Down And Out In Flamingo Beach. Marcia King-Gamble

Joya Hamill, that’s for sure.”

      Derek couldn’t help smiling. “Guess I’ve never been interested in trouble.”

      “Something about trouble can be appealing. Any of those babes worth a second glance?”

      Derek surveyed the packed Haul Out where an after-work crowd was winding down. The patrons were primarily a blue- and pink-collar group, the men still in uniforms, name tags on their chest. Some played pool or darts off to the side while women with pumped-up boobs and gold ankle bracelets sat on high banquettes yakking up a storm and checking out would-be prospects.

      “No babes,” Derek said firmly. “Not until I get my own business up and running.”

      “Whatever.”

      They returned to their beers, and Derek indulged in a brief fantasy about a woman at the end of the bar with legs that wouldn’t stop. Unfortunately the Hamill woman kept popping into his head, screwing up his sexy little daydreams.

      He stared out onto the dance floor where a brunette who hadn’t seen thirty in years and a coffee-skinned woman poured into tight capris jiggled everything they had in a desperate booty call. Except, no one was answering.

      “It would be to everyone’s benefit if you could convince the granddaughter to spruce up that quilt shop,” Preston said, breaking into his thoughts. “I can’t think of anything worse than having Joya’s the only place on the Row not renovated. The place has such potential and the bank’s practically giving money away with those interest-free loans plus a delayed period to pay back. It would be more money in our pockets, and I’d have the prestige of saying my firm had the monopoly of fixing up all the buildings on the Row.”

      Derek took a long pull on his beer. “True, and I’ve already put it out there. I mentioned that the centennial celebrations are bound to draw strangers to Flamingo Beach. Joya’s not stupid; she has to know it’s going to attract customers with spending power.”

      “And she said?”

      “That she’d talk to her grandmother when she gets out of the hospital. You’ve got a bunch of jobs lined up so this one shouldn’t make that big a difference.”

      Preston shrugged. “Call it pride or just the desire to have my stamp on the entire Row. If Granny J waits until the last minute to make up her mind we might be booked.”

      “Good point.”

      In some ways Derek hoped the old lady did just that. He didn’t relish spending one more minute than he had to around the Hamill woman. The way she’d looked at him with those huge gray eyes had made him feel like yesterday’s leftovers.

      Preston shoved a handful of peanuts in his mouth and chased them down with beer. “Aren’t your great-grandmother and the old lady friends? Can’t you ask Belle for help?”

      “I suppose so,” Derek answered halfheartedly. He set down the empty beer bottle and reached for his wallet. “I gotta go. Gotta start work on my second job.”

      “This is on me,” Preston said, stopping Derek before he could slap down a twenty. “It’s your tab the next time around. Do you ever give yourself a break?”

      “Not until Nana’s house is finished. It might not look like much now, but by the time I’m done with it…” Derek placed curled fingers to his lips and kissed them. “See you tomorrow, Preston.”

      “I’ll be there the usual time. Six.”

      Derek had his hands wrapped around the doorknob when Nana Belle’s throaty voice reached him.

      “Derek?” she called. “Is that you, boy?”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      It never ceased to amaze him that his wheelchair-bound great-grandmother, with her failing eyesight and poor hearing, knew almost to the second when he came home.

      He opened the front door, left his muddy construction boots at the entrance and picked his way around drywall, heading toward the back of the house where Nana Belle lived.

      The old lady spent most of her days seated in an overstuffed chair looking out at the water and smoking. Derek abhorred the habit, but figured that given Nana was almost one hundred years old and it hadn’t killed her, who was he to say anything?

      Nana Belle occupied the only room with an unobstructed view of the water. All of the other rooms had the boardwalk in between. Given the kind of life Nana had had, she deserved that one perk. Now she spent most of her day people-watching.

      “How was your day, Nana Belle?” Derek asked dutifully kissing the old lady’s weathered cheek. “Did you give Mari hell?”

      Nana Belle wrinkled her nose and stuck out her lip. “I don’t give anyone hell. Life’s too damn short for that.” She sniffed loudly. “You smell of beer. Shame on you. My Gideon never touched the stuff.”

      Gideon was Nana’s third husband. She’d outlived five so far. Now with failing eyesight and bad hearing, Nana’s olfactory senses had heightened. Derek thought she was amazing for a woman who’d seen almost an entire century go by.

      Nana’s aide, a long-suffering widow called Mari, took care of her. The two women fought constantly, usually because Nana was not eating and preferred to smoke. Nana Belle often told Mari to take a hike, and not in such pleasant terms.

      The constant bickering made the old lady feel alive and important. She actually liked her aide, it was being dependent she hated, and it killed her not to be mobile and that she needed help to be bathed and dressed.

      “How are the party plans coming?” Derek called to Mari, who was in another room.

      When he’d left at the crack of dawn, the two women had been arguing over who would be on Nana’s invitation list.

      “I don’t want no party,” Nana said, spitting out her bridgework that she claimed was more painful than helpful. Her hollow jaws worked as if she was chewing on catfish.

      “Done deal, Nana. You’re getting a party whether you want one or not.”

      The old lady snorted. Deep down, his great-grandmother was very excited about her birthday party and was an active participant in selecting who was to be on the invitation list. It was her day and as far as Derek was concerned, she could invite the entire community. How many people could say they’d lived to see as many changes as she had? How many oldest living residents of Flamingo Beach were there?

      It was going to be a huge event, and Derek thought about reserving the ballroom of the new Flamingo Beach Resort and Spa, since even Mayor Solomon Rabinowitz planned on attending. Tre Monroe, Warp’s premiere radio personality was pre-recording an interview with Nana which he planned on airing on her birthday. That was another reason Derek needed to get these renovations done.

      Word had gotten out about how big this event was. Now everyone and his dog were trying to wangle an invitation. Since the party was the same week as the centennial celebrations, T-shirts with the original map of Flamingo Beach with an X where Nana’s house was located were already being sold. Nana Belle’s party would go down in history and the house needed to look good.

      Derek was pulling out all the stops and funding the party with money from his stock options. He didn’t give a rat’s butt about the tax implications. Nana Belle had given birth to twelve children, the results of three of her five marriages. She had fifty grandchildren, thirty-eight of whom were still alive, and twelve great-grandchildren. But Derek was the only one who’d volunteered to pay for the party. Without Nana he would not be where he was today.

      So, he was determined that everything would be perfect, from the reserved parking space at the brand-new resort, should he decide to hold the event there, to the flowers provided by All About Flowers. The way Derek had it figured, the guest list would top out at one thousand people. But Nana had earned that kind of tribute.

      Had it not been for her he would not have seen a college door. Somehow his