Free Down and Out in Flamingo Beach by Marcia King-Gamble

holding something that looked like a photo album; the nails were meticulously trimmed, not a hint of dirt under them. It was hard to believe construction was his profession.
    She stood for a moment looking up at him, feeling completely dwarfed and more than a little overwhelmed. She needed to move, get away from him. Right now Derek was just too much man for her. She hadn’t been this ruffled by anyone since Quen.
    â€œCan I get you something? Coffee, a beer?”
    â€œWater if you have it. Nice place.”
    â€œIt’s not mine. I rent.” Joya headed toward the kitchen to get Derek his water.
    â€œNice view,” Derek said, stalking toward the window wall that looked directly out onto Flamingo Beach. He set his photo album down on the coffee table. “It’s especially great when you don’t have something like a boardwalk creating an obstruction.”
    Joya returned to hand him a cold bottle of water. “I hope that brand’s okay.”
    â€œIt’s fine with me. Water is water.”
    â€œHave a seat,” Joya said, wanting to get as far from him as physically possible. He really did make her nervous, something she didn’t understand.
    Derek sat on the mint-green couch, legs splayed out in front of him.
    â€œYou mentioned you wanted to have a commemorative quilt made up for your great-grandmother’s birthday,” Joya prompted.
    â€œYes, Nana Belle is turning one hundred at almost the same time as this town is celebrating its hundredth birthday. I’ve planned a big birthday party and I’ve been wracking my brain trying to come up with a practical yet special gift. When I saw your quilts today they seemed like they would make the perfect gift.”
    â€œA custom quilt is the ideal gift for someone as special as your great-grandmother. She’s something of an icon in this town.” An idea was beginning to percolate in the back of Joya’s mind. Being that the centennial was coming up, if Joya’s Quilts could sell commemorative quilts she’d bet they’d rake in the money. The tourists would love it, and if she took orders in advance and got deposits the store could stay in the black. She made a mental note to discuss the idea with the quilting guild. It would mean lots of work for them as well.
    â€œMay I?” Joya asked, reaching for the family album that Derek had laid on her coffee table.
    â€œSure.”
    Eagerly she leafed through the scrapbook: pictures of Nana Belle as a young girl, her five marriages, the births of her children, their graduations, birthday parties, weddings and deaths. All the important passages of life were celebrated in the pages of that book. There were newspaper articles, menus from restaurants, wedding invitations, death announcements and photographs of Flamingo Beach at various stages of development. There were pictures of Nana Belle’s home as it had started off as a two-room cabin then grown and grown. Here was the old lady’s whole life encapsulated in one book. Joya’d bet anything Belle had some good stories to tell.
    Heat settled in her cheeks as Joya sensed Derek watching her. She closed the album and handed it back to him.
    â€œThink of the quilt as scrapbooking, it would be a gradual progression of Nana Belle’s life and something she will forever treasure,” Joya said.
    â€œShe’d like that,” Derek seemed contemplative. “We could scan images, articles etc. right onto the cloth.”
    â€œExactly.”
    Joya ventured a look at Derek. His toffee-colored eyes held her gaze for a second too long. She was the first to look away. She couldn’t deny the attraction, but Derek Morse wasn’t what she was looking for. She wanted someone more ambitious; a man who was going to go places and take her with him. As Granny J was fond of saying, romance without finance is a nuisance. Joya had been there and done that. It wasn’t a place she ever wanted