42. Sloane
“ T ournament starts in half an hour! Be there or be square!” Miriam hollers as she ambles past the open door, her four-pronged cane thumping with each step.
“Save me a seat!” Gigi hollers back.
The eighty-eight-year-old catches my eye. “Oh, hey, girl. Good to see you! Can’t stop. Gotta get the good table.”
I chuckle as Miriam vanishes down the hall. She’s been Gigi’s best friend for as long as I can remember and has lived in Palm Oaks for almost three years. We should have known Gigi would follow her here. “Tournament for what?”
“One of the fellas taught us how to play euchre and, boy, is it ever fun. You should come and join us. I think you’d like it.
Just not today. The competition is mighty fierce.
No room for beginners.” Gigi leans over to pat my knee before settling back into her rocking chair.
Her lengthy white-silver hair is freshly braided and fastened with a fuchsia elastic that matches her painted fingernails and the cardigan over her shoulders.
One of the high school girls who volunteers on weekends must have been by already. They always love coming to see her.
Gigi first mentioned moving to Palm Oaks after she fell down the stairs off our front porch and broke her hip. Recovery was long, and she struggled. Frank and I were getting quotes to build a ramp when she announced that she’d put down a deposit on a room.
Of course, Frank and I both argued against it.
As far as we’re concerned, the only place Gigi belongs is in her little cottage by the water and loitering in the Sea Witch to share stories about Mermaid Beach’s history to anyone who might listen.
We were so sure she would be miserable here, following scheduled mealtimes and bedtimes and their long list of other rules.
Ever the stubborn one, Gigi was adamant she knew what was best for her.
She was right, as usual. Gigi can fit in anywhere.
She’s soft-spoken and easygoing. No one expects her to be the type to adore horror movies, a well-timed cuss, and sweet treats—that last one so much so that her doctor warned her about developing diabetes, despite her slight stature.
She’s only five three and a hundred pounds—and yet to anyone who knows her, she seems larger than life.
She’s certainly always felt that way to me.
I steal a glance over my shoulder before digging out a paper bag from my purse that holds a macadamia nut scone. “You didn’t get this from me.”
Gigi snatches it from my grip and digs in. “My lips are sealed.” With her mouth full, she asks, “So, what’s new?”
Normally, I would spare her worries about the business, but today, I need Gigi’s nonjudgmental ear as I unload on her and confess my sins.
“Gosh, Dave too.” Gigi picks away at her scone. “But sounds like this director of whatever is helping you out.”
“More like helping himself out, so he can win brownie points with the big boss.”
“You’re splitting hairs, Sloane. He gets what he wants, you get what you want. Just take the win. Lord knows we need it against these big companies comin’ in and changin’ everything.”
“I haven’t won yet. We’ll see how many people I’m down next week. And, even if Ronan keeps his side of the deal, who says they won’t quit on me, anyway?” Are they unhappy at the Sea Witch, or is this a greener-grass situation? The case of the big and shiny distraction.
“It wouldn’t be the first time we lost staffers during high season.
I remember back in, oh, what was it now?
” She frowns at the ceiling. “Had to be ’02.
Sandy was still around. You were a wee thing.
” She smiles as she reminisces, the mention of my mother stirring foggy memories.
“Anyway, Bill Deckers started a business just like ours. That bastard poached my captains and half my beach workers. Paid them a dollar more an hour.” She harrumphs.
“All these years later and Sea Witch is still going strong. Where is Bill Decker?”
“Didn’t he die?”
“Well, yes, but before that, he was runnin’ from creditors. Don’t you worry. You’ll manage just fine.”
“Frank put up a Help Wanted sign in the window. I don’t know how long it’ll take to replace all three captains. Until then, I guess it’s me and Frank filling the gaps.” I still captain the tiki boats every now and again when we’re desperate.
“Lord help those poor people.” Gigi hoots with laughter. “I love Frank, but keep him on the shore.”
“I’ll be scheduling myself a lot,” I agree. One reviewer counted the times Frank smiled during their trip to Starfish Island—twice, and once it was because a patron fell off his chair.
I already feel better, just talking it out with Gigi, even if there’s no solution to be found at the end of the conversation. But Gigi has always had a way to make the biggest disappointments feel minor in the grand scheme of life.
Speaking of big disappointments …
“Cody came into the shop.”
“Oh yeah? What’d that scheming cockroach want?”
Gigi never liked Cody, but she kept her mouth shut until after we broke up.
She said she had learned her lesson with my mother, after getting into a row over a man from Texas my mother claimed she loved.
Angry, Mom ran off with the guy, only to show up back home two months later, heartbroken and pregnant. He had wanted her to get rid of it.
Of me .
To this day, I have no idea who my father is, and no interest in finding out.
“A reference letter for his time running the Sea Witch so he can work for Wolf.”
She snorts. “The only thing that boy ever ran was his damn mouth.”
“I told him he’s not getting anything from me. If he wants to work for Wolf, he’ll have to lie his way in.”
“If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s lying.”
“Yeah. Well, I warned Ronan about him, so we’ll see if Cody can sweet-talk his way into a job.”
Gigi studies me as she chews. “This hotel fella … any interest there?”
I falter on my answer. “I mean, there was until I found out who he worked for.” Not to mention the fact that he rejected me after I kissed him.
“And now you’re suddenly not interested? What should his job matter?” She scoffs. “It’s not like he’s dealing drugs. It’s a perfectly respectable occupation.”
“But he’s also a liar. Check this out.” I dig out my phone and open my photo album to the picture I saved last night.
“Oh dear, this isn’t what I think it is.” Gigi tsks. “You promised me you’d delete the Henry Wolf file.”
“I did, I swear! But something about Ronan seemed familiar, and I couldn’t figure out what.
Then he told me Henry personally hired him, and it triggered something, so I found the pictures again.
” I hold up my phone to show her a magazine photo of Henry Wolf alongside his groomsmen.
I’d seen wedding pictures before during one of my hate-stalking sessions—they weren’t hard to find, splashed all over the internet—but they were nothing more than a group of obscenely attractive people celebrating a man who was destroying our peace.
“ This is Ronan.” His dark hair is cropped short—nearly a buzz cut—and he’s less muscular, but there’s no doubt it’s him.
Gigi hums. “That boy’s face sure has been blessed.”
That’s an understatement. “But why was he one of Henry Wolf’s groomsmen? He said they aren’t friends.”
“I’m sure there’s an explanation.”
“Or he’s a liar.” And now he and Henry are laughing about the crazy rooster commune lady throwing herself at him. I can’t shake the humiliation I’ve worn since Ronan’s rejection. I never put myself out there like that.
Gigi’s face pinches with worry. “You know, sometimes I think it was a mistake taking up that fight with the hotel. Maybe it would have been better to cash the check. It’s just a little house on the water.”
I’m already shaking my head. “No, it’s our home.” It’s everything I grew up knowing. “Some billionaire doesn’t get to come in and force us out!”
My phone rings, cutting off my rant. Frank’s number shows up on my screen.
Gigi’s eyes light up. “Oh, let me talk to him!”
I throw the call on speaker.
“You haven’t come to see me in two weeks!” Gigi says by way of greeting.
“I know. I’m sorry.” Frank’s gruff voice carries. “I’ve been busy getting Rainbow Alley ready. I’ll come by tomorrow, if your granddaughter lets me have a day off, I promise.”
I roll my eyes, even as Gigi laughs. Frank wouldn’t take a day off unless I put a gun to his head. He could be dying and he’d pick up a shovel and dig the hole for his corpse, just so he had something to do.
“Sloane, you got a second?” Frank asks.
He wouldn’t bother me while I’m with Gigi unless it’s important. “Yeah, for sure. Hold on.” I slink away and turn off the speaker. “What’s up?”
“Three things. A guy came in askin’ for a job. Name’s Rolland. Local kid. Not much in the way of experience, and he’s scrawny. Not a fucking chance in hell he’ll be able to carry four chairs at a time, let alone eight, and a strong wind might blow him over.”
“You’re not really selling him to me.”
“He can start today. And he’ll build muscle.”
“Okay. Hire him, I guess. We need all the help we can get.” My arms and shoulders are screaming at me after loading and unloading umbrellas and beach chairs late into the night.
“You don’t want to meet him first?”
“At this point? Just check his references to make sure he’s not a criminal.”
“Consider it done. Also, AJ called in sick.”
I groan. And so it begins. Though I shouldn’t be surprised after yesterday’s run-in. “Anyone else?” We have two cruise bookings for the afternoon. Will Jeremy bail on me too? And what about Will? He’s supposed to be there to ready the boats.
“All good so far. I can play captain, but that means Mick and this new guy are on their own?—”
“No, I’ll cover AJ today. And every other day,” I add, checking my watch. My Saturday has officially been derailed, but this is par for the course when we’re in season, even without all the staffing issues. “What else?”
“Just got a call from Lover Boy.”
“ Who ?”