Angels Landing

by Rochelle Alers

  Going on tiptoe, she pressed her mouth to his ear. “Taylor has been hiding cash in a deposit box,” she whispered. “Lots of money.”

  Jeff froze. “How much are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know. I stopped counting at fifty thousand.”

  He buried his face in her hair. “Call David and ask him what you should do.”

  Kara patted his back when she wanted to kiss him. “Thanks for reminding me. I’ll call him later.”

  Turning his head, Jeff kissed her hair. “I want you to forget about what you found inside the bank and come with me. I’m going to give you an up close and personal guided tour of the island.” He glanced down at her feet. “Are you comfortable walking in those shoes?”

  “I’m good.”

  She’d been truthful. Given their height, the shoes were very comfortable. She could wear them all day, walk up and down stairs, and then go out dancing in them. However, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d danced. Dancing around the apartment whenever one of her favorite songs came on the radio didn’t count. Dawn had accused her of not knowing how to have fun. What the dancer failed to understand was that she would’ve been more animated if their living arrangements hadn’t impacted her very essence.

  Kara wanted to be able to walk around in a state of half-dress, hang out in the kitchen on weekends and cook enough food to last her and Dawn for several meals, because her friend and roommate’s cooking skills were wholly deficient.

  Suddenly she realized spending time on Cavanaugh Island was a respite from the fast pace and noise of her adopted city; the revolving door of people coming and going in the apartment; and not having to deal with clients, updating case records, and listening to her supervisor’s critical assessment of the work she did every two weeks. Jeff took her hand, holding it protectively. She hadn’t realized how tall and powerfully built he was until they stood side by side. She giggled like a little girl when he bowed gracefully.

  “We’ll begin the tour with the bank. They are now open on Saturdays in keeping with the banks on the mainland. Next we have the pharmacy, which also houses the post office.”

  “Does each town have a post office?” Kara asked, shading her eyes with her free hand when she peered through the plate glass window.

  “No. It’s always been here on the Cove. Before the state built the causeway, mail was delivered by ferry, and the ferry only docks at this end of the island.”

  She strolled with Jeff, stopping when he entered each store and introduced her to the owners. There was no mistaking their shock when Jeff introduced her as Newell and not Patton.

  They’d just walked out of Rose Dukes-Walker’s sweet-grass basket shop, A Tisket A Basket, when Jeff waved to a slender blonde woman pushing a stroller with a flaxen-haired little boy. “That’s Alice Parker. Her husband is US Representative Jason Parker. His folks were originally from Haven Creek, and they moved from Charleston to the Cove last year. It turned out to be a good thing for the Cove and Landing because it was Jason who made certain we got enough money from the Department of Transportation to build the road between the two towns.”

  “Where to next?” she asked.

  “We won’t stop at De Fountain because it’s impossible to go there and not buy something. All of the ice cream, sorbet, and gelato are made on the premises. During the summer months there is always a line out the door. Folks come from Charleston just to buy ice cream.”

  Kara gave him a sidelong glance. “It’s that good?”

  He nodded, smiling. “It’s that good.”

  “The next time I come to the Cove I’ll be certain to pick some up.”

  They strolled past a wine and liquor store, a florist, and a supermarket with a deli and gourmet food sections. “This is Dr. Monroe’s office, and his wife’s bookstore is on the corner.”

  Tugging on Jeff’s hand, her eyes dancing in excitement, Kara said, “I need to go to the bookstore.”

  He gave a smile parents usually reserved for their children. “Slow down, baby. If someone sees you running, they’ll think I’m chasing you.”

  “People don’t run on Cavanaugh Island?”

  “Only on the beach.”

  “Let go of my hand, Jeff.”

  “Jeff Hamilton, when did you start dating a Patton?”

  Kara heard Jeff when he mumbled an expletive. He smiled, but the gesture did not reach his eyes. “Good afternoon, Miss Hannah.”

  Bright green eyes darted between Jeff and Kara. The frames on the oversized glasses perched on the end of her nose matched the vermilion color on her mouth, while clashing with a head of teased champagne-pink hair.

  “Good afternoon, Jeff. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your girlfriend?”

  Kara opened her mouth to tell the garish-looking woman that Jeff wasn’t her boyfriend, but the slight pressure on her hand when he tightened his grip on her fingers stopped her.

  “Kara, this is Mrs. Hannah Forsyth. She’s the Cove’s librarian and the island’s historian. Miss Hannah, Kara Newell.”

  Hannah blinked, reminding Kara of a heavily lidded owl. “You’re not Kara Patton?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “You have to be related to them because you look just like Theodora Patton when she was your age.”

  “We’re sorry to rush off, Miss Hannah, but we have to get to the bookstore.”

  The librarian patted her cotton candy wisps. “I just came from there to welcome Deborah back from her maternity leave. Deborah opening the bookstore, and she marrying Dr. Monroe is just wonderful for the Cove.”

  “I agree,” Jeff said at the same time he moved past the librarian. “Have a good evening, Miss Hannah.”

  “You, too,” she said to his departing back.

  “What was that all about?” Kara asked when they were out of earshot.

  “I should’ve introduced her as the island gossip instead of the historian. She’s a walking tabloid.”

  Kara couldn’t fathom how Jeff knew everyone on the island whereas she didn’t know all of the people who lived in the six apartments on her floor of the twenty-two-story high-rise. She’d recognized a few whenever they rode the elevator together but didn’t know their names. Most New Yorkers were too busy and self-absorbed with making it in a city that offered something for everyone. They didn’t have time to dawdle because they were always going or coming from somewhere.

  She didn’t know why, but Kara hadn’t expected to find a bookstore on the island. So many bookstore chains in large cities had gone out of business or were closing with the advent of the super bookstores that offered coffee shops and reading rooms.

  Jeff opened the door to the Parlor Bookstore, and the inviting warmth of a parlor enveloped Kara. The concert piano, comfortable leather grouping, area rugs, Tiffany-style floor lamps and hanging fixtures, low tables, flat screen, and wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling shelves packed tightly with books beckoned her to come and stay awhile. It was the perfect place to relax and read.

  A tall, slender woman with a profusion of curly hair framing her bare face greeted Jeff with a hug and kiss. She appeared casually chic in a pair of fitted jeans, ballet-type flats, and man-tailored white shirt. He lifted her effortlessly off her feet with one arm.

  “Welcome back. How’s the family, Debs?”

  She rested a hand on Jeff’s cheek. “Everyone’s well. Georgia told me you stopped by every day when you’re out on foot patrol to check on the store.”

  He nodded. “How’s the baby?”

  Deborah smiled. “He’s getting so big.”

  Curving an arm around Deborah’s waist, he led her to where Kara stood watching the interaction. “Kara, this is Deborah Robinson-Monroe, owner of the Parlor. Debs, Kara Newell.”

  Kara and Deborah shared a handshake and smile. “It’s nice meeting you, Mrs. Monroe.”

  Deborah waved a hand. “It’s Deborah. You’re welcome to look around, and as a first-time customer you’ll be entitled to a fifteen percent discount—t
hat is, if you decide to buy something.”

  There was something about Deborah that Kara liked immediately. She had an infectious smile that lit up her entire face. “Thank you.”

  “There’s tea and sweet breads on the table,” Deborah offered.

  “Oh, no thank you. Jeff and I just came from Jack’s.”

  “Was it your first time there?”

  “Yes. And it definitely won’t be my last. Do you have any books on gardening?” Kara asked Deborah.

  “Yes. They’re at the end of this row on the right.”

  Kara found the section and was surprised to find quite a few books on the subject. Although she hadn’t planned on living in Angels Landing, she’d thought about putting in a rose garden.

  After a quarter of an hour she decided on a coffee-table book on designing gardens. Deborah processed her credit card, taking off 15 percent and placing the book in a recyclable bag with the bookstore’s logo.

  “I hope you’ll come again.”

  Kara and Jeff exchanged a glance. “I’m certain I will.”

  Deborah hugged Jeff again. “I want you and your grandmother to come by the house during Easter week. Whitney will be home from college, and it will be the first time we’ll all be together since Christmas.”

  “I’ll make certain to bring her by.”

  “I like Deborah,” Kara told Jeff once they left the bookstore to return to where he’d parked his car.

  He took the shopping bag from her. “Debs and I go way back. Her grandmother was the first black teacher to integrate the Cove’s white school.”

  “Don’t you think it’s strange that she’s the only one who didn’t mention my resemblance to the Pattons?”

  “Maybe that has something to do with Debs not growing up on the island. She doesn’t have the same sensibilities as the rest of us.”

  “Where did she grow up?”

  “Charleston. She used to spend her summers here with her grandparents.”

  Kara smiled. “I bet spending summers here was better than going to a sleepaway camp.”

  “It was wonderful for kids. After we did our chores we used to hang out on the beach. Once we were teenagers we were allowed to hang out on the beach at night. We’d light a fire and roast marshmallows and make s’mores. The trick was eating them without ingesting sand. The only thing we couldn’t do was swim at night. Years before a couple of kids had gone swimming at night and one drowned. It was weeks before his body washed up off Saint Helena Sound.”

  “The island is like living in a huge gated community.”

  Jeff angled his head. “I never thought of it in that way. But you’re right. Everyone looks out for one another. The kids who live here are careful not to do anything they’re not supposed to do because they never know who’s watching them. It’s not like kids on the mainland when parents take the keys to the car because of an infraction. Here they’re truly on lockdown. Once the news gets out that Jamal or Keisha are grounded, it spreads through the island like a lighted fuse. Some of them call me and ask that I stop by the house to check and see if their kids are there.”

  “That’s invasive, Jeff.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s about concerned parents, Kara. How many stories have you heard about kids sneaking out and getting into trouble, or they were at the wrong place at the wrong time?”

  “Unfortunately too many,” she confirmed. “There’s no fast-food restaurant or Starbucks on the island, so where do the kids hang out?” Kara asked Jeff.

  “There’s always the beach, and the Cove and Creek have town squares. Many of them gather there on weekends and in the summer. Most of them entertain their friends in their backyards. A few who have cars drive to Charleston, and those who don’t take the ferry. However, the ferry doesn’t run all night, so that acts like an unofficial curfew.”

  “What happens if they miss the ferry?”

  “Then they’ll have to come out of their pocket for a taxi. The mayor of the towns negotiated with the taxi companies on the mainland to charge a flat fee; otherwise it would be prohibitive to pay what’s on the meter.”

  “Why isn’t Cavanaugh Island listed as one of the best places in the country to live and raise children?”

  “We want that to be our little secret. That’s one of the reasons why we don’t want developers buying land here. They’ll put up condos, golf courses, and country clubs, and the folks who live here will become second-class citizens in their own towns. Taxes will probably triple and quadruple, and when someone on a fixed income whose family has owned a plot of land for more than a hundred and fifty years can’t pay the taxes, they’ll lose everything.”

  Kara thought about her dilemma. Developers wanted Angels Landing and the two thousand acres it sat on. If she did sell it, then it would only impact two people: Willie and Iris Todd. Taylor Patton’s will stated that the groundskeeper and his wife would continue to live out their natural lives in one of the two guesthouses. That might prove problematic if the developer who purchased the land sought to displace them. She couldn’t do that to the friendly couple.

  “You can’t do what?” Jeff asked.

  Giving him a confused look, Kara then realized she’d spoken her thoughts aloud. “I can’t sell Angels Landing.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “You were thinking of selling it?”

  “Not consciously. But what am I going to do with a house with twenty rooms?”

  “The same as Taylor did once his mother passed away. Live in it. Angels Landing is on the National Register of Historic Places; its contents and the land are worth millions and much too important to give away to a bunch of greedy developers.”

  Kara slipped into the car when Jeff held the door for her. She’d complained to him about living alone in a house with double-digit rooms yet complained to Dawn about the number of people crowding their two-bedroom apartment, aware that she couldn’t have it both ways. Either she return to New York and accept Dawn’s need to take care of the less fortunate or accept her birthright and restore the house as stated in Taylor Patton’s will. Settling back against the leather seat, she stared out the side window. She had time in which to make a decision to stay or leave.

  Jeff drove slowly enough for her to see the town hall, the courthouse, and the library. She noticed signs pointing to the school, ferry, and the Cove Inn, the town’s boardinghouse.

  “Where are we going?” she asked when he turned off Main Street and onto a road that didn’t lead to Angels Landing.

  “I want you to meet my grandmother.”

  “I’m not ready to meet your grandmother.”

  Jeff gave her a quick glance. “When will you be ready?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you always this indecisive?”

  “No. And I’m not indecisive.”

  “You’re not ready to meet my grandmother, you don’t know whether you’ll sell Angels Landing, and you haven’t decided whether you’re going to stay or leave. In my book, that adds up to indecisiveness.”

  Kara pushed out her lower lip as she’d done as a child when she was angry or bothered. “You’re reading the wrong book.”

  “I don’t think so, Kara. If you want to know about Taylor, then you have to ask Corrine Hamilton, because Gram and Theodora Haynes Patton were once what kids refer to nowadays as BFFs.”

  Chapter Five

  Corrine Hamilton stared at the young woman standing next to her grandson, feeling as if she’d stepped back in time, a time when she and Theodora Haynes were as close as sisters.

  An uncertain smile flitted across her features. “Please come and rest yourself.”

  Jeff placed a hand at the small of Kara’s back. “Gram, this is Kara Newell. Kara, my grandmother, Corrine Hamilton.”

  Kara inclined her head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Corrine. Jeff speaks very highly of you.”

  Corrine waved a hand. “That’s because Jeffrey is quite biased when it comes to me, and I must admit I’m a bit partisan wi
th him, too.” She nodded to the object of her admiration. “Jeffrey, please take Kara into the sunroom. I’ll be in directly.”

  What she didn’t tell him was that she had to spend a few moments alone just to compose herself. Jeff had introduced the young woman as Kara Newell when he should’ve said Kara Patton. She looked enough like her childhood friend to have been her clone.

  Walking into the kitchen, Corrine sat down because she didn’t think her shaking knees would support her body. She was still sitting when Jeff entered the kitchen. “I’m coming as soon as I get some sweet tea from the refrigerator.”

  Jeff hunkered down in front of her. “Are you all right, Gram?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine, Jeffrey. It’s just seeing that girl gave me quite a shock because it’s like seeing Teddy come back to life.”

  Jeff held her hands. “Don’t worry about the tea, Gram. I’ll bring it in for you.”

  Corrine stared into a pair of eyes so much like her own. “She’s Taylor’s daughter.” The statement was also a query.

  “Yes,” he confirmed. “She just found out yesterday when David read the will.”

  “That poor child must have been shocked.”

  “She’s that and more.” Jeff told her about the Pattons’ reaction when they were told that Kara had inherited everything. “David asked me to keep an eye on her.”

  Placing a hand over her mouth, Corrine tried to process what she’d just heard. “You know they want to sell that land,” she said after lowering her hand.

  “They’ve been quite vocal about that. And it’s not about improvement or growth progress, but greed.”

  “How does Kara feel about this?”

  “She’s mentioned that she doesn’t want to sell, but…”

  “But what, Jeffrey?”

  He didn’t meet Corrine’s eyes. “The will states she has to make Angels Landing her legal residence for five years and restore it or the house and the land will revert to her money-grubbing relatives who don’t give a damn about anything or anyone but themselves. And you know they’ll sell the land quicker than a cat can flick its tail.”