Hurricanes in Paradise by Denise Hildreth Page B

the young woman from dinner last night ran smack-dab into her. She noticed a look of fright in those brooding dark eyes immediately. “Hey, hey . . . ,” she said, reaching out to take Tamyra’s arm as she came off the elevator.
    Tamyra stood an entire head and shoulders above Winnie and looked down at her as she spoke. “Oh, hey, Winnie.”
    “What’s wrong, baby? You look almost as white as me. And for you that’s not a good thing.”
    She shook her head determinedly as if she were trying to shake something off. “Oh, nothing.”
    “You shake your head any harder and you’re going to be in the hospital for shaken baby syndrome. Now, where are you going so frazzled?”
    “I’m just going back to my room and—”
    Winnie’s hand flew up. “Ehh.” The sound escaped her like the sound of a cicada. “No young woman as beautiful as you is going to be in a breathtaking place like this and live in your room. Go put your bathing suit on.” She swatted her hand in the air toward the hallway.
    “Winnie, I don’t want to go to the—”
    “I know you don’t. I can see you want to jump out of your skin. I know what that feels like. I felt it for a couple years after my Sam died. The only thing is, I don’t know why someone as young as you would want to do that. But you know what, I promise I won’t ask you why.”
    She could see relief wash over the young woman’s face.
    “That’s my promise. No questions. You can tell me only what you want me to know. But I’m good company and there’s a gorgeous pool down there. So you and I are going to go spend our day by it. Now go.”
    Tamyra stood stoically in front of her.
    “Go. I’ll wait right here,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her. She watched as Tamyra’s shoulders eased back down and she finally nodded her head.
    “You sure?”
    “I’m positive. I’ll sit and read and you can lie there and talk, pump music through your ear canals, or stare out into space. But I’ve learned sometimes it’s just nice to have a body next to you. Plus, we’ll order daiquiris,” she said, raising her eyebrows up and down.
    Tamyra’s face relaxed, traces of a smile almost present. “You don’t drink.”
    “Who knows. I’m on vacation. Maybe I’ll start.” Winnie gave her a wink. “Now go put that beautiful body in a bathing suit so I can hate myself for the rest of the day.”
    “You’re sure.”
    The girl was a slow one. “Go.”
    Tamyra inched backward. “Want to walk with me to my room? I’ll just be a minute.”
    Winnie knew what fear looked like. “Sure, baby girl. I’ll just sit on your sofa and wait for you. How’s that?”
    Tamyra’s expression relaxed further. “That would be good.”
    She watched Tamyra as they walked toward her room. Winnie had spent years pulling young people out from underneath their burdens. Apparently some things never took a vacation.

6
     

    Sunday afternoon . . .
    Riley stood in the bathroom of the Mosaic restaurant and leaned against the counter. She was getting too familiar with the bathrooms around here. She had brought Laine back to The Cove for the magnificent lunch buffet but had come into the bathroom to try to get some relief from the pounding headache she’d acquired over the last four hours. She reached her hands up to the top of her head and tried to rub the throb away, but it just fell in rhythm with the movement of her fingers. She had spent the morning answering Laine’s litany of questions and had covered only a fourth of the property. They would continue the tour this afternoon, and her evening would be spent catching Gabby’s recital and finding answers to some of the tougher questions Laine had asked.
    It wasn’t Laine’s questions that frustrated her as much as it was the condescending, arrogant tone. Obviously sitting alone in a room writing books all these years hadn’t honed her people skills. Riley was wondering how Laine had gotten a husband far more than how she had