The Beaches and Brides ROMANCE COLLECTION: 5 Historical Romances Buoyed by the Sea

by Cathy Marie Hake, Lynn A. Coleman, Mary Davis, Susan Page Davis

  Chapter 6

  The day following the funeral, Maggie helped Vivian into her dyed mourning dress once again. She wasn’t with child. She knew that now. Her time had come. She had been looking forward to the challenge of motherhood and raising Randolph’s son to be an honorable man whom Randolph would have been proud to call his son. It would have given her a purpose—direction—and somehow redeemed her. Now all she had was herself.

  Conner rode up on Dakota, and Scotty had the carriage waiting out front. Conner gave Dakota’s reins to Scotty and took the carriage with Vivian. They arrived at the attorney’s office just before one thirty and were ushered into his office precisely at the appointed time.

  Mr. Benton was a plump man in his sixties with a welcoming smile. “Please sit down.” After Vivian had taken a seat, Conner and Mr. Benton also sat down. Mr. Benton looked over his glasses from her to Conner. “Mr. Jackson, I was not expecting you until two.”

  Conner nodded. “I didn’t want Mrs. Carlyle to have to face any of this alone.”

  Mr. Benton shuffled some papers. “This puts me in a bit of an awkward position. I have a private matter I wish to speak about to Mrs. Carlyle before I read the terms of the will.”

  Conner stood immediately. “I’ll wait in the reception area.”

  Mr. Benton stood as well. “Thank you. We won’t be long.”

  Her stomach knotted. She’d wanted Conner here with her, but what if the attorney knew something of her past. She didn’t want that revealed to Conner. Mr. Benton had said a private matter.

  When the door closed behind Conner, the lawyer sat back down behind his mahogany desk and smiled at her. “There is a matter concerning your husband’s will.”

  Her insides twisted tighter. “What is it?”

  “Captain Carlyle came to me about changing his will.”

  When had he had time after their fight?

  “He’d said he’d been lax in making arrangements since marrying. His intent was to add you to his will. I prepared the document, but he hadn’t come in yet to sign it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You are not mentioned in your husband’s legal will.”

  She would get nothing. Had a part of Randolph known she hadn’t been honest with him, and was that why he’d put off changing his will? “Then there’s no need for me to be here.”

  “On the contrary. I have his revised will that includes you.”

  “But it’s not signed and therefore not legal.” She still got nothing. That’s how Randolph would have wanted it in the end. Her just reward.

  “And that’s why I didn’t want Mr. Jackson in here. We can petition the court to consider this new will, though unsigned. I will testify on your behalf and inform the court of Captain Carlyle’s intent. If the other parties listed in your husband’s will don’t object, you should get your share.”

  “And if they do?”

  “We might be able to get you something. You were, after all, Captain Carlyle’s legal wife. I was your husband’s attorney, and now I’ll be yours.”

  She studied the man. “Mr. Jackson is in my husband’s will, isn’t he? That’s why you’ve summoned him.”

  Mr. Benton nodded. “And why I didn’t want him present during this meeting with you. If you choose to pursue this, we would be petitioning against Mr. Conner Jackson and Mr. William Carlyle.”

  She’d kept a secret from Randolph that she knew he never would have approved of. William had warned her. When Randolph returned, he wouldn’t have signed the new will that included her. A will was to carry out a person’s wishes, and she was sure that Randolph’s wishes didn’t include leaving her anything. “Leave his will as it is. We weren’t married very long. Mr. Jackson and Randolph’s brother are more deserving.”

  “Mrs. Carlyle, please reconsider. The length of time you were married has no bearing on whether or not you’re deserving.”

  No, but her secret was. She’d married Randolph with a lie between them that she knew he would never accept. She didn’t deserve any of Randolph’s money or possessions. “I’ve made up my mind.”

  Mr. Benton shook his head. “I’ll give you a week to reconsider the ramifications of your actions, and then we’ll talk again on this matter. I would be doing Randolph a disservice if I didn’t at least try to persuade you to take action.”

  If he knew what she knew about how Randolph felt about her past, he wouldn’t insist, so she simply nodded. “I’ll wait out in the lobby while you speak with Mr. Jackson.”

  Conner stood when he saw Vivian exit Mr. Benton’s office. She looked neither unduly upset nor pleased. What had Randolph left her?

  “Mr. Jackson, won’t you come in?”

  “What about Mrs. Carlyle?”

  “I’ll wait out here.”

  “Why?” He looked from her to the attorney and back.

  “The reading is just for you.”

  He turned back to Mr. Benton. “Shouldn’t she be there for the reading?”

  “There are extenuating circumstances that don’t require Mrs. Carlyle to be present.” Mr. Benton motioned for Conner to enter his office.

  This was all very odd. “Can Mrs. Carlyle be present if I want her to be?”

  Mr. Benton nodded.

  He turned to Vivian and held out his hand to her. “Please come.”

  She glanced at Mr. Benton then took Conner’s hand. Why had she hesitated?

  When Mr. Benton finished reading the will, Conner stared at the man. There had to be more. There had to be something for Vivian. William inherited the house and half of Carlyle Shipping, and he’d inherited the other half of the shipping enterprise. What was left for Vivian? “There has to be more. What about Mrs. Carlyle?”

  “As I explained to Mrs. Carlyle, Captain Carlyle hadn’t signed his new will that named her as a beneficiary. The will he had in place before he married is legal and binding.”

  “But she should get something. She was his wife.”

  “I’m not going to pursue it,” Vivian said.

  “Pursue what?”

  Mr. Benton took a deep breath. “I have counseled Mrs. Carlyle to petition the courts to consider the intent of Captain Carlyle’s new will that he had not yet signed.”

  “Then do it. What will she get?”

  “Half the house and one-third of the shipping business. It’s in your best interest to find yourself an attorney.”

  Mr. Benton had no idea what was in Conner’s best interest. “I won’t fight.” Vivian’s well-being was in his best interest.

  “It’s okay. I’ll write to William, and as soon as he can come and take possession of the house, I’ll leave.”

  His gut clenched. She couldn’t leave. He wouldn’t let her. “This is wrong.”

  She turned soulful eyes on him. “This is the way Randolph left his affairs. I will honor that.”

  Why? He wanted to fight for her. “Randolph would want you taken care of. He asked me to see that you were taken care of if anything should happen to him.” Had Randolph sensed something? “I made a promise.”

  “Please let it be.”

  He didn’t want to, but because she asked, he would … for now.

  On the carriage ride back to her house, she said, “I’ll write to William and ask him what he’d like to do about the house. Maybe he and Sarah will move up here. I think they’d like it here, don’t you?”

  What did it matter if William and his wife would like it here? “I’ll write to William, as well, and tell him Randolph died before he could change his will. I know he will insist on honoring the new will, even unsigned.”

  “Don’t. I won’t accept it. Promise me you won’t ask anything of William on my behalf.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have my reasons. Please, Conner.”

  He couldn’t refuse her and nodded, but he could still tell William what he thought without asking anything of him. William was an honorable man like Randolph; he would do the right thing. And from what Conner u
nderstood, William’s wife was a friend of Vivian’s. Certainly she wouldn’t stop William from doing what was right and fair.

  “Would you like to come inside, or do you need to get back to your store?”

  If he stayed, he’d probably just make her mad trying to convince her to take action. “I should get back. Martin might be overwhelmed.” He should head over to Randolph’s shipping business and see what state his affairs were in.

  Vivian entered her foyer, and Maggie took her cape. “Mrs. Parker and her son are in the parlor.”

  When Vivian strode through the doorway, Abigail was once again smiling at her son. An emptiness opened in her belly; she wouldn’t be having a son.

  “Abigail, it’s so good to see you again.”

  Abigail turned, her gaze flickered down Vivian’s dress, and her smile dipped slightly. “I wanted to fit the bodice on you and size the waist of the skirt.”

  Vivian looked down at the dress she had on, her black mourning dress. Should she say something about it or let it pass? Abigail had obviously noticed. “I’m sure you are wondering about my dress.”

  “Your wardrobe is none of my concern, except for the dress you have commissioned from me.”

  She sat. “I’ll tell you anyway. This was a dress I already owned that I never liked. It was peach, which is a dreadful color on me. Maggie dyed it so I would have something appropriate to wear until I could have a dress made. It’s better in black, but I still don’t like it much. I’ve never been fond of black.”

  “Sad,” Harry said from his seat next to his mother.

  Abigail patted her son’s leg. “That’s right.” Then she turned to Vivian. “Harry thinks black is sad and refused to wear it after a time.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, how long did you wear mourning clothes?”

  “Three months to the day. It was as if something inside Harry said enough mourning. It’s time to get on with living. I still grieve my loss, but I try to be happy as much as I can in front of Harry.”

  “How long since your husband passed away?”

  “Six months next week.” Tears welled in Abigail’s eyes. “We’ve almost run out of the money my husband saved. I don’t know where we will go when we lose the house.”

  “You’re young. You’ll find another husband.”

  “I hope not. I don’t know if I could handle another loss.” A tear slipped down Abigail’s cheek. She quickly swiped it away and stole a glance at her son. Harry hadn’t noticed as he was busy picking cookie crumbs off his jacket.

  An ache welled up inside Vivian to have a love like that. She hadn’t had that with her first husband and certainly not with Randolph.

  After Abigail left, Vivian prayed for Abigail and her small son. She also prayed to find a love like the one Abigail had had with her husband. Then she sat down and wrote a letter to William, telling him about Randolph’s death, what he’d been left in the will, and asking him what he wanted her to do about his newly inherited house. After that, she went to bed without supper. It had been a long day, and she was exhausted. Tomorrow she would consider what she was to do with the rest of her life.

  Chapter 7

  Conner entered Carlyle Shipping. The sandy-haired clerk was leaning back in his chair with his feet up on his desk, eyes closed.

  Conner cleared his throat.

  The man looked up at him with sleepy eyes then suddenly came alert, dropping his feet to the floor. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “I want to talk to whoever is in charge here.”

  “Captain Carlyle owns Carlyle Shipping, but Mr. Abernathy manages the office.”

  “Are you aware that Captain Carlyle recently died?”

  The man sat straighter and swallowed hard. “Yes, sir. We’ve been running things as usual. Mr. Abernathy says he still has a business to run, orders and shipping to provide and schedule.”

  “It sounds like Mr. Abernathy thinks he’s inherited the captain’s business.”

  “I don’t know, sir. I’m just a clerk.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Jonathan Kirkide, sir.”

  “Please stop calling me sir. My name is Conner Jackson, and I’m one of the new owners of Carlyle Shipping.”

  The young man’s eyes grew wide. “Yes, sir, Mr. Jackson, sir. Oops. Sorry, sir. I mean, Mr. Jackson.”

  He wasn’t going to discuss the future of Carlyle Shipping with a clerk. “I need to see Mr. Abernathy now.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jonathan stood so fast that his chair tipped back to the wall behind him. “Right this way.” Jonathan guided him down a hallway and through a door to the warehouse where men were busy moving crates.

  Conner followed Jonathan up a flight of stairs to an office that overlooked the warehouse floor.

  Jonathan knocked then opened the door. “Mr. Abernathy, Mr. Jackson to see you.”

  Mr. Abernathy, a middle-aged man with a handlebar mustache, sat at ease behind the large mahogany desk. “I’m busy right now. Make an appointment with Mr. Kirkide, and I’ll see you later in the week.”

  Conner stepped into the room and up to the desk. “Mr. Abernathy, let me introduce myself: Conner Jackson, one of the new owners of Carlyle Shipping.”

  Mr. Abernathy’s gaze shifted up but his head did not move. “Is that so?”

  Conner reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out a letter. “This is from Captain Carlyle’s attorney.”

  Mr. Abernathy made a point of reading the letter carefully and slowly before refolding it and handing it back. Then he stood and held out his hand. “It’s good to meet you. Please have a seat.”

  There was something in the hardness of the man’s face that belied his pleasant-sounding words. Conner shook the man’s hand and sat.

  Mr. Abernathy steepled his fingers. “We all speculated that the captain’s new wife would get the business. Of course I planned to run the business as usual for her. No need to worry the poor widow with business affairs.”

  Conner didn’t like the slightly demeaning tone in the manager’s voice. “There is some dispute as to Mrs. Carlyle’s portion of the business, but I’m taking charge until the other owners and I, along with the attorneys, can decide just how to distribute this asset. Until then, I’ll be making all decisions.”

  Mr. Abernathy’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. If he hadn’t been looking, Conner would have missed it. “Of course. I’m at your service. The captain trusted me with all aspects of this business, so I can answer any questions you have.”

  “What is the state of the business?”

  “Business has not been so good lately, but we’re in the black, barely.”

  He didn’t like Mr. Abernathy speaking of Randolph’s business with so much possessiveness. “I would like to see the account books if you don’t mind.”

  “Why should I mind? You’re part owner now.” Mr. Abernathy stood a little too eagerly. “Right this way.” He walked through a door at the side of his office into an adjoining office where a brunette woman in her thirties sat behind the desk.

  “Miss Demarco, this is Mr. Jackson, one of the new owners.”

  Her eyes widened slightly. “Is that so?” She gave him a tip of her head. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Conner noted a bit of insincerity in her greeting.

  “Mr. Jackson would like to see the books.”

  “I can assure you they’re all in order.”

  He hoped they were. “I appreciate you keeping the books so well. If I can just look through them to get an overall view of Carlyle Shipping so I can let the other owners know how the business is faring …”

  Miss Demarco seemed reluctant to give up her books but finally said, “Certainly. How far back would you like to go?”

  “Let me start with the most recent and go back a year to start.”

  Miss Demarco pulled several ledger books and placed them on her well-ordered desk. “I’ll finish recording today’s totals in the morning if that is all right with you, M
r. Abernathy.”

  “That will be fine. Come to my office. I have some other work for you.”

  Conner determined to be at this office more often than Randolph would have had time for. The people here had an air about them that this was their company and not Randolph’s. He poured over the books for three hours until he was starting to see cross-eyed.

  Conner’s head was pounding by the time he left the shipping office. It would be a sweet relief to see Vivian.

  First, he stopped by his store. It was late. Martin should have closed up by now. The CLOSED sign was in place and the door locked. He unlocked and opened the door to find Martin sitting on a stool behind the counter looking guilty with an open can of beans in his hand and his mouth full. He chewed quickly and swallowed. “I was really hungry.”

  Martin deserved more than a measly can of beans for all he did. He waved the younger man off. “Why haven’t you gone home?” Fred trotted over and stood on her haunches. He picked her up.

  Martin dropped his spoon into the can. “I wasn’t sure what to do when you didn’t come back from the attorney’s. I knew you’d be back eventually and thought I should wait … but I got hungry.” Martin dipped his head as though guilty of some great crime.

  Martin was young, only twenty-three, but he was reliable. Conner couldn’t say that about his other transient employees. Now he understood how Ian, his own former boss, had felt about him. Conner had just done his job as well as he could, always a fear in the back of his mind that Ian would terminate his employ or find someone else to do his job better. But now that he had employees of his own, he understood the value of reliable help. He grabbed a bag of Saratoga chips and tossed them to Martin. “Enjoy, and don’t worry about the beans.” He would have to reward Martin in some other way, as well. With so many dishonorable people around, Martin needed to know that he was appreciated. “Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Martin swung on his coat and grabbed the bag of chips.

  As Martin opened the door and prepared to step outside, Conner said, “Thanks.”

  Martin shot him a smile and a nod then was gone into the night.