Promise Cove (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 1) (46 page)

“
Y
eah.
W
or
k
.
”
H
e
did
n
’t
g
ive
her
an
openi
n
g
t
o
pu
r
sue that
line
of
qu
e
stioni
n
g
and
neatly
cha
n
ged
the
subje
c
t.
“
W
ha
t
a
b
ou
t
y
ou
r
fam
i
ly?”

“
I
’
m
from
S
an
F
ran
cis
c
o
.
I
grew
up
ther
e
.
M
om
ran
a
ca
t
e
r
i
n
g
b
u
s
i
n
e
s
s.
D
a
d
t
a
ugh
t
bi
o
-
chem
i
st
r
y
a
t
S
a
n
F
r
an
c
is
co
S
t
a
t
e
until
he
retired
l
ast
y
ea
r
.
”

N
oti
c
i
n
g
the
w
i
st
f
ul
look
on
her
face,
he
realized
she
w
as home
s
ic
k
.
“
Y
ou
mi
s
s
it
.
”

“
I
d
o
.
I
met
Sc
o
t
t
ther
e
.
”

A
t
the
mention
of
Sco
t
t
,
the
co
n
ve
r
sation
g
r
ound
t
o
an
a
b
r
upt
hal
t
.
N
ic
k
cleare
d
h
i
s
throa
t
,
g
o
t
u
p
t
o
clea
n
u
p
the
d
i
sh
e
s.
S
he
w
at
ched
the
ma
n
’
s
e
n
ga
g
i
n
g
mood
mo
r
ph
in
t
o cool
de
t
achmen
t
.
I
t
w
as
imp
o
ss
ible
t
o
m
is
s
the
t
en
s
ion
tighteni
n
g
h
i
s
face
ag
ain.
F
eeli
n
g
s
omewhat
respon
s
ible,
J
or
d
an t
r
ied
her
b
e
st
t
o
get
back
on
bet
t
er
ground.
“
Y
ou
cooked,
it
’
s only
fair
that
I
clean
u
p
.
T
h
at
’
s
the
w
a
y
it
wor
k
s
.
”

“
I made
the
mess,
I
do
n
’t
mind
.
”

A
s
s
o
o
n
a
s
H
u
t
t
o
n
be
g
a
n
to
t
o
s
s
p
iec
e
s
o
f
he
r
pancak
e
s
o
n
th
e
f
l
oo
r
,
s
i
g
nali
n
g
sh
e
’
d
ha
d
enough
,
J
or
d
a
n
w
i
ped
do
w
n
H
u
t
t
o
n
’
s
fac
e
befor
e
s
e
t
ti
n
g
he
r
do
w
n
o
n
th
e
f
l
oor
to
p
l
a
y
.
R
es
o
lve
d
to
mak
e
N
ic
k
fee
l
bet
t
e
r
,
wan
ti
n
g
ve
r
y
muc
h
to
p
ic
k
u
p
th
e
co
n
ve
r
sa
t
ion
,
J
or
d
a
n
t
r
ie
d
to
make amen
d
s
.
“
W
e
wer
e
j
u
s
t
get
ti
n
g
to
b
e
f
r
ien
d
s
,
get
ti
n
g
to
k
no
w
eac
h
o
the
r
a
littl
e
b
i
t
.
”

“T
here
i
s
n
’t
much
t
o
k
no
w
.
”

“
Y
ou
get
up
earl
y
,
I
k
now
that.
I
f
y
ou
’
re
h
a
v
i
n
g
trouble sleepi
n
g
,
it
might
be that
old
bed.
W
e could
cha
n
ge
out
…
”

A
s
h
e
loade
d
th
e
d
i
s
h
w
a
she
r
,
ob
v
io
u
sl
y
anno
y
e
d
at
th
e
co
n
ve
r
sa
t
ion
,
h
e
t
o
l
d
he
r
bluntl
y
,
“
T
r
u
s
t
me
,
i
t
i
s
n
’
t
th
e
bed
.
”

P
atric
k
Murp
h
y
ha
d
found
P
elican
P
o
in
t
e
qui
t
e
by
accident
s
ome
t
wen
t
y
y
ea
r
s
earlier
when
h
e
’
d
got
t
en
l
o
st
on
a sal
e
s
call
du
r
i
n
g
one
of
h
i
s
t
r
i
p
s
down
from
the
B
a
y
.
F
rom that
point
h
e
’
d
w
andered
down
t
o
the
little
coas
t
al
t
own on
numerous
f
i
shi
n
g
t
r
i
p
s
when
e
ver
time
permit
t
ed.
B
ut
i
t
ha
d
ta
ke
n
th
e
brea
k
u
p
o
f
h
i
s
ma
r
r
ia
g
e
an
d
th
e
l
o
ss
o
f
h
i
s job
before
h
e
’
d
fi
na
l
l
y
g
o
t
t
e
n
t
ire
d
o
f
th
e
b
i
g
c
i
t
y
an
d
packed
up
loc
k
,
s
t
oc
k
,
and
ba
r
rel,
and
headed
t
o
P
elican
P
o
in
t
e
for good.
A
t
the
time,
a
little
more
than
fif
t
een
hundred
people called
the
t
own
hom
e
.
A
s
s
oon
as
h
e
’
d
s
ettled
in
h
e
’
d
s
et
h
i
s
s
ights
on
the
an
c
ient
mercantile,
a
r
undown
shell
of
a
buildi
n
g
left
ove
r
f
ro
m
th
e
‘40
s
tha
t
ha
d
gon
e
t
o
s
eed
.
H
e
de
c
ided
a
t
own
this
s
i
ze
needed
its
own
s
t
ore,
one
where
the
re
s
i
den
ts
coul
d
sho
p
w
ithou
t
h
a
v
i
n
g
t
o
mak
e
th
e
t
r
i
p
in
t
o
S
an
t
a
C
r
uz
e
ve
r
y
time
they
needed
as
p
i
r
in
or
t
o
ilet
pape
r
.
H
e
’
d opened
a
reno
v
a
t
ed
M
u
r
p
h
y
’
s
M
arket
that
fi
r
st
y
ea
r
,
and
ran for
m
a
y
or
the
nex
t
.