Angels Landing

by Rochelle Alers

  “How did Taylor know my birthday?”

  A slight frown furrowed Jeannette’s smooth forehead. “What are you talking about?”

  “His computer password is Kara twelve-nineteen, which just happens to be my birthday.”

  “I don’t know, Kara. After I sent him that letter, I’d mentally exorcised Taylor from my mind.”

  “It’s incredible, but he knew everything about me, Mama. My full name, birthday, my New York City address, and who knows what else. He left me everything: the house, land, antiques, classic cars, cash, bonds, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. I’m told he never married or had any other children. No one ever saw him with a woman, and he lived and died alone. I’m certain it wasn’t too difficult for him to hire an investigator to collect whatever information he needed on me.” A beat passed. “You never told him you had given birth to his daughter, yet it wasn’t until after he died that I was made aware that Taylor Patton, not Austin Newell, was my biological father. Why didn’t you tell me, Mama? Why did I have to find out from a dead man?”

  Jeannette took a deep breath, holding it until she was forced to exhale. “Austin and I never talked about it. I was your mama and he was your daddy. It’d become our tainted little secret.”

  A cynical laugh escaped Kara. “One thing I’ve learned living here is there are no secrets.”

  “Living? Don’t you mean visiting?”

  Kara made circular motions on her mother’s back as if to ease the blow of what she was about to tell her. “I’m going to live here, Mama.”

  “What! You can’t, Kara!” Her protest was pregnant with shock and fear.

  “I have to,” Kara countered. “If Taylor was out for revenge, then he has exacted a heavy price.” She revealed the terms of his will.

  “How can he ask you to live here for five years?”

  “I don’t know, but he did. At least the mandate comes at a good time in my life. I’m not married, and I don’t have to worry about uprooting a child.”

  “Are you certain this is what’s best for you, Kara? You have a beautiful apartment in one of the greatest cities in the world and a wonderful career. Why would you want to give that up?”

  “I own a house here that is listed as a National Register of Historic Places, and the property is a National Historic Landmark District. Don’t forget that I’m a CSW, and I can always work as a school-based or hospital social worker in any city. Or I could open a private practice, an option I didn’t have in New York because I didn’t have the time or money.”

  Pushing away Kara’s arm, Jeannette slid over, putting distance between them. “Don’t tell me you’re doing this because of money.”

  “Mama!”

  “Don’t ‘Mama’ me, Kara. Is it about money?”

  Kara felt as if she’d been stabbed through the heart, left to bleed invisible blood. She did not want to believe that her mother thought she was that greedy, avaricious, and narcissistic. That she’d agreed to carry out a dead man’s wishes because he’d made her wealthy. It wasn’t just about money; it was about the future of Cavanaugh Island and its inhabitants.

  “I can’t believe you said that,” she whispered. “If I’d wanted to make a lot of money, I never would’ve become a social worker. Please look at me, Mama,” she pleaded. “It’s not about me,” she continued when Jeannette stared at her.

  “What is it about?”

  “It’s about connecting with relatives I never knew I had. It’s also about getting involved in a restoration project that will take years to complete and may even permit me to start up a new business.” What she didn’t tell her mother was the possibility of a relationship with an attractive man—something she hadn’t had in a long time.

  “I can’t believe it’s taken only a week for you to become this impassioned about something you knew nothing about.”

  “A week ago I had no idea that the man I call Daddy isn’t my biological father. But that doesn’t change anything because DNA aside, Austin Newell is and will always be my father… even though everyone says I look exactly like Theodora Patton.”

  “He loves you, baby.”

  Kara inched over and hugged her mother. “Nothing’s changed because I still love him. I don’t know why Taylor left me everything when he should’ve left it to his brother, sisters, nieces, and nephews.”

  Jeannette’s round, sherry-colored eyes grew wider. “He disinherited them?”

  “I wouldn’t call it disinherit because they’re not his heirs.”

  “That probably didn’t make them too happy.”

  Kara didn’t tell her mother about the outburst in the lawyer’s office following the reading of the will. “He did set aside monies for some of the younger Pattons’ college education, and he has provided for the housekeeper and her husband. The more I think about it, the more I believe my inheritance is attributed to his guilt. Taylor knew about me but was either too much of a coward or too intimidated by his mother to reach out to you.”

  “I don’t know, Kara.”

  “Would you have married Taylor if he’d asked you?”

  “In a heartbeat. I loved Austin, but I was in love with Taylor.”

  “Are you in love with Daddy now?”

  “Yes. Our marriage hasn’t been perfect, but we’ve sacrificed a lot to make it work. I know he felt cheated that I never got pregnant again, and that put a strain on our marriage once he was diagnosed with a low sperm count. My decision not to become a military wife was as difficult for me as it was for Austin. I would’ve followed him around the world if it’d been just me, but there was someone else to consider, you. It wasn’t easy not having my husband with me for your parent-teacher conferences, when your cheerleading team went to Orlando to compete, and your high school graduation.”

  Kara rested her head on her mother’s shoulder like she’d done as a child. “It was never easy for me to make friends, so when we had to move so much, I couldn’t deal with it.”

  “I know.” Jeannette gave her daughter a tender glance. “Have you made friends here?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What do you mean ‘sort of’?”

  “The sheriff is my attorney’s cousin, and he’s sort of taken me under his wing. I met his grandmother, and we’re invited to have dinner with them tomorrow.”

  “Do they know I’m coming?” Jeannette asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Is the sheriff your only friend?”

  “No. I think Morgan and I are going to get along well.”

  “It appears as if you have guy friends. Don’t you think you need at least one girlfriend?”

  Kara laughed. “Morgan is a girl.”

  Jeannette’s mouth formed a perfect O. “I see.”

  The ferry slowed as it neared the dock and landing for Sanctuary Cove. Kara and Jeannette were the last cars off the boat. Kara had paid the ferryman for a bumper sticker for her mother’s car. Other than official vehicles no vehicle was allowed on island roads without a permit.

  “Follow me,” Kara told Jeannette before she slipped in behind the wheel of the Mercedes.

  She drove slowly away from the pier and through downtown Sanctuary Cove. It was Saturday morning, and people were out and about shopping. They drove past the town square. The benches were filled with retirees taking advantage of the warmer weather. Kara smiled when she saw Jack’s Fish House, remembering her unofficial date with Jeff that seemed so long ago when it’d only been a week. What she couldn’t forget were his kisses, kisses that fired her blood while reminding her why she’d been born female: that she was a woman with needs only a man could assuage.

  Kara had no preconceived notions about having a relationship with the handsome lawman. He was a forty-year-old confirmed bachelor who lived with his grandmother on an island with a total population of less than 2,300 residents. She’d made home visits to New York City public housing projects with more than 2,300 tenants in the development. And like those on Cavanaugh Island, everybody knew everybody and t
heir business.

  She didn’t believe she would be able to live on the island and have a normal relationship with a man. Mrs. Todd had revealed Jeff didn’t bring the flowers to Angels Landing but had had them delivered. How long, she mused, had it taken for the news to sweep over the island that Jeffrey Hamilton had sent flowers to Kara Newell.

  Kara had never been one to flaunt her affairs, and she knew she had to develop a thicker skin if she was going to date Jeff. Peering up into her rearview mirror, she saw her mother slowing down. It was apparent she was driving and sightseeing. Jeannette had taken a week’s vacation, and that was more than enough time for Kara to show her the island and Charleston’s historic district.

  Signaling, she took the newly constructed two-lane road to Angels Landing. She maneuvered off the road, signaling again, before driving slowly under a canopy of live oaks draped with Spanish moss. The sight of the pink house at the end of the allée never failed to elicit a feeling of incredulity that the massive trees had survived countless generations that had owned and inhabited the grand house.

  She came to a stop, parking in front of a trio of carriage houses that had been converted to two locked garages used to house Taylor’s three classic cars. Kara motioned for her mother to pull up alongside her.

  “Pop the trunk, and I’ll take your bag inside.” When she saw the direction of her mother’s gaze, she smiled and said, “Close your mouth, Mama.” Using the side door, she led her mother into the main kitchen with brick walls and flooring. A massive fireplace took up half of an entire wall.

  “Oh my word!” Jeannette gasped. “This reminds me of Williamsburg.”

  “I read that the house was built sometime around 1832. There was a fire in 1854, and the first floor was completely destroyed. The house remained unoccupied until 1858. After extensive repairs a gambler, who’d won the house on the turn of a card, moved in with his mistress. Then came the Civil War and he joined the Confederate Army and died in the Battle of Rivers Bridge two months before the war ended.”

  “What happened to the mistress?”

  Smiling, Kara shook her head. “I don’t know yet. I’m still reading a book about the history of Cavanaugh Island. Come, let me show you to your room. After you’re rested I’ll give you a tour of the house and introduce you to Mrs. Todd once she returns from the dentist. She and her husband are off on the weekend.”

  Jeannette followed Kara down a narrow hallway to a staircase at the rear of the house. “Are you losing weight?”

  Kara glanced over her shoulder. “Quite the contrary. I think I’ve gained now that I’m eating three meals a day. I’ve also started exercising.”

  “Where do you exercise?”

  “I walk along the beach.”

  “Don’t exercise too much because you look better with a little more weight.”

  “Spoken like a mother.”

  “That’s because I am a mother, who one day would like to be a grandmother.”

  “That’s definitely not going to happen now. This is your room. You also have a private bathroom.”

  Kara had chosen the bedroom at the far end of the hall for her mother. Embroidered mosquito netting draped the four-poster bed. Kara had dubbed this the yellow room because of the coverlet, pale pine floors, yellow bed dressing, and green fabric on the settee and chairs embroidered with yellow butterflies.

  “How many rooms are in this house?”

  “Twenty.”

  Jeannette closed her eyes. “I can’t imagine one person living here alone.”

  “I guess you get used to it.”

  She gave her daughter a long, penetrating stare as she placed her luggage on the bench at the foot of the bed. “Is that what you intend to do, Kara? Do you really want to ramble around this… this monstrosity of a house alone like Taylor did?”

  Crossing her arms under her breasts, Kara met her mother’s glare. “No.”

  “Didn’t you tell me the housekeeper and her husband live in a guesthouse? And if that’s true, then you are here alone.”

  “Can we talk about this later? Right now, I have to draft a letter of resignation because I’d like to put it in the mail on Monday. I’ll either be in the kitchen or on the front porch if you need me.”

  “I’d like to do a little shopping and sightseeing later this afternoon.”

  “I’ll take you to Haven Creek for shopping; then we’ll go to Sanctuary Cove for dinner.”

  Jeannette slipped out of her lightweight wool jacket. “Why don’t we eat in Angels Landing?”

  “Angels Landing isn’t zoned for businesses. It’s the only town that’s solely residential. Even folks who own large houses with the intent of turning them into boardinghouses can’t because the town council won’t give them a variance.”

  Kara had spent most of her spare time researching the history of the island and the house she would now call home. She knew her property was exempt from the town’s building codes because of its landmark status; once the restoration was complete, and she made it known she was turning it into a museum, she knew there would be little or no opposition.

  “Isn’t there some way for them to get around that?”

  She smiled. “There is always a way to circumvent the law. All they have to do is apply to the Secretary of the Interior for landmark status.”

  Resting her hands at her waist, Jeannette’s smile matched her daughter’s. “What do you plan to do with this place?”

  “You can’t mention a word of this to anyone, Mama. Not even Daddy.”

  It took a full minute before Jeannette said, “Okay.”

  “After the house, the gardens, and the outbuildings are restored, I’m going to turn Angels Landing into a museum. People will be able to purchase tickets for tours. I’ll offer discounts to schoolchildren and senior groups. When I spoke to my attorney, he suggested setting up a foundation with a mission to sustain the highest level of preservation. I’ve been thinking about building an inn not far from the formal gardens to attract corporate groups who wish to hold a conference in a different kind of setting. Then there are always the destination weddings. Why go to the Caribbean when you can marry in the Lowcountry? Again, I would offer discounts on weddings on Fridays and Sundays in May and Friday, Saturday, and Sunday in June.”

  Staring at her only child, it was as if Jeannette was seeing Kara for the first time. “You are truly his child.”

  “What are you talking about, Mama?”

  “Whenever Taylor had to come up with a business plan for any of his business courses, he would always draft two schematics. Then he would submit the least probable of the two while saving the best for himself. His rationale was why give away something he could possibly use for his future.”

  “I was told he made a lot of money for his clients as an investment banker.” A smile played at the corners of Kara’s mouth. “And based on his net worth, he also made quite a bit for himself. Aside from the appraised value on this house and the two thousand acres it sits on, Taylor left me close to five million dollars. That’s only cash on hand in banks. There are still bonds and other securities that I have to get an accountant to interpret for me.”

  Jeannette pressed a hand to her throat. “I don’t believe it!”

  “I must admit, it is a little overwhelming.”

  “It’s mind-boggling, Kara.”

  “I know you and Daddy refinanced your house, so I’m going to give you an early Christmas gift and pay it off.”

  “You can’t!”

  “I can and I will,” Kara countered. “You and Daddy struggled to send me to a private college, then paid for grad school out of your pocket because you didn’t want me to end up with student loans. I never would’ve been able to rent an apartment in Manhattan if I’d had loans. Taylor owes you this, and because he’s not around to repay you, I will.” She held up her hand when Jeannette opened her mouth. “And Mama, please don’t start with me because you’re only going to lose this argument.”

  Jeannette narrow
ed her eyes. “Are you finished mouthing off to your mother?”

  Kara struggled not to laugh. Her mother only pulled rank when she believed she was losing an argument. “Yep. I’ll see you later.” Turning on her heels, she left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  Jeannette tugged at Kara’s arm. “I want to go inside and look around.” They’d stopped in front of a window display of miniature jars of jellies, jams, and relishes.

  Kara followed her into the Cannery, the most delicious aromas wafting to her nose. Her mother had slept for more than four hours, and when Jeannette joined her in the kitchen, it was as if they’d never discussed the awkward subject of money and her intent to pay off their mortgage… or her biological father.

  She liked what could be interpreted as the hustle and bustle of Sanctuary Cove, but it was the laid-back attitude of the artisans in Haven Creek that really appealed to her. Morgan mentioned hiring many of them for the restoration project, and she wanted to stop by the shops to look at samples of their work.

  The tiny bell over the door rang, alerting the shopkeeper that she had a customer. A woman with graying dreadlocks smiled and nodded. “I’ll be with you directly. Feel free to sample the spiced apple butter.”

  Kara walked over to the shelf with mason jars filled with fruit and vegetables: corn, beets, cherries, zucchini, peaches, pears, and an assortment of berries—blackberries, raspberries, and gooseberries. She picked up a small jar of Asian chili/salsa and one of chowchow, placing them in a wire basket. She’d known women in Little Rock who’d canned fruits and vegetables, but she’d never learned the process and neither did her mother.

  The bell rang again. Kara turned and froze when her gaze met and fused with one of the women who’d sat in the conference room during the reading of Taylor’s will. Her gray eyes and sable-brown skin told Kara she was a Patton. She was casually dressed in a pair of fitted jeans, white silk man-tailored blouse, navy blazer, and black leather slip-ons. The solitaire in her wedding set was much too large for her delicate hand.