That Summer at the Shore

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“This isn’t a date. It’s business.”

Zack seemed to hesitate. Was he regretting his invitation? “Then how about coming to the office?” he suggested. “There’s a parking lot for employees and it will have extra space. We can walk to the restaurant, or take one of the golf carts.”

He was likely worried that she’d show up in Granddad’s battered pickup and park by the Mercedes, BMWs and Acuras belonging to his customers. God forbid she get dust on one of them.

It was tempting to yank his chain by doing the opposite to what he expected. Granddad had left her a beautifully maintained 1940s-era Jaguar stored in the barn. Zack would probably love to see it in his customer lot, not tucked out of sight. She’d have to consider whether it was worth getting the battery charged...or was it so old it had to be cranked? Her knowledge of classic vehicles was woefully lacking.

“I’d be delighted to come to the office,” she said, which seemed to make him suspicious.

With a small nod, he got into his car. Before he turned onto the paved road, she saw him halt and stare back at her, no doubt evaluating how he’d handled the encounter and what his next move would be. Too bad. She held the trump card because no one could force her to sell.

The next few days Jamie determinedly put Zack and their upcoming dinner meeting out of her mind. Her success at the Peterson Gallery was great incentive to focus even harder on her silver casting. She sketched several designs between customers during the day, and made good progress on the casting and finishing work at night before going to bed.

Brad Denning dropped by the produce stand every afternoon. He was comfortable company. At rare moments he spoke of his deployment overseas, mostly relating stories about the children he’d met. Yet from the shadows in his eyes, Jamie knew he had far darker memories he could have recounted. He usually walked back to the resort on his own steam, only once letting her give him a ride to the front gate.

When Thursday came, Jamie woke up and realized she hadn’t checked Granddad’s old Jaguar to see if it was running. It was just as well, since the Jag wouldn’t operate the same as modern cars and she’d look ridiculous driving into Mar Vista, jerking and stalling. Her Honda would have to do.

At six-thirty that evening, she dressed in a simple skirt and blouse. For a minute she examined herself in the mirror. Her outfit wasn’t the height of fashion, which was fine. The choice of a red blouse was deliberate; red was supposed to be a “power” color.

It felt odd driving through the gates of the resort. She’d spent her childhood summers on the uninhabited point sticking into the ocean, yet Zack Denning had managed to give Mar Vista the air of having been there for decades, instead of months. Then she hit a snag. She had no idea where the office was and there were no directions to the employee parking lot, just discreet signs for guest registration. In exasperation she finally asked one of the valet-parking attendants how to get to the business office. He gave her directions and she got there shortly past seven.

“My apologies for being late,” she told Zack as he waited by the office door.

He wore a nicely fitted sports jacket, and she mused idly how many of his guests were single women on the hunt for a husband. He’d be a decent catch provided they didn’t object to his love affair with Mar Vista.

“Not a problem.”

Jamie decided it was best to keep him on the defensive. “Your employees must learn by osmosis how to find their parking area, since it isn’t marked.”

“I should have given you directions.”

“What if FedEx has to make a delivery? Or someone else? Must they call and get directions?”

“Delivery folks have always found us.”

“Maybe not,” she countered. “Some of them could be wandering the salt flats, thin with hunger, thinking the office is a figment of the imagination.”

His expression was so pleased that she wondered if he was up to something. “You might be right.” He led the way to a golf cart, escorting her into the passenger’s seat and settling behind the wheel. It was extremely quiet when he turned the key, and she figured it had to be electric. He headed away from the buildings, saying, “I’ll give you a quick tour before dinner. That way you’ll know where everything is located, so you won’t get lost again.”

They glided around the golf course as he pointed out various features.

“Trade magazines are predicting the course will eventually receive a top-one-hundred ranking,” Zack enthused. “We went for a more natural type of construction, with only certain sections manicured. It plays just over eight thousand yards, and our ninth hole rivals the sixteenth at Cypress Point in Pebble Beach.”

Jamie understood. Her father was a golfer and had played a number of the top courses in America and Scotland, so she recognized that Mar Vista’s design was top-notch. Not that her dad could afford to golf at Mar Vista. The family had gotten together on a Father’s Day gift for a weekend at Pebble Beach four years ago, but it was plain that Zack’s resort was equally exclusive, and extravagantly expensive.

Zack directed the cart toward the buildings. But he didn’t stop; he drove on to an airstrip a mile away, then to a series of paddocks and horse stables. Lately she’d seen more riders around, so she’d suspected he had stables. Granddad hadn’t cared if people used his land as long as they respected his privacy and didn’t litter, so the area was already a popular location for horseback riding.

Next Zack showed her a display of shiny bicycles for the energetically inclined. Afterward they went down a winding road to a private marina where guests could take kayaks or sailboats out into the cove, or moor their private yachts.

“I’ve tried to include a wide variety of activities for my guests,” he said as they drove back. “All the rooms have a view, and we have plenty of carts for transportation, with frequent recharging stations around the resort. That’s a big improvement on combustion engines running everywhere.”

Jamie checked her watch. More than an hour had passed since she’d arrived—Zack’s “quick tour” was anything but. And it had the flavor of something he’d planned in order to prove the resort was of greater importance than her trailer and fruit stand. That was why her comments concerning the difficulty getting to the office had pleased him; they’d given him an excuse to take her all over his resort. She took a deep breath, trying to contain her frustration.

They approached a building not far from the office. At last. It had been a busy day, and aside from everything else, she was hungry. She climbed out and Zack led her through doors to an elegant lounge. There was a tasteful bar, but no sign of a restaurant. A side room had mahogany billiard tables with the air of a fine English country manor.

They went up a hallway...again no restaurant, only numbered doors. Zack stopped at one and opened it with an electronic card key.

“I thought you’d like to see one of our guest rooms.”

That clinched it; he wouldn’t have had the card key in his pocket unless he’d planned his tour.

Temper simmering, Jamie entered the well-appointed suite. It oozed luxury and had a private deck overlooking the cove. As for the bathroom, it was enormous, with numerous plush towels flanking a separate shower and bathtub. She’d visited nice hotels with her ex-husband, but nothing like this.

The reminder of Tim soured her mood further. Apparently, her ex had been boasting that he’d reached a point in his career where he could pay for the very best on business trips. She hadn’t understood why people from her old life kept bringing him up until Caylie Browning confessed that Tim was asking them to mention him to her. Since then Jamie had cut off contact with all of their mutual friends. Whatever Tim’s game, she wasn’t playing.

In the hallway, Zack took her arm. “I think you’ll be impressed with the business center in the reception building. We’ll go there next. You could virtually run an international corporation from our facilities. We also have pools, one of them heated, saunas that—”

Jamie yanked free. “You are an incredible jerk, Zack Denning. You invite me to dinner to discuss a business proposition that I’m not interested in, and instead you drag me all over your lavish resort to try and awe me into submission. No wonder you wanted to pick me up—you were going to keep me here at your mercy. But it wouldn’t have worked. I’d have walked home rather than put up with this nonsense.”

The bartender stared, but Jamie didn’t care. She stormed out of the building, stopping only to get her bearings.

Zack caught up with her. “I’m sorry you see it that way,” he said, his polished exterior obviously ruffled. “We can go to the restaurant now.”

“Why do public-relations people believe that sort of thing works?” she asked incredulously. “You’re not saying you’re sorry for being a jackass. You’re saying you’re sorry I see your behavior a certain way—implying that I’m seeing it the wrong way. That just makes people madder. You really don’t get how rude you’ve been, do you?”

“I was simply—”

“Rude,” Jamie repeated. She stalked toward the employee parking lot, with Zack following.

“Look, I apologize.”

“Forget it. You can’t impress me with the sixty unique offerings on the menu or caviar that drips from crackers or rare French wines. I don’t want cheese specially flown in from some village in Tuscany or olives soaked in two-hundred-year-old brandy or whatever absurdity is currently a fad of the rich and bored. I’m done, with you and this place.”

Her furious voice seemed to catch more than one ear. In the employee lot, out of view from the guest areas, several staff members quit chatting among themselves and hurriedly ducked into their cars.

“Please, Ms. Conroe...Jamie,” Zack said. “We’ll go straight to the restaurant.”

Jamie groped for her car key and thrust it into the lock. “Oh, sure, with a detour past twelve more features of your precious resort.”

“I assure you—”

“Don’t bother. I refuse to sell my land, so there’s no point in us even talking, much less eating together. It’s mine and you’ll have to live with that.”

“Be reasonable,” he said through gritted teeth. “You run a seasonal fruit stand. This is a high-end resort. I can make it worthwhile. If you insist on keeping the property, I’ll buy you a piece of land on the highway and move the stand there, so at least the beachside area will be visually appealing to my guests. And selling your product on the main road would increase your profits. Or I could pay for better signs and an attractive structure on your present site.”

“What part of no don’t you get?” Jamie snapped. She slid inside and slammed the car door. She drove out, senses on alert; angry drivers were often careless drivers and she didn’t need the owner of a Mercedes blaming her for a dented fender.

The sun was bidding a glorious farewell to the day as she pulled into the garage. Fortunately, she had a large salad prepared from her leftover produce. She added a hard-boiled egg and grilled chicken and took it to the porch to eat and watch the sky.

The gall of the guy.

Jamie stabbed a spinach leaf, only to drop her fork in disgust.

The one positive was her speech to Zack, declaring she’d never sell, which had been the entire point of going to Mar Vista in the first place. Her jangled nerves relaxed. She’d wanted him to understand the land was hers, no matter what, and she’d said it in no uncertain terms and loud enough that some of his employees had heard it, too.

Mission accomplished.

She leaned back in her chair and began eating again, her good humor restored. It had cost her more than two hours, but was worth every minute.

CHAPTER FIVE

KIM SIGNED THE last letter her assistant had given her, tossed the pen aside and gazed through the window at her view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

It was noon on a Friday and she was done for the week. Naturally, there was always something she could do, but lately she’d scaled back her workload, handing portions off to her junior partners. There had to be an advantage to having her own firm, such as reducing her hours to a reasonable number. It would be tough to meet anyone and get married while working a ninety-hour week, much less have children. And even if she didn’t ever have a family, what was the point if all her tombstone said was that she’d had a prominent law career?