddie turned, looking straight toward the cottage. Instantly, Lovely felt…something. What was it about that man?

Maybe she should find out.

“C’mon, doggies.” She lowered Sugar to the deck. “Let’s greet the man who made my name famous. He might need something, and Beck’s not there.”

But was that really why she felt compelled to talk to him?

The three dogs darted to the stairs that led to the beach, galloping ahead. Even with their tiny legs, they made it to the lower deck in a flash, then ran to the small piece of grass they used as their bathroom.

After a quick stop, they trotted to the sand, reaching the hard pack long before she did.

At the same time, Eddie strode toward her, laughing at the pack coming at him.

With each step, Lovely got a better look at him, noticing that he wore a loose cotton shirt and simple, baggy bathing trunks. Once again, she noticed he was fit for his age, which had to be close to hers, and carried himself with square-shouldered confidence that she’d always found attractive in men.

Not that she was…attracted.

Good heavens, was that what these blues were about? Hadn’t those hormones checked out twenty years ago? Could she…

No! Impossible. Otherwise… Oh, Savannah would never let her hear the end of it.

“Why is this woman smiling?” he called as they got closer.

Was she? “If you can’t smile in Coconut Key,” she said, “you can’t smile at all.”

“Catchy. Let’s give that line a tune.”

She laughed. “That’s right, you’re a songwriter. I hope you’re inspired by the view.”

He slowly lifted his sunglasses and propped them on his head, giving her a jolt at the sight of eyes the color of faded denim jeans—and just as welcoming.

“I’m utterly inspired, Lovely,” he said.

Oh… my .

“And who are these fine little fellows?” he asked, looking down at the two dogs who were barking, sniffing, and circling him.

Sugar stayed close to Lovely, gazing up with a question on her dear face.

“The brown and white Jack Russell is Basil, who will obey any command, and I do mean any . The one glaring at you is my personal bodyguard, Pepper, and she will not let anyone near me who hasn’t been properly sniffed and approved. And this is Sugar,” she said, bending over to pick her up and give the dog yet another reassuring kiss. “Attached, insecure, and sweet as pie.”

“I come in peace, Pepper.” He let the dog smell his hand, then tousled her rough coat with a friendly stroke. Still bent over, he looked up at her, one brow lifted. “Am I trespassing? I didn’t see a sign.”

“It’s not a private beach, just feels like one,” she said, petting Sugar’s head as she studied the man across from her. “Is everything okay at the B&B? My partner left for the day, so I’m here if you need anything.”

As he straightened, he took a breath as if…no. He couldn’t be nervous . But he did seem just a bit tentative before he spoke.

“I understand you’re the Lemonade Lady.”

“I’ve been called worse,” she replied with a tip of her head.

“Then I confess I’ve cleaned your B&B plumb out of the stuff, and have come to offer whatever you like for more. Cash, credit, or my firstborn—though I warn she’s a handful. Name your price. I appear to have a Lovely’s Lemonade addiction.”

She let out a laugh, delighted by the compliment.

“It’s the mint and basil,” she told him. “I soak some in with the lemon water, then strain out the leaves. Come on.” She waved him closer. “I just made two batches. Let’s get you some, Mr. Sly.”

He chuckled as he walked past the hammock to join her. “Yes to the lemonade, but no to Sly. It isn’t even my real last name. I’m actually Edward Sylvester. Eddie Sly was made up by an agent who thought it would sell more records. Who knew Sly and the Family Stone would make it so much bigger? Then along came that Stallone guy and he stole the brand.”

“Oh, music industry folklore,” she cooed. “I like that. But you registered at Coquina House under that name.”

“I kept it for business,” he said.

“Performing?” she asked as they started walking.

“Nope. Haven’t been on a stage in more years than I care to admit. After my one hit—thank you very much, Lovely—I moved into production and started a label, Sly Records.”

Not sure why he’d thank her, but the way he said her name gave her a little thrill. And so did the fascinating business of a recording label.

“I’ve always had such a passion for music,” she told him. “Wait until you see my vinyl collection. My great-granddaughter says it’s worth a fortune. A small one, but still.”

As he followed her toward the stairs, he looked up at the cottage, slowing his step to take in the home she’d lived in for more decades than she really wanted to admit.

“Speaking of worth a fortune, this is a dream piece of property, Lovely.”

She loved the reverence and respect in his voice, looking up to see the unassuming beach bungalow from his perspective.

“Well, it’s aging, humble, and comfortable,” she said, smiling up at him. “Much like her owner.” She tapped her chest. “I’ve lived here so many years, the locals just call it Lovely’s cottage.”

He tore his gaze from the house to study her. “Humble and comfortable, maybe,” he said. “But clearly young at heart.”

“Oh, good gracious, you are a poet.” She beckoned him to the stairs. “Now you get all the lemonade you can drink.”

Laughing together, they went inside, and she headed to the kitchen for glasses and ice while he took a look around the living area attached to the kitchen.

“It’s small, but the view’s nice,” she said, angling her head toward the sliders and the water vista.

“It’s beautiful,” he said. “Decorated by the same designer that did the B&B?”

“Designer?” she scoffed. “The B&B is all my talented daughter, who has quite an eye for décor. So, yes, she’s had some influence here. This place has been through a lot of iterations—everything from my seventies earth tones era to the Y2K glitter bombs. Now, apparently, I’m in my coastal chic phase, or at least that’s what they say on HGTV. Like, if you haven’t shiplapped, have you even decorated?”

Good gracious, she was rambling. She clenched her jaw and poured lemonade while he meandered through the room.

“Whoa!” He stopped in front of the bookshelf, which was really a floor-to-ceiling record collection, holding out his hands as if he might need to drop to his knees and worship.

She laughed at the reaction. “It’s vinyl or nothing for me.”

“Amen, sister!”

“Although I admit to getting a thrill from how easy it is with that Spotify stuff,” she added, hoping she didn’t sound too old school. Or just plain old.

“Easy if you hate your ears. Wow, this is impressive.” He reached for an album jacket and slid it out. “ Hotel California. Of course, a fan favorite.” He slid it back into place and skimmed the dust jackets. “Crosby, Stills & Nash. Carly Simon. Buffalo Springfield.” He nodded with approval. “Oh, Poco. So glad to see they made someone’s collection. And Carole King’s Tapestry . A classic of a bygone era.”

“My bygone era,” she said. “I’m a seventies folk-rock junkie.”

“I see that. And here’s Queen Joni. Lovely woman but, whoa, she can have a withering stare when she’s not happy.”

She gasped. “You’ve met Joni Mitchell? Now I am officially impressed. Possibly faint.” She rounded the kitchen counter, holding his tall glass. “I’m sorry you won’t find Electric Breeze. I don’t know why I don’t have a copy of…whatever album your song was on.”

“Because there never was one,” he said. “They only produced a single, and by the time we were able to get to a studio and record an album…” He shrugged and accepted the lemonade with a nod of thanks. “Label politics and band drama killed that career.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, picking up her own lemonade from the counter.

“Don’t be. It opened my eyes to where the real power and money is in pop music. The fall of Electric Breeze led me to a far steadier and more lucrative life on the production end.”

Reaching toward the middle shelf, he pulled out a well-loved copy of The Sounds of Echo Canyon , her favorite album from Rust & Harmony. Turning it over, he pointed to a small logo and the words Sly Records underneath. “I actually produced this one.”

“Really?” She glanced at the album cover with an image of a dreamy red-dirt canyon road that she’d studied for countless hours, memorizing every song—every note—on the vinyl disc inside. “ Wildflower Dreams ? Lullaby for the Lost ?” She closed her eyes and nearly swooned. “And please— When Embers Fade ? I cry at the first three notes.”

Pressing the album cover to his chest, he smiled. “I wrote that song.”

She nearly dropped her glass. “No!”

“I did. It’s about Lani, my first wife.”

“But it’s so sad!”

He chuckled. “We broke up once and I wrote that song while lost in a Hawaiian cornfield under the moon. We got back together a week later because we were fated mates?—”

“Another one of my favorite songs from that album.”

He angled his head, silent, but he didn’t have to say anything.

“You wrote that one, too?”

“Those songs all came out the year we decided to get married, so it’s close to my heart, too. John Rust had a haunting voice, rest his soul, and he nailed my lyrics.”

She stared at him, knowing she must be slack-jawed and starstruck, but she really didn’t care. “I can’t tell you how many, many hours of pleasure that album gave me. Solace and joy and inspiration to paint.”

“You’re a painter?” Both brows rose with interest.

She shook her head. “A dabbler who never sold much. Nothing like you.” She raised her glass to him, a huge smile pulling. “I absolutely don’t know how to thank you for writing songs that moved my heart so frequently—still, to this day. Thank you, Eddie. I am in the company of greatness.”

He toasted with his glass, giving her a smile that was humble and wistful and…wary, though she couldn’t imagine why.

“My glory days are long gone, Lovely, so it’s really nice to meet…a fan.”

She took a sip, then put her glass down and stepped toward the records, more comfortable with each passing minute. And far less lonely.

“Would you like to hear anything special?”

“I’d like to hear a yes.”

“Yes? The band?” She crinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I have any of theirs. It’s a little hard rock for me, but I…” At his amused expression, she let her voice trail off.

“I meant an actual yes,” he explained. “To the question I’m about to ask. Forward and bold, but they say you never hit a homerun if you don’t take a swing.”

“ Oookay. Ask away.”

“I was talking to Beck before she left this morning,” he said, shifting from one foot to the other. “I understand there’s a table on the beach and a caterer that can’t be canceled and fireworks for New Year’s Eve and…” He bit his lip in a sweet expression that reminded her of someone. Beck, maybe. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight, Lovely?”

She blinked at him, knowing a feather could have knocked her over.

“With your daughters?” she asked, because…well, was this a date ?

“Those two are just young enough to want to hit the Key West scene for New Year’s Eve. Personally, I’d rather have my eyeballs plucked out with sharp scissors. But dinner on the beach with a beautiful woman who loves the same music I do? Now that’s my idea of a good time.”

She drew back, a tiny bit breathless.

“I’d love to,” she said, softly and without hesitation. “What a wonderful way to end the year.”

“And…” He lifted his glass again. “Start a friendship.”

Instantly, her mood lifted. Goodness, how fast a day could shift from sad to sunshine and…Eddie Sly.

A tiny part of Lovely was disappointed that Beck wasn’t here to help her pick a dress and dish about her dinner date. Her daughter could fortify her with verbal encouragement and maybe one tiny sip of a “momosa,” as Savannah called Beck’s favorite drink.

Probably better this way , Lovely decided as she flipped through her array of maxi dresses, looking for something simple and understated. This wasn’t a serious date —it was two people who’d been ditched by their daughters and wanted company for New Year’s Eve.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t fun or special. That didn’t mean it wasn’t her first date in…this century.

Drawn to a pink and purple V-neck maxi with bits of gold threads in the fabric, she pulled out the dress and pressed it to the front of her bathrobe, looking in the mirror.

“Too…try hard-y, as Ava would say?” she asked the most faithful of her companions.

Sugar shuddered out a sigh and flopped her tail.

“I agree! You only live once, baby girl. Let’s wear it!”

She slipped on the dress then added a bit of makeup, covering the mostly-faded scars that reminded her that, actually, she had lived twice. And that was all the more reason to go on a dinner date with the man who’d written some of her favorite songs.

Next, she fluttered the long silvery hair she’d washed and dried earlier, separating sections for her standard braid. Then her fingers stilled. She inched back and looked at herself in the mirror, and, on a whim, abandoned the braid.

Nope. She’d wear it loose tonight. At the end of December, even Coconut Key wasn’t crazy humid, and she wanted to be a little free tonight. This long-haired songwriter brought that out in her, she admitted to herself. He made her feel…something.

She just couldn’t figure out what it was.

Slipping on a pair of gold sandals, she grabbed a bag, gave the dogs some treats, and headed out to the Beach Table, where they’d planned to meet.

The caterer had called and said they’d completed the set-up for the dinner that had been booked for Beck and Oliver. So Lovely wasn’t surprised to see the table arranged for two and covered in a soft linen cloth. There were warming dishes, an ice bucket, and lanterns flickering along the boardwalk that led to the intimate spot on the beach.

A few feet away, Eddie stood with his hands locked behind him, staring out at the water, seemingly unaware she’d arrived. He wore a white linen shirt with the long sleeves rolled up his forearms and khaki pants, the look perfectly casual but not sloppy. She appreciated that.

Lovely slowed her step and studied him, struck one more time by that indefinable feeling she got when she looked at him. And, oh, how she wanted to define it.

Was this a spirit-to-spirit pull that some called chemistry and others called attraction? Yes…but it was different, too. It was a tap on her heart when she noticed a gesture or expression, a sensation when she looked into his eyes.

He seemed…familiar.

And that begged a whole host of questions. Of course, she’d never met him before and she didn’t believe in past lives, but…she believed in the one that came after this one. After all, she’d been there.

Could she have met this man in that two-minute brush with the afterlife? In that time, she remembered seeing faces. Some she recognized, some strangers, and some were people she knew to be alive, which she didn’t understand. She’d only talked to her sister, Olivia, in her brief brush with the Great Beyond, but she had seen…others.

That otherworldly experience had convinced her that she simply wasn’t done here on Earth. As her life changed and her relationship with Beck blossomed, she’d always assumed she’d been sent back for that reason. But…what if there was more?

Maybe Eddie was here to teach her a lesson. Or perhaps he was the “soulmate” she’d long ago given up hoping to find. Maybe…maybe…he was her person ! Her own fated mate.

She nearly whimpered at the idea.

Lovely Ames had spent a lot of her life waiting, wondering, hoping, and aching for what she believed was her One True Love. He never showed. There’d been men in her life, a suitor now and again, even some who’d risen to the rank of…boyfriend.

Like she and Beck joked, the word seemed inappropriate now, especially for Lovely so deep in her very golden years.

She’d given up hope of ever finding him. Still, she listened to the music of her “younger girl” era—some of which this man actually penned—and longed for something that never?—

He turned and sucked in a soft breath, ending her thoughts. “Wow. You look beautiful.”

A shiver whispered over her skin, despite the warm evening air.

“Thank you,” she said, angling her head and fluttering the skirt with one hand. “I hope I didn’t overdress.”

“For New Year’s Eve? There is no such thing.” He came around the table and held out his hand. “You’re perfect.”

She smiled at the compliment. “I’m going to have to remember you are a wordsmith and not take anything you say tonight too seriously.”

He’d started to pull out a chair for her, but froze at her statement. “Please don’t do that, Lovely. I want you to believe everything I say tonight. I want to—I have to—be honest.”

She hesitated for a second, looking into his crystal blue eyes. She wanted to ask what he meant by that, but she was suddenly transported…somewhere. Those eyes, that expression, it was…yes, familiar.

“What is it?” he asked, sounding concerned by whatever expression she wore—probably confusion.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I just…” She studied his features, certain she’d never seen him before yesterday, not in person, at least. But those eyes reminded her of… Dang , she couldn’t think of who it was.

“Thank you,” she finished, slipping into the chair and looking over the table while he took the seat across from her, taking in the cloche covers, the crystal and china, and two tall green bottles perched in ice.

“Goodness. Two bottles of champagne?” She laughed. “You do intend for honesty.”

“That’s sparkling cider for me,” he said, sliding his chair closer. “And you, if you prefer. I actually don’t drink.”

“Ah, okay.” She eyed him as he lifted the bottle, nodding. “I’ll try that cider, then, yes, thank you.”

He popped the top and poured two flutes with hands that…why, goodness, he was trembling ever so slightly. Age or anxiety?

He looked over the bottle and followed her gaze. “Guess I’m more nervous than I realized.”

Leaning back against the chair, she gave him a warm and genuine smile. “I promise you, if anyone is intimidated by this, it’s me. I’m terrified I’ll go all fan-girl, as the kids say, and start reciting your lyrics.”

He poured a glass, let it fizz, then topped it, repeating the move on the other one without saying a word.

On a sigh, he handed her one glass and took the other, still silent as he looked at her with an expression she simply couldn’t read. All she could see was…fear.

Why?

“Eddie,” she said, suddenly longing to rid him of that. “There’s no need to be tense. There are no expectations.” She lifted her glass. “What should we drink to?”

He looked across the table, his eyes glistening with…tears? What the heck?

“I’m…sorry, Lovely.”

She lowered her glass, her heart crawling into her throat. Something was very, very wrong with this moment and this man. Chills exploded on her arms and the hairs at the nape of her neck rose. A deep, dark foreboding pressed on her chest.

“I wanted to have dinner first,” he said in a gruff, thick voice, which only made her more concerned. “I wanted to have a light conversation and get to know each other and laugh some more. I love your laugh,” he said. “It’s musical. It hits a minor note that appeals to me.”

She took a steadying breath, barely hearing anything after his first sentence. “Dinner…first… Before what?”

He visibly swallowed, his eyes cast down again. “Before I tell you…but I can’t just chat over dinner until I do.”

“Tell me what?”

He finally looked up, his gaze so direct and powerful it felt physical. Like he could touch her and affect her and… What was this all about?

Silent, a tear rolled from his eye down his cheek, shocking her, stealing her next breath, and making everything in her feel all those same feelings of attraction and familiarity and…and… Oh, heavens, no !

That’s who he was!

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, already pushing back his chair. “Lovely, I’m so, so sorry for what happened that night. It was wrong and unplanned and wild and…and I don’t know how to ever make it up to you.”

With a soft cry, she pressed both hands to her lips, her whole being transported and lost and vibrating with disbelief. “You are…”

“Ned.” He breathed the short, distasteful three-letter name that was always synonymous with shame and regret and fate and…and…

How was this possible ?

He was up and around the table before she could comprehend what was going on. He dropped to his knees next to her, reaching for her, his tears real.

“Please forgive me. Please don’t be angry. Please, Lovely. I came to find Beck and I had no idea…I thought you were…it said her mother was…gone.”

She shuddered a sob of shock and disbelief, fighting the urge to…run. Everything in her wanting to throw her body out of this moment and tear down the beach, away from her mistakes, back to the safety of solitude and the life she’d built.

She didn’t want to face this! She didn’t want to face him .

But he held her in place with strong, steady hands that didn’t tremble now. He looked at her with blue eyes that had once seduced a young girl and never really left her memory. He wouldn’t let her run away, so she did the only thing she possibly could…

She grabbed his shoulders with two hands, squeezed with all her might, and cried.