“That’s awesome. I love how your dad’s dissatisfaction with something old became his motivation for starting something new. Sometimes being uncomfortable can be a good motivator for positive change.”

  “Hadn’t thought of it that way.”

  “It gives me hope. Because I’m very uncomfortable writing in a new genre, and maybe that’ll turn out to be a positive change too.”

  “You’re an optimist.”

  “My best friend calls me delusional, but I like your word better. Is he your best friend—your cousin?”

  That old knot tightened in his chest. “I guess you could say that.” Their relationship had grown more distant in the past months, obviously. But they were working their way back. Sam wasn’t sure it would ever be what it had been before.

  “But you’re not his best man?”

  “He’s got two brothers and a lot of friends. I’ll bet you have a lot of friends.”

  “Yeah, I do. But just one bestie, Caroline. She’s a dog walker in the city.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “Well, she’s built a successful business around something she loves, so clearly she’s self-motivated and industrious. She’s been happily married for all of a year—I was her maid of honor. We met in college. She got a business degree but she didn’t love managing a coffee shop, and her side hustle ended up becoming her main gig. She’s jealous of my summers off though, and I frequently rub her nose in it.”

  “You don’t really have the summer off though, do you?”

  “Well, not since I got my first publishing contract. But I’d rather write than have my summers off. Anyway, a teacher’s salary is hardly enough to make ends meet in New York. Plus I have to do something productive or I get stir-crazy. Before the books, I wrote obituaries.”

  “What?” he said with a laugh. She was such a happy little thing he couldn’t imagine . . .

  “Yeah, it was a little depressing. But I did take joy in helping people express the essence of their loved ones. It was rewarding in that way. But I’d much rather be writing a story—of any genre.”

  “So is the goal a career as a novelist?”

  “I definitely want to keep writing books, but I don’t know if I’ll ever give up teaching kiddos. I love it. If I could work during the school year and write a book each summer, that would be my ideal life.”

  “What about after you get married and have kids? Or is that not in the forecast?”

  “Oh yes, I want all the above eventually. I guess I’ll have to reassess at that point. That seems like a long way off though. I’m nowhere near that kind of relationship, and marriage and family are such important decisions—not ones I’d make lightly. What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re thirty-one—that’s not exactly young. Don’t you want a wife? Kids? Is there anyone currently auditioning for the part?”

  The image of Amanda soured his thoughts. “Yes, yes, and no.”

  “You’ll find her eventually. Caroline thinks I’m too picky. She’s tried to set me up about a million times. What was your longest relationship?”

  “Just over a year.”

  “What happened? Or is that too nosy? If it’s too nosy, just tell me to mind my own business. Also, now that I’m writing romance, I should inform you that anything you say may be used as fodder for my story.”

  “You won’t want to use this story. It ended badly.”

  She winced. “Ooh. I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard. How long ago was the breakup?”

  “More than a year ago. I’m over it, over her. Life goes on.”

  “Have you dated anyone since?”

  “Not really. Decided to skip the whole rebound relationship.”

  “Probably wise. Those usually don’t turn out well, or so I hear.”

  The sun must’ve set on the other side of the house, as it was growing dark. The sky over the ocean had darkened, and fireflies were beginning to flash in the yard.

  She slapped at her arm. “Well, the mosquitoes have come to visit—they love me, so that’s my signal to retreat indoors.” She stood.

  Rio stood and shook, making her tags jingle.

  “It was nice talking to you, Sam. And if Mary gets back with you, let me know, no matter the time of day or night. I’m dying to see how this turns out.”

  “Will do. Good night.”

  “Night.” She navigated the barrier and headed toward the door, Rio on her heels, then turned suddenly. “Oh! You never said—what’s your favorite book?”

  He hesitated. “It’s not some high-brow classic novel . . .”

  She rolled her eyes. “I write genre fiction, Sam.”

  “The Firm by John Grisham.”

  “Aah.” Her lips split into that wide smile. “And just like that we have something to talk about tomorrow.”

  Fifteen

  A synopsis is your chance to sell the editor on your story, so put your best foot forward.

  —Romance Writing 101

  “Thank You, sweet Jesus!” It was almost seven o’clock in the evening, but Sadie finally had a nice one-page, single-spaced synopsis. She leaned back in her deck chair. She’d have to go to the library to print out the document. She always did her editing on hard copy with a red pen—seeing the words on an actual page gave her distance and perspective.

  But it wasn’t due for two whole days yet. She had plenty of time to edit and tweak.

  She glanced at her watch. It was almost time for Sam to return from work. She’d enjoyed their conversation the evening before. That part about his former girlfriend tugged at her heart. What exactly had he meant by “ended badly”? She’d seen the flash of hurt in his eyes when he spoke of it and wanted to give him a hug.

  And what about those family and business tensions he’d mentioned before—the ones that had him hiding away on the island? She hoped he’d eventually open up to her about that. She was a good listener and not half bad at advice.

  She thought back to their conversation. She’d almost told him she was using their ring search for the plot of her book. But what if he objected? He was now involved in that mystery—she’d invited him herself. What if he didn’t want to be included in this story of hers? Of course, it wouldn’t be him, not really. She’d certainly change the names to protect the victims—ahem, the innocent.

  Obviously she could still write about it despite his objections. But she’d hate to strain their friendship just as they were getting to know each other.

  No, it would be better to ask forgiveness than permission. She just had to write this story—mainly because it was the only idea she had. But also because it was a good idea. At least, she thought it was. She’d soon find out if her editor and agent felt the same.

  She glanced down at her dog, who eyed a gecko across the deck. “Time to get some dinner, Rio. Come on, girl. Are you thirsty? Let’s get you some water.”

  Sadie scrounged around the kitchen and warmed up leftovers. She ate inside with her playlist in the background. The berry salad was refreshing, and the meatloaf was even better than when she’d made it yesterday. She was almost finished eating when Caroline called.

  “Hi there,” Sadie said by way of greeting. “How goes it in New York? I hear there’s been lots of rain.”

  “It’s been an adventure. Lots of muddy paws and shaking dogs and wiping up foyers. But overall pretty good. I’m dog sitting for the Pearsons this week.”

  “Aren’t they the ones with the eerie Doberman Pinscher?”

  “He just stares at me. It’s bone chilling. Believe me, I lock the bedroom door at night. And yes, I have to actually lock it because he can open these French levers. Tell me that’s not creepy.”

  “You said he’s never been aggressive with you.”

  “I know, but that stare! It freaks me out. He’s looking at me now. He knows I’m talking about him. If you don’t hear from me for a couple days . . .”

  Sadie laughed, knowing her friend was mostly joking. “At least the job pays well.”

  “It had better since it’s keeping me from my hubby. But also this place is gorgeous—lavishly furnished, all windows, sixty-fourth floor. The view! And the towels. I didn’t know they made bath towels that big and soft. I’m not exactly roughing it—don’t tell Carlos.”

  “What do these people do for a living?”

  “She’s a partner in a big law practice, and he’s an executive with some brokerage firm. Maybe Duke will warm up to me this week. At any rate, I’ve decided to pretend this is Carlos’s and my house.”

  “Boy, are you going to be depressed come Monday.”

  “I won’t think about that. So what about you, Miss Smarty Pants—using real life to inspire your plot? How’s that synopsis coming?”

  “I actually drafted it today. Now I just have to edit and send it to Erin.”

  Caroline whooped, then lowered her voice. “Oh, he didn’t like that. I didn’t mean it, Duke. I’ll be quieter. You can go back to sharpening your teeth on that . . . is that a femur bone? That can’t be good.”

  “I’m so relieved to have that stupid synopsis done, I can’t even tell you. The writing should be much easier now that I have a plot in place.”

  “And since you’re kind of living out the story. See? I told you you could do it. And speaking of your plot, have you heard from that lady on the cruise? Also, side note, I need an update on the grumpy neighbor.”

  “No to the first question. As to the neighbor thing, I feel kinda bad about calling him grumpy. He’s actually okay once you get to know him. And he is helping me to find the ring’s rightful owner, after all.”

  “Don’t give him too much credit—it was a trade. And you might regret it when you’re stuck for hours at a wedding with a curmudgeon.”

  Sadie winced. She’d kind of exaggerated Sam’s grumpiness and downplayed his looks. Otherwise Caroline would’ve been trying to set them up from afar the entire summer. “Well, it’ll be worth it once we get that ring back where it belongs.”

  “Speaking of weddings,” Caroline said. “I met someone last week I want to set you up with when you’re back in the city. His name is Drew and he’s in seminary at—”

  “No. Absolutely not. I’m so tired of setups. I always wind up with duds and then I wonder what the so-called friend who set me up really thinks of me.”

  “But he’s so nice. You’d like him, I promise.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Party pooper. Whatever happened with you and Carlos’s friend Evan? He’s so attractive and he’s frugal like you.”

  “How quickly we forget. He took me to that Italian restaurant on Metropolitan and flossed his teeth after dinner. At the table.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Why can’t it be easy? Why can’t I just meet Mr. Right when we’re hailing the same cab or something?”

  “You wouldn’t know Mr. Right if he sat on your lap, and you don’t even believe in love at first sight.”

  “Yeah, there’s that.”

  “Well, when he does come along you’ll appreciate him all the more for having endured numerous letdowns.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m sure of it. Have you heard from your parents since you’ve been down there?”

  “A couple times. They’re in a good place right now. Next month, who knows?”

  “That’s good, I guess.”

  Her parents had been legally separated three times and divorced once. They regularly went through periods when they slept in different rooms. Then there were their good phases. Sadie found it easier when she had a little distance from the yo-yo relationship—part of New York’s appeal.

  Across the line a fancy doorbell chimed. “Hey, I gotta run. DoorDash is here and Duke looks ready to eat the poor delivery guy. Easy, Duke. He’s bearing food. If you’re nice, I might even share. See ya, Sadie. Congrats on the synopsis!”

  “Thanks! Enjoy your digs.”

  * * *

  After Sam finished his take-out meal, he went out on the deck. If Sadie was out there, that would just be a coincidence and have nothing to do with his decision to enjoy the beautiful evening. Even though he’d been outside all day and the air-conditioning did feel pretty good.

  When he stepped outside, Rio darted past the tree barrier and danced around his feet until he stopped to pet her.

  “How was your day, dear?” Sadie asked from a lounge chair.

  He straightened and blinked at her.

  Sadie set aside the newspaper. “You know, ‘Hi, honey, I’m home! How was your day, dear?’ Never mind. I guess you didn’t hear from Mary?”

  “Ah, that’s a negative.”

  “Me either. Oh, but I did finish my synopsis. There was much singing and dancing and shouting. I scared the seagulls away.”

  He stood at the railing, watching the evening beach strollers. “I guess congratulations are in order then.”

  “Don’t congratulate me just yet. That’s only my first draft—though admittedly the hardest one. Plus I still have to get my publisher’s approval. But first I need to print that baby off and make some corrections. Is there a library nearby?”

  “I brought a printer along. You’re welcome to use it.”

  “Oh, isn’t that handy. That’s so nice of you. I’ll definitely take you up on that, and if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I’ll need to do some manuscript printing later.”

  “No problem.”

  “So how was your day? More landscaping or just mowing?”

  “Mostly just mowing today.”

  “Your work must keep you in great shape, huh? I guess you don’t have to jog on the beach so you can eat cheesecake.”

  Cheesecake? “Is that why you jog?”

  “Not the only reason. There’s my health, blah, blah, blah. And also there’s donuts and ice cream and apple pie.”

  He lifted a brow as he made his way to a chair. “Sweet tooth?”

  “Oh, that reminds me. I never did bake you those cookies. But I promise it’ll be my first task right after I finish this synopsis.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  She leaned forward to better see him around the barrier. “Of course I do. I haven’t had cookie dough in weeks. Do you mind if I . . . ?”

  She got up, joined him on his side of the deck, and plopped into the chair beside him. “Much better. The placement of those planters is so annoying.”

  He cleared his throat. “Meet any new strangers today?”

  “Of course. Three of them borrowed books. Did you know the island has a horse farm? Well, sure you did—you live around here. I met someone who works there, training them. Also I met a bicycle courier from LA if you can imagine.”

  “Those still exist?”

  “Apparently. He was in very good shape. I’ll bet he gets to eat all the donuts he wants.”

  Sam stifled a grin. “Anyone ever tell you you’re obsessed with food?”

  “Please. You have an active job and you’re, what, six one?”

  Six feet two but who was counting?

  “Naturally, I’m very active during the school year, on my feet most of the day. But the summers spent writing on my tush? I have to make an effort.” She shifted toward him and propped her chin on her palm. “Anyway, you mentioned The Firm last night as we were parting ways. What did you like about it?”

  He thought back. It had been a few years since he read it. “I like the legal aspects—the law firm, the courtroom. The plot was intriguing and unfolded rapidly. I was spellbound.”

  “I love a good page-turner. Who was your favorite character?”

  “Mitch, of course. He’s an upstart—a go-getter, and the firm was making an offer he could hardly refuse. But you could just see it all playing out, see the red flags and know he’ll have major regrets. What did you think of it?”

  “Oh, I haven’t read it yet.”

  He did a double take. “What? You said we’d talk about the book.”

  “And we are. You’re telling me all about it and I’m chiming in. I’m never short on things to say, especially about books.”

  He shook his head. “Well, surely you’ve seen the movie.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Nineteen ninety-three? Tom Cruise?”

  “Sorry. Missed that one as it aired before my birth.”

  Man, he was getting old. “Still, it’s a cult classic. The book’s better than the movie, of course. You should read the story. I think you’d like it.”

  “I’ll be happy to do that, right after I finish writing my novel. Until that time, I’m on a strict diet of romantic fiction.”

  “And donuts? But what about the movie? Surely you can watch a movie.”

  Her head tilted to the side, a thoughtful look coming over her face. “Hmm. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt anything as long as it’s not a western. I’m having enough trouble keeping my thoughts in color.”

  He wasn’t sure what that meant. “It’s nowhere near a western.”

  She slapped the armrest. “That settles it then. We’ll watch it tomorrow night. I’ll stream the movie and you can provide the popcorn.”

  Wait. “What?”

  “You didn’t think I was going to watch it alone, did you? What fun is that? Besides, it was your idea.”

  He supposed it was. Oh well, what harm could come from it? And what else did he have to do? Besides, he hadn’t watched it in years, and now that he knew her a little better, he found Sadie to be pleasant and kind of amusing.

  “Fine,” he said. “But let’s watch it right after supper. Some of us have to work early.”

  Sixteen

  A good writer gives her hero and heroine a time and place to become emotionally and physically closer.

  —Romance Writing 101

  The next day after work Sam found himself in a hurry. He ran by the IGA and picked up microwave popcorn, using the self-checkout lane, which he never did. He downed his take-out meal (hamburger, fries, strawberry shake) in the car on the way home—again, an anomaly. Then once home he rushed through his shower.