She followed the sign directing her to the meeting room. The mayor and his town council met the second Tuesday of each month to bring residents up to date on proposed new ordinances, budget items, and reports from department heads, including but not limited to transportation, engineering, housing, fire, police, and the school board.
Walking into the brightly lit room, she took an empty chair near the front. Deborah had barely settled on the folding chair when a shadow loomed over her. Her head popped up and she stared at Asa Monroe, trying to ignore the shiver of awareness that eddied over her body. Barbara was right. Seeing him up close Deborah concluded Asa was truly delicious.
Her eyebrows lifted a fraction. “Are you stalking me, Mr. Monroe?”
Asa gestured to the chair beside her. “Is someone sitting here?” he asked.
“No. Please sit. You didn’t answer my question,” Deborah said. He sat down, looping one leg over the opposite knee. She stared at the toe of his running shoe. Tonight he wore a white cotton V-necked pullover with a pair of jeans.
“I’m not stalking you, Mrs….”
“It’s Ms. Robinson.”
“Does Ms. Robinson have a first name? Because it seems as if everyone in Sanctuary Cove is on a first-name basis.”
Deborah stared at his distinctive profile. His strong jaw was smooth from a recent shave and the scent of his cologne was like the man—potent. “Deborah.”
He extended his hand. “It’s nice putting a name with a face. It’s my pleasure, Deborah.”
She stared at the broad palm with long, slender well-groomed fingers for several seconds before she took it. Even his hands were perfect. “Nice meeting you, Asa.”
“I’m not stalking you,” he said with a grin, “I was told that non-residents are welcome to attend a town council meeting and voice their opinions.”
Lowering her eyes, Deborah felt properly chastised. How could she have been that self-centered? Asa had smiled at her—something men in the Cove did every day, while she’d believed he was stalking her. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, withdrawing her hand from his firm grip.
“For what?”
Deborah gave him a direct stare. “For accusing you of stalking me.” Asa continued to smile, attractive lines fanning out around his eyes, drawing her gaze to his straight, white teeth.
“There’s no need to apologize. Sanctuary Cove is not that big, so there is always the possibility of running into the same people several times a day.”
She nodded. “You’re right. How many meetings have you attended?”
“This is my first. How many have you attended?” Asa asked.
Deborah stared straight ahead. “This is also my first.”
“I thought—”
“Hey, Debs,” Mabel called out as she walked into the room. “Nice seeing you, Asa,” she added, giving him a friendly smile.
“Same here,” Asa acknowledged.
“Was I interrupting something?” Mabel asked, her gaze shifting from Deborah to Asa.
“No,” Deborah and Asa said in unison.
“Please excuse us, Asa, but I need to talk to Deborah,” Mabel said, sitting on Deborah’s left and patting her knee. “As soon as you’re finished settling in Les and I would like to have you and your kids over for Sunday dinner.”
Deborah leaned to her left, her shoulder touching Mabel’s. “There’s not much I have to do at the house, but it’s the bookstore that’s taking up most of my time.”
She’d taken out a home improvement loan to make repairs, update, expand and redecorate the house, because she and Louis had planned to use it as their permanent residence after they’d retired. All of the rooms were painted, a new roof replaced the old one, and the clapboard siding was restored with white vinyl. The navy-blue shutters, a new front porch, and the expanded back porch made the near century-old structure a standout on the Cove, especially when compared to some of the smaller homes on the island. Up until thirty years ago some of them still hadn’t had indoor plumbing.
Upon the advice of the contractor, she hadn’t bricked up the kitchen fireplace. It added to the character of the room with its exposed brick walls. And on the occasional cool evening she would light a fire and either roast marshmallows with her children or sit and read ghost stories to them by the light of the flames.
When her great-grandfather built the house he’d designed it with two fireplaces: one in the kitchen and another in a separate outdoor structure as was the custom. The exterior building and fireplace had been destroyed when a hurricane swept the island in 1917.
“Do you want some help? After we close the Muffin Corner I could come over and help you unpack.”
Deborah shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks. The shelves are up and the only thing left to do is to stack books. As soon as the piano and a few other pieces of furniture are delivered The Parlor will open for business. What I’m going to need from you is muffins.”
Mabel ran a hand over her braided hair. “You need muffins?”
“Yes. I plan to set up a reading corner and I’d like to offer my customers something to munch on if they decide to browse or hang out for a while. I’m not going to serve coffee, because that would conflict with your business, but gourmet tea. If they want coffee, then they can get it at the Muffin Corner.”
“That’s great!” Mabel crooned. “It sounds as if you’re going to bring a little class to the Cove and keep the parlor theme. That’s what made your Charleston bookstore so different from the others. Do you realize what’s going to happen?”
“No. What?” Deborah asked, staring at Mabel’s gap-toothed grin.
“You’re going to get folks who’ll come in and sit so long they’re going to leave a distinct imprint of their behinds on your chairs.”
She smiled. “I don’t mind as long as they’re paying customers. I’m not going to be able to compete with the chain bookstores on the mainland, but if anyone wants a title I can call a distributor and get it within two to three days.”
“Are you going…” Whatever Mabel was going to say died on her lips when the mayor and members of the town council filed in, taking seats at the table in the front of the room.
Lowering his leg, Asa settled back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, while cursing Mabel Kelly’s timing. Just when his attempt to engage Deborah Robinson in conversation had begun, it was thwarted by the owner of the Muffin Corner. He’d been in Sanctuary Cove for a little more than two months, and Deborah Robinson was the first woman who’d made him sit up and take notice. Her face was flawless, with a light sprinkling of freckles over the bridge of her nose, high cheekbones, and a lush mouth. When she smiled it just wasn’t with her mouth, but also her eyes. And they’d sparkled with laughter during the brief seconds they’d stared at each other in the Muffin Corner and again at Jack’s. He glanced at her bare fingers. Deborah had introduced herself as Ms. Robinson, which probably meant she was either unmarried and/or divorced, and what he hadn’t realized during those seconds in the little pastry shop was that she was someone he’d like to get to know better.
Mayor Spencer White rapped his gavel, calling the meeting to order. He had earned the distinction of becoming a third generation mayor of the Cove. His grandfather had been the Cove’s first black mayor, serving six four-year terms. Spencer’s father then ran for the vacated office and won. He hadn’t completed his second term, when he resigned to care for his wife who’d been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Spencer served out his father’s term, and then ran unopposed in the subsequent election. He had married a model-turned-actress, who’d spent more than half of their brief two-year marriage in Los Angeles. They’d parted amicably, and as a lawyer with movie star looks, he joined the ranks of a small number of single men on Cavanaugh Island who were under the age of forty.
“If I wasn’t married to Lester I would definitely ask our illustrious mayor to park his slippers under my bed,” Mabel whispered to Deborah through clenched teeth. “Damn! He makes Bla
ir Underwood look ugly. And, we both know that man is some kinda fine!”
Deborah pressed the back of her hand to her lips to conceal the smile tilting the corners of her mouth. She could always count on Barbara and Mabel to make her laugh. There had been a time growing up that she’d laughed a lot. But that had changed once she married and became a mother. She’d married at twenty, had become a mother for the first time at twenty-one, and it had taken careful planning and budgeting to stretch her husband’s paycheck. They rented movies instead of going to the theater, delegated one day a month when they went out to eat, and she’d packed home-cooked nutritional lunches for Louis to heat up in the teachers’ lounge microwave.
At twenty-three, when Deborah Robinson should have been teaching, jetting off to exotic locales for vacations, socializing in clubs and dating like other young women her age, she was proficient enough to go toe-to-toe with Martha Stewart as a goddess of homemaking.
“I think Blair is better looking,” she whispered.
“I think so, too,” Mabel paused, glancing in Asa’s direction, “but you have to admit that Asa is nice on the eyes,” Mabel whispered back.
Deborah nodded. It was the second time within a week that a woman had talked about Asa being eye candy. Yes, she had to admit he was delicious-looking eye candy, but also a snowbird, and that made him a transient.
Spencer straightened his tie as he cleared his voice, garnering the attention of all in the room. He was the only one sitting at the table wearing a suit and tie. Sanctuary Cove was like its residents—laidback and unpretentious.
“I’d like to thank everyone for coming out tonight. Before we start our official meeting I’d like to acknowledge a few new faces. Those who are here for the first time should know you’re always welcome.” He stared directly at Deborah. “Mrs. Robinson, on behalf of those on the town council and all who live in the Cove I would like to offer my condolences for your husband’s accidental drowning as he tried to rescue a young man. He truly was a hero, and if there is anything you or your children need, please do not hesitate to call my office.”
Deborah swallowed to relieve the constriction in her throat as a swell of emotion made it difficult for her to draw a normal breath, because she hadn’t expected Spencer to put her on the spot. But she should have known he would acknowledge everyone in town, new and old. His tone and words, along with his cropped hair, tailored suit, flawless brown skin, and even features, made him the consummate politician. She wondered if he would be content to remain mayor of Sanctuary Cove, or whether he might set his sights on a position with more visibility—something loftier.
“Thank you, Mayor White.”
Spencer nodded. “For those who are unfamiliar with Deborah Robinson, she is the granddaughter of our own Sallie Ann and James Williams.” He paused when there was a spatter of applause. “My office also has received official notification that the Robinsons will now make Sanctuary Cove their legal residence.” He flashed a toothpaste-ad smile. “Welcome home, Deborah.”
Eyelids fluttering to stem the flow of tears pricking the backs of her lids, Deborah flashed a demure smile. “Thank you again.”
Spencer’s eyebrows lifted a fraction as he returned her smile. “Isn’t there something else you’d like to tell your fellow residents?”
All eyes were trained on Deborah as she stared straight ahead. What was he talking about? Did the mayor know something she should have known? A pregnant silence ensued until it finally came to her. “Yes, there is. I’ll be opening a bookstore at the corner of Main and Moss Alley.” Her announcement was followed by rousing applause. “If any of you know someone looking for a part-time position, please tell them to stop by the old gift shop off Moss Alley.”
“When do you expect your grand opening?” Spencer asked, flashing a practiced smile.
“I’ll call your office and let you know so we can have a ribbon-cutting ceremony.” Deborah almost burst out laughing when she saw his smile fade, as if someone had stuck Spencer with a sharp object. She’d usurped him, because she knew he’d wanted to mention the ribbon-cutting that had become an important component of his administration.
“Let’s hope it’s soon.” Shifting his attention from Deborah to another, Spencer nodded to an elderly couple sitting in the front row. “Sir, madam, do you mind telling us why you’ve come to Sanctuary Cove?”
“I’m Shelly Miner and this is my husband Ralph. We’re from Edina, Minnesota,” the wife announced proudly, “and as snowbirds we usually winter in a different place every year. This year it’s Sanctuary Cove.” She held up a hand. “And before you ask, Mayor White, I know I speak for Ralph as well when I say your town is wonderful.” Shifting on her chair, she wagged a finger at Deborah. “And, young lady, I’ll be waiting for you to open that bookstore.”
Spencer laughed with the others. He gestured to Asa. “Sir, do you mind telling us what brought you to Sanctuary Cove?”
“I’m Asa Monroe. I’m a first-time snowbird, and this is my first visit to the Carolina Lowcountry and hopefully it won’t be my last.”
“Are you enjoying your stay, Mr. Monroe?” Spencer asked.
Asa smiled. “Most definitely.”
Spencer smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Perhaps we can get you and Mr. and Mrs. Miner to consider living here year-round.”
“It is something to think about,” Asa said.
“Try not to think too hard, Mr. Monroe.” Again, there was laughter.
There were more introductions before Spencer White rapped his gavel, officially opening the meeting. There were reports from Sheriff Jeffrey Hamilton; the commissioner of roads and transportation, who informed the assembly that Sanctuary Cove had been awarded a grant from the state to repair the sidewalks and parking lots in the business district; and a very lengthy report from the town’s treasurer. Then Spencer rapped his gavel again, announcing a fifteen-minute recess.
Asa checked his watch. It was eight-fifteen. He’d come to the library to look for something to read, but when he checked the community bulletin board in the lobby and found the announcement for the open town council meeting he’d decided to stay and observe some of the proceedings.
What he hadn’t expected to find was the woman who’d occupied his thoughts since the first time he saw her. Now that he knew her name and that she was opening a bookstore, there was no reason for him to stay for the remainder of the meeting.
Asa saw Deborah talking with the sheriff, the lawman tucking a curl that had escaped the elastic band on the nape of her neck behind Deborah’s ear. The scene was so tender and intimate that he felt like a voyeur. Mixed feelings surged through Asa. He found himself lusting after a woman he knew nothing about, other than her name, that she was going to open a bookstore, and that she had a teenage son. He knew Jeffrey Hamilton wasn’t married, so there was the remote possibility that he and Deborah were seeing each other. However, in a town as small as Sanctuary Cove it would be easy enough to find out.
He left the library and began walking back to the Cove Inn. The library was a twenty-minute brisk walk to the boardinghouse, and now he wished he’d driven. Walking allowed him time to think—something he hadn’t wanted to do. At least inside his Range Rover he could turn on the radio or listen to a CD. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, Asa stared straight ahead as he made his way back to what he thought of as his temporary home.
Once he closed the door to his room, he could grieve without having to explain to anyone why he didn’t want to talk. Asa knew he had to do something to keep himself busy. He was forty-six, much too young to retire, although financially he could maintain a very comfortable lifestyle well into old age. He’d closed his practice, referred his patients to another physician, put his house on the market, and submitted an application to Doctors Without Borders.
He couldn’t remain in Sanctuary and continue to do the same thing every day: get up and share a buffet breakfast with the other guests, go for a walk along the beach, return to sit on the porc
h and read for hours, sit down to dine with the same guests, then retreat to his bedroom to watch aimless hours of television before preparing for bed.
“Mr. Monroe.”
Asa turned when he heard someone call his name. Sitting on a stone bench near the fountain in the town square was Rachel Dukes’s brother-in law and the boardinghouse’s handyman. It was nearly impossible to pinpoint his age despite the lines and creases in his lean jaw and forehead. The man’s coloring and features reminded Asa of ebony African masks he’d seen at craft shows and museums. He wore a short-sleeved white shirt with a pair of sharply creased khakis.
Asa extended his hand. “Good evening, Mr. Walker.”
“That it is,” Jake Walker replied. Asa shook the proffered well-groomed hand. “Nice night for walking or sitting outside.” Jake gestured to several couples sitting across the square. “They think so, too.”
Since he’d moved into the boardinghouse, Asa couldn’t remember hearing the taciturn man say any more than morning or evening. “That it is,” he said. The square was brightly lit and nighttime temperatures were in the low seventies.
“Sit down and rest yourself, Mr. Monroe.” Waiting until Asa sat facing him, Jake smiled as a network of fine lines fanned out around his raven-black eyes. “You came from the meeting?”
Asa nodded, smiling. “Yes.”
“How did you like it?”
“It was interesting.”
“Interesting how?”
“I would have never anticipated the mayor would ask tourists to introduce themselves.”
Crossing his feet at the ankles, Jake stared at the toes of his scuffed work boots. “We do things different ’round here, ’specially now with Spencer White as the new mayor. He is a little bit of a blowhard, but we think he really wants the best for the Cove.”
Asa wanted to tell Jake that the man was more pompous than a blowhard, and was probably using his position as mayor as a stepping stone to advance his political career. “What about the mayors in Haven Creek and Angels Landing?”
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