Page 40
Story: Beach Reads and Deadly Deeds
He must think I’m completely morbid. Yet he seemed to consider my words, then said, “You’re right.” But he didn’t elaborate, and I felt awkward continuing to pump him for information.
I sipped my coffee and poured more from the carafe to heat it up. Here I was, having a conversation with a man older than my Grams about a possible murder.
“How long have you lived on the island?” I asked, changing the subject.
He pondered. “A few years now.”
“Do you work here?” That seemed unrealistic, considering his age.
He smiled. “I help when I can, doing this and that, but no one expects me to work.”
“It must be nice to live here for your retirement,” I said wistfully. I thought about my own retirement plans. By fifty-five, I would be able to comfortably retire and live within a budget for thirty years, but I doubted I’d retire that young. Ideally, when I accepted my promotion, I would put my raise into a second retirement fund and build up a larger portfolio. By sixty-five, I would be able to take one very nice trip a year. I’d never be able to live like this—full-time at an all-inclusive private island like St. Claire. While the resort was beautiful and peaceful, it was also extravagant and wasteful. Even if Ihadthe money, I wouldn’t squander it.
But for the first time, I considered maybe retirement couldlook different from my plan to buy a small house in Connecticut and travel two weeks a year. I wouldn’t live on an island, but maybe a quaint beach town in South Carolina or Florida. And if I planned carefully, I could take a vacation to the Caribbean every couple of years.
I would be thirty tomorrow. I was planning my life after sixty-five and all the things I would dothenbecause I had a compulsive need to be financially securenow. What about the next thirty-five years? Was life about working hard and then having fun? I thought about Jane and Amanda, who’d balanced their careers with dating. Now Amanda was married and trying to get pregnant, and Jane would soon be married, and they’d both have families, and I would still be alone.
Suddenly, my eyes burned with unshed tears, and I felt so sad that it made me angry. I was here on the most beautiful island on the planet, and I was making myself depressed.
I saw Luis watching me. What was he thinking? Did he feel sorry for me? Because right now I felt sorry for myself. I forced a smile.
“You are a very serious young woman,” Luis said. “But when you smile, you’re as beautiful as a dahlia.”
“Thank you,” I said, knowing he was trying to cheer me up. “What did you do before you retired?”
“Oh, this and that,” he said.
That wasn’t an answer.
“Where are you from?” I asked.
“Everywhere.”
“I mean, where were you raised.”
“I was born in Texas.”
I don’t know why, but his answer surprised me. His slight accent sounded more foreign than Texas, as if he had been born here in the islands.
“My father enlisted in the Navy after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. That was nine months before I was born. He’d never been on a ship before, but he loved it. When he came back, I was a little tot. He had jobs that took him to the sea. He sharedhis love of the ocean with me. Then he got into a bit of trouble with the law, and we—my dad, my ma, me—we traveled on a boat all over the world. Settled for a time in Spain, where I met the love of my life. I was sixteen. She was nineteen.”
His eyes became glassy with the memory.
“My parents left. I stayed. Married Maria, and we had a wonderful life.”
I could picture their epic love story and wanted to know more. What happened to Maria? How did he end up on the island? They must have had children, and one of his children, or maybe grandchildren, worked here. The way he spoke was both old-fashioned and romantic and everything that made a great historical romance. A young boy from Texas whisked off because his dad was a criminal, traveling the high seas and finding true love in a faraway land with a princess...
Well, Maria probably wasn’t a princess, but a princess in Luis’s eyes.
Before I could ask more about his story, I spotted Brie walking up from the beach and heading right to our table.
“Hi, Luis,” she said, then turned to me. “Spill the tea.”
“What?” I was confused.
“Ohmigod, youknowwhat I mean! You found Diana Harden’s body!”
I glanced around to make sure no one was listening. I didn’t want to be a gossip, though I was sort ofdyingto talk to someone about it. So what if the only person interested was an eighteen-year-old?
I sipped my coffee and poured more from the carafe to heat it up. Here I was, having a conversation with a man older than my Grams about a possible murder.
“How long have you lived on the island?” I asked, changing the subject.
He pondered. “A few years now.”
“Do you work here?” That seemed unrealistic, considering his age.
He smiled. “I help when I can, doing this and that, but no one expects me to work.”
“It must be nice to live here for your retirement,” I said wistfully. I thought about my own retirement plans. By fifty-five, I would be able to comfortably retire and live within a budget for thirty years, but I doubted I’d retire that young. Ideally, when I accepted my promotion, I would put my raise into a second retirement fund and build up a larger portfolio. By sixty-five, I would be able to take one very nice trip a year. I’d never be able to live like this—full-time at an all-inclusive private island like St. Claire. While the resort was beautiful and peaceful, it was also extravagant and wasteful. Even if Ihadthe money, I wouldn’t squander it.
But for the first time, I considered maybe retirement couldlook different from my plan to buy a small house in Connecticut and travel two weeks a year. I wouldn’t live on an island, but maybe a quaint beach town in South Carolina or Florida. And if I planned carefully, I could take a vacation to the Caribbean every couple of years.
I would be thirty tomorrow. I was planning my life after sixty-five and all the things I would dothenbecause I had a compulsive need to be financially securenow. What about the next thirty-five years? Was life about working hard and then having fun? I thought about Jane and Amanda, who’d balanced their careers with dating. Now Amanda was married and trying to get pregnant, and Jane would soon be married, and they’d both have families, and I would still be alone.
Suddenly, my eyes burned with unshed tears, and I felt so sad that it made me angry. I was here on the most beautiful island on the planet, and I was making myself depressed.
I saw Luis watching me. What was he thinking? Did he feel sorry for me? Because right now I felt sorry for myself. I forced a smile.
“You are a very serious young woman,” Luis said. “But when you smile, you’re as beautiful as a dahlia.”
“Thank you,” I said, knowing he was trying to cheer me up. “What did you do before you retired?”
“Oh, this and that,” he said.
That wasn’t an answer.
“Where are you from?” I asked.
“Everywhere.”
“I mean, where were you raised.”
“I was born in Texas.”
I don’t know why, but his answer surprised me. His slight accent sounded more foreign than Texas, as if he had been born here in the islands.
“My father enlisted in the Navy after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. That was nine months before I was born. He’d never been on a ship before, but he loved it. When he came back, I was a little tot. He had jobs that took him to the sea. He sharedhis love of the ocean with me. Then he got into a bit of trouble with the law, and we—my dad, my ma, me—we traveled on a boat all over the world. Settled for a time in Spain, where I met the love of my life. I was sixteen. She was nineteen.”
His eyes became glassy with the memory.
“My parents left. I stayed. Married Maria, and we had a wonderful life.”
I could picture their epic love story and wanted to know more. What happened to Maria? How did he end up on the island? They must have had children, and one of his children, or maybe grandchildren, worked here. The way he spoke was both old-fashioned and romantic and everything that made a great historical romance. A young boy from Texas whisked off because his dad was a criminal, traveling the high seas and finding true love in a faraway land with a princess...
Well, Maria probably wasn’t a princess, but a princess in Luis’s eyes.
Before I could ask more about his story, I spotted Brie walking up from the beach and heading right to our table.
“Hi, Luis,” she said, then turned to me. “Spill the tea.”
“What?” I was confused.
“Ohmigod, youknowwhat I mean! You found Diana Harden’s body!”
I glanced around to make sure no one was listening. I didn’t want to be a gossip, though I was sort ofdyingto talk to someone about it. So what if the only person interested was an eighteen-year-old?
Table of Contents
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