Beach Winds by Grace Greene

did.
    “ What about the almost empty bedroom? I’m thinking of setting it up like a study or something. Staging, you know. Marketability is mostly in the staging.”
    Staging. Faking. It all came down to that with women. He walked away without a word. She followed.
    “We should save the kitchen until I can move everything out of the way, and I can’t stay to help today.”
    “ Okay.”
    “ I have a lunch appointment.”
    “ Okay.” He started moving the few items toward the door.
    “ Unavoidable, I’m sorry to say.” She blocked the doorway.
    “ No problem.” He waited for her to move and she did.
    “ My mother. She called this morning.”
    Did she actually gulp? Like they wrote in books? He thought she had.
    “She’s coming to visit. Not to the house. I made sure of that.”
    H e was getting interested despite himself. Fran had family problems, too? He threw out some feelers. “You can bring her here. I’ll stay out of the way. I can skip today if that’s the problem.”
    Her already pale face paled still further. Her hand gripped the doorframe. “No. Lunch is enough.” She looked away. “I’ll get out of your way. I’ll be leaving shortly.”
    She looked in the mirror by the door and said, “I hope I look all right.”
    Was she expecting an answer? Apparently, no, because she went on, “I didn’t bring much with me. I’m running out of decent clothing.”
    She was dressed in the simple kind of clothes that you knew cost a mint and where dressed down was still dressed up. It looked good on her, but not any better than regular clothes would look. She was slender and on the shorter end of tall, and with that face she’d look good in anything, except she was so tightly wound it spoiled the picture.
    She tugged on her sweater and put her coat over her arm. “I should go now.”
    “ Have fun.” What more did she want from him?
    “ Right.”
    He knew what she wanted—an excuse not to go. Illness? Accident, maybe. Even a minor earthquake would do. He couldn ’t give her any of them. She was a grown woman. If she had problems, it was up to her to solve them. But then it slipped out.
    “ Want to borrow my bike?”
    Her face went blank, and then suddenly laugh lines bloomed at the corners of her eyes. She laughed out loud. She clutched her middle and then put her hands to her cheeks. “I can see Mother’s face!” Carefully, she dabbed at her eyes.
    “ Thank you, Brian. Maybe next time I’ll take you up on that. See you later.”
    He waited until she was gone, but as soon as the door closed behind her, he returned her smile. It had been hard not to laugh with her. Her face had changed from attractive to…to compelling? As if the tension had washed away leaving something special in its wake. He returned to painting, but with a lighter spirit. It struck him that he ’d done a good deed and, in the end, unaware, Fran had returned the favor.

     
     
     
    Chapter Five
     
     
    It was every bit as grim as she feared.
    She was grateful to Brian for the moment of laughter he’d given her. She told herself that if she got too nervous, she’d imagine herself straddling that bike.
    Laurel walked in like an empress. Frannie watched as her mother spoke to the hostess who then escorted her to the table. She fought the impulse to rise and curtsey.
    She cleared her throat. “You look well, Mother.”
    “ I am well.” She gave her daughter a long look and then capped it with a smile. “You look different somehow.” She managed to seat herself and pull in her chair. “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
    The waitress stood by the table.
    “We should probably order first.”
    “ Whatever you wish, sweetheart.”
    “ A salad. A garden salad. Oil and vinegar dressing.”
    Laurel placed her order. Frannie listened, wishing she could be as cool. It was one of the many traits she hadn’t inherited.
    After the waitress left, Laurel repeated the question, “Tell me what you’ve been doing.”
    “ I’m