Sanctuary Cove

by Rochelle Alers

  “Are you going to observe the ritual now or during the summer months?” Asa asked.

  “I’ll keep the tradition year-round. It will give us a chance to put everything in order. It will also give us time to relax with a midday snack and set up for tea.”

  Lowering his arms, Asa rested a hand on Deborah’s back. She stiffened, then relaxed against his outstretched fingers. “I just thought of something.”

  Shifting slightly, she met his eyes. “What?”

  “Did you have a book discussion group in your Charleston bookstore?”

  Deborah shook her head. “No. I’d tried setting one up, but most of my customers were too busy to commit.”

  “I think it would work well here,” Asa said, “because there are a lot retirees and snowbirds. You can hold it every two weeks, which means they would have to buy at least two books a month. That would definitely guarantee sales.”

  “Are you certain you never ran a bookstore before?” she joked.

  He smiled, attractive lines fanning out around his eyes. “Very certain.”

  “What did you do before you retired?”

  “I worked in a hospital.”

  “Were you a doctor?”

  Asa’s chest tightened. “Yes,” he quickly changed the subject before she could probe further. “So, how are you going to run this book club of yours?”

  “Well, if I’m going to moderate the discussions, then I’ll have to read the books, too.”

  “You’re a former English literature instructor. Select something you’ve already read.”

  Deborah froze. “Who told you I was a teacher?”

  “Mabel did when she dropped off the muffins and coffee. She said she’d expected you to become a librarian because you were always obsessed with books.”

  Deborah paled for a moment, but shrugged it off quickly. “And I’d predicted that she would become a pastry chef. Whenever there was a cooking contest Mabel always came in first place. She’s established a reputation for making the best piecrusts in the Lowcountry.”

  “Does she ever sell pies in her shop?”

  “Pies and cakes are special orders. Her husband Lester is the cake man.”

  “Are you going to get them to provide the tea cakes? And will the ladies be required to wear fancy hats whenever they come for high tea?” Lifting his chin, he peered down his nose as if he’d detected something malodorous.

  Deborah gave him a soft punch to his shoulder. “Stop it! It’s not nice to begrudge our genteel Sanctuary Cove ladies.”

  Asa rested his hands on her shoulders. “I wouldn’t dare. After all, you just happen to be one of those genteel ladies.”

  “You think?”

  He nodded. “I know. You are incredible.”

  Asa fought against the tumult of emotions that left him feeling off-balance. It was as if he was metal and she was a powerful magnet, drawing him in, holding him captive. With each encounter he found it more and more difficult to relate to her not as an employer but as a woman.

  She looked up at him, an unsure expression on her face. “Please, Asa…”

  His hands fell away. “I’m not coming onto you, Deborah.”

  She took a step back, putting some distance between them. “Did I imply you were?”

  He angled his head, giving her a long, penetrating stare. “No. But, if it makes you uncomfortable, then I won’t touch you again.”

  “Did I say it made me uncomfortable?” she replied smoothly.

  Asa crossed his arms over his chest in a gesture that had become very familiar to Deborah. “You don’t have to say it. You freeze up even if I inadvertently brush against you. I’m not a sexual predator, so put your mind at ease that you’re not going to be attacked when you least expect it. I’m forty-six years old and I’ve never had to force my attentions on any woman, and I’m not about to do it now.”

  Deborah watched him walk to the back of the bookstore. “Where are you going?”

  He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Out for a smoke.”

  Her eyelids fluttered. “But you don’t smoke.”

  Asa turned, glaring at her. “Maybe it’s time I start.”

  The seconds ticked as they continued to stare at each other. “My husband wasn’t a touchy-feely person,” she finally admitted.

  Asa nodded. “Well, maybe what you need after a stressful few days is a friend who is.”

  He extended his arms, beckoning her closer.

  She took a step, anchoring her arms under his shoulders, and found herself enveloped in his embrace, making Asa feel things he didn’t want to feel. The runaway beating of her heart slowed until it resumed a normal rhythm.

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Deborah said, burying her face in the crux of his shoulder.

  Asa pressed his mouth to her hair, the curls piled atop her head tickling his nose. “I think we’ve done enough apologizing for one day, and definitely no pity parties.”

  Asa heard Deborah’s audible sigh before she pulled out of his embrace. A tap sounded at the front door. “You’re right. That’s either the electrician or the furniture delivery.” As she walked away, Asa realized how much he already missed having his arms around her.

  Chapter Nine

  Whoever it was, Asa cursed their timing. Holding Deborah, burying his face in her hair, felt so natural, as if he’d executed the motion countless times. She looked nothing like Claire, but holding Deborah had reminded him of what he missed.

  Asa was a touchy-feely person, and touching Deborah made him feel more alive than he’d been in over a year. She had become a constant reminder that he was a man with physical urges he had managed to repress. Women had come on to him at the boardinghouse, but with them he’d felt nothing.

  However, it was different with Deborah. Asa didn’t know whether it was because they’d lost their spouses, or if it was glimpses of vulnerability he saw in Deborah that appealed to his protective instincts, but he knew that he wanted her for more than friendship.

  Snapping out of his thoughts, Asa realized it hadn’t been the furniture delivery, but the electrician, who’d arrived carrying an oversized sailcloth satchel containing his tools. Peter Raney returned to his van and brought in cartons filled with the ceiling fans and track lighting Deborah had requested.

  “Where do you want the fans, Mrs. Robinson?”

  “I’d like you to replace the light fixture in the front and the one behind the loveseat with the fans. I have Tiffany-style globes to cover the other naked bulbs. But, there is one more thing I’d like you to do.” The slightly built, pale man had a sparse graying pate and watery blue eyes that looked like they belonged on a heavy-lidded owl, and the bored expression on his face did not change.

  “What’s that?”

  “I need a doorbell.”

  Peter squinted. “I just may have one in my bag. May I suggest something, Mrs. Robinson?” Deborah nodded. “I think you should replace your front door with a decorative one with beveled glass. It would let in light while still providing some privacy.”

  A blush made its way across her cheeks. There was no doubt the electrician was referring to the newspaper taped to the door to keep out prying eyes. “I’m planning on hosting my grand opening tomorrow.”

  “I can have it installed today,” Peter said. “I’ll measure the doorframe, then call my son and have him pick up one on the mainland. I’m not certain how much you want to spend, but a nice fiberglass door will probably run you, including installation, around seven-fifty. You’d want a storm-type door that will convert from glass to a screen to protect it from the saltwater. That’s probably another three hundred. Both doors are a nice investment that will enhance the look of your store. What else do you need?”

  “There are two ceiling fans in the upstairs apartment that work but make a lot of noise.”

  He gave her a rare smile. “I’ll check them first. If they’re bad, then I’ll have my boy pick up a couple for you when he goes to get the doors. By the way, it l
ooks real nice in here.”

  “Thank you. I know every dollar spent in the bookstore is a needed business expense.” She paused before turning back to Peter. “You can put in the doors.”

  Asa came up behind Deborah when the electrician went to measure the door. “He’s right about replacing the front door.”

  She glanced up at him over her shoulder. “What about the back door?”

  “There’s no need to replace it because it’s made with reinforced steel. Are you going to install a security system?”

  Deborah shook her head. “No. Only the bank and the pharmacy have security systems that are connected to the sheriff’s office. The pharmacy has to have one because of the drugs and because it also houses the post office. In case you haven’t noticed, all of Main Street, including the business district and waterfront, is monitored by cameras. Unfortunately some kids decided it was fun to leave their tags around the Cove. Though not a serious problem yet, the town council voted to install them. As soon as they went up the vandalism stopped.”

  “The sheriff looks like he’s no-nonsense.” When Asa had sat in at the town meeting he’d noticed that Jeffrey Hamilton hadn’t smiled once.

  “He gave the Marine Corps twenty years before becoming sheriff. Jeff would lock up his grandmother if she spat on the sidewalk. He grew up on the Cove, but has relatives in Angels Landing and Haven Creek. Folks called him Sheriff Buford Pusser from the Walking Tall movie after he caught some kids who’d come over from the mainland shooting up drugs in the schoolyard late one night. One came at him with a baseball bat, while another pulled a gun. He managed to get the bat and that was all she wrote. The boy with the gun ended up with two broken arms and the other was so lumped up that he couldn’t see out both eyes for at least a week.”

  “Damn,” Asa drawled.

  “That’s what I said when I heard the story. He’s the sheriff for the entire island. He also supervises part-time deputies in the other towns.”

  “Why don’t they have their own sheriffs?”

  “They did at one time, but when they restructured their budget the mayors decided to pay Jeff to police their towns, too. The deputies are retired police, probation, and corrections officers who accepted the positions to supplement their pensions.” Knocking interrupted their conversation, this time on the back door. Deborah smiled at Asa. “That must be the furniture delivery.” She walked to the door, Asa following close behind.

  He opened the door for her. “Yes?”

  A burly man in a pair of overalls touched the brim of his oversized cap. “I have a furniture delivery for…” He squinted at his work order. “It looks like D. Robinson.”

  “You can bring it in.” Waiting until the man went back to his truck, Asa turned to Deborah. “You can show them where you want them to put the furniture, while I’ll hang out down here.”

  “You’ll have to move the piano to put down one rug, and the other will go in the sitting area.”

  “Don’t stress yourself, Debs. I’ll take care of whatever it is you need.”

  “No, you didn’t call me Debs.”

  Asa winked at her. “Yes I did. Don’t you call yourself that?”

  Her dark eyes sparkling in amusement, Deborah stared at Asa’s smiling mouth. “Yes, but only my good friends call me Debs.”

  Asa leaned closer. “What about me, Debs? Am I not your good friend?”

  He held his breath, hoping that she considered him a friend, wanting to become so much more. He was friend, protector, and guardian angel. “Yes. Right now you’re my best friend.”

  He winked at her. “I like that. I’ve known a few girls who were called Debbie, but not Debs.”

  “Mabel shortened my name to Debs and it stuck. Very few folks on the Cove call me Deborah. My mother named me after her mother, who thought I was the best thing to come along since sliced bread because I was her first grandchild.”

  “Is she still alive?”

  “No. She died two years ago. She’d moved to Florida because she couldn’t take the cold weather, but when she was diagnosed with dementia my parents relocated to be close to her. When she began going outdoors alone and the police would bring her home dehydrated with second and occasionally third degree burns, Mom knew she had to put her in a skilled nursing facility. Once there she declined rapidly, losing control of her bodily functions. I flew down to see her and the doctor had to sedate me. I lost it when I saw her strapped to her bed. But I understood why they had to do it. She’d begun hallucinating and calling for my grandfather who’d died many years before. I was in the airport on my way back to South Carolina when my dad called to tell me that my grandmother had passed away. She was lucid for the first time in years and had told him that she wanted to see me. That was a dark period in my life because I’d lost three grandparents within the span of five years. I guess that’s why I tell my children every day that I love them.”

  “I know you’re a widow, but you’re lucky to have your children.”

  Deborah pulled her lips between her teeth. “I’m more than lucky. I’m blessed. Do you have any, Asa?”

  A beat passed. “No, I don’t.” He was saved from having to explain how he’d lost his only child when one of the delivery men, balancing a box spring on his shoulder, came through the door.

  Deborah nodded to the man. “Please follow me. It goes upstairs.”

  She preceded him up the staircase, standing aside while he placed it on the springs of the massive antique iron bed. It had taken a lot of straining, but Asa soon appeared to help and together, they’d managed to pull the bed from the corner to the middle of the room. With the bed dressing, shades, wardrobe, and other accessories the apartment began to take on a homey atmosphere.

  Peter, who’d taken the cover off the wall switch, flipped it several times and the blades to the fans turned slowly until they were whirling on the fastest speed. “The noise was because they were off-kilter.”

  Deborah smiled, causing Asa’s heart to skip a beat. “Thank goodness for that.”

  “I’ll replace the wires because they look a little frayed.”

  “Thank you, Peter.”

  Deborah stored the rest of the linens in the drawers at the bottom of the wardrobe after she made up the bed. When she’d ordered it she thought of what Crystal had said about moving into the apartment once she attended college. There had to be enough space for her to hang her clothes and drawers to store her lingerie, tees, and whatever else she needed to wear. There was still another three years before her daughter would graduate high school, and that was enough time for her to decide whether she would attend a local or out-of-town college. Or maybe Whitney would make use of the apartment should he decide to attend college in Charleston, rather than going away to Howard.

  She overheard Peter, who’d replaced the cover to the wall switch, call his son and tell him what he needed, while she tore open the package to the slipcovers. Cursing under her breath, Deborah saw that she had to steam the wrinkles and creases.

  “What’s the matter?” Asa asked when she returned to the bookstore and opened the desk drawer, reaching for her key fob.

  “I have to go home and get my steamer.”

  “For what?”

  “I bought slipcovers for the chair and sofa, but they’re wrinkled.”

  Asa took the key fob from her loose grip, pushing it into the pocket of his slacks. “No, Deborah. I’m not moving in tonight, so the wrinkles can wait. They’ll probably fall out over time, so don’t stress yourself out about it.”

  “When are you moving in?”

  “Probably not until Monday or Tuesday. And I’m certain when I do move in the apartment will be lovely.”

  A smile like sunshine brightened her face. “The ceiling fans are quieter now.”

  Deborah didn’t know why, but she wanted Asa to lower his head and kiss her. Not a passionate open-mouth kiss, but one that would allow her to see if he was as sweet as he looked. He stared at her under lowered lids. “Good.”


  “And I made up your bed.”

  “Thank you.”

  Deborah’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “I hope Peter will be finished by four, but if he isn’t can you hang out here until he is? I have a hair appointment and probably won’t be finished until six.”

  Asa nodded. “No problem.”

  Pushing her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, Deborah pulled the denim taut over her hips as she stared at the rug under the piano. “Did you have a problem moving the piano?”

  “Piece of cake,” Asa crooned, walking over to the piano and sitting on the bench. Resting his hands on the keys he began to play, his fingers caressing the ivory.

  Deborah felt her pulse quicken. She played piano, but even after years of lessons and recitals her skill wouldn’t begin to match Asa’s. Closing her eyes, she swayed gently. She opened them when Peter walked over to listen and they shared a knowing smile. No words were needed.

  “That was real pretty,” Peter said when the last note faded. Asa nodded. “Excuse me, but I’d better get to work.”

  Sitting on the bench beside Asa, Deborah leaned into him. “Where did you learn to play like that?”

  He stared at his hands resting in his lap. “Practice, practice, and more practice.”

  “I practiced until my fingers bled, and I still couldn’t play ‘Bella’s Lullaby’ like you just did.”

  A hint of a smile tilted the corners of Asa’s mouth. “So you recognized it?”

  “There’s no way I wouldn’t. My daughter is obsessed with the Twilight Saga. She’s read the four books at least twice and I’ve lost count how many times she’s watched the DVDs.”

  “These young girls seem to be fascinated with vampires.”

  “Well, you have to admit that Edward is somewhat of a sexy vampire.”

  “Please don’t tell me that you were one of those mothers who stood in line with their daughters to catch the midnight premiere.”

  Deborah folded her hands at her waist. “I was. There was no way I was going to let my child go to a movie theater that time of night without my supervision.” She flashed a sheepish grin. “I think I would’ve enjoyed the film more if I hadn’t had to deal with a theater filled with teenage girls screaming hysterically whenever Edward kissed Bella.”