Donovan buckled his seat belt. In a way he felt guilty. He shouldn’t be taking up Carol’s time if he didn’t plan on marrying her. He should cut her loose and let her find someone who would love her the way she deserved to be loved. Was he willing to do that? Once his seat companion was buckled in, he leaned back and made himself comfortable. Closing his eyes, he brought Carol to the forefront of his mind. She was tall, just a few inches shorter than he, with wonderful, warm, laughing brown eyes, an infectious smile, and a great body. She had a great sense of humor and liked to experiment in bed. She could cook up a gourmet meal in no time and give Heloise some housekeeping hints. She was a giver all the way around, and she loved kids and animals. She’d taken to Abby right away and Abby to her. She was everything he’d ever thought he wanted in a woman so what was his problem?
Maybe John had inadvertently hit on it when he said Carol was perfect for him. His first thought had been that she was too perfect. He shook his head, putting it out of his mind. Nobody was perfect. Everybody had flaws. Even Carol. Though, admittedly, he had yet to find one.
Maybe a new environment would do the trick. Once he was away from all the memories of Emma, their stillborn child, the house, and Harriet, he’d be able to get his old life back. The life he’d had before he met the Lambert sisters.
As he dozed off for the ninety-minute flight to Charleston, Donovan Mitchell wished he had a fairy princess who would wave her wand and make him feel better.
CHAPTER TWO
Construction-site coffee has to be the worst coffee in the world, Donovan thought as he sipped from the Styrofoam cup. His gaze swept the work crew over the rim of the plastic cup. He itched to pick up a hammer, but fought the urge.
“So, Donovan, are you in or not?” Steve Franklin asked as he rolled up a set of plans. He opened the trailer door and stepped outside, signaling Donovan to follow him. “As you can see, we have almost perfect weather.”
“What do you do when hurricanes come along?”
“Inside work. That way we never miss a day. It’s all in the way you schedule, but then you know that.” Steve handed the plans to his foreman, then took Donovan’s elbow and walked him toward a pile of lumber. “We’ve got contracts up the kazoo and more on the way. You can build your own crew and bring anyone aboard you want. I’ll give you the whole Sun Blossom development in Seabrook. It’s yours to run with no interference from me. Oh, I almost forgot, you get your own coffeemaker.”
Donovan didn’t need to think about it. He’d known he was going to accept the moment he set foot on South Carolina soil. He liked this cousin of his even though he’d only seen him every five years or so at family reunions. Steve was honest, ethical, hardworking, and didn’t cut corners. He built quality housing at affordable prices, and his reputation was sterling. “The coffeemaker cinches it. I’m in,” Donovan said, extending his hand.
“So when can you start?”
“A week or so. First, I’ll have to find a place to live. That shouldn’t take but a few days at the most. For now, a rental will do. I told you about John and his little girl. Three bedrooms are important. A couple of bathrooms, too. Little girls like to take bubble baths.”
Steve pushed his hard hat farther back on his head. “Tell me about it,” he said, grinning. “I have four girls.”
Donovan rolled his eyes. “As soon as I rent a house, I’ll head home, find a realtor for my house there, pack my stuff, and come back here. So … yeah, I think we’re looking at a week on the outside.”
Steve nodded.
“Were you serious about my own crew because if you were, I have four guys besides John I’d like to bring down.”
“The more the merrier. If we ever get caught up, maybe you can build my house on Edisto.”
“Sounds good to me.” Donovan glanced down and checked his watch. Five o’clock. “Okay then, if there’s nothing else, I’m outta here. I’ll check in with you when I get back to Jersey. Thanks for the offer, Steve. It came in at just the right time.”
“Hey, Steve!” a voice bellowed from the site trailer. “There’s a phone call for Donovan Mitchell.”
“Go get it, buddy,” Steve said, slapping Donovan on the back.
Donovan seemed surprised. “I can’t even imagine who would be calling me here,” he said, then loped toward the site trailer. “Mitchell here,” he barked into the phone.
“Donovan. It’s Carol.”
He turned around to face the open door. “Carol, what’s wrong? You sound funny. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Donovan. But—Listen, there’s no way to tell you this except to blurt it right out.”
“Jesus, you aren’t going to tell me my house burned down, are you?”
“I’m afraid it’s worse than that. I just heard it on the news when I was going to the cleaners. Harriet and John are dead.”
He held the phone in front of him and stared at the handset, then put it back to his ear. “Have you been drinking, Carol?”
“Donovan, listen to me. As soon as I heard, I drove over to John’s house. The police were swarming the place. Evidently Mallory and Abby had been playing at a friend’s house, and when they got home, Mallory went upstairs to find her mother but couldn’t wake her up. She ran crying to your neighbor, Mrs. Lascaris, and she checked it out, then called the police. They found John downstairs, sitting at his desk. He was dead, too. I’m calling from Mrs. Lascaris’s house now.”
Donovan sat down in the closest chair. “Jesus Christ. How? How’d they die? What happened? Was it carbon monoxide poisoning?”
“Nobody seems to know yet, or if they do, they aren’t saying. I think you need to get back here just as soon as you can. I’ll pick you up at the airport if you call me and give me your flight information.”
“Yeah. Okay. Sure,” he said automatically. “I’ll head back to the hotel right now. I’ll call you from there about the flight.” He paused. “Carol—The girls—Are they okay?”
“They’re right here with Mrs. Lascaris and me. They have no idea what’s going on, but they’re confused and scared.”
“Yeah, me too,” he said. “Take them to my house, Carol. I’m the closest relative those girls have, so the authorities shouldn’t give you any trouble about taking charge. If you need to, mention my hefty donations to the Police Benevolent Association. John would—” His voice broke. “John would want me to take his kids.” He paused, took a deep breath, and stood up. “I’ll call the police myself from the hotel. I don’t believe this. John dead. What do you think, Carol?”
“I don’t know what to think. We’ll have to wait to see what the police and coroner have to say. I’m so sorry, Donovan. I know John was like a brother to you.”
“John was more than that. He was my best friend. Look, I have to get out of here, Carol. I’ll call you with the flight info.”
Sweat dripped down Donovan’s face. At least he thought it was sweat. He knuckled his eyes, then glared at the man who’d called him to the phone before he stomped his way from the trailer to the rental car parked at the entrance to the building site.
Donovan got into the car, turned on the ignition, and let the engine idle for a few minutes. His thoughts turned to Abby and Mallory. What would happen to them? he wondered. Would the courts want to put them in foster homes? “Over my goddamn dead body!”
Rain beat down on the green-canvas tent. Donovan tried to listen to the minister’s words. He heard phrases like pillars of the community, caring individuals, and loving parents. He couldn’t help but wonder where the stoic-looking minister had gotten his information. Or did he have a generic script that he went by? Did he ever deviate from the flattering words? Donovan did his best to remember what the minister had said the day he buried Emma and their stillborn child, but he couldn’t remember a single word.
He looked around, astonished at the turnout. All the guys from the construction company were there, probably because it was raining and there was no work. Everybody liked John, but Donovan
knew in his heart the crew wouldn’t be there but for the rain. How strange they all looked in their suits and white shirts and ties. He probably looked strange to them, too.
“Ashes to ashes …”
Donovan cringed. Carol reached for his hand and squeezed it. Carol had been a rock these past three days, taking care of him, the girls, and handling all the funeral arrangements. He didn’t know what he would have done without her.
It was almost over. He had to hang on. He couldn’t lose it with everyone watching. What he wanted more than anything was to run like hell and not look back. He clenched his jaw as he led the small procession past the two bronze Springfield caskets and dropped a single rose on top of each. Mallory followed behind him, but when it came time for her to put her roses on the caskets, she refused to part with them.
“Put them on the caskets, Mallory, like everybody else,” Donovan said between his teeth. He wanted to smack her. She must have sensed his anger because she screwed up her face into the prelude to a tantrum.
Carol stepped between them. “I’ll take care of this, Donovan,” she said, pointedly, then bent down to Mallory’s level. He didn’t hear what she said, but whatever it was, it worked because next thing he knew Mallory was putting her flowers with everyone else’s.
“What’s in the boxes, Uncle Donovan?” Abby asked as she laid her roses on top of the caskets.
It only just occurred to him that he hadn’t done a very good job of explaining things to her, to either of the girls for that matter. Way to go, Mitchell, he thought.
Abby tugged on the hem of his suit jacket. “What’s in the boxes?”
“Ashes,” he blurted as he grappled for the right answer. That’s what the minister had said. Ashes to ashes … But it didn’t make any sense. The bones remained intact for hundreds of years before they turned to—Not even ashes, he thought. Dust. The bones turned to dust.
“Dust to dust …”
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there staring at the caskets, but when he looked up, all the mourners were heading back to their cars.
Holding Mallory’s hand, Carol joined him and put her free arm through his. “Come on. It’s time to go.”
“No, I can’t do this,” he said suddenly. “I can’t put John in the ground. It’s … John didn’t want to be buried. He wanted to be cremated. I just now remembered.” He gave Abby over to Carol and ran to find the funeral director. Rain sluiced over him. Within seconds he was drenched to the skin. “Wait!” he shouted. “I changed my mind. I want to have …” He forced himself to calm down. “I’ve decided to have the bodies cremated instead of buried. I don’t care what it costs, just tack it on to the bill.”
“Twenty-one straight days of rain,” Carol said as she climbed into Donovan’s car. “I’m sick of it.”
“It’s sunny in South Carolina. I saw it on the news this morning,” Donovan said inanely, water dripping down his face. He wiped it away, then reached for Abby and set her on the seat beside him.
“How long do you think the reception will last?”
“An hour or so. Everyone will have a little something to eat and drink, they’ll say nice things about John and Harriet, then leave. I don’t expect more than a dozen people to show up. Everything is ready. We really don’t have to do anything but circulate,” Carol said. “Then, when everybody is gone, we’re going to talk about why you did what you just did.”
Donovan nodded. He could tell Carol didn’t approve of his sudden change in plans. Probably because of the added expense. To hell with the expense, he thought.
He looked in the rear view mirror at Mallory. She looked lost, forlorn. In spite of what she’d done at the gravesite, he felt as sorry for her as he did for Abby.
“We’re going to drop the girls off at the Barkers’ house,” Carol said a moment later. “Mrs. Lascaris is sick. The Barkers’ daughter, Marie, is going to watch them until … until it’s time to … to bring them back. Oh, and don’t forget, you still have to talk to Harriet’s aunt and fill her in on the details.”
“Until you told me you found her name in Harriet’s address book, I didn’t even know she had an aunt. Emma never mentioned her to me, and neither did John.”
“She sounded elderly but sharp. I think she said she was eighty-six. She wanted to know how much insurance there was and if she’s mentioned in the will. She said she doesn’t want … any responsibility.”
“When can we go home?” Mallory whined.
“We don’t have a home anymore,” Abby informed her sister. “Isn’t that right, Uncle Donovan? We’re going to live with you now, aren’t we?” Abby said, throwing herself sideways against Donovan.
“I want to go home,” Mallory whined again. “All my stuff is there. I want my stuff.”
Carol glanced behind her. “We have to wait for the police to tell us we can get your things from the house, Mallory. I’m sorry, honey, but there’s nothing we can do until then.”
“I’ll share the toys I have at Uncle Donovan’s,” Abby generously offered.
“I don’t want your toys! I want mine. They’re way better than yours.”
“Mallory!” Donovan said in a stern voice. “That’s enough of that. You girls are going to have to get used to sharing for a while.”
“I don’t want to share with Abby.”
“Oh. yes you will, young lady, and I don’t want to hear another word about it. You will both be responsible for making your own bed, putting your clothes in the hamper, and picking up your toys. That’s the way it’s going to be. Crying and whining will not make me change my mind,” Donovan said in his new parental voice.
“Mama always made my bed and picked up my clothes and toys,” Mallory said, starting to cry.
Donovan didn’t want to hurt Mallory more than she was already hurting, so he chose his words carefully. “I know, honey. But your mama is in heaven now with your daddy. Abby will show you how to do it. Abby makes her own bed when she sleeps over.” Donovan glanced at Carol and saw her staring at him in a way that said, “this is not going to be easy.”
“Mama said I was a princess and princesses don’t do chores.”
Donovan didn’t know what to say to that. Mallory was a brat, but this wasn’t the time to discipline her. “We’ll talk about it later, all right?” he said, tight-lipped. His hold on Abby was fierce. The rest of the drive to the Barkers’ was made in silence, as Donovan squirmed in his soaking-wet clothes.
“I feel so sorry for those girls, Donovan,” Carol said after the girls had gotten out of the car. “What in the world are you going to do?”
“John’s will appointed me executor of the estate and the girls’ legal guardian in the event of both his and Harriet’s deaths, so I’ve had my attorney petition the court for custody. He seems pretty sure no one will contest it. I’m afraid Harriet’s aunt won’t see a penny. What money is left after the bills are paid and the house is sold will go into a trust for the girls.” Donovan took Carol’s hand and squeezed it. “Later on, after the girls have adjusted, I’d like to look into adopting them. I don’t even know if the courts would consider a bachelor, unless, of course, I wasn’t a bachelor, but a stable, married man.” He drew a long breath. “You want to get married, Carol, and make me a stable, married man?” He intended to spring the big question on her later, after the reception and before the girls came back, but instead, the words had just popped out of his mouth.
“If you’re looking for a stand-in mother and housekeeper, you’ve got the wrong girl, Donovan Mitchell,” Carol said, dashing his hopes. Then her expression changed, and a warm, loving smile lit her face. “However,” she lowered her voice a few octaves, “if you’re looking for a loving wife and a helpmate who’ll nurse you through the flu and rub your feet, I’m at the top of the list. If the kids are part of the deal, that’s okay. I love Abby. I honestly don’t know if I can learn to love Mallory. She’s a spoiled, willful little girl. I’d like to think with love and discipline we could change h
er, but …” She shook her head.
“So what’s your answer? Yes or no?”
Carol appeared to give the question serious thought. “I need you to say the magic words, Donovan.”
“The magic words? You mean, I love you?”
“Well, do you?”
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “I think I do. I’ve got all the symptoms. You can rattle my cage like no one else. I love the way you cook. I love the way you look. You make my blood boil when I think about spending the night with you. You’re great in bed. We’re great in bed. As in together. If you weren’t in my life, I would miss you. If that’s love, then I’d have to say I’m in love with you.” He flashed her a boyish grin.
She grinned back. “That was quite a testimonial.”
He dropped his hands from the steering wheel. “Look, Carol, I don’t know if I’m marriage material or not. I didn’t do so well the first time around. The girls are going to be a handful. I don’t know if I have the right to ask you to take them on. We’ll be a ready-made family. I’d want you to be a stay-at-home-mom, cooking and baking and all that wifely and motherly stuff. That’s not to mean you can’t work if you want to. You can.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what the hell I’m trying to say here.”
“All I asked for were the magic words. I don’t want you to say them if you don’t mean them. It wouldn’t be fair, Donovan.”
“I love you, Carol.” The minute the words were out of his mouth, Donovan decided he truly meant them. “I do. I really do.”
“Then I accept.”
He stared at her, hardly believing his good luck.
“Will I like living in the South?” she asked.
Donovan took a deep breath. “Probably not in the beginning, but it grows on you. I grew up in Louisiana, so I’m partial to it. Weather is great except for the humidity and the hurricanes. Stays green all year. People are gentler, more mannerly. It’s a laid-back way of life.”
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