Page 53 of Winter Break

Who is it? Have you ever met this guy?

Nah. He moved to London or something before I was born. Just moved back, I guess. Should be an interesting drive home. Anyway. Get yourself all pretty for Thursday. Operation Turner is going down!

… Literally

Of course, he followed that up by sending a stream of eggplant and water splash emojis. I ignored them.

No need to get pretty. I cut off my hair a few weeks ago.

Oh yeah. I forgot. I did see that in Insta.

Your man bun will be missed. We’ll have to pour one out for our third best friend.

LOL. As long as we’re not pouring (or drinking) Redheaded Sluts.

Never again!

See you soon, Baldy.

Have fun driving home with Martin’s friend!

Ugh!

Good luck on your final.

Austin ended the conversation with a heart emoji, a scissor emoji, and a crying emoji. I didn’t know he’d be that hung up about my hair.

I thought about heading back to the beach to find Turner, but Mom had blocked my car in the driveway, and my bike was in the garage. There was no way to slip out without being detected, and I didn’t want to make a big deal about it. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to go at all.

Instead, I plastered a smile on my face and went down to dinner with my parents. On the landing, I could hear Dad. I paused and listened.

“It’s not a success, Leila.”

“It’s only been one season. Give it time. Give him time. The offer is out there, Chris. What more can you do?”

“I don’t even think the agreement’s legal, Leila. You know the original owners had a daughter. And who is this Wyatt guy that Anita ran off with? Why did she sign the place over to the kid now, right after he showed up? It’s all very fishy.”

“We’ve been over this. Wyatt is her long-lost friend, or boyfriend, I guess. She’s happy traveling with him, and she was always going to turn the building over to Turner. So she bumped up the timeline. It’s none of our business.”

“But if it’s not legal …”

“Chris! Listen to yourself. She owned the building; she signed it over to Turner. End of story.”

It had been a while since I’d been privy to that particular conversation, but my dad had remained fairly obsessed over ownership of One Hundred Four Breakwater Avenue, and I guess it was still something that came up over a steaming bowl of Mom’s ravioli. I made my way downstairs, my heart hammering like it did every time I thought about Turner.

“This again?” I asked, eyeing my parents from over the counter in our galley kitchen.

“Son, I know you don’t understand business.”

“And you don’t understand marine biology.”

Dad nodded in acknowledgment, and possibly disappointment, before continuing.

“You can’t just turn a building over to some college kid …”

“Brett and Turner have been out of college for a long time. And people inherit buildings all the time. Turner and Anita are family. Anita is keeping the building in the family, and Turner intends to continue to run successful businesses from the location.”

“Family,” my dad muttered under his breath. “You think you know all the facts because you two are friends with them.” My dad swung the handful of silverware he was supposed to be taking to the table between my mother and me. “But there are things you don’t know. Things that will make it very easy to prove that Turner Misher, and Anita Madsen before him, were never the true owners of One Hundred Four.”