Love Lost & Found (Surfside Romance Book 2) Read online

  She got right to the point. “Don’t forget you need to pick Gretel up at my house after work tomorrow.”

  Alexa’s eyes widened. “Excuse me, what are you talking about?”

  Helen clucked her tongue. “Have you forgotten already? We made arrangements after Christmas. She’s looking forward to meeting you.”

  “I had the flu.”

  Something familiar rattled in the back of her brain.

  Porkwurst and meatballs?

  CHAPTER 28

  ALEXA LEFT the office at lunchtime on Friday to formulate a plan for keeping two hormone-crazed teenagers from harshing each other’s mellow. As she breezed through the lobby, Crystal called out to her. “Hey, can you run to Starbucks and grab me a half-caf skinny caramel macchiato with whip?”

  “What did you say?”

  “They put Gorilla Glue on my chair so I can’t go out.” Crystal giggled and repeated the order. Alexa wondered if she had ganja in her vape pen.

  As she drove to the coffee shop, she recalled her discussion with Hannah the night before concerning the Danish exchange student they would soon be hosting.

  “What if she has lice or Ebola?” asked Hannah insolently.

  “I’m sure she has a clean bill of health.”

  “You should’ve asked me first.”

  “Yes, I should have. Mea culpa.”

  “Whatever that means, she’s not sleeping in my room.”

  “Where should she park herself?”

  Hannah shrugged and walked away.

  After work, after her caffeine had left her exhausted, she plugged Helen Parry’s address into her GPS. Parkland was a gorgeous upscale community of broad lawns and equestrian centers. Her destination was a high-tech white mini-mansion with plate glass windows that reflected the dark clouds of an approaching storm. An omen? She pressed the bell on the call box. Seconds later, the wrought-iron gates parted like the Red Sea, allowing her to park alongside a sleek metallic blue Bentley convertible. No wonder she dressed like a fashion icon: Mrs. Parry was filthy rich. Whether she was a trust fund baby or had married well, she was loaded.

  A bell sounded deep inside. The wide door swung back. A bronze-skinned maid in starched gray uniform escorted Alexa into the living room where a trio of asymmetrical Murano glass bowls graced a sizeable marble coffee table. To her untrained eye, the artwork appeared to be original; probably worth a bundle. She didn’t know they were knockoffs of the originals once owned by Mrs. Parry and her husband.

  With legs crossed and heart pounding, Alexa sat rigidly on a cream-colored custom-made leather sectional with light blue throw pillows as Helen swept in wearing a colorful caftan and beaded slippers. “Red or white wine?”

  “Just water thanks.”

  From her vantage point, Alexa watched the diminutive dynamo putter around the gourmet kitchen with deep burgundy granite and stainless appliances, a showroom that cost more than her annual salary. She managed to keep a straight face as she told a bald-faced lie. “Hannah’s very excited to meet Gretel.”

  Helen placed the lead crystal lowball on a coaster. “That’s good to hear. By the way, I’ve been thinking about your idea of writing a book.”

  Alexa felt a warm glow. “I think we called it Dress for Success.”

  “I don’t want to use my name.”

  “You’ll use a pen name. Who are your favorite designers?”

  “Michael Kors, Donna Karan, Ralph Lauren, Stella McCartney and Vera Wang. I mean, there are more, of course, but those are the ones I favor.”

  “So you could be Donna K. Michael or Stella Wang or Lauren McCartney—your choice.”

  “Just like that?”

  Alexa nodded and smiled.

  “How do I start?”

  “With a table of contents. Maybe include topics like The Basics, Mix and Match, Dress Like a Star, Cool and Casual, and the Domino Effect.”

  “What’s that?”

  Alexa shrugged. “You’ll figure it out.”

  Helen nodded. Alexa did a happy dance inside. Not only was she now allied with Bryan’s executive secretary, Lana would hate it.

  Payback time.

  “Just a few things to keep in mind,” she said as Helen jotted notes on a yellow legal pad. “Use bullets and plenty of examples, especially celebrities. Women can relate. Feel free to bring me pages to review.”

  “I’m very excited.” Her face glowed, or maybe she had a Retinol peel. Either way she looked happy. Alexa had no idea how old she was, fifty at least, sixty, perhaps pushing seventy. Whatever face cream she used or however many fillers had been injected, Mrs. Parry was a knockout.

  As she swooshed from the room to get Gretel, Alexa strolled around the cold and impersonal living room that held not a single knickknack or framed photograph. She wondered if this was a model home and Helen was moonlighting as a Realtor. Before coming to any conclusion, Gretel Jepsen appeared. The impossibly pale teenager with spindly arms and legs wore denim shorts, a thin T-shirt with the Danish flag, and wire-frame glasses perched on a freckled button nose. She offered up a ghost of a smile. Introductions were made and goodbyes said.

  With her duffel bags stowed in the cargo area, they drove to Deerfield Beach as Alexa chattered nonstop trying to fill the dead air. She ran out of wind at State Road 7 and turned on a local country station. Gretel turned it off, staring blankly through the windshield.

  Okay then.

  At Oceanview Apartments, she pulled into her assigned spot and shut down the engine.

  “Is this where you live?” Gretel sounded incredulous. “It looks like a slum.”

  “Not everyone lives like Mrs. Parry, but we have a swimming pool and the ocean is only a mile away.”

  More dead air.

  “My daughter is excited to meet you,” she fibbed.

  Alexa got out and snagged the tote. “Come,” she urged. “I’m starving, let’s eat and get to know each other. I can’t wait to hear all about Denmark.”

  Luke and Zelda appeared at the top of the steps. She hadn’t seen Luke since he came into her bedroom with tea and sympathy. The ring scorched her finger. She’d meant to take it off, but had forgotten. Without a shadow of a doubt, Alexa was not engaged. Any chance of being with Rick was pure fantasy on her part. She hoped Luke would climb out of his wormhole soon. She needed cuddling, someone to soothe her nerves which were more frazzled by the minute.

  “Hey,” she said brightly, “how’s it going?”

  Zelda jumped in. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I’ve missed you.”

  “Thanks. Luke was so sweet to come over and check on me.”

  “Is this Hannah?” asked Zelda, staring at the pale, silent girl. “You’ve lost so much weight. Were you sick too?”

  “This is Gretel.”

  “I’m confused. I thought you only had one daughter.”

  “Gretel’s from Denmark. She’s staying with us for a while.”

  “Not for long,” Gretel piped up in a squeaky voice.

  Zelda grinned broadly. “That’s hilarious: Hannah and Gretel.”

  Alexa winced. Here we go.

  Luke cleared his throat. “We’re heading out for pizza.”

  Gretel made a sour face. “Pizza’s bad for your liver. Sardines are much better.”

  “Maybe we should have hamburgers,” said Zelda.

  Gretel piped up again. “Are they made from ham?”

  “No, they’re made from cows,” said Luke.

  “Then why aren’t they called cow pies?”

  Alexa wanted to tell her Danish guest what cow pies were. Instead, she said goodbye and escorted the reluctant visitor to the door. Inside, Hannah was watching Judge Judy. Gretel plopped down on the couch, grabbed the remote and flipped the channel.

  “Hey!”

  “Slap af, chill out, it’s MTV.”

  “Gretel is our guest. Watching music videos won’t kill you.”

  “It might.”

  “I’m going to make dinner, can you help me?�
�

  Grudgingly Hannah pushed off the couch. In the kitchen Alexa said, “Listen sweetie, let’s give her some space, be gracious, I’m sure it’ll work out.”

  “I’ll give it one week.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then one of us is going.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” said Hannah, tying her hair back with an elastic band. “That’s non-negotiable.”

  Alexa poured herself a glass of wine and took a sip. “Everything’s negotiable.”

  She took another gulp. “Hey, where are you?”

  CHAPTER 29

  SARI SAT in her living room, small statue in hand. The carving of a roadrunner felt more like butter than wood. She picked up the business card: black lettering on a cream fiber card with an embossed hand-drawn feather, store hours, phone, and website. On the back was his cell number. Porterfield rang a bell. Scanning her memory bank, she came up empty. Something nagged in the periphery of her awareness, hanging like a wisp of smoke just out of reach. She punched in Suzie Mason’s number, her best friend from Portland.

  “Does the name Rob Porterfield ring a bell?”

  “He sounds hot.”

  “He is.”

  “Have you gotten laid yet?”

  “Okay, simmer down.”

  “I’m just saying you’re overdue. Have you even been with a man since Joe died?”

  Sari went quiet.

  Suzie said, “That’s what I thought. Listen girlfriend, you have to get back in the saddle or it’ll all knit together.”

  “Okay, okay. Listen, ask around. See if the name rings a bell with anybody. Can you do that for me?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Take care Suzie. I miss you like crazy.”

  After disconnecting, Sari felt oddly alone. Her friends were far away and she had no aunts, uncles or distant cousins. She sent a quick text to Hannah to see how she was doing and another to Alexa, just to stay in touch.

  She set the statue on the counter, laced up her hiking boots, and pulled up her map of vortexes. The answers to the riddle of life were out there somewhere, if only she could find them.

  Later, exhausted and hungry, she showered, changed into black jeans, coral sweater and bead necklace, slipped her swollen feet into sandals, and drove to a local Tex-Mex restaurant where she sat in a corner booth chuckling as she read Rewriting Romance, a sweetly funny and touching novel about a mother and daughter starting over in Florida. She thought of Alexa and Hannah, it could have been about them.

  After settling the bill and not yet ready to go home, she pulled into the parking lot of a local tavern, squared her shoulders, walked in head high, and slipped onto a bar stool. The noisy bar suited her mood. The hefty blond bartender appeared. The name tag Tiffany was pinned onto her red cropped T-shirt. Her ample bosom oozed out from the top and the bottom. Sari ordered a glass of Merlot. As she sipped, a swarthy beer-guzzling customer two seats away offered to buy her another. Tiffany cut him off and asked him to leave.

  “I don’t allow none of that, not unless that’s what you’re here for.” This young woman, barely of legal age, was on the ball.

  She drank slowly, nursing the drink, but eventually the last drop was gone. Not wanting another, she paid the tab, adding a generous tip and slid off the stool. Bone-weary and eager to get into pajamas, she hurried out into the chilly night rummaging in her purse for her car key.

  Her shoulder connected with something hard. She reeled back. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

  “I’m pretty hard to miss. Was a bear chasing you?”

  Warmed by the wine, she burst out laughing.

  “It wasn’t that funny but, hey, I’m flattered.” The vapor lamp over-head cast a yellow glow in the deepening dusk. “You were in the shop today. Sari, right?”

  “Correct. Good memory.”

  “I never forget a beautiful woman.”

  She wondered how many beautiful women he remembered, but she didn’t want to go down that road.

  “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, just feeling my way around.”

  “Then let me welcome you properly, buy you a drink.”

  She tucked her keys away, glancing at him sideways. Rob Porterfield was a lightning storm, dangerous to be around and hellishly exciting. One of those bad boys Suzie liked. She took a deep breath, cautioning herself to take it slow although every nerve tingled with anticipation.

  If Tiffany was surprised to see her back so soon, she gave no sign. Without being asked, she poured another glass of Merlot for Sari and set a Corona beer with lime and a shooter on the bar, greeting Rob by name.

  Sari knew virtually nothing about him except he was a master wood carver and perhaps a master seducer as well. But the attraction was undeniable. She tucked her anxieties away, letting her mind wander toward the future as he talked and laughed. Concentrating on his mustache, she imagined how it would feel on the tender inside of her thigh, how his tongue would feel as her body turned into molten lava.

  The urge to invite Rob back to her place was intense. She sensed his eagerness. But she wasn’t ready. He walked her out to her car.

  “Thanks for the drink,” she said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek as he pressed his lips on hers, his tongue sliding easily into her mouth. She felt her resolve liquefy as his touch brought on a hot flush.

  “I can’t,” she murmured.

  “No rush.” His voice was like the rumble of distant thunder. “I’m not going anywhere.” A coyote howled, followed by another. Again, and with more urgency, their lips pressed together. His hands were on her buttocks, pulling her pelvis against his, grinding into her. She felt his tumescence. They broke away. She slid into the Jeep and turned the key. He smiled as she pulled out.

  In the rearview mirror she watched him return to the bar. A wave of disappointment overtook her. I should have invited him home, she thought ruefully.

  Shaking off regret, she stripped and tumbled into bed alone, wired, frustrated, upset with her cowardice. She’d let a golden opportunity slip away. Hopefully, there would be another.

  CHAPTER 30

  SARI CONKLIN wanted, needed, to understand the man known as Rob Porterfield although she was unable to grasp the reason behind this strange urge. He was like an itch that needed to be scratched. Taking a quick nap in a field of dreams might offer up some insight, but more than likely it wouldn’t. That left two choices: Ask the universe to provide the answers, or ask him directly.

  It would be easy to lose herself in his soulful eyes, but she wanted to stay awake and aware. This exceptionally charismatic man could be a con artist, clever scammer, womanizer, rogue, or thief who robbed women’s purses and stole their hearts.

  It had been an extraordinarily long time since her hormones had sent her rocketing into this kind of emotional turmoil. In fact, she’d never felt this way. She thought she was dead inside, but no, she was alive and, to be honest, enthralled. That night in the parking lot a feather could have pushed her into getting naked with this unknown entity. It was a side of herself she didn’t know existed. Despite her best intention to stop seeing the charlatan, at ten the next morning she walked up the steps of Crystal Light Therapy, standing at the blue door with the glass knob that sometimes refused to open.

  “Have you heard from your daughter?” Sean asked, setting his small treasures at the desk corners, arranging the cards.

  “She had the flu.”

  “So all’s well?”

  She nodded.

  “Please remember to put the question out to the universe, not to me.”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you ready?”

  “I have two issues.”

  “One per session.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Let’s not go there, Sara, okay?”

  She was annoyed that after so many sessions he didn’t know her name. But she knew the door wouldn’t open and she was meant to be here.

  “Early
in your life, a huge burden was placed upon you,” he said. “The secret weighs heavily. You can’t move on until you let it go.”

  Was it a lucky guess? Everybody has secrets—situations they carry around from childhood.

  “Everything you do should be done with peace. That is the best medicine for body, mind, and spirit. It is the most wonderful way to live.”

  As if she didn’t want to.

  “You cannot buy it, you must manufacture it within. Fear comes from the heart, as does love. They are interconnected, so very alike.”

  Was he intuitive or was he following her?

  “The universe is giving you the answer. Just listen.”

  Sari already knew before arriving in Sedona and before meeting Sean and Rob, there was only one possible way to move on with her life: she had to unburden the terrible secret she’d been carrying. Without that she’d never love fully or be at peace with herself. Now, with romance on the horizon, she had to formulate a plan. To accomplish it, she needed answers.

  It was no coincidence that Rob Porterfield might be the one person who could provide them.

  A few days after their unexpected meeting in the parking lot and their drinks at the bar, she went to the woodcarving shop again with the thought of buying belated holiday gifts for Hannah and Alexa. Except for one customer, Native Woodcrafts was empty. Rob whittled what appeared to be a woodpecker. She wore a flowery print skirt, body hugging turquoise sweater, and hiking boots. He glanced up, drinking her in like a thirsty traveler.

  “Welcome,” he said. “May I help you?”

  Sari could think of a dozen ways he could help her: He could peel off her clothes, lay her down on the floor, and take her right there with all the carvings watching their passionate lovemaking. Idly she picked up a few items and replaced them. “I’m looking for gifts for my daughter and granddaughter.”

  His thick eyebrows arched, creasing his brow. “Grandma?”