Cara looked up from her dessert.
“As it happens,” David went on, “Bo and Heather want to stay on Dewees.”
“No surprise there. They love it.”
“And you know they love the house, maybe more than I do. So, if you agree, I’d like to give them the house.”
“Of course! It’s your house to do with what you wish. I’m sure they’re thrilled.”
“They are,” he added, obviously pleased with her reaction. “But every decision will be ours to make. Together. So, yes, if you agree, I want to give it to Heather. She’s my only child, after all. Other than Hope,” he hastened to add. “I don’t think our girl’s ready to move out yet.”
Cara laughed. “No.”
“Heather will be getting her inheritance early, that’s all. And best of all, she’ll keep a room in the house for Grandpa.”
“And Grandma,” she teased.
“So, we’re agreed? We will give the Dewees house to Heather and Bo.”
“Agreed.”
Satisfied, he returned to his tart. “How’s your house hunting coming along?”
She set down her dessert spoon as the cappuccino arrived. She picked up the frothy cup, took a bracing sip, then carefully returned the cup to the table. “Honestly? I haven’t given it much thought. Work is crazy. It’s the prime season. Then the wedding plans. Is there a hurry?”
“Well, we are getting married in a few months. It takes time to find a house, and then close on it. Furnish it…”
“I understand all that. But the house, work, the wedding. I’m feeling…” She stopped.
“Feeling what?” he asked.
“Rushed.”
He thought about what she’d said, then reached out for her hand. His palm floated in the air over the table. Cara placed her palm in his, felt his strong grasp.
“We have a lifetime to discuss all this.” He smiled. “Other than the wedding, of course. That date is set.”
“That’s a relief. David, I’d like to postpone the house hunt. At least until after the wedding. Summer will be over. Things will feel more settled. We can live in the beach house till we decide—at leisure.”
David was the type of person who, once a course of action was decided upon, acted. At length, he nodded. “Sure.”
“Good,” she said, and it felt like a huge weight fell from her shoulders.
“Just remember, even in the beach house we need a playroom for the kids. Maybe I can put in bunk beds. I can’t see Rory and Hope being separated too much. They’re Mutt and Jeff.”
Cara laughed. “They are that.”
“By the way,” he said with a wry smile, “what do you want to be called? Grandma?”
She almost choked on her coffee. “Good God, no. I’m not a grandmother.”
“You will be.”
She blinked in realization of that fact. “Rory calls me Cara now. That works.” She pulled her cup closer. “I’m just getting used to being called Mother.”
“How about Grandmother Cara?”
“That’s a mouthful for any child. I like Cara. Let’s leave it at that.”
“But that’s your name.”
“Yes, I know.” She stared at him with challenge.
He offered a wry grin. “Don’t get mad at me if I call you Grandma.”
“At your peril.” She picked up her coffee.
He chuckled. “I’ll be happy just to call you Mrs. Wyatt.”
Cara did a double take. “What?” she asked softly. All mirth disappeared. When she returned her cup to the saucer it clattered. “You want me to change my name?”
David blinked, blindsided, and tilted his head. “Of course.” There was a long, uncomfortable pause. “Don’t you want to?”
Cara couldn’t respond right away. She thought for a long moment in a tense silence.
“I’ve been Cara Rutledge for fifty-five years, David. I didn’t change my name when I married Brett. I didn’t expect you’d want me to change my name now.”
David too seemed to be searching for the right words. “I… I suppose I simply assumed you would want to.”
There followed another long silence during which Cara felt sure they were both thinking of the adage to assume makes an ass of u and me.
“David, it’s not that I don’t want to take your name.” She smiled briefly. “It’s a very nice name. And I’m very proud to become your wife. It’s just… I’ve always been Cara Rutledge. My reputation has been built on that name. I’m not sure it’s a coat I can change.”
He paused in thought. “I can understand that. And I can admit I’m a little hurt that you aren’t taking my name. I was looking forward to calling you Mrs. Wyatt.”
She felt a pang. “That can be my nickname.”
David didn’t pretend humor, offering an expression of doubt.
“Well,” Cara said on a sigh, “this has been a most enlightening dinner. You have given me a great deal to think about. Not to mention a few surprises.”
He set his napkin on the table and lifted his hand for the waiter. “Let’s finish up here. I have one more surprise.”
* * *
CARA FLICKED ON the lights inside the beach house and immediately felt the warm sense of familiarity. Her gaze swept around the dear little rooms of the cottage. She loved this house, and the thought of leaving it again was unsettling. David had given her much to think about over dinner. In truth, they’d skirted these issues for the past several months. It was typical of David to grab the bull by the horns and force decisions. She herself was not usually one to waffle. For Cara, procrastination was more an act of resistance. The reality of the marriage was looming large, and though she loved David and had no doubts about her decision to be his wife, the reality of losing her independence again, a hard-won freedom, was giving her cold feet.
David poured two cognacs and carried them to the long white sofa.
“I won’t get up in the morning,” Cara said, seeing the two snifters.
“You won’t have to,” David said, handing her the brandy. “I told Heather we would come by for Hope after lunch.”
She met his gaze over the snifter. “Do you hope to get lucky?”
He half-smiled as his eyes kindled. “I do.”
She chuckled and settled into the length of the sofa. David stretched out on the opposite side, their long legs touching between them. Cara’s head rested against the big cushion, a splash of dark brown against snow white. Her heels were abandoned on the carpet. Across from her, David looked tanned and fit. He’d removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt. She felt his eyes on her.
“I believe,” Cara began coyly, “you said something about a surprise?” She made a show of looking around the room. “I don’t see any packages. A souvenir? Wait. I know! I’m getting my Big Ben tin of tea after all.”
“Rats,” he said. “I forgot. Next time.”
“Promises, promises.”
“But I do have a little something to show I’ve been thinking of you.” He reached over to his jacket and pulled out an envelope from the vest pocket, then handed it across the sofa to her.
Cara had half expected to see a jeweler’s bag emerge from the pocket. “What’s this?” she asked, her curiosity inflamed, taking the thick envelope.
“Open it.”
She made a show of lifting it to test its heft. Then, all joking aside, she opened the envelope. Inside was a sheet of paper. Unfolding it, she saw it was an itinerary. She moved the pages closer to the light to read it through, then looked up, astonished.
“We’re going to New York? To Kleinfeld?”
“It’s supposed to be the biggest wedding dress shop in the country,” he said, his eyes bright with excitement. “I consulted Heather and Emmi. They’re coming along. I got us all tickets and rooms at the Plaza. Hope, too. You can choose not only your dress, but a dress for your flower girl.”
Cara was speechless. Absolutely floored.
David hurried to
add, “Cara, I know you’ve been so busy, and you haven’t found your wedding dress yet. When Emmi told me how stressed you were about it, we cooked up a plan to whisk you away and make it a kind of bachelorette party all in one.”
“Emmi said that, did she?” Cara was going to have words with Emmi.
“I talked to the clerk at Kleinfeld and made you an appointment. I’ll babysit Hope while you girls go shopping. The saleswoman said they have many dresses in your size that can be purchased off the rack, and there’s still time for alterations. Problem solved. What do you think?”
“I think… this is all getting a bit overwhelming,” she said honestly.
“It’s not meant to be. It’s meant to make things easier.” He paused, noting her expression and more, her lack of enthusiasm. “Is there a problem you want to tell me about?”
“Not a problem…”
“Then what?”
Cara felt the intimacy of the moment, and with it, the safety that came from knowing one was loved.
“I’m nervous about a big wedding,” she said. “I’ve just never been one for parties. Put me in a boardroom and I’m at home. But at a party?” She shuddered. “I find chitchat agonizing.”
“This isn’t a party. It’s our wedding,” he said, a hint of hurt entering his voice. “Only the people we love will be there.”
“Yes,” she said, trying to appease him, though that did little to assuage her worry.
David looked at his snifter, swirled the amber liquid. “Is it so wrong for me to want to tell the whole world ‘I got you’?” He looked up.
Cara shook her head and smiled. How could she feel anything but flattered?
He reached out to gently stroke her leg besides his. “Darling, I can see this wedding is more my dream than yours. I was hoping that by me sending you to New York, it might make it easier on you. More fun. With your girls.”
Cara quietly considered this. It was typical of David to try to make her happy in a grand way. Was the gesture controlling or generous? The truth was, she’d been meaning to shop for a dress for a long while, knew she had to find one soon. She was running out of time. She looked across the sofa and saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the hope that he had pleased her.
“Mr. Wyatt, you are the sweetest man. I don’t know what to say.”
David laughed, relief shining in his eyes. “Say yes to the dress!”
Chapter Eleven
Thirty years after the first turtle teams were established on the southeastern coasts of the United States, the numbers of nests are trending upward. Sea turtles reach maturity at thirty years, so the increased number of nests is believed to be, in part, a result of the work of volunteers for the past three decades.
CARA SAT ON the deck of the beach house, lazily stirring her coffee while staring out at the ocean. June was upon them, and with it the onset of the summer season. Spring blooms were past and now the red roses were showing off on the pergola. She enjoyed listening to the hum of a few bees as they hovered for nectar. Eat up, she thought, wishing the dear little pollinators well. Around the ocean-edge deck were big clay pots filled with annuals of showy summer colors. Three more, placed close to the porch door, held her kitchen garden: basil, thyme, sage, rosemary, and parsley.
Saturday might be her favorite day of the week, she thought. It was a day she could do whatever she liked: plant flowers, shop, go to the park with Hope, have a date night with David, or just tuck in and read a book from her tilting to-be-read pile.
Not that she didn’t love her job. She was dedicated to the mission of bringing conservation awareness to the public. Loved the South Carolina Aquarium and everyone associated with it. Was proud of the sea turtle hospital. She never walked into the hospital without thinking of how her mother would’ve been so proud of it.
The sea turtle season was well underway too. By the end of only the first week of June, they already had seven nests on Isle of Palms and two on Sullivan’s Island. An exciting start that hinted at a record-breaking season. There was always the hope at the dawn of every season that the year would be a good one. She supposed farmers thought the same, vintners, anyone looking toward a crop that would prove fruitful. Cara liked to think that the turtles coming back this season to nest were hatchlings that her mother had helped reach the sea.
Even though Cara couldn’t be at the nests most mornings, she’d still been granted an SCDNR permit. Everyone understood that Cara was royalty on the Island Turtle Team. Lovie was one of the state’s original “sea turtle ladies,” a group of women who acted individually to help the sea turtles as they nested on their beaches long before the SCDNR teams were established. But more, Cara was working at the aquarium, helping sea turtles in a different and equally important way. The team was a family.
Thinking of family, Cara looked along the deck and saw Hope sitting in the shade of the pergola, concentrating on putting together her Legos. Her brows were knitted as she created some sort of building. Hope had a strong attention span, which Cara knew would serve her well in the future. Someday in the not-too-distant future, Cara would teach Hope, as Lovie had taught her, about the nesting saga of the sea turtles. And someday, when Cara passed on, Hope would carry the torch. Mother to daughter to granddaughter, the legacy would continue.
“Cara?”
Cara looked up from the papers on the teak patio table, following the sound of the voice. She saw Linnea walking around the house toward them.
“Hello!” Cara called out, delighted to see her niece.
Linnea climbed the few steps to the deck. “I rang and knocked, but no one came to the door. I’m sorry if I’m barging in.”
“Not at all. I didn’t hear. It’s a perfect day, so we’re taking advantage of sitting outdoors. I feel cooped up in the air-conditioning all the time.” She stepped forward to place a kiss on Linnea’s cheek. “It’s always a treat to see you. Would you like some coffee? Or something cold to drink?”
“No, I’m good. I just had lunch. I got your message and came right over.” She went over to the shaded area under the pergola and crouched down beside Hope. “What are you making?”
“I’m building a house,” Hope replied matter-of-factly, not taking her eyes off the toys.
“Just like your uncle Palmer,” Linnea exclaimed. When Hope didn’t seem to understand, Linnea turned and pointed to the house across the road. “See that big house over there that’s getting built? My daddy is building that house. It’s kind of like Legos, only big. It’s very important to put the pieces together in just the right way. Like you’re doing.”
Hope nodded and smiled. “Wanna play with me?”
“Can I watch? I want to talk to your mama.”
“Okay.” Hope turned back to her building, her concentration intense.
Linnea kissed the top of Hope’s head, then joined Cara at the teak table.
“That was nice,” Cara said as Linnea took a seat beside her. “She adores you.”
“I adore her,” Linnea said, slipping her sunglasses back on. “Maybe you have a future architect there.”
“Maybe. Or just a child who likes to play with blocks. Time will tell.”
“Speaking of the house,” Linnea said, glancing at it in the distance, “it’s coming along nicely.”
“It is,” Cara said with enthusiasm. “It’s even a bit ahead of schedule. I’m so proud of my brother. I think it’s going to be a beautiful house. I love the way it looks rather modest from the street and then it spreads out to this amazing surprise in the back.”
“Like a mullet haircut. Business in front; party in the back.”
Cara burst out with a laugh. “How do you know that? Mullets were before your time.”
“They’re kind of coming back. Sadly…”
“Well, not too much partying for your father,” Cara said. “He needs to stay all business. A lot is at stake for him. I hope he does as well with the interiors.”
“Mama is helping him there.”
“Then I
have no worries. Julia has impeccable taste. I love what she did with my house.”
“Oh, a funny thing happened the other day,” Linnea began. “Not funny in a ha-ha way, more… curious.” She went on to tell Cara about meeting her new friend Pandora’s grandmother. Cara had to laugh when she described the big, square house, quite the opposite of the one Palmer was building. Her smile faded when Linnea went on to tell her that she’d suggested her mother’s decorating company.
“I didn’t know Julia had a decorating company.”
“I stretched the truth a bit. Maybe a lot. Did I do the right thing?”
“Oh, Linnea,” Cara said, her fingertips tapping the table. Sometimes it was hard being the older and wiser woman. She knew how feelings could get hurt, even with the best of intentions. “You may have crossed a line there. That was your mother’s decision to make. I’ve been burned a few times over the years trying to get Julia involved in projects. She can be headstrong. And she’s been known to hold a grudge. Your mother may be very upset by this.”
“She can always say no,” Linnea countered, appearing suddenly nervous about her decision.
Cara pursed her lips and thought it best not to reply. Linnea was a bright girl and had already figured out her reasoning.
“You know my mother,” Linnea continued, trying to explain. “She’s insecure about her abilities. She’s always the first to step back and let others get all the accolades. I’ve seen her friends accept praise for the decorating of their homes, and not even mention that it was my mother’s doing. Even if she’s standing right there! They all just smiled and took the credit.”
“Everyone knew.…”
“You don’t know that. And does it matter? The point is, Mama needs a little push. I believe in her talent. So do you.” Linnea took a breath, moving into tender territory. “And I don’t think she’s doing so well out here. She misses the city. Fish out of water.”
“I didn’t know that,” Cara said, her concern flashing. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been the best friend.…”
“You’ve got a lot on your plate. We all do. And she’s so very good at covering up. I don’t know if you know that Mama gave up all her committees and boards.
On Ocean Boulevard Page 13