5. Eli
T he traffic was just this side of wretched on 98, but the moment Eli turned onto Gulf Shore Drive and saw the blue-on-blue horizon of the beach, everything was good in the world.
Maybe not everything, he thought, glancing into his rearview mirror with no sign of Vivien behind him. They’d gotten separated just past Santa Rosa Beach, but she couldn’t be too far behind.
Shame they couldn’t drive together because he’d love to hear her reaction to how much this little slice of paradise had changed in thirty years.
To his right, as he drove east along the Gulf, the neighborhoods spilled off into a warren of streets and canals. The houses were shoehorned along the roads, a mix of older but remodeled Florida ranch homes, newly built modern coastal beauties, and an endless sea of townhouses and condo complexes.
But on his left, beachside, was a whole different story. One lot after another, each featuring a unique dream home with a Gulf view that offered residents a panorama of sand, sea, sky, and the most breathtaking sunsets imaginable.
The homes were two or three stories, with a smattering of widow’s walks, balconies, and picture windows. A few were utterly gorgeous, some were contemporary eyesores, but almost all had long driveways, stunning views, waterfront swimming pools, and private boardwalks over the sea oats and sand dunes to the glorious waters of the Gulf.
He slowed his truck when he reached the orange construction barriers and black plastic temporary fencing that outlined their lot. Only one truck was on the street, which had to be Jorge, the tile guy who was replacing a few cracked porcelain tiles in the back.
Eli pulled into the paver-covered driveway and stopped the truck, looking up at what he had to admit was an absolute masterpiece on the beach.
Not the most expensive home on the block, but certainly one of the most beautiful. And, at three creamy stories trimmed with modern balconies and huge windows, it sure was a far cry from what it once was.
He sat there a few minutes, part of him taking in the beauty, another part already creating the latest punch list. The apartment above the garage had windows installed now, but he knew that inside there was a gaping hole of nothing. On the house, the shutters weren’t all hung yet. The second-floor railing still had to be painted, and…wait a second.
Was that an open window on the third floor? Not good. He’d have to have a talk with the GC, Don Eveland. In fact, he’d?—
He turned at the sound of a car, spotting Vivien’s Highlander pulling in behind him.
Climbing out, he couldn’t help smiling at the look of astonishment on her face behind the steering wheel.
“Eli!” She leaped out of her SUV, her dark blond hair blowing back as she stared at the structure. “No! This cannot be the same place.”
“It isn’t,” he assured her. “We flattened the old beach house, I’m sorry to say. I saved the front door, which is in the garage. And a few of the interesting knobs, and remember the wavy glass windows in the old sunroom where Peter and I bunked? I saved the glass and some floorboards that could be repurposed into shelves. Other than that, this is the Summer House, two-point-oh.”
“Two-point-oh, baby!” she joked. “You should get a little sign on the mailbox that says ‘Summer House,’ and make our family name for the place official.”
He shrugged. “Whoever buys it might call it something else.” He put an arm around her and guided her past the oversized garage door toward the stairs up to the entrance. “Come on?—”
“Wait, wait.” She held up both hands and stood firmly on the pavers, pushing her sunglasses up on her head to take another look. “Let me process. First of all, are you sure we’re in Destin and not, like, Southern California? This can’t be the same town.”
“It’s huge and pricey and crowded,” he acknowledged. “But it’s got a vibe, doesn’t it?”
“I’m glad we got to experience the old Destin,” she said. “But I’m excited about having a house to sell in this Destin.”
“Right? I’ve talked to enough locals to know that the last year we were here was kind of the beginning of the change.”
“The hurricane?” she guessed.
“Yep. After they cleaned up from Opal and started rebuilding, people discovered this place and came in droves.” He ushered her toward the stairs. “Come on. First floor—beach and pool level with a rec room, two small bedrooms and a bath. And above the garage, what could be a two-bedroom apartment for rental income. But let’s start on the main living level. That’s the wow factor.”
“The whole thing is a wow factor,” Vivien gushed. “This place is going to be a blast to decorate.”
“It’s a clean slate.” At the top of the stairs, he entered the code on the front door lock. “I had to make some decisions without you—tile, floors, the basics. But beyond that, you can go nuts. We’ll need window treatments, built-ins, decorative trims, and, of course, paint, furniture, and art. It’s all yours, Viv.”
With that, he swung open the glass and wood door and backed up so she could go in first, laughing as she squealed and gasped.
“Look at that view!”
The entryway led into a large living area, open to a glistening gourmet kitchen, all facing a patio that ran the length of the house. And beyond that a water view that was, of course, the main event.
Despite the popularity of Destin, this beach was almost always deserted. It wasn’t technically private, but if a visitor didn’t live in one of the houses on the beach, it was next to impossible to get to the sand. And that only added massive value to the property.
“This is the heart of the home,” he said, his voice echoing in the empty house. “I laid it out for living, cooking, gathering. Right down that hall is an office, an extra bedroom with an ensuite, a powder room, and a huge laundry room—washer and dryer are already installed.”
He took a breath while she walked slowly over the pale wood floors, enjoying the enraptured look on her face.
“Upstairs there are three bedrooms, all main-suite quality,” he added. “Six bedrooms total counting the two on the first floor. And, of course, the unfinished apartment over the garage. It can be a vacation getaway, a dream home, or money-generating high-end rental, all of which are in major demand in this market.”
She stood in the middle of the living room, put her hands on her cheeks, and spun around, taking it in. “It’s perfection! Eli, you are an absolute genius.”
“Aw, thanks, Viv.” He never wanted to be prideful, but it was almost impossible not to get a boost to his ego seeing this house through another person’s eyes. And hers were trained to know excellent construction, so Vivien’s opinion meant more than most. “It really needs your touch.”
“I can’t wait,” she said on a laugh. “The light is incredible. The view, the openness—oh, the fireplace, too! Look at that stacked stone!” Her golden-brown eyes danced with enthusiasm. “I can’t believe we own this!”
“Right? Well, Maggie does. But cha-ching, sister. This place is going to go for a hefty price.”
“Yeah, I guess.” She sighed, sounding as if that hefty price didn’t thrill her at all, which was weird.
She wandered into the kitchen, her fingers grazing the granite countertops, lingering over the beveled edge. “Went for the waterfall island, I see. So elegant.”
“We’ll want to attract high-end buyers, who want top of the line in everything.”
She didn’t answer, and he eyed her, definitely picking up…something. His sister was usually an open book, but he wasn’t quite reading this reaction.
“You like it, right?”
“You’re kidding, I hope.”
“You seem…wistful.”
She laughed. “Only because we have to sell it.” She turned from her examination of the walk-in pantry. “I never want to leave.”
“You can stay here, Vivien. All summer, if you want.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That would be…a questionable career choice. I can’t build a business in Atlanta on one job in Destin.”
He acknowledged that. “Well, it’s yours until…”
“Until it’s not,” she said, sounding a little sad again. But she pressed her hands on the pantry door. “Did you say you kept the front door to the original house?”
“Yeah, it’s in the garage.”
“It had leaded glass,” she said. “I remember you could peer through one diamond in the middle and see who was coming up the driveway.”
“It still has the same glass,” he told her. “I kept it because I knew you’d love it.”
“Yes! I could use it right here on the pantry, or…” Her expression changed. “Wait. You knew? Like, you’ve known all along I’d stage this place?”
“I hoped,” he said. “But I couldn’t say anything because…”
“I know why. I totally get it and I’m beyond grateful for your faith in me.” She turned again, checking out the oven and gourmet gas stove. “I love this look with the gold accents.” She pulled the refrigerator door open and gave a soft laugh. “Goodness. Your workers have expensive taste.”
“What?” He came closer, spying a few cans of some fancy flavored sparkling water.
She pulled out a narrow can. “Pellegrino Essenza. Not your usual painter’s drink.”
He made a face. “I don’t care what they drink, but they shouldn’t store it in a brand-new multi-thousand-dollar fridge. Why don’t you make yourself at home while I go talk to Jorge, my tile guy? I’d like to know who’s been in here last and he might have a clue.”
“All right. I’ll nose around upstairs.”
She took off and Eli scowled at the offending cans of water. Turning, he eyed the kitchen, suddenly noticing that it didn’t look entirely…perfect. Was that a crumb on the counter?
Pulling the handle of the trash drawer, he inhaled sharply at the sight of a plastic supermarket bag hanging inside in the place of a container he hadn’t yet inserted.
A bag holding an empty Starbucks coffee cup.
Fighting the urge to swear, he yanked out the bag and rumpled it up, heading outside by way of the construction Dumpster, where he tossed the trash.
He’d have to stay here until the project closed. If that meant doing some things himself, then so be it. His general contractor was never around—nor did he expect him to be. But the subs had to get under control.
He wandered down the side of the house to the pool deck, another masterpiece of design.
The expansive 30-by-30 square pool was dramatic with bright teal waterline tile and a contemporary edge. When the pool was filled—hopefully in the next few weeks—it would drop off an infinity side opposite a sun shelf and be a huge selling point in this house.
“Hey, Mr. Lawson.” Jorge Masa looked up from where he crouched, replacing a porcelain square that had chipped during the initial install. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s amazing,” Eli said, walking around the perimeter to greet the other man.
They chatted about the job for a few minutes, ironing out the details of some artificial turf that would be installed along one side.
After a moment, Eli tucked his hands into his pockets, and asked, “Have any of the other subcontractors been in the house recently, Jorge?”
He looked up, his dark brows pulling. “Not that I’ve seen, sir. It’s been all outside work this week and last. I suppose Mr. Eveland might have been in and out, though.”
But would his GC leave water in the fridge and a Starbucks coffee cup in the trash? Maybe, but it seemed out of character.
After saying goodbye, he walked back into the house, passing through the family room and jogging back up to the main living area. Not seeing Vivien, he turned and walked up the stairs, his architect’s eye admiring the landing four steps up and the window behind it, the whole design both beautiful and functional.
“You up here?” he called as he jogged up to the top floor.
“In the primary suite, although they’d all qualify for that honor.”
He followed his sister’s voice to the biggest bedroom in the house, which featured a gas fireplace, a walk-in closet, and a full wall of windows leading out to a balcony.
Vivien was standing out there, braced against the railing like a sun worshipper who’d been starved for the light.
“This is the money shot,” he said when he walked out.
“Oh, Eli. I can’t.”
He came closer, smiling at how she lifted her face and let the sun shine on it. She didn’t look like a woman about to turn fifty, he mused, although this past year had given her a few lines and some silver threads in her burnished gold hair.
“You can’t what? Wait to start your design?”
“I can’t stand that people get to live like this and I’m in a townhouse in Brookhaven with a view of the parking lot on one side and the next-door neighbor on the other.”
“Your neighbor is right there,” he said, pointing to the three-story stucco home about thirty feet away.
“Completely different, and you know it,” she said, that same melancholy in her voice. “I’m just…achy. I love it here. The smell. The sounds of the sea. The way the clouds move and the waves come in and, oh, that sand. I’m painting the walls that color in every room. Destin White.”
He chuckled. “Sounds perfect. By the way, did you see a window open up here?”
“I think in the bathroom,” she said.
“Heads will roll,” he muttered, heading back inside to check it out. In the ensuite, he spotted the window, open wide enough to let rain in.
As he closed it, he heard Vivien come in.
“This is a magnificent spa bathroom,” she said. “I love the finishings you picked.”
“I did my best, but really wanted your input on the pulls.”
She grabbed one of the handles of the vanity. “The gold is stunning,” she said, sliding the drawer open. “And— whoa . What do we have here?”
“Now what?” he asked, coming closer to look in the drawer and spy?—
“A toothbrush ? What the heck?” Ire marched all over him. “First water, then coffee remnants, now this. I have to go call the GC. Don’s guys are not supposed to be using this place as their own private residence. Who would do that?” He scowled at the offending toothbrush.
“Um, a finishing carpenter with good oral hygiene?”
“Not funny,” he said, pulling out his phone as it vibrated. He glanced at the text and looked at her. “Oh, good news. The bed delivery will be here in a few minutes. And Meredith said all the sheets and towels are on their way, too. And ‘a bunch of other stuff you guys will need.’”
“That girl is a gem,” Vivien said with a smile.
He couldn’t agree more, but the toothbrush got his attention again. “I’ll get it out of here for you, Vivien.”
“For me? I don’t get the big room. You’re the oldest.”
He smiled at her. “You’re the one who wants to live in this place so bad it’s written all over your face.”
“Who wouldn’t?” she teased. “But, seriously, I can have this room? All by myself?”
He pointed to the toothbrush. “You and the squatter.”
She jabbed his arm. “I thought you said it wasn’t funny.”
It wasn’t. While they waited for the beds to be delivered and set up, he called Don Eveland, his general contractor, who swore it wasn’t his guys.
Yeah, right.
By the time sunset rolled around, Vivien and Eli were on the upstairs deck, parked on two folding canvas chairs Vivien had wisely packed in her SUV. While he dealt with some house issues, she’d gone to Publix and got them stocked up with a few essential food and drink items, including the makings for a couple of gin and tonics that hit as nice as the sun on the water.
She bought a small plastic table they’d placed between them, where they had chips and guac, happy as clams with this setup.
After toasting Solo cups and sipping, Vivien took out her phone, trying to capture the sunset.
“For Lacey?” he guessed.
“Yes, but I’m trying not to make her too jealous.” She lowered the phone and glanced at him. “She begged to come with me on this trip. And by begged, I mean pulled out all the stops, even making an announcement that she hates everything that has to do with houses, and that includes her job at Ryan Knight Homes.”
He drew back, surprised. “I didn’t know she hated working there.”
“She just hasn’t discovered her career path. I know she thought a business degree would be the ticket, but she hasn’t found the right business. Every job is entry-level, which is fine, but just not exciting enough for her. Still, she’s twenty-four and it’s time to get in the groove.”
“Tell that to my nearly-thirty-year-old son who’s living in a van and picking up line cook gigs.”
She grimaced. “Poor Jonah. He’ll come around.”
Eli waved off the conversation, not ready to ruin the moment with a walk through his abject failure as Jonah’s father.
“At least Lacey has a job,” he said, not wanting to make the conversation about him.
“With Ryan.” She curled her lip.
“I’m sorry for being so absent these last few months, Viv. I know you understand why, but I honestly thought this was a fairly amicable divorce. I mean, you accepted it.”
“Because that’s what I do,” she said dryly. “I accept. Need a doormat for that pretty front entry? I’m your girl.”
“Stop it,” he said. “You are not a doormat. You are not confrontational, that’s all. You like harmony and peace, and were raised by a controlling woman who taught you that life is just easier when you agree to what others want.”
She pointed one finger at him. “Nailed it.”
“I was raised in the same house by the same mother,” he said. “It’s just not the same when you’re the oldest and a son. She needed me in a different way when Dad died.”
“I’ve spent my life being a Yes Man to my mother and my husband. I would really, really like that to be over.”
“It is.”
She shot him a dubious look.
“I mean it. Forgive the worst cliché imaginable, but today really is the first day of the rest of your life.”
She snorted on her next sip. “Stick to the Bible, bro.”
“Fine, I will. ‘His mercies are new every morning.’”
“And that means…”
“You’re starting over,” he said. “For one thing, you are truly launching your brand—Vivien Lawson Designs—and you don’t even have a client breathing down your neck. You’re free.”
She let out a sigh and stared straight ahead at the horizon. “Here? I can almost believe that,” she said. “There’s something in the air in this place that is like a great big whiff of freedom and joy and not answering to anyone. It’s summer on steroids and we had such good ones here.”
“We sure did,” he said.
“And don’t worry about Jonah,” she added. “He’ll roll back, you’ll see.”
He appreciated the thought, but had doubts. Lots and lots of doubts. “He never recovered from walking into the principal’s office one day to be told his mother was dead. He was a superstar up to that point, just like Meredith—maybe even more motivated, if that’s possible. But that moment, a switch flipped and…” He sipped his drink, hurting and hating the tightness in his throat. “He changed. We all did, obviously. I recovered. Meredith rebounded. But Jonah?”
Vivien reached over and put a hand on his arm. “Let’s not talk about it. Let’s just bask in the Destin sunset and the monumental accomplishment of this house and the fact that we own it.”
He tipped his cup to hers and they toasted again. “Here’s to a great future for a piece of land that has a great past.”
“It sure does.” She repositioned on the canvas and studied him. “I messaged Kate.”
He almost choked on his drink. “Kate Wylie?”
“Blame yourself. Those diaries, dude.”
“Did you read them?” he asked, reaching for a chip to dip.
“Just a few pages from the summer we met. But it moved me enough to want to reach out to a girl I once thought of as another sister.”
“Don’t let You Know Who find out,” he said after he swallowed his bite.
Her eyebrow rose again. “Told you there’d be conditions.”
“Well, the Wylies are blacklisted, for whatever reason.”
“It’s been thirty years, Eli,” she said.
“Yeah, but Maggie cut off ties with some friends who judged Dad too harshly, remember? The Wylies were collateral damage.”
“I guess.”
They sipped quietly for a minute, giving him a chance to think about the fact that she’d reached out to Kate. And what about Tessa?
“Anyway, Kate never responded,” Vivien said, breaking the silence. “It was an old Facebook page, and she probably didn’t see it. Or she’s ignoring it. Either way, I invited her here.”
“You what?” He sat up so fast he nearly toppled the folding chair. “Are you kidding?”
“What? Maggie won’t find out. She made it perfectly clear she wouldn’t ever step foot in Destin. God forbid she tell us why.”
“God forbids a lot of things,” he said. “Lying to your mother is one of them.”
“Wouldn’t you like to see Kate again?” she countered. When he didn’t answer, she leaned in. “Or is it Tessa you’d like to see?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Man, you can slide into obnoxious little sister territory in a hurry when you want to.”
She grinned and leaned back. “I brought the diaries, you know. I may read some more tonight. Refresh my memory and all.”
He just laughed, safe in the knowledge that anything he’d shared with Tessa didn’t make the pages of Vivien’s diary—it had happened moments before they left and they never spoke again. Still, just thinking about Tessa could put him in a bad mood.
Yeah, he should let that go, but some things stay with a man his whole life. And like his mother, he would be just fine never laying eyes on Tessa Wylie again.
He’d never met a woman like her, that much was true. Not before and not since. And that was probably a good thing. His heart would always belong to Melissa and no woman, past, present or future, could ever change that.