No Sunshine When She's Gone (10 page)

Jill quickly folded the brochure and stuck it in her back pocket. There was no way they could live here, even if Aidan gave them a good deal. The place was too rich for their blood. Disappointment was fast approaching.

Carrie eased down on the Adirondack chair. Her brow creased when she asked, “What do you think?” Her voice was hesitant, as if she were afraid of Jill’s answer.

Jill stared toward the beach. The sun glanced off the Gulf in ripples of gold. Motorboats and Sea-Doos rode the waves. She squinted north, wishing she’d brought her sunglasses. Her heart slowed when she located Land’s End. She hadn’t realized it would be visible from Beach Walk. There sat the Horizon, awaiting someone to move in. It just wouldn’t be her.

“The penthouse is gorgeous,” Jill responded, putting a smile on Carrie’s face. “However we need to be realistic. The rent may be more than we can afford. A furnished apartment with this view will be costly.” Which she already knew to be true. She just hadn’t broken the news to her friend.

Carrie shut down, sighing. “I was afraid that might be the case.”

“Rent may be less expensive than you think.” Aidan now joined them on the terrace. He’d apparently caught the end of their conversation. He turned his back on the sun and leaned his hip against the railing. His gaze rested on Jill when he said, “My sister was generous in offering her houseboat rent-free. She wanted someone to live there and make it a home again.”

Jill would’ve embraced the Horizon as her residence had Carrie not fallen sick. Her friend came first. Always.

Aidan shifted his gaze to Carrie. “How set are you on moving in together?” he asked.

“We’ve lived separately for years,” Carrie told him. “The Rogues Organization provided us with a relocation allowance to get settled. We’d planned to share a place only so we could save money. We were looking for a year’s lease.”

“My suggestion is that you split up,” he went on to say. “It’s workable, if you can live with it.”

“Live with what?” asked Jill.

“I just got off the phone with my apartment manager. He has yet to rent the penthouse, and we both hate to see it sit empty.”

Who could afford this place? Jill almost said, but held back. She let Aidan finish.

He crossed his arms over his chest, tucked his thumbs beneath his armpits. “I can match Shaye’s offer,” he slowly said. “Carrie can live here at no cost, if Jill will reconsider staying at the houseboat.”

Free
was not a word the women heard often, if ever. Aidan’s words took a moment to sink in. Even then, Jill and Carrie were so overwhelmed they couldn’t speak. The silence on the terrace swelled with emotion. Tears shone in Carrie’s eyes, and her lower lip trembled. Jill’s throat tightened; she could barely swallow. Aidan’s proposition gave them the best of both worlds.

Where was the catch? Jill wondered. Was this too good to be true? “Why are you being so nice?” she asked him.

“I’m a nice guy,” he said easily.

Carrie was always practical. “You’ll be losing money on the apartment,” she said, giving Aidan a chance to change his mind.

He shrugged. “You were considerate of Rylan when he arrived in Richmond,” he reminded Carrie. “Let me reciprocate with a little Barefoot William hospitality.”

“It’s not a fair trade, Aidan,” Carrie softly insisted.

“Kindness doesn’t have a price.”

Jill understood. Her family meant everything to her. Her mother’s love had been strong and supportive. Her older brother had been her lifeline. Carrie was her sister, if not by blood, by friendship.

“My offer’s on the table,” Aidan said. “No strings attached.”

Carrie looked at Jill, waiting for her approval. She wouldn’t accept unless Jill was in complete agreement. The very thought of living on the houseboat made Jill’s skin tingle. The urge to jump up and down was great. She contained herself.

“You’re a generous man, Aidan Cates,” Jill said. The penthouse apartment would give Carrie a luxury she’d never experienced. She’d survived the hardships of growing up, and deserved to know the softer side of life. “Carrie would love to stay here and I’d be happy on the houseboat.”

Aidan took two keys from his pocket. He tossed one to Carrie. She was shaking from her excitement and used both hands to catch it. Still, it fell in her lap. She cradled the key on her palm, eyeing it as a prized possession.

Jill grabbed the second key out of the air with one hand when he threw it to her. She clutched it so tightly she was certain she bore the imprint.

“Welcome home, ladies,” Aidan said. “Electricity is on at both places. You can settle in anytime. I’m busy this afternoon, but I can send over one of my crew if you need help moving.”

“We can manage,” said Carrie. “I have three boxes and a suitcase, and Jill travels light.”

So light, in fact, she could pack and leave at a moment’s notice. Jill had yet to put down roots. A year on the houseboat would be the longest she’d stayed in one place. She had a good feeling about the Horizon. It was meant to be. Aidan was responsible for her good fortune. She’d find a way to thank him. Words didn’t seem enough.

He glanced at his watch now, and moved them along. “It’s eleven-thirty. I’ll take you back to the Barefoot Inn, and be on my way.”

Aidan was gone within two minutes of dropping them off. Jill stood on the sidewalk and watched him drive away. She liked the man. He was interested in her, too, if she read him correctly. His continued glimpses in the rearview mirror were engaging. They’d played eye tag. He’d winked, and she’d winked back. He made her feel warm inside.

The friends waited until they were upstairs in Carrie’s bedroom before pumping their arms and hugging each other. “The penthouse,” Carrie was breathless. “It’s like a palace. I feel like a princess.” She blushed. “Does that sound silly?”

“Not silly, unless you start wearing a tiara,” Jill teased her.

Carrie settled on her bed, sitting cross-legged. “Could the day get any better?” she asked, grinning. “What should we do first?”

“Let’s pack, find Sharon Cates and pay our bill, then have lunch,” Jill suggested. “We’ll need to take inventory of our perspective places, and see what we should purchase. I’m assuming we’ll need towels, bedding, and the like.”

“I want silk sheets for my king-size bed,” said Carrie.

“You won’t find them at Goodwill or a thrift shop.” Places they sometimes shopped at for good deals.

Carrie grew thoughtful. She grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest. “I’m willing to spend a little money to maintain my dream,” she confessed. “You’ve got a nautical theme at the houseboat. Now would be a good time to get
Little Mermaid
sheets and a matching comforter.”

A thought she might entertain if she wasn’t thirty-three. “I’m too old for Ariel,” Jill said.

“Age doesn’t matter,” Carrie said persuasively. “You might as well buy something you’ve always wanted.”

That was true. Who would see her Disney sheets anyway? She wasn’t dating anyone. She had the hots for Aidan Cates, but had no intention of acting on her attraction. Her inner child smiled. It might be fun to feel ten again. Why not?

“I’m in,” Jill said. She then crossed to her adjoining room. “It will take me five minutes to pack.”

“I need thirty,” Carrie called after her. “I took the time to hang up my clothes and put things in the dresser drawers.”

Forty-five minutes passed by the time they packed and hauled their suitcases and boxes downstairs. Sharon Cates was sad to see them go, but still pleased they’d found housing. Once their vehicles were loaded, they drove to Molly Malone’s. The Barefoot William diner was a local favorite with a reputation for home cooking and large portions. They enjoyed BLTs on thick sourdough toast and vanilla milkshakes.

Full and satisfied, they stepped outside and into the sunshine. They crossed Center Street and strolled south toward Saunders Shores. Here was a world unto itself, Jill thought. The Shores differed greatly from the Barefoot boardwalk. The walkway shifted from cracked cement to cocoa-brown brick. Here, there were no in-line skaters, unicyclists, street singers, portrait painters, or vendors hawking their wares. There were no rickshaw pedicabs. No one wore swimsuits or ran around without shoes.

Those shopping the main city blocks were dignified and well dressed. The women were coifed and tailored. The men wore suits. Clientele carried designer boxes and bags. Money scented the air.

“I feel underdressed,” said Carrie. “I’m not sure I belong on this side of the street.”

Jill looked down at her Rogues tee. “I love baseball more than I like browsing.”

Carrie slowed her steps. “Everything’s so polished and perfect. Even the sidewalk is pristine.” She pointed toward the shoreline. “There’s not a grain of sand out of place.”

Jill couldn’t help but smile. “That’s because cabana boys are raking the beach. No one gets sand in his crack.”

“Such is the life of the rich,” Carrie said on a sigh. “We don’t have a lot of money to spend. I doubt these shops have sales.”

Carrie was right. There wasn’t even a small markdown. The friends strolled into several stores, only to hurry out. The prices made them blink. Carrie shook her head when they left In Step with the Shores. “Who pays four thousand dollars for a pair of shoes?” she asked, completely at a loss.

A woman passed them wearing the same black leather heels with delicate gold chain ankle straps that Carrie had admired in the glass display case. “She does,” said Jill, eyeing the lady’s white satin blouse, pencil-thin skirt, and the nickel-size diamond on her wedding finger. She lowered her voice. “She’s a million dollars walking.”

They next entered Dreams, a fancy boutique catering to a luxurious night’s sleep. “This isn’t Bed in a Bag,” Carrie whispered, referring to a wholesale outlet in Richmond that they frequented.

A sales associate approached. “Ladies?” Her hair and black suit were as severe as her tone. She took her time deciding if they were worthy of the store.

Her mental debate had Carrie turning toward the door. Jill grasped her arm and stopped her from leaving. “Your collection of sheets,” she said to the woman. “Silk for a king-size bed and a
Little Mermaid
set for a double.”

“Silk we have,” the woman said, her tone cool, “but we don’t handle Disney.” She sighed, as if it pained her to wait on them. “This way.” She turned and walked down a center aisle toward the back of the store. Her high heels clicked on the ebony tiles, an impatient sound.

Jill was stubborn enough to follow her. Carrie was more hesitant. “Don’t let her get to you,” Jill said, dragging her friend along with her. Life had beaten Carrie down on more than one occasion. Jill refused to let it happen over silk sheets.

All along the aisle, beautifully made beds beckoned a person to slide between the sheets and sleep tight. Jill gazed appreciatively at a brass bed with lavender sheets and a lavender-and-blue paisley comforter. Jeweled throw pillows banked the headboard. A bed for slow, sensuous sex, she thought. Her mind strayed to Aidan Cates. The man distracted her, and she walked into a display of pillowcase covers. Fortunately for her, Carrie managed to save the pile from toppling.

The sales associate frowned over Jill’s clumsiness. “Do be careful,” she criticized. She crossed to a side aisle and pointed to a bed with an ornate Victorian headboard. The pale blue sheets on the bed glistened in sensual slumber. A silver tray with two champagne flutes and a bottle of Dom Perignon sat on a nightstand. Overhead, a crystal chandelier scattered prisms on the wall. Here was a bed inviting romance.

“Pratesi,” the woman said, her voice glorifying the designer. “The sheets are made of Italian and Chinese silk and are hand-embroidered.”

Carrie tentatively touched one corner of the sheet.

The sales associate cleared her throat. Apparently this was a look-but-don’t-touch display.

“How much are they?” asked Carrie.

“You can’t afford them if you have to ask,” was the woman’s reply.

“But she is asking.” Jill wanted an answer.

The associate’s lips pinched. “Fifteen hundred dollars for the set.”

Carrie’s face drained of all color.

“Does the set include pillowcases?”

“Two,” the woman told Jill.

Jill kept a straight face. “Does the bedding come with a lifetime guarantee?” Heaven forbid the sheet tore. “Do they have to be dry cleaned?” She assumed so.

“Pratesi is dream decadence,” the woman enunciated slowly. “The sheets are heirloom quality European luxury.”

Jill nodded, taking it all in. Her only familiarity with brand names came in discount cotton. “I’d like to see your Midas Collection with the solid gold threads before we make a decision,” she said.

Carrie covered her mouth, but not before Jill saw a flash of her braces. A grin was good. Jill never wanted her friend to feel less a person, just because they couldn’t afford designer sheets. Who slept on these sheets anyway?

She was about to find out. “Two sets, Pratesi black,” came from behind her.

Jill inwardly cringed. The man’s voice was recognizable. She did a slow turn and found Mike Burke, Aidan’s construction superintendent, standing behind them now. He wore a gray T-shirt designed with a hammer and scripted with
I’d Hit That
in white lettering. His jeans had more holes than the pair he’d worn the previous night. His scruffy appearance was in sharp contrast to the pricey silk sheets.

Jill waited for the sales associate to show him the door. The woman did not. Instead she welcomed him with a slow smile. “Always the color black, Mr. Burke?” she asked. “Can’t I interest you in something lighter?”

“I like midnight in my bed,” he said. He made easy conversation with the woman, ignoring Jill and Carrie. “How’s it going, Sabrina?”

“I had several nice sales earlier this morning, but it’s quiet now,” she said. “These ladies are browsing, so I have a minute to put your sets together. I’ll be in the back room if you need me.” She then disappeared behind a brocade tapestry majestically draped on a long pole, used to disguise the storeroom door from the front floor displays.