Meet Me in Barefoot Bay

by Roxanne St Claire

  She leaned up on one elbow. “If they include my daughter, they’re not personal.”

  “I told you, I draw what I visualize. It’s the curse of an overactive imagination.”

  “You visualize Ashley with a hammer?”

  Was that all she’d seen? It had to be. If she’d seen the rest of those drawings, the one with Ashley hammering a two-by-four would be the least interesting to her. “I expect Ashley to have a role in building the resort and your house, don’t you?”

  “I hope so,” she finally said.

  “Well, that’s all those pictures are. Memories of moments that haven’t happened yet. You know, if I see something well enough to draw it, I can make it happen.”

  “What else do you see?” The question was tentative, a little scared, and full of hope.

  “Right now I’m trying to visualize how you can make ribbons out of chocolate. Why don’t you show me and then we can come back in here and…” Go ahead, man, say the thing you cannot say. “Make love.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Can you visualize that, Strawberry?”

  Because he could. He could visualize it all too clearly.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Later that afternoon, when Clay pulled up to Julia Brewer’s house, Lacey dipped her head to peer at the minivan in the driveway. “Well, it looks like we’re a lot less than six degrees away from Paula Reddick, town council member.” She gingerly shifted the chocolate ruffle cake on her lap. “She’s inside. Want to come in and charm her?”

  He shook his head, opening his door. “I have to call my sister back and ask her about something else while you take the cake in. But hang on. I’ll help you get it out.”

  Lacey’s heart slipped a little as he climbed from the truck. The afternoon had been amazing. They’d finished the cake, fallen into bed, and spent the last hour in the shower. And yet he still hadn’t told her what had had upset him so much about the phone call with his sister, and she didn’t want to whine or beg.

  Maybe he didn’t trust her, or maybe it wasn’t that big a deal. But, Lord, he’d cried. Something had upset him pretty badly.

  Jayna?

  She crushed the name when it popped into her head. There was no room for ex-girlfriend jealousy in her head or heart. For crying out loud, David was living with her and Clay wasn’t acting jealous. But he had gotten off the phone pretty worked up for sex.

  No. Don’t think that way.

  He popped open the door and reached in for the cake. “You did an amazing job on this, Lacey.”

  “I hope they like it. My business has come to a screeching halt since the storm.” She stepped down from the running board and took the cake he held. “Be right back.”

  “Take your time.”

  So he could call…

  Don’t go there, Lacey. Don’t make excuses where none exist. She headed up to the house gripping her ruffle cake with care, grateful when Julia opened the front door and she didn’t have to knock.

  “Hey, Lacey,” Julia said. “How’d the cake come out?”

  Lacey looked down at the nest of chocolate ribbons on the cake tucked in a topless box. “Pretty good, I think.”

  “Wow, would you look at that?”

  Smiling at her creation, Lacey lifted it higher. “Yep, it’s nice.”

  “I meant that guy outside.”

  Lacey followed Julia’s gaze, catching a glimpse of Clay leaning against the truck, on the phone. “Oh.” She laughed. “That’s Clay. My…” Lover. Boyfriend. Main squeeze. “Architect.”

  “He can build me a house anytime.”

  “Lacey’s not building a house,” a woman around the corner said. Paula Reddick stepped into the entryway, as tiny and trim as she’d been when she’d taught PE at Mimosa High. “She’s building a posh resort.”

  “It’s not…” Yes, it was. Posh and a resort. “It’s still in the planning stages, as you know. Hi, Paula.”

  Paula gave a quick smile. “Don’t worry, Lace. I like the idea. Charity Grambling may kill me in my sleep, but you have my vote.”

  “Thanks,” she said, handing the cake to Julia. “Keep it chilled until the shower tomorrow.”

  “Let me go get your check, Lacey.”

  When she left, Paula moved closer to the front door, peering over Lacey’s shoulder. “Did you guys work out his shady past?”

  “It’s not that shady,” Lacey replied. “He’s clean.”

  “Looks dirty.” Paula grinned. “In a fun way.”

  Lacey just laughed softly. Oh, if Paula only knew how Lacey had spent her afternoon.

  “What’s your plan to counteract Charity’s flyer campaign?”

  Lacey drew back, surprised. “What flyer campaign?”

  “Get thee into town, m’dear. You’re up against a street team of people trying to stop you before you start. They’re all under her wrinkled old thumb.”

  Lacey sighed as Julia returned with a check. “Thanks for the business, Julia. And for the warning, Paula. Guess I’ll head into town and see how bad the damage is.”

  As she came out, Clay hung up the phone and opened the door for her. “All set?”

  “Maybe not yet. We have to head into town now.”

  On the way there she explained what Paula had told her, zeroing in on a bright yellow flyer with bold black letters as soon as they got to Ms. Icey’s, an ice cream parlor on the outskirts of Mimosa Key’s undersized downtown.

  SAVE MIMOSA KEY!

  Stop all zoning modifications!

  Be heard at the Town Council meeting on September 15 at 10:00 AM!

  Don’t let progress replace pristine!

  “Pull over, Clay. I’ll grab it.” She climbed out of the car, marching into the store to ask Bernadette Icey to take it down, barely noticing a group of teens at a corner table.

  “Mom!” Ashley’s voice broke through the laughter.

  Lacey glanced at the group, all of their faces unfamiliar to her but one. “Ashley, what are you doing here?”

  She popped up and threaded through a few empty tables to get to Lacey. “We just came in for ice cream. What are you doing here?” Her eyes were bright, her color high. She definitely hadn’t been expecting Lacey to walk in.

  Lacey looked at the kids again. “Who are they?”

  “Just my new friends. Some of them live down south near us, so I’m getting to know some other people.”

  “Where’s Meagan?”

  “Oh, Mom, Meagan is turning into such a—”

  “Is that Tiffany Osborne?”

  Ashley hushed her, blocking the view. “Mom, you don’t have to say her name like that. She’s not some kind of pothead.”

  But Lacey wasn’t sure of that. “I have to get that flyer in the window down. Is Bernadette here?”

  “Miss Icey?” Ashley turned. “No, but that kid’s the manager.”

  Behind the counter a sixteen-year-old was texting. “Then he won’t care if I do this.” Lacey slipped behind the front table and ripped down the yellow flyer. “Go get your stuff, Ashley.”

  “What? Why can’t I stay?”

  “Because I don’t know these kids.” Weak argument, but Lacey had a bad feeling. And Ashley wasn’t exactly dragging her over to meet them all.

  “Hey, Ash!” A boy with swooping bangs and skinny shoulders called out. “Move your ash back here.” The entire table hooted with laughter.

  Ashley’s cheeks flamed. “Shut up, Matt.”

  Lacey almost reprimanded her for saying shut up, mostly out of habit, but honestly, that felt like the least of her problems. “Get your stuff and let’s go,” she whispered. “Now.”

  “Mom, why?”

  “Because…” I said so was just lame and this was not the time or place to make her point. She lifted the flyer. “I need your help getting rid of these. They’re all over town.”

  “What are they?” Ashley took the flyer and read. “What the…”

  “So get your bag and let’s go,” Lacey ordered with enough force that
Ashley didn’t argue.

  “Gimme a sec. I’ll meet you outside.”

  Lacey was waiting in the truck considering all the ways this could go when Ashley came out of Ms. Icey’s and narrowed her eyes.

  “Why is he here?” she asked, yanking open the door to the back cab. “I thought we were going alone.”

  Lacey ignored the question and whipped around to face her daughter. “I don’t want you hanging out with those kids.”

  “Mom, they’re fine. Honest.”

  “I don’t like them.”

  “You don’t know them.”

  “Then bring them home.”

  She snorted. “We don’t have a home.”

  Lacey and Clay shared a silent look, and then Lacey let it drop.

  They saw about fifteen more flyers on the way through the few streets that made up downtown Mimosa Key, taped to the locally owned storefronts and the old iron light posts that lined the main streets. Every time they spotted another one, either Lacey or Ashley got out to rip it down. With each sighting Ashley grew more indignant.

  “This is so wrong!” she said when she climbed in after taking one off the railing by the harbor. “I knew Charity Grambling was a b-word, but this is so unfair!”

  “Charity and her friends see our project as competition for their business, and it’s a free country. They can fight us,” Lacey said.

  “Let them lose everything they have and see how they feel.”

  “You know what?” Clay said, taking an unexpected turn north. “I have an idea.”

  “Make our own street team and plaster some flyers all over town?” Ashley replied. “’Cause my friends would totally get behind me on this.”

  “I have the plans,” he said quietly to Lacey. “They’re under my seat.”

  The plans to the new house?

  “I thought we might go up to Barefoot Bay and check it out,” Clay said. “Let’s take Ashley.”

  “Take me where?” Ashley asked.

  “You’ll see.” Clay turned and smiled. “I think you’re gonna like it.”

  At least she didn’t argue. When they arrived at the property, Clay brought the rolled-up sketch and they walked north.

  “What are we looking for up here?” Ashley asked. “More flyers?”

  Clay slowed his step and got on her other side so that he and Lacey were flanking her. “What are you looking for?” he asked Ashley.

  She scowled at him. “Is that a trick question?”

  “Nope, I’m serious. What’s missing in your life?”

  “A boyfriend, and Mom probably just killed the deal by dragging me away from Ms. Icey’s.”

  “If that Justin Bieber-y thing was your boyfriend—”

  “Eww, Mom. Totally gross. Matt’s so much cuter than Bieber.”

  “Answer his question, then. Something more important is missing in your life, isn’t it?” Lacey couldn’t keep the note of anticipation out of her voice.

  She froze, horror on her face. “Oh my freaking God, you two are getting married.”

  This time Lacey’s steps slowed as heat that had nothing to do with the late-day sun blasted her. But Clay laughed easily, seemingly not fazed by the question. Maybe it was so out of the realm of possible that he didn’t take it seriously.

  “Just answer the question,” he said. “What don’t you have that you wish you did?”

  “Well, besides all my old clothes, my favorite Wii games, my collection of stuffed dogs, my yearbooks going back to kindergarten, and every Christmas ornament Mom ever got me, I guess my own room.”

  The list of missing treasures made Lacey’s heart hitch. Clay must have felt the same way, because he put a gentle arm on Ashley’s back and led her toward the far corner of the Tomlinson property line. “That’s right, Ashley. You need a home.”

  “No sh—” She stopped again, looking from one to the other. “I thought you two wanted to build a resort.”

  “We do, and we will.” Clay’s confidence gave Lacey another thrill. “But we want to build something else, assuming we can get our zoning issues approved and get these two properties back.” He looked at Lacey. “And I know we will.”

  “What?” Ashley asked, looking at Lacey for the answer. “What are you building?”

  “This.” Clay unrolled the blueprint and spread it on a patch of grass. “Your home.”

  “A house? For us?” Ashley’s voice rose just enough to make Clay look up and smile.

  “I hope you like it.”

  She dropped to her knees exactly as Lacey had when she’d seen the plans. “Ohmigawd, it’s beautiful! Mom, did you see this? It’s so awesome.” She rocked back. “We could live there?”

  “We’re going to try,” Lacey said, so completely hopeful about the idea that it scared her. What if it didn’t happen? What if she couldn’t afford it or the zoning didn’t get approved or the property—

  “That’s my room?” Ashley shrieked as Clay turned the page and showed the floor plan, pointing to the space that said “Ashley’s Room” in tiny, squared-off letters.

  How did he know? she wondered again. How did he know just what mattered the most? “That whole thing is my room? With my own bathroom?” For a minute Lacey thought Ashley would throw her arms around Clay and kiss him.

  Lacey knew exactly how that felt. “Isn’t it amazing?” Lacey asked. But what she really wanted to say was Isn’t he amazing? Isn’t he brilliant and special and thoughtful and don’t you just love him?

  Because sometimes, like at this very moment, Lacey thought she could love Clay. Maybe she already did. Was that possible?

  “Look at the kitchen, Mom! All that space for you to bake.”

  The comment touched Lacey enough to bring her down to her knees.

  “She’s quite a baker, too, your Mom.”

  More warmth crawled up her cheeks. Lacey didn’t dare look at Clay because she didn’t want to see the expression that went with that comment. The chocolate ribbons had gotten pretty sexy.

  Wasn’t that what he was thinking? While she was standing here dreaming about the L-word? She finally looked at him, self-consciously pushing a hair from her face

  His gaze wasn’t the least bit sexual. His gaze said he might be thinking the same thing.

  “And my dad’s a beast cook,” Ashley said, crashing the moment with a dose of David. “He’d totally rock that kitchen. In fact, he texted me that he’s making steak tonight. You should come over for dinner. Can he, Mom?” The note of hope in Ashley’s voice must have surprised Clay as much as Lacey, as he suddenly stood, brushing some sand off his cargo shorts.

  “Of course he can,” Lacey said.

  “Cool. Then we can we show Dad this house. He’ll love it.” Ashley smoothed down the curling edge of the blueprint. “It might be the kind of thing that would convince him to stay.” There was even more hope in that statement. Just enough to break Lacey’s heart.

  David wasn’t staying, but how could she convince Ashley of that? She looked up at Clay, who was gazing out to the Gulf, lost in thought.

  And who was going to convince Lacey that Clay wasn’t going to stay, either? “Do you want to come over, Clay?” Lacey asked.

  “I’m going take a pass,” he said. “I need to work through dinner tonight. That September fifteenth deadline looms right around the corner, Lacey.”

  “Another time, then,” she said quietly. “Anyway, Zoe and Tessa are coming over.” And maybe they’d talk Lacey off this love ledge before she fell right off and broke something. Like her heart.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  After Clay took a long swim in the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico, he headed over to the Super Min to buy some snacks to get him through the night of work. Instead of one of the older women he expected to see, Gloria Vail sat behind the counter. He could tell the G-cousins apart now, and Gloria was definitely more friend than foe, and he meant to thank her for tipping Lacey off to the secret meeting.

  She sat on a stool, chatting with a man
who stepped away from her the minute Clay walked in.

  Not a man, though. The man. In a sharp sheriff’s uniform, a Glock on his hip.

  “Oh, hi,” Gloria said to Clay, giving her bangs a quick fluff. “Nice to see you again.”

  Feeling the sheriff’s attention on him, Clay gave her a nod, walking to the cooler to get a liter of soda. When he came back, the sheriff had moved to the candy display.

  Clay grabbed some chips and his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he had next to nothing to eat in the apartment and he’d turned down a dinner invitation.

  “How’s it going?” Glo asked.

  “Good.” The smell of the hot dogs and burritos rolling out of a heated cooking unit drew him closer. “Starved.”

  “Well don’t eat those,” Gloria said quickly. “They’re awful.”

  The sheriff chuckled as Clay took the rest of his purchases to the counter. “She’s not lyin’,” he said. “Charity sells the worst hot dogs on the island. Maybe in the state.”

  “Thanks for the tip.” Clay slid the soda toward Gloria. “That’s the second time you’ve given me good advice.”

  “Just remember, don’t tell my aunt. I’ll be disowned.”

  The sheriff took a step closer, tanned and sharp-eyed, a sizable dude who was no stranger to the gym. “You’re too scared of her, Glo.”

  “I’m not…” She caught the other man’s eye and shrugged. “Sometimes. Who wouldn’t be, Slade?”

  “She can be scary,” Clay agreed.

  “You two know each other?” the sheriff asked, eyeing Clay a little suspiciously.

  “Clay Walker.” He held out his hand.

  “He’s the architect I told you about, doing Lacey Armstrong’s property up in Barefoot Bay.”

  “I’m Slade Garrison.” He took Clay’s hand and gave a tentative smile but a strong shake. “I heard you landed a few on Charity’s chin recently.”

  “Not literally,” he assured the lawman.

  “Enough that you’ve become a little bit of a folk hero around here.”

  Clay almost choked. “I have?”

  “Rumors and stories fly on Mimosa Key,” Gloria told him. “By the time the tellin’ was done, there were people saying you tore up the bylaw book and threw the paper shreds at Charity just for laughs.”