From his position on the floor, Clay gazed up at her with an inscrutable expression, then returned to manipulating the controls of a computer game, entertaining a newly awakened Midge.
Rory paced the heart-of-pine cottage floor, fretting over the unfairness of fate. She might have a million dollars in her underwear drawer, but she still couldn’t correct injustice. She should be dancing in the streets. Instead she was worrying about a swamp. Her friends back in the city would tell her that her head was definitely screwed on wrong.
Maybe a lifetime of habit had taught her caution. Money wasn’t real until she had it in hand. Anything that appeared too good to be true probably was.
“The zoning meeting is Thursday night,” she continued, thinking out loud. “This is Tuesday. If we can come up with some charts and statistics before the meeting, showing what overdevelopment has done in other areas—overcrowded roads, utilities, schools, whatever—they might be concerned enough to put a moratorium on zoning changes. We may not be able to stop the auction, but if we can halt commercial zoning, developers might think twice about buying.”
She tried to concentrate on the problem at hand, but Clay was too major a distraction. Sitting on Cleo’s living room floor in front of a laptop with Midge slouched in his lap, he entertained the wide-eyed infant with spaceships that shot colored stars, mushrooms, and balloons at each other. Every once in a while, the game emitted a chiming version of “Love Me Do,” Midge would coo excitedly, and Rory would swivel to see what new action crossed the screen.
Every time she turned to look, Clay was looking back.
She’d never had that much blatant interest focused on her. She didn’t at all understand the thrill chasing through her every time she caught him looking. Just looking shouldn’t generate such chills of excitement.
“I can feed statistics into a comparison program and set projections,” he answered reasonably to her impassioned speech, his hands working the controller without regard to any result but Midge’s contentment. “If any school officials are at the meeting, they’ll cringe at doubling their population almost overnight.”
She assumed he meant to generate the statistics from the laptop he’d been working on before Midge woke, although for all she knew, he could have been looking up her ancestry and credit rating. But she admired his ability and willingness to use the computer as a weapon to bring down the bad guys.
“Give me enough to create some charts,” she said. “People like pretty pictures. I’ll make copies of the petitions to hand out. Five hundred signatures in twenty-four hours is pretty impressive. Maybe we can get another five hundred before the meeting.”
“We could easily collect thousands if we had time.”
“We don’t have time,” she said impatiently, continuing her pacing.
Clay’s controller produced a colorful explosion of singing birds. Midge didn’t issue a sound, and he leaned over her little head to check on her. “I think that one sent her off to sleepy-bye.”
With athletic coordination, he set aside the laptop, balanced the infant in his arms, and stood up. “Planning requires patience and persistence.”
After shedding his smelly shirt, he’d apparently stolen one of his brother’s. Aurora tried not to be distracted by the way the bright Hawaiian print fell open across his tanned chest, but she wasn’t certain she remembered the argument. “I hate waiting.”
“That’s because you’re a volatile cocktail,” he said with a hint of amusement, rocking Midge lightly so her eyes closed again.
She stared as if the top of his head had blown off. “A what?” She supposed she should be insulted that he thought she didn’t have patience, but he was probably right.
“Heady and explosive, but not lethal.” His mouth curved in a little-boy grin that nearly turned her inside out. “We work well together.”
That grin produced images of Cheshire cats, along with wistful wishes of a steady balance to her more explosive tendencies, but a car engine sounded far down the lane, saving her from any reply.
“There’s Jared. I haven’t gone into town to buy the steaks yet. Will you take a rain check?” Expertly holding the sleeping babe, Clay peered out the window to verify his brother’s arrival.
“I’ll find something,” she answered, more aware of the tenderness he showed Midge than the fact that she hadn’t been to the grocery either. She couldn’t do this. No matter how many fascinating facets Clay McCloud exposed, he was still the worst thing that could happen to her.
She didn’t want to imagine what the best could be.
“I’ll create charts so pretty the commission won’t know what hit them,” he assured her, heading toward the nursery. “And then we’ll celebrate because the commission is going to cave.”
She could hear Clay’s idea of celebration in the sensual lowering of his voice, and knowing what was on his mind heated parts of her best left cold. “You’re doing this for the turtles, right? And your brother?” she called after him. And not for her, she reminded herself.
“Yep. And for Kiz and her family. That’s their land the surveyors are tramping around.” He disappeared down the hall, leaving her thoroughly rattled.
Damn, even though he’d just verified that he wasn’t doing this for her, he made his intentions sound altruistic rather than selfish.
Clay returned to the front room just as a car door slammed outside. Without any show of acknowledgment that his brother would walk in on them any minute, he invaded her personal space by poking the frown forming above her nose. “It’s not your responsibility to change the world.”
“We need development.” Attempting to disregard Clay’s broad chest and dangerous proximity, she stuck to her concerns. “I don’t want condos, but I want the zoning only temporarily postponed until we have a plan.”
“It’s a crime to turn paradise into hot-dog stands, but we’ll argue over that when the time comes,” he acknowledged with lazy grace, twisting a strand of her hair around his finger again, his colorful shirt filling her field of vision.
They were still at odds, but Rory could almost feel flames flickering along her skin everywhere Clay touched her with his gaze. He didn’t understand the island and its inhabitants, and he probably would be gone before she was. She’d better learn to use his expertise without any of this touchy-feely business. She spun on her heel to open the door.
Jared looked surprised, then concerned as he glanced over her shoulder to see Clay. “Where’s Cleo? Is something wrong?”
“I have it all under control, bro. Midge is asleep. Cleo just called to say Matty is fine, and she’s heading home. You can take up the baby-sitting duties. I have to see Aurora home.”
Clay caught Rory’s elbow, preventing her from fleeing the moment Jared walked through the door. She thought about pulling away, but she knew it would be futile. Besides, Jared didn’t appear to be noticing anything except his empty house. She liked the way he looked a little shaken at Clay’s insouciant recitation. Jared McCloud was a good family man, unlike his sex-god brother.
Except the sex god knew how to take care of babies.
“What happened to Matty?” Jared demanded.
“Playground accident. I said he’s fine. Cleo just got a little rattled.”
“Cleo called Aurora to look after Meg?” Jared turned toward the hall leading to the nursery, apparently listening for infant cries while attempting to sort out what had happened here.
“Nope, she called me. Aurora’s here ’cause surveyors are tramping around the Watkins homestead. I’ll fill you in later.” With studied purpose, Clay urged Aurora through the open door. “Tell Matty I’ll tell him a turtle tale when I come back.”
“You’d better run that tale by me first!” Jared called as Clay attempted his escape. “I want to hear how Meg fits in.”
“She’s been fed, but you can have the dirty diapers,” Clay called back, letting the screen door slam as he steered Rory down the porch stairs. “I’ll never hear the end of this,”
he muttered. “Let me drive. I want out of here before Jared follows me out.”
Still a little dazed, Rory handed him the keys. “He was just curious. Wouldn’t you be if you came home to find someone like you baby-sitting your kid and the rest of your family gone?”
“Just because I’m the youngest, Jared and TJ think it’s their duty to look after me. I’m not exactly a kid any longer.” Clay opened the passenger- side door and held out his hand to help her in.
He certainly didn’t have to tell her that, but she couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. “I can’t say I blame your brothers. I’d be afraid you oiled the baby and filled her up with gasoline.”
She looked down at Clay’s helping hand. He was always taking her arm or her hand and treating her as if she were a piece of dandelion fluff. “You know, you have an unusual flare for old-fashioned etiquette.”
He looked down at his outstretched hand and shrugged. “Habit. Are you getting in or not?”
“Since I daresay you’ll leave me here if I say ‘not,’ I guess I’ll get in.” Before the words left her mouth, he’d caught her elbow and all but shoved her into the seat.
He slid behind the driver’s wheel and took off before she could decide whether to protest his manhandling. “I can do this without your help, you realize,” she told him. “I only needed you to back off on giving the state the names of the landowners.”
As the BMW shot out onto the highway, Clay grinned. “I have the list the bank, the state, and the developers would kill for shoved into my silverware drawer. If I’m foregoing monetary rewards for that list, I want to be around for the fireworks.”
In his silverware drawer. Gads, they were a pair. She had the stuff dreams were made of stashed with her underwear. He had the means to blow her family’s dreams sky-high hidden among his forks and spoons.
Unless, of course, Iris’s brother, Billy, had definitely sold his share of the swamp. Then all bets were off.
o0o
“If Billy has sold out, the realty company will never give me what they offered the other day. We could be bankrupt.” Cissy limped up and down the living room later that night after Clay left. “I’ve never lived anywhere else. How would I pay rent? I can’t even find a job. Your friend McCloud could up and disappear tomorrow. That kind always does.”
“Will you sit down? You’re making me tired just watching you.” Rory was sorry she’d brought up the zoning meeting during supper. It had been an otherwise pleasant evening until then.
Everything had gone so well—Clay didn’t have to be more than his undemonstrative self to make Mandy shine and Cissy dote on his every word. When he exerted himself, he had them eating out of his hand. His masculine energy had been like a breath—more like a tornado—of fresh air in this all-female atmosphere.
Even Mandy had picked up a few pointers when Clay sat Cissy down in front of the computer and eased her fears. He’d had the sense to refrain from touching the keyboard himself. The way he manipulated those keys would have intimidated Cissy for certain.
But now he was gone and all that energy had dissipated with him. Cissy had reverted to fretting. Mandy had disappeared into her room. And Rory was more restless than she’d ever been in her life, and given her level of hyperactivity, that was going some. She really didn’t need rampaging hormones and uncertain dreams for the future muddying her thought processes.
“If we sold to Commercial, at least I’d get a place nearby, where I know people,” Cissy said. “If we go bankrupt, I’ll have nothing. If you go to that meeting on Thursday, the realty company might withdraw its offer.”
“I thought we’d decided not to take the offer?” Rory asked. She didn’t like the bad vibrations she was picking up here.
Cissy threw up her hands in a gesture of despair and fell into the nearest chair. “I just can’t stand this uncertainty! I hate living like this. I want a normal life with a job and money in the bank for Mandy’s future. Tell me why I should care about turtles and our neighbors if no one else does?”
She had a point. A rotten one, admittedly, but in this day and age of “me first,” who was she to argue?
The bottle cap in her drawer sang its siren song, and Rory fought a wave of guilt. If uncertainty was tearing Cissy apart, didn’t she owe her sister a little bit of hope? Or would she only shatter her if the cap wasn’t real?
“Do you hate staying here?” Rory asked, searching for clarification, terrified of revealing her secret dreams too soon. “If you had enough money to pay the bills, would you still want to sell?”
Cissy partially parted her hands where she’d buried her face. “I won’t let you spend all your money on us. It’s bad enough you’re trying to sell your car.”
Rory brushed that off with a careless gesture. “Forget me for a minute. Imagine you’d won a million dollars. What would you do? Sell out and move to Florida?”
Cissy rubbed her reddened eyes and leaned back in the chair. “You sound like Dad. He’s always telling us what he’d do if he won the lottery. Daydreaming won’t wish away the bill collectors.”
“Ciss, this is important. I know Mandy’s education would be first on your list, but after that? Do you hate living here?”
Cissy closed her eyes. “No. This is home. My friends are here. Dad is here. This land was Mama’s and Grandmama’s and I like having those roots. I like my garden, and the peach tree where we buried Old Bones. I like working with Grandma Iris. If I had a choice, I’d never leave. I’m not like you, Rora. I’m not curious about the world outside. I just want to feel safe.”
Tears prickled behind Rory’s eyelids. Cissy had lived in fear and uncertainty most of her life. That her sister’s only dream was for safety struck Rory as heartbreaking. At least it was a dream she had some chance of fulfilling—if some developer didn’t ruin it by sinking the island with condos and parking lots. If the bottle cap prize was real.
“I think we can have that, Ciss,” she murmured, afraid to say it too loudly, afraid even a whisper of hope would attract the demons of misfortune. Living hand-to-mouth taught that kind of pessimism. Hope was a foreign creature to be wary of, but as the younger, more sheltered sister, she had more courage than Cissy. She hated taking risks, but she had to be the one to dream.
Cissy didn’t even lift her head. “I have to have a job. I don’t see it happening, Rora.”
“Don’t tell Pops, but I think we may have won a million dollars.” Rory stated it as matter-of-factly as she could, keeping her voice low in case Mandy was still awake.
Cissy didn’t move for about a minute. When she did, it was to eye Rory with suspicion. “Did your plate come up a few noodles short? Or have you listened to Dad once too often?”
Rather than argue, Rory crossed the room to her bedroom. She had a hard time believing it herself. She was itching for someone else to confirm that her plate wasn’t short any noodles. Jittery with nerves, she returned with the precious bottle cap cradled in her palm and the bottle label with the prize instructions. “Look at this. You tell me.”
In disbelief, Cissy glanced from her to the cap. Then picking it up, she squinted at the writing on the inside. Still not believing, she got up and held the cap and the label under a reading lamp. Her hand was shaking as she closed her fingers tightly around the bit of plastic.
“Is this for real? Somebody didn’t just manufacture this as a joke?”
Rory shook her head. “All I know is that it came off a bottle with that label on it this morning. I called that number, and they said I’ve won. I have an appointment to see a lawyer, verify its validity, and set up a trust. I didn’t want to raise hopes until I knew for certain.”
Cissy looked as if she wouldn’t ever open her fist again. She held it against her chest, absorbing the impact. “I think I want to scream. Would it be more real if we jumped up and down and shrieked?”
Rory allowed a tiny bubble of joy to rise to the top. She’d been bottling up her hopes beneath a cork of disbelief all day. She
was about to explode from the pressure. “We’d wake up Mandy,” she warned with a grin. More little bubbles rose and fizzed like effervescent champagne. “We could go outside and do a happy dance—just in case it’s really real.”
Her family had lived so long on the edge, it was difficult to comprehend that solid ground might be in sight. But now that she’d shared the hope, Rory was ready to burst with it. Just seeing the light in her sister’s eyes after they had been dead for so long erased her fears. The prize had to be real. God couldn’t be so cruel as to disappoint Cissy again.
Shakily, Cissy held out her fist. “Take it. Hide it again. I’m terrified I’ll lose it or someone will run in the front door and mug us for it. I’m not going to believe it until I see the money.”
“Show me the money!” Rory crowed on her way back to the bedroom.
“Happy dance,” Cissy cried, limping toward the door, cane in hand. “For once in my life, I want to know what it feels like to shriek in joy and howl at the moon!”
With the cap back where it belonged, Rory flew out the door after her. In the shadows of the moss-draped oaks, amid the frozen grinning statutes, they screamed their jubilation to the winds, danced and hugged, hooted and laughed until they fell into the thick grass, howling at their insanity.
An owl flew off in noisy outrage at the disturbance. Fireflies skimmed the grass around them. And a particularly jolly old elf beamed down at them in delight.
“A million dollars,” Cissy whispered to the moon. “Mandy can go to college.”
“Pops can have insurance.”
“We can buy a new truck, cherry red with an extended cab!”
“You can finally have that fire hazard of a toolshed taken out.”
“Can we build a garage in its place?” As the dreams stacked dangerously one on top of the other, Cissy backed off. “And what about you? It’s your money. You found it.”
“Pops bought the soft drinks. I drank it. The house belongs to both of us. It’s all one. I just don’t want anyone to know until we’re certain.” Rory stared up at the moon thinking they should have real champagne so they could be too high to come down to reality so quickly. Still, bliss filled her soul.
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