“Bad,” she said simply. “And Wes Sharrun had the nerve to try to guilt me into renovating.” “Guilt” may be a strong word. He’d simply suggested she think about it. But she did feel guilty, and it was partly his fault.

Her friends exchanged looks.

“What?” she asked, biting into a chocolate pastry. The combination of cocoa and sugar made her eyes close as she savored the burst of flavor dancing on her tongue.

“Wes was here?” Whitney asked.

“A few hours ago.”

The two women stared at her as though waiting for her to elaborate.

“Well, how was seeing him again?” Jessica asked, tying her dark, wavy hair back from her face as the early-evening breeze off the ocean picked up.

Sarah waved a hand. “I see him all the time on Facebook. It was no different.”

Except that it was totally different. Her former crush was no longer a cute athlete who she’d tutored for two years and never had a chance with, given he and Kelly were the school’s famous couple. Now he was a hot-as-hell business owner, widower, and single dad. One who had encouraged her to invest a ton of her savings into restoring an old family property she wanted nothing to do with.

“That’s a lie,” Whitney said, sipping her wine.

“That was a schoolgirl crush I had on him years ago. And I’ve totally forgiven him for the incident that we’re never to discuss.” Maybe telling her friends what had happened that night years ago or her revenge fantasies since then was a bad idea.

“Okay, we’ll pretend to buy that,” Whitney said, kicking her feet free of her sandals and folding her long legs under her on the chair. At five foot nine and 120 pounds soaking wet, her blond bombshell of a best friend had missed her calling as a fashion model. Instead, she was head of marketing and tourism at the mayor’s office in town.

“So, what do you plan to do?” Jessica asked.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly.

“So many hotel chains have been after this amazing location for years; you could reach out to one of them,” Whitney said.

“Grandma always said no to their offers.”

“She loved this place,” Whitney said softly. “Even if keeping it wasn’t in her best interest.”

Sarah heard her friend’s unvoiced warning. Would she be repeating her grandmother’s mistake if she kept it and renovated in the hope of saving it?

“How was the funeral?” Jessica asked, changing the subject as she reached out to squeeze Sarah’s hand.

The comforting gesture was something she hadn’t realized she’d needed. The last few days had been busy with the funeral and will, and she really hadn’t had time to mourn the loss. “Nice. Private. The way Grandma would have wanted it.”