Carolina Girl

by Patricia Rice

  When it came to Mandy, she had no sentimentality whatsoever for the land her mother’s family had owned for generations. She loved her neighbors and loved the security of her familiar home, had never dreamed of leaving as Aurora had, but she would sacrifice her life for Mandy.

  Desperately, closing her eyes and crossing her fingers for luck, Cissy prayed Aurora would agree.

  “Around two?” she suggested.

  o0o

  “One of the neighbors brought over some boiled shrimp last night. It just needs shelling. I can toss it with a little pasta and pesto, and make a salad; it won’t take a minute.” Aurora pushed open the trailer’s front door. A blast of cold air hit them as she led Clay into the dim interior. Cissy must have turned on the air-conditioning. Cissy didn’t like to waste money on utilities. Was she not feeling well?

  Concerned, Aurora switched on the overhead lamp to brighten the big front room, but she didn’t see her sister napping on the couch as she usually did when her hip pained her. “Ciss?” she called. “Mandy? Anyone here?”

  It was after four. Mandy ought to be home from school. Cissy didn’t have a car and hadn’t told her of any plans for going out with friends today.

  “Maybe they’re out in the shop?” Clay suggested, dropping her heavy purse on the coffee table. “Listen, I really ought to be going anyway. You don’t have to feed me.”

  Impatiently she ignored his insincere suggestion. He’d followed her around all day, braving the heat and stares and annoying questions with formidable patience. She didn’t know any man who would have withstood the endless barrage of talk for more than a few minutes, much less all day. He’d impressed her with his tenacity.

  He’d even learned part of her spiel by day’s end and had persuaded the owner of the Monkey to set out a petition. For someone as nontalkative as Clay, that was an even more impressive feat. She didn’t know whether it was libido or ego that prompted him, or if he really was that concerned about the turtles, but the least she could do was feed him. Their lunch had consisted of inhaling the odor of grease on Cleo’s hamburger.

  She crossed the green carpet to the galley kitchen and read the whiteboard hanging on the refrigerator door. Back soon was scrawled there in Cissy’s handwriting. Out back followed in Mandy’s. Someone had taped a losing lottery ticket to the bottom of the board—a running joke for their gambling tax deduction.

  “A friend must have picked her up.” Aurora opened the refrigerator and hauled out the bowl of shrimp, dropping it on the counter. “If you’ll start on these, I’ll start the water boiling for pasta and mix the salad.”

  At his silence, she glanced up. Clay prodded a boiled shrimp as if it were some new form of computer hardware and he couldn’t find the switch.

  “You do know how to prepare shrimp, don’t you?”

  “If they come out of a freezer, I eat them.” He picked one up by the tail and examined it closely. “They have legs this way.”

  Laughing, she snatched it away. “You start water. I’ll do shrimp.”

  “If it had an engine, I could make it work,” he offered helpfully, maneuvering around the counter into the galley and helping himself to a pan hanging over the stove.

  A man standing in her tiny kitchen captured her attention. His head brushed the pots she’d hung over the counter, and his shoulders blocked all view of the cabinet behind him. Even her father avoided her woman’s domain. Mesmerized, she watched him study the size of the pan and the amount of water filling it as if it was an interesting science experiment. She had to take a deep gulp of air to drag her gaze back to the shrimp.

  A car crunching the gravel drive distracted her. She didn’t know what Cissy’s reaction would be to having a male stranger in the house. Living together like this, they’d developed a few unspoken rules. Not bringing men into the house was one of them. She’d like to speak to Cissy first, before Clay’s presence caught her by surprise. Crossing the room, she pulled back the sheer draperies over the picture window.

  A distinguished silver-haired man assisted Cissy from a shiny white Cadillac. They appeared to be in earnest discussion, so she didn’t want to intrude, but she watched with concern. Cissy had quit dating years ago. Potential employers did not drive potential employees to and from an interview. Who could the man be?

  She felt Clay watching over her shoulder. “Salesman,” he declared with a touch of cynicism. “Do you need a vacuum cleaner?”

  She chuckled in agreement. “Maybe Cissy decided to test-drive a Cadillac.” Her sister looked more animated than she’d been in years. Fighting back anxiety, she tried to be happy for her. Cissy didn’t have a lot to be excited about these days. Maybe she’d won the lottery. That would account for wasting air conditioning on an empty house.

  “I’ll talk her out of it. Cadillacs are all looks and no go.” Clay opened the front door and stepped outside to assist Cissy up the stairs.

  “Did they talk to you, too?” she asked excitedly as Clay handed her through the doorway. “What do you think? Are they legit?”

  Behind Cissy, Clay shook his head and shrugged. He’d pulled on a T-shirt he’d retrieved from his motorcycle bag earlier, but he still looked more biker than computer wizard. Aurora caught a wary expression in his eyes before he turned to aid Cissy in taking a seat on the couch.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ciss. Explain. I’m fixing shrimp. Want some?” Food first, to settle the anxiety gnawing at her middle. She didn’t attempt to discern which anxiety unsettled her the most. She’d just let time and a full stomach take care of them.

  Mandy slammed in through the back door before her mother could say a word. “Who was that in the Caddy?”

  Clay looked as if he’d like to bolt. Standing uneasily in the low-ceilinged trailer, his broad shoulders filling the empty spaces between the women, he didn’t fit in here. But they were used to their father and worked around him. Aurora shoved a pot in his hands and pointed at the sink. Obediently, he filled it with more water.

  “That was Mr. Turner from Commercial Realty.” Excitement spilled out with Cissy’s words, and her eyes danced with it. “He just showed me a wonderful lot down on Obadiah Lane. It’s in a real nice development. The neighbors drive SUVs and have sailboats!”

  Rory shoved half the bowl of shrimp at her niece. There wasn’t much point in attempting to figure out what Cissy was talking about until she came to the point. “You’re planning on moving?”

  “That’s just it! They’ll move us. I don’t know about Daddy’s business though.” A look of worry crossed Cissy’s pale features, but she dismissed the passing thought in favor of another. Sheer happiness lit her from within. “They’re offering us ten thousand an acre, Rora. Ten thousand! We couldn’t get that kind of money anywhere.”

  Very gently Aurora set her bowl down. Her gaze flew to Clay, who had stopped running water to listen. She saw the same concern in his eyes that she knew was in hers. Clay possessed a skeptical outlook. She preferred to be optimistic, but what were the chances that bolts of fortune really did strike out of the blue—without frying their targets?

  “Who’s offering that kind of money?” she asked. “And why?”

  “I assume Commercial Realty,” Cissy said with a shrug. “They want to build something here. They said they’d go to one of the neighbors if we didn’t accept the offer, so why shouldn’t we be the ones to take it?”

  “You have a computer here?” Clay asked quietly.

  Aurora indicated the door to the master bedroom with a nod. Cissy had taken over the other end of the trailer when Mandy was born. Aurora had stored her furniture and simply moved into her old room when she returned.

  She instantly had second thoughts about allowing this almost total stranger into her private quarters, but her protective instincts overcame any lingering need for privacy. She lived in a trailer, after all. Privacy had been a moot point since she moved back here. “I can’t imagine you’ll find anything on Commercial Realty, though,” she
told him. “They’re a front.”

  He ignored that. “Password?”

  “Sugarbaby.” Aurora grimaced at his raised eyebrows, but neither of them wasted time on commenting. If what they suspected was true, they had a nasty problem on their hands.

  Clay strode off in the direction of her bedroom, oblivious to the stares of her family. He had such an easy way of slipping into his shell without regard to anyone else that Aurora almost envied it. Especially now.

  Mandy was pattering her mother with questions that Cissy eagerly fielded, describing the lot, the neighbors, the closeness to the harbor and town. Aurora crushed the shrimp shell in her hand.

  Maybe the deal was legit. Maybe someone wanted to build a gas station here. That would be all right, she thought. Some local fellow with big dreams—he might even let Pops keep the workshop. It wasn’t logical, but hope never was.

  Cissy threw her a worried look when Rory didn’t leap into the excited discussion. But what could she say? The park didn’t even exist on paper yet. She couldn’t believe some outsider had already heard about the park and seen the potential for development.

  Clay had warned her that they would stir things up with the zoning petition. Having her home bought out from under her wasn’t what she’d thought he meant.

  There wouldn’t be any way she could tell Cissy no.

  She didn’t want to tell her sister no. She wanted this to be legit.

  She cracked another shrimp shell and prayed.

  “You’re not very excited,” Cissy finally called over to her. “Do you think it’s a bad deal?”

  “I’m afraid it sounds too good to be true,” Rory answered cautiously. “I always examine the undersides of rainbows.”

  She hated the defeated look that entered her sister’s eyes. Cissy might be the eldest and the closest thing Rory had to a mother, but she looked to Rory for the money decisions.

  “I knew it,” Cissy said in discouragement. “I should have just hung up the phone. What do you think they’re trying to pull?”

  Before Rory could find an answer, the back door slammed open and Jake entered. “Thought I heard you come home. Got enough of that shrimp for me?”

  The sisters exchanged looks. Even if the offer was legitimate, here was the main stumbling block. Where would Jake go if they sold the land and Cissy moved to a development? He lived in a small set of rooms off the workshop and ate most of his meals here. The statues littering the yard were the only income he possessed. He wasn’t old enough for social security, and he’d never saved a dime in his life.

  “Sure, Pops. Want to make some of that hot sauce you like? I know you don’t like the pesto.” Rory reached in the refrigerator for the ingredients, praying Clay came up with an answer soon.

  They didn’t have high-speed Internet lines out here, and Cissy couldn’t afford cable, so any Web search would be slow. He’d have to have magic fingers to drag out information fast enough to give them answers now.

  “Got any fries? That’ll do me.” Jake grabbed the ketchup and Worcestershire and began mixing them in a small bowl Rory handed him.

  The silence from the living room was almost deafening. Operating on automatic, Rory found the ingredients for her father’s supper, for the salad, for the pesto. Growing up, she’d learned to cook in self-defense since Jake didn’t cook and Cissy was always working. Figuring she ate three times as much as her sister, it seemed only fair at the time. It was a comfort now.

  “What are y’all so silent about?” Jake demanded, finally noticing the quiet. “You hiding a man in the bedroom?”

  Mandy giggled. Cissy rubbed her nose, a certain indication she was hiding something.

  Relieved to find a different direction for her thoughts, Rory opened a beer and handed it to her father. “Yup. We trussed up your friend McCloud and threw him in the bedroom to use later tonight.”

  “Don’t doubt that.” Jake threw back a swallow of beer and set the can down before continuing with a twinkle in his eye. “Heard y’all had a good time at the harbor today.”

  Oh, sugar. Word traveled entirely too fast in this town. Turning red, Rory grabbed a box of pasta and dumped it into the boiling water. “He was having a good time. I just went along for the ride.”

  “That was some ride,” a dry male voice said from the bedroom doorway. Once certain he had the attention of everyone in the room, Clay held up a sheet of paper. “Commercial Realty is apparently the real estate arm of your local bank. It appears they’re acquiring property on the island and using the realty as a holding company.”

  Flying, friggin’ maggots. Of course the bank was behind it. They knew about the parkland and had a developer all lined up. She knew how that worked.

  Ripping off her apron, she stormed out the back door and slammed the screen.

  “Was it something I said?” Clay asked rhetorically, tossing the paper to the coffee table and heading after her.

  No one stopped him.

  Chapter Nine

  “Aurora, stop it.” After watching her rage up and down the garden path half a dozen times, Clay stepped in front of her and caught her arms. It had worked pretty well when he’d done this before.

  This time, though, she glared at him. He threw up his hands in surrender. “Throwing a tantrum won’t solve anything.”

  “You’d rather I exploded all over the trailer? I’d blow the roof off.” She stormed past him again, but her step faltered slightly. She swung around, and he could see tear tracks down her cheeks.

  Oh, jeez. He couldn’t handle tears. He liked it a hell of a lot better when she was storming around town with righteous ire and justice for all in her voice. Or laughing at the foibles of life. Or even laughing at him. That was okay, too. He liked it that she didn’t always take him seriously.

  He sought for some means of making her feel better and failed.

  “Cissy gave up everything for me and Mandy,” she cried in a voice breaking with tears. “She used to get the best grades in class. She was so pretty, she had boys asking her out all the time. But she had to work and go to school and raise me first, and then when I was old enough to stay home on my own at night so she could finally have a little fun, she got pregnant with Mandy and had to drop out. It’s not fair, Clay.”

  “We didn’t sign a contract at birth saying it would be.” That was as lame a thing as he’d ever said, but it made her wipe her eyes angrily so the tears went away. Tears made him feel helpless. Anger he could handle.

  “She deserves something good to happen,” she insisted. “I’ve not seen her so excited in years. She deserves a good life. I’m working on it, but there is only so much I can do. How can I deny her this?” She sounded more unhappy than mad.

  Clay watched Aurora rub her hands up and down her bare arms and wished he could do that for her. She’d left off her jacket, and in her silk shell she looked more like a woman than an impersonal suit. He wanted to kiss her until she forgot her problems, but he figured he’d pretty much pushed his luck as far as it would go in that department. She’d sock him one if he tried it again. Rightly so, under the circumstances. He just wasn’t certain where to go from here.

  His family hid feelings as thoroughly as hers exploded with them. Just call him emotionally handicapped. Dysfunctional.

  “You sure you ought to deny her this?” he asked, not knowing a better way of phrasing it. “The bank should be reasonably legit, shouldn’t it?” He knew better. He knew banks were out for the biggest bang for their buck like anyone else. But he wanted it spelled out in concrete terms he could understand, not emotional fireworks that left him staggering.

  “Banks don’t buy real estate on speculation,” she said tiredly. “They’re acquiring for someone who doesn’t want their name involved yet. And if they don’t want their name revealed, you can guess it’s for a reason.”

  Yeah, if some place called Sunbelt Development started knocking on doors, land prices would skyrocket, he calculated. “You could try explaining to Cissy what h
appens if hotels and condos are built out here.”

  She looked up at him with a hint of desperation. “And make her feel guilty if she still wants to sell? She’s thinking of Mandy. How can I ask her to choose between Mandy and what’s best for the island?”

  Since he was presumably opposing the sale for his brother and his family, Clay couldn’t answer that one. “Don’t you think she ought to at least make an informed decision?”

  “The bastards are picking on Cissy for a purpose, probably because I’m putting those petitions out there. I bet Jeff Spencer is behind this.” She hugged herself and looked away. “They figure Cissy is the weak link, that she’ll agree to the sale, and once the land is gone, I’ll lose interest and leave the swamp alone.”

  “But the land belongs to both of you, doesn’t it?” he argued. “She can’t sell without your consent.”

  She shook her head. “That’s what this Bingham thing is all about. The law says all they need is one owner’s signature on a sales agreement. They can take that to court and ask for a property partition. My signature is irrelevant. They don’t have to offer me anything.”

  “The court will order your land auctioned to divide it?” he asked in disbelief.

  With a look of misery, she nodded. “Cissy doesn’t understand that the sales agreement is only for her share. Once she signs, they don’t have to offer me anything. They’ll simply demand that the court divide the property. The deed doesn’t specify which of us owns which part of the land, so the court would have to divide it up in lots and sell it.

  “An auction will generate peanuts because no one else in their right minds would want this land, much less bid against the bank, so there will be only one offer to buy—theirs. Under the agreement she signs, they may pay Cissy ten thousand an acre for half the lot, but they’ll offer squat for my half. Unless I can bid against them, I’ll be left with inaccessible, worthless swamp.”

  “Explain that to your sister.” Since he’d had considerable luck with repositioning her earlier, Clay caught Aurora’s elbow and steered her toward the back door. She dragged her feet, but he figured she didn’t have anywhere else to run. That she actually listened to him filled him with wonder. She didn’t strike him as a woman who listened to just anyone.