The Stone Family Heart - Taylor Hart Page 0,25

something like, Now you know how I felt every time you were on a bender and didn’t come home or call.

But she didn’t. Instead, she responded in a clipped, professional manner. Thank you for your concern. I’m fine.

The bubbles popped up to indicate that Jeff was typing, but he ended up sending her nothing.

Kensi headed through the gate that led to the beach. She bent and picked up stray trash, which was scattered all over. She should have brought a big trash bag out to clean up.

The sun was out and the seagulls were circling. Some dead fish had washed up onto the shore and the seagulls were taking turns with all of it. Blech.

Kensi walked past the old Anderson place, then the Hansen place, then the Stout place. Did any of the old families still live there? She’d have to ask Trey about that.

As if on cue, a man in a large fishing hat moved from the Stout place onto the beach. She remembered the Stout sisters. They weren’t the nicest girls, a bit spoiled and always telling everyone about the new things they’d gotten that year—“my new Porsche,” “my new Mercedes.” But she could swear that was Mr. Stout. He was moving to pick up a piece of trash when he looked up in her direction.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

“Kennedy Stone, is that you?” He walked toward her.

Mr. Stout had always been a kind man. He acted embarrassed when his girls were such braggarts, even though the reason they bragged so much was because of his clear indulgence.

“Mr. Stout?” She laughed.

He opened his arms. “Trey told me you’d be coming. I’m glad to see you survived the storm.”

She hugged him. The man smelled of beach and sweat. When she pulled back, she noted he still had the same kind smile. “It’s so good to see you.”

He looked her up and down. “My, you are a sight for sore eyes. It’s always good to see a pretty woman after a long storm.” Mr. Stout had lost his wife a couple years ago—Kensi had heard the news from her mother when she’d been recounting the South Port news during one of their conversations.

“Thank you.” She patted his shoulder. “I’m so glad to see that you survived the storm, too. Is there anything you need?”

He guffawed and waved a hand through the air in dismissal. “Heavens, no. I’m sturdy.” He made finger guns. He always used to do that when they were kids. “Can’t keep an old Stout down.”

She grinned back at him.

“So Trey leaves you to this mess?”

She shrugged. “Can’t predict the weather. He deserved a honeymoon.”

“That’s true. Boy, that Ava. Now he got lucky to marry her.” He scrunched his nose. “I knew Charles was bad news from the start, and so did my Minnie. She knew it too.”

“We’re lucky to have Ava in the family.”

He hesitated, and she had the feeling he wanted to ask her something. He’d probably heard that she was divorced. She almost asked about his daughters, but … they'd really never gotten along.

“Good to see you, Mr. Stout,” she said.

“You too. Don’t be a stranger if you need anything.”

She continued down the beach. Even though she’d taken a swim prior to the hurricane the night before, she hadn’t been able to appreciate the beach in the daylight. It brought her a rush of nostalgia to be back in South Port, just walking down the beach and running into neighbors. Heck, last night had been a whirlwind—not just because of Tim, but because of Lucy and Matt and his daughter Tatum. When they had all been hunkered down together, it had felt … well, it had felt like family.

Except Mr. Banks, of course.

She smiled. The man had insisted on them all calling him Ryan, but everyone had continued to call him Mr. Banks.

Her phone buzzed. She ignored it. When it buzzed again a minute later, she slipped it out, ready to give Jeff an earful and tell him to quit calling.

It was Trey. She was obligated to answer his calls.

“Hello,” she said, trying to keep her tone light.

“What the heck is happening?” He sounded frazzled. “We just got off the plane in London, and I’m staring at the hurricane that hit you guys last night.”

“We’re okay.” Her mind flipped through recent events, trying to filter what she would tell him. “We have a couple broken windows and some damaged paneling. Some landscaping, but nothing big. What about you?”

“Kens …” Her brother pressed her.