Before the Storm

by Leslie Tentler

  “Nice, Carter. So this whole brotherly get-together was just a scam?” With a cynical release of breath, Mark pushed away his plate and got up from his chair. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet, then tossed enough money on the table to cover their bill and the tip. “I should’ve known as much. Meet me at the car when you’re done.”

  “Mark—”

  “The answer’s no,” he said, his tone hard. “Make that a hell, no.”

  He started toward the parking lot, but instead ended up staring at the beach, his hands braced on the railing of the restaurant’s deck as he tried to get control of his irritation. Below him, people were dressed in bathing suits, walking and playing at the shoreline or lying on brightly colored towels, soaking up the morning sun before the rays got too strong. He breathed in the salty sea air laced with the smell of coconut-scented tanning lotion. Mark turned his head as Carter called after him again before being stopped by another autograph-seeking fan.

  He wasn’t really all that surprised that Luxor Corporation had made an appeal to the other owners of the St. Clair. But it was unbelievable to him that Carter had attempted to parlay his grief over Shelley into a rationale for selling. It seemed that every time he thought Carter had hit a new level of selfishness, he somehow managed to outdo himself.

  “Look, I know I didn’t go about this the right way, but you should at least consider it,” Carter urged as he caught up to him. “It’s a good offer. A damn good one, actually. And the St. Clair doesn’t just belong to you, Mark.”

  Mark’s jaw tightened. “Dad made me majority owner for a reason.”

  “What about Mom and Mercer? Don’t they even get a say in this? We’re talking about a lot of money here. If we all go against you—”

  “I’m not going to discuss this.”

  Carter shoved his hands into his pockets, frowning heavily. “Okay, I get it. No more talk about selling. But you need to understand something, Mark. This wasn’t a scam, as you put it. Despite how everything just sounded, I care about you. You’re my brother. I’m sorry about Shelley…I am. I want to see you get past this.”

  “I am past it.”

  Carter peered pointedly at the gold band Mark still wore on his left hand. “Really? I don’t think you are. And neither is Emily. As long as you’re still holding on to Shelley, she will, too.”

  “Let me worry about Emily—”

  “She’s my niece,” Carter emphasized softly. “And as God is my witness, I asked you to breakfast because I really did want to spend time with just you. It’s been too long, and I miss the way things used to be between us when we were kids. Besides, once I get to the hotel, you know Mom’s going to be on me like shrimp and tasso gravy on grits.”

  Carter nudged his brother’s shoulder, then nudged him again, this time a bit harder. “Don’t stay mad, bro. What if your face freezes like that?”

  Mark looked at him, thinking of the carefree, charismatic brother he’d grown up with. Carter had been an attention-getter even back then, catnip to the fairer sex and able to charm the hind legs off a donkey, as their father used to say. Mark suspected those qualities had only become more refined with age.

  “We’re not selling,” he stated flatly.

  “Message received. But could you do one thing for me?”

  “What?”

  “Introduce me to that long-legged vision jogging with our baby sister.”

  Mark followed the direction of Carter’s gaze, feeling a spiraling disquiet. Sure enough, Mercer and Samantha ran along the shoreline. Samantha’s long, dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she wore a tank top with running shorts.

  “Mercer!” Carter yelled and began waving his arms like a maniac. Mercer stopped and touched Samantha’s shoulder, pointing up to the deck where Mark and Carter stood. Mark ran a nervous hand through his hair as the two women began moving toward them.

  Grinning, Mercer called Carter’s name as she raced up the stairs. She threw her arms around his neck as he grabbed her by the waist and spun her around.

  “I didn’t think you’d be here until tomorrow!”

  “I figured I’d slip in early. Mark picked me up at the airport this morning.” He eyed Samantha, who’d also come up the steps.

  “Sam, meet my other brother, Carter.” Mercer made the introduction. “This is Samantha Marsh, culinary genius and my new running BFF.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Carter smiled like a hungry wolf at a sheep as he took Samantha’s hand.

  “Thanks…you, too.”

  Samantha glanced at Mark, who stood slightly behind Carter. An image of her on the darkened beach and the way things had been left between them caused heat to rush to his face. He wanted to say something to her, but couldn’t figure out exactly what, and it wouldn’t be appropriate in front of the others anyway. Instead, he simply nodded in a silent greeting.

  “We just finished breakfast, but if you ladies want something, I’m sure Mark has time to sit back down,” Carter offered. “How about you, Sam? Some coffee or juice, at least?”

  “No, thanks,” she said, crossing her slender arms over her chest. “I’ve really got to finish this run and be going—”

  “You look familiar. Did you go to school with Mercer?”

  “You can stop fishing. She’s not from around here,” Mercer supplied. “She just moved here from New York City. Small world, right?”

  Carter’s eyebrows rose. “Really? That’s where I live. Have you done any modeling or acting, because maybe we’ve crossed paths—”

  He stopped speaking as a starry-eyed teenager approached, her mother encouraging her from behind.

  “Are you…are you Carter St. Clair?” When he nodded, she shrieked and giggled. “It really is you! I don’t believe this! Can my mom take a picture of us together? Please?”

  “Excuse me for a second.” With an apologetic look at Samantha, Carter walked to the other side of the deck with the teen and looped his arm around her shoulders. He flashed a smile as the girl’s mother began taking shots with her cell phone.

  “Is he someone famous?” Samantha asked.

  “Don’t let him hear you say that.” Mark tried to conceal his smile. “You’ll crush his ego.”

  “Carter St. Clair,” Mercer emphasized. “He’s a soap opera actor. He plays Jake Burton on Friends and Lovers? Don’t tell me you’ve never watched it, Sam. Not even once? He was nominated for a Daytime Emmy last year. His character developed a split personality.”

  “I played identical twins,” Carter corrected as he returned. He sounded a little peeved that even Mercer had gotten the details wrong. “It turned out my character has this evil brother—”

  “I know the feeling,” Mark muttered.

  “Sam used to bartend in Manhattan,” Mercer said. “While she was putting herself through culinary school.”

  “What clubs?” Carter asked.

  Samantha fidgeted. “I moved around to different places. West Thirteenth, Hudson Street—”

  “The Meatpacking District? That’s a hot area. I bet you used to work at Sapphire, didn’t you? It’s known for having the best-looking wait staff in New York. They say if you don’t make it as a Victoria’s Secret model, Sapphire is the next best thing. I can totally see you there.”

  “I did work at Sapphire for a while. It was my last job in New York, actually,” Samantha replied, sounding uneasy.

  “I hear the tips are amazing.”

  “They weren’t bad,” she admitted.

  They talked for a few more minutes, with Carter continuing to ask Samantha questions about her former life in New York until she reminded Mercer they still had another mile to go on their run. As Mercer gave Carter another tight hug, Samantha looked at Mark, her brown eyes uncertain.

  “I still owe you a check for last night,” Mark said. “You left before I could give it to you.”

  She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, appearing as nervous as he felt. “You can drop it in the mail. Or give it
to Mercer before she and I meet up again. We’re going to try to run in the evenings during the week.”

  “Samantha,” Mark said, his voice low. “I—”

  “Okay, then. Let’s go.” Mercer tugged at Samantha’s elbow. Before Mark could finish, his sister began dragging her away. They turned and headed back down the steps to the sand. Mark and Carter watched as the two women picked up their pace and soon disappeared into the throngs of beachgoers.

  “Jesus, I think I’m in love,” Carter murmured.

  Mark pressed his lips together, his only consolation being that Samantha had seemed uninterested in Carter despite his best attempts to charm her. Still, he felt a knot in his stomach. It wasn’t the first time he and his brother had been attracted to the same woman.

  Shelley had been the first.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Mark and Carter have one of those love-hate relationships,” Mercer confided, slightly winded as she jogged alongside Samantha. Their approach caused a trio of egrets fishing at the shoreline to take flight. “They were close growing up, but things got competitive in their teen years. I love Carter like crazy, but he had classic middle-child syndrome, always wanting what his big brother had.”

  “How much older is Mark?” Samantha asked.

  “Two years. Of course, things went from good-natured competition to knock-down, drag-out fighting where Shelley was concerned.”

  They reached the beach parking lot area where Mercer had left her car, a sleek Lexus convertible in cherry red. The women came to a stop, catching their breath. Samantha wiped perspiration from her face with her forearm. “Shelley…that was Mark’s wife, right?”

  Mercer nodded, bending forward with her hands on her thighs before speaking again. “She and Mark were high school sweethearts. But when Mark left for college in Atlanta, Shelley was still here in school. So was Carter.”

  “Oh,” Samantha murmured, realizing where the story was headed.

  “I don’t know what upset Mark more—that Shelley cheated on him or that Carter would actually steal his girlfriend. Let’s just say things were mighty tense for a while in the St. Clair household.”

  Mercer shrugged. “That was all a long time ago, but it changed Mark and Carter’s relationship forever.”

  Samantha thought of the man she had just met. Carter was remarkably handsome, but a little too perfect for her liking. While there were definite physical similarities between the brothers, Carter appeared toned, highlighted and tanned within an inch of his life. She supposed all of it was necessary for his occupation, which in some ways wasn’t unlike her previous life. She felt old remorse pass through her. When Devin had first pressured her to start dancing at his club, he’d told her to pretend she was an actress on stage. Trina Grissom wasn’t taking off her clothes for money—it was simply a character she played. But that mental ploy never worked for her, not that Devin had cared. He’d had other ways to ensure her compliance.

  Body makeup had sometimes been required to cover the bruises.

  “Sam? You still in there somewhere?” Mercer touched her shoulder.

  Realizing she’d zoned out, Samantha shook off the exhumed memory. She gave Mercer a small smile of apology and self-consciously tightened her ponytail. “Sorry, I guess the run tired me out.”

  “You’re living at the Wayfarer Apartments, right? How about I drop you off at your place? You did run over here to meet me this morning. I think you’ve hit your quota on self-punishment for the day.”

  Samantha agreed, and they walked to the car.

  As Mercer got in on the driver’s side, she continued her story. “Things didn’t last too long between Carter and Shelley. She broke it off with him after a few months. I think she was always meant for Mark. It took a little while, but he and Shelley eventually found their way back to each other. They were married for seven years.”

  She frowned as she backed the Lexus from the space. “Losing Shelley nearly destroyed Mark. It was hard on the whole family, actually. We all loved her.”

  “Mark told me she died in a car accident two years ago,” Samantha acknowledged quietly.

  “Is that all he told you?” Mercer stole a glance at her as she made a right turn from the parking lot. When Samantha nodded, she sighed softly. “They were hit by a drunk driver coming back from Spoleto in Charleston.”

  “They? Mark was with her?”

  “And Emily. The driver crossed lanes and hit them head on. Emily was in the back in a car seat and wasn’t hurt, thank goodness. Mark broke his collarbone and had some pretty bad cuts, but Shelley…” She shook her head, her fingers visibly tightening on the steering wheel. “She was pinned inside the wreckage. Mark tried to help her, but she died at the scene right in front of them. Before paramedics could even get there.”

  “That’s when Emily stopped speaking, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  Sympathy welled inside her. Samantha had an urge to go straight to the St. Clair and scoop the sweet little girl up in her arms.

  “Emily wasn’t even three at the time. They’re not really sure how much she understood at that age, but…” Mercer pressed her lips together briefly. “Mark’s taken her to specialists all over the country. For a long time, I think Emily was the only thing holding him together.”

  A minute later, they pulled into the crushed-shell parking lot in front of the Wayfarer Apartments. The pink, two-story stucco building was old but pleasant enough, with black shutters on the windows and stubby palmettos lining the walkway. Large red geraniums sat in concrete urns outside the office door of the building manager. Samantha made another date to go running with Mercer and then climbed from the vehicle. Their combined moods had turned somber with the discussion of the car accident, and Samantha wondered if Mercer’s return to Rarity Cove had been of her choosing or whether she’d come home to look after her oldest brother and niece.

  “I know you and Mark went for a walk on the beach last night.” Mercer squinted up at her from behind the steering wheel. “That’s a big step for him. For what it’s worth, he really does seem to like you.”

  Fishing in the glove box, she slipped on a pair of designer sunglasses. With a wave, Mercer drove off down the road. Samantha waited until the car was out of sight, and then she walked to her first-floor apartment stoop, her heart heavy and mind full. Her own mother had died of a drug overdose, drowning in her own vomit on the bathroom floor while her daughter was away at school. She…Trina…had been the one to find her. Still, she couldn’t imagine a child as young as Emily witnessing her mother’s death in such a violent, heartrending way.

  For what it’s worth, he really does seem to like you.

  Samantha picked up the Sunday edition of the Post and Courier, the Charleston newspaper, that had been left on her welcome mat, hugging it to her chest as she unlocked the door with her key. She thought of Mark, with his easy smile and soft-blue eyes, and wondered how he managed to appear so strong when his life had all but caved in around him.

  “My darling, baby boy!” Olivia rushed to meet Carter as he exited the passenger side of Mark’s Volvo station wagon. She had been outside, wearing a wide-brimmed sunhat and gardening gloves, when they’d pulled onto the circular driveway in front of the Big House. Mark had called her from the restaurant parking lot, letting her know of Carter’s early arrival.

  “Now just let me get a good look at you,” she said, setting down her basket of freshly cut roses. She beamed up at him, then threw her arms around Carter’s shoulders and kissed him on both cheeks. “I’ve missed you so. It’s just not the same seeing you on television!”

  “I’ve missed you, too, Mom,” Carter said, voice husky.

  Olivia’s gaze moved between her sons, and Mark thought he saw a faint mist form in her eyes. She shook her head. “Both of you have so much of my Harrison in you.”

  “Yeah,” Carter agreed jokingly. “But which one of us is better looking?”

  Mark rolled his eyes.

  Olivia withdre
w her hands from the gardening gloves, then used them to give Carter a playful warning slap on the shoulder. “None of that. You know I never pick favorites. And it’s not nice to tease your mother. Let’s all go inside. I know it’s early, but I had Marisol mix us up a pitcher of mimosas. I’ve got some of those tiny little ham biscuits you like, too, Carter.”

  “We just had breakfast,” Mark reminded, following them inside. Retrieving her basket, Olivia placed her other arm around Carter’s waist.

  “So we’ll just fatten him up. Carter’s gotten way too skinny.”

  They walked through the wide foyer with its polished hardwood floor and soaring curved staircase and into the large, formal parlor Olivia reserved for company. The room was tastefully decorated in shades of cream, coral and robin’s-egg blue. A baby grand piano sat in front of the picture window, and on the far wall an enormous curio cabinet held Olivia’s expansive collection of antique Limoges porcelain.

  She drew Carter down on the sofa next to her. “Now I want you to tell me every little detail about this movie you’re shooting in Charleston.”

  While they talked, Mark walked to the piano. He ran his fingers over its glossy top, experiencing a familiar tug inside him. No one in the St. Clair family had an ounce of musical talent, except for Shelley, who had been an accomplished classical pianist. She had even played with the Charleston Symphony for two of its summer seasons. The piano had belonged to her, but it had been too large for their ocean-side bungalow. Olivia had offered to keep it here and Shelley would come often to play. Mark looked at the sheets of music that still rested above the keyboard, untouched. It was Shelley’s favorite arrangement of Mozart’s Sonata in C. He released a tight breath and stared out the window across the wide, green lawn, watching as the underground sprinkler system watered the thick Bermuda grass.

  “Oh, my! The leading role,” Olivia enthused as Marisol came into the room carrying a white wicker tray loaded with refreshments. “Did you hear that, Marisol?”

  “I sure did. That’s really something, Carter.”