“Bulldozer ballet,” she muttered.
“Exactly.”
The sun beat down on her neck, and she was growing bored with the proceedings. “Can we go now?” she asked.
“In another minute,” he said, still mesmerized. As they watched, the backhoe clawed deep into the growing pit. A hard-hatted construction foreman in a yellow safety vest blew a whistle and at his direction, the driver of the first dump truck drove away.
The second dump truck driver pulled forward, but before he’d moved into position, the backhoe operator miscalculated and prematurely released the claw. Debris rained down over the bed of the dump truck and onto the ground.
The construction foreman stepped forward, looked at something on the ground and blew his whistle, wildly signaling for the backhoe driver to stop. The foreman blew the whistle again and again. The backhoe operator clambered down out of his cab, and joined the foreman at the bed of the dump truck.
“What’s going on?” Drue asked. “What are they looking at?”
“Let’s see,” Jonah said, shouldering through the crowd of rubberneckers, who were also moving closer.
A woman screamed then, and pointed at the ground, where a human skull balanced daintily atop a pile of jagged concrete and rebar.
Drue clutched Jonah’s hand. “You’ve been following all the stories about this new spa. Did you read anything about when the first phase of the hotel was built?”
“It wasn’t originally called the Gulf Vista. When it was built in seventy-six, it was called something else. Maybe the Treasure Chest? Why?”
She turned and walked as fast as she could, away from the construction site.
“What is it?” Jonah asked, catching up. “What’s wrong?”
“I think,” she said, “we’ve just seen Colleen.”
Epilogue
April 2019
The late-afternoon sun hung low on the horizon above the sparkling expanse of blue green sea. Drue sat beneath the shade of the beach tent the men had set up earlier in the day, watching the breeze ruffle the tent canopy.
“Miss Drue, Miss Drue,” Aliyah called, racing up to Drue’s chair.
“Shhh,” Drue cautioned, nodding at the infant carrier where her baby brother slumbered. “You’ll wake up Liam.”
Aliyah bent down and studied the drowsing child, who sucked contentedly on a Tiffany mother-of-pearl and silver-tipped pacifier, his perfect rosebud lips curved upward.
“He’s smiling,” she reported, looking up at the baby’s mother. “How come he’s smiling like that when he’s asleep?”
“He’s a happy little guy,” Wendy explained. “He usually only cries when he’s wet or hungry. And he always smiles like that when he’s asleep. I think it means he’s dreaming about something nice.”
“Like ice cream,” Aliyah said.
“Or a big juicy steak,” Corey suggested.
“Or puppies,” Jonah added, as he joined the group gathered under the shade of the tent.
“Or seven-figure insurance settlements,” Brice said. He plopped down onto the chair beside Wendy’s and handed her a cold drink.
“Eight-figure,” Wendy corrected him. “We’ve got college to fund now, remember?”
“Miss Drue,” Aliyah said in a stage whisper. “I want to show you something I can do.”
“All right,” Drue said, holding out a hand to Jonah, who helped her to her feet.
“But I need Mr. Jonah too,” Aliyah said. She reached into a beach bag and brought out her neon-green swim goggles, fastening them over her new eyeglasses.
The three of them trooped down to the water’s edge and Aliyah waded in without hesitation.
“Watch this,” she said, turning her back to an incoming wave, then diving headfirst into the crest and allowing the wave to carry her into the shallow water.
“You’re body surfing,” Drue said. “That’s great. Pretty soon we’ll have to get you a wakeboard.”
“Okay, but I really want one of those,” Aliyah said, turning to point at the same teenage kiteboarder who’d seemingly staked out this part of the beach over the past year. As they watched, the kite soared into the air, and she and her board skimmed over the surface of the water, the girl’s face etched with glee.
“Soon,” Drue promised. “First, why don’t you show me your new trick?”
Aliyah turned and pointed at Jonah. “Okay, but I need a diving platform.”
Jonah groaned good-naturedly and sank down into the water to allow the girl to clamber onto his back, and then stand on his shoulders.
He raised his hands and Aliyah clutched them in hers, one foot on each of his broad shoulders.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Ready!”
“One, two, three!” Jonah called, and Aliyah pointed her toes and gracefully dove, her body slicing into the water with an almost imperceptible splash.
“Amazing,” Drue cried, clapping her hands in approval when the girl resurfaced a few yards away.
“I can hold my breath for a really long time now,” Aliyah bragged. “And when I’m under the water, I open my eyes and I look at the little fish, and I’m not one bit afraid.”
“Just like a mermaid,” Drue said. “But with goggles.”
Aliyah paddled back to where Jonah stood in the waist-deep water.
“Again?” He rolled his eyes and let his body sag in feigned exhaustion.
“Again! But this time let’s do the really cool new trick you showed me.”
Aliyah climbed onto Jonah’s shoulders and stood, perfectly balanced, her arms wide-stretched.
“Ready?” Jonah called.
“Ready!”
He grasped each of her feet with his hands and pushed her off, launching her high into the air as Aliyah screamed with pure joy.
She swam back and looked up at Jonah, water streaming from her face.
“Again?” she said hopefully.
“Again,” Jonah said.
* * *
The aroma of charcoal smoke and roasting meat wafted down from the direction of the deck. Corey walked down to the seaweed line, cupped his hands and yelled.
“Come on, you two. Steaks are almost ready.”
“Ten more minutes,” Drue called back. “Tell Wendy I’ll toss the salad when I come up.”
The tent and the rest of the beach gear and the still-slumbering baby had been packed and hauled back to the cottage. All that was left were the two folding beach chairs Drue had excavated so many months ago from Papi’s shed.
Drue walked down to the edge of the water, where Jonah was waiting, cell phone in hand.
The sun hovered inches from the horizon, a fiery orange orb in the deepening violet sky.
She shaded her eyes with her hands, anxiously looking up the beach.
“He might not show up tonight,” she fretted. “I think some people up the beach are feeding him.”
Jonah put his arm around her waist and kissed her neck. “If he doesn’t show up tonight, no worries. There’ll be lots of other sunsets.” He kissed her again, and she sagged comfortably against him. “Hundreds and hundreds of gorgeous sunsets. And we’ll watch them together. Right here.”
A V-shaped formation of pelicans flew past then, their dark shapes silhouetted against the dusky sky.
Jonah raised the phone and clicked off a series of photos.
“You know? I think we might see the green flash tonight,” Drue said. The sun had dipped so low on the horizon the only thing still visible was a faint orange streak.
“Hey, look.” Jonah turned and pointed. He handed the phone to her. The blue-gray bird approached, neck outstretched, eyes trained down on the water, balancing delicately on stick-like legs.
Drue held her breath, waiting, as the heron finally stood poised in front of her. The bird lifted its head, turned and seemed to be staring directly into her camera. She clicked the shutter only once, and put the phone down.
A brilliant phosphorescent burst of green slashed acros
s the horizon and was gone. “There it is,” Jonah said. “A perfect sunset.”
“The first of thousands. Tens of thousands of sunsets,” Drue murmured. The heron startled, unfolded its wings and flew off.
“They’ll all be perfect to me,” Jonah said.
Drue swung around and faced Coquina Cottage, lit up against the night sky. “Let’s go home,” she said.
ALSO BY MARY KAY ANDREWS
The High Tide Club
The Beach House Cookbook
The Weekenders
Beach Town
Save the Date
Christmas Bliss
Ladies’ Night
Spring Fever
Summer Rental
The Fixer Upper
Deep Dish
Savannah Breeze
Blue Christmas
Hissy Fit
Little Bitty Lies
Savannah Blues
About the Author
MARY KAY ANDREWS is the New York Times bestselling author of The High Tide Club, The Beach House Cookbook, The Weekenders, Beach Town, Save the Date, Ladies’ Night, Christmas Bliss, Spring Fever, Summer Rental, The Fixer Upper, Deep Dish, Blue Christmas, Savannah Breeze, Hissy Fit, Little Bitty Lies, and Savannah Blues. A former journalist for The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, she lives in Atlanta, Georgia.
Visit www.marykayandrews.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Epilogue
Also by Mary Kay Andrews
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
SUNSET BEACH. Copyright © 2019 by Whodunnit, Inc. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Michael Storings
Cover photographs: chairs © EpicStockMedia/Shutterstock.com; birds © Moment Open/ Getty Images; sea © EyeEm/Getty Images
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Andrews, Mary Kay, 1954– author.
Title: Sunset beach: a novel / Mary Kay Andrews.
Description: First Edition. | New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2019.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019003126 | ISBN 9781250126108 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781250240453 (international, sold outside the u.s., subject to rights availability) | ISBN 9781250244529 (signed edition) | ISBN 9781250126139 (ebook)
Subjects: | GSAFD: Love stories. | Suspense fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3570.R587 S86 2019 | DDC 813/.54—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019003126
eISBN 9781250126139
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].
First Edition: May 2019
Sunset Beach Page 41