Like One of the Family. Kimberly Meter Van

      CHAPTER TWO

      HEATH©PARKED©IN©THE©SMALL spot designated for the resort vehicle, and Lora sprang from her seat, eager to get away from Heath and his condemning scowl.

       She went to grab her bag but Heath was already jerking it free from the Jeep, being none too gentle with the expensive luggage. Lora reached for the handle, exasperated. “A little care, please? This probably cost more than what you make in a month.” He shot her a quelling look and she immediately felt bad for the comment, but her temper was in full control of her mouth, and frustration had dissolved whatever portion of empathy and common courtesy she’d possessed before she’d even landed at Charlotte Amalie Airport in St. Thomas.

       “Sorry about that,” she muttered, in an attempt to soften the insult but Heath had already turned his back on her. She could almost see the disgust he felt for her emanating from him in waves with each step that carried him farther away. Fine, be that way, she wanted to shout even knowing she’d been the one to snap first. What was it about Heath Cannon that made her act like a ten-year-old? She’d fired people for less.

      All right, so let’s get this over with. Maybe with any luck she’d have this crisis figured out before the week was out and she could hop another plane back to Chicago before her hair permanently frizzed into an iguana’s nest of knots. As far as Pops went, she couldn’t believe that his mind was deteriorating. He was the smartest man she knew. Likely, his memory gaps were simply a product of the natural aging process. For crying out loud, if she didn’t have her BlackBerry to keep her on track she’d forget plenty of important things, but that didn’t mean she had dementia. Everyone seemed to be pulling a Chicken Little. Chances were that the sky was not actually falling.

       Larimar—named after the agate stone found only in the Caribbean that locals claimed had magical qualities—came into view with its swaying tropical foliage flanking the entrance with bay rum and giant kapok trees creating a green canopy of various shades. Bright wild flowers dotted the underbrush and lizards of all kinds darted away from the approach of human feet.

       She’d thought her pique would insulate her from nostalgia but the minute she crossed the threshold into the airy lobby of Larimar, her high heels clicking sharply on the travertine tile floor, memories drifted from hidden corners like the smell of coconut suntan lotion on the ocean breeze. Lora halted, her eyes closing for just a moment as her Grams floated into her mind’s eye and her beloved voice echoed in Lora’s mind.

       “Little Miss Bell, have you had at least one hour of fun at the beach today?” Grams had asked one day when she found Lora studying instead of doing what every other kid was doing during summer vacation. Grams had gently closed the book, her eyes smiling but faintly serious as she instructed Lora to go act like a teenager for once. “Go get into some trouble, but not too much trouble, mind you. Just enough to make interesting memories to giggle over when you’re an adult. And for land’s sake, get your nose out of those books.”

       Lora had been focused on her grades, not goofing off or finding boyfriends like most of her friends, or twin sisters for that matter. Lindy was a shameless flirt who basked in the adoration of every pair of male eyes that crossed at the sight of her bouncing around in her tiny bikini; Lilah, the younger twin by one minute, had also enjoyed her share of boys clustered around her, though she’d been more carefree about her love life, choosing to float through relationships until the wind took her elsewhere.

      Oh, Grams… Lora took a quiet moment to collect herself, shaking off the memory of her beloved grandmother with effort. Of all things, she missed Grams the most.

       Grams had been the calm in the storm that had become Lora’s life when they were forced to move to Larimar after her father abandoned them. Lora’s mother had been so heartbroken, so lost after her husband split. And then, shortly after they’d arrived in St. John, the cancer diagnosis had followed. It had seemed a colossally bad cosmic joke but it’d been no joke. Her mother had died with little fight. In fact, it had seemed to Lora that her mother had simply given up. For that, Lora found memories of her mother difficult. More so than memories of Grams. At least with Grams, Lora had plenty of great memories to temper the sad ones. Intellectually, Lora knew it wasn’t fair to judge her mother based on the memories of a ten-year-old girl, but she did anyway. Just one more reason Lora was known as the Bitch, she supposed.

       But Grams was gone—the problems facing Larimar were in the here and now and that’s why she’d come.

       Her lids flipped open and she purposefully walked toward the front counter where a dark-skinned woman she didn’t recognize sat in reception.

       “Welcome to—”

       “Not necessary.” She cut the woman’s spiel in half with a wave of her hand, ignoring the startled look at her abruptness. Glancing around, she looked for someone she knew. “My name is Lora Bell. Can you tell me where my grandfather or my sister Lilah is? I need to see them at once.”

       “I know who you are,” the woman said, her voice thick with the local Crucian accent common to the island. Her stare narrowed and the judgment in her expression caused Lora to pause. “You finally come to help Mistah Bell? ’Bout time.”

       “Excuse me?”

       “You heard me. Mistah Bell needed ya and ya too busy to make time for him.”

       She was being schooled by the receptionist? What next? Lora made a mental note to start looking for a replacement right away. “You seem to know a lot about me, but I know very little about you,” Lora said coolly. “What is your name?”

       “Celly,” the woman answered, her chin rising. Her dark brown stare neither flinched or shifted away, and Lora knew this woman felt fairly confident in her position and wouldn’t scare easily. Fabulous. With the luck Lora was having, her grandfather had probably written this Celly into the will. Good gravy. She felt a cloud at her back and her pessimistic attitude certainly wasn’t helping.

       She forced a brief smile. “Can you tell me where to find my grandfather?”

       “Mistah Bell in de back,” the woman answered with a small sniff. “You know your way?”

       Lora ground her teeth, irritated. “Of course. I did grow up here, you know,” she muttered, gripping her luggage handle, then said over her shoulder, “We’ll be talking again soon, I’m sure.”

       “I look forward to it, missy,” Celly called back.

      Oh, I bet you will, she thought blackly. She had a feeling if she didn’t put finding a new receptionist on top of her list, Celly was going to give her an earful that Lora definitely wasn’t in the mood to hear.

       The back terrace was attached to the part of the resort that was reserved for the Bells and afforded a breathtaking view of the ocean. Larimar was a spacious four-plex with access to a secluded private beach via a short walk but the Bells’ section of the resort opened to beachfront property right off the terrace. It’d been Grams’s and Pops’s favorite part about Larimar; they’d often eaten their breakfast of papaya and coconut right there, followed by a quick dip in the water. Grams had been a water dog. Pops had often joked that he’d married a mermaid without her tail.

       There, sitting at his wicker breakfast table, sat Pops, the empty chair opposite him pricking unexpected tears from Lora’s eyes as the loss of Grams hit her hard all over again. Maybe it was because her life was a mess and Grams had always known how to settle her “Little Miss Type A” as she’d lovingly called Lora, or maybe it was because her cycle was near and she was prone to bursts of emotion at the oddest moments, but sadness swamped Lora before she could guard against it. Thankfully, Pops was oblivious and simply grinned his jack-o’-lantern smile and exclaimed with pure pleasure at the sight of her, “There she is! Come here, my sugar bird.” He rose and gathered her into his embrace as if she were still a child and not a grown woman of thirty-two. But God bless him, her grandfather was her lifeline to sanity and she clung to him as if she was afraid to let go. He drew away, his blue eyes brimming with pride and not the least bit unclear—maybe they were all wrong