No Sunshine When She's Gone by Kate Angell Read Free Book Online Page B

Trace.”
    Jill nodded. “Ditto that.”
    They showered in their separate rooms, then ended up sleeping longer than they’d planned. Ninety minutes later, they met again in the upstairs hallway. “I could use a cup of coffee,” said Carrie. “Sharon has a Keurig in the kitchen.”
    They found their way downstairs. Carrie brewed two mugs of summer-sweet raspberry before they started on their salad. The flavored coffee tasted light and fruity. Carrie next removed their produce from the refrigerator and Jill washed the fruits and vegetables.
    Sharon Cates had thoughtfully set out a glass serving bowl on the butcher block island, along with knives and a melon baller. The friends became creative. Hand-torn romaine soon lined the bottom of the bowl, followed by a layer of diced red apples. Jill halved the cantaloupe and scooped mini–melon balls. Carrie shaved a cucumber so thin, Jill could see through the slices.
    Two diced bell peppers came next, one green and one yellow. Jill went on to peel an orange, then carefully chopped the sections into smaller bites. Fresh basil followed, cut into ribbons. Chopped pecans topped layers of blueberries and strawberries. The zest and juice of a lime was added last.
    Jill popped a leftover blueberry in her mouth and admired their salad. “There’s something for everyone,” she said. “Cormet’s Deli back home in Philly sold a ton of these salads. None of the other employees liked to layer, so I had job security as a kid.”
    Carrie leaned her hip against the island counter and grew thoughtful. “You were fourteen and gutsy,” she said. “You snuck in the backdoor of the deli, picked up a knife, and started chopping carrots, without anyone noticing. Mr. Cormet finally saw you, and was amazed at how fast you worked.”
    “I begged for a job with my whole heart,” Jill recalled. “I told Mr. Cormet I was sixteen. He stared me down, but never questioned my age. The deli was my lifeline back then. Mr. Cornet paid me cash. And his wife sent home leftovers, which my mom appreciated.”
    Jill crossed to the main counter near the sink and searched several drawers before she found a roll of clear Saran Wrap. Covering the salad, she placed it back in the refrigerator. She finished off her coffee, feeling relaxed and ready to face the evening ahead.
    She was excited to meet their hosts. Trace had the connections and clout to bring the Rogues to Barefoot William. Shaye was also known for her strong business ethic. She kept Barefoot William in the black. They were a power couple.
    Carrie tapped her watch, one with an oversize face and roman numerals on a red leather band. “It’s almost six. We’d better get a move on. We need to change clothes, then locate their beach house. Neither of us is good with directions.”
    Somehow they managed to be punctual despite the fact that Carrie changed clothes twice and Jill missed a turnoff. Carrie had had a tough time interpreting Florida casual and it took her thirty minutes before she tucked a blue-and-white nautical striped top into a pair of navy capris. Navy canvas wedges with bold white stars complemented her red toenail polish. Her feet looked very patriotic.
    On the hour, Jill parked her Triumph in the Saunders’s driveway. Carrie had held the salad bowl on her lap during their drive; she’d reminded Jill with every passing block not to hit a bump or pothole. She didn’t want to jar the salad.
    Jill had accidentally turned right instead of left on Pink Shell Lane, and was forced to make a U-turn. Several cars had honked when she’d blocked traffic. Still, they’d arrived safely with the salad layers intact. That was all that mattered.
    Sliding from her sports car, she looked around. The sun was close to setting; the last of the daylight struggled to survive. The beach house was barely visible through the foliage. What she did see was amazing; two stories of glass and steel peeked between the palms.
    A breeze off the Gulf flirted with