After they finished breakfast, Justice said, “Let’s go talk to a realtor about a place to rent, preferably on the beach.”
Franklin nodded. “Sounds like a good idea.” He Googled realtors and added, “Laguna Beach Realty is located three miles east of the diner. Pull onto the highway, turn right, and then turn right again on the first street.”
Justice repeated his father’s words to himself a couple of times. He still had difficulty processing multi-step directions and worried whether or not he’d be able to perform his duties as police chief. He thought he’d done a fair job of hiding his concern from his father, but Franklin knew him well.
“You’re doing great,” his dad commented. “Now, continue on this street for a mile, and you’ll see Laguna Beach Realty on your left.”
When they entered the mid-size business, a lovely woman, probably in her middle fifties Justice guessed, stepped forward to greet them. She wore her brown hair in a French twist and was dressed sharply in a business skirt and coordinating jacket. Her deep brown eyes sparkled as she assessed both men, especially Franklin.
She held out a soft, well-manicured hand. “Good morning. I’m Adrienne Bosco. How can I help you?”
Justice gripped her hand firmly, but Franklin barely held it and then dropped it as if he’d been scalded.
Adrienne’s mouth curved in a small smile.
“Good morning. I’m Justice McQuaid, and this is my father, Franklin. I just accepted a job in the community and am looking for a furnished house to rent on the beach.”
“I have quite a few rentals up and down the coast,” she replied. “Let’s look at the listings and then you can decide which ones you’d like to visit.”
The McQuaids settled themselves in front of Adrienne’s laptop and started looking at the houses she suggested. She hovered behind them, answering their questions with her expertise.
After Justice chose three rentals he liked, Adrienne hung a CLOSED sign in the window, and led them to a white Cadillac. Justice slid into the backseat, deliberately allowing his father to sit in the front with the pretty realtor.
The first house was located ten miles up the coast, and during the drive Adrienne entertained them with stories about Laguna Beach’s history. Every so often Justice noticed his father’s eyes glance sideways at her.
When she fabricated a story about Laguna Beach pirates, Franklin turned his head, studied her lovely profile and remarked, “Now, you’re just telling a tall tale, Mrs. Bosco.”
Adrienne risked looking at him. “Yes, I am. And please call me Adrienne.”
Franklin thought the first house was practical and suited his son’s Spartan lifestyle while Justice found it stifling. His bathroom at home in Connecticut was larger than the total living room space! The second house had more square footage which Justice favored, but his father hated the floor plan and the flashy color scheme.
“Pepto-Bismol pink.” Franklin grimaced. “It looks like someone chucked a gallon of Pepto-Bismol at the walls.”
Adrienne laughed out loud. The sound stirred Franklin’s attention. Justice noticed his father peering closely at the realtor. He recognized the expression on Franklin’s slightly pink face and smiled to himself.
“I can paint the walls,” Justice asserted, though Franklin hardly heard him.
“Yeah, yeah, I suppose so,” he murmured before he tore his gaze away from Adrienne.
“Let’s take a look at the last one,” Adrienne interjected. “I think both of you will love it.”
“Just for the record, Dad, real mencanwear pink,” Justice reminded him, his tone peevish as he climbed into the backseat of the Cadillac.
“Not on the walls of his home,” Franklin argued, “and certainly not that hideous shade of Pepto-Bismol pink.”
“You always have to have the last word,” Justice muttered.
Franklin heard his son’s comment and pressed his lips together, his jaw set.
Adrienne pulled into the driveway of a California split level home built into the cliffs above the beach. The style of the architecture impressed both Franklin and Justice. Stone steps led up to the front door, and when Adrienne let them in, they entered the foyer which opened into the main living area. Only the kitchen, dining room, great room, and a guest bathroom were on this level. A short flight of stairs led to the upper level where three bedrooms and two bathrooms were located. Another flight led down to the lower level which contained a family room and a den. Justice liked the clean lines andwhitewalls, starkly complemented with a black leather sofa, loveseat, recliner, and glass-topped accent tables. The kitchen had been remodeled and enlarged and opened onto the re-finished deck and patio overlooking the ocean.
They stepped outside to admire the view, and as he glanced down at the beach below, Justice watched a young woman run down the coast until she reached a set of wooden stairs a few hundred yards away that led to a multi-million-dollar, multi-level modern glass and concrete home that looked like Tony Stark’s mansion in the movieIronman.
“Hey, Dad, do you see that woman? Isn’t she the same one from the diner?” he asked.
Franklin shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun and squinted. “Yes. Same dark ponytail and jogging clothes.”
Justice turned toward Adrienne. “I’ll take it.”
