Just South of Sunrise

by Grace Palmer

  Liza thought the book club would help her forget about her run-in with Benjamin Boyd, but clearly, the book everyone had been reading was just a fictionalized version of her life. From what Liza could tell from Gwen’s brief run-through of the plot, the hero and heroine met when they were in their mid-twenties, but after almost a year together, fate ripped them apart only to reunite them decades later.

  “Second-chance romance,” Gwen said, tucking a strand of curly gray hair behind her ear. “It’s my favorite romance trope. Seeing the characters come together again and then dance around each other, both trying to delay the inevitable—it’s so romantic.”

  Liza wasn’t convinced.

  Georgia waved her arm to stop the chatter. “Let’s not ruin the whole book for Liza. She hasn’t read it yet.”

  “It ends in happily ever after,” Alma said, her Texas drawl thicker than it had been when Liza had first arrived. It seemed wine brought out her accent. “Like every romance novel in existence. Surprise!”

  Georgia elbowed Alma in the side, but the trio of women who had all arrived together—Barb, Pam, and Cheri—started talking at the same time, each of them trying to explain that romance novels were much more than their happily-ever-afters. They’re about the journey.

  Liza had only known most of these women for half an hour—save for Georgia and Stella, whom she’d known for closer to forty-five minutes including their initial meetings—but she could tell she liked them all already. She liked the dynamic they had as a group. Everyone seemed to bring their own energy and personality, but they complemented one another well.

  Alma, by all accounts, was the tough cynic. She was loud, opinionated, and did not give in easily to other’s persuasion.

  Gwen was Alma’s opposite. Soft-spoken, sensitive, and starry-eyed.

  Georgia fell somewhere in the middle, and Liza could relate to that. She seemed to want to view the world through rose-colored glasses, but much like Liza, life and romance had not been the kindest to Georgia. Going through a divorce can damage your belief in happily-ever-afters.

  “Are we going to talk about the book or should I start uncovering the snacks?” Stella asked, trying to break through the din of voices.

  Stella made the plans. She was organized and structured, and she liked to be in control. Liza could relate to that, too.

  “I’ve already eaten a bowl and a half of Liza’s homemade Chex mix,” Pam said, laughing and burying her face behind her hand so all Liza could see was the gray streak at the front of her hair. “I’m sorry, but it’s so good.”

  Cheri and Barb laughed and held up their own bowls.

  “You sneaks!” Stella yelled, trying to hide her laugh. She shook her head and waved everyone on. “Fine. Eat your snacks, you barbarians.”

  The Lion King had been Angela’s favorite movie as a kid, and Cheri, Barb, and Pam reminded Liza of the hyenas. Not that they were dumb, of course, but they seemed to exist purely to have fun, egging one another on. They laughed at each other’s jokes, and if one of them got into trouble, Liza felt confident all three of them would be there to help.

  Everyone had a place within the group, a role that they held and tended. Liza wondered what hers would be.

  It didn’t matter, of course, because she wouldn’t be in Willow Beach long, but still, she wondered.

  “These cookies are devastatingly good, Liza.” Stella stacked two on her plate and wrapped one in a napkin. For later, Liza assumed.

  “I call them leftover cookies.”

  “Left over from what? Who would possibly leave any of these behind?” Alma asked.

  “They don’t. That’s why I call them that,” Liza laughed. “There are never any left over. And I make them with a lot of leftover baking ingredients—chocolate chips, caramel chips, toffee. They change a little bit each time I make them, but they’re always a hit.”

  The women were being nice to Liza about her snacks—probably because it was her first time at the book club and because, not to be braggy, Liza was a good cook—but Liza liked everything everyone else had brought, too.

  Alma had made what she called “cowboy caviar,” which was a mix between seven-layer dip and a corn salsa, and she had also brought homemade tortilla chips. Georgia presented leftover blueberry lemon muffins from the inn’s breakfast that morning, but they were so fluffy and flavorful that Liza was certain they would be her favorite muffins ever when fresh. And Stella brought a bag of cannolis from Romano’s.

  “I never would have refused dessert last night at Romano’s if I’d known this is what I was missing out on,” Liza said. The golden brown shell was crisp, and the creamy filling inside tasted sweet and bright and balanced in a way many decadent desserts aren’t. Whoever made the cannolis at Romano’s knew what they were doing.

  Stella held up a cannoli and examined it with obvious admiration. “Sometimes I make Sam take me there just for cannolis. We skip real food and go straight for these and espresso. They are addicting.”

  After a while, the book was set aside in favor of food and conversation, and Liza liked how easily she fit in here. She knew everyone was treating her especially nicely since they’d just met, but she could also tell none of these women were fake. Their niceness wasn’t forced. They were genuinely good people.

  “So, Liza,” Cheri said, dabbing her lips with a napkin before she continued. “Word on the street is you are catering a big, fancy wedding here soon. Someone thought you might have been brought here from Boston exclusively to cater the wedding, in fact?”

  “That ‘someone’ she is referring to is herself,” Pam fake whispered, nudging Cheri in the side.

  Cheri blushed slightly and shrugged, not denying the claim.

  “No, not at all,” Liza said. “Well, it’s true I’m catering a wedding, but it isn’t a fancy affair, just a big one. The bride said the groom is the youngest of ten kids, so his family is large. And I’m here to house-sit Mrs. Albertson’s beach house while she is out of the country. It just so happens that my business partner found some work to keep me busy, too.”

  “Ten kids?” Georgia blanched. “I’d die. Three is more than enough for me.”

  “Speaking of your kids…” Alma lifted her chin and pointed her wineglass towards the stairs as two young women mounted them.

  One of them had dark, curly hair and an angular face, and the other was a younger version of Georgia. She had the same coppery hair and bright smile. It was uncanny.

  “Are we interrupting?” the younger Georgia asked.

  “Never!” Georgia said, standing up and throwing her arms wide. “We were just talking about you two.”

  The woman who looked identical to Georgia was Melanie, Willow Beach’s resident veterinarian, and the darker-haired woman was Tasha, the family’s actress.

  “Tasha and her boyfriend hosted an improv class for my guests earlier this evening.” Georgia seemed proud of this offering, but Liza could think of nothing more unbearable than attending an improv class. Just the thought gave her hives.

  Tasha wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, that’s going to be a one-time thing, Mom. Nobody liked it. The handsome man staying in room five tried to act enthused, but he was just being kind. Improv is not for the unsuspecting masses.”

  Georgia waved a hand. “They don’t know what they’re missing. You and Eddie did great. You make a wonderful team.”

  Tasha groaned. “If you hint at marriage one more time, Mom, I’m going to swear off the institution altogether.”

  “No one’s pressuring anyone.” Georgia lifted her hands in surrender. “I just know a good thing when I see it, and I hope you do, too.”

  Tasha rolled her eyes and nudged her sister. “Melanie, tell everyone about Colin and make Mom stop talking about me.”

  Melanie’s eyes went wide. “He’s fine. We’re fine. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “No, no, no.” Georgia stood up and pushed her daughters towards the stairs, talking over her shoulder as she went. “I swore I’
d never be the mother who embarrassed her daughters—”

  “Too late,” Tasha laughed.

  Georgia ignored her. “Let’s walk on the beach and let some of the ocean air chase away the wine fog.”

  No one needed any encouragement. The autumn sun was already setting low over the water, casting the waves in shades of orange, purple, and blue. It was lovely.

  Liza liked the city. She liked walking out her front door and being half a block from a bakery, an ATM, and a gym. But there was something to life on the beach, too.

  Every time Liza looked out on the ocean, she felt a calm unlike anything else wash over her. Like she somehow became the ocean, swaying with the wind and the current. Like she didn’t need to strive one way or the other. She simply needed to be. It was a feeling she’d experienced only a few other times in her life.

  Long-ago memories of Benjamin threatened to crest the surface of Liza’s peacefulness, and she swatted them away. She was only thinking about him because she’d seen him last night.

  “Peaceful, isn’t it?”

  Liza turned and saw Stella walking towards her. The rest of the book club was cooing over something that was scuttling across the sand—a crab, Liza thought.

  “I’ve never been one for the outdoors. I’m indoorsy, as Sam likes to say, but even I can’t turn down a walk along the beach for this kind of view. It’s beautiful.”

  “It is,” Liza agreed. “I was just thinking the same thing. I’ve always lived in a city, so I don’t have a lot of experience with nature, but this is great. Calming.”

  “When your month at Mrs. Albertson’s is up, Boston will feel like chaos to you. At least, that’s what it felt like for me when I had to go home and pack up my stuff before moving here.”

  “Did you live in Boston, too?”

  “No. It was a small town compared to most towns, but it’s a metropolis compared to Willow Beach. This place is special.” Stella looked over at the women who were now crouched down and waddling along after the crab as it made its way to the ocean. Liza had a feeling she was talking about more than the scenery. “I get to walk wherever I want, I’ve made more new friends than I ever expected to at my age, and I found love.”

  “Isn’t that wild?” Liza mused. Stella raised her brows curiously at Liza’s comment, so she continued. “I don’t think the two of us are old. We’re on the back half of life, but just barely. Yet, the world trains us to think life is over. Making new friends? That’s a young person’s game. Finding love? No way, too old. But I don’t feel old.”

  “I don’t anymore,” Stella said. “I used to, though. My son went off to college, and I was ready to buy some stretchy pants, trade in my heels for orthopedic shoes, and dye my hair blue.”

  “Blue wouldn’t be a good look on you. No offense.”

  “None taken.” Stella shrugged. “I just wasn’t sure what my purpose was after my son left, you know?”

  “I don’t have kids, so not really, but I remember how weird it was sending my niece to college. I was convinced I’d never see her again.”

  “But now she’s your business partner? Did I hear that right?”

  “You did. She’s going to help me run my catering business. Her going off to college was amazing. After a year of not knowing what she’d do, she went into business and then emailed me her proposal to run things, and now I’m not sure where I’d be without her. Especially after my divorce, I was lost. Work is the only thing that kept me going, and Angela is the only reason I had work to do. She scheduled all of our clients for months.”

  Stella frowned. “Were you married for a long time?”

  “Twenty years.”

  Stella winced, and Liza nodded. “Yeah, it’s not the way I thought things would end up. But then again, I also feel like it was for the best.”

  “You’re happier now?”

  Liza had avoided asking herself that question because she knew the truth, but now, there was nowhere to hide. Stella was a nice woman. Liza could tell that, even though they’d only just met, she wasn’t asking her these questions out of a sick kind of enjoyment. She genuinely wanted to know.

  So, Liza told her. “I’m not. But, eventually, I know I could be. That’s part of the reason I’m here in Willow Beach.”

  Stella smiled and laid a hand on Liza’s shoulder. “I hope you find it.”

  The crab had finally made its way to the water, and the rest of the ladies were walking towards where Stella and Liza were standing on the beach, laughing and joking with one another. Liza didn’t know any of them well, but she had a feeling they all knew a thing or two about being happy. Liza decided then and there that she’d be open to whatever this town and its people had to teach her. She wouldn’t let this trip and all of Angela’s hard work go to waste.

  8

  Liza was trying to be open-minded about finding happiness in Willow Beach, but she was fairly certain that even the most open of minds couldn’t find any reason to be happy about a burst water pipe.

  She got up a few hours after going to sleep to use the restroom, but as soon as she opened the bedroom door she stepped in a puddle. The water was coming from the bathroom, and it didn’t take a certified plumber to know a pipe had burst.

  Liza spent twenty minutes fumbling around the house in her now soggy pajama bottoms, trying to figure out how to turn the water off, and then another twenty minutes trying to get in touch with Willow Beach’s only plumber before she decided to jump ship. She unplugged everything within the danger zone, grabbed her luggage, and called a ride share to take her to the Willow Beach Inn.

  Everyone was asleep when she arrived, but the bell next to the front door brought Georgia down in her pajamas and a robe, a sleepy smile on her face.

  “Hi there, how can I—Liza?” Georgia took in the sight of Liza in her wet pajama pants and her luggage and frowned. “What are you doing here, darling? Here, here, come in.” Georgia ushered Liza inside and into the dining area.

  The inn was adorable, just like Liza expected. It had the old-world character people wanted in an inn—original woodwork, intricate tile floors, and large chandeliers hanging from high ceilings. Still, even with all of the finery, it had a cozy feeling. Like home.

  “Not that I’m not happy to see you at midnight, but what are you doing here exactly?” Georgia asked again.

  “A water leak.” Liza was much more tired than she thought, and describing the situation she’d been dealing with for the last hour felt taxing. “A leak in the bathroom, I think. A pipe burst. I’m not sure, but I woke up, there was water everywhere, and I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off. I called a plumber, but—”

  “Oh, Jack won’t answer until the morning. For late-night plumbing issues, you’re on your own unless you knock on his door. But even then, he’s pretty surly.” Georgia bit her lip, thinking, and then snapped her fingers. “Drew and Joel do a lot of maintenance around here. Let me wake them up.”

  “No, please don’t. I just came here for a place to sleep,” Liza said.

  Georgia started towards the stairs. “Nonsense, dear. We can’t let Mrs. Albertson’s house go the way of the ocean. We need to get your water turned off as soon as possible. They’d be happy to help.”

  Liza stood for a minute, unsure what to do, but eventually, exhaustion got the best of her and she dropped down into one of the chairs at the dining tables. If Georgia wanted to wake people up to help, she wouldn’t stop her. God knew Liza could use assistance.

  Cliff had handled all the maintenance around their house. Liza could use some basic tools and did her fair share of painting and light remodeling, but she’d never touched a water shut-off valve in her life. She had no idea what to do when something seriously went wrong because she’d never needed to know.

  Until now.

  Liza heard voices and stood up just as Georgia turned the corner, smiling and talking with someone behind her.

  “You really don’t need to do this. I can go wake my son up. And I’m sorry we
woke you up.”

  “It’s fine,” a male voice said.

  A very, very familiar male voice.

  Liza had the urge to squeeze her eyes closed and try to wake up because, surely, this was a bad dream.

  But, no. Georgia walked towards Liza, her eyes wide and eyebrows raised like she had a big surprise hidden behind her back, and she did. But Liza wasn’t happy about it.

  Benjamin Boyd followed Georgia into the dining room.

  “I couldn’t sleep anyway. I’m a bit of a night owl,” he said to Georgia. “Plus, I’ve done a bit of everything. I worked as a campus handyman for a year after high school. Well, I was more of an assistant to the campus handyman, but I dealt with my fair share of plumbing issues.”

  “Hear that, Liza? I found you a bona fide plumber right here in the inn. Isn’t that great?” Georgia smiled up at Ben with the soft eyes he’d probably been getting from women his entire life. Liza knew Georgia was happily in a relationship, but that did little to dull the effect of Ben’s square jaw, broad shoulders, and overall maleness.

  Generations of instincts required every woman in the vicinity to turn to jelly in his presence.

  Liza refused to give in so easily, though.

  “I don’t need a plumber. The leak is very small. It can wait until Jack is awake. I just need a place to sleep tonight, and then I’ll call first thing in the morning.”

  Ben turned his head to the side, his green eyes bright even in the dim light. “If it’s only a small leak, why do you need a place to sleep tonight?”

  Liza narrowed her eyes at him and ground her teeth. “Out of an abundance of caution.”

  “Well, out of that same abundance of caution, how about I go help you at least turn off the water and drain the pipes? That will keep things from getting worse.”

  Georgia’s brow furrowed, no doubt sensing the tension between Liza and Ben. “I tried to tell Mr. Boyd that he didn’t need to help, but once he knew what was going on, he insisted.”

  “It’s the least I can do for the caterer of my sister’s wedding.” Ben smiled at Georgia and then turned back to Liza, one eyebrow arched. “Shall we? I saw a driver drop you off earlier, so I can give you a ride if you don’t have a car. My rental is parked out back.”