“Tomorrow you will meet me here, in Val’s kitchen.”
Meg started to shake her head.
Mrs. Masini narrowed her eyes and waved a hand in the air. “Jimmy!”
Meg glanced at Gabi, who looked across the lawn. Jim Lewis nodded and moved toward them, Val at his side. Once the men were at Mrs. Masini’s side, she relaxed in her chair and offered a casual smile.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“You’re singing tonight, yes?”
“Val asked if I would.”
Mrs. Masini waved a hand in the air. Her eyes never left Meg’s. “You will sing something with Miss Rosenthal.”
Meg’s mouth dropped.
“You said you sing,” Mrs. Masini reminded Meg.
There were no words. “But . . .”
“You sing with Mr. Lewis, and tomorrow you will return here so I can teach you how to cook one meal properly.”
Having grown up with a combination of Jewish guilt and a hefty dose of Hail Marys, Meg knew when a parent was going to win.
“Mama, if Margaret doesn’t want to—” Val started.
Meg lifted her hand. “Zip it, Masini.” The opportunity to sing with Jim Lewis was simply too great to pass up. Only Meg wanted one tiny change in the contract. “On one condition.”
All eyes were on her.
“Someone records it.”
Jim lifted a brow.
“Just us,” Meg said. “If we suck, you take the video. If not, I keep it for my grandchildren.”
“Don’t you mean our grandchildren?” Jim asked, laughing.
Val rolled his eyes, Gabi laughed, and Mrs. Masini waited.
“Deal?” Meg asked.
Chapter Seven
Who was the woman who’d taken over Margaret’s body? The fun-loving, laughing, flirting woman was nothing like the person Val painted when he’d read her first letter of request to come to the island. She had his mother and sister rapt before the lunch plates were taken away.
Then there was Jim. If the man weren’t thirty years older than Margaret, Val might be worried.
The sun was pushing past noon and most of his guests had left when Val felt his phone vibrate.
Carol knew not to disturb him during his afternoon off. Not that Val ever felt as if he were truly off. Owning the island resort had always been a full-time job. Even when he left the Keys, he never truly left his job.
Val checked caller ID and excused himself to answer Carol’s call.
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Masini.”
“My guess is you would have avoided it if you could. What can I do for you?”
“We have a little situation.”
Val instantly thought of the pictures in his e-mail the last two days and held his breath.
“Which is?”
“It appears Mr. Wolfe is requesting a guest join him and Miss Rosenthal.”
“Requesting?”
Carol cleared he throat. “He is returning from Key West with a Mr. Ryder Gerard. The two of them are en route now. Captain Stephan is waiting for your orders.”
There had been times when his guests had “unexpected” additions to their party . . . and yes, more than one would pick up a stray in Key West. But Michael Wolfe? And with the pictures showing up daily in his in-box?
Val moved his gaze to Margaret, heard her laugh at something Jim was saying. What did she know about this Ryder Gerard? How could she have eaten lunch with him and his family and say nothing of the new arrival?
“Run a quick check . . . find out where the man lives.”
“I’m already working on it.”
“Tell Stephan to circle the island until I know this man isn’t a plant.”
“Yes, sir.”
Val hung up the phone and approached his family.
Margaret met his gaze and her laughter faded. Michael wasn’t sleeping off an evening of drink. He was wandering off island. Suspicion of the woman and the man made Val’s blood boil. So much for trust and depending on her.
“Someone doesn’t look very happy.”
Val ignored his sister’s comment and directed his attention to Margaret. “Can I have a word with you?”
Margaret pushed away from the table and walked to his side.
On instinct, he took hold of Margaret’s elbow and led her away from anyone who might overhear them.
“Why do I feel like I’m being led to the principal’s office?” she asked.
Val found no humor in her voice. “Who is Ryder Gerard?” he asked without any prompt.
“Excuse me?”
He stopped walking, turned toward her.
Margaret pulled out of his grip, making him realize that he held her a little too tight.
“Seems your friend with benefits is requesting another guest join your party.”
She blinked a few times until his words sank in. “He is?”
“Don’t play coy with me, Margaret. Michael isn’t sleeping anything off in your rooms.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes sharp points of accusation. “I don’t play, Mr. Masini. Michael was in our villa when I left to join you here. If he left once I was gone, that’s news to me. It’s not like he can send me a text to tell me where he is.”
“I suppose next you’re going to tell me that Mr. Wolfe said nothing to you about bringing a friend to join you.”
She lifted her chin. “Seems you’ve already accused me of lying, Mr. Masini. To serve what purpose? I’m the one who arranged our stay here. Michael knows you have a background check for every guest. He understands why better than most of the people here. If he is asking for someone to join us, my guess is he has a good reason and that person is as trustworthy as your mother.”