Excerpt of The Sweetheart Bargain by Shirley Jump

Olivia Linscott made the most insane decision of her life in
less time than it took to microwave a burrito. Before she
could think twice, or worse, hesitate, she’d packed what
remained of her belongings into her car, loaded up on gas
and 5-Hour Energy drinks, then ditched her life in
Massachusetts and headed south.

All because a lawyer had shown up on her doorstep with a
mysterious will, a crinkled photograph, and a butterfly
necklace. Olivia’s heritage, reduced to a nine-by-twelve
manila envelope.

Now, forty-eight hours later, she was in sunshine instead of
snow, catching the scent of ocean instead of exhaust.
Outside the Toyota’s window, the Florida coastline curved
like a lazy snake, an undulating ribbon of blue-green
punctuated by soaring seagulls and cresting whitecaps. It
was a million miles away—and a good burst of salty, fresh
air—from the choked, congested streets of Boston, where cars
played Frogger with each other and dodged potholes the size
of small elephants. Down here, Olivia could breathe, really
breathe, in more ways than one.

She pressed the speed-dial button on her cell and waited for
the call to connect. When her mother answered with her
familiar chirpy hello, a wave of homesickness crashed over
Olivia, and for a second she had the urge to turn around, to
head back to everything familiar.

“Olivia! I’ve been waiting for you to call,” her mother
said. “How far are you now?”

“Only another mile or so to go.” Olivia nestled the cell
against her ear. “I’ve been ready to crawl out of my skin
for the last five miles, just dying to get there already.
Maybe I should pull a Boston and put the pedal to the metal
the rest of the way.”

“Olivia Jean, if you do, I’ll fly down there and take away
your car keys,” her mother said, with the same tone she’d
used when Olivia had been little and trying to raid the
cookie jar before dinner. “Even if you are over thirty.”

Olivia laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll keep it to twenty miles
over the speed limit, like any respectable Massachusetts
driver.” On her left, a half-dozen bright, happy shops lined
a wide boardwalk, across the street from the beach. A
white-and-pink awning fronted the Rescue Bay Ice Cream
Stand, a quaint little place with umbrella-covered tables
and a giant plastic cow sporting a bright pink bow. An
elderly couple enjoying swirled cones—one chocolate, one
vanilla—raised a hand in greeting as Olivia drove past. She
returned an awkward wave, just as a man walking his dog
raised his hand in greeting and a shopkeeper sweeping the
walk did the same. The instant welcoming atmosphere gave
Olivia pause. It wasn’t that Bostonians were frigid,
exactly, but rather less overt in being neighborly.

There was something . . . warm about this town, something
Olivia had liked the second she arrived. “Ma, you should see
this place. It’s like another planet.”

“Well, we’re still stuck on planet Arctic here. It’s too
darn cold to even look out the window, never mind go
anywhere.” Anna Linscott was no doubt bundled up by the
fireplace in her Back Bay townhome. Olivia could see her
now, sitting in the threadbare rose-patterned armchair Anna
had owned since the day she got married, the blue-and-green
afghan Nana Linscott had crocheted draped across her lap.
“There was a ring around the moon last night. A storm is
coming. I’m thinking three inches, maybe four.”

“It’s January and you’re in New England. There’s always a
snowstorm coming.”

Anna laughed. “True. But if I see a ladybug—”

“And she lands on your hand, spring is on its way.” Olivia
grinned at her mother’s superstitious weather predicting.
Half the time, Anna was more accurate than the guys at
Channel 7, so maybe there was something to her folklore.
Olivia glanced out the window again, drawing in another deep
breath of balmy air. “This is bliss. Palm trees and beaches
and—”

“Alligators and geckos.”

“They won’t bother you if you don’t bother them.” Olivia
fingered the picture taped to her dash. A perfect Florida
bungalow, painted in sherbet colors of pale yellow and soft
salmon, trimmed in white, nestled in the middle of a neat
yard, flanked by rows of blooming annuals and fruit-laden
citrus trees. “Mom, do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

“I think you have to do this.” Anna sighed, a mixture of
support and worry. “Then maybe you’ll finally have the
answers you need, and deserve.”

Olivia’s finger danced across the picture again. Would she?
All her life, Olivia had felt like a lock without the right
key, a puzzle missing a piece. Now, maybe here, she’d find
what she was searching for.

Herself.

And if not, she’d at least get one hell of a tan.