Beach Colors (12 page)

“Don’t I know it,” Margaux mumbled, mostly to herself.

Linda narrowed her eyes at Margaux. “Doesn’t mean they couldn’t if they had product.”

“Sorry, I don’t know of anybody. I just got back myself.”

“How long you staying?”

“I’m just doing some R and R.”

“Yeah,” said Linda, and walked her out to the porch.

“Well, thanks again.” Margaux started down the steps just as the chief of police came around the corner.

He looked up as if he’d heard her, their eyes met, and for what seemed like an eon, neither of them moved. She was vaguely aware that Linda was quietly warbling the theme from
Beauty and the Beast
.

The chief moved first. He began walking toward her.

“Gotta run,” Margaux said, and sprinted across the street to her car.

N
ick stared after the retreating figure. He’d almost walked straight into her before he recognized her because that wild lush hair was now sleek and shiny.

A classy cut, he guessed, but it made her look more like the unapproachable New York fashionista that she was. Not that he should care. He had no intention of approaching her at all.

And it was obvious by her reaction that she had no intention of letting him approach her, even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t and wouldn’t. Unless she broke the law.

Before he could slip away, he was flagged down by his landlady. She was dressed like a suburban house frau in some kind of god-awful printed coat and green furry slippers. But she was a crass New Yorker who kept him in stitches, not an easy feat these days.

“Yo, my man, whatcha got to smile about?” Linda gave him her trademark toothy grin.

“Your shoes.”

“Huh.”

“Was that Margaux Sullivan who just left?” Stupid question. He knew it was.

“Well, that answers
my
question. And my answer gives you the answer to your question.”

Nick laughed. “Has it ever occurred to you that a simple yes or no might do the trick?”

“Nope. Where’s the fun in that? Did you come to hit me up for a cup of coffee?”

“If you’re offering.”

“Come on. I’ll see if I can rustle up a slice of twenty-year-old fruit cake to go with it.”

Nick followed her inside. The smell of baking had awakened him that morning. His apartment was right over Linda’s kitchen, and whenever she cooked, Nick got the aromas. Baking won out over stuffed cabbage any day.

“So what are you doing home in the middle of the day?” She took a bag of coffee out of the freezer.

“Having lunch and making some phone calls.”

Linda put a finger to her chin. “Let’s see. You always have lunch at Dottie’s, so you must be making calls that you don’t want anyone else to hear.” She ran water into the coffee carafe and began filling the coffeemaker.

She was not only funny, she was damn astute.

“Connor ran away again last night. I have to make an appointment with the kiddie shrink.”

“The kid needs a mother.”

“Uncle is the best I can do.”

“How long have you had a thing for Margaux Sullivan?”

Her question caught him totally off guard.

“I don’t.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t even know the woman.”

“Then how come you were standing on the sidewalk looking like you were about to go down on one knee?”

“You’re nuts. I was just surprised at her new hairdo. Nice, by the way.”

“Thank you, I must say I outdid myself. So?”

“So what?”

“You know, being obtuse does not make a man sexy.”

“Oh hell, Linda, I gave her a speeding ticket on her way into town. She nearly ran over Connor last night and brought him home. I thanked her; I would have thanked her again, but she cut out. She doesn’t like me much. And I have no feelings about her whatsoever. So don’t even start with me.”

Linda guffawed. An over-the-top reaction that let him know she wasn’t buying any of it.

“I was just surprised to see her at the Cut—at Le Coif.”

For once Linda didn’t have a sassy comment. Just turned around with the empty coffeepot in her hand and studied him.

“Uh, the coffee?”

“Yeah, right.” She replaced the carafe and turned on the coffeemaker, then leaned against the counter facing him. “Didn’t you know her when her family
summuhed
here.”

“No. Summer people didn’t mix with us townies.”

“Poor you. I’d get out my violin but I had to use it for firewood.”

Nick tried not to smile, he wanted to be pissed off at her for asking too many questions. Questions he really didn’t know the answers to. But he couldn’t.

“One day that mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble.”

“Oh, promises, promises.”

The coffeemaker spit out its last puff of steam; Linda filled a mug and handed it to him. “Now where did I put that fruit cake?” She placed a plate of freshly baked cookies in front of him.

Nick took one and bit into it.

“When was the last time you had sex?”

Nick choked on the cookie, coughed out cookie crumbs. Linda whacked him on the back.

“Jesus, Linda. What the hell kind of question is that?” He hoped to hell she wasn’t going to proposition him. When he first moved in, they kind of danced around the possibility until she figured out he wasn’t interested. As it turned out, she wasn’t offended or really disappointed. Linda had her pick of men in the town. She hadn’t really been interested in Nick. It was more of a habit with her.

“Every night I listen for sounds of
amore
coming from your apartment and I get zip, nada. The only action I hear is you turning the page of some old history book.” She sighed heavily. “Why Nick, are you blushing?

“I was just kidding. I don’t hear a thing. Ever. The history book was just a good guess. But what I haven’t heard, or seen, is some beauty sneaking down the stairs in the middle of the night. And you’re home every night, ergo . . .”

“Linda, I don’t have time to even meet women. Much less date them. And if I ever do start, I won’t bring them here, knowing you’ve got a glass pressed to the ceiling.”

“Aw, you’re no fun. If I promise not to listen or spy, will you get a girlfriend?”

“On my next day off.” Nick stood up, snagged another cookie, and headed for the door.

“Aren’t you off this Friday?” Linda called after him.

Seven

M
argaux watched from the kitchen window as a red Dodge came to a stop behind the house. She quickly dried her hands and ran outside to meet her friends. Grace hopped out of the car and waved as Brianna emerged more slowly from the passenger side. Her long legs unfolded to the ground and she seemed to stretch in slow motion, tall and lean with golden hair piled nonchalantly on the top of her head. As poised and beautiful as ever.

And then she grinned. “Mags!”

Brianna held out her arms and Margaux fell into her hug, nearly knocking her over. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Brianna laughed, low and throaty. “I’ve been here. I can’t believe
you’re
here. Group hug.” She opened one arm to make room for Grace. They laughed and exclaimed and cried until finally Bri pulled away.

“We all look fabulous, haven’t aged a bit, and are just ecstatic to be together again. But enough already. The ice is melting.”

She reached over them for a bag of ice which she handed to Margaux. Reached in again and came out with a large thermos. “Watermelon martinis.” She walked off toward the kitchen door.

“Is she limping?” Margaux whispered to Grace.

Grace nodded. “A long story, she’ll tell you after a martini or two.”

Grace hoisted a box of groceries out of the trunk. “Steaks, potatoes, salad, chips, dip, cheese, crackers, olives—and cupcakes. Close the trunk, will you?”

They bustled about the kitchen, putting away food, getting down glasses, grinning and shaking their heads each time they passed. And by the time everything was put away, they were the Selkies again.

“Lunch or beach?” asked Margaux.

“Beach,” Bri said.

Grace rolled her eyes.

“Oh come on, both of you could use a little vitamin D and I have a great sunscreen.”

They went off to separate bedrooms to change into their suits. As soon as Margaux was ready, she went downstairs to get the pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade and round up a stack of beach towels.

Grace was already on the porch, sitting on the railing, wearing a white tailored shirt that came to mid-thigh.

“Is there a suit under there?” asked Margaux as she handed her the pitcher of lemonade.

“Yes. Is there one under there?” She nodded to Margaux’s knee-length bathrobe.

“Afraid so.”

“Hey, where are you?” Bri called from the house.

“Out here,” Margaux called back.

“Don’t stare,” Grace said quickly before the screen door opened and Bri struck a pose in the doorway. She was wearing an oversized T-shirt with a voluptuous torso in a string bikini printed on the front.

“Ta-da.”

“Very chic.” Margaux adjusted the towels, picked up the beach umbrella, and marched off to stake a place in the sand.

It took several minutes to spread out towels and unload beach bags. None of them seemed too eager to be the first to take off her beach cover-up.

“Okay,” said Bri. “On the count of three, we strip.” She grinned satanically. “In order of age.”

“Okay,” Grace said, obviously relieved.

“Youngest first.”

“Not fair.”

“Tough.” Bri pointed to Grace with a finger whose manicure was showing signs of wear, then to Margaux, then to herself. “
Un, deux, trois.
Ready?”

“I have nothing to hide . . . much.” Grace slowly unbuttoned her shirt and slipped it off. Beneath it was a navy blue one-piece with low-cut legs and a square neckline.

“I have a sedentary lifestyle,” she said defensively.

“You look great,” Margaux said.

“You look just like a lawyer in a swimsuit,” Bri said, and turned to Margaux.

“Oh, all right.” Margaux untied the sash and let the robe fall to the sand.

Grace sputtered. “Strawberries?”

Brianna groaned. “And ruffles. Wait a minute. I remember that suit. You were twelve or something.”

Margaux pulled a face. “I found it in the dresser. I guess I’ll have to buy a new suit next time I’m in town.”

She and Grace both turned toward Bri.

“Are you ready?”

Margaux thought she heard a subtle tremor in her friend’s voice.

Bri pulled the T-shirt over her head. Her suit was not even a bikini, it was almost nothing. Just three tiny patches of gold with three tiny strings holding them together.

“Jesus Christ Almighty,” said Grace. “Do you want us to get arrested for indecent exposure?”

Brianna grimaced. “Too much?”

“Too little,” said Grace.

“You want to trade?” Bri reached for the minuscule string around her neck.

“No! Can you imagine if any of my clients saw me wearing that?”

“You’d have to hand out those little numbers like they have at the deli.”

“I don’t think so.”

Brianna turned to Margaux, one eyebrow lifted. “Well, what do you think?”

“I—” The suit was amazing, but Margaux hardly noticed it. She was staring at the long ugly scar that stretched from Brianna’s thigh to ankle.

“Where on earth did you get it?”

“The suit or the scar?”

Margaux swallowed. “Both.”

“The Lido for the suit. The store on Canal Street, not France.” Bri lowered herself to her towel and began to slather on sunscreen. “The scar I got in France.

“So just to get it out and over with, this is how it went. I was living the good life, yukking it up with the rich and famous, parties, drugs, alcohol, men. You know the drill. The particular man I happened to be with at the moment was drunk and driving his Aston Martin too fast. He took an
S
turn and skidded out of control. He walked away from the crash. I wrecked my body and ended my career.

“Fortunately his family was willing to pay to keep me from suing and the newspapers from having a field day. I took the money and came home . . . eventually.”

“Eventually?”

“After a stint in rehab and another in the loony bin. Old news.”

“Not to me.”

“If it’s any consolation, she didn’t tell me either.” Grace poured lemonade into a plastic tumbler and handed it to Brianna. “And it wasn’t a loony bin.”

Bri took the glass. “Next best thing.”

“Why didn’t you let us know?” asked Margaux.

“I was too ashamed.” Bri gave them a twisted smile. Tears sparkled in her eyes, making her look even more beautiful.

“To tell your friends? We could have been there for you.” Except Margaux had been too busy building her career to have been able to help Bri. As it turned out, she hadn’t even been able to take care of herself. “I’ve been a terrible friend.”

“No,” Bri said. “Just busy getting ahead—like the rest of the world.”

“And here we are right back where we started.”

Grace frowned at Margaux. “You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“It turned out okay for me,” Bri said. “I bought a house right outside of town, I went to college and got a degree in business, and I’m in the process of adopting two little girls from China.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. No man in your life?”

“Nope.” She took a sip of lemonade. “This lemonade is delicious. Just like Jude used to make.”

“I learned it from the best,” Margaux said. “So what about you, Grace? Any great loves? Beside the law?”

“Just the law. Domestic disputes, traffic tickets, and the occasional foreclosure.”

“Oh, don’t be so modest,” Bri said. “Last year some developer tried to buy up the boardwalk. Okay, so the area has seen better days, but McMansions for rich people? It’s our only public beach. Anyway, our little friend here hustled her butt up to the state assembly and had them put a stay on the sale.”

“Good for you. So where does it stand now?”

“Limbo,” Grace said. “Which is as good a place as any when it comes to jurisprudence.”

“In the meantime, she had the town council apply for historic designation. Seems the carousel is over a hundred years old.”