“I heard there’s a bistro on Las Olas that has great mussels.”

“Taverna.” Why was she not surprised that he’d chosen the most exclusive, expensive restaurant in town?

Outside, in the parking lot, Brice pointed a key fob at a black Mercedes sedan and clicked it. Drue went to the backseat and opened the door.

He stood by the driver’s side, looking puzzled. “You’re getting in the backseat?”

“No,” Drue said, carefully stretching the seat belt across the bronze urn. “Mom is.”

When the waitress brought their drinks Drue knocked back half her margarita in one gulp.

Brice sipped his martini and rearranged the silverware on the tabletop.

“Can I ask you something without your getting pissed at me?”

“Maybe.”

He pointed at her right leg, with the knee ensconced in the hideous brace.

“What happened there?”

“I had a kiteboarding accident. Right after Mom got diagnosed.”

“So you’re still into that? Guess it wasn’t a phase after all, huh?”

Kiteboarding had been a major source of friction between Drue and Brice and her stepmother. Joan had objected to the cost of her board and kite (although it was money Drue earned from working at a surf shop), her kiteboarding friends (an admittedly motley-looking crew) and, especially, her obsession with the sport—to the detriment of her already mediocre grades.

Drue chewed the inside of her cheek. “Definitely not a phase. How is Joan, by the way?”

He picked the olive from his drink, chewed, and smiled bitterly. “Let’s see. She soaked me for a waterfront house, a new car and attorney’s fees to keep both Kyler and Kayson out of prison. Last I heard she’d moved up the marital food chain and married an orthopedic surgeon. So, I’d say she’s doing great.”

“So you two split up? Sorry to hear that.”

He sipped his martini. “No, you’re not.”

“That’s true. She never liked me, and the feeling was mutual.”

He started to say something, stopped, shook his head and took another sip of his martini.

“You said you had some business to discuss with me?” Drue prompted.

“That’s right.” He reached into the inside pocket of his blazer and brought out a key ring with a tacky pink plastic flamingo fob. Two keys dangled from the ring. He slid the key ring across the table toward his daughter.

“What’s this?”

“It’s the key to Coquina Cottage.”

“Nonni and Papi’s house? The old place on Sunset Beach? I thought Mom sold it after Nonni died.”

“She almost did, but in the end, she decided to keep it. I think maybe she thought one day the two of you would move back and live there. Anyway, it’s yours now.”

Drue picked up the key ring and turned it over and over. “You’re serious? For real? Like, I own Papi’s cottage?”