She smiled, but a twinge of dismay dampened her good spirits. Was he so quick to get rid of her, then?
Instead she gestured with her mug to the lawn. “How much property do you actually own here?”
“Forty acres, give or take,” he said, gazing out over the patch with an easy smile. It had been the right conversational gambit to take. “All the way down to the water out that way,” he pointed, then swept his hand in an arc. “And a fair amount of the woodland here. Most of that is pure brush, way too dense to do anything with, but it adds to the solitude here.”
She nodded. “Do you think you’ll open it up again for guests? Or is it simply a matter of keeping it safe for your grandparents?”
To her surprise, he grimaced, once more seeming a bit melancholy. “Funny you should mention that. I haven’t spent a great deal of time out here recently, what with school starting up again. There was more mail to go through last night than I’d realized. One of the letters was from the South Carolina Department of Archives and History.” He shook his head. “About a year ago, my grandparents hit on the idea to get the house declared a historical site. Said it would be an honor for Pearl Island to be recognized, a reason to build traffic for the artist’s community and the house. I shut that down pretty quickly.”
She nodded. She couldn’t imagine Simon welcoming guests into his private world so easily. “Did they take that well?”
He snorted. “They rolled over like a pair of old hound dogs. That should have been a clue something was wrong. Turns out, from what I can tell with this newest batch of letters we’ve received, they went ahead and applied anyway. They’ve been in communication with the State Historic Preservation Office, and it would appear they’ve made it past the first step.”
“Oh!” Caroline exclaimed. “But…what’s the second step?”
“An unscheduled visit by the SHPO. To make sure the property is being maintained, is open to the public according to its stated hours, the whole thing.” He sighed. “I wondered why they’ve been wanting to come out here more often, despite school being back in session. I can’t manage my academic load and worrying about them.”
She nodded. “Will you contact the historical organization yourself?”
“I don’t know.” He sighed. “I don’t want to disappoint Belle and Bobo, but they know they can’t run the house like they used to. And a caretaker would cost money I’d rather not spend, frankly—they’re both getting on in years, and we have plenty to see them through, but only if we’re careful. I don’t want to throw away their life savings on making Pinnacle House what she used to be, when the old girl does fine as she is. By the same token, they get so much happiness out of being out here, them and all their rickety friends…” He let his voice trail off, and Caroline got the impression that this was a frequent conversation Simon had with himself. She merely was a witness to it this morning.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll do the right thing,” she said at length, taking another sip of her coffee.
A far-off horn sounded, and they both turned to the water, though they couldn’t see anything but broad, unbroken sky and calm seas.
“Sea Haven ferry, reporting for duty.” Simon nodded. “You can keep the dress, if you like. It’s been hanging in that closet forever, and Belle would be pleased to know you had it, I think.”
“And would she be pleased to know why I needed it?” Caroline asked, her brows lifting.
“I have a feeling that would provide her with endless amusement. She’s been after me to socialize pretty much since I was twelve years old, and grows more frustrated with me by the year.”
“And here I thought you’d use this beautiful house to your advantage, wooing ladies far and wide.”
“Not so far or wide.” He shook his head. “Too busy to date anyone seriously.” He shot her a quick look. “Yourself?”
“No one serious,” Caroline said, taking another drink of coffee to mask her delight at his admission. Simon, too, seemed pleased. A bright, roguish smile creased his face, and in that moment Caroline could almost see the man he would one day become, weathered by the sun and wind, his eyes and mouth bracketed by laugh lines. She glanced away quickly, blinking hard at the sudden lurch of her heart. She wouldn’t be in South Carolina long enough to see that, she knew. She wouldn’t be here long enough to notice his tan fading.
“Well, I should get on with cleanup,” he said, and she nodded.
“I can grab my things…” She frowned, her attention going to the trees. She didn’t want to leave Pinnacle House, she realized, especially not now. Surely she could put off the truth of who she was and why she was here a little while longer, couldn’t she? To imagine for another half hour, that this was her home?
She blinked at the sudden thought, then pushed it quickly away, clearing her throat. “Though actually—while you clear off of the yard, shall I go have a look at the little fairy village? I won’t engage in any rebuilding activities, I promise.”
Simon lifted his brows at her. “The village always survives storms in good shape. You saw it yourself—it’s pretty well protected.”
“Then it’ll only take me a moment.”
Simon looked like he was going to object, when his phone rattled in his pocket. Frowning, he pulled it free of his khakis and glanced at the display. “The university,” he fairly groaned.
“You take that,” Caroline said. “I’ll go get my things and then check on the village on my way back to town. Deal?”
“Fine.” But Simon’s focus was on the phone. Holding up a finger for her to wait, he pivoted sharply away, almost barking into the phone.
“Yes, this is Dr. Blake,” he snapped. “What is it?”
Caroline didn’t hesitate. She moved swiftly back across the porch and into the kitchen, winding her way through the large house. The stairs up to the second floor almost seemed familiar now, like she’d been running up and down them for years, not merely the last few hours. Funny how the house had already grown on her so much, with all of the Wetheringtons’ sweet stories and sparkling memories.
Actually…that gave her an idea.
Picking up her pace, she took the stairs two at a time.
“No, I’m not on campus, Jean, I’ve already told you that.” Simon passed a hand over his brow, leaning over the railing again. If he was honest, he didn’t want to see Caroline leave. Better for her to slip out the front of the house and down the long lane, strolling the short distance it would take to reach the marina. It was a beautiful day, the way it usually was after a storm, and he itched to make it down to the beach, to see how the sands had shifted, what secrets the dunes might reveal. His grandparents would want to comb the beach for the next several days, he suspected, delighting in each new discovery. Sometimes the sands gave up their secrets easily—sometimes not.
It never really mattered to Belle and Bobo. They simply loved being here.
He frowned, trying to focus on what Jean had said last. “What do you mean, coming in tomorrow? It’s Thursday, and I’ve no classes until next week. I can assure you I have no one so desperate about their grades that they’re going to want to interrupt their long weekend.”
The department admin on the other side of the line paused. “Dr. Blake, have you not been reading your emails?”
His scowl deepened, though there was no one to see it. “I haven’t been reading them in the last twenty-four hours, no. As I might have mentioned, I’m not at school.”
“Well…” the admin released a long-suffering sigh, clearly at a loss with how to proceed. “It’s faster if I tell you, then. Your research work has garnered more interest than I suspect you realize. The reason why you’re expected on campus tomorrow is to meet with the literary agency.”
“Why?” Simon said sharply. “I want to write a book, not appear on TV. There’s no need for me to meet anyone in person.”
The admin’s tone conveyed her complete lack of surprise at his response. “There is when your inability to respond to e
mails and phone calls in a timely manner becomes a hindrance to the normal of operation of business, Dr. Blake,” she said crisply. “And I should tell you that Dr. Anderson will be in attendance as well. He’s already planning the press release and media campaign.”
That did pull Simon up short. “Media campaign,” he said gruffly. “For a book that’s not yet written?”
“You know how he gets when he’s excited. And trust me, he’s quite excited about this opportunity. It’s exactly why the lecture series was started, to help demonstrate our relevance to the outside world. You’re the first professor to speak, already we have interest—and if I might say so, Dr. Blake, though I’ve been given no reason to expect you might be on camera for any part of your interviews, you might want to dress as if you were. It would appear that the world can’t get enough of your stories about royal families and their superstitions.”
“There’ll be a photographer?” Simon knew he should be elated. His work with the College was generally gratifying, but never more so than when they gave him the opportunity to take time off from his classes and spend an extended sabbatical in some remote corner of the world, researching. Interviews with the literary agency, the media team, and a photographer boded well for that.
But he was no longer sure he liked the idea of his talk, the way he’d presented it to the audience over a week ago. Having now gotten to know Caroline Saleri, it was possible that he had taken an inappropriate tone.
Could that be so? Or was he simply feeling bad because they’d had sex?
No. nothing about making love to Caroline Saleri could make him feel bad. Except for the amount of time it took for it to happen again.
Suddenly, Simon’s plan to let her leave quietly seemed like the dumbest idea ever. “Jean, I’ve got to go,” he said, heading into the house. “I’ll be there when, tomorrow?”
“Eleven a.m. But Doctor—”
“Eleven a.m., got it. And I’ll wear a jacket. Thanks for the heads up.”
Without letting her get another word in edgewise, he punched off the phone and stowed it in his khaki pocket. He stepped through the French doors into the kitchen, looking around at the tidy space. It had only been a few minutes since Caroline had left him, but the house already felt empty. Normally, being alone was his favorite experience at Pinnacle House, as much as he loved his grandparents and their coterie of friends. But with Caroline’s passage, the house felt different, somehow. Colder. Quieter. Too quiet.
He shook off the thought, grimacing. He was letting her flights of fancy get to him, all her talk about the value of superstition and how he should pay more attention to it. What he really needed to do, he thought, was pay attention to her. The rest of the world would go on about its business on its own.
Not bothering to check for her upstairs, Simon moved quickly to the front of the house. Stepping onto the porch in the bright sunshine, he was struck again by the beauty of the morning. The sun seemed particularly radiant today, the sky unusually clear and blue, the air fresher than he could have expected.
He trotted down the steps, angling for the drive, then stopped, some sixth sense drawing his attention to the stand of trees. Had Caroline said something about visiting the clearing? His distraction with the phone call had swept most of their conversation from his mind, except the salient understanding that she was leaving. He frowned, then took off for the trees. If she wasn’t there, it was the work of five minutes to return, and the ferry wouldn’t be in dock for a while yet. He had time.
He checked his watch again. Then again, his grandparents had been making noises about coming back out to see what damage the storm had wrought. If he wanted to catch Caroline while they remained alone, they might not have a lot of time.
By the time Simon entered the shadowy alcove of trees, he was moving fast, but he forced himself to slow down, to listen. He didn’t want to burst in on Caroline if she was enjoying a private moment amid the fairy houses. Guests used to spend hours back here, exploring the trees and brush despite warnings about poison ivy and bugs, delighting in each of the little houses. Caroline had as well, when he’d first brought her back here.
He slowed further as the breeze picked up, carrying a soft laugh with it. Instantly, relief flooded his body, and he released a tension he hadn’t known he’d been carrying. Caroline was here, as he’d suspected. She hadn’t left the little clearing, and if his ears weren’t deceiving him…
Stepping into the sunlit space, he halted, trying to understand what he was seeing. Caroline was definitely there, kneeling on what appeared to be a black garbage bag as she worked diligently before one of the houses. Beside her sat the clear plastic baggie of broken shells she’d culled from the lawn the night before. As he watched, she arranged the shells in neat succession between two of the houses, creating a small path between them. A quick scan verified she’d already plotted three more paths between other houses in the profusion of flowers.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, do you have a construction permit?”
Caroline had started when she first heard his voice, and by the time he finished his question she was scrambling backwards, regaining her feet.
“I thought you were on the phone,” she said lamely, one hand still clutching shells.
“I decided there were better ways to spend my time.” He gestured to the pathways. “Why—?”
She smiled, giving a little half shrug. “I thought your grandparents would get a kick out of coming here, seeing that the little village had decided to become a stronger community in the wake of the storm, with new pathways joining them together,” she said. As she spoke, Simon moved closer to her, and sure enough, a blush was staining her cheeks. “I didn’t expect to take so long with it though.”
She glanced up at him, once again shy, and his heart suddenly seemed to beat more heavily in his chest. “Do you think they’ll like it?” she asked.
“I think they’ll love it.” He leaned down and withdrew a handful of shells from the bag as well. “Let me start on this house over here. It looks particularly lonely.”
Chapter Fourteen
It was nearly five o’clock by the time Caroline mounted the stairs again to Heron’s Point. She’d called Cindy Marx from the ferry, suddenly far too tired to try and figure out where to find a cab on the small island of Sea Haven, and in no mood to try Uber. Cindy, as luck would have it, was on the island and able to come fetch her, and they’d talked the entire ride home about how “cute,” “remote” and “arty” Pearl Island was.
But to Caroline, the island didn’t feel like any of those things. Or at least not exclusively those things. In her mind, she could picture every room she’d so far seen of Pinnacle House, from its rooftop aerie to its comfortable kitchen to its exquisite front parlor. She could feel the grass beneath her feet and the fairy tale wonder of the little village among the trees. She could imagine plunging the flag marking the cask of buried treasure and giggling with excitement, whether she was thirteen or fifty-three, and she could picture herself watching the sunset a thousand times over, and realizing it had never been exactly the same.
“Caroline, dear? Is that you?”
Prudence’s voice shook her back to awareness, and Caroline smoothed her linen dress down self-consciously. She needed to watch it—daydreaming the way she had been was a sure-fired way to get her into trouble…or to find her walking into traffic without a care in the world.
“Yes, Pru!” she called out, following the echo of her cousin’s voice toward the back of the house. At this hour, Prudence would be enjoying dinner or at least a late-afternoon tea, the skeleton staff of housekeepers she employed more than happy for something to do other than wander the big old house, searching for a new corner to dust.
As she expected, Prudence was sitting on the screened in porch, a plate of cheeses and crackers on the table in front of her, several folders from real estate agents spread out around her. Instead of tea, however, she was sipping something colorful from a tall, cut-crystal glass,
a pitcher of the same mixture sweating nearby on a salver. It was fruity and colorful, but from Pru’s careful swallow, Caroline didn’t think it was merely juice.
“That looks fun,” she said, entering behind Prudence.
Her cousin chuckled, taking care to set down the glass. “It is quite fun, actually. You should try it and let me know what you…” she stopped as she glanced up to Caroline, her face going suddenly white as a ghost’s.
“Where…” she finally managed, then stopped, her face so stricken that Caroline couldn’t move, couldn’t speak as her cousin visibly tried to regain her composure. “Where did you get that dress?” she finally asked in a strangled voice.
“Oh!” Caroline glanced down to her linen shift. “I—well, I…” It seemed silly to lie about it, and the way Prudence was staring at her drove her to honesty more than anything else. “It’s a silly thing, actually. I got caught in a rainstorm out on Pearl Island—you know there’s that B&B out there, right?” She paused. “Prudence?”
But Prudence had risen to her feet, and she moved now over to Caroline, her eyes so bright that it seemed almost as if she was about to start crying. Caroline stood frozen as her cousin approached her, and that close she realized she hadn’t been mistaken. Prudence absolutely was on the verge of tears.
“Prudence, sweetheart, what is it?” she whispered.
At her voice Prudence started, glancing at Caroline’s face and blinking quickly, as if she didn’t realize how near she’d gotten to her. But Prudence didn’t step back. Instead she lifted a trembling hand and grazed the neatly pressed collar, her fingers sliding under the fragile lace. “You didn’t tell me you were visiting Pinnacle House,” she said, but though the question was a statement, it wavered at the end.
Caroline kept her gaze fixed on Prudence’s face. She didn’t sound betrayed, merely…astonished. “Well, you do know about the, um, Contos jewelry on display there?”
Charmed: Gowns & Crowns, Book 6 Page 12