“Della! How about we grab some drinks and discuss your music career?” he calls out, proving the fact that his relationship attention span can make a goldfish look committed. But I already knew that.
“Really?” Della lights up as if someone just offered her a recording contract. “Do you want to hear some of my original stuff?”
And just like that, they wander off together, two freshly wounded souls bonding over artistic dreams, romantic disappointment, and the promise of frozen cocktails strong enough to convince them this is a good idea.
A rooster watches them go with interest, clearly filing the moment away for the island gossip network.
Bertha materializes beside me, already primed to do some damage control and eviscerate someone in the same breath. Most likely me.
“I suppose I owe you an apology,” she begins with a gracious tone, seemingly admitting fault while simultaneously preparing to assign blame elsewhere.
“An apology?” I inch back. “From you? Should I alert the local news media?”
She waves me off. “Of course, if you’d been more organized from the start, this entire wedding wouldn’t have been such a disaster,” she continues, incapable of delivering gratitude without including personal improvement suggestions. “But I suppose even poor judgment can lead to adequate results occasionally.”
“Your emotional support means everything to me, Bertha.” I don’t know what she said, and I certainly don’t understand what I said either.
A heavy sigh expels from her. “You’ll always be my favorite ex-daughter-in-law, which admittedly isn’t saying much since you’re the only one, but still.”
I watch her walk away, clearly satisfied, leaving me to decide whether I’ve just been praised or politely insulted.
Melanie trots this way, glowering at me—her go-to expression where yours truly is involved.
“This is exactly the chaos that makes resort management impossible,” she grumbles. “First murders, then investigations, now arrests at a wedding. An arrest of the BRIDE! How are we supposed to maintain proper resort protocols when guests keep getting handcuffed during reception activities?”
“Maybe we should add criminal apprehension to the guest services menu,” I suggest while holding back a smile.
“And another thing?—”
“Clamp it, Melanie,” Ruby and Lani say in unison as they show up on the scene.
“We want to hear more about that steamy kiss we witnessed on the beach,” Ruby says, wiggling her shoulders as she says it.
Lani nods. “We demand romantic details over a criminal justice discussion.”
Spam materializes on the nearest table as if he, too, is interested in romantic updates based on his attentive positioning and superior eavesdropping capabilities.
Before I can respond to demands for intimate intel, I spot Halea heading toward the resort entrance with a purposeful stride like she’s intent on leaving before any more awkward conversations about murder accusations can resume.
“Excuse me,” I call out, deciding that friendly resolutions take priority over sharing details about kisses with friends who witnessed everything anyway. But the woman doesn’t bother stopping. “Halea! Wait!” I quickly catch up with her before she can disappear into the night.
She turns my way with a weary look that tells me everything I need to know about how she feels.
“I really enjoyed getting to know you,” I begin with genuine warmth, “and I’m sorry I accused you of being a cold-blooded killer during your own successfully coordinated wedding reception.” I wince a little because this couldgo a few different ways, and I don’t look so good with a black eye.
“Well, I’ve been called worse things by people with less interesting investigation techniques,” she says with humor that suggests she’s not really taking the murder accusation personally. “Besides, your detective work was actually pretty impressive for someone without a badge.” She gives a warm smile to back up her claim.
“Thank you,” I say, just as Ruby and Lani catch up to our conversation, unwilling to miss friendship resolution or potential group bonding opportunities at the Coconut Cove Paradise Resort.
“We wish you could hang out at the resort more often,” Ruby says, happy to have found someone worth including in our tropical social circle.
“Well, I don’t have any jobs lined up for the foreseeable future,” Halea admits. “What I did have just fell through. It’s been a hard season. I was sort of hoping Candy would have kick-started my career again with all that social media exposure and influencer networking opportunities.”
“Instead, she kick-started a murder investigation and got herself arrested,” Lani says, pointing out the irony.
A thought hits me like a tropical lightning bolt. “How would you feel about a position at the front desk of the resort?”
Halea’s expression shifts from resigned disappointment to interested curiosity. “Really?”
