Mac Taylor, who seemed to be Charlotte’s own personal superhero, laid a hand on her shoulder as she turned to face the waiting party goers. Extending her lips into a wide mouthed smile, she engaged what Cade could only describe as a giggle. “Well, you never know what you’ll experience at a Savvy Boudreaux fête.”
Her gaggle of relatives chuckled and turned back to their various conversations, all of which Cade was sure were now focused squarely on the reintroduction of Stasi to their quiet circle.
Shoving against the door, Charlotte caught Cade’s gaze. He wondered if she could read his mind and the litany of questions popping into his brain. Her smile wavered and her shoulders dropped, as she started to close the gap between them, but Taylor stopped her and whispered into her ear.
“What do you think his lawyerly advice to her is?” Dylan asked.
“Plead the Fifth?”
The newly minted dynamic duo wove the short distance to Cade and Dylan. Cade couldn’t help noticing the comforting arm Taylor laid over Charlotte’s shoulders. Her cheeks blushed two shades deeper than normal cosmetics and Cade would have been blind not to notice the tilt of a smile on the stoic Charlotte Dixon’s lips. What was really going on between those two?
As was becoming her annoying habit, Charlotte extended her hand to O’Neal, effectively ignoring Cade’s existence. “I’m so glad you were able to attend Savvy’s party. I had no idea she invited you, but I’m thrilled she had her charming wits about her in the hospital to extend the invitation.”
O’Neal’s eyes twinkled as Charlotte’s hand slid into his. “Miss Dixon, this party is beyond my wildest expectations.”
Man, could Dylan lay it on thick.
“Yes, well, Savvy does know how to throw an exceptional event. Even if it’s on the heels of her Christmas blow-out.”
“Well, we appreciate the invitation. Don’t we, Murph?”
Enough of this dance…“That was your mother.”
Charlotte blinked twice and she gave a little cough. “Yes, that was Mama. How did you know?”
“She’s kind of hard not to hear.” Come on, Charlotte, give me something. Prove to me you aren’t a lying, cheating, snake like your mother.
“Well, Stasi’s never been accused of being subtle.”
“Why didn’t she stay?”
“I’m not sure that is relevant to you, Special Agent Murphy.”
Mac placed his hand on her shoulder. “I think Special Agent Murphy is interested that your mother came to check up on you. Is that correct?” He nodded his head toward Cade.
Charlotte shifted her gaze between Cade and Taylor. Cade had to stifle a chuckle at her almost awed expression as she had to look up at both men. He couldn’t imagine the towering beauty had looked up at many people in her life. Cade widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. Let her worry a little more. If his size intimidated her, so be it.
“Well, I was surprised she came down to check on my wellbeing. My mother is not traditionally concerned with such things. And she did swear a few decades ago to never again travel south of the Mason-Dixon Line, so you can imagine my surprise by her visit. But, as any daughter would be, I am thankful to have my mother’s concern.”
“Certainly,” O’Neal interjected. “I think Murph and I were just shocked to see your mother, considering all of the excitement encompassing New York at this time of the year.”
“As I said, your surprise is equal to mine, Special Agent O’Neal.” Charlotte smiled. “But if you don’t mind, I’d rather focus on this amazing party and celebrating the incoming year.” She glanced at the clock on the mantel in the main parlor. “We only have a few minutes remaining of this year, and I will be grateful to leave it in the past. May I get either of you a beverage so you can toast the new fortunes of the coming year?”
“Well, what do we have here?” Remy Reynard seemed to appear out of thin air.
The forensic accountant whose involvement in the audit of the art gallery was the catapult to Cavanaugh allowing Cade’s and Dylan’s temporary assignment to Charleston, was dressed too formally in a classic tuxedo for the low country cocktail party gathering. He kissed Charlotte’s cheek, tugging her to his side in a casual embrace. “Are y’all trying to exacerbate my poor dear’s throbbing head with more questions she can’t possibly answer?”
“Mr. Reynard, I didn’t expect to see you this evening. I thought you were engaged at a fundraiser in Charleston,” Cade said.
“Well, aren’t you a clever Yankee? I was a co-host at a little fête at an inn on Battery. Charleston society does feel the need to make every social occasion have significance.” He winked at Charlotte. “But, I would be remiss if I allowed this New Year to roll in without celebrating the long awaited return of my dearest friend. I’ve wished for this day since she abandoned me for the debauchery and delights of the North.”
Mac shuffled back from the group, tugging at his collar as he left without a word.
Charlotte’s gaze followed the attorney until Taylor disappeared from the room. Their budding romance could either be the crack Cade was looking for or Taylor could become a thicker wall than one Charlotte Dixon had already erected around herself.
Turning back toward the group, a smile stretched across Charlotte’s lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Gentlemen, my aunt will be mortified, we are only fifteen minutes from midnight and you are drink-less. I will be right back.”
“I’ll help you,” Cade said. He could play Dylan’s game. He wasn’t as good at it, but Cade was known to have a little charm under his tough exterior.
Cade followed her as she wove through dozens of relatives all asking about her mother’s arrival, “bless her heart”. With each inquiry, she bobbed her head, but kept moving, forcing Cade to nearly run to keep up with her pace. At the back bar, she ordered for all three men and included a club soda with a lime for herself. His research was correct. Charlotte Dixon didn’t drink, because if she did the stress of the last few days, and especially the last hour, would have caused even the most stalwart teetotaler to contemplate a drink or two.
“You shame me and my training at Quantico. Can you run a mile in those stilettoes?” he asked.
She flipped her chin toward him. “Don’t you already know? You seem to know everything else.”
“Fair enough.”
Sighing she twisted and leaned her elbows on the bar. “Why are you here, Agent Murphy?”
“It’s Special Agent Murphy, and your aunt invited me.”
“No, why are you in Colin’s Fancy? Why are you in South Carolina?”
What could he say to her without revealing that she was one of the prime suspects in his case against the bratva? “Your gallery came up in the line of an active investigation. Special Agent O’Neal and I are following a lead.”
She locked her gaze with his. Her clear blue eyes held more questions than he could decipher. Was she really her mother’s daughter or was she simply an unwitting pawn in a game her mother had been playing for decades? Would he be able to earn her trust? What would it take to crack the ice of Charlotte Dixon?
The bartender tapped her shoulder forcing Charlotte to break her stare. Clutching two of the drinks in her hands she nodded toward the remaining glasses and Cade obliged, lifting his and Dylan’s drinks.
“Well, I hope you’ve discovered my little gallery doesn’t have anything to hide,” she said as they walked back to Remy and O’Neal.
“And, how do you explain your car exploding?”
Shrugging, she winked. “Unhappy accident?”
Unhappy accident? Was she insane or just a good actress? “Miss Dixon, most people wouldn’t refer to totaling a sixty-thousand dollar car with such nonchalance.”
“Well, I guess I have more important things to worry about. The last few months have put the little stresses of life in perspective.”
“Again, I wouldn’t refer to bombs at the office as a little stress.”
“Nor would I. I am thankf
ul that no one was seriously hurt.” They slowed their pace as they approached the waiting men. “But, I am certain that the explosion is nothing more than a fan displaying his distaste for some recent trades.”
“Seems a bit of an extreme explanation, don’t you think?”
Remy chuckled as he took his drink from Charlotte. “Oh, my dear Special Agent Murphy, nothing about sports in the south is considered extreme. You should see this place during football season. Charlotte, I almost forgot. Savvy stopped me as I made my way in and asked me to have you check on the final celebratory moments for the midnight extravaganza.” Remy glanced at his watch. “You better skedaddle or Savannah Boudreaux will have my hide. And it is such a nice hide I would like to keep it through the New Year and beyond.”
17
Charlotte shoved open the French doors leading to the side porch off the kitchen. Sucking in the cool damp air, she mentally logged another tick in the debt column of her friendship with Remy. He always seemed to know when she needed a reprieve. And like her own guardian angel, he always found the means to make her need a reality. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she heard the countdown to midnight begin.
Ten…
Her thoughts went to her father. Oh, Daddy, what you must think of me? I’m so grateful you didn’t have to see me like this.
Seven…
Are you with Delia again? Is your God real? If He is could He help me? I don’t know what to do.
Four…
Can He send someone to save me from this mess of a life?
Shivers followed the soft touch of a broad hand on her bare shoulder. She turned and stared into the inviting gaze of Mac Taylor. Without a thought, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, reveling in the warmth his body exuded.
He reached between them and tilted her chin up with a finger. “Happy New Year,” he whispered. His lips barely grazed hers, but the touch ignited her like every firework exploding on the Eastern seaboard.
He broke the connection, but gently caressed her cheek, brushing off a tear she was unaware she’d shed until she tasted the salty remnant on her lips. Her vision locked with his, and the tender gaze acted like a knife cutting the slender connection between them.
She stepped from his embrace, placing breathing distance between them.
What just happened? Was he an answer to the prayer she’d prayed? Had her absent father heard her from beyond the grave? Was his God that quick to respond? “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
His eyebrows knitted together. “Why are you sorry, Charlie?”
She clenched her jaw. “It’s Charlotte.”
“OK, Charlotte. Why are you sorry?”
She turned her back to him and stared into the foggy, blackness of midnight. “I shouldn’t have hugged you. I…” She couldn’t find the words she wanted to say without revealing the confusion in her weary heart.
“You’ve had a tough couple of days. It’s the holidays. No need to explain.”
She squeezed her eyes closed against the uncontrollable tears burning to be set free. The warmth of his breath slid over her, fighting against the chill of the mid-winter night.
Feeling him move behind her on the centuries-old porch boards, she wrapped her arms tighter across her middle. She wasn’t sure if she was conserving heat or trying to avoid reaching out to grab him to her.
“Charlotte, we didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know,” she said, focusing her gaze into the distance, no longer black with night, but hazy with an orange glow. Panic shot through her. “Mac, do you see that?” She pointed in the direction of the guest house.
“Yes…is it what I think it is?”
“If you think it’s a fire in the guest house, then yes, it’s exactly what you think it is. Call 911.” With no thought but saving her home, she raced down the side steps, ignoring his shouts chasing her.
Orange and yellow flames dashed up the large pine trees marching on either side of the guest house. Charlotte guessed her new home was only minutes from being engulfed.
Running to the decrepit shed, she sought the small garden hose she remembered hung on the side. She aimed the spray toward the fire and began to pray again, a habit she unwillingly was acquiring.
“Charlie!”
Shouts rang above the crack of the fire. The growing rumble of feet racing from the main house reverberated under her, but she wasn’t deterred from trying to save her home. In the moment of terror, she couldn’t lie to herself. It was her home. She needed to protect the only place to hold that precious title since she was five years old.
The trees were too quickly being devoured. They wouldn’t be able to keep the fire from spreading throughout the entire grounds. In desperation, she aimed the hose toward the house, but she was fighting a losing battle. How long would it take to get a fire truck and crew here? How could this have happened?
“Charlie!”
She turned at the sound of Georgie’s shout. A dozen partygoers lumbered through the yard weighed down with buckets behind her sister.
Tears scorched Georgie’s cheeks as she ran to Charlotte’s side. “Oh, Charlie! You can’t stay here. You could be hurt.”
Charlotte shook her head and focused her attention back to the building, catching a glimpse of a water brigade passing buckets up the line to douse the pine trees. Dozens of relatives, whose names she really needed to learn, stood stalwart as they passed bucket after bucket. The line of family must have stretched the mile back to the main house out of view.
The wet sting of tears streaked down Charlotte’s cheeks.
Savvy shouted in the distance ordering the family into straighter, tighter lines. “This won’t do, folks. Remember how we lost the carriage house in ’85 because we couldn’t get a decent relay of water. I won’t be responsible for the same folly.”
A chuckle quelled Charlotte’s sentimental tears. Her aunt, still perfectly coiffed, ordered the family like a five-star general.
She jumped at calloused fingers wrapping around her shoulder. Shocked by the touch of Mac’s hand, she quickly relaxed at the gentle expression of concern stretching across his face.
“Let me try for a little while.” He reached for the hose and continued the steady stream.
Watching his determined stance as he confidently showered the house with her tiny garden hose, she wanted to lean into him. She didn’t care that the thought was insane and the idea of being close to him made him a potential target. She just knew she needed some of his endless supply of comfort and strength.
The echo of sirens in the distance shot a zip of relief through her and drove a unified cheer from the fire-fighting party-goers.
Within moments, two fire trucks and an ambulance whipped into the driveway, spewing gravel. The firefighters moved with efficiency and grace as they quickly squashed the remaining flames.
The trees were charcoal, but the house was saved. Her home was still her home despite the smoke and fire damage she guessed waited through the front door. Lifting her gaze toward the smoke-filled night sky, she offered a silent “thank you” to the God Georgie kept sharing. Maybe He was answering her prayers? Charlotte enfolded her sister in the tightest hug of her adult life. They both cried, as Charlotte gave in to the fear and panic that, a moment earlier, had threatened to swallow her with the fire.
“You saved the house,” Georgie whispered.
Charlotte shook her head. Why had she suddenly cared so much about old lumber and walls?
~*~
Georgie held tight to Charlotte. “You’re a hero.”
Her sister stepped out of her embrace. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Don’t shrug this off, Charlie. You saved the house.”
Charlotte shook her head.
“Yes, you did,” Georgie said, forcing her sister to make eye contact. “Most people wouldn’t run toward danger. But you did. All to save our home.”
Charlotte’s icy gaze could have frozen the fire with significantly le
ss effort than the family’s brigade moments earlier. She turned her back to Georgie, focusing on the skilled efforts of the firefighters.
Georgie bit the inside of her cheeks to stop the flow of tears she could feel brimming. She twisted away from the dimming fire, knowing she would need to once again play hostess to the dozens of relatives now chattering amongst themselves.
“Let her be, Slugger.”
She stepped into Mac’s brotherly embrace. Her tears streamed, dampening his shirt where her cheek tightly pressed. “Why does she do it?” Georgie shuddered.
“She doesn’t want to be vulnerable. She’s spent the majority of her life steeling herself from potential hurt. After experiencing ten minutes with her mother, I’m surprised she allows herself to feel anything.”
Georgie sighed and stepped from Mac’s comfortable hug. “I know you’re right. I just want her to want to be my sister. Why can’t she give just a little?”
“I’d say the hug I witnessed, and her desperate need to save your house, your home with her, are steps in the right direction.”
She shifted her gaze from Mac to Charlotte’s back. Her sister stood ramrod straight, alone against the world. “I want to help her feel as though she’s a part of the family not a part. You know?”
He ruffled her hair with his fist. “Trust me, she feels part of the family. She just doesn’t want to admit it.”
Georgie glanced over her shoulder and noticed the shorter of the FBI agents talking to Billy Jack. “Mac, I know they are trying to help, but I don’t feel right about federal agents asking questions. I don’t know what happened tonight, but I think we need to figure it out before we get outsiders involved.”
He nodded. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Mac walked the gentle slope toward Billy Jack and Agent O’Neal.
A chill raced up Georgie’s spine as she glanced toward the skeletal remains of the trees she had dreamt under when she was a preteen. What a blessing no one was injured.
Remy’s arm wrapped around Charlotte’s shoulders. Her sister visibly melted into Remy’s side. Georgie’s stomach burned and her chin jutted at the obvious comfort her sister was willing to accept from a friend rather than family. Why couldn’t Charlotte find the same easy peace with her own sister? Why was their relationship a constant battle?
Girls of Summer Page 9
