Page 3 of The Beach House With You 2

“It wasn’t!” Jeanette said with a laugh, playfully batting at Amanda’s shoulder as she caught her expression. “It was a thank you dinner, that’s all. And a way for two old friends to catch up. Which, we really didn’t get to do because he got the security alert.”

“And you don’t know who this guy is?” Franny asked. “On the camera I mean.”

“It wasn’t Dad, was it?” Carmen asked.

Jeanette went still as her daughter asked this, her forkful of pasta salad freezing halfway to her mouth.

“Why would you ask that?” she asked. “Haven’t you seen him around?”

“He was when we last talked,” Carmen explained, “but I got a call from Sandy a few days ago, asking if I’ve seen him.”

Jeanette put her fork down, looking hurt. “Sandy?” she asked. “Who’s Sandy?”

Silence stretched through the kitchen as everyone turned to look at Carmen, and she realized only then that her mom didn’t know. Carmen pulled her lower lip between her teeth and began nibbling worriedly as she gave her mom a sympathetic look.

“Sandy is the name of Dad’s—I mean she’s.” Carmen sighed, feeling suddenly tongue-tied.

“Sandy is Dad’s girlfriend,” she finally got out, her voice barely audible. “The woman you caught him on the couch with. I’m sorry, Mom.”

For a moment, Jeanette looked hurt. Her green eyes misted over as her strawberry blonde eyebrows drew down in a frown and she pressed her lips together. Then, just as quickly, she let out a breath, relaxed her face, and shook her head.

“Well, there’s no use in being surprised or offended,” she announced matter-of-factly, picking up her fork again. “So, you said he’s missing?”

“Not missing,” Carmen replied quickly. “At least not yet. I mean, for all we know he found another woman to go play with. We don’t talk much, Dad and I, but when we met for coffee a couple of weeks ago, he did seem surprised that Sandy was already trying to move in. I don’t think that was his plan at all.”

At this, Jeanette let out a dry laugh. “Well, your father was never really a planner,” she said sarcastically. “And if you’re telling me I shouldn’t worry about it, then I won’t.”

“You definitely shouldn’t,” Carmen agreed quickly.

“Okay,” Amanda sighed, sweeping her hands out from her chest, “enough of the gloomy stuff, yeah? Let’s move on. Carmen, Franny, I want to know everything. Work, school, romance, spill it all.”

2

Carmen awoke to the sensation of something tapping her nose gently. She groaned, flicked her hand over her nose, and then turned to nuzzle into her pillow. A moment later, she felt the same tapping on her side, and she sighed in agitation.

“Franny, why?” she asked grumpily, turning to lie on her back. Carmen yawned as Franny giggled, and a second later her best friend hopped into bed with her.

“How are you sleeping through that?” Franny asked, burrowing under the covers.

“Through what?” Carmen asked, running a hand through her wild tangle of strawberry blonde curls as she sat up. It was only then that she heard the repetitive beating of hammers, the droning of saws, and the sound of continual footsteps going up and down the hallway.

“Geez, what’s going on out there?”

“Construction by the sound of it,” Franny replied dryly. “Woke me up hours ago. I thought they’d wake you up too, but you’ve been out like a light.”

“Hours?” Carmen asked, reaching for her phone. It read 10:57 a.m. “Oh my gosh!” she gasped, throwing the covers off her. “I haven’t slept this much since I was a kid.” Now that she was awake, it was impossible to drown out the loud sounds of construction happening outside their door. How had she slept through it all?

“I must have been more tired than I thought,” she murmured, going to her suitcase.

“Lucky you,” Franny said with an annoyed sigh. Carmen stopped rummaging through her suitcase to look at her best friend.

Unlike their personalities which pretty much mirrored one another, their looks couldn’t be more different. Carmen was tall and lithe like her father but had her mother’s green eyes and wild, curly, strawberry-blonde hair. Like her cousins Amanda and Whitney, she also had a smattering of light brown freckles along the bridge of her nose. Unlike Francesca, who sported a beautiful, olive-toned tan all year around, Carmen had two shades: porcelain white, and sunburned pink.

Francesca was barely five-foot-two, with curves to kill for and a head of thick, shiny, chocolate-brown hair that fell in perfect waves. Her eyes were only a few shades darker than her hair, framed by long, dark eyelashes and perfectly sculpted dark brows.

Normally, Franny woke up the happier of the two of them, and Carmen almost always walked into the kitchen to the sound of her humming while she was making them breakfast. Today, however, it was clear that Franny was not her sunny, happy self.

“You’re so grumpy this morning,” Carmen yawned, pulling on a pair of sweatpants.

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