A Bella Flora Christmas by Wendy Wax

Author:Wendy Wax
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: InterMix
Published: 2017-11-07T05:00:00+00:00

Seven

Sydney, Thomas, and Andrew are in the salon watching football the next afternoon. My mother and Will have gone for a walk on the beach. I’m in the kitchen making a turkey sandwich for Dustin. My dad wanders in to get a beer, and I try once more to get information about Bella Flora’s mystery tenant.

I had a dream early this morning just before Dustin and Max appeared at the side of my bed, that it was Daniel and Tonja who’d rented it simply to force me out. A couple of Christmases ago when she found out, before we did, that Daniel had bought Bella Flora, she threatened to gut her and put an indoor lap pool in the salon. She was not a happy camper when it turned out he’d bought it for Dustin and me. In my heart I believe that she’d drop a bomb on it if she could. Or take it apart brick by brick if she had the time. The only reason she mostly controlled herself on the phone yesterday is that she wants Dustin in the movie and has not yet achieved her goal.

“I’ll make you a sandwich if you just tell me that it’s not Tonja or Daniel?”

“I’d be glad to have the sandwich. But I actually don’t know the name of the tenant. The rental was set up through a company that’s owned by another company. I couldn’t find anything about either of them online.”

“Doesn’t that seem like a lot of trouble to go to unless you’re extremely wealthy or famous or both?”

“Well, anyone who could pay half a million up front and another quarter to exercise the second six-month option has money. But it could be anybody who’s looking for privacy. A corporate raider. A mafioso. A . . .” He shrugged. “We don’t know because they don’t want us to. But I think it’s safe to assume they aren’t going to be holding keg parties or tearing the place apart.”

“Why not? It could be some trust fund baby or something.” I pull out the ketchup and mayonnaise to make a Thousand Island dressing to smear on the bread.

“No offense to Bella Flora or the gorgeous ground she sits on,” my dad says, helping himself to a handful of chips. “But someone young with that kind of disposable income isn’t likely to choose this particular house in this particular location.”

It’s true that the population of St. Petersburg and St. Pete Beach, on which Pass-a-Grille sits, does tend to skew older than, say, the panhandle or Daytona Beach or Key West. The standing joke is that if you leave a glass of water out, someone will put their false teeth in it.

“You need to just accept this rental opportunity as the godsend it is. The money’s sitting in escrow and will be transferred into your account at 12:01 a.m. January second.” He pulls out a jar of pickles and a couple of paper plates. He’s gotten a little handier in the kitchen since he moved into a place of his own.

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