Chapter 3
Chapter Three
The sun dips toward the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over Tigertail Beach Country Club. I adjust my wide-brimmed hat, sip my margarita—perfectly balanced—and let the scene settle around me.
We lounge on plush beach chairs, our designer bikinis and gauzy sarongs a curated display of wealth and taste. It’s one of those perfect Florida evenings—the kind that makes you forget anything that isn’t sand, salt, or something cold in your hand.
Whitney leans back beside me, her hat angled just enough to shade her eyes. Her turquoise bikini sets off her tan like it was chosen for this exact moment.
“Did you hear about Julia’s latest?” she asks, already smiling.
I grin. “No. What’s our dear Julia done now?”
Whitney stirs the tiny umbrella in her pina colada. “She hosted a garden party last weekend and didn’t realize the gardener was on vacation. Her prize roses looked more like prize weeds.”
Laughter ripples through the group.
“Poor Julia,” I say, smiling into my drink. “A reminder never to trust your garden to a man named Rodrigo with a month-long vacation planned.”
Stephanie, sprawled to my left, lifts her glass. “To Julia and her wild jungle garden. May she find her way out someday.”
“Speaking of wild,” Tara says from Whitney’s other side, “did you see the new couple in the Stevenson house?”
“Oh, yes.” Whitney perks up. “From New York. Apparently, they have a thing for outdoor showers.”
Stephanie nearly chokes. “Outdoor showers? In Tigertail Beach Estates? That’s one way to meet your neighbors.”
The waiter approaches, all sun-bleached hair and easy charm, like he stepped out of a romance novel.
“Ladies, can I refresh your drinks?”
I hand him my empty glass, offering a soft smile. “Another margarita, please.”
“Pina colada,” Whitney adds, flashing him a wink.
As he moves down the line, the conversation hums back to life, easy and bright.
“Has anyone heard from Caroline?” I ask. “She’s been quiet since Italy.”
“Recovering,” Stephanie says dryly. “That woman treats carbs like a competitive sport when she’s abroad.”
Tara laughs. “I heard she tried to smuggle a wheel of parmesan home. Caused a full scene at customs when they took it.”
Whitney snorts. “Worth it. Italian cheese is worth a breakdown.”
The waiter returns, drinks in hand, smile unwavering. I take mine, letting my fingers brush his briefly.
“You’re a lifesaver.”
“Just doing my job, ma’am,” he says with a wink before moving on.
Whitney watches him go. “Is it just me, or does he look like he belongs on a movie set?”
“Not just you,” Stephanie says. “We’ll tip well. Keep him circulating.”
Laughter rises again, drifting into the rhythm of the waves and the distant cry of gulls. The sun burns lower now, a molten orange slipping toward the horizon.
“Back to Caroline,” I say, leaning into my chair. “She mentioned a new venture.”
“Please don’t say yoga,” Whitney groans. “We have more yoga studios than coffee shops.”
I smile. “Wine and yoga.”
Stephanie claps. “Finally. A class I can commit to. Downward Dog with a side of Merlot.”
We laugh, and for a moment, everything feels easy. Predictable. Safe.
That’s the thing about places like this.
Everything is always just as it should be.
Until it isn’t.
“Speaking of ventures,” Tara says, eyes bright, “Marcus and I are thinking about buying a vineyard in Greece.”
A collective gasp, then a flurry of questions.
“Greece? When did this happen?”
“Why Greece?”
Tara laughs, holding up her hands. “One at a time. We fell in love with it on our last trip. And Marcus has always wanted to make wine.”
Whitney lifts her glass. “To Tara and her Greek vineyard. May your grapes be bountiful and your wine always flow.”
We toast, the glasses clinking softly.
I look around at them—these women, these friendships—and feel a swell of something warm and familiar. Comfort, maybe. Or something close enough to it.
The sun slips beneath the horizon, leaving the sky streaked in pink and violet.
“Another perfect evening at Tigertail Beach,” I say.
Whitney smiles, slow and knowing. “Here’s to many more.”
And as we sit there, sipping our drinks and basking in the fading light, I know that no matter where life takes us, these moments, these friendships, will always be our anchor.