Brian hesitates, and for a moment I think he’s going to admit that he did know her. But what he says is, “It’s my understanding that Lillian wasn’t in New York very long. And not to offend her or her talent, but she simply wasn’t on the art world’s radar.”
Grand shoots me a “cease and desist” look. Myra keeps her thoughts to herself, which is rare. Luke gives me a look that I refuse to interpret. Only Brian seems unperturbed.
What I don’t know is whether he is actually unconcerned about this line of questioning or is a really skilled liar.
“And what do you think of her work now?” Luke asks Brian.
Grand blushes. “I haven’t shown Brian any of my current work yet. When and if I do, I’m sure he’ll give me his honest opinion.” She stands. “Sydney, will you help clear the table for dessert?”
I stand and begin to gather the dirty dishes. As we carry them into the kitchen, I hear Brian ask Luke, “I’m curious. What’s your problem with me?”
“I’m not entirely sure yet,” Luke replies. “But I’ve learned to trust my instincts, and those instincts tell me that something about you doesn’t add up.”
I head back to the table with a water pitcher in hand and begin to top off glasses as unobtrusively as I can.
“And you’re here tonight to figure that out?” Brian asks Luke.
“No. I’m here because Lillian invited me. And because Sydney and I are dating.” He winks at me. “Or trying to. And because I would do anything I needed to, to protect both of them.”
“And you believe I’m a threat.” Brian’s question is more of a statement.
“That remains to be seen,” Luke replies. “But Lillian has always treated me like a grandson, and she’sveryimportant to me.”
“And would you step over the line to protect her from some imagined threat?” Brian asks quietly.
Luke locks gazes with Brian’s.
“In a heartbeat.”
My heart squeezes, and I have to look away.My hero.
Twenty-Two
Under Myra’s supervision, we labelthe shelves and unpack what feels like a million books. Then we arrange them on the shelves. Including those that bracket the kitchen.
Grand puts the finishing touches on the book club/story time wall mural then completes the camera-worthy vignettes for people to pose in front of. Each is framed by the Sandcastle Books’ logo and social media links, which should make for easy posting and sharing. We also decide to offer a 15 percent discount to anyone who shares and tags us.
An hour later, ourSandcastle Books and Arts (We’re Just Beachy!)sign hangs out front, and bright turquoise Adirondack chairs are arranged on the front porch, just beneath the sign, for those who prefer to shoot their selfies seated.
“Oh my gosh!” I say, taking it all in. “It looks like a bookstore.”
“Itisa bookstore.” Myra grins. “And now all we have to do is make sure that everyone knows it. I think we should split up and visit every shop, gallery, bar, hotel, and restaurant on Pass-a-Grille and ask them to give their customers these grand opening bookmarks with the fifteen percent discount on them. Whoever delivers a stack to Paradise Grille could also stay a bit and hand them out in the area and on the beach to anyone who seems interested.
“Sydney, will you stop by Harley’s and make sure A.J. puts them somewhere visible? Or maybe you could convince him to give a bookmark to everyone who comes in?”
“I’ll give him a batch and I’ll hand them out myself when I work this weekend. Do we have a target demo? What kind of customers are you hoping for?”
“I feel very strongly that they should be breathing,” Myra says with a straight face. “And it will probably help if they have the ability to read, and a desire to do so. I don’t care how old they are or whether they’re locals, snowbirds, or simply passing through. We just need people to come in, look around, and buy books.”
“And the more people who take pictures in front of our vignettes and share them on social media, the better,” I add.
“Clear?” Myra shouts.
“Crystal!” we shout back.
“All right, then!” Myra laughs. “And I am extremely grateful that you are loud and enthusiastic! Bring it in!”
We do as she says, huddling together then bumping fists. On the count of three, we raise those fists and shout, “Sandcastle Books and Arts. We’re Just Beachy!”
