“It is gorgeous,” Parker agreed. “I hoped it would be, that it wasn’t just the pictures. And it’s so private. Oh, and look at the sand and the water, and the pond and everything!”

Together they studied the rooflines, the long span of windows, the charm of decks, the fancy of the cupolas.

She spotted a tennis court, a swimming pool as Parker followed the private drive to the front of the house.

Laurel realized it was moments like this that reminded her Del and Parker weren’t rich. They were wealthy.

“I love the angles of it,” Laurel said. “You’ll be able to see the water—ocean or pond—from any room.”

“It’s partially on a preserve. Del and I wanted to be a part of that. Keeping it pristine, protecting it. He found it, and it’s just exactly right.”

“I can’t wait to see the rest.” Even as she spoke, Del stepped out on the front deck, and started down. And for that moment, she forgot the rest.

He looked so relaxed—khakis, tee, bare feet. The sunglasses couldn’t disguise the pleasure on his face.

She got out first, and he held out a hand for hers as he walked to her. “There you are,” he said and gave her an easy greeting kiss.

“Nice little beach shack.”

“I thought so.”

Parker stepped out, took a long look at the house, turned, took another at the water, the views. Nodded. “Good job.”

He lifted his arm, so she went over to slide under it, and for a moment the three of them stood, the breeze wafting and the house spread out before them.

“I think it’ll do,” Del decided.

The others arrived, and with them noise, movement, choruses of approval and curiosity as they started unloading the cars and hauling luggage and supplies.

The impressions came fast—sun and space, glossy wood, soft colors. Out of every window stretched water and sand, solitude and sanctuary, the offer of a spot to sit or a path to wander.

High ceilings and the easy, open flow from one room to the next added an appealing touch of the casual to the simple elegance of furnishings. A place, Laurel thought, you’d be comfortable with your feet up, or sipping champagne in formal wear.

The Browns, she admitted, simply had a way.

The kitchen brought her an instant surge of pleasure with its acres of straw-colored counters. The textured glass cabinet doors showcased cheerful Fiestaware in a celebration of mixed colors and the sparkle of stemware. Opening the pot drawers she hummed her approval of the selection of pots and pans. Surrounding the sinks, the tall, bowing windows opened the room to the beach and the crash of waves.

Even as she took stock she heard Jack let out a crow. “Pinball!”

Which meant there was likely a game room somewhere, but at the moment, she was more interested in the kitchen, the airy dining area, the proximity to the deck for outdoor eating.

Del passed her an icy margarita. “As promised.”

“Oh boy.” She took the first frosty sip. “It’s officially vacation.”

“I staked out a bedroom. Do you want to see it?”

“Absolutely. Del, this place is ... a lot more than I had in my head.”

“In a good way?”

“In an ‘I’m stupefied’ way.”

She peered into rooms as they passed. Sunroom, what she supposed was a morning room, living room, powder rooms. Then up the bare wood steps to the second floor into a bedroom with a wall of windows facing the ocean. She instantly imagined herself lazily lounging in the iron bed with its open canopy and crisp white bedding. Gauzy curtains fluttered in the breeze in the doors he’d opened to the deck.

“It’s beautiful. Just beautiful. And listen.” She closed her eyes and let the rolling whoosh of the ocean wash over her.

“Check this out.”

He gestured, and she walked into the bath.

“Okay” She laid a hand on his arm, patted it several times. “Okay. I may live right here. I may never come out of this room.”

The huge tub reigned in front of another wall of windows and on tiles the color of golden sand. Through clear glass she admired the shower with its multiple heads and body jets, its marble bench.

“Steam shower,” he told her, and she nearly whimpered.

Generous bowls the color and shape of scallop shells served as sinks. The wall at the foot of the tub boasted a little gas fireplace and a flat screen TV so her imagination shifted from lazy lounging in the bed to lazy lounging in bubbling water.

Mirrored cabinets reflected the tile, the shine of the fixtures, the expanse of counters, the pretty watercolors arranged on the walls.

“This bathroom’s bigger than my first apartment.”

Mac rushed in, wild-eyed, arms waving. “The bathroom, the bathroom. It’s ... Wow, look at this one. Never mind. The bathroom!” she said again and rushed out as she’d rushed in.

“I think you have a solid hit,” Laurel told Del.

Within the hour, the grill smoked and the entire group gathered on the deck. Or Laurel assumed the entire group until she glanced around.

“Where’s Parker?”

“Taking a solo tour.” Emma sighed, sipped her slushy drink. “Making notes.”

“I wouldn’t change a thing.” Behind her enormous sunglasses and wide-brimmed hat, Mac wiggled bare toes. “Not one thing. I wouldn’t move from this spot for the next two weeks except there are so many other incredibly cool spots I need to be lazy in.”

“We need to check out the beach.” Jack took Emma’s hand to kiss.

“We definitely do.”

“It’s a great area for bird-watching,” Carter said. “I spotted a Cory’s Shearwater when I walked down earlier. And ...” He trailed off, flushed a little. “Geek alert.”

“I like birds,” Emma said, and reached over to pat his hand. “I’m going to give you some help with dinner any minute now, Del.”

“I’ve got it.” Laurel pushed herself up. “That way, one of the pair of you takes it next time we want dinner in. I’ll go throw something together to go with the steaks.”

Besides, she wanted to play in the kitchen.

Parker came in as Laurel tossed chunks of steamed new potatoes in butter, garlic, and dill.

“Need a hand?”

“Under control. Del must’ve hit a farmer’s market on the way in. Pretty smart of him.”