No Sunshine When She's Gone by Kate Angell

the hem of her lavender sundress with a narrow, turquoise necklace strap. The dress was an extravagance for her, but Carrie had insisted she buy it. Feminine and flirty wasn’t Jill’s usual style, but the sundress updated her wardrobe. She accented with arm candy, the more bangles the better. She wore ten bracelets that glistened aqua, red, and champagne in the twilight.
    “This place is incredible,” said Carrie as she scooted from the car. She held the glass bowl to her chest; her eyes were wide. “Big bucks went into building this home.”
    Jill nodded her agreement. The back of the house faced the street, the front stared at the ocean. They followed a blue pebbled path through the formal garden, taking time to appreciate their surroundings. An ancient banyan tree spread its branches across much of the grounds, providing shade. Topiaries populated the yard, shaped as seagulls, pelicans, and flamingos. Plants and flowers exploded with color from exotic birds of paradise and purple parrot tulips, to beach sunflowers and butterfly weed. The exotic floral scents mixed with the salt air.
    Jill was so engrossed with the scenery that she stubbed her toe on the cement base of a decorative fountain where a dolphin spouted water. Additional beads broke from her right disc sandal. She scooped them up, slipped them in the side pocket on her skirt. She was glad she hadn’t been carrying the salad. She’d have dumped it on the dolphin.
    The path soon connected to a wide, wooden plank walkway that curved toward the main door. The windows reflected the coppery glow of the sunset. King Midas could live here, Jill mused, awed by the home and the coastal beauty. The scent of charcoal snuck around the corner of the house. Grilling would soon begin. She was hungry.
    The door opened before she could ring the bell. A woman with curly blond hair and a warm smile welcomed them. She wore a yellow tank top and cutoff jeans. Her feet were bare. “Jill and Carrie, I presume,” she said, shaking their hands, and then motioning them inside. “I’m Shaye. So glad you could join Trace and me for supper. James Lawless speaks so highly of you.”
    “We’re excited to be here,” said Carrie.
    “We’ll be calling Barefoot William home for the next year,” added Jill.
    Shaye took the salad bowl from Carrie. “You’ll love our town,” she said. “I travel with Trace on occasion, and whether we’re away for a day or a week, I can’t wait to get back to the beach. I will always have sand between my toes.”
    She led them into an enormous foyer. Two glass-enclosed staircases rose on either side of the entrance hall, connecting to the second story landing area with a wide balcony. The cream marble floor was richly polished.
    “You have a beautiful home,” Jill complimented as she and Carrie followed Shaye down a long hallway.
    “The house was a wedding gift from my brother Aidan,” she said easily. “His construction company started with residential homes before he turned to commercial buildings. We trusted Aidan with the architectural plans, and he added a lot of extras. Trace and I love it here.”
    This was a house that Aidan had built . Jill’s jaw dropped. His company did amazing work. She was impressed. The living room looked out over the Gulf and seemed to stretch forever. The furniture was formal yet comfortable and blended soft buttery leathers with overstuffed chairs and ottomans.
    A three-tiered bird cage sat in one corner of the room. A gray parrot perched on a swing. It bobbed its head, fluttered its wings, and set the swing in motion. “Company’s here,” the parrot squawked as they passed.
    Shaye stopped near the cage. “How’s my favorite girl?” she asked.
    “Hanging in,” the parrot replied.
    “Meet Olive, my very vocal Quaker,” Shaye said. “She just turned five.”
    “Happy Birthday to me!”
    “She’s social, intelligent, and has a big vocabulary,” Shaye added. “She can’t keep a secret and