He thought he could add even more to that, now that she was saying her goodbyes. "As a matter of fact, I picked up the phone when Frank called this morning. He was singing your praises."
"That's nice to hear. We go back a ways."
"Yeah. Well, I'm sure he's not wrong."
A smile bloomed on her face. "So, an actual vote of confidence from you, chili-dog? Even better."
He'd miss being chili-dog, just a little. The unexpected pang of sentiment convinced him to give her a bit more. "Frank is sending some packages. I said I'd accept them. A laptop, printer, other supplies. I'm actually planning to set up an office." Not that he was going to do anything inside it, but he figured Jane would take the information as the friendly farewell gift it was. A sign of truce between two former combatants.
Except she wasn't looking at him with gratification. "You don't have a laptop here? No computer whatsoever?"
"Uh..."
She was glaring again. "I thought Ted was wrong, you know. I thought you must have something to write on over here or else you wouldn't have told your sister you needed privacy two days ago because you'd be working."
Oh, shit.
"While you were over here basking in slothful solitude, I was out there - " she jerked a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the sand " - for two solid days building sand castles with your nephews, who might be adorable, but are definitely exhausting."
Old Man Monroe cackled. "You're in the doghouse, boy."
Jane gathered up the bag at her feet, then spun on her flashy sandals, heading back inside his house. The last he'd ever see of her, Griffin thought, was her cute ass. Not a bad way to go, but he didn't like the idea of her going away - forever - mad. "No goodbye?"
Her feet halted. She glanced over her shoulder. "Why? I'll be back in a minute. I'm just going to put my things in one of the guest rooms."
His jaw dropped. The coot started cackling again.
"Now that you'll have a computer, you're ready to work, Griffin. And since you claim you have confidence in my ability to do my job, it will be much easier for us with me living over here."
"But...but..." Jesus. He couldn't think. Living here? "What, uh, what about Tess and the kids?"
"They'll have more room next door without me underfoot." She started walking again, then took another look back. "Oh, and they'll be coming over tonight for dinner."
The coot's cackling only got louder.
Jane smiled at him. "Why don't you join us, Mr. Monroe? Griffin will be barbecuing."
And the day had started out so happy, Griffin thought, when his reeling brain finally settled. But she'd once again upended him, and he was no longer confident he had the skills to either wait her out or keep her out.
Damn. The enemy had infiltrated, putting the heart of the camp at risk.
* * *
FROM HER PLACE beneath the shade of a tropical umbrella, Tess Quincy made a bargain with herself. Twenty more minutes. That's how much longer she'd wait for her husband to meet her as she'd requested. She'd specified "lunchtime" and "on the beach" in her text to his phone, and had - wrongly - assumed he'd show up just minutes after noon. That had been two hours ago. If he didn't appear before the big hand touched the six on her wristwatch - worn in an effort to teach Duncan and Oliver about analog time - she'd retreat back to her cottage. Waiting a second more than that would only be another blow to her ego. It had taken enough hits.
Closing her eyes, she settled more deeply into the old-fashioned beach chair she'd found in a closet at No. 8. A tripod of light wood strung with striped canvas, it didn't lift her rear end off the sand, but it supported her back at the perfect angle for magazine-reading. As a girl, she'd spent hours just like this, paging through People and Us Weekly, imagining herself as one of the SoCal celebrities so often pictured on the glossy pages.
Nowadays, if she had time for any reading, it was for her moms' book group. They read about tiger mothers and free-range mothers and mothers who managed to start up sexy small businesses. Tess wondered now if she should have been studying up on husbands and wives or how to survive a failed marriage.