by Rachel Hauck
Jess laughed, pointing. “Somewhere along the back wall. Oh, that was funny. And when he could spell renaissance?”
“Never judge a book by its cover,” Elle said, reaching for a menu.
Caroline had insisted Elle add Stu to her Operation Wedding Day list. “Sure,” Elle had agreed. “But he has to be able to spell renaissance.”
Stu Green not only spelled renaissance, he spouted its history.
“The question now,” Julianne said, peering over her menu, “is if Heath McCord can spell renaissance.”
“What?” Elle balked. “You’re crazy. One, I’m sure he can. He’s a lawyer and a writer. Two, I’m not asking him, hint, hint. He’s a friend. Period.”
“Heath McCord?” Jess echoed. “The man renting your cottage?”
Julianne nodded with pinched expression. “Have you seen him? Dang handsome.” She arched her brows. “Sexy.”
Elle stopped her with a hard glare. “He’s a friend.” She’d kept her wedding night dance with Heath a secret. What would Jules do with that information?
“Good-looking how?” Jess wondered. “In a classic Hollywood way? Or more like Matthew McConaughy?”
“More like former jock turned single father with a touch of sophistication.” Elle stopped, shifting her gaze between her sister and friend.
Jules made an “Oh my” face. “Someone has thought a lot about this.”
Elle studied the menu she already knew by heart. “I have a lot of time on my hands.”
Just in time, Mercy Bea, the Frogmore’s senior waitress, set down a basket of Bubba’s Buttery Biscuits, cracking her gum. “Y’all ready to order? Elle, darling, I sure am sorry about the wedding.”
She closed her menu, putting it back in the holder. “Sometimes things don’t turn out like we plan, Mercy Bea.”
The blonde-bombshellish waitress pointed to herself with an exaggerated movement. “You’re looking at the queen of things not turning out. The pot roast is really good tonight. Andy outdone himself.”
Elle’s stomach rumbled, but she wasn’t quite ready for pot roast casserole. “I’ll have a salad and grilled chicken.”
“All righty.” Mercy Bea scribbled their order while chatting about her young sons and how much teen boys cost. On her way to the kitchen, she greeted a new customer.
“Danny Simmons, sit. Take a load off. Good to see you. What’ll you have to drink?”
“Tea sounds good, Mercy Bea.” Danny started for the table adjacent to the back booth. “Hey, Elle, Julianne, didn’t see y’all there.”
“Evening, Danny,” Elle said. In his mid-forties, Danny Simmons was a Beaufort County businessman, philanthropist, and golfing buddy of Daddy’s. His blue eyes crinkled beneath Ralph Lauren-like silver hair. “Are you by yourself? Care to join us.”
He stood stiffly, like a little boy unsure if he wanted to sit at the adult table, gazing at Julianne—who seemed intent on jellying up a biscuit for Rio—then at Jess. “Looks like you’re full up here.”
“I don’t mind scooting around.” Elle shoved against Jess.
Jess shoved against Julianne. Who did not budge. Instead she spread jelly on another biscuit. Rio had three on her plate already.
“Thanks, but I’ve got some work to do.” Danny backed away. “So I’ll just sit over here at this table here. Nice to see y’all. Sorry to hear how things went with Jeremiah, Elle.”
“Thank you, Danny. I’m healing.”
Elle pinched Julianne’s arm when the man moved out of earshot. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Ow, Elle.” Jules jerked her arm away with enough force to swing her dangling earrings against her neck and hair. “What did you want me to do, jump up and down?”
Elle looked at Jess, whose expression reflected her own. “Do you have a problem with Danny Simmons?”
“Now why would I have a problem with the man?” Julianne broke open another biscuit.
Elle snatched it from her. “Rio has three already, Jules, and you have one. Are you seriously going to eat five jellied biscuits?”
Julianne wiped her hands on her napkin. “Scoot around, Rio. Mama needs to go to the little girl’s room.”
“Something’s bugging her,” Jess said as Jules disappeared around the stone fireplace toward the restrooms.
“A lot’s been bugging her. She’s more secretive than ever.”
“Won’t say what’s up?” Jess searched the biscuit basket. Empty. She angled over the table for one of Rio’s biscuits. “Can Aunt Jess have one?”
Rio nodded. Her lips were ringed with purple jelly.
Mercy Bea came around to refill their teas. “Gracious, y’all need more biscuits?” She snatched up the basket, then stopped by Danny’s table. “What’ll you have, Danny?”
He was mid-I’ll-have-the-Frogmore-Stew when his cell went off. When he answered, he faced the wall and talked in a low tone.
“Did you find a new gallery location?” Jess scooped most of the jelly from the biscuit, then took a bite.
Elle broke from observing Danny. “Yes, second floor of the Bay Street Trading Company.”
Jess’s eyes grew round. “Elle, really? How perfect. Look, sweetie, I know Jeremiah broke your heart, but I’m so glad you didn’t move away.” She winced. “Beaufort is not Beaufort without you. When you were gone for a year, studying in Florence, then in New York, Caroline and I sat around Saturday nights asking, ‘What would Elle do?’”
“I hardly feel like that girl any more.” Elle gave Jess a weak smile. “But I’ll find her again. Remember when Forrest Gump was filming here, and we tried out as extras?
Jess choked on her biscuit. “Caroline kept sneaking into the scenes with Tom Hanks?”
In many ways, Caroline was the most courageous of them, though she’d never ventured farther than Florida until she moved to Barcelona. Now she flew to places like Thailand and Belgium. She handled life with grace instead of fighting it.
Behind them, Danny was in motion, rising, clapping his phone closed. “Elle, please tell Mercy Bea I can’t stay. Need to take care of something.” He dropped a twenty on the table. “Have her box up my dinner. One of y’all can take it home.”
“Is everything all right?”
His smile lacked light. “Could be better. Night, ladies. Good night, Rio.”
“Night, Mr. Danny.”
Thirty seconds later, Julianne reappeared. “The ladies’ room had no toilet paper or towels. I had to hunt down Russell in the kitchen before I could pee.”
“What’s up with Danny Simmons?” Elle asked.
“How should I know? Ask him if you want to know what’s going on in his life.” Julianne checked out his table. “Oh, he left.” Her shoulder’s visibly relaxed.
“Here you ladies go.” Mercy Bea set down their supper, and Elle’s window of opportunity with Julianne was closed and locked.
Rio pointed, jumping up on the booth seat. “Hey, Tracey-Love.” She waved her tiny hand in the air. “Tracey-Love!”
“Shh, Rio, sit down. Stop hollering across the café.” Julianne jerked her bottom to the seat.
Elle gazed around Jess to see a dapper-looking Heath holding Tracey-Love’s hand.
“Who is that?” Jess asked with too much pitch in her voice.
“Elle’s new renaissance man,” Julianne said, clearly glad to move the focus off of her.
Jess turned to Elle. “And you used to accuse Caroline of getting all the good-looking men. First Jeremiah, now him. Go for it.”
“First of all, there’s nothing to go for. Second of all, he’s a widow and in the healing process himself.” Elle picked out a biscuit. “Besides, he’s too old for me, like thirty-eight. So, leave it be, y’all.”
“Too old?” Jess echoed. “If Jules here can date a married forty-somethin’—”
“Jessica Cimowsky. Bite your tongue. I am most certainly not.” Every ear in the café heard Julianne’s rebuke. “Take it back.”
Jess’s eyes darkened.
“Then what was with the shifting in your seat, suddenly running to the ladies’ room when Danny appeared?”
“It’s nothing, Jess. Drop it.”
Jess’s shoulders surrendered. “Jules, you’re right. I’m sorry. Guess I read into things.”
No, she read the situation right, as far as Elle could see. The trouble was getting her sister to admit it.
Julianne shoved her plate forward, her casserole untouched. “It’s okay, Jess. I’m tired and edgy.”
Jess ducked her head. “No, my bad, Jules.”
“Forget it, I’m fine.”
But something was eating her. Elle talked when things bugged her. Julianne closed up shop and hid.
Mercy Bea was leading Heath toward them. “Y’all got room here? Seems Rio knows this little gal.”
Heath glanced around the table. “Evening, Elle, Julianne.”
“Tracey-Love, sit by me.” Rio pounded the seat with her palm.
Heath checked with Jules. “Is it okay?”
“Yes, Heath, please sit.” Julianne shoved against Jess, who slid over.
Heath swung Tracey-Love into the booth next to Rio, glancing at Elle. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” She hadn’t seen him since the night of their dance, and now suddenly the booth’s atmosphere changed with his presence. Her molecules seemed to be morphing and blipping. Settle down in there.
“You look good.”
“You too.” Elle glanced away when his gaze lasted longer than the ring of his compliment.
“By the way”—Jess offered her hand—“I’m the friend, Jessica Cimowsky.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Hey, girls, where’d Danny go?” Mercy Bea paused at their table with a loaded dish of Frogmore Stew.
“He had to go.” Elle pointed to the twenty. “He said to box it up—or, Heath, you want a plate of Frogmore Stew?”
“The reason I’m here.”
“Well, hallelujah.” Mercy Bea set down Danny’s plate. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Sweet tea sounds good, and for this little beauty”—he touched Tracey-Love’s head with his palm—“a salad and fries with a glass of milk.”
“Can do. Mercy Bea Hart.” She shook Heath’s hand.
“Heath McCord.”
“Pleasure is all mine. Now if these gals get too rowdy, you just let me know.” Mercy winked and wiggled away.
“Jess, look at the time. We’re going to be late for the meeting,” Julianne said, shoving out of the booth, clutching her purse.
“Huh?”
“Yeah, huh? What meeting?” Elle asked. They’d planned to watch movies at Jess’s house.
Julianne kept shoving and sliding until Elle was on her feet and Jess nearly fell off the end of the booth. “We forgot about the downtown commission thingy.”
“You are such a bad liar, Jules,” Elle whispered in her ear.
“Ladies,” Heath started, “was it something I said?”
“No, no, of course not. Really, we need to go.” Julianne linked her arm through Jess’s. “Elle, thanks for watching Rio.”
THIRTEEN
Waterfront Park, nestled next to the Beaufort River, was sleepy with the aftereffects of the setting sun. Elle strolled along the Beaufort River with Heath, her left hand holding on to Rio, her right, Tracey-Love.
She apologized for the tenth time. “I’m sorry about Julianne and Jess. They’re horrible liars.”
“It seems they thought we should be alone.”
Elle caught the tip of his grin. “More like my baby sister wanting to retreat and hide from her own secrets.”
“She has secrets?”
Elle nodded toward Rio. “Several.”
“I suppose we all have secrets.” Heath’s loafer heels scraped the cement in a soft, even gait.
“We have things we don’t want shouted out in the town square, but lately Julianne is very secretive. Hidden.”
Heath rested against a cement pylon, hands in his pockets, ankles crossed, his manner matching the drift of a passing sailboat. “When I was twelve, some friends convinced me to steal the bike from a kid down the street. A big dorky guy with Coke-bottle glasses who had never done anything to us but give us someone to pick on.” He shook his head at the memory. “When he discovered the missing bike, he cried. And I don’t mean boo-hoo, but a gut-level wail as if . . . I heard him all the way in our basement while I was watching TV. I ran out to see what had happened, for the first time feeling someone else’s pain. I thought he’d gotten hit by a car or something.”
“Oh, Heath . . . why are kids so mean?” Elle motioned for him to move on toward the bench swings where the girls could sit.
“I hid in the front bushes spying. Freddy’s mom came out to see what was going on. He managed to tell her between sobs that his bike had been stolen. And you know what she did?”
Elle winced. “Do I want to know? If you tell me she boxed his ears . . .”
“She grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him inside. ‘Do you think I have time to worry about your bike? As if we don’t have enough going on without you belly-aching. You probably lost it and made up this story.’”
“Heath, you’re kidding.” Elle’s heart pinged with compassion.
“I sat in the bushes, cold tears and snot running down my face, trying to figure out how to give back Freddy’s bike without my friends finding out—because, you know, those guys were going to be my friends forever and what they thought of me mattered.”
Elle related. “When you’re twelve, you believe your friends are forever and ever. And there’s no opinion but theirs. We can’t imagine being old and decrepit at thirty, having new-old friends.”
“In my mind, I’m still twelve. Well, maybe eighteen. Not this decrepit thirty-eight-year-old widow.” At the cedar wood bench swings, Heath hoisted up Tracey-Love, then Rio.
“In my mind I am a thirty-year-old spinster.”
Heath gave her an exaggerated up and down. “Spinster? Hardly.”
His gaze ignited a heat flash. Elle shoved the swing forward. “Okay, maybe not yet, but thirty turns to thirty-three, which turns to forty really quickly.”
A sixty-something woman jogged by, her arms pumping, her legs moving. “Evening, Elle, sorry to her about your wedding. I was looking forward to attending.”
Elle waved off her sentiment. “Thanks, Mrs. Winters, but I’m moving on.”
The older woman jogged in place, glimpsing at Heath. “I see.
Good for you.”
“Oh no.” Elle patted Heath’s arm. “This is my neighbor, Heath.”
“Nice to meet you.” Mrs. Winters bobbed her head, arms still pumping, legs marching.
“I meant I’m moving on with my life, opening a new gallery. I’ll e-mail you the details.”
“Oh, just the gallery. Too bad. But I’ll look forward to it.” She jogged off.
Heath laughed. “She’s a trip.”
“Yes, ever since I’ve known her, which is my whole life.” Elle gave the swing a big push. Rio hollered higher. Tracey-Love gripped the bench arm with white knuckles. “Okay, how’d you manage to give Freddy his bike back?”
“How do you know I did?”
Elle caught his shifting gaze. “Just do.”
“Freddy’s bike was in my basement so I came up with a plan,”
Heath began. “Rat myself out to my dad and tell the guys he discovered it in the basement, recognized it as Freddy’s, and took it over to him.”
Elle approved. “Clever and quite honest, McCord. How’d it go?”
“Dad grounded me, which eased my guilt and kept me away from the guys for two weeks. Then walked with me over to Freddy’s to return the bike and apologize, not just to him, but in front of the whole family.”
“Your dad was a character-matters man, I take it.”
“Still is. Not only did I learn a lesson about stealing and hurting others, but I saw firsthand how it robs people of their dignity. Even kids
like Freddy. When he got the bike back, it was like his soul returned. He was somebody again, free to explore the world on two wheels. I think he rode that bike until our sophomore year. Later he told me how he’d saved his own money for years to buy that bike. And, when I apologized in front of his family, it humbled me. Cool Heath screwed up, and dorky Freddy was vindicated, even to his family. They looked at him differently. Am I explaining this right?”
“Yeah.” Elle gave the swing another push. “It’s how I felt when Jeremiah dumped me. The handsome preacher leaving the unemployed, unfocused artist.”
“More like the beautiful, compassionate artist got rid of a selfish man.”
Elle liked his point of view. “I’ll keep telling myself your version. So, what happened to Freddy?”
“We became good friends in high school. He trimmed down but bulked up, played football, got contacts and braces, turned out to be this stellar student athlete with an Adonis-like face and build. Our senior year, he escorted the homecoming queen to the dance. Married her six years later. Several times he told me how much returning his bike was a pivotal moment in his life.”
Elle lingered in the mood of the story for a moment. “Never know, do you?”
Tracey-Love reached up for Heath. She’d had enough of Rio’s wild swing ride. “Never know what?” he asked.
Elle helped Rio off the swing. “When a miracle might show up on your doorstep. When some desperate situation becomes the most amazing opportunity.”
“No, you never do.” His response felt personal. Intimate.
She swallowed the goofy rise of emotion in her chest and reached for Rio’s hand. “So, who wants ice cream?”
At 1:00 a.m., Elle lay on the futon staring into the darkness, her evening with Heath and the resonance of Freddy’s story replaying in her mind.
If there could be a silver lining to her breakup with Jeremiah, maybe it was Heath. One moment he had her laughing so hard her sides almost split, the next had her eyes watering over the wounds of a boy she’d never met.
Heath had a way of making Elle feel like she could do whatever she wanted. It unnerved her that she wanted to know him more. After a foiled Operation Wedding Day scheme followed by the huge debacle of Dr. Franklin, she needed a break from romance.