“I like your style,” Marc said as Kelly the waitress walked toward the kitchen with their order. “I’m pretty stoked you didn’t order a salad.”
“As if,” Charlotte said, scrunching her nose up.
“By the way, you’ve been pretty brave tonight. And if you need me to meet you at the police station tomorrow, I’m there.”
“Thanks. I don’t feel all that brave, but I’m pretty happy about not completely falling apart. And I should be fine tomorrow. Thanks for the offer though.”
He watched as Charlotte reached for her water and took a sip. She had more grace in her little finger than most people possessed in their entire bodies. Her movements were dainty. But Charlotte had shown him on several occasions her grit and pluck. He shuddered to think what might have happened on that road tonight. Marc didn’t believe in accidents. God had made sure he’d been on that road this evening. And he’d given Charlotte courage to beep her horn and scare him away.
“So, what did you learn in Martha’s Vineyard? Anything important?” Charlotte asked, her blue eyes full of interest.
Marc nodded. “I think I made some headway. And you’re probably not going to like it, but I think there might be some sort of validity to Holloway’s claim.”
Marc went over all of the things he’d discovered while on the island.
“Clearly, he’s well off. I ended up making my way over to his house and I snapped some photos.” He reached for his cell phone and pulled up the photos of the quaint Victorian home. He pushed it across the table toward Charlotte. “As you can see, he owns quite a bit of property. Not to mention his house is beautiful, and it looks as if he recently painted it and replaced his roof and shutters. I don’t see him as someone who’s looking to score some money or extort you ladies.”
“This is a gorgeous home. And the surrounding land sounds extensive. Martha’s Vineyard is a popular destination. Property values are sky high.”
“I agree,” Marc said with a nod. “And he’s pretty well-known as an illustrator in his own right. So I’m leaning toward him not being some crank looking to make trouble.”
Charlotte let out a groan. “Well if he has a valid claim, why doesn’t he just state it in the paperwork? It was extremely vague.”
Marc scratched his chin. “That’s the million-dollar question. If his father is the direct heir that could be the reason. If he’s claiming Miss Hattie is his grandmother or aunt or whatever relation, the direct tie is still his father.”
“Hmm. I see what you’re saying. Why isn’t his father the one making the claim? If there is one. And I suppose we’re assuming his mother isn’t the tie.”
Kelly came back to their table with two heaping plates of food. She placed them right down in front of them. “I’ll be right back with the shakes.”
“Thanks,” Charlotte said, her eyes widening as she gazed at her platter. Marc smiled at the look of wonder on her face.
Marc reached for his burger and took a bite. He closed his eyes as the savory taste hit his tongue.
“Good, huh?” Charlotte asked, smiling at him from across the table.
Marc swallowed before responding. “So good I almost let out a shout,” he teased.
Charlotte took a bite of her bacon burger. “Mmm,” she said. “This is sheer perfection. Sal’s Diner is such a treat. Thanks for suggesting it.”
“Sure thing. I was headed here anyway. I appreciate the company.” He meant it. Outside of his family, he didn’t have a lot of local friends. His best friend, Curt, had moved with his wife to San Francisco, as was the case with most of his high school buddies. Because of the gossip about him and Fancy two years ago, Marc’s named had been dragged through the mud in Savannah. The scandal had closed a lot of doors to him. Many viewed him as a shady character who couldn’t be trusted. It made Marc sad to realize so many people wouldn’t give him the time of day, but he was a big believer in the idea that those who knew his heart, truly knew him. He didn’t want to waste another second thinking about the haters.
“If I had gone straight home I know I’d be tossing and turning right now. At least this gives me something else to think about before I lay my head down to sleep.” Charlotte dipped her spicy French fry into a mound of catsup before consuming it. “And if there was one thing to make this night better it would be this food. Comfort food for sure.”
The waitress returned with the two cherry chocolate shakes. “Sorry for the wait. Our machine is on the fritz. We had to use our back up. Enjoy.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Charlotte quipped as she took a huge sip through the straw.
Marc joined in with her and took a lengthy sip of his. He could tell from the look on Charlotte’s face she was enjoying it also.
“This shake is sinful,” Charlotte said with a giggle. “It’s probably a gazillion calories too.”
“Lately I haven’t worried about calories. I have a pretty good metabolism, but I haven’t hit the gym for weeks. Being around my father has taught me a lot. He’s someone who really loves food. Always has. But since his illness he can’t really eat or drink much other than water and some very bland foods. I don’t like the idea of eating in excess, but I plan to enjoy food while I can. Because you never really know when you won’t be able to enjoy it”
“I agree with that wholeheartedly.” Charlotte raised her shake in the air. “To enjoying the occasional burger, fries and cherry chocolate shakes.”
Marc clinked glasses with Charlotte and said, “To living life to the fullest.”
“Amen to that,” Charlotte said with a fierce nod of her head.
Something told Marc that Charlotte had a little living to do of her own.
Charlotte Duvall was shaping up to be someone quite different than he’d imagined her to be. He of all people knew what it felt like to be judged harshly. He felt ashamed in how he’d always regarded her. Clearly, her path hadn’t been easy. It was amazing how people made assumptions about others. It was true how one never really knew a person until they’d walked in their shoes and traveled their path.
As they finished up at Sal’s Diner and Marc followed behind Charlotte’s car as she drove to her family’s house, Marc sat and watched as Charlotte let herself in past the huge iron gates of the Duvall estate.
He let out a whistle at the three-story brick mansion and the vast grounds. It was like something out of Architectural Digest magazine. Lifestyles of the rich and famous.
He continued to watch Charlotte until he saw her let herself in through the front door. Marc let out a sigh. Tonight hadn’t been a date, not really. But somewhere along the way he’d begun to feel as if Charlotte was a romantic possibility. Somewhere between her agreeing to go to Sal’s Diner with him and then ordering the cherry chocolate shake had let Marc know his crush on Charlotte was the real deal.
One look at the Duvall estate put things into perspective. Even if they could get past his history with her brother and Fancy, Marc knew without a shadow of a doubt that someone like him would never truly belong in the rarified world of the Duvall family.
“When you find someone who makes butterflies soar in your stomach, that’s something you can’t possibly ignore. If you do, you’re ignoring your destiny.”
Olivia Rawlings
Chapter Six
Charlotte made her way back to Tybee Island after spending an hour at the police department. The officers had treated her very kindly, asking her a few more questions about the events of last night and then showing her a book of mug shots. About halfway through the book, Charlotte had identified a possible suspect, although she really wasn’t certain due to the lengths he’d gone to in order to hide his face. The officers had seemed very satisfied with her ID of the suspect, subtly letting her know that he had a history of similar behavior toward female drivers.
She breathed a sigh of relief the moment Savannah House came into view. Sometimes she just liked to drive slowly past it so she could admire the graceful slope of the inn and the
beautiful surroundings. Still—after all of these weeks and months—she couldn’t wrap her head around Miss Hattie’s inheritance. It was an extraordinary gift.
Charlotte walked the path toward the front entrance, stopping to greet a couple who was honeymooning at the inn. They were holding hands and looking like the quintessential lovebirds as they ventured out for an excursion. They looked so happy, Charlotte thought. And she knew Savannah House was playing a role in their contentment. It felt incredible to be giving their clientele a world-class experience.
As Charlotte entered Savannah House she smiled at the heart-shaped wreath hanging on the door. It added such a romantic vibe to the inn. Once she stepped inside she saw twinkling lights twined around the grand staircase and a roaring fire in the great room. Fancy was in decoration mode once again. She had been putting romantic hearts all over Savannah House in preparation for Valentine’s Day.
How was she going to tell the girls about last night? She didn’t want to worry anyone. And then there was the awkward part about spending time with Marc at Sal’s Diner. It had been a fun time. Charlotte couldn’t deny it, not even to herself. Marc was such a solid force. He was supportive and kind. And brave and caring. He’d given her a strong shoulder to lean on last night. But why was she so nervous to tell her best friends about it? Why did it feel as if it should be a secret?
Because you’re into him. You like him. Really really like him.
She pushed the thought away, not wanting to give it any credence even though she knew it was the absolute truth. She had feelings for Marc, a man she couldn’t be with under any circumstances.
“Charlotte.” Fancy’s voice drew her out of her troubled thoughts.
She felt guilty even looking into Fancy’s eyes. “Hey, Fancy.”
“Is there something you want to tell me?” Fancy asked.
Uh oh. Had she heard about her late night chow fest with Marc? That seemed almost impossible. Unless Marc had swung by here this morning and told the girls about the events of last night. No way. Marc seemed way more discreet than that. Surely he would let her choose the time and place to tell them about the incident last evening.
“Umm. No. I don’t think so.” Feeling tongue tied, Charlotte stumbled with her words.
Fancy narrowed her gaze. “I have a friend on the Savannah Police Department. Patsy Klenck. I called her about the wedding to see if she wanted to bring a plus one and she told me all about the incident last night.” Fancy rushed at her and hugged her. Charlotte could feel the heaving of her shoulders. She knew her friend was crying. Gently, she pushed Fancy away, only to see her tear-streaked face.
“Fancy, I’m all right. It was pretty terrifying in the moment, but I managed to make it through in one piece.”
“Thank the dear Lord for that,” Fancy said. “I didn’t say a word to Case since I figured you’d want to tell your folks and Case at the same time.”
Charlotte groaned. “My parents are going to freak out. They already treat me like I’m fourteen.”
“They love you,” Fancy said. “We all do.”
“I know, but I’m a big girl. I like my independence, especially now.”
Fancy shook her head in agreement. “Gotcha. I know the feeling. So who was the mysterious guy who showed up on the scene? Patsy said there was a guy who drove up and helped out.”
Charlotte bit her lip. She wasn’t about to lie to Fancy. She hesitated for a moment, struggling to come up with the right words. “So, it was Marc. He drove up and basically saved the day as far as I’m concerned.”
Fancy’s jaw dropped. “Wow. I can’t believe it. What a stroke of luck.” A huge grin broke out over her face. “See? I told you he was one of the good guys.”
Charlotte nodded. “I was terribly wrong about him. We actually went to Sal’s Diner after the police finished interviewing me. He really helped me calm down. Then he followed me home in his car to make sure I was safe.” Charlotte felt shy even telling the story to Fancy. Would Fancy see her feelings written all over her face?
“I’m so glad you two are getting to know each other. Now there won’t be any awkwardness when he comes around. Did he say anything about what he discovered in Martha’s Vineyard?”
Charlotte made a face. “A little bit. I believe he’s drawing up a report. Bottom line…there wasn’t anything he discovered to rule out Holloway as a potential heir to Savannah House.”
Fancy’s face blanched. “Oh my goodness. I’ve been praying about this situation and hoping Marc might find a smoking gun.”
“I trust Marc. If his hunch is that Holloway is the real deal, then I think we should prepare ourselves for a battle.”
Fancy stared at Charlotte. Her eyes were as big as saucers.
“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asked. “Is there something on my face?” She began swiping blindly at her face.
Fancy shook her head. “No. It’s just that…the way you talk about Marc now. It seems like…maybe the two of you have something going on.”
“No!” Charlotte said in a raised voice. “Absolutely not. I wouldn’t do that to you or Case. I just wouldn’t.” Charlotte could hear the strain in her own voice. She was living proof of the saying ‘I think the lady doth protest too much.’ She had overreacted to Fancy’s statement and now she felt like an utter fool.
“Charlotte, if you do feel something for Marc it’s not a betrayal of me…or Case. I think Marc is a wonderful person. And Case…he loves you. He would never stand in the way of anything that might bring you happiness.”
Heat suffused Charlotte’s cheeks. She didn’t want to talk about this with Fancy or anyone else. She was a loyal sister. “There’s nothing romantic going on between us,” she said in a heated voice. “My feelings about Marc have changed dramatically, but we’re not dating or anything. He took me out for a bite to eat and we had a good time. It’s friendship, Fancy. Nothing more. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention anything about it to Case or the girls. I really don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”
“Sure thing,” Fancy murmured. “I didn’t mean to upset you. You deserve to be happy, Charlotte. If Marc might be an option, then I advise you to follow that path. Life is too short for petty grudges or vendettas.”
Charlotte offered Fancy a stiff smile and said, “Thanks. I better get to work. I have a lot of calls to make.” She felt Fancy’s eyes on her as she walked down the corridor and toward her office. For the first time in ages, Charlotte felt like a huge liar. She hadn’t told Fancy the truth. Not one bit. Marc Cabron was very much the object of Charlotte’s affections. Her feelings for him weren’t shallow or insignificant. They went against all common sense and defied all the rules she’d imposed upon herself about loyalty to her brother. And it was making her downright miserable.
Tears misted in Charlotte’s eyes. She would just have to do what she’d done so many times before. Stuff her feelings down and pretend as if everything was picture perfect in her world. Something told her this time would be absolutely brutal.
* * *
Later that evening, Charlotte was sitting in front of her television idly watching a mystery series from the BBC Channel. The Pennyfeather Mysteries. For the life of her, Charlotte couldn’t figure out the convoluted plot. And she could barely understand the heavy English accent of the extremely attractive star. But he was great eye candy, Charlotte thought as she threw a handful of popcorn into her mouth.
The buzzing of her cell phone caused her to knit her brows together. It was almost ten o’clock at night. It was a rare occasion that she received a call at this time of night. A quick glance at her caller ID caused her to frown. She didn’t recognize the number popping up on her screen. With a sigh she picked up the call, praying it wasn’t a telemarketer. If it was, she would surely give them a piece of her mind.
As soon as she answered, the hysterical voice on the other end of the line made her pulse quicken. It took her a minute to recognize who it was—Angela Weeks—one of the teens from th
e Youth Center. Angela was only sixteen years old and almost thirty-nine weeks pregnant. From what Charlotte could understand from her garbled voice, Angela was in labor. She was asking for Charlotte to come to the hospital.
“Angela. Put one of the counselors on the phone so I don’t worry about you until I can make it to the hospital.”
A few seconds later one of the counselors took over the call. “It’s Paula. We’re here at the hospital, Charlotte. She was just examined by the nurse and she’s almost seven centimeters dilated. They’re telling her she can’t really have an epidural or any pain medication so she’s taking it hard. She really wants you to be here so I’d hurry if I were you.”
“No worries. I just need to pull on a pair of sweatpants. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Charlotte ended the call and raced to pull on some clothes. She dragged a comb through her hair and grabbed her purse and keys from her chaise longue.
Charlotte made a quick path to her car in the driveway, roaring away from the Duvall estate as if the devil himself was chasing her.
Please, Lord. Let me make it to the hospital on time to be with Angela. I know how much she needs me during this momentous moment in her life. She really doesn’t have anybody else to be her birth coach.
Charlotte reached Savannah Hospital in ten minutes flat. Thankfully, she had hit all green lights on her way from home. As soon as she parked her car in the lot she raced inside, desperate to find labor and delivery. When she was finally steered toward Angela’s room, she anxiously pushed her way inside, not sure what she would find on the other side. Angela was breathing deeply in and out. Paula was standing at her side, trying desperately to calm the expectant mother down. Angela’s eyes widened when she spotted Charlotte.
“Thank God you’re here,” Angela cried out. She reached out her hand to Charlotte, who swiftly made it to her side. “I didn’t want to push too much. I was afraid you would miss it.”
Falling in Love (Secrets of Savannah Book 5) Page 9