Brothers of Paradise Series

She hesitates a moment before answering. “Good.”

“This is the restaurant your mom and I work at.”

Jamie leads her daughter to the table next to ours and lifts her up on a chair. “Sit here, sweetheart. Now, I brought you some paper… want to color while Mom works?”

Emma nods and accepts the notepad she’s handed with a serious expression, like she’s buckling down for a job, too. It makes me smile. “I have something for you,” I say. “Wait a minute…”

I rummage through the back office for the giant bucket of crayons. It’s been in the corner for as long as I remember, a remnant from the previous owners, given to unruly children.

Emma’s eyes shine at the sight. “I can use them?”This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Knock yourself out.”

She smiles a brilliant little smile, complete with crooked front teeth, and reaches for the purple crayon.

“Thanks,” Jamie says. Her hair is in a braid today, but a few tendrils have escaped, framing her face. She pulls out an old laptop with colorful stickers on the back. Flower power, one says, and another Paradise Dive Shop.

“Sorry,” she says as the computer loads up. “It’s not the quickest.”

“It’s your mother’s?”

Jamie nods. “But she rarely uses it.”

I run a hand over my jaw and focus on the screen, not on her. A daughter, no husband, staying at her mom’s. Waitressing and riding a bike. Sympathy squeezes painfully tight in my chest, along with shame at my words from the other day. Henry, architect, opera house, models, photographer, art gallery… Not to mention Lily with her house on Ocean Drive and me, just the other morning, pointing at the house I’d bought.

There are layers to the hesitancy in Jamie, with more secrets than I can imagine, thorns that seem stuck beneath the surface.

But I wonder if money isn’t one of them.

“Parker?” Jamie says, a small smile on her face. “Are you with me?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure. What am I looking at?”

“This is the interface I use to build websites. Here’s the first potential layout… let me know what you think.”

The website looks nothing like the old one. And that’s a good thing. A sleek welcome page greets me with the logo, now navy blue, a circle with a sailing boat and the yacht club’s name.

“Oh,” I say.

Jamie’s voice speeds up. “Everything can be changed. Just tell me if you don’t like something.”

“No, no, I do. I like it a lot.”

She leans closer, her arm reaching for the trackpad. Her hair smells of flowery shampoo. “I was thinking this could have a slideshow with inviting pictures, of the restaurant, the food and the marina.”

“Paradise Shores,” I read out loud. “Your slice of heaven.”

“Too much?”

“It’s perfect.” Maybe I can get Rhys to shoot the place. He’d think it beneath him, but he owes me. And he knows this place as well as I do.

“The menu on the side pops out when you move the cursor over it. Look, here are the different functions. Sailing classes, menu, an about section, and…”

“A shop?”

She nods. “We’ll keep that page internal until we actually have something to sell. What do you think?”

We spend the next thirty minutes sorting through the website options. She’s thorough and soft-spoken beside me, but her voice grows in confidence as she navigates the system.

“We could have a password protected section here,” she says, “for bookings or information about the sailing classes.”

“God, that would save Neil so much time.”

She nods. “We could start a newsletter, too, down the line.”

“A newsletter?”

“Yeah. One for the sailing classes, and one for the restaurant. You know, to keep people in the community aware of new menu specials, live music events, that sort of thing. This place is such a big part of town. ”

“You did all of this in a week?”

She pushes a tendril of hair back. “I created a dummy website and a logo,” she says. “The rest are just ideas.”

“Not ideas. This is amazing.”

Jamie looks down at her hands. “I think it’s fun.”

“Yes, and you’re clearly good at it. When did you learn to do this?”

“When Emma was born.” She looks at her daughter, industriously drawing colorful shapes in her notepad. “I had a lot of time at home and I wanted an income.”

“Understandable. Did you have many clients?”

“Only a few.” Jamie leans back in her chair, eyes far away as she looks at the computer. “But I haven’t done it for a year or two.”

“Well, you’re a natural. I want to hire you to do all of it.”

“All of it?”

“Yes. The website, the booking system, the menu, the merchandise, the newsletter.”

“Parker,” she says and there’s admonition in her voice. “I’m not a professional.”

“This looks very professional to me. Besides, my only other option is to give this job to someone outside of town. And I think this job is better suited for someone from Paradise. Don’t you agree?”

She closes the lid to the laptop, with its fan working overdrive. She can’t work on that old thing. “Thank you, Parker.”

“No thanks necessary. It’s a job.” I nod at the computer. “You let me know if there’s anything you need to complete it.”