by Tara Cowan
He was over at the little desk, picking up the key. He had a paper coffee cup and a little bread box in his hand. He walked toward her, handing her both. “Just in case,” he said, meeting her eyes.
She held his eyes, somehow wanting him to know in the midst of her freak-out that she didn’t blame him. A long moment passed, and he offered and she accepted the breakfast, almost like an emotional truce. A strong we will never speak of this again rose between them. She was glad he didn’t want to pretend like they had been dating, or that they would.
He cleared his throat. “Check-out is at eleven, so…”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding, her voice sounding overloud in the quiet room. “Thanks for this.” She looked down, feeling incredibly awkward. A blueberry muffin and… She took a sip. Orange juice. He locked up behind them and they walked down to the foyer. There was a long line at the desk, so he gave her the keys, and she went on out, putting her cup in the cup holder and opening the muffin. She was actually ravenous, if she admitted it to herself.
He was in there probably another fifteen minutes as she stared at the building next door, stunned. Had it really happened? She didn’t even know him! It was like some sort of spell had been cast on them. But that was taking the easy way out. It had been lust, pure and simple. She had barely been able to control herself since she’d first seen him. She wondered if he had been feeling the same, or if she had just been an easy way to pass the time. She slipped her eyes closed, leaning her head against the rest.
Okay, pull it together, Adeline. She did, at least not showing any emotion when he came out maybe ten minutes later.
“Ready?” he said, reaching to put his cup in and toss something into the back seat.
“Mm hmm,” she said, looking out the window.
They had been riding an hour before either of them spoke. She had felt him glance at her, but she pretended not to notice. Lord knew they didn’t need to be passing any more significant glances.
“I wanted to say that… Look, I know things went way out of bounds last night, crossing professional boundaries to say the least. If you want to leave—if you don’t feel comfortable—just say so. I understand completely.”
She moistened her lips, hesitating, before finally looking at him. There was a long pause. “I need the job,” she said finally. “And the crew does, too. I have obligations to you, and I intend to honor them.”
He met her eyes, and something entered his, something akin to respect. Well, thank heaven for that. “Yeah—okay.” He focused on the road again. “If you’re sure.”
She nodded once, looking back out the windshield, the lines as they passed. “Let’s just go back to the terms we were on before, and move forward like you said.”
Charleston, South Carolina
Chapter Twenty-Four
Adeline wasn’t sure if she was glad to see Ravenel-Thompson House, or if it loomed ahead of her like an ill omen. She still had, she thought, as they walked up the steps to the back door, the rest of Sunday to kill. And she wasn’t sure she should sit around and let her thoughts take over. And the thought of going out was unappealing. She basically needed to take a shower and change clothes. Then maybe she’d go do some restoration work on one of the door facings.
They walked down the hall and heard movement, and soon Jude was running out of the kitchen and away from Jane. He was in cute little Sunday clothes, bow tie and everything, and he said, “Daddy!” with elation.
She watched as he knelt to pick him up and said gently, “Hey, buddy. Have you been to church?”
He nodded. “Were you caught in a storm, Daddy?”
“I was, but I was safe,” he said. “Sorry I had to spend the night away.”
Adeline smiled and went to move up the stairs as Jude chatted to him about his night. She felt his eyes following her and thought he might actually be a little worried about her. Good—maybe he knew she wasn’t accustomed to such behavior, though what reason she’d given him to think that she didn’t know.
She showered, changed into some comfy clothes, and went downstairs to work. The quicker things got back to normal, the better.
They made great progress on the balconies over the next two weeks, with a specially hired crew helping out. Adeline couldn’t wait to get those beauties straight and secure and painted. If she accomplished nothing else, she could be proud of that.
The library fireplace was slower-go. Every inch of it needed careful treatment and restoration, and she had to do most of that herself. Meanwhile, it was questionable whether they would be able to save the silk wallpaper. It had glue, of course, staining it from the paper that had been over it. She was looking for the right product to treat it with but had been unsuccessful thus far. If it was her house, she might leave it, for history’s sake, but even she admitted it looked pretty rough. Still, it would probably break her heart to remove it, so she was holding out against all odds.
She saw Adrian rarely, which was good, she thought. She heard him when he got home, helping Jude with his homework or playing with him. He seemed to be doing a good job with him: he was a quiet kid, not disruptive, and he never touched anything she kindly asked him not to.
She stayed away from the kitchen when he was in there cooking, or when they were eating something Jane had made. He had to notice the difference, but she thought he probably appreciated it.
Other than that, her life was pretty normal, the days flying by. She had a comfortable coze with Jane when she stayed late one Thursday night while Adrian was at the university. Jude had fallen asleep against the older woman while watching a Disney movie on TV, and Jane, unusual for the close-lipped secretary, was in a chatty mood. She talked about her family, and life in Statesboro. She filled her in on the Ravenels, and she learned that Virginia Ravenel had been CEO of a group of hospitals in southeastern Georgia before she retired. No wonder she was so intimidating. Harris, Jane thought, was a good boy, but needed to settle down. The Ravenels were Catholic, which she’d already gathered from the name of Jude’s school. She told stories from her working days and confided that she and her husband had never been able to have children.
Adeline went to bed much in charity with her, despite the fact that she had gotten some tight-lipped looks from her in the past when she’d put her feet on the coffee table or failed to rinse a bowl out when she put it in the sink. In her experience, secretaries lived two lives: one real, warm, loving life, and another where they spent ninety percent of their time judging you. But Jane was a good one, deep down, she thought.
Adeline was in the kitchen making guacamole when she heard the guests start arriving on the night of the graduation. She could see a slight glimpse in the hall. Mrs. Ravenel was bending to kiss her grandson, who was sharply attired in a three-piece suit. He basked in attention from his grandparents for several minutes, and then she heard his father come down the stairs.
There were some words exchanged that she couldn’t hear. All she caught was, “No, they’re going to meet us there.” More muffled words. “Theresa made a reservation at Husk, and I didn’t argue.”
She caught a glimpse of Adrian, looking impossibly good in a pair of blue pants, a brown belt and shoes, and tan pullover over a light blue button down. He smoothed a hand over Jude’s hair, which had probably gotten messed up somehow on his long journey from bedroom to foyer.
Finally, the dad, carrying Jude, said, as though intermediating, “Well, let’s get him to school. The guest of honor can’t be late.”
And then they left—Jude’s family, and Jane—and the house was entirely quiet. The men had already gone home, and Adeline had everything to herself. It was funny how unwelcome that was. She was soon commanding herself not to even consider driving by Husk to see who Theresa was. She took a sip of her juice. Yeah, that would be totally stalkerish, and she wasn’t really the sunglasses and ballcap pulled low kind of gal.
She took a bite,
the chip crunching, the noise from the foyer still sounding in her ears. He led such a busy life, had such a comfortable place in the world and his family, that she would bet he had pretty easily put it out of his mind. He had honored her request to go back to the status quo, but she irrationally felt herself a little put out by that. When they met in the hall, they said a polite greeting and went about their business. When Adeline was lost in work, she never gave it a moment’s thought. But it would creep up on her at night, when she was lying in bed, or now, when she was feeling a little lonely. That was probably all that night had been about for both of them, at the end of the day. Just because she was happy in her singleness and job didn’t mean she didn’t have a desire for something else every now and then. And just because he had a comfortable life with friends and family didn’t mean that he wasn’t, at the end of the day, a single dad who worked too much and confined his social life to basically Jude.
Maybe, she thought, standing there, she needed a weekend at home. But then she remembered all of her obligations for the house and all the things she had scheduled, not to mention the drive time and lost hours, and she knew it was impossible for the near future. She’d settle for a phone call to her dad.
Husk had risen before them so peacefully, the house a white Southern beauty with gentle lights emanating from within, a live oak’s limbs bending into view, eerily evoking the Old South. It was one of the best places in Charleston, the food exceptional, the atmosphere calming. But Adrian was enjoying it not at all.
Lauren’s brother was drinking too much, and her mom was talking too loudly. Adrian’s mother sat there like a particularly prickly pine cone. About the only thing he was thankful for was that Lauren’s sister and her husband made rational conversation with his dad, who was holding Jude and every now and then remembering to make him eat his shrimp and grits. Jane talked with Theresa, making polite conversation.
He noticed that Lauren’s dad didn’t seem to be able to look at Jude. Adrian would like to help, but he doubted he would ever submit to therapy. And if that was hard for him, how grueling must it be to look at his other daughter, who actually looked like her sister. He had a feeling nobody found these get-togethers easy.
“I swear if she mentions The Yacht one more time…” his mother mumbled, picking up her phone to scroll through it. He wasn’t going to lie: he was sick of The Yacht, too. They were wanting to take Jude out on it in a couple of weeks. Nope.
“Harris said the jury is deliberating,” his mom whispered to him.
He turned his head toward her. “I bet he’s pacing.”
“I feel ill, and I’m not even there,” she said, looking pale.
He did, too, a little. “He’ll do great. He always does.”
“Both of my boys do—all of them,” she said, looking toward Jude. “He was the valedictorian, if only they would call it what it is in kindergarten.”
“There’s no doubt,” he said, lips twitching.
She looked at him, studying him for a long moment. The server brought their dessert, with something special for Jude. After a silence, while they listened to the conversation at the table, she again lost interest and looked back at him. “Honey, are you okay?” she asked softly.
His brows drew together. “Of course.”
She continued to make a close survey of him. “Jude is okay?”
“We’re fine, Mom,” he said. “What brought this on?”
“You seem distracted. I haven’t seen you like this in a long time.”
There was only the slightest hesitation. “I guess I have a lot going on.”
“Do you need help? You know I would be willing to come stay with you as long as you need.”
Seeing his peaceful life sliding away, he said, hopefully not too quickly, “Thanks. But we’re doing fine.” Or they would be once they got out of here.
Adeline finally took the next Saturday off. She had considered taking a walk on the Battery walkway, even though she wasn’t really the athletic type. But she had topped the stairs and seen Adrian below in shorts and a T-shirt. She assumed from the earbuds in his ears and shoes that he was going for a run. And running into him was really the last thing she wanted to do. It was hard enough not to think about his calves. All of that running paid off.
Sooo… She got in her car and drove toward the Ashley River. She wanted to tour one of the homes—maybe she would find something there that would lead her toward Santarella, which she had neglected over the past few weeks. If only she could hunt down a curator and get him to speak with her.
In the end, she chose Middleton Place, because she’d always wanted to see the grounds. And she seemed to remember some connection, maybe by marriage, between the two families. She hadn’t gotten very deep into the box, but she did remember the name popping up now and then.
It was weird to park between two trees, and the fee had left her standing there, holding her wallet, dumbfounded for about ten seconds before she remembered that she needed to respond. She did a quick analyzation in her head about how bad she wanted to see it and things, like food, that she could go without. She handed the woman her card, though not without a little bitterness.
The pamphlet was really helpful, though, and she had about thirty minutes to kill before her tour. So she walked the extensive, beautiful gardens and grounds before joining the other tourists on the benches outside one of the flankers (the original structure no longer stood).
The guide asked where everybody was from and then started telling the property’s story. There were two problems with the tour, one of which was that the guide looked like her dad’s contemporary yet still seemed to think he and she should be a thing. The other was that there was a British couple on the tour to whom he kept making embarrassing British references. Oh, and the guy in all black who kept creeping up behind her. But those were pretty much house tour staples, so she wasn’t really thrown off. She really enjoyed the tour and then went to the gift shop to ask if the curator was in. She really hoped it wasn’t that guide.
The lady at the desk said, “Oh, yes, he’s in his office. Let me see if he has a minute.” She slipped off down a small hall and returned with a slightly tubby man with a ruddy complexion and a friendly face.
“This is Adeline,” the lady said. “She’s one of your type, Joe.”
Joe laughed. “Come on back, Adeline. I hope I can help.”
“Thank so much,” she said, following him into his little office. They made small talk, and she explained what she was doing. Before they got into real conversation, she learned that he had a wife, two kids, and that they had recently acquired a puppy. When finally she was able to bring it around, she said, “You see, I’m looking for a plantation called Santarella. Have you ever heard of it? We think it’s in the sea islands.”
“Yes, I’ve come across it,” he said. “In family letters. Would this have been John Ravenel’s family you’re researching—the John Ravenel who built your employer’s house?”
“Yes!” she said, excited.
“Like I said, the Middleton family often mentions Santarella. I believe they even visited.” He closed his eyes and pressed his temples for a minute. “Don’t hold me to this, but I think that’s the one that I always got the impression was a little difficult to get to. Within a day’s travel, but probably not an easy day.”
She nodded. “So maybe not one of the sea islands right here in Charleston.”
“Maybe not,” he agreed. “And don’t get discouraged and think it’s not there. It could be, you know—there are lots of old houses buried on those islands. I’ll be happy to look into it, and contact you if I find anything,” he said.
“I would really appreciate it,” she said, opening her purse to give him her card. It never hurt to give a person in his position a card anyway.
He did the finger-temple thing again. “I’m trying to think… There was a daughter of the hou
se—our house, I mean, during the Civil War Era, who would have been in her late teens, or early twenties. I think she was friends with John Ravenel’s daughter.”
She studied his face closely, feeling that she was onto something here. “Do you… Is there any chance you remember her name? The Ravenel girl.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Shannon,” he produced. “I believe it was Shannon.”
Adeline stared at him. Shannon. Yes, she was familiar with Shannon. Only her last name hadn’t been Ravenel.
Massachusetts, May 1860
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Haley ladies noticed Shannon was quiet at dinner the next night and, while Miriam assumed, romantically, that she was mourning the first separation from her beloved, Mrs. Haley thought something was weighing on her spirit. She studied her, but said nothing as Vincent and Sarah, enjoying the small dinner party which allowed them more time talking, asked if they might go to the theater once they returned from Boston.
“Vincent will board with the Whitcombs, and you shall continue your lessons, Sarah,” Mrs. Haley answered, taking a sip of her soup.
“Yes, but Vincent will visit us sometimes, and perhaps Shannon and John Thomas will, too!” Sarah said.
Shannon smiled.
“I hope you are not feeling unwell, Shannon,” Lizzie said.
“I do feel a little unwell,” she answered quietly. “It began to come upon me this morning. Forgive me, I ought not to be sitting with you, I suppose.”
Lizzie covered her hand, concern in her eyes. “Oh, and with John Thomas just gone away. Do you have a sore throat? Priscilla Lamb was telling me that little Amelia was unwell, and they did sit behind our pew.”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“I am sure it is only a trifling cold,” Mrs. Haley said with a comforting lack of concern. “Shannon, my dear, it would perhaps be best if you lie down. We will send Phoebe up with a tray.”