by Maria Geraci
Kitty pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
Earl narrowed his eyes at her. “Who are you?”
She stood and nervously smoothed down the wrinkles in her linen shift. She hadn’t anticipated Earl not remembering her. “I’m Kitty Burke, Mr. Handy. Amanda Hanahan’s granddaughter?”
Earl looked taken aback. “Tall, scrawny kid, with the freckles?” He eyed her over. “Maybe not so scrawny anymore. I saw you at your grandmother’s funeral. You cried, but you didn’t make a spectacle of yourself.” He motioned for her to sit back in her chair. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m Mr. Ferguson’s Realtor.”
Ted rose from his chair and held out his hand. “We’ve talked on the phone, sir.”
“I talk to a lot of people on the phone.”
“This is about the land deal, Dad—um, Earl,” Vince said. “Remember?”
“I’m not senile. At least not yet.” He ignored Ted’s outstretched hand and pointed to his University of Florida golf shirt. “What year did you graduate?”
“Actually, I never attended the University of Florida,” Ted began, “but I’m a great supporter—”
“Never mind,” Earl growled. “Let’s get on with it. I need to crap and that might take me a couple of hours. Don’t want to waste the whole morning.”
Vince cleared his throat. “Ted is interested in buying beachfront property in Whispering Bay. He’s made an offer—a good one—and I don’t think we should turn it down.”
“Of course you don’t think we should turn it down. So what’s in it for me?” he asked, looking at Kitty.
She glanced at Ted, hoping for some direction. He urged her on with an apprehensive smile. “Well, money, of course,” she said, sounding like a dope.
“I got plenty of that,” Earl snapped. “What do I need more for?”
Vince started to speak, but Earl cut him off. “You’re going to get it all eventually. What’s a few more years? See that snapshot?” he asked her, pointing to the picture of him holding the marlin. “Caught that guppy right out of the ocean.”
She smiled. “I remember the fishing tournament you used to host every year.”
“Those were good days.” Earl turned to his son-in-law. “Maybe I’ll donate the land to one of them conservation groups. The ones that want to save the frogs. Or the turtles. Can’t remember which. They’re always sniffing around here.”
Kitty held her breath. It wasn’t such a bad idea. Of course, that wouldn’t get her the big commission she was counting on.
Vince’s face turned scarlet. “I thought you were against that,” he sputtered.
Earl grinned. For a second, Kitty could have sworn she was looking at the same Earl from the marlin photo. Give or take fifty years. She actually felt a little sorry for Vince. “My grandfather bought that land back at the turn of the century. Last century, that is. It’s been in my family for over a hundred years. I sure as hell ain’t giving it away to no frog lovers.”
She wasn’t sure who looked more relieved, Vince or Ted. “I think you’ll find the price I’m offering extremely generous, sir,” Ted piped in.
“Like I said, I already have enough money,” Earl said, dismissing Ted. Earl frowned at Kitty like he was expecting something from her, only he wasn’t getting it and was disappointed. It reminded her of the way her high school chemistry teacher used to look at her when she hadn’t finished her homework. She hated feeling unprepared. She knew Earl’s reputation for being a straight shooter. What did he want from her?
“I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Handy. I hate the idea of condos on the beach too.” The words came out before she could stop them.
Oh God. Why had she said that?
“I’m not planning to build high-rises, sir,” Ted said, throwing Kitty a split-second glare. “If you’ve looked over the paperwork, you’ll know what I have planned is a string of tasteful, low-rise condos. Very modest and completely in tune with the native landscape—”
“Yeah, yeah . . . I’ve heard it all before.” Once again, Earl looked to Kitty. “If you hate the idea of condos on the beach so much, what are you doing here?”
Good question. What was she doing here? Ted didn’t need her for this deal—unless he was looking for someone to screw it up. Kitty had looked over the papers he had sent over. His partner, Teresa, had done an excellent job. Why wasn’t she here instead?
“Give me one reason I should sell to this fella,” Earl continued, pointing a gnarled finger at Ted.
Earl wanted a reason to sell? Okay, she’d give him one.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Mr. Handy. I’m here for only one thing. The commission. I really, really need the money.”
That silenced the room.
Earl’s cheeks began to twitch.
Kitty looked up at the marlin photo again. “And . . . even if you don’t need the money, wouldn’t it be nice to have some sort of control over what happens to the land your grandfather left you? Or would you rather leave the control to someone else?” she asked, glancing at Vince, who was glaring at her like his head was about to explode.
Earl gave a satisfied laugh. “You’re smarter than the rest, Ferguson. I’ll give you that. Tell you what. I’ll look over the paperwork. If I like the figures, I’ll sign. Don’t come back here unless you bring her”—he pointed his cane at Kitty—“with you.” He stood, balancing his weight with the cane. Vince ran to his side. “That’s what I got the stick for,” he said, waving Vince away. “Now, you’ll have to excuse me, but I’ve got a date with the john.” He nodded to Kitty and shuffled out of the room.
Vince and Ted shook hands and slapped each other on the back.
They were almost to the car when Ted grabbed her by the waist and swung her around. “I knew you were the perfect broker for this deal. You were fantastic! Who would have thought the old guy would fall for the greed angle?”
The greed angle?
It happened so fast Kitty didn’t have time to respond. His mouth came down on hers in a hard kiss. It couldn’t have lasted more than a couple of seconds. Three, tops? She wasn’t sure. She only knew the whole thing left her dumbstruck.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He shook his head and smiled ruefully. “I just get so pumped up whenever I score big like this. How about we celebrate with dinner tonight?” His right hand lingered on her hip, his fingers pressing through the thin cotton shift.
“How about we wait until the contract is signed?” she eked out, stepping out of Ted’s reach.
“Negative thoughts produce negative results.” Before she could respond to that cheesy line, Ted added, “Earl’s old-school. His word is as good as gold. I guarantee you he’s going to like the numbers.”
She forced a smile. “I’m old-school too. Until the contract’s signed, anything can happen. I say we celebrate when the ink’s dry.”
“Whatever you say,” he responded pleasantly.
She folded herself into the passenger seat of his black Lexus, careful to keep her skirt tucked under her thighs. She was aware of Ted’s gaze on her legs. Or maybe she was just imagining it because of the kiss. Kitty only knew she was very glad she hadn’t worn the stilettos again.
Ted talked all the way back to Whispering Bay, throwing out figures and projected construction start dates. All very proper stuff. Kitty began to relax. He hadn’t made a pass at her. Not really. It was like he said, he’d just gotten carried away with the moment.
She made an occasional comment, but she mostly stared out the window. She thought of Frida and the Bistro and Antonio’s dental practice and her own real estate business and Walt Walters and Dolphin Isles. Walt would prosper from Ted’s condo business. The entire town would.
Ted had offered Earl a good deal. Kitty should feel proud of her role. Instead, she felt like ripping into a Snickers bar.
It was probably the change thing. Pilar was always telling her things couldn’t stay the same forever; progress was inevitable. In
a few years, Whispering Bay would look different. But that was good. Right? Life wasn’t stagnant. If you wanted to stay ahead, you had to get with the program.
20
By the time she got back to her office it was mid-afternoon. It was strange not having Becky around. Kitty wished her the best, but she would miss her. Maybe she should advertise for another assistant. Or maybe she would go it alone. She’d have to think about that. At any rate, Ted was right about one thing. Today’s business deal called for a celebration.
She should call Shea and Pilar and maybe they could get the rest of the Babes to—no, that wouldn’t work. Steve was coming over to make dinner and she hadn’t told anyone about it. Not that anyone needed to know she was having dinner with Steve. Certainly not Shea and Pilar. They would only make a big deal about the whole thing and tonight wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t even a date. She would tell them if it was a date. But it wasn’t.
Speaking of which . . . what was she going to wear? Nothing fancy, of course. She would wear something casual. Something for the hot weather. Like her white cotton shorts. They made her legs look tan, which drew attention away from her butt (sort of like an optical illusion), which was a plus. Of course, today they were installing her new air conditioner, so it would be blessedly cool in the house and she could pretty much wear anything. Still, the shorts were a good idea and—
The phone rang, jolting her from the fashion show going on in her head. Finally! A client. She answered in her most professional voice. “Kitty Burke.”
“I can’t believe I got you on the first ring,” said her mother.
Oh no. “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”
“Nothing much. I’m bored out of my mind. Larry and I were supposed to drive up to Savannah to visit friends and play golf, but Pam hasn’t gone into labor yet, so the whole family is basically being held prisoner by her uterus.”
“Mom, I doubt Pam’s uterus is that manipulative.”
“You know what I mean. When I suggested that her doctor induce labor, she gave me that look she loves to give me. Like I’m some child who needs things explained slowly. She told me she doesn’t believe in messing with Mother Nature. That when it was time for her baby to be born, then it would be.”
“I think that’s reasonable,” Kitty said carefully.
“I don’t understand the younger generation. What good is modern medicine if you don’t take advantage of it? She’s probably not going to get an epidural either, so we’ll have to listen to her do that awful deep breathing thing for hours on end.”
“You’re not going to be in the labor room with her, are you?”
“She wants the whole family there. Like some sort of back-woods cabin birth.”
The thought of her mother and Larry’s ex in the same room made Kitty pause. Pam was a much better woman than she was.
“Anyway, I was looking through some catalogues for a new bathing suit cover—I did tell you that Larry and I are going on a cruise in a few weeks? And I found one that was just so adorable—”
“Mom? A client just walked through the door,” Kitty lied, not feeling one bit guilty. Her mother could go on for hours. “I have to let you go.”
“Oh well, of course. Business comes first. By the way, hon, I spoke with that lovely Moose the other day . . .” Her mother paused. “And he told me the strangest thing about the house.”
Kitty had been expecting this. “There’s a good reason I haven’t listed the house yet—”
“I know what you’re going to say, darling. You think we should renovate first. But Larry’s come up with a much better plan. He thinks instead of sinking money into the house, we should tear it down. It’s the land that’s really valuable, you know.”
Tear the house down? Was Larry on drugs? Not that Kitty would blame him. He did, after all, have to live with her mother.
“Katherine, are you still there?”
“I’m here.” But she wasn’t paying attention to whatever her mother was saying anymore. Her mind was too busy spinning in circles. Should she go ahead and tell her mother she planned to buy the house? The deal with Earl wasn’t set in stone. He’d only promised to look over the numbers. But on the other hand, Ted seemed pretty confident. She couldn’t let her mother tear down the house. She couldn’t even let her think of it. “Actually, Mom, I was going to tell you that I have some fantastic news. I have a buyer.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. “Why didn’t you say so up front? That’s wonderful! How much are they offering?”
“Well . . . we’re still negotiating and I don’t want to jinx it. But it’s going to be good,” she added, hoping that would placate her mother.
“Have you checked them out? It’s a legitimate offer, right?”
“Oh yeah, it’s very legitimate.”
“You don’t know how relieved I am. Even though the house is paid off, there’re still the taxes and the insurance, and I hate to ask Larry for money for that sort of thing. When do you think you’ll know for certain?”
“A few days. A week at the most.”
Surely by then they’d have settled the deal with Earl. Then she could count on her commission and make a formal offer. In the meantime, it was best not to tell her mother the offer was coming from her. She’d just ask too many questions Kitty couldn’t answer right now.
And if for some reason something went wrong with the deal . . .
No. Ted was right. Negative thoughts produced negative results. She would just have to make sure that no matter what, the deal with Earl came through.
21
Kitty drove home to find the Vance Air-Conditioning van blocking her driveway. Definitely not a good sign. They should have been done by now. She parked on the side of the street and went in to investigate. The sauna at her gym was more comfortable than the inside of her house.
“I was about to call you,” said the technician, seeing the expression on her face. He was young and had a shaved head. Kitty remembered his name was Matt.
“Is there a problem?”
“The wiring in this place is ancient. Jake is a whiz with these old houses, but he’s working in Panama City today. I think we’re going to have to call it quits and start again tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Sorry, I know that sucks,” he said, digging a handkerchief out of his back pocket to mop the sweat off his head, “but there’s not much we can do until Jake gets out here.”
The heat must be frying her brain, because all she could do was nod in a daze. She didn’t have the energy left to ask how much extra this delay would cost. Matt and the other technician picked up their tools, loaded up their van, and rode off into the sweltering sunset.
Kitty pulled off her shoes and collapsed on the living room sofa. Last night had been miserable and it looked like she was in store for a repeat. She could always spend the night with Shea or Pilar, or even with Viola. But then, there was her not-a-date with Steve. He was supposed to be here at seven to cook for her. That was now out of the question. They’d melt away. She’d just have to call him to cancel. No reason to be disappointed, she told herself.
She had just pulled out the phone book to look up Gus’s number when the doorbell rang.
It was Steve. He wore a pair of khaki shorts and a navy blue polo with deck shoes. There was a small cooler and a plastic grocery bag in his hands.
“You’re early,” she said.
“You don’t sound happy to see me.” He walked into her living room and grimaced. “It’s hotter than a four-balled tomcat in here.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Kitty led him into the kitchen. “It’s not that I don’t want you to cook me dinner,” she said, “but as you can see, my air is still out.”
“We could go somewhere else,” he offered.
“Like where?”
He thought for a moment. “Let me make a call.” He pulled his cell phone from the back pocket of his shorts and slipped out the kitchen door to the backyard.
&nbs
p; Apparently he needed privacy for the call. Which was fine with Kitty because she used the opportunity to play detective and peek in the grocery sack. Inside were two bottles of wine, a bottle of olive oil, a head of garlic, an onion, a small can of tomato paste, and a bag of orzo. She was about to scout out the ingredients in the cooler when he stepped back into the kitchen. “I’m impressed,” she said. “Whatever you’re planning to make looks good.”
“You can be impressed later. I have a place we can use, but we need to be there in an hour and it’ll take almost that long to get there.”
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“It’s a surprise.”
She wasn’t sure if she liked the sound of that.
“Give me five minutes,” Kitty said, dashing to the shower.
She washed and shampooed her hair in record time. Every few seconds she glanced at the bathroom door, half expecting Steve to pop in like the other night. Which was silly. It was called a one-night stand because you only did it one night. She dried off and threw on a white tank top and jean skirt (on second thought, the white shorts did make her butt look too big). Her hair was wet, but there was no time to do anything about it.
They got in his truck and turned east on Highway 98. She readjusted the vent to let the cold air-conditioning blast on her face and drew her fingers through her hair, feeling the fat sausage curls shape and grow. The truck had been a nice surprise. Not that it was a junker. The outside was in excellent condition. But she hadn’t expected the inside to be so clean and comfortable. Either he was a neat freak or he paid someone to detail it all the way down to Q-Tip precision, in which case, he was still sort of a neat freak. Maybe Shea was right about the metrosexual thing.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Huh?”
“You’re smiling.”
“I was just thinking this was a great truck.”
“My ex hated it.”
Kitty shot him a sideways glance. “Why?”
“She thought I should drive something smaller, sexier, I guess.”
“I know it’s a cliché, but personally, I’ve always thought bigger is better.”