Chapter 48
OCEAN
That night, Ocean dreamed of newspaper “For Rent” ads, the most terrifying Santa Barbara nightmare.
She woke late and grumpy so she drove Riley to school in silence.
She was starving as she headed home, probably because she wanted to eat her feelings about Mrs. B using the Cottages as collateral.
For what? To help her bra-strap adjuster at the YMCA?
To redeem herself for lying to the cops during the previous murders? Or to help Ocean get a date?
Because c’mon. She liked CJ, she liked her brightness and enthusiasm and the noises she made when Ocean kissed her. But you don’t risk your home for someone after five dates! Hell, what did that say about Ocean, that she couldn’t find a woman if Mrs. B didn’t bail one out of prison for her?
So instead of planning a lesson for her students, she planned fat slices of toast slathered in butter.
She was halfway across the courtyard to her cottage when Sophie called out, “You’re heading the wrong direction!”
“You’re telling me,” she muttered.
“What?”
“What?”
“Didn’t you get Lily-Ann’s text? She’s taking us to breakfast at Régina’s.”
The perfect timing cheered Ocean. “Oh! Thank god! But why?”
“Secret Lily-Ann reasons.”
“Just us?”
“No boys allowed! She told Anthony he wasn’t invited.”
“I’m sure she communicated that very politely.”
“Oh, absolutely. She said, ‘You’re not invited.’” Sophie gestured toward the street. “Will you drive? We’re meeting her there.”
“Sounds good,” Ocean said.
She tried to stick to a strict work schedule, because she was terrified that if she slacked for two days in a row, she’d forget how to work.
But she needed a break—and Régina’s was forty bucks per person even before mimosas.
She couldn’t afford that, so screw her schedule.
She drove Sophie southward, then took the exit toward the bird refuge.
The restaurant looked shabby and cozy before you took in the quality of the mismatched silverware and the casually arranged pillows on the overstuffed furniture.
Sunlight flooded in from the front door, through arches that separated the bar area from the dining rooms. The air smelled of orange peel and cardamom—or something fresh and herbal.
Only a handful of tables were occupied on a weekday morning, so the murmur of conversation was barely audible beneath the classical music playing over the speakers.
Lily-Ann had chosen a table on a raised floor, beside a window with a view of the patio, where furled umbrellas rose above the tables.
She wore an elegant white blazer over an olive-green tank dress, while Sophie made thrifting look chic.
Meanwhile, Ocean was in brown carpenter pants and the chambray blue button-down she liked to teach in.
After the waitress returned with drinks, Sophie raised her orange juice and said, “To Lily-Ann’s sudden urge for coconut parfait.”
Ocean toasted her. “And her generosity.”
“So are you and Mrs. B okay?” Sophie asked Ocean. “I mean with each other?”
“We’re always okay,” Ocean admitted, almost grudgingly. “She wants to make her famous mamaliga tonight, which is her idea of an apology, and I managed not to tell her that Riley hates the texture of boiled cornmeal.”
“Ha. And what about CJ coming back today?”
“I’m trying not to think about that, thanks.”
Sophie flushed. “Oh, god, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“I’m kidding! I mean, I don’t know. I’m happy she’s out, of course. She won’t run or anything, I know that, but I’m still pissed at Mrs. B for risking the Cottages. And do I want the kids in the middle of another murder investigation?”
“Yeah, that’s a good point.”
Ocean let a little of her dismay creep into her voice. “I just need to take another ten years off from dating.”
“You don’t,” Lily-Ann said, in her flat way.
“Why’s that?”
“Because you are a remarkable woman,” Lily-Ann said, still in her flat way.
Ocean actually felt herself blush so she said, “Oh, shut up.”
Lily-Ann looked to Sophie for an explanation of that but Sophie just said, “I kind of wonder if Mrs. B set this up on purpose. I mean bailing out CJ. Like, now we have to keep investigating. We need to prove CJ’s innocence so the bank doesn’t repossess the Marigold Cottages.”
“You think she planned it?” Ocean asked.
“Well, I’m trying to think like a writer. In a play, everyone has ulterior motives, often concealed even from themselves.”
Ocean sipped her latte as she considered. “That’s crazy and manipulative. So, yeah, I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“And look at us now.” Sophie gestured with her menu. “It completely worked. Lily-Ann summoned the strike team to prove CJ’s innocence.”
“The strike team?”
“The special investigations unit of Marigold Cottages.” Sophie paused as the waitress walked past. “Except when there’s so little evidence, how do we prove she didn’t do it?”
Lily-Ann finally spoke. “There’s more evidence than you know.”