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His smartphone buzzed in his pocket and he fished it out. A work call. He paused a moment, torn between taking the call and having another conversation with Carys, but the decision became easier when he heard something hard and heavy thump against Carys’s closed door. His little darling had just thrown something. He closed his eyes for a brief second and then walked away. “Hey, Gary,” he answered, switching gears almost gratefully. “How’s the Mercer and Jones acquisition coming?”

  Standing at the helm of a multimillion-dollar company was easier by far than handling the fickle emotions of one eleven-year-old girl.

  Heaven help him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “SERIOUSLY?” LINDY gaped at her older sister, Lora, both incredulous and irritated all over again. “Did you not hear what I said about the toilet? The same toilet that the plumber fished five ties from?”

  “Yeah, I heard you. She’s a terror, I get it,” Lora said, pinching the bridge of her nose and pulling her long, thick black hair into a quick ponytail to escape the smothering humidity of St. John. “But we can’t afford to be scaring off patrons, especially during the off-season. If you’d take a minute to sit down with me and look at the numbers you’d see we need every penny. Larimar is in serious trouble, Lindy. It’s time you set aside your natural inclination to say and do whatever you like and go apologize to Mr. Weston for calling his kid a brat.”

  “She is a brat,” Lindy countered mulishly. “And I’m not apologizing.”

  “Lindy,” Lora warned, looking as exasperated with Lindy as Lindy was with the whole damn situation. A few weeks ago she’d been cruising Mulholland Drive with freshly colored hair to lighten her natural mousy brown, living the Hollywood dream—or nightmare, depending on the day—and now she was back home in St. John, working with her sisters to save the family resort because she didn’t have it in her to say sayonara to the whole situation. To make matters worse, after a few weeks in the Caribbean sun and salty water, her very expensive dye job was going to turn into an ugly mess. So much for making an investment into her future.

  Okay, so she wasn’t as cavalier about some things as she’d like to let on, she grumbled to herself. But Lora was on her last nerve and making it increasingly difficult to keep from boarding a plane back to California, right now. “C’mon, is it really so hard to just say the damn words?” Lora asked.

  Lindy shot her sister a cool look. “I don’t know. How hard is it for you to apologize?”

  Lora had the grace to flush, effectively ceding the point but she didn’t give up. “Yes, the kid is a monster, but do you realize Weston is paid up for the entire month? That’s serious cash and we need serious cash. The next IRS payment is due around the corner and I can’t liquefy any more assets without steep penalties. So, in order to keep the peace and keep Weston from taking his money and going elsewhere, I suggest you march your ass to his room and put those acting skills to work and pretend that you’re contrite.”

  Lindy clenched her fists, fighting the urge to stomp her feet like the kid in Bungalow 2. “This is bullshit,” she spit out just as her twin sister, Lilah, drifted into the room humming. She stopped short when she saw the standoff.

  “What’s going on?” Lilah asked, her sudden frown marring the clear, dewy skin of her twin’s face as she played nervously with the long strands of her blond hair. Although many thought Lindy and Lilah were identical, in truth they were not. While Lindy’s hair color came from a bottle, Lilah’s was simply sunkissed naturally. Lindy had often wondered how Lora had been graced with such dark hair while Lindy and Lilah had landed on the lighter side. In their most heated spats, Lindy had often tried to convince Lora she’d been adopted. It might’ve worked if their faces weren’t so similar. “Anything wrong?”

  By the anxious tone to her voice, Lindy knew Lilah was fearful of the answer. Lilah hated confrontation and generally avoided it, but as of late she’d gotten a bit tougher it seemed, if only marginally so. “The little demon spawn in Bungalow 2 has been up to her usual antics.”

  “What’d she flush down the toilet this time?” Lilah asked.

  “Sand. Lots and lots of sand,” Lindy answered.

  Lilah made a face. “What are we going to do? Should I have Celly call the plumber again?”

  “Yes, please. And while you’re doing that, our sister dear is going to apologize to the demon spawn’s father for being so rude,” Lora said.

  Lindy narrowed her stare at Lora. “If you want an apology, why don’t you go give one and say it’s from me and call it a day? I’m afraid if I go near the kid I’ll commit a felony.”

  Lilah shared a look with Lora—and the fact that her twin seemed ready to side with the big bad older sister gave Lindy momentary pause—then said, “Lindy, I know you don’t want to but Lora’s right, we can’t afford to lose him as a patron. Larimar needs his money. I’m sorry. Just get it over with and then I’ll make sure to handle the calls for Bungalow 2 from now on if you think that would help.”

  “Forget it,” Lindy muttered with a scowl. “I’ll do it. But I just want to go on record as to say that this sucks and you both suck, too.”

  “Duly noted,” Lora said drily, then gestured. “Go before they start packing.”

  Lindy bit down on the impulse to tell Lora where to stick it and headed toward Bungalow 2. It wasn’t Lora’s fault that Larimar was sinking in financial quicksand. Lindy understood they were all doing what they could to save a beloved sinking ship but Lindy was not above feeling a bit emotionally manipulated into helping when she had her own life to live.

  In Hollywood, it was crucial to be seen. How was anyone going to see her here? Before leaving L.A. she’d been hoping and praying that she’d landed the national commercial gig she’d auditioned for but she’d been sorely vexed, as the St. John locals would say, to discover the part had been awarded to the woman who’d no doubt said yes to the director’s vulgar suggestion that had involved her mouth and his genitals. Disgusting little pig of a man, she thought, remembering with a shudder. Oh, who cared? Who wanted to be in a tampon commercial anyway?

  Lindy trudged through the sand to Bungalow 2 and, drawing a deep breath, knocked on the door and tried channeling a calm and peaceful vibe when in fact, she was still sporting a distinctly uncooperative attitude.

  The little bugger herself opened the door. What luck, Lindy thought drily. Just get it over with, she told herself.

  “Is your dad here?” Lindy asked, forcing a smile that she didn’t feel.

  The girl, Carys, had the look of a child accustomed to getting her way at the expense of others. Lindy knew this look because half the kids in Hollywood wore it well. “What do you want with my dad?” she asked, lounging idly against the door frame. “Gonna tell him more lies about me?”

  Lindy ignored that and bared her teeth in a wretched facsimile of a wider grin. “So, here or not?”

  “Your hotel sucks,” Carys announced, watching for Lindy’s reaction. “We’ve definitely stayed in better, you know. In places with toilets that actually work,” she added with a sly look. The brat was trying to bait her. If Lindy collected a paycheck she would’ve said she didn’t get paid enough to deal with this crap.

  “I take it he’s not here,” Lindy said, cocking her head to the side, openly assessing the kid. “Otherwise you’d be watching your mouth a little more closely. I get your act, kid. You play the sweet innocent girl for your dad but when his back is turned you show your true colors. You’re spoiled, mean, selfish and cruel,” Lindy said, taking pleasure in the way the girl’s face had begun to redden. “Oh, and chances are no one really likes you, which is something you probably know but pretend not to care about because, let’s face it, being a jerk is a lonely life. But let me fill you in on a secret, short stuff, this lonely childhood of yours is only going to get worse because unless you change your attitude, no one is ever going to want to be around y
ou...not even your dad.”

  “Shut up,” Carys said.

  “Hey, kudos, kid, for the lip tremble,” Lindy said, being quite brutal, probably more than what was required but Lindy was still pissed about the toilet. “Pretty convincing. If I wasn’t already wise to your act, I might’ve bought it.”

  At that Carys’s eyes actually welled and Lindy felt a pang of remorse for taking it to that level but the kid had it coming, for sure. Today Lindy was Karma’s handmaiden.

  “I’m telling my dad,” she whispered, her voice cracking a bit. For a split second Lindy actually saw something in the girl’s raw expression that smacked of genuine emotion. A moment of doubt crossed her mind as she thought to soften the harsh words but the moment passed as quickly as a tropical storm and suddenly Carys screamed before slamming the door in Lindy’s face, “My daddy is going to sue you for every penny you own for being so mean to me!”

  “Yeah, well good luck with that!” Lindy shouted back, forgetting her earlier doubt. Then she added, “Brat!” for good measure.

  Well, that hadn’t gone well. But surely Lora had to have known it wouldn’t. Maybe her sister had set her up. Customer service wasn’t her specialty or niche. And curse her own stubbornness. Maybe she ought to have let Lilah handle the situation with Bungalow 2, after all, because clearly Lindy simply wasn’t cut out for this touchy-feely stuff. Damn, damn, damn, Lindy thought grumpily. She had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well for anyone. At this rate, she might’ve single-handedly ruined Larimar’s chances of pulling through this disaster in one day. Good job, Lindy!

  * * *

  “AND THEN...AND then...” Carys’s voice hitched on a hysterical hiccup as Gabe cradled his daughter as she sobbed in his arms. “And then, she called me...she called me...a bad...n-name, Daddy!”

  “What sort of bad name, sweetheart?” he asked, barely holding his temper in check. “Go ahead, you can tell me. I’ll take care of this once and for all if you just tell me what happened.”

  Carys ground the tears from her eyes and then wailed, “She called me a...b-word!”

  The b-word. Hmm...well, the range could land between a whole lot of different insults from mild to harsh. He’d only been gone for an hour and a half, just long enough for Carys to calm down so they could discuss her behavior, but in the space of that time, that woman had apparently returned to the bungalow to call his daughter names. A small niggling doubt worried at his thoughts even as his temper reached a dangerous place. Carys was only eleven; the woman had no right to call his daughter names no matter what she’d allegedly done to the damn toilet. Still, that one percent of doubt countered with grim logic. Carys was...a handful. The b-word was the least of the insults recently hurled at his daughter. In fact, her last nanny...well, he was pretty sure the woman had called her something quite unpleasant in Swedish.

  “Honey, why would she just show up and start calling you names?” he asked, unable to bury that small doubt under his instinct to defend his daughter. “Maybe it was a misunderstanding....”

  “Daddy, you don’t believe me?” Carys’s head popped from his shoulder, her eyes hard and mean.

  “It’s not that I don’t believe you, sweetheart,” he said evenly. “But sometimes there are misunderstandings.”

  “I’m not stupid or deaf. She called me a b-word. How am I supposed to misunderstand that?”

  Ah hell, he’d walked into that one. Carys was much too smart to pull off that kind of deflection. He sighed and shook his head. “Carys...be honest with me.... Why do you think a relative stranger would just start calling you names? That doesn’t make a lot of sense. Did you, possibly, say something that might’ve been offensive?”

  “Why are you taking her side?” Carys said, openly wounded and rapidly growing angry. “You’re supposed to be on my side! Not hers. She’s a nobody. I’m your daughter! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  “Of course it does,” he said sharply, not liking what was happening between them but it seemed to happen more often these days. “I’m just saying—”

  “Don’t you love me, Daddy?” she cut in impatiently, wiping her nose with a quick swipe of the back of her hand.

  “Carys,” he warned, disappointed by her obvious attempt at manipulating him. “Stop it.”

  Her lower lip trembled and she pushed away from him, the action actually skewering him in the heart. “I hate you,” she said quietly. “Mom would’ve believed me. She was the only one who truly loved me.”

  “Damn it, Carys,” he said, growing angry himself, but mostly doubling over inside from the pain of what was happening between them. It was as if Charlotte’s death had taken the light and laughter from his daughter and he’d been left with the dark and dour shell that could neither laugh nor smile and he was at a loss of what to do. “This has to stop. Just stop it already, all right?” His voice almost sounded desperate and if he could hear it, so could she. He moved to the window, a mass of equal parts frustration and despair, as he felt the need to escape. No, he told himself firmly. Fix this. Somehow. “Listen...” He turned to try again, to apologize for being short with her but before the words could leave his mouth, she was running out the door.

  “Carys!”

  * * *

  CARYS RAN AS fast as her legs could take her, as fast as she’d ever run before. Her bare feet slapped on the dark asphalt road as she burst from the private grounds of the resort where her father had imprisoned her; running almost blindly as tears sprang from that empty, yet strangely painful place she held deep inside. She hated it here. She hated her father. She hated everything and everyone. No one understood what she was going through, how every day felt worse than the last.

  Her father didn’t care. All he cared about was his business and making money. She hated money. Hated that her father took business calls at all hours of the night, during dinner, when he’d promised to read to her, when he’d canceled their snorkel tour. Everything came before she did—everything!

  He probably wouldn’t even care if she dropped into the ocean and sank to the bottom and got eaten by a...a...stingray! A sob broke from her chest and she heaved as her side screamed in pain from the all-out sprint. She held her side as she limped, realizing with a cry her big toe was bleeding. Somehow she hadn’t noticed that her big toenail had been partially ripped off. She sank to the side of the road and held her foot, crying. Nobody cared. Nobody!

  “Momma...” she whispered. Just saying the word made her heart spasm with raw grief. Everyone had told her time would heal the hurt, but they’d lied! Every day was more painful than the one before and she didn’t care anymore what anyone thought or said about her. She just wanted her mom again. And if that meant...well, then that’s what she meant.

  She wished she were dead, too.

  CHAPTER THREE

  LINDY STORMED PAST the reception desk where Celly, the local Crucian woman Pops had hired, arched her thin brow and clucked at Lindy’s angry pace. “You got a bee in yah bonnet, supahstar?” Celly asked, using the nickname she’d given Lindy once she learned she was an aspiring actress. Funny thing was, Lindy wasn’t quite sure if she was being facetious or complimentary.

  “You could say that,” Lindy muttered. “Where’s Lora?”

  Celly shrugged. “Not that woman’s keepah, you know dat,” she said, adding with a sniff, “she likely eatin’ young children’s souls for breakfast somewhere.”

  Lindy would’ve laughed because that was damn funny, but she was too keyed up to appreciate Celly’s wry island humor. She had to talk with Lora before the she-devil in Bungalow 2 had her daddy bellowing to bring the resort down. Maybe if she gave her side of things... Oh hell, why even bother. She’d been harsh, but the kid had needed to hear a few harsh truths. She probably deserved to have her mouth washed out with soap, too. Luckily for Carys, Lindy hadn’t had any on hand.

&
nbsp; “Yah got murder in yah eyes, girl,” Celly warned with a chuckle. “Must be good, whatcha got?”

  “The spoiled monster in Bungalow 2... Lora told me to apologize for having the audacity to call the kid out for flushing two tons of sand down the toilet but I didn’t quite manage the apology part.”

  “No?”

  “Not quite. I probably made it worse,” Lindy admitted with a private grimace. “But in my defense, I told Lora I wasn’t in the mood to play nice with that little brat and so it’s really sort of Lora’s fault for making me do something I knew wasn’t going to go well. She never listens.”

  “None of yah do,” Celly said, chuckling. “Yah all de same. Stubborn, de lot of yah.”

  “Oh, really? And suddenly you’re an expert on the Bells?” Lindy quipped wryly. “You’ve worked here for all of a year or so?”

  “Dat mouth de same as de rest.” Celly tapped her dark head. “Hard as sea coral and just as rigid.”

  Yeah, well, maybe. But she didn’t have time to argue the finer points with Celly so she let it go. “If you see my sister can you please tell her I need to talk to her?”

  “Yah,” Celly said, though Lindy wasn’t quite sure if Celly was just saying what Lindy wanted to hear or if she’d truly give Lora the message. Lora and Celly didn’t get along. Under normal circumstances, anyone who bumped heads with Lora was an automatic friend to Lindy but Celly was different. She wasn’t all that friendly and she rarely did what anyone told her to do unless it aligned with what Celly had already planned for herself. Lora had tried to talk Pops into letting Celly go but the man had stubbornly refused. Plain and simple, he liked the ornery woman. So she remained. The only one who didn’t seem to rub her wrong was Lilah, but honestly, her twin had the disposition of a wet sea sponge—as in she gave absolutely no resistance to pressure; she simply caved. So of course Celly would have no problem with Lilah.

  It was one of Lilah’s most aggravating qualities to be honest but Lindy would never say that to Lilah because, well, everyone protected Lilah. It was their thing.