Love on Lavender Island (A Lavender Island Novel Book 2) by Lauren Christopher

He’d resented her fierce independence. And he’d resented the fact that he’d had to stay on this land to keep it in her family. Of course, he’d made the best of it. He’d created an inn-like resort around the airstrip and made a living through the income it brought. But when the boys were born with their mother’s renegade spirit—that same spirit that longed to be free and propelled them into the sky as soon as they could reach the dials—George seemed to resent them all, both before and after her death. Maybe he’d been worried they’d all be free before he was.
    Adam swiveled his desk chair and reached for his cell phone.
    His buddy Bob picked it up on the first ring.
    “One of the Grants is here,” Adam said.
    Bob had been his father’s accountant for forty years and had always been a father figure to Adam. Even when George was alive, Bob was the one who’d taught Adam to hold doors open for women, helped him get decent car insurance, and knocked him hard once on the back of the head when he saw Adam grab a girl’s ass on the boat dock and told him never, ever to do that in public again. As an old friend of George, Bob also knew George’s indiscretions, his problems, his failings as a father. And he seemed to want to make them up to Adam.
    “Is it Ginger?” Bob asked.
    “No. One of the daughters.”
    “Is that so? Huh. Is she at the resort?”
    “Yeah. I gave her a place to stay.”
    “What’s her plan?” Bob asked.
    Adam relaxed in his chair. “She wants to put on some crazy wedding for Dorothy Silver, and then sell to her.”
    “Dorothy Silver ?”
    “Yeah, do you remember her?”
    “Who wouldn’t?”
    Adam smiled. Bob always had a thing for old screen legends. He still had pinups in his den of Marilyn Monroe and Rita Hayworth, much to the amusement of his wife, Gert. “Well, the daughter, she, uh . . . she wants to use some of the land over the next couple of months and then wants me to sell to Silver, too, at the end of the summer. She says Silver is willing to pay double.”
    The silence that followed confused Adam. He’d expected Bob’s normal bark of laughter, but none came.
    “Bob?”
    “Yeah, I’m thinking. Or maybe remembering. What did you tell her?”
    “I put her off until Thursday, when MacGregor will show up.”
    The lack of response made Adam more uneasy. Bob had been the family’s financial adviser for years, and Adam trusted him completely. The problems they had right now stemmed from Adam’s father ignoring Bob’s advice.
    “So do you think it’s something I should consider?” Adam asked.
    “I could call around and see how serious she is. But with no formal offer, no, it’s not something we should consider. I know you’re in a hurry. MacGregor is paying cash and ready to go—and probate always takes longer, so the cash will move things along. Let me think on it. Oh, hey, Gert wants to talk to you.”
    He heard the muffle of a phone being passed.
    “Adam, dear?”
    “Hey, Gert.”
    “Did you find the flatiron like I told you?”
    “Uh . . . wait, flatiron? I thought you said curling iron.”
    “No, I said flat iron. Girls of Amanda’s generation use flatirons, dear.”
    Adam sighed. Amanda’s birthday was in just a couple of weeks, and Gert had been pushing him to buy her something. Amanda had been crushed about having to leave Alabama so quickly and had left many of her personal items behind. Gert had suggested a few things Amanda had lamented leaving, including a “flatiron.” He’d first pictured something you’d flatten clothes with, but Mr. Fieldstone had pointed him in the direction of hair products. And then he’d forgotten the term. He’d stared at curling irons the whole time, at their different “barrel sizes,” which confused him. Adam had ended up leaving in a huff, perplexed.
    “I’ll go back,” he told Gert. He couldn’t let this defeat him. Certainly he could handle one teenage girl’s birthday present?
    “Okay,