“What about him?” Hope asked softly.
“I came back late one night and noticed his Lexus parked in your driveway.”
“How late?”
“I know it was after midnight.”
“Mrs. Cinderella, you know you shouldn’t be out after the clock strikes twelve,” she teased.
Rebecca blushed. “Don’t change the topic, girlfriend. What’s up with you and Theo?”
Hope took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She and Marissa talked several times each week, and not once had she mentioned Theo to her sister. “We’ve been sleeping together.”
“Sleeping together or making love?”
“Is there a difference?”
Rebecca looked startled. “Of course there’s a difference. Ezra and I slept together without making love.”
“Theo and I sleep together, and we also make love.”
Pressing her palms together, Rebecca wrinkled her delicate nose. “Good for you. I think he’s perfect for you.”
Hope wanted to believe he was perfect, too, but she held her tongue. Theo came to her house every night, and they’d lie in bed discussing his scripts. His knowledge of the human psyche was uncanny once he developed a character. He revealed that in college he had majored in English with a minor in psychology, which had served him well once he’d entered film school.
But whenever they did not talk about his work, they made love. Each encounter was different, more exciting, and satisfying. In Theodore Howell she had found her sexual counterpart, her physical and intellectual soul mate.
The sound of an approaching vehicle brought Rebecca to her feet. Hands on her slim hips, she watched her husband maneuver into the driveway behind her car. Ashlee and Kyle were out of the BMW before Lee shut off the engine. They raced up the porch and hugged their mother.
“I can’t believe it. This was the longest week of my life,” Ashlee moaned.
Rebecca kissed her son and daughter. “What do you want to do?”
“Can we go over to see Brandon and Noelle?” Kyle asked.
“You can’t just drop by someone’s house without calling first.”
“But they said we could come over when we came back,” Kyle insisted.
Lifting her shoulders, Rebecca stared at Hope. “What do I do?” she mouthed, sotto voce.
“I’ll call Theo,” Hope volunteered. “Why don’t you invite them over for dinner? You can have something simple on the beach.”
Rebecca nodded, smiling. “That’s a wonderful idea. I have hamburgers and franks in the refrigerator.” Reaching into the pocket of her slacks, she handed Hope her cell phone. “Call him.”
Hope dialed the number to the house, and Theo’s deep voice came through the wire. “Hello.”
“Hello back to you. I’m calling because Rebecca’s children are here and they’re asking to hang out with Brandon and the others. She thought everyone could get together at her place for dinner.”
“What time does she want them to come over?”
Hope covered the tiny mouthpiece with her thumb. “What time should they come?”
“Now!” Kyle and Ashlee chorused.
Rebecca and Hope shared a smile. She moved her thumb. “Now, Theo.”
“Let me round them up, and we’ll be over in a bit.”
“See you later.” She pressed the End button, terminating the call. She handed Rebecca her phone. “They’re coming. Let me check my refrigerator to see what I can contribute.”
“That’s not necessary,” Rebecca said in protest. “I went to the market yesterday and bought enough groceries to last a week.” Even though she had spoken to Hope, her gaze was fixed on her husband, who had mounted the porch, carrying several bags under his arms.
“You can never have enough food with teenagers.”
Lee put down the bags and kissed his wife. Smiling, he extended a hand to Hope. “Hello again.”
She shook his hand and smiled. “Welcome back to McKinnon Island.”
He returned her smile. “Thank you. And, you’re right about adolescent appetites. My mother used to say it was cheaper to clothe and shoe me than feed me.”
Hope nodded. “Shoes may be the exception nowadays, especially with the price of so-called designer sneakers. I refuse to comprehend a one-hundred-fifty-dollar-plus price tag when the kid will need another pair in three months. On that note, I’m going to check my refrigerator. And, before I forget, you’re more than welcome to use the gas grill.”
“Thanks,” Rebecca called out to Hope’s retreating figure.
Ashlee tapped her mother’s arm to get her attention. “Can we go swimming before we eat?”
“Yes, but don’t go out too far.”
“Daddy, can you please bring my bag in. I need my bathing suit.”
Lee hesitated, his gaze fixed on his wife’s face. “I’ve missed you, Becky.”
Rebecca nodded before she turned away from him. She did not want Lee to see the longing in her gaze; he missed her and she missed him. She’d noticed that one piece of luggage on the porch belonged to Lee. When he’d called to tell her he was coming back to McKinnon, she had not asked whether he planned to stay. But seeing the bag indicated he would stay— even if only for the weekend.
“Perhaps you want to change out of your suit into something less formal, Lee.”
He stared at the back of her head. Her hair was longer; it was the length it had been when he’d first met her. The way he liked it. “You’re right.” Picking up the bags, he waited for her to open the door.
“Give me your bag.” Rebecca took the supple leather satchel anchored under his arm and walked in the direction of her bedroom. Lee hadn’t moved. “Your children are waiting for you so they can change,” she said over her shoulder.
Lee lifted his eyebrows and smiled. It was the first time in a very long time that Rebecca had referred to their son and daughter as his children. He did not want to make too much of it, but he hoped this weekend would signal a change in their relationship. He’d willingly give up all of his material possessions to get his wife back.
Rebecca and Lee sat inches apart on the top porch step and watched the orange sphere sink lower on the horizon. She counted off the seconds, reaching eight hundred fifty-three before the sun disappeared completely. Nightfall had come to the island much like a curtain lowered slowly over a stage. The aroma of grilled food mingled with the omnipresent smell of salt water.
Lee sandwiched his hands between his knees. “Kyle and Ashlee should be sleeping here instead of with strange people.”
Rebecca closed her eyes and bit down on her lower lip. She opened her eyes and stared at her husband. “If you’re looking to start an argument, Lee, then you’re out of luck tonight. Theo and his family aren’t strangers to me. And if I’m comfortable letting Kyle and Ashlee sleep over, then you should respect my decision.”
Turning his head, he met her gaze. “I don’t want to argue, Rebecca. We’ve done enough of that to last several lifetimes. I’m just saying that looking after three teenagers is enough without adding two more.”
She placed a hand on Lee’s bare knee. He had changed out of his suit into shorts, a T-shirt and sandals. “Theo and Helen are more than capable of looking after five kids.” Rebecca saw something in Lee’s gaze that disturbed her. Her face clouded with uneasiness. “What’s wrong?”
“Theo Howell.”
“What about him?”
“He doesn’t have the best reputation—”
“When did you start believing Hollywood gossip?” she asked, interrupting him. “If Theo’s reputation had been that unsavory, then a court never would’ve awarded him guardianship of his siblings. And you’re a fine one to talk about someone’s morality. If I’d chosen to air our dirty linen publicly, I don’t believe Charlestonians would now hold you in such high esteem.”
“Why are you bringing that up? I thought we had agreed to let the past remain in the past.”
“I would if you’d stop thin
king yourself above reproach. Three generations of bankers is not the panacea for social respectability. The only difference between you and the people who work at The Fish Net is money. You just happen to have more or better access to it.”
“Are you calling me a snob?”
“No, Lee Owens. You’re not sophisticated enough to be a snob. You’re nothing but a fake-ass bougie Negro whose folks made a lot of money taking advantage of their people. Your grandfather offered loans to unsuspecting illiterate farmers, knowing they could not be repaid. When they defaulted he took their farms and their lives.” Throwing back his head, Lee laughed loudly. Frowning, Rebecca asked, “What’s so funny?”
He stopped laughing long enough to say, “You.” He peered closely at her. “Negro? Do you know long it has been since I’ve heard that word?”
She frowned at him. “I could’ve called you another N word, but I promised myself I’d never use it because I was called that in Lowell by a bigoted, narrow-minded kid who had a bigoted, narrow-minded father.”
Lee curved an arm around Rebecca’s waist, shifting her to sit across his lap. He pressed his nose to her hair. “I can always count on you, darling, to remind me of where I came from. And you’re right about my grandfather swindling poor, unsuspecting Negroes out of their property and life savings. I suppose you can say he paid for it, because it took less than six months for him to die from a very aggressive bone cancer.”
Rebecca’s arms circled his neck. “There is a way for you to make amends for your grandfather’s ruthlessness.”
“How?”
She lifted her chin. “Invest in my dream, Lee. I want you to provide the financial backing for the McKinnon Island Historical Society.”
He went completely still. “You won’t let it go, will you?”
“No, Lee. I won’t let it go, because I don’t want to let it go.”
His eyes searched her face, reaching into her thoughts. There was something about Rebecca’s expression that unnerved Lee. The woman he loved, who had given him a son and daughter, had acquired a regal strength that was commanding and frightening.
“I need to see what it is that has you so hell-bent on risking our future over.”
“You’ll give me the money?”
Lee smiled. Rebecca reminded him so much of his daughter asking for money for a frivolous trinket because her friends had it. But his wife was not a girl. She was a woman, one who had assumed complete control of her life and her future since coming to McKinnon Island—a future that could exclude him.
“I’m not going to commit until you give me a formal proposal with all the budget projections. I also need specs from architects, zoning variances, and listings of abandoned properties and their owners. I need that and more before I approach a group of businesspeople who, I’m certain, would be willing to invest in your dream.”
Rebecca’s eyes sparkled with the eagerness of a child’s on Christmas morning. Her arms tightened around Lee’s neck. “Thank you,” she whispered tearfully. “Thank you so very much, Lee.”
Angling his head, he kissed her trembling lips. “No, darling. Thank you for being who you are.” He deepened the kiss and was rewarded when she parted her lips, her tongue meeting his in a slow, sensual duel. He had only agreed because he did not want to lose Rebecca.
His hand searched under her blouse, closing over a firm breast. He smiled. She had gained weight in all of the right places. A groan escaped him when her nipple hardened against the sheer fabric of her bra.
Rebecca snuggled against his neck. “Let’s take this inside before our neighbors see us.”
Lee stood up with Rebecca in his arms. Minutes later they were in bed, their naked bodies writhing together in a timeless rhythm. Wordlessly, they reconciled in the most intimate way possible.
Ezra joined his brother and sister-in-law on the veranda for brunch. His joy in seeing Rebecca reclining gracefully on a chaise was short-lived when he saw a tall, slender, dark-skinned man hand her a cup of coffee before he rested a hand on her bare shoulder. The familiarity of the gesture was enough to let him know that the man was Rebecca’s husband.
He forced a smile and joined the two couples. “Good morning.” His voice sounded false even to his own ears.
Rebecca’s head came around, and she smiled at the man who had become teacher, mentor and friend. “Good morning, Ezra.”
Lee rose to his feet, but Ezra motioned to him. “Please, don’t get up.” He extended his right hand. “Ezra Smith.”
Eyeing the man who’d had a profound effect on his wife, Lee smiled and shook the proffered hand. He had to admit that the historian was attractive and imposing. The richness of his gold-brown skin gave him the appearance of having a year-round tan.
“Lee Owens.”
Ezra sat down on a chair and poured coffee from a silver pot into a porcelain cup, adding a small amount of heavy cream to the chicory-flavored brew. He took a sip, enjoying the fragrance and taste. He always looked forward to visiting McKinnon just to drink his sister-in-law’s coffee.
Lowering the cup to a matching saucer, he stared at Rebecca. There was a tiny red bruise along the side of her neck not covered by the thick gold-streaked curls on her nape. There was no doubt Lee had marked his territory.
“Well, Lee, how do you like McKinnon?”
Resting his elbows on the arms of his chair, Lee tented his fingers. “I like what I’ve seen of it,” he answered honestly.
“Do you feel it’s too primitive for someone who has lived all of his life in a cosmopolitan city?”
“Not at all. There was a time when Charleston could be thought of as primitive.”
Janie, sensing a thread of hostility between the two men said, “Lee has agreed to provide financing for the McKinnon Island Historical Society once we get it established.”
“Not me personally,” Lee said quickly. “But as president of a bank I’m going to do everything within my power to help my wife realize her dream to turn McKinnon Island into another Colonial Williamsburg.”
“It’s a dream with incredible merit,” Thomas stated emphatically. “I’ve given Rebecca the name of the historical architect Janie and I commissioned to plan the restoration of this property.”
Rebecca’s hazel eyes sparkled like polished citrines. “I want all of McKinnon Island to achieve historic landmark status like Newburyport, Massachusetts.”
Ezra smiled at her. “That’s possible, given some of the surviving authentic Gullah structures on the island.”
Lee crossed a leg over the opposite knee. “The locals can take advantage of tourists coming to the island by setting up antique shops and boutiques to sell their baskets and quilts. And for those who would want to stay over, lodging accommodations can be provided at private guesthouses, or restored plantations can become B and Bs.”
“Talk the talk, banker man,” Thomas teased with a wide grin. Lee pressed a fist to his mouth to suppress a laugh.
“How about eating establishments, Lee?” Janie asked.
“If the owners of The Fish Net aren’t willing to set up a chain of restaurants throughout the island, then they’re going to be in for some serious competition from the women who turn their homes into guesthouses.”
Rebecca nodded. “I’ve witnessed that. Hope made the most delicious homemade ice cream, sweet potato pie, and fried spareribs I’ve ever eaten. In fact, it was the first time I’d ever eaten fried spareribs.”
“I’m with you, Rebecca,” Janie said. “Hope’s grandmother, Queenie Robinson, earned the reputation of best cook on McKinnon. Whenever there was a church social, everyone sampled Miss Queenie’s dishes first.”
Lee spent the next two hours with the Smiths, listening as they extolled the importance of keeping the Gullah culture alive. They did not know he did not need much more convincing because his wife had done that the night before.
Pressing his palms together, he brought his fingertips to his lips and stared at her. He would do anything for her. All she had
to do was ask.
Twenty-six
The cool kindliness of sheets, that soon smooth away trouble.
—Rupert Brooke
His fingers skimming over the keyboard, Theo ignored the light tapping on the door. The tapping continued. “Go away!”
“I can’t,” came Helen’s voice. “You have a call.”
“Tell whoever it is I’ll call them back.”
“It’s Jeff. He says it’s important.”
“Okay!” Theo saved what he had typed and pushed back his chair. Damn his agent.
Crossing the room, Theo threw open the door and took the cordless phone from Helen. “Thanks.” Waiting until she walked away, he closed the door softly. “What’s up, Jeff?”
“I should ask you the same thing, lover boy.”
A frown furrowed Theo’s forehead. “What are you talking about?”
“I have a copy of the Chatterer in front of me, and you and Dr. Hope Sutton made the front page. The two of you look pretty cozy holding hands in a Savannah restaurant. The caption reads, ‘Did second loss at Oscar send scriptwriter Theo Howell into Dr. Hope’s capable hands?’ ”
“Real cute,” Theo snarled.
“Cute or not, please answer one question for me, Theo. When did you and the self-help diva start knocking boots?”
Theo clutched the phone so tightly that his fingers ached. “Watch your mouth, Jeff.”
“I’m only asking because I need to know what to say when the media comes knocking.”
“Tell them what you tell everyone when you don’t want to be bothered—fuck off!”
“If I tell them that, then they’re going to think I have something to hide.”
“Well, I don’t have anything to hide. I’m going to hang up because I still have a lot of work to do. Please don’t call me again unless it is something really important.”
Lessons of a Lowcountry Summer Page 22