She hadn’t been convinced. “I want the master on the second floor.”

“Where will the kids sleep?”

She’d rolled her eyes, then turned away, tucking a strand of short blond hair behind her ear. She hadn’t been about to get trapped in that discussion again. Del wanted kids; she wasn’t ready. He wanted the master up, she wanted it down. He wanted her home and cooking dinner and she wanted a career. They hadn’t agreed on the Miller house, nor on anything else of importance.

Josie leaned back in the front seat of her car and closed her eyes. “Oh, Del, what were we thinking?” Their three-year marriage had been one long argument punctuated by great sex. In fact, they’d currently been divorced as long as they’d been married. So what on earth was she doing in Beachside Bay?

“Closure,” she murmured to herself, opening her eyes and starting her car engine.

Yes, she and Del were divorced. From what she’d heard, while he hadn’t remarried he’d certainly moved on with his life. She had, too, or so she’d thought until her accident a year before. Del had been her last thought before she’d slipped into unconsciousness and her first thought upon waking in the hospital. He’d been on her mind on and off through the past twelve months of surgery, physical therapy and more surgery. Obviously, she wasn’t as over him as she’d thought.

So here she was, back where the trouble had begun. All she wanted was a couple of quick conversations with her ex so that she could put her past behind her. A simple plan, but one that wasn’t going to work if she didn’t have the courage to go talk to him.

“So do it now,” she ordered herself as she slipped the car into gear, checked the mirrors and road ahead before pulling out onto the quiet side street.

She drove the scant three miles to the offices of Scott Construction. As she did she was assaulted by memories of living in the sleepy seaside town. Beachside Bay was directly west of San Jose but light years from anything remotely resembling a burgeoning economy. The main residents were college kids and retirees who actually existed in peaceful acceptance. Funky restaurants and elegant bed and breakfasts pulled in the vacation crowd, but there wasn’t enough industry to keep the tourists longer than a weekend or two a year.