Page 4 of Beautiful Dreamer

Devyn Winters had been their classmate back in the day, butElizabeth hadn’t seen her at all since. Last she heard, Devyn was some kind ofhotshot real estate broker in Philadelphia and hadn’t looked back. She’dswooped into town for their mother’s funeral four years prior and swooped backout again without much in the way of a hello to anyone other than her circle,which included Jill and likely Devyn’s fellow cheerleaders, who unfortunatelystill lived in town, clinging to their glory days and too much Botox.Apparently, the two went hand in hand. She hadn’t seen a frown line on CricketJohansson’s face since the eighth grade, and it frightened her.

“Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. Dan is oncall at the hospital, but Gray says he’s game for On the Spot gigs as long asthere is music in the car,” KC said over Gray’s singsongy voice in the background.He’d been on a Justin Timberlake kick recently, soaking up whatever he couldfrom the radio. KC was going to have to keep an eye on that one and hisburgeoning two-year dance moves.

“I will, and stand by for the afternoon rush. Dreamer’s Bay is justwaking up and I have a feeling there’s a lot these people need.”

“We already have our sneakers on,” KC said. “Hit us up and we’llbe on our way. I wouldn’t mind if someone needed a liquor delivery. We’re lowon fun juice and I haven’t danced in a while.”

“Any liquor requests are prioritized for you. Don’t forget tocheck their IDs. And don’t drink with them while on the job. Get your groovegoing later.”

KC sighed. “Fine, Killer of Joy.”

“That’s me. Always. Owning it. Purchasing stock.”

She didn’t say goodbye as she clicked off the call. She didn’thave to with KC. They had an impressive shorthand that went all the way back tokindergarten, when KC Makowski—now KC Collette—and her family first put downroots in Dreamer’s Bay. Elizabeth had been born there. She liked to tellherself that the place was in her blood for that reason. While it was true thatnot too many people had heard of their town, they’d snagged a decent enoughtourist uptick afterAmericanLeisurelisted them as one of the small towns you should visitbefore you die. The handful of bed-and-breakfasts couldn’t accommodate theinflux, and several more had sprung up to sustain the visitors, who still camein clusters during the warm weather months for time on the beach. The Bay had agroup of pretty darn good restaurants, a couple of supermarkets—one big, onesmall—a movie theater with three screens, and a recently renovated bowlingalley where Elizabeth participated in the Tuesday-night league in the wintermonths. Go Ball Busters! The stretch of water along the coast and the quaintlittle boardwalk were their claim to fame, however. You could buy ice cream andwatch the tide come in.

With concerns about Jill still on her mind, Elizabeth let herselfinto her modest but, in her opinion, very charming home on Whippoorwill Way.She was the third house on the bend of the cul-de-sac and knew each of herneighbors quite well. What she loved most about her home was that it feltentirely hers. She’d decorated in a decidedly rustic Southern motif, embracingsunflowers and overturned tin pails and faded wooden signs that hung on the beigewalls. She’d used a variety of lavender accents because, well, she adoredlavender and all its purple relatives. She smiled at the pair of wooden duckson her mantel and nodded as she passed. In her refrigerator, she found thefresh-squeezed orange juice she’d made just the night before and poured herselfa luxurious glass, which really did hit the spot after her long walk with Hank.

She checked her appearance in the mirror and found that herlonger-than-she-was-used-to brown hair sported even more natural highlightsthan it had just a few weeks prior when the sun had been less present. Now shecould spot hints of blond, red, and light chestnut mixed in with the everydaybrown, culminating in a hodgepodge of color. She’d been told the naturalhighlights brought out the green in her eyes. Whether that was true or not, sheembraced the compliment, enjoying her hair’s jumble of shades. What else couldshe do? Elizabeth had never considered herself a beauty, but she was attractiveenough and, for the most part, comfortable in her own skin. Of course, shesecretly wished Thalia Perkins noticed her more, but then she couldn’t haveeverything she wanted in life. She ran her fingers through her hair, giving itan informal fluff. Good enough, she thought, and set out in her car forMcDonald’s and Mr. Iver’s overly salted lunch, just as a new flood of requestshit the app on her phone. She checked her watch and did a quick calculation ontime. Her phone buzzed again with a request for a grocery delivery. And anotherfor a ride home from the auto shop. It was going to be a busy day for On theSpot, and Elizabeth was up for it. But first, a stop at Jill Winters’s place.She wasn’t religious but rattled off a quick yet sincere prayer that all wouldbe okay. This was Dreamer’s Bay. It had to be, didn’t it?

* * *

By 8 p.m., Ricky was glancing furtively at his watch, probablywondering how much longer they were going to go. Devyn ignored him and focusedher attention on Wyatt Lowe, the shrewd developer at the helm of Twenty-FourWalker Place, an art deco tower going up in Streeterville on the north side ofPhiladelphia. The sixty-seven-story high-rise was one of the most expensiveconstruction projects in the city’s history, and any broker worth their saltwas angling for a piece of the pie. Devyn wanted the whole damn thing. First,she had to convince Wyatt, who was known for his perfectly coiffed dark hair,high-end wardrobe that bordered on perfection, and risk-taking business sense.He’d raked in millions like Monopoly money and had a lot to show for hisforty-five years on the planet.

Wyatt studied Devyn over his bourbon neat. “We’re thinkingtwenty-two hundred a square foot.”

Devyn wanted to spit her drink across the table. Instead sheswallowed carefully, then regarded him. “That’s insane.”

“That’s not what your competition is saying. In fact, Tom Morellithinks it’s doable.”

Devyn leaned forward. “Morelli will tell you whatever he has to inorder to snag the listing. If you listen to him, you’ll be shooting yourself inthe foot.”

Wyatt glanced at the ceiling, then took a drink.

“I’m a straight shooter, Wyatt, and you know it. Two thousand asquare foot, and I’ll sell the thing out with my team.”

“Can’t do it,” Wyatt said. Ricky looked on as if engrossed in acomplicated tennis match. “Twenty-one.”

She hesitated, took a hit of her drink, and placed the glass onthe table. “Fine. Twenty-one hundred a foot.”

He raised an eyebrow. “In three months.”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “The building is still underconstruction and won’t show the way it needs to. People can’t fill in theblanks. All they see are hard hats and unfinished kitchens.”

“What do you need from me to make it happen?” Wyatt asked.

“A high-end showroom at the very least, a model, technology, orget me more time.”

“No showroom. Do you know how much that will cost?”

“Do you know how much you’re asking me to accomplish in a shorttime period? People need to see what they’re laying down money for in order tocough it up. You’re investing over two hundred million dollars in thisbuilding. Surely you can take one final step to be sure you get a high returnon your investment.” She stared at him good and hard. “Come on. Let’s set aPhilly record with this one.”

His eyes lit up at the prospect, and he ran a finger around the rimof his glass as if weighing his many millionaire options. Ricky, who sat to herright clutching his Blue Moon like a handful of pearls, held his breath inanticipation.

Devyn stared at Wyatt, and Wyatt stared back. She waited.

“Fine,” he said, once it felt like all of the air had been suckedfrom the room. “We’ll get you your showroom and you sell the building out infourmonths attwenty-one hundred a square foot or I’m pulling the listing.” That would killnot only her ego but her reputation among other developers. She couldn’t fail.She wouldn’t.

Devyn sat back in her chair with a satisfied smile, riding thekind of high only an opportunity like this one could inspire. It felt likesitting at the top of the roller coaster, waiting in anticipation for that rushthat would blow your hair back and release the endorphins, only to have it hitso much harder than you had even anticipated. So fucking satisfying. “You’reon.”

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