“Well, there is that,” Adrian agreed.
“Wait a second.” Rory waved a hand to get their attention. “I didn’t say John LeRoche was selling the house voluntarily. The First Bank of Galveston foreclosed on the property,” she said. Even though the bank had changed its name to Liberty Union National Bank when it changed owners, all the locals still called it by its original name. “John LeRoche has already lost Pearl Island.”
“The First Bank of Galveston foreclosed on John LeRoche?” Adrian’s laugh rumbled forth. “Yeah, right, sis. Now I know you’re pulling our leg. Nice try, though.”
“No, I’m telling y’all, it’s true. Don’t you see? This is our big chance.”
“Big chance for what?” Her brother gave the pot of rice an experimental jiggle.
Looking from her brother’s bored face to her sister’s worried one, she realized she’d gotten ahead of herself. “If y’all would come sit down for just a minute.” She took the mixing bowl away from Allison and put it on the chopping block that sat in the middle of the room beneath an assortment of hanging pots.
“Rory!” Allison protested, holding her hand under the spoon to catch any drips.
“Just for a minute.” She took the spoon and put it in the bowl. “This is important. Really.”
Her brother checked his watch to see how much time he had before he needed to leave for work. With a shrug, he joined them at the breakfast table. The open windows that overlooked the small backyard let in the salty smell of Galveston Bay.
Once they were seated, Rory took a deep breath and wondered where to begin. The dreams that crowded her mind had been there so long, she feared they’d come spilling out in a jumbled mess the second she started speaking.
“Okay.” She exhaled. “I have an idea. Actually, it’s something I’ve thought about forever, but I never mentioned it because it didn’t seem possible. Then I saw that sign today and I knew this was it —our big chance!”
“Our big chance for what, Rory?” Allison sighed.
Rory placed her hands palms-down on the table. “What would y’all think about opening a bed-and-breakfast?”
They both stared at her. Even Sadie cocked her head to the side.
“On Pearl Island?” her brother asked at last.
“Yes.” Rory sucked in air and felt as if she would float right off the ground. “What could be more perfect, since the place should rightfully have been ours anyway? But that’s beside the point. With its history and setting, people would come from all over to stay there. We could even offer scuba diving in the cove so guests could go down and see the old shipwreck. Adrian”—she reached out and took his hand—”you could be in charge of the cooking. And Allison”—she took her sister’s hand—”with your knowledge of antiques and flare for decorating, you could handle the remodeling. Maybe even open your own gift shop in the parlor.”
“But Rory,” Allison said, “who would run the inn?”
“I would.” Rory saw doubt enter their eyes and sat back. “All right, I’ll admit I’m not the most business-minded person, but we could hire a bookkeeper to help out with that and I’d handle the guests.” The skeptical looks grew deeper. “Come on, you have to admit you’d love to own your own business. Adrian, you wouldn’t have to put up with the head chef’s egomaniacal tantrums anymore. You could cook what you wanted, be the king of your own kitchen. And Alli, aren’t you tired of getting paid slave wages while making the owners of the Strand Emporium rich?”
Adrian and Allison looked at each other, then back at her. “There’s just one problem with your plan,” Adrian said. “We’d have to buy the place and restore it, which will likely cost a fortune, not to mention the other expenses involved in starting a business. I’m not sure we have that kind of money.”
“We have the money from Mom and Dad’s life insurance,” Rory pointed out.
“Which might cover the purchase price,” Adrian said, “if we manage to get the property at a steal, but it won’t come close to covering the rest.”
“Then we’ll take out a business loan,” Rory offered. “I already talked to Oliver Chancellor about it today.”
“Oliver Chancellor?” Allison’s eyes widened. “Of the banking Chancellors? You talked to a banker about this?”
“He was on Pearl Island, putting up the foreclosure sign,” Rory explained. “That’s how I found out about it.”
“And he agreed to give you a loan, just like that?” Adrian snapped his fingers.
“No, of course not,” she said. “But I bet he’ll help us apply for one.”
Adrian smirked. “Of course he will.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rory straightened.
He gestured toward her wild hair, tall body, and long legs exposed by her shorts. “Any male between puberty and senility generally agrees to give you anything.”
“It’s not like that.” Rory rolled her eyes. “Oliver Chancellor isn’t interested in me.” Good grief, she thought. They were so far apart socially, they might as well come from different planets.
Adrian gave her a pointed look. “You think just because he’s a scrawny geek he’s not interested in girls?”
“He’s not scrawny.” She frowned at her brother.
“But he is a geek,” Adrian pointed out.
“Well, yeah,” she admitted as she pictured Chance standing before her in his button-down dress shirt and wire-rimmed glasses. “I guess. But in a cute sort of way.”
“Oh, Rory,” Allison sighed. “Don’t do this to the poor guy. I remember him from school. He always seemed so nice.”
“Do what to him?” Rory asked.
“Break his heart,” Allison said. “Like you do all the boys.”
“I do not.” Rory snorted. Why did Adrian and Allison always accuse her of leading men around as if they were love-sick puppies? True, men in general tended to be nice to her, but that was because she was a friendly person, not because of how she looked. Sure, she was attractive— she’d have to be an idiot not to know that —but she didn’t come close to Allison’s fragile beauty. With a wave of her hand, she brushed the nonsense aside. “Do you think we could get back to the real subject here, which is the fact that Pearl Island is for sale? If we’re interested.”
Her brother shook his head. “Rory, I realize you are the original sunshine girl, but this idea is a bit far-fetched, even for you. No banker in his right mind is going to loan us the kind of money it would take to buy an entire island so we can open a bed-and-breakfast.”
“Well, it never hurts to ask,” Rory said.
“Rory.” Allison gave her fingers a squeeze. “It’s not that simple.”
“How do we know—if we don’t even try?”
Adrian cocked a brow at Allison. “She’s right, you know.”
“Adrian!” Allison scolded. “Don’t encourage her.”
“I’m just saying she’s right. We don’t know if we can or can’t do anything unless we look into it.”
“Then we’ll do it?” Rory brightened. “Together?”
“We didn’t say that.” Allison frowned at both of them.
“But you won’t get mad if I go down to the bank tomorrow and talk to Chance about it.”
“Do we have a choice?” Allison asked.
“Of course you do,” Rory insisted. “If you don’t want this dream, then what’s the use of me pursuing it? I don’t want to push you into anything. This is something we do together, for ourselves, or not at all. So, what do you say?”
Allison looked to their brother. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to look into it.”
“Are you kidding?” A devilish smile broke over Adrian’s face. “I’d kill to be in charge of my own kitchen. But Rory, I’m warning you not to get your hopes up. This is a one-in-a-million shot we’re talking about here.”
“I know,” she said. “But one in a million is better than nothing.”
He hesitated a moment before nodding. “All right.” Rising, he ruffled her hai
r. “You go for it, sis. In the meantime, I’m off to work.”
“Thanks, Adrian,” she called to him as he left the kitchen. Squeezing her sister’s hand, she added, “Something good is going to come of this. I can just feel it!”
Her sister looked less than convinced.
* * *
Chance welcomed the strong breeze as he stepped out onto his parents’ back deck. Worries over the LeRoche foreclosure had kept him on edge all evening, in spite of the good food and familiar company. He took a deep breath, willing his shoulders to relax.
An occasional light or sound of laughter came from the decks of neighboring houses along the golf course. Moonlight silvered the country club grounds, and in the distance the pulse of the gulf beat against miles of sandy beaches.
“Oh, I have missed this,” Paige sighed as she joined him at the rail. “There’s no place in the world that feels quite like Galveston. It’s as if the very air holds magic.”
A burst of night wind carried the scent of rain, and somewhere far out over the gulf, lightning flickered.
“Magic?” He leaned a hip against the rail to study her. She had the quiet, cultured sort of looks he found comfortable, with her pale blond hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. The diamond studs that sparkled at her ears complemented her silvery blue slip of a dress. Her dainty body had always made him feel masculine, even back in the days when he was a scrawny adolescent. Although now that he towered over her a full foot, he idly wondered how well they’d fit together in bed.
He pushed the image aside, feeling somewhat guilty for trying to picture the act of sex with Paige. For as long as he’d known her, Paige Baxter had possessed a pristine quality that discouraged base thoughts in her presence. He supposed, if they were going to be married, he needed to get over that.
The sliding glass door opened, and Chance turned as their parents joined them.
“Ellen, your dinner was superb as always,” Marcy Baxter said to his mother as the ladies made their way to the grouping of outdoor furniture amid the potted palms. The striped awning that shaded the deck during the day had been retracted so they could enjoy the stars. “I don’t suppose I could get the recipe for that praline flan?”
“I’m afraid even I can’t get it,” his mother laughed as she settled onto a cushioned settee. The long Oriental silk top she wore with wide-legged pants shimmered softly as she made herself comfortable. Even staring the age of sixty in the face, with threads of silver weaving through her brown hair, Ellen Chancellor was a handsome woman. “I made the dinner but Carmen made dessert and you know she never shares her recipes with anyone.”
“Well, you should make her give it to you,” Marcy said as she perched on a chair, tucking her short skirt about her legs. “She does work for you, after all.”
While Ellen accepted the advancing years with grace, her lifelong friend was fighting them every step of the way with dyed blond hair to hide the gray and the latest trends from Neiman Marcus.
“How about a cigar?” Chance’s father, Norman, asked Harry Baxter as the men headed for the outdoor bar beneath an overhang at the other end of the deck.
“I’d love one,” the land developer answered in his deep, booming voice. His short, powerful body provided a sharp contrast to Norman Chancellor’s tall, masculine grace.
“Harry,” Marcy warned her husband with a pointed look. “You know what the doctor said about your blood pressure.”
“Bah, one cigar every now and then isn’t going to kill me.” Harry selected a fat Cuban from the box Norman presented. Chance caught his father’s look of longing as Harry puffed the cigar to life. Since his heart attack two years ago, Norman had to settle for smoking by proxy.
“So”—Harry leaned back in the high-legged bar chair allowing his full stomach to relax—”what’s this rumor I hear about your bank foreclosing on Pearl Island?”
The tension snapped back into Chance’s shoulders.
“Hmm, what’s that?” Norm asked, distracted by a plume of aromatic smoke.
Chance closed his eyes as he waited for Harry to answer. He’d hoped he could tell his father about the foreclosure personally—and in private.
“One of the real estate agents I work with was out boating today,” Harry said. “Told me he saw a foreclosure sign in front of the house on Pearl Island.”
A heartbeat of silence followed in which Chance could almost hear the thoughts spinning through his father’s mind. The confidentiality of a bank customer was sacred to Norman Chancellor. He would never publicly humiliate anyone by putting up a foreclosure sign. But then, Norman Chancellor didn’t own the bank anymore. While the new owners had kept him on as bank president, they operated behind his back all too often, expecting Norman and his old-fashioned ways to be little more than window dressing to keep the Old Money accounts happy.
“Foreclosure? That’s nonsense.” Norm flashed a look in Chance’s direction, a look that demanded an explanation. Helpless, Chance gave his head an infinitesimal shake, letting his father know they’d talk about it later. Norm forced a laugh as he turned back to Harry. “The LeRoches have been depositors at the First Bank of Galveston since my ancestors founded the bank. I don’t care if it is the Liberty Union now, or if the LeRoches only vacation in Galveston these days, we still consider them locals. What’s the point of doing business with a local bank, if you aren’t extended a bit of leeway now and then?”
“Well, if anyone needs a bit of leeway right now, it would be John LeRoche,” Harry said. “From what I hear, his first wife took him to the cleaners, and that young model he’s taken up with is spending him out of house and home. Although,” Harry added with a booming laugh, “from the looks of her, maybe she’s worth it! Did you see the picture of her on the cover of that magazine? What’s the name of it?” he asked his wife.
“Glamour,” Marcy answered, her lips pursed with disapproval over John LeRoche’s behavior.
Seeing her expression, Norm cleared his throat. “If you want my opinion, few women are worth losing a fortune over, much less making a fool of yourself in public. As for the foreclosure, it’s bound to be a simple mistake.” He scrubbed his face with a long-fingered hand. “I’m telling you, Harry, sometimes I wonder about the folks I sold the bank to. It was the best decision from a business standpoint, just the way of the world in banking these days, but those East Coast Yankees don’t have a clue how we do business down here in the South. It’s as if the term ‘gentleman’s honor’ has no meaning to them.”
“I hear you there.” Harry puffed on the cigar.
“Chance,” his father said, “we’ll meet on this tomorrow. But first, find out who put up that damn sign and see that it’s taken down.”
“I’ll talk to Brian in loans about it,” Chance answered evasively, dreading the inevitable confrontation.
“Norman,” Chance’s mother scolded lightly. “Can’t you men talk about something other than work?”
“You’re right.” Norm nodded. “Sorry.”
“Miss Ellen?” Carmen, the housekeeper, appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “I have coffee ready if you like.”
“Oh, yes, I’d love some. Marcy?” Ellen asked her friend. “You’ll have some coffee, won’t you?”
“Only if it’s decaf,” Marcy answered.
“Chance? Paige?” his mother called. “What can Carmen get for you?”
“Nothing, I’m fine,” Chance answered, suddenly eager to escape the entire evening. “Paige, do you want anything?”
“Actually”—she hesitated—”I think I’d prefer a walk.”
Her face tipped up to his, and he saw perfect understanding in her eyes. It was this knack she had for reading him that had drawn him to her from the first. For as long as he could remember, Paige had always been there, at her parents’ house just up the street, ready to listen to his problems. “Would you like to go with me?”
“Yes, I would.” He smiled and moved his arm so she could link her hands about his elbow.
>
“Paige, dear, don’t forget your sweater,” Marcy Baxter said. “It feels like that storm is moving in.”
“Yes, ma’am.” With a barely audible sigh, Paige ducked back inside and returned with a lightweight cardigan.
Chance took the sweater and draped it over Paige’s shoulders before they descended the wooden steps and headed for the golf-cart path. With the neighborhood located on the west end of the island, where the ground barely rose above sea level, all the houses were elevated. Garages and storage rooms filled in the ground level with the living areas above. The houses on the gulf side of the street backed up to the golf course. Houses on the bay side, like the Baxters’, were set on a series of canals with boat docks in back.
The moment they passed a row of oleanders that shielded them from their parents, Paige pulled the sweater from her shoulders and draped it over one arm. Overhead, the wind rustled the palm trees that lined the path.
“I take it all is not well at the bank?” Paige asked quietly.
“You might say that.” Chance snorted, wondering where to begin. So much had happened while Paige had been off at college. They’d kept loosely in touch, but only saw each other when she was home. And then she’d spent most of her time with her friends from McConnell High, the private school she’d attended.
Dating would have been easier if she’d gone straight to college after high school, but she’d waited four years. So, while he and most of her friends were at UT, she’d been in Galveston. Then when he’d returned home, she’d left, which had delayed any serious involvement.
That arrangement had suited them both. Though they’d never discussed it openly, they each knew that someday they’d marry. Chance had decided it would be best if they tested other waters while they were still young, rather than spend their entire lives together. Since Paige hadn’t objected, he assumed she felt the same.
They strolled easily together, with him shortening his long-legged stride. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
About our marriage? he wondered, having lost the thread of the conversation. Then he remembered the bank and laughed at himself. “Actually, my mother’s right. I talk about work too much. I’d rather talk about you.”
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