“Anyhoo, the Sullivans now use their spare home as a vacation rental and, boy howdy, do people complain about that. That’s the secret, dear, by the way.”
“That the house is being used as a short-term rental?” What did she care? For all intents and purposes, she was on vacation too. Except for that bothersome little detail regarding her parents’ will and her obligation to fulfill her part in all of that.
Wren broke into her thoughts. “Yes. The Colibri Coastal Association is all in a twitter about short-term rentals. Says they’re for addicts and partygoers.”
“And yet there’s no law against it, correct?”
“That is true.”
“So if there’s no law preventing STRs, then there is no way to prevent anyone—the Sullivans, you, me—from renting out our property should we like to do so. Right?”
“So does this mean you will help me?”
Lacy shrugged, though there was no one around to see it. “Sure.”
“Well then, what I need you to do is run the key over to the vacationers when they get here. I also have a map of the area you can give them.”
“A paper map?”
“Now don’t you try to tell me they’ll use their smart phones.” Wren tsked. “I want these people to feel welcomed in Colibri, not as if they have to muddle around and try to find things on their own.”
Tension began to creep up Lacy’s neck. The sooner she could end this call, the quicker she could get back to, well, doing absolutely nothing. Just the thought of an unencumbered moment was … divine.
“Yes, Wren. I will take care of that for you. I will be over shortly to pick up the key.”
“Wonderful! Please meet Mr. Johnson at the property at five p.m. I so appreciate this, dear.”
Lacy swirled that glass in her hand, thinking. How many times had Wren called her “dear”? She frowned, tilting her head. “Wren, before we hang up, I need to ask you something … do you know who I am?”
“Why, yes. You are one of the Morelli sisters.”
“Hm. Which one?”
“Um, let me see.”
Lacy stuck her tongue into her inner cheek, her frown increasing. “My hair is long and dark and rather straight,” she said. “I used to carry around my camera and take photos of sea life in the mornings. Do you remember now?”
“Ah, yes. I do. You’re … you’re the one in the middle!”
Lacy downed the last of her drink. She shut her eyes, released a sigh, and disconnected the call.
Read more about the mysterious renter of the Sullivan’s house in Lacy’s Billionaire Boss.
Also by Francesca Lane
Hello!
Thank you for reading Maggie and Luke’s story. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. I’d be super grateful!
I don’t know about you but I believe in quiet, barefoot days, aimless musings, and falling in love with sweet, romantic stories. If you do too, please watch for the rest of the Beach House Memories series—coming soon!:
Beach House Memories series
Grace’s Fake Groom #1
Daisy’s Secret Billionaire #2
Luke’s Second Chance Family #3
Lacy’s Billionaire Boss #4
Bella’s Reluctant Cowboy #5
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