Bahama Mama

by Tricia Leedom

  “Is it true you missed Miss Conway’s funeral because you’ve been on holiday in Jamaica these past few days?” A British reporter asked.

  Molly didn’t want to hear his answer. She turned to go, but Cheyenne stopped her. “Ma? What’s wrong?”

  People were packed in all around them. There was no easy escape. Molly shook her head at Cheyenne’s concerned expression and stayed where she was.

  There was a slight edge to Anders’ voice. “I was helping a friend with a personal problem. That’s all I’m going to say about it.”

  “Was this friend the woman you’ve been photographed with lately? The redhead.”

  Molly backed up a step and bumped into the woman behind her.

  “Hey.”

  “Sorry.” Molly pushed her hair off her forehead. She was sweating and having trouble catching her breath. It was way too hot in here. She needed air.

  Anders looked at the man sitting beside him. “My manager can answer this. Tuck?”

  Tuck nodded and leaned toward his microphone. “Mr. Ostergaard paid his respects to the Conway family via a private telephone call. He’s also made a large donation in Casey’s honor to the children’s charity she supported. The Conway family has expressed their extreme gratitude for his generosity and appreciated his decision to let them grieve in peace.” Tuck covered the mic and whispered something in Anders’ ear. Receiving a nod, Tuck said to the press, “As for the woman in those photos, Mr. Ostergaard wants to make it clear the woman is nobody to him. Those pictures were manipulated by a hungry paparazzo out to capitalize on a blatant misunderstanding.”

  The woman is nobody to him. Cringing at the words, Molly burned with embarrassment. The world knew she meant nothing to Anders. She was just some woman who caused him bad press. That was why he’d left her in Miami. He’d lied. He never cared about her. She was just there for his temporary amusement.

  The British reporter pressed. “So, you’re not in a relationship?”

  “Mr. Ostergaard is—”

  Anders touched Tuck’s arm and leaned toward his own microphone. “For the record, I’m single and plan to remain that way for the foreseeable future. Thanks for coming.” He stood and made his way toward Selena. More questions were flung at him, but he ignored them as he hopped off the stage and disappeared into Jimmy’s office.

  “Wow.” Cheyenne’s eyes widened as she tucked a strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear. “Why is the press harassing him so much? You and Anders a couple?” She snorted, clutching the Hemingway book to her chest. “How nuts would that be?”

  “Nuttier than a five-pound fruitcake.” Molly forced a smile, but the corners of her mouth refused to turn up. Tears burned the back of her eyes. “I have to go. Look, there’s April by the bar. She’s waving. I’ll see you at home later.”

  “Yeah.” Cheyenne frowned with concern, but Molly pretended not to notice.

  She didn’t wait to greet April. She had to get out of there before she did something stupid, like grab a reporter and tell her side of the story. But what would that accomplish besides pissing Anders off and making an even bigger fool of herself? It wouldn’t change anything.

  Molly pushed her way outside and didn’t stop until she reached the street corner. Taking a deep breath, she squinted against the glare of the sun. The air was so thick with humidity you could almost drink it, but it still offered some relief. Just being away from Anders helped clear her head. She waited for a pair of mopeds to whiz by before she crossed the street. She needed to stop pining over a relationship that was never meant to be. It was time to move on and get back to real life.

  Chapter Thirty

  Loud, bluesy music spilled out of Sloppy Jo’s Bar as Cheyenne and April turned the street corner and headed up Duval. Cheyenne had suggested they walk to the Hemingway House. It was hot enough to cook eggs on the asphalt, but the sticky breeze coming off the ocean made it more bearable. It felt good to be home again. She wasn’t eager to do a repeat of the past few days. Not yet. She realized she had a lot to learn before she ventured out in the world on her own again. She was going to be prepared the next time adventure came calling because she knew it would. Mitch said it was in her blood.

  “I’m glad you’re back.” April gave Cheyenne a sideways hug as they waited to cross the street. “I want to apologize again for bailing on you. Like I told you on the phone, my dad surprised me with a trip to Paris. He said it was an early birthday present and the jet was waiting for us at the airport. He didn’t even let me pack or change out of my bathing suit. Our maid threw some things into a bag for me and I got dressed on the jet.” April stopped and squeezed Cheyenne’s arm. “He actually went with me. Just the two of us. We haven’t spent time alone together like that in years. It was amazing.” The traffic light changed and they stepped into the crosswalk. “You still haven’t told me how you ended up going to Jamaica with Anders Ostergaard.”

  Cheyenne scratched an itch on her cheek and narrowed her eyes. “Remember that seaplane that landed in your backyard?”

  “Yeah. What about it?”

  The mild curiosity on April’s serene face made Cheyenne pause. Did she really not know anything about the guy who was murdered? April was always talking about how her father was too busy to spend time with her, and yet he decided to take her on a last-minute vacation to Paris the very night a man was shot dead in her backyard? It seemed suspicious, but Cheyenne didn’t want to make any accusations without having all the facts first.

  Tucking the book that she was carrying under her chin, Cheyenne gathered her hair and tied it back into a low ponytail. She didn’t like lying to her friend so she twisted the truth. “I got to fly on a plane smaller than that. Anders took my mom and me on a trip.”

  “So, what he said about your mom meaning nothing to him wasn’t true?”

  “Yes and no. They aren’t together or anything. But they’re friends.” At least, Cheyenne thought they were. Maybe not. Now that they were back in the real world, maybe Anders didn’t want to hang out with them anymore. The thought hurt more than Cheyenne expected it to. Pushing the pang of regret aside, she said, “I figured out the riddle.”

  “You did?” April scooted in her high heels, trying to keep up with Cheyenne’s brisk pace.

  She couldn’t keep her excitement from growing as they turned down Oliver Street to cut over to Whitehead. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

  “Why are we going to Hemingway’s house?”

  Cheyenne gave her a sly smile. “You’ll see.”

  They stopped at the little booth next to the front gate to buy a ticket. It was off-season, so there wasn’t a line. Cheyenne grabbed April’s hand and made a dash around to the back of the house, passing at least a dozen curious cats along the way. April tried to keep up, but her ultra-mini skirt and heels slowed them down on the rutted concrete. A lawn maintenance crew was working on the west side of the property. When April’s heel caught on something and she stumbled, one of the gardeners stopped raking and looked at them with a curious frown. Cheyenne slowed down and tried to walk the rest of the way with more restraint.

  She led April to the small fountain in the backyard and let go of her hand, and they both stood staring at the odd piece of recycled art.

  April frowned. “What are we doing here? And why are we staring at a cat fountain? You know that’s just a urinal from the men’s bathroom at the old Sloppy Joe’s.”

  “I know.” Cheyenne’s grin widened. She was bursting with the urge to share her secret, but she held it together as she offered April the book she’d been clutching for dear life ever since she made the discovery. “Open it and read the caption on the photo.”

  April opened to the page, moved the horse-shaped bookmark aside, and read the caption out loud. “A gift from a friend in Bimini. Alice the cat sunning herself in the gardens at Hemingway’s home in Key West.”

  Cheyenne quietly recited the riddle. “How I long for those halcyon days, Alice basking upon my cha
ise. Money came and money went, but time with me was well spent. The Devil’s light, so near and yet so far—”

  “It rests beneath my baja mar,” April finished, slamming the book shut and turning to Cheyenne. “Baja mar. Shallow sea. You’re a genius!”

  Cheyenne grabbed April’s arm. “The entire chapter was about how his wife spent a ridiculous amount of money on this house, while he spent his time fishing and getting drunk in the local bars. And where do you spend time after you drink?”

  They both looked down at the fountain and scrunched their noses in disgust.

  “So, the riddle was written from the point of view of a urinal.” April handed the book back. “Gross, but brilliant. Is the timing right?”

  Cheyenne nodded. “Yes. According to the book, Hemingway made several trips between Cuba and Key West while he lived here. It’s possible he either used the urinal to cover up the hole he dug or temporarily removed the urinal to bury the emerald beneath it, but either way, it’s down there.”

  They stood for several moments, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the fountain and contemplating their discovery.

  April shook her head. “Wow. Should we tell someone?”

  Cheyenne’s gut tightened, rejecting the idea. “I don’t know.”

  “You might get a finder’s fee?”

  April was right, but Cheyenne wasn’t sure exactly why she was hesitating. She’d been so exhilarated when she solved the riddle—as excited as she’d been when she dug up her father on Facebook and he responded to her private message—but, like then, the feeling of triumph was fading fast.

  Maybe some things weren’t meant to be excavated. Cheyenne had tried to connect with her father, but so far, nothing good had come of it. Mitch said Navy SEALs listen to their intuition and trust their gut. Cheyenne put her hand on her stomach, covering the spot that felt heavy and a little nauseous.

  She turned to her friend. “No. This doesn’t feel right. Hemingway buried The Firefly Emerald where he thought no one would find it. Just because we figured out where it is, doesn’t mean we have to do anything about it. Just knowing that it’s not a myth, that it really exists, is enough for me.”

  “I get it.” April slid her arm around Cheyenne’s shoulder. “Some secrets are better left untold.” An odd, vulnerable expression crossed April’s face for a moment, but then she glanced away and it was gone.

  One of the cats rubbed against Cheyenne’s leg. It was a white cat with a black stripe on its nose. Not Alice—she was long buried in the property’s pet cemetery—but one of her descendants maybe.

  “Looks like you made a friend,” a male voice said behind them.

  April dropped her arm, and they both turned around. “Damian Rios,” she said.

  “Hi, April.”

  Damian was boy band cute with melty dark brown eyes and a smile that did something funny to Cheyenne’s insides. She knew him from school, but he didn’t know her. He’d transferred away earlier in the school year and had gone to live with his aunt in Tampa, but the rest of his family still lived in town. April never talked about him, but Cheyenne knew she used to have a crush on him too. She’d heard a rumor that April’s father caught them making out and was so angry he made Mr. Rios send Damian away.

  “What are you doing here?” April whispered, glancing around nervously.

  Maybe the rumor was true.

  His uniform shirt was tied around his waist so his tank top showed off the lean muscle in his arms. Resting his hands on his narrow hips, he grinned. “I came home for my little sister’s quinceañera. Turning fifteen is a big deal in my family.”

  “Valentina is in my homeroom class.” Cheyenne regretted speaking the instant Damian’s hooded gaze turned her way. “Our birthdays are only a few days apart. She’s nice,” she finished lamely. Valentina was the person who’d told Cheyenne about where Damian had gone. And why he was sent away.

  “This is my friend, Cheyenne.” April introduced them almost as an afterthought as she crossed her arms, uncrossed them, and then crossed them again all while looking over her shoulder.

  Damian grinned. “Looks like the company you’re keeping these days has improved. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cheyenne.”

  April frowned slightly. “I’m still friends with Greenlee.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  Dropping her arms, April ground her heels into the rutted pavement. “If my father finds out you’re in town, he’s going to take away your scholarship to Stanford.”

  “Relax. I’m only here until Tuesday. I’m keeping a low profile.”

  April sniffed. “It doesn’t look like you’re trying very hard.”

  “I’m just helping my father out today. One of his workers called out sick.” His eyes danced with humor, and then his head tilted to the side. “It’s great to see you, April.”

  She nodded and admitted reluctantly, “It good to see you too.”

  “You’re looking gorgeous as always.”

  April’s posture changed. Drawing her shoulders back, she lowered her chin and looked up at him coquettishly. “I am?”

  “I’d almost forgotten how the sparkle in your blue eyes reminds me of the sun glinting off the sea.”

  Cheyenne snorted but resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Did girls actually fall for that corny crap? She doubted it.

  “You’re so sweet,” April said, toying with her necklace.

  April Linus had graduated high school with honors and was the valedictorian at her commencement. She was one of the smartest and most level-headed girls Cheyenne knew. A few pretty compliments from this smooth-talking Casanova, and she was losing her flipping mind. “While I’m enjoying watching this impending train wreck, we were kind of in the middle of something here.”

  April fidgeted uncomfortably and said to Cheyenne, “You don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Don’t I? He’s flirting with you at great risk to his college career, and you’re encouraging him despite the fact you know deep down it’s a very, very bad idea.”

  “The kid’s got grit.” Damian chuckled. “I’ve got to get back to work. Call me later? My number is still the same.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Don’t think too hard.” He winked and strolled away, rejoining the rest of the lawn maintenance crew who were trimming the shrubs around the cat cemetery.

  “Don’t think too hard,” Cheyenne mimicked Damian once he was out of earshot. “Of all the sexist things a boy could say, that wins first place. Why girls have any desire to date boys is beyond me. I’m joining a nunnery.”

  April chuckled. “You say that now, but just wait until you have a crush on somebody. Crushes don’t make sense. It’s like falling in love. You have no control over how or when it’s going to happen.”

  “You’re not in love with him, are you?” Cheyenne was horrified by the thought.

  “No, absolutely not.” April smiled as she crouched down to pet the little brown tabby cat that was rubbing her leg for attention. “I’m just repeating something my mother told me. She used to give me all sorts of advice. It was like she knew she wasn’t going to be around to tell me this stuff when I was older. Sometimes I think she knew she was sick for a lot longer than we did.”

  “Are you going to meet Damian later?”

  April shrugged and scratched a spot under the cat’s chin. “I don’t know. I have to think about it.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The evening after Molly returned from her Caribbean adventure, she found herself driving to The Boneyard to meet Jeff Worth. When he’d called to confirm their dinner date, she almost canceled, but then she reminded herself she was moving on. And moving on meant not sitting home alone on a Friday night feeling sorry for herself. She needed to get out and have some fun, so she’d gone shopping that afternoon and splurged on a tight red mini dress and four-inch spiked heels. The outfit was for her and her self-confidence, not for her date.

  Jeff was waiting for her in front of the
restaurant, dressed more casually this time in a green Hawaiian shirt with yellow and red parrots and a pair of khaki pants. His brown eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw her, and Molly couldn’t help but grin. She knew she looked good and that made her feel good.

  “You… That dress… Wow.”

  “Thanks. I’ll take wow.” She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Shall we?”

  The Boneyard restaurant was overpriced and campy, but Molly loved its quirky atmosphere. The bar and guest seating area were situated in the backyard of an old Victorian style house that, at one time or another, had been a seamstress shop, a Jazz Age tattoo parlor, a speakeasy, a gambling den, and most notoriously, a bordello. The entrance was through a white picket fence covered in ivy and down a winding sandstone path shrouded in tropical foliage.

  At the hostess stand, Molly’s smile faded when she spotted Anders seated at a table near the stage with a group of people. Wishing she could sink into the mossy patches between the pavers, she took a step back and lost her balance when her heel caught a rut. She wobbled and had to clutch Jeff’s arm to keep from going over.

  His eyebrows lifted with a questioning look. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just my shoe.” She smoothed her hair nervously.

  Sue had mentioned Anders’ bandmates were coming into town, but Molly never would’ve expected them to pick The Boneyard for their reunion dinner, especially when there were so many restaurants in town to choose from… Unless Sue had suggested it knowing Molly was going to be there on her date. She wasn’t sure what her friend was hoping to accomplish, but she’d only succeeded in putting Molly in a very awkward spot. Sue was going to get an earful the next time Molly saw her.

  The animated group looked like they were having a great time and weren’t going anywhere soon. Anders’ manager Tuck was on his right and Selena Fry was on his left. At least five musicians Molly recognized from the band and three women—girlfriends or wives maybe—filled the rest of the seats at the table.