Beauty and the Beach

by Diane Darcy

  “Coincidence?” she asked.

  “I don’t believe in coincidence, so now you have my number. I give it to very few people, so protect it with your life.”

  “If you don’t help with dishes, I’ll give it to Mrs. Gilroy and her niece.”

  He laughed. “It’s to be blackmail, is it? Fine, I’ll do the dishes with you. But after, we’re still going to the beach, right?”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” They ate in silence for a moment, and Isabelle enjoyed the warm breeze, the fresh smell coming off the ocean, and the way he looked at her. She finally couldn’t stand the building tension. “Does your family live around here?”

  He shrugged. “My brother is in Los Angeles wheeling and dealing, but I hardly ever see him. Mom, Dad, Grandma, and my sister are all back East.”

  “Are you a close family?’

  “I’d say so. Close enough that they never mind their own business.”

  She laughed. “Do you like making jewelry?”

  “I love it.”

  “When did you start?”

  “In junior high.”

  “Really? With your friend’s father?”

  “With him, but they also had classes for junior high and high school students at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York. I had my Master Jeweler certification by the time I graduated from high school.”

  She just stared at him for a long moment. “You’re lucky you knew what you wanted to do from such a young age. How did you come to open the store in Laguna Beach? It’s a long way from where you started.”

  He shrugged. “After I left active duty, I was selling jewelry through Beckman’s on commission, finishing up my MBA, and research to find a good place to open a store. This was a good area, so I opened this place and it sort of took off.”

  “So you’re what? Fifty years old?”

  His mouth dropped. “I look fifty?”

  She laughed at his stunned expression. “No, you look like you’re twenty-eight. But your looks are obviously deceptive. Let me see if I have this right. You certified as a Master Jeweler at a very young age, got your Bachelor's degree in business, went into the military for four years, retired, got your MBA, then started up a business that did so well you opened two more stores. Did I miss anything?”

  “Only the fact that I’m thirty-one,” he said darkly.

  She laughed again. “How do you keep up with the demand? Do you make every piece of jewelry?”

  “No. That’s not possible. I design every piece, make the molds, then hire the work out to other artisans. I also do exclusive pieces that sell very well. The Starfire is one of those,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Her gaze dropped and she managed not to flinch. Not sure what to say, she remained silent.

  “So, tell me about your career. Why nursing?”

  She shrugged. “I won the local beauty pageant about six years ago, spent a year representing the city, then, when I lost my bid for Miss California, I took the one-year scholarship and went off to the University of San Diego.” Using her fork, she pushed at the noodles on her plate. “The pageant and the schooling sort of opened up the world for me. I was just taking generals and having fun with all my newfound girlfriends when the school had a career drive. Nursing appealed to me, so I checked it out and it was a good fit.”

  “Was that your only year away from home?”

  She nodded. “It was actually about nine months in all, but yes. If I could have, I’d have stayed for the whole program there, but my sister needed me home.” She glanced down, feeling slightly intimidated by him, sort of not in his league with her boring lifestyle. “Anyway, I’m glad to be done with school. I’m excited to have a nursing job.”

  “I can see why you went into nursing. You like to fix people and their problems. But, you know, sometimes you need to let other people make their own mistakes and let them fix their own lives.”

  Her brows drew together. “Ouch. Now tell me what you really think.”

  “I just mean that it’s okay to let people make their own mistakes. From the outside looking in, it looks like you don’t do that. You should have stayed in San Diego.”

  “Obviously you’re talking about my family. What was I supposed to do? Go off and live a carefree lifestyle when my little sister needed a mother?”

  “But you’re not her mother. Did your father step up to the plate after you left?”

  She thought about it and, to be fair, he’d done his best. But Courtney had missed her.

  What if she had stayed away? What if she’d finished her education and only returned home for holidays and summers? She shrugged. She wasn’t going to dwell on might-have-beens, and she doubted ancient history was what he was actually referring to. “Are you asking me to move out?”

  “What? No!”

  “It seems like you are. Like you’re saying I need to let my father accept the consequences of taking the necklace. I can be out of here in fifteen minutes if that’s what you’re trying to get at.”

  He slashed a hand in the air. “No. That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m just saying that stepping in instead of letting people clean up their own mistakes can leave everyone concerned feeling resentful. Going to war made me realize that, in reality, we have no control. Life turns on a dime and we’re all trying to make sense of it. Trust other people to handle their own lives. Stop cleaning up other people’s messes. When you underestimate people, they tend to live down to your expectations.”

  She hunched her shoulders. “Let's just get the dishes done.”

  He sighed. “Then we can go to the beach afterward?”

  She didn’t want to go to the beach with him anymore, but didn’t want to say so. “Fine.”

  He studied her for a long moment. “Okay.” He stood and picked up some dishes and headed for the kitchen.

  She did the same. She might go with him to the beach, but that didn’t mean she had to stay long.

  ~~~

  Feeling as if he’d blown it with Isabelle, Adam helped with dishes and clean up. Nobody liked to be criticized. What had he been thinking? What he should have said was he admired her for the sacrifices she'd made. But he’d been feeling protective. She’d had a hard time of it and it seemed like she’d been taken advantage of. Now she was feeling protective of her family and thinking he was a jerk. Why couldn’t he ever seem to get it right with this particular girl?

  She finished washing a bowl, rinsed it, then handed it to him to dry. She was doing one of those girl things, not refusing to talk to him, but at the same time, not really talking to him.

  When she’d washed the last pan and he’d dried it and put it away, he hung the dish towel on the drying rack. “Beach?”

  She seemed undecided, then finally nodded. “Okay. I’ve been wanting to see it.”

  He grabbed a flashlight from a drawer and led the way as she followed. They took the brick path to the wood steps that led down to the beach.

  It was starting to get dark, but they didn’t need the flashlight yet. “Hold the rail,” he cautioned.

  “I am.”

  They reached the bottom and headed over to the two chairs set in the sand. He picked up the chairs, one at a time, and knocked the sand off them. He carried them closer to the shore, positioned them, set the flashlight on a chair, then kicked off his shoes. She slid out of hers, and finally, she smiled again.

  “The sand is sort of coarse here.”

  “It’s because of the quartz, feldspar, crushed coral, and other rock content. Did you know sand is like a fingerprint from the beach it came from? We used to look at it under microscopes when we were studying minerals and gemstones. We’d spread it over a white or black piece of paper depending on the sand, and then try to identify whether it was quartz, feldspar, hornblende, magnetite, broken shells, mica, lava, or whatever. We would attempt to determine what part of the world it came from. Whether it was from a river or an ocean, which isn’t as easy to tell as you’d think because up to ninety
percent of the beaches are made up of river sediments that have washed to the sea. It was great fun. The cliffs here don’t erode as much as you might think, and most of the sand is actually from rivers.”

  “Oh. That’s nice.”

  “Sorry, too much information?”

  She chuckled. “No. It’s interesting.”

  She was thawing toward him, and he managed to suppress a grin. “It is to me. The beach and the cliffs were sort of the clincher when I bought the house.”

  She walked the few feet to where the water lapped, then retreated back to the shoreline. She stood in the wet sand and let the cool water swirl at her feet.

  He moved up beside her, wanting to take her hand, but not quite daring. He stepped into the water up to his shins, the chill shocking his skin with every inch. She followed.

  “The sunset is gorgeous,” she said.

  “It is.” He stood looking out at the ocean, searching for something to say, something to keep her interested. “Did you know there were a couple of shipwrecks around here?”

  “Sure. The Charles Brown, the Elsie, and the Foss. I have lived here all my life, you know.” She turned to look at him in what was left of the light. “But you do know they were barges, right? No jewels to plunder.”

  “I know. I looked it up.”

  She chuckled. “I’m not surprised.”

  “But did you know there’s a mystery ship that is supposedly buried in the desert around here?”

  “In the desert?”

  “Yes, a Spanish Galleon filled with pearls. As the story goes, hundreds of years ago a ship sailed into the Salton Sea Basin to look for pearls. They didn’t find any, but they came across a Native American village and they had baskets overflowing with natural wild pearls. Can you imagine?”

  Isabelle was grinning up at him. “Wild pearls, huh?”

  A smile spread across his own face. “Yes! The Spanish traded for clothes, then double-crossed them, leaving rags instead. The Native Americans attacked as they tried to escape and the ship struck a reef and was sunk. To this day, it hasn’t been found.”

  Isabelle was still smiling as the sun went down, her face tilted up toward his. “And what is the name of this mystery ship that I’ve never heard of before?”

  “Um…The Mythical Lost Ship of the Mojave.”

  She laughed.

  “What?” he asked warily.

  “The mythical part didn’t tip you off?”

  He grinned. “I rarely let reality interfere with my fun.” He looked out at the ocean, then back at her. “I’m sorry for earlier. I know how much you care for your family and it’s none of my business.”

  She glanced out at the ocean again. “You’re right. It’s not.”

  He wondered if she’d accept the excuse that he might be falling in love with her and worried about her. Probably not. “I had a good time tonight.”

  She smiled. “Me, too. You’re expanding my palate, and this place is enchanting.”

  She was enchanting, with her blonde, silky hair blowing in the light breeze, and her skin catching the last rays of the sunset. He cleared his throat. “Do you like your job?”

  “I love it.”

  “I’m glad. I probably wouldn’t ever go in to see the doctor if you weren’t there.”

  She looked away for a moment. “Caitlyn thinks you have Florence Nightingale Syndrome.”

  “So I heard. Sounds serious. What is it and is there a cure?”

  She looked up at him, laughing. “You’ve never heard of it?”

  “No, never,” he lied. “What is it?”

  Suspicion narrowed her eyes and lips. “It’s when your knee hurts and you have to go in to see the doctor.”

  He laughed. “Liar.”

  She grinned. “You lied first.”

  “So do you have a lot of men fall in love with you because you’re their nurse?”

  “No.” She looked down at the water.

  He cursed himself for embarrassing her and for being so obvious.

  “I like being a veteran’s nurse. Everyone has a story. The men and women who show up there have usually been around the world. Since I haven’t traveled much at all, it’s exciting to hear their stories.” She slid her gaze up to his and grinned. “But I have to admit, with the older vets, it’s mostly off-color jokes.”

  He laughed. “That I can believe.”

  “The sun is down.”

  “So it is. Come on. I want to show you something.” He led her back to the chairs. They sat down and he picked up the flashlight and pointed it up so filtered light bathed the sand. “Okay, now watch closely and don’t move.”

  They both studied the sand and soon tiny, white crabs were poking out of the sand and scuttling around to jump into different holes.

  Isabelle laughed. “They’re hilarious.”

  They watched them for a while, and then Isabelle asked, “Are you dating anyone?”

  He froze, took a breath, and hoped there was a reason for her question. “No. You're the only one I want to date. I’m just waiting until you’re ready.”

  She looked down and her hair covered her expression.

  He just couldn’t seem to help being an idiot, could he?

  She stood. “Let’s walk along the shore.”

  He jumped up and turned off the flashlight, walking beside her.

  She stopped. “Now I’m worried about stepping on the little guys.”

  “They can hear us walking. They’ll stay buried until we’re long gone. But you can turn on the flashlight if you want.”

  She took it, turned it on, and stepped forward. “This is nice. Walking on the beach after dark, I mean. Even though I’ve grown up here, I haven’t done this before.” She shone the light on a small piece of driftwood, picking it up and studying it under the light. “Look how pretty it is.”

  “It’s a good piece.”

  “I like the design here.” She pointed to a broken part that revealed a lighter center.

  “You should keep it.”

  “No.” She threw the driftwood off to the side and continued walking. Adam marked where it landed.

  “I wish my sister could see this. She loves going to the beach.”

  “Bring her anytime.”

  “Thanks. Maybe after the necklace is found.”

  Adam nodded. “How’s your family holding up?”

  “As well as can be expected.”

  “I knew your dad was a former alcoholic when I hired him. But I liked him. And I believe in giving people second chances.”

  “How about third chances?” she asked quietly.

  He sighed. “The fool-me-twice quote comes to mind.”

  She nodded. “I don’t blame you. Not after what happened.”

  “So, with your dad having problems the way he did, how did you and your sister manage?”

  “The best we could. I worked in a fast food place after school three days a week, so Courtney was alone a lot.”

  He waited for her to say more, and when she didn't, he said, “I always worked or was in after-school programs from the time I was young, too.”

  “Where at?”

  “Taking jewelry classes, working in Mr. Beckman’s shop, JROTC.”

  “Was that the keeping-you-out-of-trouble thing your two dads cooked up?”

  He laughed. “You remember that, huh? Yes, they were keeping us out of trouble. So how did the beauty pageant come about?”

  She bent down to dig a shell out of the sand. “I was working at the fast food place and one of the girls there had some younger sisters involved in pageant life. She suggested I try for the local crown to give the brats some competition.” She smiled. “Her words, not mine. After hearing about the scholarship I got some clothes from the thrift shop and borrowed a few more. I memorized a humorous reading about why the Borgia family felt it necessary to poison their friends and enemies, and no one was more surprised than me when I won.” She smiled. “People around town still call me Beauty sometimes.”r />
  “Because you won the contest? I don’t think that’s the reason.”

  She looked away. “Thanks. So, if you don’t mind my asking, how did you get your injuries?”

  Adam shoved his hands into his pockets. “Afghanistan. Roadside bomb. Bullet to the leg.”

  “I’m sorry. If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.”

  “It’s okay. I certainly have no problem asking you personal questions.” He shook his head. “We thought it was just an ordinary day, you know? I was actually lucky. Two others died, one my commander. After the IED went off, we were pinned down for five hours.”

  “How did you get away?” she asked softly.

  “We crawled through a cornfield, took the enemy by surprise, and ran them out of the village.”

  She put a hand to her throat. “I’d heard from the nurses that you received the Silver Star for courage and leadership during battle.”

  He shrugged. “I was doing my job.”

  She was silent for a moment, then she blew out a breath. “The day I showed up at your house with my father, I was sure surprised to find out you were my dad’s boss.”

  “Yeah. Me, too,” he said, glad for the change of subject.

  “I’m grateful to you for taking a chance on him. It meant a lot to him at a time when he really needed the boost in self-confidence.”

  He shrugged. “I liked him. He made a great salesman.” He hesitated. “I guess you’re still worried about him?”

  She shrugged. “I’m worried the necklace will never be found. I’m worried about how he’ll make a living in the here and now. I’m worried he’ll relapse.”

  “I don’t believe it was your dad’s intention to steal the necklace. If you want, I could recommend him to one of my friends who has a clothing store in the mall. But he’ll have to promise not to borrow any merchandise.”

  She looked up at him. “Really? That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

  He looked down at the sand. He was a soft touch, that was for sure, but he couldn’t get enough of that admiring tone coming from her. Besides, what was he supposed to do? With her looking at him like he was a hero or something, he was very tempted to just tell her to forget about the necklace, that he wouldn’t press charges. It would be a big financial hit for him, but he could manage it.