Page 11 of Hibiscus Heights (Crown Island #4)

“I mean it,” Deb said, her deepest feelings rising to the surface.

“Being happily independent is also a choice. Plenty of people live great lives on their own, not by default, but because they choose to. My friends and family—as irritating as they might be at times—are part of what makes me happy to be alive. But when you and your mother dwell on my finding Mr. Right, what I hear is that I’m incomplete or inadequate unless I’m coupled up.

That’s cultural conditioning, and we’re way too smart for that now. ”

There, she’d said it. Everything she’d been holding back. Deb pressed her lips together.

Taking this in, April nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how you might interpret what we said, but I understand now. I’ll talk to Mom, and we’ll respect whatever decisions you make.”

Deb hugged her again. “I love you for that. Now, if only I could get through to Rachel.”

At lunchtime, Deb pulled into the parking area at the sushi restaurant on the beach.

As she got out and tucked her portfolio under her arm, she took a moment to appreciate the Rockin’ Roll’s flamingo-pink exterior, a vibrant splash of color she’d helped the owner choose.

Next to the rich blue shades of the sea and sky, the restaurant stood out.

The converted beach house restaurant buzzed with locals and tourists. The owner, Kaito, greeted her with his characteristic grin and held out his arms to her.

She greeted him warmly and asked, “Has my brother David arrived yet?”

Kaito nodded toward the deck. “He’s with some important-looking folks at your favorite table.”

After saying hello to several friends and clients at the restaurant, she saw David on the deck with a couple about her age.

David stood as she approached and introduced her to Rob and Ellen Hunt. “We’re discussing their vision for their beach house.”

“We’ve heard such wonderful things about your work,” Ellen said, extending her hand to Deb. Heavy gold and diamond-encrusted bracelets encircled her wrists. “I love your approach at the Majestic. The way you incorporated the original antique furnishings and fixtures was pure genius.”

“Thank you,” Deb said, greeting her. “What brings you to Crown Island?”

Rob replied, “Friends have homes here.”

“Will you use the home in the summer, or are you snowbirds?”

“Both, I hope,” Ellen replied. “I’m from the Bay Area, and my family spent summers here when I was growing up.

I’ve always wanted to return. Now that our friends are here, it will be a lot of fun.

And since we live in Chicago now, we also need a place to escape the dead of winter.

We can be summer people as well as snowbirds. ”

“Don’t get it in your head that we’re leaving Chicago,” Rob replied with a sharp edge to his words.

“Of course not,” Ellen replied lightly, taking his hand as if to appease him.

Deb tried to place her among the summer families she remembered from her youth but couldn’t. Then again, she didn’t want to think too much about that. Second homeowners on the island had different priorities than locals.

Still, Deb made most of her living from them.

“Tell me about your vision for the house.” She opened her portfolio on the table.

“We want something impressive yet comfortable for entertaining by the beach,” Ellen began, her voice animated.

“I love an airy coastal feel with gardens that are an extension of the home. I want to incorporate antiques and pieces we’ve found on our travels.

This home should tell a story. Like the Majestic does. I love what you did there.”

David nodded with approval as he listened. “My sister excels at that.”

Deb appreciated her brother’s recognition of her skills. “I specialize in creating elements of surprise that reflect your personality. Most people have cherished pieces they want to retain or showcase.”

“We prefer clean, modern lines,” Rob interrupted. “None of that cluttered shabby-chic junk.”

The tension at the table shifted immediately. Ellen’s smile tightened. “Our primary home is quite spare. Lots of concrete on the floors and walls. Rob, we discussed this?—”

“Doesn’t mean I agreed to turn our home into a flea market.”

As the couple’s fundamental disagreement emerged, Deb darted a glance at her brother.

“You promised I could decorate this one,” Ellen said.

“And you like modern lines,” Rob shot back. “Or so you said when we met.”

Ellen’s face reddened. “That was then. I want something more relaxing now.”

“Are you saying I need to relax?” Rob jabbed a finger at her. “You’re the one who’s on medication for anxiety.”

David lowered his eyes.

This is what he meant , she thought, struggling to maintain her professional composure while the couple argued. She’d worked with challenging clients before, but this level of opposition would make any project a nightmare.

Those two needed a marriage counselor. Pity the person who took them on.

“Perhaps we could find a middle ground,” Deb suggested diplomatically. “Modern architecture with carefully curated vintage pieces?—”

“See? She understands,” Ellen said triumphantly.

David quickly nodded. “We can work with that vision.”

“I’m the one writing the check, so what I say goes.” Rob’s expression remained set. “We want to move quickly on this. Can you start right away?”

“I’m committed to the Majestic Hotel renovation until after the opening,” Deb replied. “But I could work up an estimate and preliminary designs.”

Ellen perked up. “We heard about the big fundraising event. Can you get us in? We’d love to be part of that scene.”

“I’m sure you’d be welcome,” Deb said. “It’s a community fundraiser.”

Rob’s enthusiasm dimmed. “Look, we want to check this box while we’re here, and you’re David’s sister. That counts for something. Interior designers are notoriously fickle. Usually bored housewives, am I right?”

Beside her, David coughed. “That’s not the case with Deb.”

“Which is why we’re here,” Ellen said, shooting a look at her husband.

Rob’s dismissive manner irritated Deb. She’d majored in design and took classes in drafting and construction management, but she’d heard that opinion before.

She leaned back in her chair and met David’s uncomfortable gaze. A year ago, she might have jumped at any high-end residential project. Now, with her business thriving and opportunities on the horizon, she had choices.

“I’ll consider the project,” she said evenly. “But I’ll be honest with you. I don’t take on jobs where couples have fundamentally incompatible visions. It never ends well for anyone.”

The Hunts exchanged a look of surprise. Deb closed her portfolio, grateful that she could be selective. The event was drawing near, and she wanted to keep her schedule open in case the right opportunity presented itself.

Some clients weren’t worth the headaches, no matter how impressive the number on the check.

She didn’t envy David this job, though she understood that he had a family to support. She would speak to him later, but for now, her business here was finished. Fortunately, they hadn’t ordered yet. She reached for her purse.

Rob noticed this. “What are you doing?”

Deb rose from her chair. “I have another meeting, but I’m glad we had a chance to talk.”

Before her brother could say anything—and he would say plenty later—she escaped through the restaurant and headed to her car.