Page 120 of Beach Vibes

Was she suggesting Beth find new friends? After what had happened with Jana, she wasn’t sure she had the skill set.

“And I journaled.”

Beth stared at her blankly. “You what?”

“I journaled. Wait right here.”

Agatha walked out of the kitchen, only to return less than a minute later with two large board game–size boxes. She handed Beth the first one.

“Journaling Kit,” Beth read, hearing the doubt in her voice. “This hasn’t been opened.”

“I overbought,” her aunt said with a smile. “I did three of these the first year after your uncle passed. I told our story, starting at the beginning and working my way up to the present. Take a look.”

Beth ripped open the plastic, then spread out the supplies. There were colored markers, pens and stickers. The journal itself was the size of a notebook, with thick, lined pages.

“You asked where it all started to change with Rick,” her aunt said. “Start at the beginning. Tell your story with your brother. You might surprise yourself with what you find.”

“I’m not a diary person,” Beth said, knowing Agatha was only trying to help, but really? A journal? Who had the time?

“Just try it. Give it a week. If you hate it or think it’s not helping, then stop.” Agatha gave her a gentle smile. “If nothing else, you can call him a big fat poopy head over and over again. That could be satisfying.”

Despite everything, Beth laughed. “I like to think I could be a little more aggressive than that.”

“I don’t know. Calling someone a poopy head is kind of bad­ass.”

Beth looked at her aunt. “You’re always rescuing me.”

“I believe it was just the one time, but I do love you, and I would do anything for you.”

“I love you, too.”

And with those words, Beth realized she did still have family and a soft place to fall. Today, that was going to be enough.

24

It took several days for the shock to wear off. Unfortunately that left Beth with no buffer against the pain she felt. Discovering who and what her brother was so soon after losing both Teddy and Jana had been like a nearly mortal emotional injury—recovering would take a long time. But going through the motions of her life helped, and when it came to distractions, being at work was a big one.

Thursday, a little after one, Yolanda stuck her head in the prep kitchen.

“Mr. Kazinsky just walked in, Boss. I thought you’d want to know.”

“Finally,” Beth said, stripping off her disposable gloves and heading for the front of the store. “He hasn’t been in this wholeweek. I was getting worried.” She smiled at her employee. “Thanks for telling me. I appreciate it.”

“I was worried, too. He’s an old man. Anything could happen.”

Ugh. Not something Beth wanted to think about. She couldn’t take any more bad news for at least six months.

She got the container of the special horseradish cream sauce she’d prepared from the under-counter refrigerator, then collected half a sliced baguette, roast beef and Brie. After putting the sandwich together, sans cucumber, she grilled it, then added the sauce and sliced cucumber before placing it on a paper plate, along with a fruit cup. By the time Mr. Kazinsky reached the front of the line, the sandwich was ready.

“You’re a fine-looking woman who takes good care of me,” he told Beth as he paid. “If I was twenty years younger, I’d ask you to marry me.”

She grinned at their familiar banter. “If you were twenty years younger, I’d say yes.”

She collected two bottles of organic soda, and together they walked to one of the open tables. She hovered, watching as the older man carefully lowered himself into his chair, then put his cane on the floor under the table and out of the way of other guests.

“We haven’t seen you in a while,” she said, opening the first bottle and passing it to him. “Were you off in the Bahamas again?”

Mr. Kazinsky, nearly eighty, with thick glasses and gnarled hands, winked at her. “I wish. I could use a little time somewhere warm.”

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