The Widows of Sea Trail (The Widows of Sea Trail Trilogy)

by Jacqueline DeGroot

  So of course, I was in total shock when during the appetizer course Matt showed up as a last-minute substitute for Gene. It was all I could do to nibble on my Parmesan wafer and not to curse Viv and Pat out loud. They must be tittering in their wine at the clubhouse right about now, I thought as I forced myself to concentrate on the wafer so I wouldn’t choke on it as Matt’s fiery eyes met mine over a glass of merlot.

  It was time to serve the first course, my contribution to the meal so I was glad to disappear into the kitchen while I seethed and ladled out the soup. I added the scant tablespoon of balsamic vinegar to give each bowl a little punch and would have added a whole cup to his had I known which one Rita was going to serve him. When Rita had served everyone, I took my seat, which interestingly enough was directly across from Matt’s. I could not hold it in any longer. I had waited long enough.

  “So, Matt, where’s your wife?”

  “My wife?” The shock on his face was genuine. His eyes popped and his chin lifted. Then I watched as the light clicked on and it dawned on him where I had come up with the idea that he was married.

  But before he could say anything, Rita piped up, “Married? Our Matt’s not married!”

  I felt the color leach out of my face and then just when I thought I had to be melting off the chair, I turned back and saw Matt’s stern countenance. Whoever had coined the phrase “Like a chin chiseled out of granite,” had this exact scenario in mind. The heat and anger flashing out at me as his face visibly hardened caused a reciprocal flush of embarrassment to sweep me from head to toe.

  Seconds later Matt was at my side hauling me out of the chair by my elbow, and none too gently I might add. He turned to our host and said with a voice so gruff I wouldn’t have placed it as his, “Please excuse us.”

  I was dragged down the hallway and hauled into the first bedroom we came to. The door slammed behind us and I was alone with a man who was quickly turning into fury personified.

  “You thought I was married?” It was as if he was grinding each word out under clamped teeth.

  I just stared at him, watching his anger send blood pulsing through his jugular.

  “After all we’d done, after all we said, you thought I was involved with someone else?”

  “I . . . I . . .”

  He started backing me into the room, I desperately wanted to keep some distance so I shuffled back coming out of a sandal in the process.

  “You thought I was the kind of man who had no loyalty, no honor, no commitment to promise?” He was really gritting out the words now and as his lips pulled back to snarl them out I could see how much effort it was taking him not to grab me and throw me against a wall. His arms were shaking with the fists he had formed that were clenching and unclenching at his sides.

  “I . . . she had the same last name.”

  “That’s because she’s my sister!”

  “I didn’t know that!”

  “No, maybe you didn’t. But did you have to assume the worst of me?”

  “I, I . . .” I really didn’t know what to say to that. I’d been a colossal fool. “I’m sorry. I saw you run to her, I saw you carry her . . . I heard you call her your other half.”

  “She’s my sister, my twin sister. What did you expect me to do after she collapsed from a seizure, leave her on the floor where people could gawk at her?”

  “No, no, of course not. I just didn’t . . .”

  “And you didn’t ask. You didn’t confront me. You just ran!”

  “Yes,” I whispered, completely mortified. “I just ran.”

  He had backed me up to the bedpost now, and my hands that were behind my back, grabbed for purchase on the tall post at the foot of the bed. I needed something to anchor me, something to keep me from falling backward.

  “Didn’t I once tell you that I had never been in love before?” His voice was soft now, too soft. There was a very dangerous timbre to it.

  “Yes?” I asked as if that even mattered.

  His eyes flashed again and I watched the muscles in his face go tense again. “So you thought I would marry someone without being in love with them? That’s pretty low.”

  I closed my eyes and willed the tears to go away, but I felt one leak out anyway. It ran down the side of my face. A knuckle came up to brush it roughly away then his hand went back to his side.

  “Then when I was out of my mind worrying about you, you made me think you didn’t care, that I was just a dalliance you had made time for.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Well that’s certainly how you made me feel or don’t you remember what you said at your mother’s door?”

  “I remember, but I thought you’d used me, betrayed me.”

  “How did you hold it back? How did you keep from calling me every vile name in the book? Christ, Cat, if you thought I was married and still did those things to you, with you, how could you not accuse me, slap me, claw my face to shreds?” He was calmer now, but not a bit less threatening. “Did you care that little?” he whispered as his hand slowly reached up to cup my damp cheek. “Did I mean nothing to you?”

  I gave a great sob and covered my mouth with a shaking hand. I couldn’t answer him. I couldn’t even grab at his coat when he turned and abruptly left. The door opened and closed. I heard some voices, Matt’s among them, coming from the end of the hall. Then I heard someone confidently stride across the hardwood floor and open the front door. Moments later I heard Matt’s pickup truck start and pull out of the driveway. I listened as the sound faded to silence. He was gone again. Only this time it was my fault, and he had left me.

  I put myself back together the best I could using some tissues I found on a nightstand table. I fluffed my hair in the mirror over the dresser and found my errant shoe and then I slowly made my way to the door. I took a deep breath before opening it, and then I walked down the hall and back to the table where six people were eating the soup I had made, pretending it was so wonderful that they were too immersed to even notice my return. I mumbled my apologies, grabbed my purse and left. I could only imagine what everyone would be saying during the following courses. For me, I had screwed things up royally. I’d had the perfect love. And I hadn’t trusted enough to believe in it.

  As I walked to my car I noticed a scrap of lavender material on the hood. It didn’t require more than a few steps to recognize what had been tossed there—the thong panties I had worn that night on the beach, the ones Matt had tucked so carefully into his pocket. He obviously wanted nothing to remind him of me anymore.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Vintage Sleuth The next morning I found some solace working in the gardens at Sea Trail’s Chapel on the Green. I weeded the area around the sixty-odd memorial bricks, Stephen’s included, and helped plant a few bushes. I caressed the leaves of the Japanese maple tree planted in honor of Janie Carpinello and polished the statue of the open Bible that the garden club had dedicated, while every few minutes I had to swipe at tears coursing down my face. Members of the prayer circle were giving me sympathetic glances and asking if I wanted to talk, but I kept waving them off, muttering, “I was just stupid, very, very stupid.”

  In the afternoon I took some brownies over to Jeter and listened while he remembered Henrietta’s penchant for burning piecrusts. He had such a wistful, sad smile that I was beginning to wonder if this love stuff was worth it. Here he and I were, two miserable souls suffering because we were lonely without the ones we loved. Better to have loved and lost? Bah!

  That night there was a big party at the Pink Palace. I didn’t feel like going, but I had to. I knew the Japonikas were going to be there because it was of all things, his birthday. I hadn’t been invited, but no one really pays all that much attention to those kinds of things around here, usually everyone is welcome as long as you contribute. I made a pasta salad and had thought to get him a present, sort of.

  I came late and meandered around talking to friends and nibbling on finger foods. I really wasn’t in the
mood for revelry, but I had promised Lisa I’d get these prints and I would never have this kind of opportunity again. So despite having a headache to match my heartache, I rallied and waited until it was present opening time.

  I managed to snag the seat next to Alvin, as it was important that I handle all his gifts. So I offered to carry them after he opened them to a low table where they could be displayed. He seemed rather pleased with that. The whole time I watched him, in profile, as he opened each one, I tried to be objective and not connect his hooked and crooked nose to what I suspected was a crooked quirk in his personality. I took each item as it was opened and set it out for display watching carefully so I wouldn’t miss my opportunity. He finally came to my present, tugged open the ties and carefully pulled the bottle of wine from the cloth bag I had put it in. His eyes lit when he saw the brand and the vintage. His hand was firmly gripped around the bottle, the bottle I had carefully wiped down before wrapping. I knew he was a wine connoisseur and had chosen carefully, he was very happy with his present. I was very happy with the way he was holding the bottle. I quickly grabbed the neck of the bottle and laughingly said, “Maybe we should open this now so you can share.”

  His laughed joined mine and he said, “Not a chance, that’s stuff’s too good for this crowd!”

  I quickly stole the bottle away from him and took it to the table. Turning away from the crowd, I placed it in my oversized handbag and then took out an identical bottle to place on the table next to his other gifts. As soon as I could manage it, I slipped out and hurried to meet Lisa.

  I was almost to the door when Al pushed through the crowd and came up to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, where ya goin? I thought we was going to share that bottle of wine?”

  It was quite apparent he’d already had wine aplenty, so I just smiled and winked, said, “Not tonight,” and extricated my arm from his and pushed through the door. I was half afraid he was going to follow, but he didn’t.

  Lisa was waiting when I got the station and I gingerly took the bottle out of my purse by holding onto the neck. I placed it on the corner of her desk and said, “If I was a betting person, which I am not, I would say this is your murderer, although I don’t think it was pre-meditated, necessarily.”

  “Well I sure hope he enjoys his birthday party as it’s likely to be his last.”

  She told me she’d let me know as soon as she knew, but my intuition told me that we had our murderer. I didn’t need the match confirmed. A man had died because another couldn’t stand the thought of losing his precious view of the golf course. He’d been greedy, he hadn’t been satisfied with the view off his deck and out to the green, he’d wanted to keep the panorama of the entire fairway, too. Now his view would be of institutionalized walls painted either gray or green, and iron bars over tiny windows. He certainly wouldn’t have the view he’d had or the wonderful sounds of birds twittering and trees swaying in the breeze. It made me sick.

  I asked to be notified when Mr. Japonika was arrested so I could call Clay Harmon’s daughter Debbie with the news and then I slugged down four Advil and went to bed. Tomorrow would surely be a better day.

  Chapter Thirty

  Wishing and Hoping Iwas face down on a lounger at the Maple’s pool, my head on my fist with the book I was reading below me on the cement apron of the pool so I could read without getting a crick in my neck. I heard the pool gate slam. I wasn’t expecting anyone to join me, but it was a reflex action to turn and see who was coming into the pool enclosure. My heart stopped as I recognized Matt’s thick head of hair and handsome profile as he latched the gate behind him. I had walked here so I was fairly certain he didn’t expect to run into me.

  I quickly turned back to my book and pretended not to notice the new arrival even as I felt his shadow fall over me. There was a slight hesitation; I could see it against the backdrop of my book. But he didn’t stop. I waited until I was sure he had to be several yards away before I heaved a great sigh of relief. Then as casually as I could, I flipped myself over onto my back. Thankfully, all parts of my tankini followed and I didn’t need to readjust anything. But I was wrong about how far Matt had managed to move in so short a time. He was all the way at the far end of the pool, by the deep end.

  As he bent to toss his towel on a lounger, I could not help but admire the way he looked in his Polo surfer-style bathing suit. Then he stood and looked directly at me. There was no hint of a smile. In fact, his lips appeared pensive and arrogant as he lifted an eyebrow in mock greeting. He sauntered over to the edge and dived in even though there are signs everywhere that strictly forbade it. It was a casual dive the kind where the knees flopped up to the back of the thighs to help minimize submersion. Then he was every bit the athlete, controlling his speed through the water with an effortless grace. He propelled himself underwater and then submerged on the opposite side. I pretended to read but watched as he sloughed the water from his hair with both hands as he stood at the shallow end. He was as far away from me as he could be and still be in the pool and I knew that this had to have been planned. His stance and the way he was showing me his broad back told me that he wanted to be anywhere as long as it was away from me.

  He ducked back into the water and swam laps for twenty minutes non-stop. It was mesmerizing to watch as he powerfully churned the water and then flipped to reverse himself to switch direction by pushing off with his feet. Here was a man who enjoyed a good workout and whether this was normal for him or something he did to burn off restless energy, I could not help but admire how good he looked just doing it.

  But I sure as hell wasn’t going to let him know that. Before he could make the turn coming back toward me, I quickly grabbed my things and left. I mean why was I punishing myself like this? I couldn’t have him, so why sit here drooling? And I sure as hell didn’t want him to see how desperately I wanted things to be different between us.

  Once home, I called mom. It was time for a heart-toheart, a dressing-down, and some much needed advice. We decided it would be a good thing if I sent some flowers with a note. I started working on the note at eight o’clock, took it to bed with me at ten, put it aside at midnight and woke up at three with the perfect words. “I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I love you.”

  I sent the flowers to his house as soon as Shady Grove opened. And then I waited. And waited. And waited. Reading the paper on Thursday I found out that he had probably never received them. The Myrtle Beach paper had featured him in an article. It was about Matt, his company, and how he had managed to save the town where his newest factory was from economic ruin. In the story it was reported that on the previous Friday, he had given the factory workers until Monday at eight A.M. to show up for work. He said that if they didn’t, he’d have a whole new roster of employees show up with all their possessions in tow by ten on Tuesday.

  The strikers ignored his threat and only a smattering of people showed up ready for work by eight. By ninethirty the next morning, three hundred and fifty moving vans pulled into town. The odd assortment of U-Haul and Ryder rental trucks parked along the perimeter of the huge factory parking lot and within a few hours a makeshift tent city had been erected. Word around town was that as soon as houses became available due to the inevitable foreclosures, the new workers and their families would scoop them up. Wednesday morning at eight A.M. there were two lines of employees, the townspeople who wanted their jobs back, and the truckers who were waiting to fill out their paperwork as the new hires. Matt gave everyone who showed up his or her old job back with a modest increase in pay. The out-oftowners were paid for their time and trouble and left town Wednesday afternoon. It was hinted that all the vans had been empty, that Matt had hired all the drivers and rented all the trucks. That he had scared the locals by making them see their replacements, eye-to-eye. The strategy had worked.

  It was Thursday now and according to the article, Matt would be spending the next few days in meetings with his new management team. He had saved the day; the town was jubila
nt and excited about the new prosperity that was practically guaranteed now that the townspeople believed Matt had their interest at heart. Everyone was happy that the factory would be serving the state, as it converted to producing much-needed medical supply products for its many hospitals.

  To me, it meant that Matt was not on the plantation, and probably hadn’t been since I’d seen him at the pool on Sunday afternoon. He didn’t know that I was sorry. He didn’t know I was begging his forgiveness. And he didn’t know that I was hopelessly in love with him.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Still Not Talking It was heavy weights at the Pink Palace and the combination party room and work out areas were packed with retirees determined to keep their bodies young.

  I especially hated this class but it was a necessary evil. I felt the results very quickly. I could count on sore muscles by evening, sometimes so much so that I had to ease myself off the couch to make my way to my bed at night.

  As I put my water bottle and work out mat on one of the tables, I heard Nicole call out for us to get our steps. We all groaned, it was a harder workout with the risers. We took a foray into the work out area where the treadmills were whining and the stacked weights were clacking on the universal machine. Voices were raised to compensate for the loud blare of the TV and the tangy musky odor of sweat competed with the burning rubber and metallic smells of the heated machinery.

  As I stood in line to get my step from the top of the closet I looked over and I saw him. He saw me in that same moment. Looking up from the weights he had just adjusted on the butterfly press he stopped in mid-stride. Then he stood and moved to another position. He looked yummy, even glistening with sweat. He was so overbearingly tall that he dwarfed the machine. With bronzed shoulders that were sculpted by a sweaty tank top tucked into athletic shorts, he was amazing to look at. The way his shirt molded to his body it was hard not to notice and appreciate his nipped in waist and broad chest. Heartbreakingly short nylon shorts emphasized the bulging muscles of his thighs and displayed his incredibly long legs. He had expensive-looking New Balance running shoes and Tommy Hilfiger socks on impossibly big feet. I took this all in before focusing back on his face. And then I took that in, too: the stubble around his rugged jaw, his full sensuous quirking lips, the shining blue-gray eyes that were piercing mine. I felt heat zinging through me. But he didn’t so much as smile. He was apparently still very angry with me.