Page 26 of Sunsets at the Beach House

“Never, actually.”

“Well, I did when Ray and I first started talking about getting married and a nicely decorated cake to feed two hundred people, without any fancy flavors or over-the-top design features, would have been eight hundred dollars. The really high-end cakes go for crazy money. One of the wedding sites I used to visit said to expect to pay as much as fifteen dollars a slice for a premium custom cake.”

“Fifteen?” Her mom blinked. “That’s … three grand for a cake to feed two hundred people.”

Kat nodded. “That’s what I was saying.”

Claire glanced at her cart full of baking supplies. “Maybe I shouldn’t be so fast to say no to wedding cakes, huh?”

Kat grinned. “Just remember who suggested it.”

“All right. What comes next?” Conrad asked.

Margo pressed her lips firmly together and tried to think as she stared at the computer screen. That didn’t help. She had no answer to Conrad’s question. “I don’t know.”

He looked over at her, his hands coming off the keyboard. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I just don’t.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about the house here and the house in Landry and getting a storage unit and everything that has to be done and I’m ashamed to say I’ve lost the thread of the book.”

His mouth bent in a quirky little smile, and he chuckled. “That happens. Trust me. I’ve been in the middle of writing an article and forgotten what the subject was.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m not. The brain doesn’t always want to focus on what we want it to.” He leaned back. “You know, this might be the perfect stopping point for us to print this thing out and take some time to read through it and mark it up.”

“Mark it up? You mean rewrites?”

“Maybe not rewrites, unless you think it’s needed. Just a little preliminary edit. Typos, maybe a change of a word, an addition to clarify something or deepen the emotional impact. That sort of thing.”

“Do you think we’re ready for that?”

“I do. We’ve got fifty pages, so it’s a decent chunk to work on.”

Margo gasped. “Do we really? I had no idea we’d written that much.”

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

She smiled. “It is, rather.”

“So is that a yes to the read-through? We’ll both get ourselves firmly back in the story and we may even come up with some new ideas.”

“That’s a yes,” she said.

“All right. Let me just make sure my printer has enough paper in it and we’ll get it going.”

He fiddled around with that for a few moments, then came back to the computer, and tapped a few keys. The printer started up and, seconds later, began spitting out pages.

“Want an Arnold Palmer while we wait?”

“I’d love one,” Margo said.

They went off to the kitchen. He added ice to two glasses, then got the bottles of iced tea and lemonade out of the refrigerator. He filled the glasses halfway with iced tea first, then topped them off the rest of way with lemonade. He handed one to Margo. “Cheers.”

She clinked her glass against his. “Cheers.” She took a sip. Living in Florida as long as she had, she’d known what an Arnold Palmer was, but she didn’t think she’d had one until meeting Conrad. He loved them on a warm day, and she had to admit, it was a very refreshing drink.

“Where are you going to read?” he asked. “Living room?”

“Maybe. Are you going to be in there? I don’t want to bother you if you are.”

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