Chapter Seventeen
The hatchlings stay below the sand’s surface until it cools, usually indicating night. They emerge in a rush, tumbling over one another in a sprint past predators such as raccoons, crabs, and birds. Those that make it to the sea now begin a treacherous journey to the Gulf Stream where floating Sargassum provides protection and food. It’s survival of the fittest.
TONIGHT WAS HER first real date in three years. Cara had soaked in the hot, scented tub till her skin was pink. It was luxuriously decadent and calmed her nerves. She couldn’t believe she was as nervous as a teenager.
That in itself was rather a shock. She didn’t think she’d ever felt like this, the way the songs lyrics described: dreaming of him, counting the hours till she saw him again. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t fallen in love at an early age. She was forty when she fell in love for the first time with Brett. It wasn’t a gush of feeling, but rather a sense of knowing.
She lifted the loofah and let a stream of hot water trail across her breasts, lost in thought. Was this the different kind of love David had talked about? Brett had raised the bar very high, but with David, it was a different bar. She did feel a gush of romantic feeling with him, and it both delighted and disturbed her. She knew this feeling of awkwardness at dating again, feeling love again, would persist for a long time. How could it not? She had to cope with loving two men at the same time. But one was no longer a part of her life. The other was asking to be.
And both her mind and her body were telling her she was ready to try.
Cara took extra time applying her makeup, aware of the glimmer of excitement in her eyes. She’d been extravagant and purchased new undergarments, very good, elegantly sexy as only the French could design. Luxurious underwear gave her a private confidence, even if no one ever saw it but herself. She pulled the sleek white silk sheath dress out of the closet and over her head. The dress slid down her body like water. Her skin was so tan from her walks on the beach that the contrast was stunning. Finally, she selected a strand of sizable pearls for her neck and more for her ears. She looked in the mirror. A woman knew when she was looking her best. Cara smiled with satisfaction, then reached for her scent. It was new. Chosen for a new man.
When the doorbell rang, she felt a shiver of anticipation. She stepped into her heels and hurried to the door.
“You look stunning!” Linnea said with a gasp.
Cara turned to see her standing near the foyer, Hope in her arms, waiting. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore baby-doll pajamas and fuzzy slippers, a look straight from the sixties.
“Thank you. As do you.”
Linnea laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m going to duck. Have a good time.”
“Mama!” Hope called, reaching for her.
“Night-night, baby,” Cara said, hurrying to kiss her once more.
Predictably, Hope began to cry as the doorbell rang a second time.
“Go on, we’ll be fine,” Linnea said, then hurried down the hall with the fussing baby.
Cara took a final breath, then opened the door to see David standing under the light in a crisp, beautifully cut tan suit and a pale-blue shirt with a gorgeous tie. She felt a sweep of happiness seeing him at her door again and realized she was feeling what they wrote about in songs after all. She’d missed him. In one hand he carried a bouquet of local summer flowers, her favorite. Cara opened the door wider, aware that though she’d opened this door for him many times this summer, tonight’s welcome felt decidedly different from the playdates.
“Come in.”
“You only have time to put these in water, I’m afraid. Our reservations are for seven and I heard there’s traffic on the bridge.”
“All right. Come in for just a minute, then.”
She walked across the living room, dimly lit by two lamps, toward the kitchen. Moutarde was silent in his cage. She reached up to grab the vase from a high shelf, but David was quick, his long arm grasping it and handing it to her.
Their eyes met and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her.
Footsteps caught her attention and she turned to see Linnea hurrying in, arm outstretched.
“I’ll take those,” Linnea told her, and took the bouquet. “Ooh, pretty.”
Cara held back a smile. “Hope’s asleep already?”
Linnea put the flowers in the vase. “Out like a light.” She stopped in front of David. “Hi and good-bye, David. I just came in for a glass of water.” She poured herself a glass of water and with a final wave scooted from the room.
David’s brows rose with humor at Linnea’s pajamas. “Déjà vu.”
“Quite. Well,” Cara said, “I guess we can go.”
CHARLESTON BOASTED MANY exquisite restaurants, and this small enclave was one of her best-kept secrets. They were seated in an exquisite walled garden filled with flowers in bloom. Small garden tables draped with thick white damask dotted the patio, each with candles that flickered in the dusk. Edith Piaf sang in the background.
David consulted the wine list with the sommelier. She let her gaze float about the garden. Other couples, young and old, filled the tables, enjoying a haute cuisine meal on a soft summer night. Inside the house, candles glimmered and more couples dined. She smiled to herself, realizing that David had selected a romantic, quiet restaurant rather than a showy one. Her attention shifted to the man across the table.
David had become so much more than the friendly, good-looking man who’d delivered Heather to the beach house a few years back. He’d become an important part of her and Hope’s lives. Cara was a woman who enjoyed handsome men and had dated many in her life, discarding them without a second thought. Only Brett had risen above the pack to claim her heart. She sensed that David could—if she would let him—claim it as well.
He handed the wine list to the waiter and, eyes gleaming in the candlelight, focused his attention on her. “I think you’re going to like what I selected. I had a little fun with wine pairing. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”
“In that case, I’d best pace myself.”
“Why? I’m driving.”
“I’m a terrible drunk. I get all weepy.”
“You? I can’t imagine you weepy. In that case, I hope you do get a bit tipsy so I can witness the other side of the usually implacable Cara Rutledge.”
“Implacable? Me? My dear boy, you have a lot to learn about me.”
David grinned. “I look forward to it.”
The waiter arrived at the perfect moment.
“Champagne,” Cara exclaimed, pleased. “I love good bubbly. What’s the occasion?”
“Isn’t being together enough of an occasion?”
She gazed at him over the glass as she took a sip. “Tell me about London,” Cara said, moving the conversation in a new direction. “It’s been ages since I’ve been. How is the queen?” she asked jokingly.
“In residence. The Union Jack was flying.”
“What was the urgent business?”
“Oh, you don’t want to talk about my business.”
“Actually, I do. You may not believe this, but there are women who have a good mind for business. I happen to be one of them.”
He appeared chagrined. “I didn’t want to start expounding. Once I do, it’s hard to stop me. I’m much more interested in you.”
“I appreciate that. However, I’m interested in you, too. I want you to tell me everything. Every last detail.”
Gradually, haltingly, David opened up about his business venture. As he began to expand on what his work in London entailed, she became aware for the first time of how involved he was with his company. She’d fallen into the mistaken impression that David was retired, dabbling in stocks and enjoying time with his grandson. Tonight she listened, spellbound, as he spoke with confidence and authority.
“The phenomenon of unmanned aerial vehicles is pretty exciting. We’ve taken the stuff of sci-fi movies and books and turned it into reality.”
“You’re in drones?” she asked, stunned.
“Yes. Or rather, my company makes the small cameras that are attached to drones. Drones are not only for hobbyists and tech-savvy enthusiasts anymore. Businesses and decision makers worldwide are seriously interested. The technological developments and advancements in the field of smart electronics are breathtaking.”
“But, you’re a lawyer. How did you get involved?”
“I’ve always loved electronics as a hobby. And I flew . . . still do on occasion. This seemed a natural fit. I invested in this small startup years ago. We went public in 2016, and since then”—he spread out his palms—“the growth has been exponential. And it’s still expected to skyrocket. The more involved I got, the more interested I became. So much so that I retired from my law practice to focus on the company.”
She sat back, astonished at how little she really knew about this man. As he went on to explain details of his cameras, she realized the scope of his intelligence, and more, his influence. He transformed from a friendly retired lawyer into a successful international businessman right before her eyes.
“That reminds me,” he said, reaching down beside his chair to grab a bag she’d been curious about since she’d seen him carry it into the restaurant. “I have something for you. A little souvenir from London.”
“You shouldn’t have,” she said politely, envisioning a tin of tea or a box of sweets emblazoned with images of Big Ben. She took the large bag from him, noting that it came from Harrods, and spread open the tissue paper.
“It’s a Burberry bag!” she exclaimed, stunned.
“Do you like it?”
“Of course. It’s beautiful.”
He appeared pleased with her response. “I remembered you broke the handle of your tote bag at the park and thought this one could replace it.”
Cara looked at him, moved that he’d think of such a thoughtful gesture. “But, David, that was a little nothing bag I bought at Target. This is a Burberry tote.” She exhaled slowly. “I can’t accept this.”
“Of course you can. You love it.”
“No, I can’t. You already do so much for me. You pick up my tab when we’re out, buy our tickets, drive us everywhere. That’s already a lot. But this . . .” She shook her head. “This is too much. I really can’t accept it.”
Cara gave one last loving look at the gorgeous Burberry tote and slid it back into the paper bag. She was about to reach for her glass, but David was faster, putting his hand over hers on the table.
“Cara, please accept the bag. I don’t mean to sound crass, but it’s really not that expensive for me. And the fact that you like it so much makes it worth every penny.” His gaze was penetrating. “Let me give you gifts or do little things for you. And can I say, it’s insulting to a man not to let him pick up your tab when we’re out together.”
“But a tab for ice cream is not this year’s hottest Burberry bag.”
“What’s the fun of having money if you can’t spend it on people you care about?” He looked down at their hands, then back at her. “I hope you know I care about you.”
She studied his dark eyes, illuminated by the flickering candle, and heard his words again in her mind.
David continued, his expression vulnerable, “I hope, too, that I’ve come to mean something to you.”
She was surprised by the strength of the emotions welling up inside her. She looked down at their joined hands. “You mean a great deal to me,” she told him. “More than I thought I’d feel again.” She turned her palm up and wrapped her long fingers around his wrist. “Thank you for the beautiful bag. And . . .” She raised her eyes to his. “Thank you for bringing me back to life again.”
She’d asked for a sign to make it clear she was ready to let go of her grief and find love again. To be loved again.
She’d never thought it would come in the form of a Burberry bag.
LINNEA HEARD THE front door open, the click of high heels on the wood, and the plunk of a purse on the foyer table. She smiled, hearing Cara hum as she walked into the living room.
“You’re glowing,” Linnea said. “And it’s not from the sun.”
Cara startled at seeing Linnea cozy on the sofa. Sade sang on the speakers, and on the cocktail table were two wineglasses and a bottle of red.
“Am I?” Cara asked, putting her long fingers to her cheek. “It’s probably the alcohol. Lord, I’m tipsy.”
“Uh-uh, that ain’t it,” Linnea said, then patted the sofa. “Join me? I have a nice bottle of Malbec.”
“Oh, no, I’ve had too much wine already. David ordered a wine pairing and it was heaven. But no more wine for me.”
“Glass of water then?” Linnea asked, rising from the sofa, her tan legs showing under the baby-doll pajamas.
“Perfect. Thank you.” Cara slipped out of her heels, pulled the pins from her hair, and ran her fingers through her mop of hair, giving her head a good scratching.
Linnea returned with a tall glass of water, glad to see Cara relaxing. The ice chinked in the glass as the two women sat on the sofa, each with her chosen drink in hand, and settled in the pillows.
“So, you had a nice dinner?” Linnea asked, raising her eyebrows.
“It was more than nice,” Cara said. “I feel like I’m still floating. It was . . .” She looked up as though searching for the right word. “Transformative.”
“That’s a pretty powerful word.”
Cara sighed. “I know.”
Linnea leaned forward. “Well, c’mon, what makes an evening transformative?”
“I don’t know if I can explain it.”
“Try.”
“Well . . .” Cara began. “The setting was perfect. Candlelight, heavy white linen, the scent of flowers, fabulous wine, and delicious food.”
“Enter handsome man, beautiful woman. Sounds like a Hallmark movie.”
“It was,” Cara said with a slight shrug. “We talked about anything and everything. We have this comfort between us, a lack of inhibition that allows us to tell each other things that we might choose not to tell anyone else. The kind that comes from trust.”
Linnea thought of John and felt another notch of surety about him. “I know that feeling.”
“David is an extraordinary man. I’ve never met anyone quite like him. He’s just returned from London on business and brought me a sweet souvenir,” she added with a smile. “I’ll show you later. Anyway, while I listened to him talk about his business and how much he loves what he does, it was so strange—it was as if a different person was sitting across the table from me. Someone formidable. Someone I was suddenly very interested to know more about.”
“I know what you mean!” Linnea said, sitting upright. “The same thing happened to me. With John. We were having drinks and he was talking about his new project and I realized he wasn’t just some laid-off surfer dude. He has real depth . . . and I found that attractive.” She smiled seductively. “Very, very attractive.”
Cara laughed lightly. “I’ve always found intelligence to be an aphrodisiac.”
“Oh yeah? Is it a coincidence, then, that both the men you fell for were tall and handsome?”
“Strictly a coincidence.”
“Or luck.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it.” Cara laughed. “Truly. I like to think it’s fate.”
“Or good karma.”
Cara tilted her head. “I like that better. God knows I’ve paid my dues.”
Linnea watched Cara closely. So elegant and strong, yet behind the façade she presented, Linnea had seen her broken, too. Brett’s death had done that. Frozen her heart for three years. She was happy and relieved to see the thaw.
“So, you’re ready for love after love?”
Cara’s face grew thoughtful. “It’s very strange to go from tears for Brett to smiles for David. I’ve had to accept that my divided heart is normal. Intellectually it all makes sense, of course. But emotionally . . .” Cara shook her head. “It’s very hard. Nothing makes much sense in the heart. I have to go with how I feel. My instincts have always been pretty good, and over the years I’ve learned to listen to them. If I don’t, I make errors and fall into regret.”
“So what does your gut tell you?”
“Not to be afraid,” Cara replied. “I’ve found someone who loves me, scarred heart and all. The love I have for David is different than the love I had for Brett. But I’m different, too. So, yes, I believe I am ready.”
“Oh, Cara, I’m so very, very happy to hear that.”
“Me too,” she replied. “And you? Are you ready? I can’t help but turn the tables and tell you I’ve watched you and John together. You seem to be a good fit.”
Linnea paused, feeling again the confusion that overtook her whenever she thought about her relationship with John.
“You might be ready for love, but I’m not. Not the happily-ever-after kind. I’m only twenty-two. I don’t even have a real job yet. I haven’t tested myself yet. Aunt Cara, I want to get married and have children someday. But one thing I learned this summer. As much as I adore Hope—and you know I do,” she asserted.
Cara smiled. “I know.”
“Being a nanny this summer showed me I’m not ready to settle down and be a mother yet. I’ve got things I want to do. Places I want to go. I don’t even want to get tied down to a serious relationship.”
“Then don’t.”
“You make that sound so easy.”
“I didn’t say it would be. I’m saying you have the choice. Linnea, you’re only young once. Take it from me, life speeds by, and if you don’t enjoy your freedom while you have it . . . Too soon you may make a commitment, have children, have a house and debt, all of which is wonderful on its own merit. But be ready for it. Go into it wholeheartedly. Then you’ll never live your life wondering about what could have been.” Cara leaned far over to take hold of the bottle of wine and poured herself a glass. “I’m talking too much.”
“No, you’re not,” Linnea said. “Please go on. You’re like a second mother to me. I’ve always admired you. How you up and left at eighteen and never looked back. I mean, you were only eighteen!”
Cara settled back on the sofa and brought her long, slim legs up to stretch out beside Linnea. It was an intimate move, one a mother might make with her daughter.
“Linnea,” Cara began, “don’t glamorize what was a sad situation.”
“I know—but be honest. It took courage.”
“I had to make a choice. My father drew his line in the sand, and I crossed it. Let’s just say he made it impossible for me to stay.”
“But you left Charleston,” Linnea persisted. “Went all the way to Chicago. Did you have money?”
“I had my savings. It wasn’t much. But it bought me a train ticket. I knew a girl from school who went to Northwestern, right outside of Chicago. It was one of the universities I’d applied to.” She snorted. “And gotten in.” She brushed a bit of lint from her dress. “I remember being so jealous that she could go to college and have an apartment, all paid for by supportive parents. While I . . .” She set her glass on the table and said without self-pity, “I looked for a job. I always loved school, you know. Learning. I still love walking through libraries and bookstores, just to let my fingers run along the spines of books.”
“And you got a job.”
“I did. There are more ways to learn than in school. ‘Experience is the best of schoolmasters.’ I think Thomas Carlyle said that. It’s true. I figured if I couldn’t go to school to learn, I’d get a job in the area I wanted to learn. I started as a receptionist in an advertising agency, but I always asked questions about the job and worked late. People noticed. I learned so much on the job, but I also went to night school, got my degree, and earned several promotions along the way. All in all, I did quite well for myself. And there’s no small degree of satisfaction in knowing that I did it all on my own.” She sighed and placed her palms on her thighs. “Then I got laid off. I came running home and my life changed in ways I never anticipated. Or wanted. I never expected to fall in love.” She lifted her shoulders and took a sip of the wine. “The rest you know.”
Linnea admired Cara’s resilience. And more, her independence. She’d thumbed her nose at her father and taken off for Chicago. She was a role model. Someone Linnea could always count on to be honest.
“I want an adventure like that.”
“Hardly an adventure.”
“Well, to test myself, then. Sometimes I lie on my back and think, where would I go if I could go anywhere?” She laughed self-consciously. “Of course, at first I come up with ideas of Paris or San Francisco . . .” She paused, thinking of John.
Cara caught the reference and arched a brow. “San Francisco?”
Linnea nodded. “There’s a job possibility there.”
“Really? That’s exciting. Hallelujah!”
“I don’t know. There’s a lot to consider.”
“Like what? Frankly, my dear, you don’t have a lot of other offers.”
“But what will Daddy say? And . . . it’s not a good time to leave home.”
Cara paused, looking at her askance. “Excuse me. But didn’t you just tell me you admired me for leaving home at eighteen? You’re twenty-two. What are you afraid of? Certainly not my brother . . .”
Linnea shook her head. “Aunt Cara, I haven’t been completely open with you.”
Her gaze sharpened. “About what?”
“About Daddy. Cooper. Mama.” She closed her eyes to collect herself. “They’re all one hot mess. I’m afraid for them.”
Cara sat up and set her glass on the table. Linnea felt a new tension in the room as Cara set her razor-sharp focus on her.
“I know your father’s been drinking more than usual.”
Linnea snorted derisively. “A lot more. Every night he gets drunk. Cooper said living at home was hell.”
Cara swallowed hard and her brows knitted. “I see. And Cooper?”
“He’s the one I’m most worried about. He was supposed to come here last weekend. He promised.” She shrugged. “But he didn’t. He’s dodging me. He’s drinking too. I think . . . no, I feel sure he’s doing drugs.”
Cara inhaled sharply. She thought for a moment, then asked, “What kind of drugs? Marijuana?”
“I don’t know, but it’s more than pot. I tried to talk to him about it, but he denies it. He’s so unhappy, Cara. He feels trapped, and I think drugs help him escape.”
“What’s he feeling trapped about?”
“Everything. He doesn’t want to go to the Citadel. That’s a biggie. Mostly he doesn’t want to disappoint Daddy. Which means he’ll be trapped in the family business.” She laughed harshly. “He might not have to worry about that.”
“What’s that?” Cara’s voice was sharp.
“According to my mother, they’re on the verge of bankruptcy.”
Cara’s face registered shock. “Good God!” she exclaimed. “The family’s gone to hell in a handbasket, and I’m only just hearing about it?”
“The Rutledges are very good at covering up.”
“No,” Cara snapped. “We’re very good at lying. There’s a difference.” She rose and began pacing the room, her fingers tapping her crossed arms. She stopped before Linnea, her dark eyes flashing.
“First, I have to tell you I’m hurt you didn’t come to me with this sooner. I thought we had a stronger relationship.”
Linnea felt crushed by the criticism. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll go see my brother. Try to talk some sense into him.” She stopped and exhaled. “But you know him. He holds his feelings in like Fort Knox. And with good reason. In all fairness, when I left home all those years ago, I left him to deal with the mess at home. You may think that I’m the brave one, but I say it was your father. He held the family together and dealt with our father. He’s the one you should admire. Palmer is not a bad man, Linnea. I fear if what you say is true, he’s simply lost.”
Linnea had never heard her aunt speak like this before. And she’d never thought of her father in this light.
Cara came to stand in front of Linnea. “Regardless of what Palmer does or says, regardless of what happens with your brother, Linnea, you have to make your own decisions for your own life. You’re not a child any longer. Nor are you your brother’s keeper.”
“But you just called my father a hero for staying.”
“I did. But Cooper is not alone. He has his good parents. And he has me. Let us be there for him.” She reached out to place her hand on Linnea’s shoulder. “My darling girl, I love you too much to allow you to throw your life away. I’m not saying go to San Francisco. I’m saying don’t feel compelled to stay here. Do you understand?”
Linnea nodded. “What if that means going with John?”
Cara took in a breath and straightened, lifting her hand. She asked urbanely, “As a lover? A friend? A traveling companion?”
“All of the above.”
“Not as a husband.”
“No.”
Linnea knew that Cara understood the ramifications of that decision with regard to her father, her mother, her reputation.
“Then I’d say be very careful. Not only of your own feelings, but of his.”