“Look at you.” Deb nudged her friend’s shoulder. “Practically glowing whenever you mention his name.”
Laughing, April bumped her shoulder back. “I never thought I’d feel this way again.”
Deb folded her arms and leaned in. “He’s the lucky one. You chose well this time around.”
April’s husband had left her for a much younger woman with whom he’d had an affair, and her friend had been devastated. Now, to her credit, April was thriving again.
Ella fixed a gaze on Deb. “Which brings us to another question. Are you seeing anyone now?”
“I’ve hardly had a moment to spare this past year,” Deb replied.
April traded a glance with her mother. “There must be someone out there for you.”
Laughing, Deb said, “You’re drunk on love and want everyone to share your happiness. But it’s not that easy, especially at my age.”
Ella shook her head. “You’re at the peak of your career, my dear. You’re brilliant, accomplished, and gorgeous. Never undersell yourself.”
“I don’t think she ever has, Mom.” April grinned and wrinkled her nose at the champagne bubbles.
“I know what I’m worth. And I’m happy with my life. Besides, I have Duke.” Deb stretched her long legs beneath the table. Now in her mid-fifties, she loved her work. She had her freedom, earned good money, and still jogged daily on the beach with her dog. Flipping up the collar of her shirt, she smiled, satisfied with her life.
“Don’t be so quick to give up.” Ella smoothed a hand over Deb’s.
“After five turns as mother-of-the-groom, Mom has finally accepted that she’ll never help plan a wedding for me. Still, the grandkids keep her busy.”
Ella studied her. “Are you sure you don’t have regrets?”
“I’m Auntie Deb to a slew of nieces and nephews. I’ve changed diapers, wiped tears, and thrown birthday parties. That’s enough family time for me.”
Deb had built her life by choice. She preferred to embrace what was rather than mourn what might have been. She’d been in love before and had received her share of marriage proposals, but she knew they weren’t quite right. Now, the chance for a family of her own was long past.
Eager to change the subject, Deb gestured toward the hotel. The sprawling wooden structure gleamed in the sunshine, its fresh white paint complemented by red-and-white cupolas and a new red roof. “The exterior is complete, but I still have more to tend to inside before the official debut party.”
April shielded her eyes from the sun as she gazed up. “This was a major achievement, and everyone will be impressed. What did your father have to say?”
Deb’s smile turned wry. “Dad finally admitted that he’s proud of my work. Remember when I tried to join Whitaker Construction after graduation? He told me everyone would assume I got the job because I was his daughter, not because I earned it. The same could be said of my brothers, and believe me, I did. But he didn’t budge. Knowing my brothers had all started work there only made it worse.”
“That was typical of Wilt then,” Ella said, shaking her head. “Making you prove yourself twice as much as anyone else.”
Deb nodded. “Funny thing is that it worked.”
“And to your advantage,” April added. “You might not have built your business otherwise. You were determined to prove him wrong.”
April was right. Deb was known for creating beautiful, livable interiors with meticulous attention to detail, whether the project was a hotel, a business, or a summer retreat. On an island of this size, she had to do it all.
And now, her work spoke for itself.
“You’re in a good place in your life,” Ella said, studying her. “You’ll soon have more time to date.”
Deb laughed and shook her head. “You’re not letting go of that, are you?”
“And neither should you.” April tapped the table for emphasis.
Ella leaned forward with a conspiratorial look. “Several friends from my yoga class have met interesting men on dating apps they have on their phones. They swipe right or left if someone catches their fancy. I don’t recall which is which, so that could be a problem if people are directionally challenged like me.”
“Not that you need to worry about that, Mom.” April inclined her head toward Whitley, the hotel’s distinguished manager, who was speaking to a pair of boys in swim trunks and T-shirts at a nearby table.
Must be brothers, Deb guessed, sizing up their freckled, sunburned faces. They had been wolfing down hamburgers and fries, and now they’d moved on to hot fudge sundaes.
