Down and Out in Flamingo Beach (18 page)

And Derek was one hard act to follow.

G
ranny J was back to form, bustling around the newly refurbished store like her old self when Joya returned from the bank. She was feeling much better now that sawdust wasn't constantly in the air and paint fumes didn't make her gag.

“You do your own dirty work. Don't hand it off to that child,” Gran said, thrusting at her one of the big yellow shopping bags that Joya had had specially made up to advertise the store. It read: Joya's Quilts—Providing Coverage for Another Hundred Years.

Inside was Nana Belle's commemorative quilt. Joya had asked Portia to deliver it to the Flamingo Beach Resort and Spa where Derek was working, and it was still sitting here.

“That quilt needs to get to Derek before tomorrow. He's going to want to examine it and probably gift-wrap it before his great-grandmother's party,” Joya reminded Gran.

“In that case, you pick up the phone and call him to come by and get it.”

Joya made a wry face. “I can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“I don't think he wants to see me.”

“Enough of this childish behavior,” Granny J said. “The two of you are acting like two lovestruck teenagers.”

“Hardly lovestruck.”

“Then act like adults, face up to your problems and talk things out. You
are
planning on showing up at his great-grandmother's party with me tomorrow?”

Joya huffed out a breath. “I'm still thinking about it. Going out two nights in a row might just wear me out.”

“That's right, you have a date with Dr. Benjamin.”

“We're going to the mayor's cocktail party this evening.”

“What are you wearing?”

Joya shrugged. She hadn't given much thought to any of it and although she wanted to feel excited she just couldn't. The party was a big deal: anyone who was anybody had been invited. It was the kickoff to an entire month of celebration. Since it wasn't every day that a town turned one hundred years old they were breaking out all the stops. There were tall ships in the harbor and every vendor was selling some kind of souvenir.

“Gran,” Joya said changing the subject, “There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Sounds serious,” Granny J said, taking a seat on one of the newly upholstered couches.

“When you were in the hospital and I had to do the banking I found out you took out an equity loan. Why?”

“The store was all paid for. Why not?”

“Why did you need the money, Gran?”

The old lady pursed her lips and studied her knuckles, then she reluctantly said, “The store wasn't making a profit. It cost money to keep it open and pay salaries and I was determined not to go bankrupt. This store has been in our family for years.”

“I understand, hon. Since the store's doing better now you should be able to pay down that loan. What's that smell?” Joya sniffed the air.

“Smells like something's on fire.”

The conversation was tabled as both women raced toward the back room, Joya leading the way.

“Call the fire department,” Joya shouted, spotting the smoke seeping through a closed door. “The supply room is on fire.”

In the distance, sirens could be heard. A glance out the window indicated a small crowd had already gathered on the sidewalk.

Harley Mancini came charging in. “Chet spotted the smoke. We didn't bother calling you figuring what could you do about it? The fire department is on its way. You need to get out.”

He grabbed both women by the elbows and began moving them toward the door. He was dragging them down the walkway when the fire truck pulled up and the firefighters, dragging hoses, leapt out.

All Joya could think about was the mess that would have to be cleaned up in the newly renovated store. The firefighters were bound to track in dirt on their boots and leave smudgy fingerprints on the walls, not to mention the water damage. But it was better than having the place burn down.

In minutes, the fire, which was said to have been caused by a cigarette, was put out. Neither she nor Granny J smoked.

“Arson,” Chet insisted, confronting one of the firefighters. “You need to check that angle out. The fire had to have been set deliberately.”

“We've already notified the police.”

At that moment Greg and Lionel came screeching up in their cop car, siren going.

“Clear the way,” they ordered, racing out and attempting to take control.

What followed for the next couple of hours was a total blur. People were questioned and firefighters and a detective tromped in and out. The cigarette that was the cause of the problem was taken away for evidence. It was one of those menthol brands.

Luckily the damage was minor: just a couple of quilts destroyed but they were favorites. One had a Flying Geese pattern and another had a Card Trick block. But overall, a good airing out and a new coat of paint would fix the damage. Thank goodness for insurance.

By the time everyone had finally cleared out, Joya was exhausted and the cocktail party was only hours away.

“I'm tempted not to go,” she said to Granny J. “I don't want to leave you alone, and, frankly, I'm in no mood to go to a party.”

“I'll be fine and you have a date. You can't possibly cancel at this last minute. Go home and make yourself pretty. A couple of the women from the guild are coming over and we'll be working on more commemorative quilts. Sales have been great, so better to have too many than too little, don't you think?”

“Okay, but only if you're sure.”

Joya's cell phone rang as she was hustling out of the door.

“Good. You're okay. I just heard about the fire,” Derek's voice rushed out at her making her stomach flutter. “I'm on my way over.”

“No need to be. Everything's under control.”

“No one was hurt then? What about damage?”

“Minor actually. The fire was set in the supply room.”

“Set? What do you mean set?” Derek asked.

“It was deliberate. The firefighters found a smoldering cigarette. None of us smoke.”

“I don't like what I'm hearing.”

“Neither do I. But listen, I have to run. Your nana's quilt's done. What do you want me to do with it?”

“Hold onto it,” Derek said, surprising her. “I'll come by your place either later or tomorrow to pay you and pick it up.”

“What about wrapping and that kind of thing?”

“I'll just hang it on the wall so that when Nana is wheeled in it's the first thing she sees.”

“Good idea. Call me before you come. I may not be home.”

Joya retraced her steps to retrieve the bag holding the quilt.

“Changed your mind, I see,” Granny J said dryly.

“I'm a woman, I have that prerogative,” Joya said giving her grandmother a saucy wink. “No doubt you'll be calling me later to see how my date went.”

“Probably not. I already have a pretty good idea how it will go. Now go, child. You're already running late.”

Somehow she managed to make it across town and get herself together in less than an hour. The function, she'd been told, was semi-formal, and so she opted for a simple spaghetti-strapped cocktail dress in burnt orange that had a matching clutch purse. She pulled the whole thing together with a double strand of black pearls, earrings and her signature heels.

Rather than stay in her apartment, she would go downstairs to the lobby to wait for Kyle Benjamin.

His gray Lexus pulled up to the front of the building at the agreed-upon time. The doctor, dressed in a well-cut taupe suit stepped out of his vehicle and into the building. He carried a small wrapped box in one hand. He beamed when he saw Joya seated, waiting.

“You look lovely,” he said, offering her his hand. “That color is great on you.”

Joya thanked him and accepted the box he handed her.

“Should I open it now?” she asked.

“Yes, you can do so in the car. It would go perfectly with your dress.”

When she was seated in his vehicle she undid the colorful ribbon on the box before lifting the lid.

“This is really lovely,” she said, removing the two orchids that had been made into a corsage. Their mocha-and-cream centers complemented the orange of her dress.

Without being asked, Kyle reached across and took the corsage from her. “Wrist, shoulder or hair?” he asked.

She hadn't had a corsage since her senior high prom. “Hair,” she said, feeling daring.

“How about right behind the ear? It worked for Billie Holiday and should work even better on you.”

He was flirting with her, she realized. But she didn't have that immediate comfortable ease that she'd had with Derek, nor did she feel as if she couldn't wait to jump his bones. Kyle Benjamin would be good company and attentive to boot. He'd be the kind of guy a woman would want to be seen with, a pleasant companion but nothing more.

Joya allowed him to tuck the flower behind her ear. But even though his fingers lightly grazed her flesh she felt nothing. He could just as easily have been her brother.

The mayor's mansion was in one of the older country-club communities. Several harried valets were attempting to park cars when they arrived. Uniformed police, borrowed from the neighboring towns, supplemented Flamingo Beach's limited force and provided security. Greg and Lionel, not ones to miss out on an opportunity, had stationed themselves at the mansion's entrance.

“How about I drop you off at the front door?” Kyle proposed. “It may be a while before we see a valet.”

“That would be fine.” Joya did not relish having to walk any distance in heels that were more stylish than practical. “I'll meet you here in a few minutes,” he said taking off.

She walked up to the front entrance along with several women whose escorts had dropped them off. Lionel and Greg were checking invitations and identifications despite knowing most of the guests personally.

“My date has my invitation,” Joya said when it was her turn. “He's parking the car.”

“He's already inside,” Greg said, winking at her. “You look hot, girl.” His eyes traveled the length of her.

“Thanks, but Kyle couldn't possibly be here already. He dropped me off and is parking the car.”

“Better take that size-twelve hoof out of your mouth,” Lionel guffawed, elbowing his partner playfully in the gut. “Joya's not here with Derek.”

The sound of Derek's name made Joya's pulse race and her heartbeat escalate. In her wildest dreams she hadn't expected to see him here. Then she sobered, realizing that he probably wasn't alone. She couldn't bear seeing him with another woman. But maybe he'd come stag, or why would Greg assume she was his date?

More people flowed in, some of whom she knew and some of whom were from out of town. Joya exchanged greetings and the necessary small talk with a few until she spotted Kyle at the entrance. He scanned the area looking for her while Greg and Lionel examined his invitation.

Joya waved and he came over.

“Did you find some place to park?” she asked.

“Yes, eventually. It's way out in the boonies, but at least I'm assured of not having my vehicle nicked. After that long walk I do need a drink.” When Joya gave him a sideways look he added, “I'm not on call for the next twenty-four hours. We can call the local taxi service if I get too inebriated. Now shall we go in and see who there is to meet?”

Taking her by the elbow, Kyle gently edged her inside the library where the function was being held. It was a cavernous space with sculptures strategically positioned on pedestals. Bookshelves filled with books rimmed the room and couches provided comfortable seating. Waiters and waitresses were doing their best to move back and forth carrying trays of drinks and hors d'oeuvres above their heads. The noise level was deafening. The poor string quartet playing off in a corner could barely be heard.

A number of fragrances filled the air. Joya inhaled the exotic spices and garlicky scents wafting over from the mini-burritos and shrimp on the trays. She inhaled the scent of expensive perfumes and colognes from the guests. A festive citrus-type drink was being served in tall chilled glasses adorned with little paper umbrellas. The tangy smell tickled her nostrils and made her long for one.

“My guess is the back patio's less crowded,” Kyle said close to her ear as he steered her toward a door leading out to an Olympic-size pool.

He was right. It was far less congested outside. The large flagstone patio overlooking the golf course had a decent amount of people milling around the two bars but nowhere near the crowd inside. Red-white-and-blue flags adorned a gazebo that served as a stage. And a saxophonist roamed playing mood music, the perfect background sound for a group bent on circulating and networking.