“Don’t scare me.” Linnea leaned against him on the sofa, needing his comfort. “I’m worried both my parents are so focused on financial ruin that they won’t notice what’s happening with Cooper right under their noses.”
“What did you say your father invested in?”
“Some real estate deal in Charleston. A big one.”
John unwound his arm from her shoulders, rose, and walked over to the big desk. “Let’s take a look. Grab a chair.” He shoved aside a pile of papers to clear room for her and fired up the computer, tapping his fingers on the edge of the desk in impatience as it powered on.
“What was the name of the company?”
“She couldn’t remember the name. She said it had something to do with a mermaid.”
John raised a brow. “A mermaid?”
Linnea shrugged. “I’ve been trying to remember the name of a company my father and I talked about early in the summer. He was invested in it. Mama said it had the name of a mermaid . . . or something like that.”
“Hold on,” John said. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in concentration.
She waited in tense silence as he muttered, “Maybe a siren? I recall something about a siren in Germany. She lured fishermen to their death. What was her name . . . ?”
“It began with an l.”
“Lorelei!” he exclaimed. “That’s it.” He straightened with alacrity and began searching the program he’d created for his real estate project. His fingers flew over the keyboard. “I should’ve thought of that right away. It’s the name of a huge project on Laurel Island off Charleston. Okay, here it is.” He moved over so Linnea could read the information.
She read, stunned by the breadth of the project. Lorelei was the name of a billion-dollar development going into a prime piece of real estate on Charleston’s Upper Peninsula. The plan was to transform the site into an upscale, mixed-used community.
“It’s a mammoth project. I can see why Dad was interested.”
“A landmark opportunity. That’s one of the last premier waterfront parcels on the peninsula. Solid gold. He must’ve gotten in early.” He returned to reading the screen. “Says here the project was announced in 2016, so your father must’ve invested earlier than that. But look here,” he said, moving back so Linnea could read. “The project is stalled. City Council hasn’t signed off on the plans.”
“Oh no.” Linnea leaned back in her chair. “Stalled indefinitely.”
He scanned farther and whistled softly. “Here, read this,” he said. “This will give you some more info on the boatload of problems they’re facing. I’m going to make a phone call to a friend of mine who’s involved. See what I can find out.” He backed out his chair and walked off in search of his phone.
Linnea scooted closer and continued reading, hearing his sonorous voice behind her. She looked up a couple minutes later when she felt him standing beside her chair. His expression was grim. “What?”
“It’s bad,” he said. “Word on the street is they’re shutting the project down. They should be making a formal announcement soon. I’m sorry, Lin.”
“Oh no.” She put her head in her palm. “Poor Daddy.” Suddenly all the worry and grief she’d held inside all afternoon bubbled up. Tears began to well. Embarrassed, she covered her face.
“Linnea,” John said. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently guided her to a stand and enfolded her in his arms once more. He moved a lock of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “This is a tough lesson to learn, but you should know,” he said in a low voice by her ear. “We can’t raise our parents.”
She laughed.
“I’m serious,” he said. “The older we get, the crazier they seem. I remember when my parents got a divorce. I was still in high school, and man, I was pissed, especially at my dad. He was the one who was fooling around. My mom took it really hard. I worried about her. Stayed by her side when she cried, which, by the way, was all the time. I listened to her rants. One night she got so angry she started throwing all his stuff into the yard. That’s when they saw the lawyers. But eventually they figured things out. She moved here. My dad bought her family’s beach house for an exorbitant price. He remarried. We hardly see him anymore. Everyone’s moved on. It’s hard, I know, but you just have to let them figure things out on their own.” He lifted her chin with his finger so he could look into her eyes. “They’re stronger than they seem.”
She laughed again, then sniffed and wiped her eyes.
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “Since the computer is up and running, let me show you a company I found that’s looking for someone with an environmental science degree to do public education programs for their products.”
Linnea’s eyes widened with hope. “That sounds too good to be true.”
“It is. The job is in California.”
Chapter Seventeen
The hatchlings stay below the sand’s surface until it cools, usually indicating night. They emerge in a rush, tumbling over one another in a sprint past predators such as raccoons, crabs, and birds. Those that make it to the sea now begin a treacherous journey to the Gulf Stream where floating Sargassum provides protection and food. It’s survival of the fittest.
TONIGHT WAS HER first real date in three years. Cara had soaked in the hot, scented tub till her skin was pink. It was luxuriously decadent and calmed her nerves. She couldn’t believe she was as nervous as a teenager.
That in itself was rather a shock. She didn’t think she’d ever felt like this, the way the songs lyrics described: dreaming of him, counting the hours till she saw him again. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t fallen in love at an early age. She was forty when she fell in love for the first time with Brett. It wasn’t a gush of feeling, but rather a sense of knowing.
She lifted the loofah and let a stream of hot water trail across her breasts, lost in thought. Was this the different kind of love David had talked about? Brett had raised the bar very high, but with David, it was a different bar. She did feel a gush of romantic feeling with him, and it both delighted and disturbed her. She knew this feeling of awkwardness at dating again, feeling love again, would persist for a long time. How could it not? She had to cope with loving two men at the same time. But one was no longer a part of her life. The other was asking to be.
And both her mind and her body were telling her she was ready to try.
Cara took extra time applying her makeup, aware of the glimmer of excitement in her eyes. She’d been extravagant and purchased new undergarments, very good, elegantly sexy as only the French could design. Luxurious underwear gave her a private confidence, even if no one ever saw it but herself. She pulled the sleek white silk sheath dress out of the closet and over her head. The dress slid down her body like water. Her skin was so tan from her walks on the beach that the contrast was stunning. Finally, she selected a strand of sizable pearls for her neck and more for her ears. She looked in the mirror. A woman knew when she was looking her best. Cara smiled with satisfaction, then reached for her scent. It was new. Chosen for a new man.
When the doorbell rang, she felt a shiver of anticipation. She stepped into her heels and hurried to the door.
“You look stunning!” Linnea said with a gasp.
Cara turned to see her standing near the foyer, Hope in her arms, waiting. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore baby-doll pajamas and fuzzy slippers, a look straight from the sixties.
“Thank you. As do you.”
Linnea laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m going to duck. Have a good time.”
“Mama!” Hope called, reaching for her.
“Night-night, baby,” Cara said, hurrying to kiss her once more.
Predictably, Hope began to cry as the doorbell rang a second time.
“Go on, we’ll be fine,” Linnea said, then hurried down the hall with the fussing baby.
Cara took a final breath, then opened the door to see David standing under the light in a c
risp, beautifully cut tan suit and a pale-blue shirt with a gorgeous tie. She felt a sweep of happiness seeing him at her door again and realized she was feeling what they wrote about in songs after all. She’d missed him. In one hand he carried a bouquet of local summer flowers, her favorite. Cara opened the door wider, aware that though she’d opened this door for him many times this summer, tonight’s welcome felt decidedly different from the playdates.
“Come in.”
“You only have time to put these in water, I’m afraid. Our reservations are for seven and I heard there’s traffic on the bridge.”
“All right. Come in for just a minute, then.”
She walked across the living room, dimly lit by two lamps, toward the kitchen. Moutarde was silent in his cage. She reached up to grab the vase from a high shelf, but David was quick, his long arm grasping it and handing it to her.
Their eyes met and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her.
Footsteps caught her attention and she turned to see Linnea hurrying in, arm outstretched.
“I’ll take those,” Linnea told her, and took the bouquet. “Ooh, pretty.”
Cara held back a smile. “Hope’s asleep already?”
Linnea put the flowers in the vase. “Out like a light.” She stopped in front of David. “Hi and good-bye, David. I just came in for a glass of water.” She poured herself a glass of water and with a final wave scooted from the room.
David’s brows rose with humor at Linnea’s pajamas. “Déjà vu.”
“Quite. Well,” Cara said, “I guess we can go.”
CHARLESTON BOASTED MANY exquisite restaurants, and this small enclave was one of her best-kept secrets. They were seated in an exquisite walled garden filled with flowers in bloom. Small garden tables draped with thick white damask dotted the patio, each with candles that flickered in the dusk. Edith Piaf sang in the background.
David consulted the wine list with the sommelier. She let her gaze float about the garden. Other couples, young and old, filled the tables, enjoying a haute cuisine meal on a soft summer night. Inside the house, candles glimmered and more couples dined. She smiled to herself, realizing that David had selected a romantic, quiet restaurant rather than a showy one. Her attention shifted to the man across the table.
David had become so much more than the friendly, good-looking man who’d delivered Heather to the beach house a few years back. He’d become an important part of her and Hope’s lives. Cara was a woman who enjoyed handsome men and had dated many in her life, discarding them without a second thought. Only Brett had risen above the pack to claim her heart. She sensed that David could—if she would let him—claim it as well.
He handed the wine list to the waiter and, eyes gleaming in the candlelight, focused his attention on her. “I think you’re going to like what I selected. I had a little fun with wine pairing. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”
“In that case, I’d best pace myself.”
“Why? I’m driving.”
“I’m a terrible drunk. I get all weepy.”
“You? I can’t imagine you weepy. In that case, I hope you do get a bit tipsy so I can witness the other side of the usually implacable Cara Rutledge.”
“Implacable? Me? My dear boy, you have a lot to learn about me.”
David grinned. “I look forward to it.”
The waiter arrived at the perfect moment.
“Champagne,” Cara exclaimed, pleased. “I love good bubbly. What’s the occasion?”
“Isn’t being together enough of an occasion?”
She gazed at him over the glass as she took a sip. “Tell me about London,” Cara said, moving the conversation in a new direction. “It’s been ages since I’ve been. How is the queen?” she asked jokingly.
“In residence. The Union Jack was flying.”
“What was the urgent business?”
“Oh, you don’t want to talk about my business.”
“Actually, I do. You may not believe this, but there are women who have a good mind for business. I happen to be one of them.”
He appeared chagrined. “I didn’t want to start expounding. Once I do, it’s hard to stop me. I’m much more interested in you.”
“I appreciate that. However, I’m interested in you, too. I want you to tell me everything. Every last detail.”
Gradually, haltingly, David opened up about his business venture. As he began to expand on what his work in London entailed, she became aware for the first time of how involved he was with his company. She’d fallen into the mistaken impression that David was retired, dabbling in stocks and enjoying time with his grandson. Tonight she listened, spellbound, as he spoke with confidence and authority.
“The phenomenon of unmanned aerial vehicles is pretty exciting. We’ve taken the stuff of sci-fi movies and books and turned it into reality.”
“You’re in drones?” she asked, stunned.
“Yes. Or rather, my company makes the small cameras that are attached to drones. Drones are not only for hobbyists and tech-savvy enthusiasts anymore. Businesses and decision makers worldwide are seriously interested. The technological developments and advancements in the field of smart electronics are breathtaking.”
“But, you’re a lawyer. How did you get involved?”
“I’ve always loved electronics as a hobby. And I flew . . . still do on occasion. This seemed a natural fit. I invested in this small startup years ago. We went public in 2016, and since then”—he spread out his palms—“the growth has been exponential. And it’s still expected to skyrocket. The more involved I got, the more interested I became. So much so that I retired from my law practice to focus on the company.”
She sat back, astonished at how little she really knew about this man. As he went on to explain details of his cameras, she realized the scope of his intelligence, and more, his influence. He transformed from a friendly retired lawyer into a successful international businessman right before her eyes.
“That reminds me,” he said, reaching down beside his chair to grab a bag she’d been curious about since she’d seen him carry it into the restaurant. “I have something for you. A little souvenir from London.”
“You shouldn’t have,” she said politely, envisioning a tin of tea or a box of sweets emblazoned with images of Big Ben. She took the large bag from him, noting that it came from Harrods, and spread open the tissue paper.
“It’s a Burberry bag!” she exclaimed, stunned.
“Do you like it?”
“Of course. It’s beautiful.”
He appeared pleased with her response. “I remembered you broke the handle of your tote bag at the park and thought this one could replace it.”
Cara looked at him, moved that he’d think of such a thoughtful gesture. “But, David, that was a little nothing bag I bought at Target. This is a Burberry tote.” She exhaled slowly. “I can’t accept this.”
“Of course you can. You love it.”
“No, I can’t. You already do so much for me. You pick up my tab when we’re out, buy our tickets, drive us everywhere. That’s already a lot. But this . . .” She shook her head. “This is too much. I really can’t accept it.”
Cara gave one last loving look at the gorgeous Burberry tote and slid it back into the paper bag. She was about to reach for her glass, but David was faster, putting his hand over hers on the table.
“Cara, please accept the bag. I don’t mean to sound crass, but it’s really not that expensive for me. And the fact that you like it so much makes it worth every penny.” His gaze was penetrating. “Let me give you gifts or do little things for you. And can I say, it’s insulting to a man not to let him pick up your tab when we’re out together.”
“But a tab for ice cream is not this year’s hottest Burberry bag.”
“What’s the fun of having money if you can’t spend it on people you care about?” He looked down at their hands, then back at her. “I hope you know I care about you.”
She studied his dark e
yes, illuminated by the flickering candle, and heard his words again in her mind.
David continued, his expression vulnerable, “I hope, too, that I’ve come to mean something to you.”
She was surprised by the strength of the emotions welling up inside her. She looked down at their joined hands. “You mean a great deal to me,” she told him. “More than I thought I’d feel again.” She turned her palm up and wrapped her long fingers around his wrist. “Thank you for the beautiful bag. And . . .” She raised her eyes to his. “Thank you for bringing me back to life again.”
She’d asked for a sign to make it clear she was ready to let go of her grief and find love again. To be loved again.
She’d never thought it would come in the form of a Burberry bag.
LINNEA HEARD THE front door open, the click of high heels on the wood, and the plunk of a purse on the foyer table. She smiled, hearing Cara hum as she walked into the living room.
“You’re glowing,” Linnea said. “And it’s not from the sun.”
Cara startled at seeing Linnea cozy on the sofa. Sade sang on the speakers, and on the cocktail table were two wineglasses and a bottle of red.
“Am I?” Cara asked, putting her long fingers to her cheek. “It’s probably the alcohol. Lord, I’m tipsy.”
“Uh-uh, that ain’t it,” Linnea said, then patted the sofa. “Join me? I have a nice bottle of Malbec.”
“Oh, no, I’ve had too much wine already. David ordered a wine pairing and it was heaven. But no more wine for me.”
“Glass of water then?” Linnea asked, rising from the sofa, her tan legs showing under the baby-doll pajamas.
“Perfect. Thank you.” Cara slipped out of her heels, pulled the pins from her hair, and ran her fingers through her mop of hair, giving her head a good scratching.
Linnea returned with a tall glass of water, glad to see Cara relaxing. The ice chinked in the glass as the two women sat on the sofa, each with her chosen drink in hand, and settled in the pillows.
“So, you had a nice dinner?” Linnea asked, raising her eyebrows.
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