Instead of answering her, Booker stood, picked up the camera he’d slung over the back of his chair, aimed, and started shooting photos of the group around the table.

“It is your grandmother’s,” he told her.

“But…” Julia sputtered. “Mama left it to my brother Joe.”

“And your sister-in-law decided it was hideously old-fashioned,” Booker said, planting yet another kiss on Julia’s cheek. “I’d e-mailed to ask if there was a piece of family jewelry he might be willing to part with, in the remote event that you would ever agree to get married, and he was only too happy to let me take this off his hands.”

“You!” Julia squealed. She got up, backed him into a chair and then planted herself on his lap, kissing him passionately.

“Get a room,” Dorie called.

After lunch, as the group was filing out of the restaurant, Booker pulled Ellis aside.

“Great news,” he said. “Simon texted me just as we were getting in the car to drive over here. The producers loved the scouting shots. He’s flying in with them first thing Monday to work on lining up the rest of the locations. Have you told Ty about any of this?”

“That’s so great,” Ellis said, trying to refrain from squealing. “I haven’t talked to Ty, he’s been gone all day. But I’ll call him right away and let him know you need to talk to him.”

“Good, because Simon says the whole production schedule’s been sped up. It’s supposed to be top secret, but one of the leading ladies just disclosed that she’s pregnant.”

“I wonder which one,” Ellis said, watching Dorie climb into the driver’s seat of the red van. “Um, Booker, do you have any idea how much the movie people will pay to use the house?”

“Nope,” Booker said. “That’s something Ty will need to negotiate.”

*   *   *

It was close to six when Ellis saw the Bronco pull into the garage. A few minutes later, her phone dinged, announcing the arrival of a text message.

COCKTAILS ON MY VERANDA? MR. CULPEPPER.

She grinned and texted back:

B RITE OVER.

Ellis pulled on a pair of white shorts and a scoop-necked lime green top that made her tan look golden. After slicking on some lip gloss and spritzing on some perfume, she strolled over to the garage apartment.

Ty was just emerging from the shower, a beach towel wrapped around his waist, when she got to the top of the deck stairs.

“Oh,” she said, blushing. “Uh, guess I’m early.”

He laughed at her modesty and pulled her to him. He was still damp from the shower, but she didn’t mind at all that her top and spotless white shorts were getting equally damp.

“There’s some beer and a bottle of white wine in the fridge,” he told her. “And I think I’ve got some chips and salsa, if you’re hungry. I’ll get dressed and be out in a minute.”

Ellis set out the chips and salsa, poured herself a glass of wine, and took it out to the deck. She stood at the rail, looking out at the beach, which was mostly deserted now, with the exception of two adolescent boys riding skimboards at the water’s edge.

She’d noticed the boys earlier in the morning and realized they’d spent the whole day lounging on the beach, playing Frisbee, and now skimboarding. It was probably their last free weekend before school started, Ellis realized, feeling that prickle of sadness again. She couldn’t remember when she’d been so sad to see the end of summer.

Ty was behind her now, his arms around her waist, kissing her neck. “You smell good,” he said, breathing in her scent. “Is that for me?”

“All for you,” she said, turning to return his kiss.

They sat companionably in the teak Adirondack chairs, sipping their drinks and catching up.

“I know you hate swordfish, but how do you feel about grouper?” Ty asked. “A buddy of mine called me early this morning and asked if I wanted to crew on his charter. That’s where I’ve been all day. We caught the hell out of the grouper and snapper.”

“I love grouper,” Ellis said. “Are we having dinner?”

“Thought I’d try to impress you with my culinary skills,” he said. “You’re not one of those girly girls who won’t eat fried fish, are you?”

“Not me,” Ellis said.

He nodded approvingly. “Okay. Fried grouper sandwiches and coleslaw for dinner. You’re in charge of the coleslaw.”

“I can do that,” Ellis said, following him into the kitchen. “But first, I’ve got a proposition for you.”

43

“Summer Fling could be the thing that saves Ebbtide,” Ellis said, outlining what Booker had told her about his friend Simon. “A big Hollywood movie. If they use your house for filming, they’d probably pay enough in rent to get you out of the hole.”

Ty gazed out the kitchen window at the big house. “But Ebbtide’s a wreck. You said so yourself. Who would want to shoot a movie here?”

“Apparently they like what they’ve seen,” Ellis insisted. “Starting with the crummy pictures Julia took with her cell phone, and including the professional-quality photos Booker’s been taking for the past couple of days. Maybe the movie’s about an old house. They make movies like that all the time, and they can’t all be filmed from specially built sets.”

“I guess,” Ty said, placing the flour-coated grouper into a cast-iron skillet full of bubbling oil. “I never go see movies anymore. Probably the last one I saw was Die Hard 2.”

Ellis buttered the hamburger buns and put them in the tiny oven to brown. “Well, I see lots and lots of chick-type movies, and I can tell you that my favorite ones are the ones where the houses are as much a character in the plot as the actors. And,” she added, “with the actresses that have supposedly already been signed for Summer Fling, it sounds like a really big-budget flick.”

With a long-handled fork, Ty flipped over each of the fish fillets. “You like tartar sauce, or do you wanna try my super-secret sauce?”

“What’s your super-secret sauce?”

“If I tell you that, it won’t be a super secret, now will it?”

“What if I swear not to tell?” Ellis asked. “Pinky swear?”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Ty said, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her.

“And the secret?” Ellis asked, stepping away from his reach.

“Bottled chili sauce, lemon juice, horseradish, and Duke’s mayo,” Ty said.

He laid out the grouper on a brown paper grocery store sack to drain, deftly mixed up his sauce, and five minutes later, they’d pushed aside the papers on the tiny dining table/desk to eat.

“Mmm,” Ellis said, biting into her sandwich. “I am officially impressed. This might be the best grouper sandwich I’ve ever had. And growing up in Savannah, I’ve had a lot.”

Ty lifted a forkful of coleslaw. “This slaw’s not too shabby either. How’d you make the dressing? It’s not mayonnaisey, which I like.”

“It’s my mama’s recipe, and my daddy taught her how to make it,” Ellis confided. “You just sprinkle sugar and salt on the shredded cabbage, and you crunch it together with your hands ’til the cabbage kinda ‘weeps.’ Then you heat up some apple cider vinegar on the stove, and put in some more sugar and some celery seed. You just pour that over the cabbage while it’s still warm, mash it around with a wooden spoon, and put it in the fridge. It’s even better if you let it sit a day or so.”

“We make a decent team,” Ty said, resting his elbows on the table. He looked around the room. “Apparently, somebody broke in here today and cleaned the joint up. They even did my laundry. You ever hear of a burglar doing that?”

“It was me,” Ellis admitted. “Don’t know what came over me. I was so excited about this movie thing, I ran over here this morning to tell you about it. I let myself in, and I kinda got carried away.” She flashed him an apologetic grin. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Why not? I mean, who am I to tamper with your domestic urges?”

“Oh my gosh,” Ellis said, setting her fork down. “I completely forgot! You had a visitor while I was here cleaning up. So much has happened today—what with Julia and Booker getting engaged, and the movie stuff—it totally slipped my mind.”