Page 58 of Island Girl

Then Crocker nodded slowly. “Good.”

“Good?” She'd expected more. Questions, at least. Maybe disappointment.

“You've been living in a shoebox above a bar. You deserve better.” Crocker's voice was gruff, but his eyes had softened. “French doors to the beach, I hope?”

“How did you know?”

“Gregory Harrison. I know the place. Knew his wife too, years ago. She used to come in for chowder.” He shook his head. “That bungalow's been sitting empty too long. It needs someone like you.”

Justin watched her with an expression she couldn't quite read. “You're still working here, though? Still playing?”

“Of course. Nothing's changing except where I sleep.” She met his eyes. “This place is home. That's not going anywhere.”

Something in his face relaxed. “Good. Because I'm not training another bartender.”

“You barely trained me.”

“Exactly. I'm not doing it again.”

Merritt laughed, the tension in her chest finally releasing. She glanced across the room at her father, who was watching from his table. He gave her a small nod. Proud. Approving.

She'd done it. She'd told them. And the world hadn't collapsed.

Later, as the bar emptied and the string lights cast their soft glow across the room, Richard pulled Merritt into a hug.

“I'm ready,” he said.

“Ready for what?”

“To meet Gregory. To talk about buying that bungalow.” He pulled back and looked at her. “You've built something real here, Merritt. Something worth protecting. I want to help you protect it.”

Paula caught Merritt's eye and smiled.

“I'll set up a meeting for tomorrow,” she said. “Gregory will be thrilled.”

CHAPTER 18

They arrived at Seaside Gardens just after ten the next morning.

Paula had arranged everything. She'd called Gregory the night before, made sure he was feeling up to visitors, scheduled the meeting for when he'd be sharpest. “He's best earlier in the day,” she'd explained. “By late afternoon, he tires out. But catch him early, and he's as quick as anyone.”

Merritt barely slept the night before, her mind spinning with everything that was happening. Her father was here. He'd seen the bungalow, met Justin and Crocker, watched her play. And now he was about to meet Gregory and talk about buying a house.

It still didn't feel real.

Merritt parked in the visitor lot and cut the engine. For a moment, they sat in silence, looking at the low, sprawling building with its wide verandas and rocking chairs and bird feeders hanging from every available branch.

Paula pulled up next to their car and joined them.

“Nice place,” Richard said. “Looks more like a resort than a nursing home.”

“That's the idea,” Paula said. “Gregory was resistant at first. Didn't want to leave the bungalow. But once he saw the bird feeders, he started to come around.”

“Birds matter to him.”

“More than almost anything.” Paula opened her door. “Come on. He's waiting.”

They walked through the lobby together, past the reception desk and down a long hallway lined with photographs of the island. Merritt had been here before, but it felt different today. More significant. Like everything that happened in the next hour would shape the rest of her life.