Chapter Seventeen
Amiya
T he Sapphire Tide is an impressive restaurant with oceanfront dining and breathtaking panoramic views of The Point, which is the northernmost tip of the island, where the Atlantic Ocean and the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway merge. Tonight is the venue’s grand opening. Lisa and Savannah secured a reservation with prime seating next to the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out at the gorgeous sunset over the water.
The elegantly dressed hostess offers us a complimentary glass of champagne as she guides us to our table, where we are greeted by our server, who gives us a rundown of the night’s special menu and passes us their handcrafted cocktail and wine list.
“Wow, this place is something else,” I muse.
“Right? We could see it from the top deck at Eden’s house and wanted to try it, but reservations were impossible to get, so we recruited Sabel’s help, and she was able to work a miracle and get us in tonight,” Lisa says.
That makes sense. Mrs. Sabel Hollister is the grande dame of Sandcastle Cove after all.
“After dinner, we have a table reserved on the patio that’s built over the water. There’s a massive bar and stage out there. There will be live music until ten,” Savannah says.
Lisa selects a nice Lewis Cellars Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon for the table, and the restaurant’s sommelier comes to present the bottle and offer her food pairing suggestions.
The meal is an amazing five-course experience. Starting with oysters with caviar and champagne foam and ending with a lemon meringue tart with fresh berries.
The head chef—a silver fox—makes his rounds and speaks to each patron.
“Hello, ladies. I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Chef Paul. How was your dinner?” he asks when he makes it to us.
“My God, that halibut and saffron risotto was perfection. I’ve never had a better beurre blanc sauce. Seriously top-tier,” I reply.
The girls agree and offer their own compliments.
“I’m happy you enjoyed it, and I hope you’ll join us again so I get another chance to impress you,” he says before excusing himself.
“Handsome, and he cooks. I wonder if Chef McHottie is single,” Savannah coos.
“You’re not single,” Lisa points out.
Savannah sighs. “I know, but Amiya is, and we can live vicariously through her,” she says.
“Speaking of, when are your husbands arriving?” Avie asks.
“Next week. Bobby’s picking the girls up from the in-laws’ house on Sunday, and they’ll drive up on Monday morning,” Savannah says.
“Sam’s in Chicago, and he’s flying in on Sunday morning,” Lisa adds.
“That’s great. They’ll be here in time to enjoy the island,” Avie says.
“Yeah, I told Sebby to include them when the guys do their big deep-sea-fishing excursion. Bobby’s really looking forward to it.”
We finish dessert, and Savannah and Lisa insist on taking care of the bill.
“Are we ready to move this party outside?” Lisa asks as she tucks her credit card back into her purse.
“Lead the way,” Avie says.
We make a quick stop in the ladies’ room before we’re led to the sprawling raised wooden deck that extends into the water. Patrons are protected from the crashing waves by plexiglass walls that extend high above the railing but still allow for unobstructed views of the Atlantic. Elegant high-top cocktail tables and plush seating are scattered across the deck, framed by potted palm trees and soft ambient lighting. Every detail exudes sophistication—from the sleek, minimalist furniture made of teak and natural stone to the carefully curated tropical plants that border the small, raised stage and give the space a lush yet polished feel. The bar itself is a showpiece, made of polished marble with an aquatic-themed mosaic and a backlit display of premium spirits.
Low-lit lanterns dot the tabletops and create a warm, inviting glow as dusk turns to night.
Savannah leads us to our table in the far corner to the left of the bar as a young girl with an amazing voice and her accompanying guitarist take the stage.
“Wow, so posh,” Avie says as we settle in.
“Right? This place belongs on Miami’s South Beach,” I say.
“I’m excited to have something like this on our tiny island. No one lives in a small town because it has high-rise condos and big, fancy malls. It’s because of its charm. Mom-and-pop stores. Locally owned restaurants, where your high school friend’s aunt cooks her family’s special recipes. We aren’t Miami or Daytona or even Myrtle Beach. We like it that way, and I love the laid-back atmosphere, but a girl likes to get dressed up and enjoy a night of decadence every now and again,” Avie muses.
It’s true. Sandcastle Cove is an oasis, a hidden gem, and I’m so happy it has embraced Avie and Leia as its own. I love spending every second I can here with them, and I ain’t mad at this new nightlife option either.
We walk out of the front of the restaurant at ten and find Sebastian standing beside his Bronco.
“Ladies, your chariot awaits,” he says as he opens the front and rear passenger doors for us to file inside, placing a kiss on Avie’s lips as she slides into the front seat.
“Did you have a good night?” he asks.
“The best,” she murmurs.
Before closing her door, he beams at her. Literally beams. It’s the sweetest thing, the way he looks at her with so much love.
We drop Lisa and Savannah off first and then make our way to the cabana, where Leia is waiting with her uncle Lennon.
Avie stays in the car while Sebastian walks me inside. He scoops a sleeping Leia off the couch and carries her to the door.
“Do you need help getting her down?” Lennon asks as he follows Sebastian out onto the deck.
“Nah, I got her.”
“Thank you for the ride,” I call.
“You’re welcome.” Sebastian turns and glances back at me over Lennon’s shoulder and smirks. “You two enjoy the rest of your night.”