Sasha finished wiping the order counter, where sticky rings from her fruity drinks always seemed to be. It was mid-afternoon, and a lull had hit. Tawny had texted that morning after her beach yoga class.
A simple message, really. So? Beach Club at three. Update wanted.
So? Beach Club at three. Update wanted.And Sasha had an update. She tossed the washcloth into the sink at the back of the stand and untied her apron. “Maddy, I’m running out for an hour. You’ll be okay?”
The thirty-year-old Polynesian woman waved the hand holding the knife. She tossed a smile over her shoulder and said, “Go. I’ll be fine,” and continued chopping pineapple.
Relief rushed through Sasha that she’d found Maddy last summer. The woman had saved Sasha so much stress when it came to The Straw. She worked hard, a
