Queenie’s eyelids fluttered as she attempted to blink back tears. “I can’t take charity, Mo.”
“It’s not charity, Queenie. It’s food that’s going to go to waste. And I shouldn’t have to remind you that folks here liken throwing away food to a sin. So please take it.”
“What do you say, kids?” Queenie asked her children.
“Thank you, Miss Mo,” they said in unison.
Pushing her long, brunette hair behind her ears, Queenie took the containers. “Thank you, Mo.”
Leaning over, Morgan kissed her former classmate’s cheek. “You’re welcome.”
Morgan felt the heat from Nate’s gaze when she returned to sit next to him. “Please don’t say anything,” she whispered.
Nate pressed his mouth to her ear. “You never cease to amaze me.”
She met Francine’s eyes, and the two shared a barely perceptible nod.
Dusk descended over the island as the fairgrounds filled with people. Children’s screams and laughter blended with the sound of barkers inviting revelers to try a game of chance. In between bites of food, Morgan, Francine, David, and Nate kept up a steady stream of conversation, ranging from the latest Hollywood gossip to the upcoming local elections.
She noticed Nate was silent once they’d begun discussing celebrity reality shows, and she wondered if he was reliving the years he’d spent in L.A. He became more animated when the topic segued to sports, and even more so when it came to the election.
“Do you think Alice Parker can beat Spencer White?” Morgan asked.
David nodded. “Even though I don’t live here, I’ve heard a lot of talk on the mainland that she has a good chance of becoming mayor of the Cove.”
“That’s because Jason Parker is her husband,” Francine said. “After all, he does represent us in Congress.”
“And don’t forget they’re loaded, so I’m sure she has a lot of money backing her campaign,” David added. “What about you, Nate?”
Nate swallowed a mouthful of beer. “What about me?”
“Who would you vote for if you lived in the Cove?”
“It would probably be Alice. She’s a lot prettier than Spencer,” Nate drawled, deadpan.
Morgan gave him an incredulous stare. “You’d vote for someone because of the way they look rather than the issues?”
“It’s all about appearances. Correct me if I’m wrong, David,” Nate stated.
The attorney nodded. “Nate’s right. Jason won his first term based on his looks. Luckily for him, he proved to his constituents that he also had the intelligence to go along with his face and body.” He looked at Francine. “Are you going to vote for Spencer because he’s one of the island’s most eligible bachelors?”
Francine rolled her head on her neck. “No.” The single word was pregnant with indignation. “FYI, Spencer isn’t the only eligible bachelor. What’s Nate? Chopped liver?”
“Nate is not an eligible bachelor,” Morgan said.
Shifting slightly, Nate turned to give Morgan a long, penetrating stare. “Are you saying I’m out of contention?”
Pinpoints of heat stung her face. “No…um,” she stammered. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
Francine touched a napkin to the corners of her mouth. “Please explain yourself, Mo.”
Morgan’s gaze shifted from Nate to Francine. “Whose side are you on, anyway?” She looked back at Nate. “You’re not out of contention, but I’d like to believe you’re temporarily unattainable to other women who may have romantic designs on you.”
Smiling, Nate raised his cup. “Well put, baby.”
She raised her cup, touching it to Nate’s. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
A comfortable silence followed the endearments as Morgan and Nate shared a smile. He’d told her when he’d whispered in her ear what he wanted her to do to him and what he was willing to become, and Morgan’s mind was filled with the endless possibilities she’d conjured up, all of which would make their night one to remember. Then she sat up straight when she saw a familiar face. She almost hadn’t recognized Bobby Nugent without his paint-spattered coveralls and painter’s cap. He stood several feet away, waving to her.
Resting a hand on Nate’s shoulder, Morgan pushed to her feet and stepped over the bench. “I’ll be right back. I want to talk to someone.” She and Bobby moved away from the table. “Good evening, Bobby.”
He inclined his salt-and-pepper head. A network of tiny lines fanned out around his blue-green eyes, which were set in a deeply tanned henna-brown face. “Miss Morgan. The men told me about the Island Fair and I thought I’d come by and see what they were talking about.”
“What do you think?” she asked.
He smiled, exhibiting a mouth filled with tobacco-stained teeth. “It’s a real nice tradition you have here. I called my wife and told her to drive down from Savannah and hang out with me until the Fourth.”
When Morgan first met the contractor, he told her he’d been married for forty years, and this job would be his last because his wife had been nagging him to retire. An avid fisherman, he’d bought a boat. His future plans included sailing to the Caribbean, where he would live with his in-laws during the winter months.
She touched Bobby’s shoulder. “I want to you meet the carpenter who will supervise the rebuilding of the slave village.”
Nate stood up when Morgan beckoned him, then shook hands with Bobby when she introduced him as the manager for the restoration project. “You’ve been entrusted with a tremendous responsibility.”
Bobby nodded. “You’ve got that right. It appears you’ll have your share with the village.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Nate studied the man. “It shouldn’t be too difficult,” he said confidently. “I’ve built homes from the ground up, renovated apartments, and restored others to their original state. In fact, I intend to survey the site one day next week. If you don’t mind, I’d like to come by and take a look at what you’ve done to the main house.”
Bobby nodded. “I’d love to have your opinion on a few things. We had a devil of a time stripping the wallpaper.”
Nate smiled. Bobby had just given him the opening he needed to broach the topic Morgan had complained about. “I’ve found using fabric softener and water helps loosen the old adhesive. But when working larger jobs I rent a wallpaper steamer. The advantage is the water never cools, making the job go by more quickly.”
Bobby scratched his stubble. “I guess you can say I’m old school. I tried the machine and fabric softener once with disastrous results.”
“Are you finished stripping?”
“We have one more bedroom.”
Nate detected Morgan’s perfume as she moved closer to his side. “Don’t start it. I’ll rent the steamer and show you how it’s done. That way you’ll know for the next time.”
“I told Miss Morgan there’s not going to be a next time. I’m retiring after this job.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help out, just tell Miss Morgan and I’ll come by,” Nate volunteered. She didn’t know it, but he would do anything to ease her anxiety about the project.
Bobby extended his hand. “Much appreciate the offer. I’ll leave you folks to finish your food, ’cause right about now my belly is talking to me.”
Reaching for Morgan’s hand, Nate laced their fingers together. “I thought you told me he came highly recommended,” he said when Bobby was out of earshot.
“He was,” she said in confirmation.
“I have a feeling he’s distracted. He probably spends most of his day thinking about what he’s going to do when he retires.”
“I can’t fire him until I find someone to replace him.”
“You don’t have to fire him, Mo. He’s already agreed to let me stop by and see what he’s doing. As he said, he’s old school.” Morgan met his eyes when he stared down at her. “Give me another twenty years, I’ll probably be old school, too.”
“You can�
��t say that about your father.”
“That’s because carpentry is not the same as building a house. With construction, there’s electrical, plumbing, insulation, roofing, siding, windows, walls, floors, and painting. Wood is wood, whether it’s natural, treated, native, or exotic.”
“It’s the same with textiles.”
He smiled. “There you go.”
Morgan squeezed Nate’s hand. “I need to walk off some of this food.”
David and Francine had cleared away the remains of the food by the time Nate and Morgan returned to the table. “What are you grinning about?” Morgan asked Francine, who gave her a Cheshire cat grin.
Francine glanced at David. “David has invited us to come to his place next Saturday night for dinner and cocktails.”
Morgan started. “It’s my—”
“I know it’s your birthday, Mo,” Francine said, cutting her off. “That’s why we want to get together. That is, unless you’ve planned something.” She gave Nate a look of feigned innocence. “I’m sorry, Nate. Did you want to do something special with Mo?”
“I didn’t even know about her birthday.”
David placed his arm around Francine’s shoulders. “Then you don’t mind if we celebrate it together?” he asked Nate.
There came a beat. Even though David appeared to be enthralled with Francine, Nate couldn’t rid himself of the nagging notion that David liked Morgan for more than just friendship. He had to hand it to the dapper attorney; he had exquisite taste. David, he mused, would bear watching closely.
“No, I don’t mind.” He didn’t mind because he had time to come up with something special.
“I guess that does it,” David practically crowed. “Francine will let you know once we finalize everything.”
“No clowns,” Morgan warned.
Nate snapped his fingers. “Damn, baby. You shot down my surprise.”
She squinted at him. “If you bring a clown around me I won’t be responsible for what happens to him.”
“Remember, David, no clowns,” Nate repeated. “Mo and I are going to walk around before we go on a few rides. What are you guys going to do?”
Francine looped arms with David. “We’re going to the Bingo tent before tackling the rides.”
Nate nodded. “If we don’t see you later, then have fun.”
David and Francine headed for the Bingo tent, while Nate directed Morgan along a row of colorful booths, each of which offered a passerby the chance to play a game and win a prize. He stopped in front of one that had a line of mechanical ducks against the back wall. “Do you want a stuffed animal?”
“Yes.”
He pointed to rows of stuffed bears, monkeys, and penguins. “Which one do you want?”
“I want the sock monkey with the long arms and legs,” Morgan said. Nate paid the vendor and then picked up an air rifle. Her dimpled smile grew wider with the pinging sound of the pellets hitting the ducks in rapid succession. Nate had hit every one of them dead center.
He put down the rifle, pointing to the upper shelf. “I’d like the large monkey.”
Picking up a pole with a clawlike end, the vendor grasped the toy, handing it to Nate. “Nice shooting. And you’re lucky, because it’s the last sock monkey I have.”
“Thanks.” Nate wrapped the toy’s long arms around Morgan’s neck. “Are you going to give him a name?”
“Caesar.”
He shook his head, not wanting to laugh. “Is he Augustus or Julius?” Morgan did laugh. The sound was as sensuous as her smile. “What’s so funny?” he asked.
“He’s not a Roman emperor; he’s the genetically engineered chimp from Rise of the Planet of the Apes.”
“Are you talking about that movie with the monkeys that run amok?”
She laughed again. “Yes. I love that movie. Have you seen it?”
It was Nate’s turn to laugh. “I’m afraid I missed that one.”
“I have the DVD at home. Whenever you have some time we’ll watch it together.”
Curving an arm around Morgan’s waist, he pulled her to him. “Do you think Rasputin will resent Caesar?”
“Not if I put him on the bed. Ras knows he’s not allowed to jump on the countertops, tables, or beds.”
“How do you train a cat not to climb when it’s the most natural thing for them to do?” he asked, leading her away from the crowd that had gathered at the booth.
“Actually, I read that using cookie sheets keeps them down, and it worked. I think the noise it made when it fell to the floor bothered him. In the beginning he ran and hid before coming back to try it again. After a while he learned to stay down.”
“That’s ingenious.”
“Training him to stay off the bed was easier. I bought a motion detector that expels compressed air whenever he comes too close. One shot of air and he’ll take off like a rocket. It’s a lot more humane that squirting him with water. There’s a window perch and a climbing tree in the area off the pantry for him to climb on. He stays there as long as sun comes through the window. Otherwise he sleeps on the mat at the side door.”
“Have you changed your mind about mating him with Patches?”
“I’ll agree, only if I can have the pick of the litter.”
Nate tightened his hold on her waist. “That’s a promise.” He stopped abruptly when their path was blocked by a young girl glaring at them. She’d rested her hands at her waist. Without warning, she opened her mouth and emitted a bloodcurdling scream.
Morgan and Nate looked at each other. “What’s wrong with her?” she asked.
The child’s chin quivered. “I want a monkey!”
Nate smothered a curse when he realized the girl wanted Morgan’s sock monkey, and then he remembered the vendor saying it was the last one. The child wasn’t much older than his five-year-old niece. He’d witnessed Gabrielle’s hissy fits on more than one occasion. Sharon usually stood her ground with her willful daughter, while Nate gave into her to stop her tears.
Seeing the child was an aching reminder of all the times he’d seen his mother crying. She’d asked everyone not to feel sorry for her, because she was going to a better place, but he knew she was afraid. Manda would often deflect the conversation about her deteriorating health, saying her only regret was leaving her children without a mother. She’d made Nate and Sharon promise not to judge their father harshly if or when he decided to remarry.
Nate knew there was the possibility that his father could remarry, but he never thought it would happen within months of Manda’s passing. However, it all made sense when Lucas announced he was to become a father for the third time. Only his mother’s warning about respecting his father kept Nate from blurting out the reason for the fast nuptials. Odessa had found herself pregnant with Lucas’s baby as Manda lay dying. Nate shook his head as if to free himself from the memories. He didn’t want to dwell on past hurt, but instead cherish the good times he had with Morgan.
Morgan reached up and unhooked the Velcro fastenings on the sock monkey’s arms. Hunkering down until her face was even with the child’s, she extended the toy. “I’m going to give this to you on one condition. Do you understand what I’m saying?” The girl nodded and Morgan smiled. There was something about the child’s face that reminded Morgan of photographs her grandfather had taken of her when she was that age. They had the same complexion and features. Her mother had parted her hair in the middle and styled it with two thick braids.
“Keisha! Oh, there you are,” said a woman who was obviously the child’s mother. Keisha was a miniature version of her mother.
Keisha tugged on the woman’s hand. “The nice lady is going to give me her monkey, Mama.”
“Oh, no, she’s not, baby. You can’t go around asking people to give you what doesn’t belong to you. Maybe she has a little girl she wants to give it to.”
Morgan didn’t recognize the woman or her daughter, so they were either newcomers or tourists. “It’s all right. I don’t have a littl
e girl and I do want to give it to her. But Keisha is going to have to promise me that she will always listen to her mama, or the monkey will come back to me.”
Keisha puffed out her narrow chest. “I always listen to my mama and daddy,” she said proudly, not seeing her mother cut her eyes at her.
“If that’s the case, then you can have the monkey.”
“What do you say, Keisha?”
“Thank you, Mama.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank the pretty lady.”
Keisha’s large dark eyes sparkled in reflection of the lights that lit up the fairgrounds. “I don’t know her name, Mama.”
Morgan swallowed the laughter bubbling up in her throat. “It’s Morgan.”
“Thank you, Miss Morgan.”
“You’re welcome, Keisha.”
Keisha clutched the monkey to her chest in a deathlike grip. “Does he have a name?”
“Yes. It’s Caesar.”
The child laughed hysterically. “That’s the monkey from the movie, Mama!” Everyone laughed, including Nate.
Keisha’s mother extended her hand. “By the way, I’m Georgia.”
Morgan took the proffered hand. “You know who I am. This is Nate Shaw. He won Caesar for me.”
Nate took a step and shook Georgia’s hand. “Your daughter is precious.”
Georgia smiled. “Keisha is what I call my miracle baby. My husband and I tried for more than ten years to have a child, but once we talked about adopting I got pregnant. I know she’s a little spoiled, but I’m hoping to change that before she starts school next month.”
“There’s nothing wrong with spoiling a child,” Nate said.
Morgan gave him a sidelong glance. She remembered him saying that he’d wanted children. She recalled his words as vividly as if he’d just uttered them: I wanted children, but my ex-wife didn’t, because her career was more important than our marriage.
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