Sapphire Beach Paperback Bundle (Books 1-4), Paperbacks

Condos and Corpses: Chapter 1

“Honey, are you sure you don’t want me to stay longer to help you clean out the condo?” Josephine Petretta asked, as her daughter yanked her suitcase from the trunk and dropped it onto the sidewalk outside the JetBlue check-in area at Southwest Florida International Airport.

“I’m positive, Mom,” Connie said, giving her mother a grateful hug. “If we go through Auntie Concetta’s belongings together, we’ll get sidetracked at every photo and memory. I promise to save everything that has sentimental value.”

Jo reluctantly pulled up the handle of her own designer suitcase.

“Connie’s got this, Mom,” Gianna insisted, pulling her own luggage from the trunk and gently embracing her older sister. “Let her do it. It would be too emotional for you, and besides, we have a business to get back to.” Jo and Gianna owned a home staging company that they had already been away from for too long.

Connie was grateful that her mom and sister had made the road trip down to Sapphire Beach, Florida, with her, especially since her father had to stay behind in Boston for work. Time passed more quickly during the twenty-four-hour drive with her mother and sister to talk to, even if she had to share the radio. And she needed her car to bring home any possessions the family might want to keep, especially her aunt’s extensive scrapbook collection. It was a treasure the family valued now more than ever.

The excursion had also provided a much-welcomed opportunity, now that the probate process was complete, to spend a few final days together in a place that meant so much. Jo’s sister, Concetta, who had been a retired actress before passing away six months prior after a brief battle with colon cancer, had lived in Sapphire Beach for the past fifteen years, and it held precious memories of countless family vacations and holidays.

It would also provide the perfect backdrop for Connie to give some thought to her future. She had treasured every minute of her time with Feeding the Hungry, the non-profit agency where she worked for the past eleven years. She had been an integral part of the small team since the beginning, when her boss and mentor, Sam O’Neil, founded the organization to bring aid to impoverished villages in developing countries. However, lately, since the organization had become more established, site visits were fewer and farther between and much of Connie’s time was spent organizing fundraising events, coordinating volunteers, and managing the donor database – worthwhile work for sure, just not the best use of Connie’s talents and interests.

In addition, her best friend, Bethany, would soon be getting married and moving to Colorado with her new husband, where they had jobs lined up teaching skiing at one of the resorts. Beth had been itching for a change and with all the time they spent together, it was rubbing off on Connie.

As her mother and sister passed through the large glass doors leading into the terminal, Connie gave them a heartfelt wave. Then she hopped back into her silver Jetta and onto Route 75 South, toward the town of Sapphire Beach and her deceased aunt’s oceanfront condo – a condo that now belonged to Connie.

Connie, Jo, and Gianna had been Concetta’s only living relatives. She was divorced and never had children, but she always said she couldn’t have loved Connie and Gianna any more if they were her own. She left her condo, with its stunning views of the Gulf of Mexico, to Connie, her namesake, while Jo and Gianna inherited her substantial investment portfolio. She also left a hefty sum to Feeding the Hungry. Jo liked to say that the only thing larger than Concetta’s personality was her heart.

Within twenty minutes of pulling off the highway, Connie was on Sapphire Beach Boulevard. She rolled down the windows and allowed the clean, salty air to fill her lungs. Sapphire Beach had always been her happy place.

The temperature was in the high sixties, typical for an early January morning in southwest Florida, and the sun beat down through the sunroof. She would definitely miss the warm Florida weather when she went back to Boston. She smiled, remembering all the times her aunt had called her in the middle of a blizzard just to say that she was walking the beach or sitting outside having lunch. “What are you doing, sweetie?” Concetta would ask in a teasing tone, knowing full well that Connie was most likely shoveling her car out from under a mountain of snow.

About two miles down Sapphire Beach Boulevard, Connie turned into the entrance of Palm Paradise, the high rise where her aunt had lived. Coconut palm trees flanked the long driveway leading to the white fourteen-story high rise where her aunt had found so much peace in the final years of her life. An array of flowers, including blue daze, bougainvillea, and graffiti rose decorated the front of the building, beckoning guests and residents into the luxurious lobby. It filled Connie with warmth to know that her aunt had found such an amazing place to call home.

She pulled up to the entrance of the underground garage, punched in the access code, and pulled her car into #33. Each unit had its own underground parking space, with a storage unit attached, and a second outdoor space in the front parking lot, next to where visitors parked.

Not wanting to wait for the elevator, Connie climbed the stairs to the lobby and walked across the polished marble tile to the mailboxes. These days, all that was ever in her aunt’s box was junk mail, but she was glad it was empty. One less thing to deal with today.

As she waited for the elevator, under a gold starburst chandelier, her mind went to the day’s tasks. Today she would clean the condo from top to bottom, so that she could get the realtor her mother had researched to come by as soon as possible. True to her Italian-American upbringing, Aunt Concetta’s place was usually so clean you could eat off the floors. However, since it had been empty for six months, it was in need of a thorough cleaning. Her aunt would roll over in her grave if Connie let anyone see her home looking less than pristine. So today she would focus on making the condo sparkle.

Connie’s thoughts were interrupted when a friendly voice called from behind. “Sweetie, hold that elevator a second while I grab my mail.” It was Grace Jenkins, Concetta’s floormate and close friend, carrying a few bags from Publix. A strand of gray hair fell across her tan face.

Grace had moved to Sapphire Beach from Ohio after losing her husband in a car accident and had lived at Palm Paradise for almost as long as Concetta. With their zest for life and adventurous spirits, the two became fast friends, and Grace quickly became like another aunt to Connie and Gianna. She had been a godsend during Concetta’s illness, staying with her day and night right up until the end.

“Here, let me help you with those. My hands are empty,” Connie said, taking a couple of the bags from Grace.

“Thanks, honey.” Grace’s brown eyes teared up. “Truthfully, I didn’t really need groceries today, but I wanted to keep busy. Some days are just harder than others. This morning I picked up the phone to call Concetta before I remembered she was no longer there. Can you imagine, even six months later?”

Connie’s throat tightened. “Grace, there’s no way we can thank you enough for being such an amazing friend to my aunt, especially in her final months.”

She put her hand up. “Honey, there is no other place I would have been. Concetta wanted to spend her final months at home, and I was happy to do everything I could to help make that happen.”

Just then, a gray-haired man with bright blue eyes burst into the main entrance of the lobby. His black button-down shirt with a palm tree print was tucked into light gray shorts.

He made a beeline for the small office just off the lobby, where Jessica, an employee of the condo’s management company, kept office hours. When she saw him coming, she stood up and met him just outside the doorway. “What is wrong with you people?” he asked loudly enough for Connie and Grace to hear. “The corridors should be vacuumed by now, and the trash receptacles in the garage are nearly overflowing. Please see to it that this is taken care of, pronto.”

Jessica’s shoulders stiffened, and she forced herself to look him in the eye. “The cleaning crew is due here momentarily, Mr. O’Rourke. But I’ll be sure to relay your complaints to the office. Again.”

“See to it that you do. And kindly inform your supervisor that if he can’t handle this building, there are plenty of companies that can,” he said, heading toward Connie and Grace.

Connie cast a sympathetic glance in the young woman’s direction.

Jessica shook her head slightly and returned to the office, while the man joined Connie and Grace in the elevator.

“Making friends again, Hank?” Grace said, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t care about making friends,” he said. When he noticed Connie, he seemed to calm down a bit. “I take seriously my election to the condo association by the fine residents of Palm Paradise. The management company’s negligence is a reflection on me, you know, and I won’t stand for it.”

Grace pressed seven for her and Connie, followed by ten, presumably for Hank, who was now blatantly checking Connie out. The top two buttons of his palm tree shirt were undone, revealing a thick gold chain. She turned her head so that he wouldn’t see her smirk. Or worse, misinterpret it for interest.

“Well, who do we have here?” he said with a wink, self-importance oozing from his expression.

Staring daggers at him, Grace put a protective arm around Connie’s shoulder.

“You better keep your dirty paws off her, Hank,” Grace barked. “This is Concetta’s niece, and she’s only here to get her aunt’s condo ready to sell.” Her voice had risen a couple of octaves.

Hank didn’t take his hungry gaze off Connie. “Darling, I’m so sorry for your loss. Your aunt was a wonderful woman.” Grace relaxed her arm as the elevator door opened on the seventh floor.

“That’s about the only thing we agree on,” she said, ushering Connie out.

“If you need a break,” Hank said as the elevator door closed between them, “I’d be happy to take you on a cruise down the beach in my convertible.”

As soon as the doors closed Connie had to laugh. “Is that guy for real? I feel like I need a shower after that conversation!”

But Grace wasn’t laughing. She looked fit to be tied.

They made their way down the hallway and stopped at Grace’s door.

“Don’t worry about me, Grace. I can handle guys like that,” Connie said, depositing Grace’s grocery bags just inside her door.

“I’m sure you can. You are Concetta’s niece after all. Just be on guard when Hank O’Rourke’s around. He’s relentless with my daughter Stephanie.”

She thanked Grace for the warning and continued down the hallway to the next door. Taking a deep breath, Connie slowly unlocked the door to her aunt’s – now her – condo.