Brothers of Paradise Series

I nod. This whole thing still feels a bit crazy. It’s been a year since I last did any website work. It had always been online and I didn’t actually meet the clients. A side gig I’d started when Emma was a toddler.

“So you want a completely new website?” I ask.

“I think that would be best, yeah.” He gestures to the empty chair beside him. “Neil left earlier.”

I take a seat and look at the half-open door. Stephen and the other waitresses are still out there, finishing up the few evening orders. One of the younger waitresses had given me a curious look when I went into Parker’s office at the end of my shift.

“Probably best with the door open,” Parker says. “Is that okay?”

“Mhm, yeah. Absolutely. So… let me just find my notebook.” I dig through my bag. “Right. So you want a completely new website. Do you want to keep the same graphic profile as the yacht club has now?”

He runs a hand through his hair. It’s less sandy now than it once had been, darkened into a rich blond. I wonder if he went sailing this morning. “The old logo is good. I don’t mind it. But do you think it needs updating?”

I hesitate. But he’s never punished me for honesty, so I say it. “It could be updated, yeah.”

“All right. Why don’t you play around with it and show me some options?”

“Sure. What other features do you need?”

Parker lists them one by one, even going so far as to open the old website and show the parts he likes and dislikes. It looks like it was designed by a twelfth grader. Basic HTML. Perhaps that’s part of the charm, but it’s hampering growth.

I glance at the lists of sailing classes again. Maybe I could create an internal scheduling system for them, too. If he doesn’t think the website I create sucks, that is.

“Well, Jamie…” He runs a hand along his thigh, across the fabric of his slacks. “I’m wondering if I should apologize for the other day.”

I dig my teeth into my lower lip and look away from his hand. It’s broad and tanned. “You were going to run into us one of these days.”

“It is a pretty small town.”Content © provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

“It is. Really, thank you for being so nice to her. She loved the sprinkles.”

He grins. “I’ve pulled that trick with little Jamie too. Makes me an instant favorite.”

“Really?”

“Yes. She’s lovely, James.”

That’s one thing I can agree on. “She’s fantastic.”

“I didn’t know about her.”

“No… I don’t tell a lot of people.” About most things. I look back at the floor, at my tennis shoes. They don’t fit in with my smart uniform, with the navy skirt and the too-snug white blouse. Maybe the uniform can be changed, along with a new logo.

“You know what I’m curious about,” Parker says quietly. “But I get the feeling you don’t want any questions about him?”

I take a deep breath. “Not particularly.”

“You’re here in Paradise alone, then?”

“With Emma, but yes.”

Parker nods, and there’s no pity in his eyes. Just friendly curiosity, and the same steadiness that he’s always had. It’s comforting, like he could put out a fire, excel at any sport. In a Hollywood movie he’d be the first to enlist against an alien invasion. I don’t think he’s ever painted a house-the Marchands are too well off for that-but I can see him doing that, helping a friend out with his strong arms.

Maybe that’s why I keep talking. “We’re staying with my mom. I think I already told you that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s weird, being back at home, especially when you have a child yourself.”

“I can imagine,” he says, voice steady. Not judging, and it hits me like a lode weight across the chest just how much I’ve missed him, and Lily, and his whole family. They’d always felt like comfort to me, even when I was a rebellious teenager. “But I’m guessing your mom is loving it. Do she and Emma get along?”

“Famously,” I say. “Emma has Mom wrapped around her little finger. She’s shy, but she’s clever. She gets her way.”

Parker laughs. “Well, she’s your daughter.”

“She is. Although it’s funny, in some ways she’s very different than me. And not like… her father, either. She’s her own little human entirely.”

“I’ve heard similar things,” he says. “Seen it, too, with my niece and nephew.”

“Right, you have a niece too, now. How’s Henry as a father? He always struck me as a family man.”

“Yeah?” Parker runs a hand over his jaw. His arm flexes with the movement, strong beneath the linen shirt he’s wearing. None of his old athleticism is gone, but it’s sturdier now, like clay that’s been baked and hardened. “I suppose he has. He took care of us when we were younger.”

“I remember. Didn’t he teach you how to ride a bike?”

“Taught both me and Lily, yeah. He was a kid himself.” Parker chuckles. “Well, now he has an actual kid.”

“Hazel, right? That’s a beautiful name.”

“Yeah, she’s a sweetheart. They’re not here much, though. Henry and Faye finally bought a house in Paradise, but they’re both too busy in New York to live here permanently.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard.” The Marchand name is one I’ve googled periodically over the last couple of years, to follow their journeys.

“Would be hard not to,” Parker says dryly, but he looks pleased, too.

“What’s Rhys doing?”

“What Rhys always does, which is whatever the hell he wants.”

I chuckle. “That sounds about right.”

“He’s travelling the world with his girlfriend. They’re shooting some kind of documentary, I think, while he finishes the last touches on a photography book.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Yeah, it’s the opposite of a settled life.” Parker shakes his head. “But that’s Rhys.”

“Who is his girlfriend?”