LITMIR.BIZ

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charged them what was within their means. Liz’s attorney father, Fenton, also lived and worked at the Indialantic in a four room apartment at the rear of the hotel, which included an office with a separate entrance. He took on small legal cases, sometimes being paid in grouper or sea bass instead of cash. He was as altruistic as his paternal aunt and that was one of things Liz loved most about the pair.

      Barnacle Bob remained unerringly quiet. Something was up. Liz glanced around for Dorian’s ferret, but didn’t see Farrah.

      “In the meantime,” Aunt Amelia said to Wren, “Why don’t you have a seat in the courtyard? Someone will bring you iced tea or Pierre’s lemon limeade.”

      Smiling, Wren said, “I would prefer something stronger. A shot of tequila or one of those umbrella type tropical drinks you guys are known for down here, if not, a margarita will do.”

      Barnacle Bob, who’d so far had been on his best behavior, leaned forward, his sharp beak close to Wren’s small, pert nose. In his TV announcer’s voice, he said, “How about a punch? A Hawaiian Punch? Bam!” The macaw was referencing an old fruit drink commercial, Hawaiian Punch being one of her great-aunt’s go to beverages. Liz thought the drink’s sugar content was enough to make a type 2 diabetic out of a vegan.

      Wren laughed. “You’re a nasty bird, aren’t you? I like nasty.”

      She was no Laura Ingalls Wilder.

      Dorian whizzed by her, giving the young woman an almost imperceptible elbow jab on her way to her fiancé’s side. “Julian, darling, Amelia’s assigned us the Oceania Suite. Wait until you see it. The terrace has a magnificent view of the ocean. And I’ve been down to the beach. It will be perfect for tonight’s blessing and ritual of prophecy, protection, divination, and love under a full magnificent moon.”

      Not wanting to have to take control of the awkward scene, Liz breathed a sigh of relief when assistant manager Susannah entered the lobby. She looked around, assessed the situation and went to stand next to Aunt Amelia like she was ready for battle. For all the skirmishes she and Aunt Amelia had been in when it came to snagging prime parts at the Melbourne Beach Theatre Company, the two could still surprise everyone by acting like they were besties.

      “Susannah, just in time,” Aunt Amelia said. “I need to get the Swaying Palms Suite aired out. Can you deliver some towels and clean linens to me when you have a chance?”

      “Of course, Amelia.” Something was up, Susannah wasn’t usually so agreeable. Susannah looked at Liz and pointed to the nonexistent watch on her wrist, then mouthed, “I need to talk to you.”

      Liz made sure no one was looking, then gave her a thumbs up.

      As Aunt Amelia led Wren to the open doorway leading to the courtyard, Liz thought she saw Wren wink in Julian’s direction. He didn’t return it, only scowled.

      The red haired man cleared his throat and Dorian said, “I’m sorry. This is Garrett McGee, my financial advisor and friend.” She gave him a warm smile.

      “Friend first,” he added, giving Dorian a huge grin. He got out of his chair and came to where Susannah, Liz, Ryan, and Kate were standing. Then he exuberantly shook their hands. His grip was firm, and his green eyes matched his easygoing grin. “Crazy thing. A wedding and a mermaid festival all rolled into one.”

      “Garrett, don’t forget the summer solstice,” Dorian said. “It will be the perfect merging of my spiritualism and astrological views and Julian’s Wiccan beliefs.

      “Sounds complicated,” Garrett replied, shooting a distrustful glance at Julian. It was obvious there was no love lost there.

      “Yes, Garrett,” Dorian answered, obviously not seeing the animosity in his eyes when he looked at her fiancé, “A Mystical Merfest and the summer solstice are perfect for our union. The Gemini twins are snug in their house and the full moon will be on hand in the next couple days. Right, dear?”

      Julian remained mute, so Dorian explained. “The Sunshine Wiccan Society is different from other sects. They do use the pentagram, the only traditional symbol most people think about when they think of witchcraft. Other than that, it’s as the name suggests. Julian’s society is all about light and spiritual blessings. Pagan, but not archaic and dark. Spells are only performed for good, never evil. Right, dear?”

      He shrugged his shoulders and looked like he would rather be anywhere but where he was.

      “We best get you unpacked,” she added.

      “Susannah, do you know what suites Auntie has assigned our wedding guests?” Liz asked, wanting to break up the not-so-cozy scene.

      Her straight stance and in control, no nonsense demeanor took over. “Yes of course. Mr. Starwood you’re in the Golden Sands Suite…”

      “My last name is Arnaud not Starwood,” Branson said.

      “My apologies, and your sister, Ms…”

      “She goes by Starwood, even though it’s mother’s maiden name. Helps her sell that ridiculous book of hers.”

      Susannah seemed to have had enough. Acting like a subservient servant wasn’t in her wheelhouse. She snapped, “Whatever name she goes by, she will be in the Island Breeze Suite.” Realizing everyone was staring at her, including Dorian, she continued in a softer tone, “Mr. McGee, you’ve been assigned the Indian River Suite. Everyone can leave their luggage here, and someone will bring it up to you.”

      “Thank you. It’s no problem. I can get mine,” Garrett answered, making it clear he wouldn’t be carrying anyone else’s.

      She looked toward Ryan. He smiled and gave Susannah a salute. “I’ll bring everyone’s luggage up.” It wasn’t his job, but Liz appreciated him helping out, especially by the looks of Phoebe’s two huge suitcases.

      Dorian grabbed Julian’s wrist. “Now that that’s settled.” She led him to the bottom of the lobby’s spiral staircase, and they started up the staircase.

      “Mama. Dorian,” Phoebe called out, “aren’t you going to introduce me to your fiancé?” She had a very slight French accent, not as strong as Pierre’s, the Indialantic’s eighty-one-year-old chef and Liz’s surrogate grandfather.

      Branson slapped his sister on the arm. “He already introduced himself to you before Mother came in, dweeb. And what’s with that fake French accent. You were only in Paris for three weeks.”

      Phoebe shot her brother a dirty look. “Just because you’re old pals with our future stepdaddy…”

      Liz saw Julian wince at her words.

      She continued, “Doesn’t mean he and I can’t do some bonding in the next couple of days.”

      It seemed Phoebe had never met Julian before.

      Branson made a fist and tapped her upper arm.

      “Mama, he slapped me.”

      It wasn’t forceful, and it wasn’t a slap.

      Halfway up the staircase, Dorian turned to look down at them.

      “For heaven’s sake, Mama! You know it’s bad luck to turn on a staircase. Thought you read my book? At least you listened to me and are getting married in June.” In a singsong voice she added, “Married in the month of roses—June. Life will be one long honeymoon.”

      Branson added his two cents. “Why would anyone read a book on superstitions? Only to have more things to worry about. You know you only wrote it as a publicity ploy, taking advantage of the Dorian Starwood franchise. A bunch of bull. Just like your tarot reading at my restaurant. You’re no intuitive. If I could only tell you how many complaints we’ve gotten about your doom-and-gloom prognostications.”

      “It’s not your restaurant. Mama bought it for you after she pulled you out of that hellhole you were living in. You want me to just make crap up? I read’em as I see’em. Mama taught me how to weave the

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