Page 4 of Sighs By the Sea

“Hey, Miranda? Can you put some sunscreen on Georgie?”

She's staring at her phone, her feet up on a second chair. “No,” she says without looking up.

Tilly stands up and glares at her sister. “God, Miranda." She slaps her sister's feet off the chair. Miranda glares back but doesn't say anything. Tilly waves me away. "I got it, Gray. Go sign your stuff.”

Nodding, I follow Penny. She walks quickly through the house, like she's been here a dozen times before. Near the garage, she stops in front of a door. It has a childproof case on the handle, but Penny opens it expertly and walks inside.

The paperwork is spread out on a corner desk. They were definitely prepared for me to say yes. Penny sits and rolls the chair forward before pulling up a single sheet off the stack. "W4 first." I sit in the extra fold-out chair and quickly work through it. When I'm done, she brings out the CPA application next. That takes a while longer, but eventually, I finish it as well.

The final stack of papers is very thick, and Penny hands it over without meeting my eye line.

When I see an address on the top page, I look at her. “What’s this?”

“Tilly got you a condo,” she says with a wince.

My eyes widen. “She what?”

Penny holds up both hands. “I’m a real estate agent, and she got a great deal. But technically, she would be your landlord."

I put my head in both hands. "No. Absolutely not."

But Penny swivels her chair around to face me. "You’re helping her out. She wanted to diversify, and this was the perfect excuse.”

"A condo? This is a joke, right? Jesus, how much money does she have?"

Penny shrugs, but the way it happens, I have a feeling she does know exactly how much money Tilly has. As her real estate agent, I suppose she would have a good idea. “If you're worried about the state of the home, I have pictures—”

I hand the stack of papers back. “It’s too much. I’ll find my own place.”

She crosses her arms. “Grayson, if you have a home and job, George can stay. Have you thought about that?" My eyebrows bear down. Being put in my place is not a favorite pastime. But Penny doesn't stop. "Where else will you go? Stay here? Sleep on their couch? How is that different from staying at another one of her homes?"

Damn. She’s right about that. “Look, as someone who's killed a person, I can tell you, just move on. This is your chance to restart.”

“Killed?” I ask.

“You don't know the story?" she asks with a furrowed brow. I certainly do not. If I did, I might not be in this office alone with her. She flaps a hand in the air. "It doesn't matter anyway. Don’t look back, right? Tilly can tell you if you're curious. Point is, I get it. Being labeled sucks.”

She slides the stack of papers back my way. "But we aren't doing that. You're her hero, Grayson. You deserve this."

I look at the rental agreement and back at Penny. "I'm not someone who likes handouts."

Pursing her lips, Penny clicks a pen and holds it out. "Everything comes out of your check. It's a leg up, not a handout." Like she's taunting me, she clicks the pen again multiple times before I finally snatch it from her. Quickly, I sign everything, feeling a little piece of my soul slip away with every dotted line I cover.

A smirk dancing on her cheeks, she says, "Great!" The papers are tucked into an envelope, and she stands. "So, last thing. It’s furnished, but if you need anything…” She pulls out a credit card and hands it over. “This is under Tommy’s name, but he added you as a signer. The minimum payment for whatever you spend will come out of your check.”

I don’t bother arguing but deep down know I’ll never use it. Penny holds out her hand, and I shake it once. “Welcome to the surf shack family, Grayson.”

Margaret

Itake another sip of water and set the glass down. Though my hand is perfectly calm, my heart is racing. I hate being on the stand.

“Detective Parker, can you answer the question, please?”

I take a breath and steel my eyes on the criminal defense lawyer. The man looks like a cheap mob boss: hair slicked back, gold pinkie ring. Scumbag.

“I read him his Miranda rights prior to searching his person," I say, hoping the confidence I'm projecting isn't too much.

“I see. So the body camera just happened to cut out, and my client gets a black eye and is found with the heroin, then it turns back on.”

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