Page 13 of Beach Reads and Deadly Deeds

“I liked college a lot more than high school,” I said. It was the truth. “I hated the drama, always feeling like I was walking

across a minefield.”

Brie grunted a laugh. “True. And there’s no drama in college?” she added sarcastically.

“There’s plenty, but it’s easier to avoid. Where are you going?”

“University of Arizona, my dad’s alma mater. It’s a good school, close enough to my dad that I can visit on the weekends if

I want.” She paused, glanced over at me. “I’ve been talking to my new roommate. She seems okay, from a tiny town near the

Arizona-California border, population one hundred.” She waved her hand. “You don’t care.”

“It’s interesting.”

“Are you one of those adults who misses college and wants to go back?”

“Absolutely not,” I said, and laughed. “I liked college, but I’m definitely not going back.”

Now or never, I thought. “Um, you know, I was wondering. Did you meet the missing woman? Diana Harden?”

“Why?”

“Just curious.”

She eyed me as if she didn’t quite believe in vague curiosity as an excuse.

“She got here on Friday,” Brie said, “and spent all day in the spa getting a complete makeover. Then she spent all Saturday

at the pool reading—pretty much like you did today. Then I saw her walk down the South Trail. It’s the only off-limits hike.”

“Why?”

“Steep drops. Five or six years ago two people jumped into the lake at the top and wham! Hit rocks just under the surface

that they couldn’t see. Now, off-limits. And it’s the only way to get to Ethan Valentine’s mansion, other than by boat.”

“Why is that name familiar?” I wondered out loud.

“Reclusive dotcom billionaire? Sold his company, made a fortune. A genius, invented a microprocessing chip, like the kind

that is super small and does the work of a chip ten times the size.”

Brie clearly knew a lot about the history of the island.

“And he lives there by himself?”

“He bought the island three years ago and planned to close down the resort, which would have been a bummer because it’s nice

and I’d have missed it. But I guess he decided to let it continue, did a full renovation. The place needed it. Kalise says

he has an agreement with management to leave him alone.”

“That’s sad.”

“He’s just weird, and I’ve heard he’s rarely at his house anyway. He has his own yacht and a helicopter and comes and goes

as he pleases. Pretty cush life.” Brie glanced over at the DJ. “We need better music. This is ancient shit.” She walked away.

Ancient? NSYNC and Destiny’s Child? I wasn’t even thirty (not for two days, anyway), and I didn’t think my music was ancient .

I headed to the bar and looked over the alcohol selection. Jason said, “I just made a pitcher of sangria. It’s the best you’ve

ever had.”

“Confident, aren’t you?”

“Always.”

“Ever wrong?”

“Rarely.”

“I’ll try it.”

He poured the sangria with fresh orange, lemon, and lime in a hurricane-style glass, set it in front of me. Waited.

“You want me to praise you?”

“I want you to be honest.”

I sipped. It was the best sangria I had ever had. I sipped again.

“Very good,” I said with a nod. I wasn’t going to stroke the man’s ego—his was clearly big enough already.

His eyes sparkled and his dimples deepened when he smiled. “Admit it, it’s the best you’ve ever had.”

I melted when he smiled. “Okay, you win. It’s the best I’ve ever had.”

Laughing, he walked away to mix up a pitcher of margaritas.

The music changed, and Dua Lipa rocked through the speakers.

I watched Jason out of the corner of my eye. He chatted with everyone, completely at ease, but I supposed that’s because he

was a bartender. His movements were fluid. He seemed to be both busy and having a good time—like everyone else. There were

more than thirty people here, a good crowd, friendly, and no one—not even Brie—seemed lonely.

I mingled with an ulterior motive. Introduced myself to people, then managed to ask about the missing woman.

“Did you hear about the missing woman?”

Or, “ I read the newspaper about a guest here who just disappeared! Were you here this weekend? ”

Other than Brie, no one had known who she was, except David and Doug’s friends, who said they’d come over with her on the

ferry Friday and she didn’t talk to anyone.

When the servers put food on the buffet, I groaned.

I’d eaten so many appetizers I didn’t think I would be hungry, but the shrimp and steak made my stomach growl, and the salad looked refreshing.

I filled a plate and sat at the bar because it had the best view of the room.

I noticed Amber wasn’t here—had she left early?

The meal gave Jason a lull, and he came over to top off my sangria as I stuffed my mouth with a giant shrimp. He leaned against

the bar across from me.

“So, Mia the accountant. What do you do for fun?”

“Read,” I said without thinking.

“I noticed.” I must have given him a suspicious look, because he continued, “I saw you reading on the beach. What do you like

to read?”

“Mystery, romance, pretty much anything. I’m reading this romantic thriller right now. It’s pretty good. What about you? Read

much?”

“Mostly nonfiction.”

“What was the last book you read?”

“A book about AI.”

“Really?”

“It’s interesting.”

It was the last thing I expected from a bartender. I guess I figured his tastes would be more in tune with popular fiction,

if he read at all. I realized that wasn’t fair to bartenders in general.

“Now I’m reading about pubs in England,” he said. That fit, I thought.

“Have you been?”

“To England? Sure.”

“A jet-setting bartender.”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

He left to mix another pitcher of margaritas and pour a round of sangrias for Doug’s group, then returned as I was eating

the last bite of steak.

“So, you like your job? Being an accountant?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t sound like it.”

“I’m very good at my job.”

“Of course you are.”

What does that mean?

“But being good at something doesn’t necessarily mean you enjoy it,” Jason continued. “I quit my last job because, even though I excelled, I grew to hate everything about it.”

“I’m mostly a financial planner. I help people manage their finances. Make smart investments. Give them the assurance that

they’ll be safe and secure in their retirement. It’s rewarding.”

“Low-risk investments?”

The way he said it raised my hackles. “There’s nothing wrong with being cautious, especially with money.”

“Life is all about risks.”

“Life is about living .”

“But if you don’t take risks, are you really living? Or just counting the days until you die?”

I frowned. “Taking risks with money, mine or my clients’, is as foolish as hang gliding off a mountain.”

“What about your clients? Don’t they push you to expand their portfolios? Bet on a new venture? A company that might explode

and be the next Apple or Amazon?”

“There’s a far greater chance that new ventures will implode,” I said. “Costing my clients their hard-earned money and control

over their future.”

“Not everything is about security.”

Now I was mad.

“My dad worked his ass off his entire life because my grandmother had no concept of saving for a rainy day,” I snapped.

“You don’t like your grandma?” He looked at me as if I had just kicked a puppy.

“I love her,” I said, surprised that he would think that. “You’d never know she was seventy-five, doesn’t look or act it.

Always the life of the party—she’d be dancing there with Brie right now. Has amazing stories from her Bohemian lifestyle.

Literally traveled across Europe when she was twenty-one.”

“She sounds like a blast.”

He said it as if that was the opposite of me. My grandma was my opposite, but it rubbed me wrong, the way he said it, the unspoken criticism of my life choices. “Then when I was fifteen, my dad died. She sold the family house and took me traveling the world for six months.”

“What an amazing experience.”

“Sure, it was fun. We went everywhere I wanted. Saw the pyramids in Egypt. Went to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Lived on the

beach in New Zealand for two weeks and took an Alaskan cruise. But when we got back to Connecticut? No place to live and no

money in the bank. She’d spent every dime from selling the house for a six-month trip around the world. We barely made it,

surviving because I budgeted my very small inheritance to make it last, and Social Security payments from my dad’s death,

and worked through high school. The only reason I could go to college was that my dad had set up my college fund the day I

was born and contributed to it every month, and I got a scholarship. I realized then that it’s all fun and wonderful to do whatever you want whenever you want, but someone

has to pay for it in the end. I make sure my clients are safe and secure for their future, so they don’t have to worry about

their mortgage or living expenses. That’s my job, and I’m very good at it.”

“But you’re here,” he said with a shrug as if he hadn’t listened to a word I’d said. “St. Claire isn’t known for attracting

the frugal-minded, so you must have a wild streak in you.”

“I’m here because my boss made me come. My five-year work anniversary just happens to coincide with my birthday on Thursday,

so this trip was my bonus. Believe me, I asked for the money to put in my retirement instead. He said no.”

Jason looked at me in shock. “You’d rather take the money to use in forty years than enjoy a week at an all-inclusive resort

on the most beautiful island in the Caribbean?”

“Yes. This—” I waved my hand to encompass the whole decadent island “—is not practical.” As I said it, I believed it...

yet I loved this island. I would never admit that to Jason.

“Don’t you have a dream?”

“Don’t you?” I snapped. “Or did you always want to be a bartender?”

I regretted the words as soon as they slipped out. I didn’t realize I sounded so mean, that Jason’s comments about my life had made me so defensive.

He stared at me and didn’t look hurt, just surprised. I wanted to apologize, but I said nothing, and Jason left to fill orders.