Clair (Beach Brides Book 4)

by Grace Greene

  “You said you came across that bottle down in the Caribbean, right? Long way from California. Why do you think it means anything? If you tell me more, then I can be more effective.”

  “It was a coincidence. But I don’t believe in coincidence. That card she wrote on? The other side had the name of an attorney. When I saw that, it was a warning I couldn’t ignore.”

  “You know her personally, right?”

  “Sure. A woman from the past. They can get vindictive. A lawyer won’t do her any good, if that’s what she’s thinking, but I don’t need her messing up my present.”

  Greg almost laughed. It was as simple and basic as self-interest. This guy, his client, had seen the card, both sides, and gotten spooked. He put sympathy and a touch of warning in his tone.

  “I’ve seen it all and you’re right about the potential for vindictiveness. Always good to leave things on good terms. Never can tell what someone who feels betrayed or cheated will do. What lengths they’ll go to.”

  There was a very long silence. Finally, Kilmer said, “Do you think she will…did you see or hear anything to indicate…”

  “I told you no, but you can never be sure of anything.”

  He was done with Sean Kilmer. He’d planted those last worries deliberately. Probably not his most ethical moment.

  Greg would send him a bill and beyond that, as far as he was concerned, this assignment was over.

  ****

  Greg shoved his laptop down into the side of his overnight bag. He was on his way out of the hotel room. He was looking forward to seeing Clair for breakfast, and nearly walked past the folded square of paper on the bureau by the television. The photocopy. With his free hand, he grabbed it and shoved it into his jacket pocket. With a last glance around the room, satisfied, he headed out to meet Clair and Darcy for breakfast.

  ****

  Greg saw Clair was already there, settling in at a corner table and getting Darcy arranged with a coloring book and crayons. The table was already a jumble of menus and wrapped flatware, mixed in with the paraphernalia people with kids always traveled with.

  Clair smiled as he approached the table. He was very glad he’d asked and that she’d accepted. Darcy didn’t acknowledge his arrival, but he was sure that from behind her long lashes, she saw him. Darcy showed no sign of discomfort when he joined them as far as he could see. Instead, she picked up a red crayon and began coloring a drawing of flower petals. He thought Clair seemed pleased and relaxed. Darcy was in the corner on Clare’s side of the table.

  “Good morning,” he said as he took the chair opposite her. He made a point of speaking directly to Darcy, too. “Nice red flowers. My favorite color.”

  No response, but there was a tiny pause in her coloring motion. He wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been hoping to see it. He thought he caught a tiny dimple indent her cheek.

  They enjoyed breakfast. Darcy only showed signs of distress when the waitress put a glass of orange juice in front of her. Clair intervened swiftly and the error was corrected. Crisis averted, they moved on to general conversation.

  “Too bad you’re not flying out of a closer airport.”

  He grinned. “Had I known I’d want to stay longer, I would’ve planned it differently.”

  “Plans.” Clair said the word ruefully, shaking her head. “There’s a few things in my life I might’ve planned differently if I’d known what was ahead.”

  “We’re better off not knowing, I think.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Sure. There are things we’d never attempt if we knew how hard they’d be or how it would end. Yet even while stuff is going wrong we’re learning things, and adding that to who we are and who we’re becoming.” He sipped his coffee. “Without the unplanned stuff, we’d never have the great moments, the life-changing events, that make life worth the hassle.” He gave her a direct look hoping to convey a personal meaning, then glanced at his watch.

  Clair said, “I guess it’s time for you to get on the road.”

  “Yes.”

  “I want you to know how much I’ve enjoyed this. I’d forgotten there was life outside of how we’ve been living. I think I’ve been in bunker mode.”

  “Because of…present circumstances? Or due to that former heartache you mentioned?”

  “Former?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Former,” she said, then added, “Both.” She smiled and her face seemed clear of shadows. “We went from the loss of our parents to her problem.” Clair cut her eyes toward Darcy who appeared to not be paying them any attention. “Meanwhile I was wasting my life with a man I thought cared about me, but who took advantage of me. Not only that, but the time, money and energy he took from me, in many ways were also stolen from my family.”

  The glow on her face, the passion expressed as she moved her body, her hands, when she spoke, her sparkling eyes, some exotic combination of down-to-earth woman and an open-hearted laughter… He tried to quantify it and couldn’t. She was the kind of woman he could fall for, maybe fall in…love with?

  It shook him. Attraction, yes. Love? What was that anyway? He had his own history of heartaches. He felt empathy, in sympathy with her, her sister, the damsel in need of rescue kind of thing. Suddenly, he felt a little shaky, but then it passed and he felt assured again. They hardly knew each other. He didn’t believe in love at first sight. She might be a romantic, true. After all, she had tossed a bottle with a message in it into the ocean. But that wasn’t his style. At any rate, he had a long drive to Richmond ahead of him, voicemails to clear, messages to return and new business arrangements to set up. He could do that from the hotel in Richmond and then fly out the next morning.

  “Time to be moving on.” And yet, he didn’t move. He was surprised.

  “It’s been fun. Have a safe trip to Richmond, and back to California. We’ve enjoyed getting to know you.” She extended her hand as if to shake his.

  He started to respond. His arm started to move, but then, instead, he stood and crossed the few steps to where she sat. After a brief confusion over her untaken hand, her eyes lit and she, too, left her seat.

  “Would a farewell hug be acceptable?” he asked.

  She laughed lightly. “Of course,” she said and moved into the circle of his arms.

  It was a brief embrace. Their first. For one thing, this was at a busy diner where people were eating eggs and bacon, and drinking their coffee or orange juice.

  “I liked that,” Clair said. And then she flushed bright red. “I mean, not the hug, but what you said. Farewell. Fare thee well, right? Not goodbye.” She added softly, “The hug was nice, too.”

  He nodded. He took a moment to clear his head, to think, before he said, “Darcy, I have to go now. I’m sending you a pretend hug.”

  The child didn’t look up, but with one hand she slid the coloring page across the table with such gusto that it almost took flight. Greg grabbed it before it sailed off.

  He felt extraordinarily silly holding the coloring page, a morass of red that passionately obliterated the lines. It felt like a trophy.

  Greg walked away wordlessly but with a grin on his face. He paused a few feet from the table.

  Clair reached for her purse, but Darcy showed no sign of being ready to leave.

  “I’ve got the tab,” he said.

  “No, wait. You paid for dinner last night.”

  “I insist,” he said. “If you like, we can talk about it when I come back.” He added, feeling almost surprised, “I’ll be back.”

  He knew it sounded like a promise. He wanted to regret it, but couldn’t.

  He stopped at the register to pay the bill. When he reached the door he took a last glance back and caught her watching him. He grinned, raised his hand, and went to his car.

  Clair

  Clair wasn’t in the least hurry. She wanted this relaxed, warm feeling to linger a while. She wanted to remember the conversation and that farewell hug and his grin a
s he went out the door. But now that Greg was truly gone, Darcy must’ve decided the show was over and they could go, too. Since they’d occupied this booth long after the food was gone, and the waitress kept giving them that look, she supposed it really was time. Darcy moved carelessly and several crayons rolled off the table. Clair reached down to pick them up and saw Greg’s jacket on the chair next to the one he’d been sitting in.

  Through the plate glass windows, she’d already watched him drive away. He hadn’t returned so likely he still didn’t realize he’d left it. Clair gathered up his jacket along with their belongings. Doing anything with children seemed to involve toting along a truck load of paraphernalia. She and Darcy walked out to her car to go home. Same old home, but she felt like she was on the brink of a future worth dreaming of. As if she was finally waking up.

  She took Darcy’s hand and held it in both of hers. “There’s good things ahead for us, sweetheart. You’ll see. We’re going to be patient, but we’re going to make changes, too. We aren’t going to wait for life to find us. Or wait for what can never happen. We can make our own choices and we’re going to do exactly that.”

  ****

  Darcy brought her bucket to their school session. She held it on her lap while Clair read aloud. When the story was done, Darcy stood and held up the bucket.

  “It’s rest time, sweetie.”

  Her sister frowned and held the bucket up again.

  “Not today. We’ll go over your math this afternoon and then we’ll do something special. Let’s skip the beach today.”

  Begin as you mean to go on. Right? Time to try on some new habits.

  She caught sight of the computer on the corner table. Perhaps it was time to bring back some old habits, too, like the Romantic Hearts Online Book Club. She had been avoiding them, but her interest was stirring again. How were the other gals doing since the trip to Enchanted Island? It would be fun to post about Greg, the handsome stranger who’d brought some life back to the Bennett sisters.

  Clair escorted Darcy to the bedroom and tucked her in for a proper rest. One day, her sister would say, “I’m too old for a nap.” Clair looked forward to that day and the progress it would represent. She closed the blinds and left the door cracked open while she brought in the assorted accumulation of stuff from the car and carried it into the kitchen.

  She put the travel cups in the dishwasher, emptied this and tossed that, then picked up Greg’s jacket. She held the jacket draped over arm and smoothed the fabric. What a joy it had been to catch a glimpse into a brighter future. Of a future that didn’t include Sean, or thoughts of Sean. Maybe the bridal gown would stop haunting her dreams.

  He said he’d be back. She had his phone number. Too bad she hadn’t thought of that at the restaurant, but she could call him now and tell him she had his jacket and would hold onto it for him until he returned. She was reaching for her cell phone when she noticed the white corner, the square of paper, sticking up out of the pocket. It reminded her of the paper she’d seen him holding that first day.

  Clair touched the edge of the paper. This man had come into her life so unexpectedly. She remembered how she had wanted him to go away because she was worried about nosy neighbors, but Darcy had trusted him right away.

  She hung the jacket on the back of the chair and left the paper in the pocket.

  At the kitchen door, she stopped suddenly. Could it be a boarding pass? He might have printed it out at the hotel. Well, he could get another at the airport. Or suppose it was something that he couldn’t easily replace? She stared at it for a moment before walking back to the table.

  She picked up her phone and dialed his number. He answered immediately.

  “Hi, Greg. Thanks for breakfast.”

  “My pleasure. I appreciate you two joining me.”

  “Have you realized yet that you left your jacket behind?”

  There was a long silence before he said, “No, I guess not. Not really like me.”

  His voice sounded odd, almost testing, non-committal in tone.

  “Do you need it? I’ll hang onto it of course, no worries, there, but I see there’s a folded paper in your pocket. Maybe a boarding pass or something? I didn’t want to pry, but wanted you to know in case it’s important.”

  Again, that long silence, then he said, “No, it’s not important. Clair—”

  She waited. This conversation felt off.

  Greg repeated, “It’s nothing important. Stow the jacket out of everyone’s way. I’ll get it when I return?”

  His voice ended the sentence with a question mark. It occurred to her that maybe he was disappointed to realize the jacket tied him to coming back. Maybe he was having second thoughts and was glad to be leaving?

  “I can mail it to you, to California, if that helps?” Her voice sounded choked even to her.

  “No need. I’ll be back. I can get it then.”

  He seemed to accept her offer, without questioning her motive, but to refuse it in favor of picking the jacket up when he returned, as he’d said, so whatever was troubling him probably had more to do with the traffic than her. Was that relief she felt?

  “Soon,” he added.

  Greg

  Greg broke out in a sweat. He felt the prickling on his temples. He reached up and his fingers came away damp.

  Guilt? No, not about what he’d done. More about how it would look to her.

  He knew what was in his jacket pocket. How could he be so careless?

  Well, he knew the answer to that. Distraction = Clair. The note, and shoving it into his pocket as he was leaving the hotel, had been an afterthought. In his mind, the job was complete and the paper was no longer needed, but not smart to leave behind. As to the carelessness of leaving the jacket at the restaurant? Again, distraction. Being focused on Clair and not on business.

  She hadn’t opened the paper. Would she? In his gut, he didn’t believe she’d resist long. He’d used up his good luck with too many close calls overseas and not enough good deeds at home. She would unfold that paper and he’d be the loser. Worse, so would she because seeing the note would inflict damage she didn’t deserve, all due to his carelessness and distraction.

  Chapter Five

  Clair

  In the end, it was Darcy who made the decision, however unintentionally. Her eyes spied that white corner sticking above the top of the pocket and she touched it, feeling the shape and the point, and then pulled it out. Clair walked into the kitchen as her sister was unfolding the paper. Clair eased it from her sister’s hands, not intending to read it, but now it was there, right in front of her face, with that strange block of text in the middle of the big piece of paper.

  A photocopy. Her name and that email address.

  At first, her brain couldn’t make sense of it. The handwritten letters, her name…. Was that her writing? Yes. Then the faint edges of the business card that the information was originally written on came together almost before her eyes and she realized. This was a copy of the information she’d put in the bottle back on Enchanted Island and had tossed into the Caribbean.

  Almost in shock, she refolded the paper. She slid it carefully back into Greg’s pocket.

  He hadn’t mentioned it. Why? He said he was here on business. Her? Was she the business?

  Creditors? Were they back and spying on her hoping to find Sean, or to trying to wring money from her one more time?

  No. The creditors wouldn’t care about this message or the bottle even if they knew of it. This paper indicated he was here for some other reason.

  Maybe Greg had found the bottle?

  If he had, then why wouldn’t he say so? If he hadn’t liked what he’d seen when he met her, he could’ve left quietly. No need for subterfuge. Or for dinner or breakfast. And having this photocopy instead of the original…meant something. What?

  Was he working for the person who had found it? Someone who’d given him the photocopy?

  She snatched the paper back from the pocket and this t
ime unfolded it roughly, not making any effort to be careful. She checked both sides of the paper for clues. Nothing.

  She sat heavily onto the nearest kitchen chair. That glimpse of happiness, of a normal, bright future, evaporated like the dream it was. Dreams weren’t meant to be lived. For good or ill, dreams were either a cruel tease or a bundle of regrets and fear.

  A cool hand touched her cheek. Darcy. She took her sister’s hand and squeezed it gently, reassuringly.

  If not for her little sister, she wouldn’t have known. Greg—if that was his name, if she could trust anything he said—would’ve counted on her to respect his privacy. The note would’ve stayed safely tucked away until his return. He hardly sounded worried. That’s how little all of this meant to him.

  She pressed her fingers to her temples wanting to stop the pulse pounding there. She had a huge headache in the making. She breathed deeply trying to ease the growing anger and distress, but it drove her and she couldn’t settle to anything. Her dark mood communicated itself to Darcy who became sulky. She refused to sit quietly during the pretend math lesson. Instead she kicked her legs and flipped the ends of her hair and hummed tuneless notes. It was extremely unusual behavior for Darcy. She carried her bucket around the house, then put on her shoes and stood at the front door. She repeatedly bumped the plastic bucket against it. But Clair couldn’t consider any of it thoughtfully because she was consumed with feelings of betrayal and treachery—the old wounds, still sore, mixed with new raw ones—and nothing else seemed to matter. Cool reason was beyond her.

  She said, “No beach today. I can’t handle it, Darcy. Please color or something.”

  It was well into the afternoon. Darcy had finally settled in front of the TV in Clair’s bedroom. Clair had a DVD player hooked up and Darcy could watch her favorite shows over and over. TV wasn’t a daily pastime for Darcy, so when it was allowed, she was willing. Her current favorite was an animated movie about a fish and she was fascinated.