by Lin Stepp
Rhea looked in the car mirror. “I must look like a dweeb in comparison.” She sniffed. “And that mansion Carter lived in! I heard he married into a wealthy family, but I had no idea! How tame and shabby everything here must look after a life like that.”
She swiped a hand over her eyes. “Surely Carter will never stay here—even if he said he might, not with all that to go back to.”
As she cried her way home, Rhea couldn’t decide whether having Carter leave again would be a blessing or another sorrow.
CHAPTER 10
Carter’s head healed quickly, and by Wednesday he was on his way back to California. An unexpected meeting had been called in regard to the Traveler movie in the works, and Morgan said the studio wanted Carter in the mix. He’d brought Taylor since Morgan wanted so much to see him.
“Bring Taylor. Martha and Pickett miss him,” Morgan had said gruffly. Carter knew he hated saying how much he missed the boy himself.
Martha and Pickett Oslo lived on the Benton estate and managed Benton’s large house and grounds with consummate ease. The pair had been like surrogate grandparents to Taylor since his birth, keeping Taylor while Carter worked and watching after him through the years when Judith had been too ill to tolerate his exuberance.
Taylor sat in a window seat of the company jet now, flying one of his toy airplanes into a landing on the windowsill. “Grandaddy Benton said Martha is making me peanut butter cookies.”
Carter looked up from his papers to smile at his son. “Your favorite, huh? Martha knows what you like.”
“Yeah, she’s nice.” His voice sounded sad.
“Do you miss living in California, Taylor?” Carter laid down the pile of papers he’d been looking through to direct his attention to his son.
Taylor shrugged as he crisscrossed two airplanes in flight.
“Not as much as I thought I would.” He turned candid eyes to Carter and smiled. “Laurel Springs is neat—just like you said. I really like it.”
He turned troubled eyes toward Carter now. “We are going back, aren’t we, Dad?”
“Sure. We’re just flying out to California for some meetings.”
Taylor landed the two planes on the pull-down tray in front of him, making whooshing landing sounds.
“Your grandfather is looking forward to seeing you, Taylor.” Carter watched him, wondering what was on his mind.
“I know.” He sighed. “He tells me all the time how I’m his heir and tells me all the stuff I’ll need to do one day.” He taxied the planes across the tray. “Papaw Wes and Grampa Layman just let me play.”
Carter’s eyes widened, always surprised at the insight his son seemed to possess about the adults around him. “And that’s good?”
He gave Carter a patient look. “I’m only six, Dad.”
“I see.”
“That’s one of the reasons I like Laurel Springs so much. I can just play with Beau and be a kid.”
Carter frowned. “I think you’re saying you don’t always have to be Morgan Benton’s grandson there.”
Taylor laughed. “Nobody even knows who Morgan Benton is in Cosby, Dad.”
Carter sighed. “And that’s kind of nice, isn’t it? Less pressure and less expectations.”
“For you, too, Dad.” Taylor picked at a scab of poison ivy on his arm. “You seem more happy at Laurel Springs. You laugh more.” His eyes flicked over Carter. “And you don’t have to wear suits and stuff.”
Carter looked down at the elegant, tailor-made suit he wore and the perfectly polished lace-up shoes. “You don’t think I look good in suits?”
Taylor rolled his eyes. “Sure you look good. You’re just more relaxed and have more fun when you don’t have to wear them all the time and stuff.”
“Oh.” Carter bit back a smile.
“When are we going to start our house?” Taylor drove a miniature service truck over to work on his landed airplanes.
“Actually, a surveyor came yesterday. We’re getting things started.” He grinned at Taylor. “But won’t you miss your grandmother’s cooking once we move?”
“She only lives a mile from where our house will be and I can ride my bike down anytime. She said so.” He launched another plane into the air.
Pausing it in midair, he added, “We won’t get servants or anything at Laurel Springs, will we?”
Carter lifted a brow in question.
“Nobody else has servants and stuff. Beau doesn’t. His mom cooks and cleans for them. And Mamaw cooks for Papaw Wes and Grampa Layman.” Taylor crinkled his nose. “It would be weird to have servants at Laurel Springs.”
Carter considered that. “I guess it would.”
“Beau asked if we were going to build a big mansion or something because we were rich, but I told him we were building a regular type house.” He turned his gaze toward Carter. “We are, aren’t we?”
Carter’s eyes returned to the papers in front of him. “You saw the drawings and the blueprints, remember? It’s a country plan—exactly right for Laurel Springs.” Distracted now, he picked up a pencil to work on a change for a character drawing before him.
“Do you think you might get married again, Dad, so I’d have another mother?”
Dropping the pencil, Carter turned to stare at Taylor. “What brought that on, Son?”
Taylor shrugged and drove his airplanes around on his tray, avoiding Carter’s eyes. “Well, Beau says you used to really like Rhea and that you and Rhea were going to get married once.”
“And?”
A short silence followed.
“Is this bothering you, Taylor—what you heard?”
He looked up with questioning eyes. “Is it true, Dad?”
Carter considered what to say. “You know Rhea and I were best friends growing up and it’s true Rhea and I became sweethearts later. We talked about getting married a long time ago.”
Taylor nodded.
Carter tried to return to his paperwork, but he found his attention diverted now. In exasperation, he put the pencil down to look out the window at the bank of clouds they were moving through.
“I like Rhea. You don’t have to get mad.”
He turned to find his son studying him with wise eyes.
“Rhea’s really nice, Dad. I showed her the pictures of our house and of my mom and Grandaddy Benton when she was in my room the other day.”
“Ahhh.” A lightbulb came on in Carter’s mind. So that’s why there had been such a change in Rhea that day, and that’s why she’d avoided him since.
Carter almost laughed, thinking what Rhea must have thought of the huge Benton estate house and all the intimate family pictures collected in Taylor’s book. Judith created it for him, so he would have visual memories of her and of his early life.
“She thought Mom was really pretty.”
“I’m sure she did.” Carter smiled to himself, imagining what Rhea thought of Judith in some of her designer dresses. She reeked elegance and class—and had been a truly gifted woman.
Taylor dropped his eyes. “Mom told me once she thought you would get married again. She said it would be all right with her. She wouldn’t be mad or anything. And she told me to be nice about it.”
“And so that’s what you’re doing?” Carter watched him. “Being nice about it because you think I’m interested in someone?”
He wrinkled his brow. “No, I was just letting you know it would be okay with me. And letting you know I like Rhea.” He crossed his arms. “She’s not the same kind of beautiful Mother was—but she’s …” He stopped, searching for the right word. “She’s sexy.”
He looked up and grinned. “She’s pretty and sexy—and maybe that’s better than just beautiful.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Carter frowned. “Now where did you hear talk like that? And what do you know about sexy?”
Taylor rolled his eyes. “I may be only six, Dad, but I’m not stupid. I watch TV too.” He looked thoughtful. “Besides, men watch Rhea. You should go
after her again, Dad. Estelle said lots of men have asked Rhea to marry them. She told Jeannie you were lucky Rhea was still single when you came back.”
Kids were listeners. He and Rhea had always known everything that was going on in the adult world by just sitting around and listening.
“Well, I’ll keep your advice in mind, Taylor.” Carter tried to keep a straight face while he said it.
He got more advice from Alvin later that night. Al had come out to the bungalow to hang out with him and Taylor after their meetings were over. The two young men sat in the den now, shoes off, feet up on the coffee table, their attention half focused on a football game. Taylor, after the long flight and the afternoon with his grandfather, had crashed—and was upstairs asleep.
Alvin dipped a nacho into the cheese dip on the coffee table. “Great dip, man.”
Carter punched Alvin affectionately. “It doesn’t take a culinary degree to mix Velveeta cheese and Ro-Tel tomatoes.”
They munched in silence, focused on a tight play in the game.
“How are things going with Rhea Dean?” Alvin asked candidly as the halftime ensued.
“Not as well as I would have liked.” Carter filled him in briefly. Then he laughed. “My six-year-old son told me I ought to make a move on Rhea while we were flying over today. He says he thinks Rhea is sexy.”
Alvin almost choked on a chip. “Taylor said that?”
Carter nodded his head.
“Well, maybe the problem is that you’ve made a few too many moves without enough romancing.” He crossed his arms. “You know you gotta do the romancing stuff with women.”
He looked at Carter. “Have you asked her out on a date? Taken her to the movies or on a picnic or out to eat? Given her flowers? Bought her some special gift? Don’t you white boys know nothin’?”
Carter groaned. “Man, the way things have been going with Rhea, she’d probably slam down the phone if I asked.”
“Well, then you need to get sneaky. Find a way to get her to spend time with you without it feeling like a date—but let it turn out to be a date. Find ways to be sweet. Don’t leap on her every ten minutes.” He swigged down a long swallow of IBC root beer from its brown bottle. Alvin was a connoisseur of bottled root beers. “That’s how I got Felicia Denita Brown to start seeing things my way.”
He flashed a white smile at Carter. “She is one sweet woman, Miss Felicia Brown.”
Carter had heard Alvin talk about Felicia at length and met her before he went to Laurel Springs. “She’s too good-looking for you, Brother—and too nice.”
Alvin laughed. “Do you think Taylor would say she’s sexy?”
“Far be it from me to know the mind of a six-year-old. You’ll have to bring Felicia around and ask him.” Carter scooped up dip with a nacho and popped it into his mouth.
“I might do that. How long you going to be here?”
Carter frowned. “I’d planned to stay through the weekend originally, but Morgan’s putting pressure on me—so I think I’ll go on back Friday after the morning meeting at Quest.”
“He still thinking he can talk you into staying here full time?”
Alvin walked through to the kitchen to find another root beer.
“Yeah, he keeps coming up with a new pressure tactic. He’s got a good, strategic mind; I just wish he’d channel it in another direction.”
Alvin laughed. “You can’t blame him, Carter. You’re the best designer Quest has ever had. He’d be a fool, just in a business sense only, not to work to keep you here.”
“I’m going to continue to stay on with the company.” Carter scowled. “It’s not as though I’ve quit.”
“Well, sure, Bro—but it’s not the same.” Alvin punched his arm companionably as he sat back down with his root beer. “Even for me. I miss you, too.”
Carter smiled at him. “Back at you, Al. But I need to be at Laurel Springs right now. Maybe later I can spend more time here. Not get so much pressure from Morgan.” He paused, his smile fading. “He’s even putting pressure on Taylor, you know. I don’t like that.”
“Trying to get the boy to persuade you to come back?” Alvin turned to him with interest.
“That—and he puts pressure on Taylor to start thinking like an executive, to focus on his future with Quest and all the Benton businesses.” Carter clunked his root beer bottle down on the table in irritation. “The kid’s only six. He’s not ready to start running a dynasty.”
Alvin blew out a breath. “It was a blow to Morgan when Judith died like she did. He once said he figured she’d have a bunch of children one day to keep the line going. You know.”
“Yes, I know. It must be hard on him. But Taylor’s been through a hard time, too. He needs a season not to be so serious—to just be a kid. To get to do the things all boys do.” Carter gnawed on a thumbnail. “He deserves that.”
“Yeah.” Alvin’s attention shifted back to the TV as the game restarted. “Just don’t the two of you stay away too long. And maybe bring Rhea out here with you next time.”
“That would be a fiasco!” Carter snorted.
“I don’t think so.” Alvin shot him a glance between the game action. “She’s never been out here. Never been anywhere from what you told me. You own a nice house here near the beach.” He gave Carter a pointed look. “And, as a critical point, your former wife never lived here. You told me yourself you bought this house thinking Rhea Dean might like it.”
He nodded.
“So in time, this place can become your second home.” Alvin shoved a hand into the nacho bag to get out a few more chips. “You guys can come here for long vacations—and work trips—when Laurel Springs is in its slack season.” He grinned. “Or when you’ve hired and trained more staff to cover things. Rhea Dean may find she sort of likes the good life herself once she samples a taste.”
Carter thought of that throughout the evening as they watched the game. He had thought of Rhea when he chose the bungalow-style house set back from the road on a shaded lot.
Later, after Alvin left, Carter slipped in to check on Taylor before he went to bed. He found him bundled in a hump under the covers, surrounded as usual by a pile of stuffed animals.
“Dad,” a soft voice called as Carter started to slip out the door.
“Just checking on you, buddy.” He walked back over to Taylor’s bed and leaned over to give his son a kiss on the forehead.
Taylor sighed deeply. “Dad, I can’t remember Mom very well anymore. Grandaddy Benton is always saying ‘remember when she did this when you were two’ and ‘remember when you and Judith did that when you were three’ … but I don’t remember.”
He turned his face up to Carter’s, and the light from the hallway showed Carter a track of tears. “I feel real bad that I don’t remember but I never tell him. I don’t want him to think I’m bad.” He sniffed.
Carter patted his knee. “You’re a good boy, Taylor. And you need to know that no little kids remember much before they are four or five years old. Psychologists call it infantile amnesia; that means your brain isn’t developed enough to hold memory like it will later in your life.”
“But I remember some things.”
“Everyone has some random memories of their preschool years but they don’t have the focused memories they will have in their school years later on.” He rubbed Taylor’s leg. “A lot of times small children have seen pictures and heard stories so many times about their baby and toddler years that they think they remember things they actually don’t. I know some stories like that about my young years—ones that have been told to me again and again.”
Taylor chewed his lip. “What I remember most is Mom being sick. Not being able to walk or run. Needing to have Martha or her nurse dress her and feed her. I remember running around the yard or climbing in the tree and seeing her sitting in her wheelchair.” He hesitated. “I felt guilty a lot of times because I wasn’t sick and could run and play.”
Carter leaned over to kiss Ta
ylor again. “I felt that way, too, buddy. It seemed wrong to be able to live my life in a normal way when your mother was so sick—and when I knew she was dying.”
Taylor slipped a hand into his. “A person shouldn’t have to die when they’re young.”
“No.”
Anguished young eyes looked up at his then. “You won’t die, will you, Dad? Promise?”
Carter tucked the covers around Taylor. “I don’t plan to die anytime soon, Taylor. Most people live long, rich lives, like Grampa Layman and Nana Dean. I expect to do the same.” He squeezed Taylor’s hand. “But no one can promise another person they won’t die. It’s something we can’t totally know.”
Taylor sighed. “Okay.”
“Listen, Taylor, I can talk to your Grandaddy Benton, if you’d like. He may not realize all small children don’t remember the past well. He doesn’t mean to be hard on you.” He paused. “He’s hurting, losing his only child. It helps him to remember all the good times.”
“I know.” Taylor pulled a lop-eared stuffed dog closer to him. “He cries sometimes. Martha says he’s mad and angry that he couldn’t find a way to save Mom, even with all his money.”
“Martha said that to you?”
“No.” Taylor shook his head. “I heard her say that to Pickett.”
“I see.” Servants talked and children listened unobserved. “Listen, Taylor, I was going to stay through the weekend, but I think we might fly on back home on Friday after my Quest meeting if it’s all right. We won’t be able to go to the zoo, but maybe we can plan to go somewhere special around Cosby.”
“Okay.” Taylor’s voice brightened. “That will be cool.”
Obviously Taylor wasn’t very upset to leave early. Carter tucked him in again and stood up to leave.
“You know, Dad, I think I’m going to ask Grandaddy Benton to take me to the zoo tomorrow. He said he might take off work to spend some time with me. We could have a good time and talk about the animals.” He hesitated. “It might help him to get his mind off Mom, don’t you think?”