“So,” I say, “I’m assuming it’d be too much to ask that we just pretend this fire alarm incident never happened, right?”
“You assume correctly,” Beau says, clearly amused. “I have to fill out paperwork about incidents like this.”
“Which I definitely understand. But as far as Seaside Oasis goes, what are the chances your dad could just…not hear about it?”
“Slim to none. Tristan is running things, but Dad still wants to be kept in the loop, and if I know him, he’ll ask about your grandma at their weekly meeting. You’re worried she’s going to be kicked out?”
I nod.
“Whichyoudon’t want to happen, orshedoesn’t want to happen?”
“Neither of us do. For reasons I will never fully understand, she wants to stay on Sunset Harbor until she dies. And, much as she’d like to be fully independent until she keels over, she’s just not. And her mobility will only get worse.”
He stops and turns to face me. “If she wants to stay here so much, why is she doing everything in her power to get kicked out?”
I shrug. “Because Grams is who she is through and through. You can’t mistake her antics for not wanting to be here.”
He nods and takes a seat on the wooden bench nearby. “In the grand scheme of things, pulling a fire alarm is pretty mild.”
I sit down, stealing a glance at him. It’s hard to believe Beau was a cop in Miami before he came back to Sunset Harbor. I haven’t been to Miami since I was a kid, but I know enoughabout what crime is like in LA to guess his days there looked pretty different from his days here. “What was it like? In Miami?”
His gaze darts to me, then away again. “Intense.”
I toy with asking follow-up questions, but he talks before I can decide on one—and part of me wonders if it’s on purpose.
“So, how did your talk go? Has she cooled down enough to regret her decision?”
“Um…I wouldn’t go quite that far. But Ihavebeen authorized to apologize on her behalf.”
“As her official PR spokesperson.”
“Exactly. She’s also authorized me to do everything in my power to make sure she can stay here. So, Officer Palmer. Can you help a poor old lady out?”
He laughs and reaches his arm along the back of the bench, angling himself toward me. “Poor old lady? That’s quite the stretch, Gemma. If this is a demonstration of your PR skills…” He cocks a brow at me.
I scoff and turn toward him, taking the bait. “Okay. How about this? Seaside OasisneedsVirginia Sawyer.”
“Wow. You took a stretch and turned it into full-on contortion. You’ve got my attention, though. In what way does Seaside Oasis need a hooligan like Virginia Sawyer?”
“Did you know that boredom in older adults is associated with both cognitive declineandhigher rates of depression?” Thank you, airplane magazine I read when I couldn’t sleep on the red-eye flight here.
Beau’s eyes twinkle. “And you think Virginia Sawyer is the antidote to that?”
“Like it or not, she keeps things interesting foreveryonehere.”
Beau’s mouth stretches in an appreciative smile as his eyes run over my face. “Not bad, Gemma. Not bad.”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling extremely self-satisfied for someonewho just got complimented by a man with no experience at all in PR. “So, what can I do to make sure Grams gets to stay?”
Beau’s smile morphs into a thoughtful frown. His eyes are still on me, though. He’s not convinced yet.
“Unless, of course, you don’thavethat sort of pull,” I say, trying a new angle as I put out a finger in case the butterfly fluttering nearby decides to humor me. It doesn’t.
Beau’s mouth quirks. “Are you trying to provoke me?”
“Is it working?”
He laughs. “Yeah. It kind of is. First of all, Idohave the pull…”
