“Who are you?” she demanded, her cheeks kindled with surprise.
“My apologies, Miss Caldwell.” The man offered her his hand. “Hank MacFabish at your service, Madame.” His voice drawled with an exaggerated Southern slur at the end. “We didn’t have the chance to be properly introduced at your father’s funeral. I was sorry to hear about his untimely death. I know it must be hard on you.”
“Never mind my father. I thought I was going to meet my own maker a few minutes ago. Did you see that shark?”
“No, I didn’t see him, though I figured it wasn’t my good looks that sent your shapely fanny hauling out of the water.”
“You knew? Why didn’t anyone tell me there are sharks in these waters?”
He cocked his head to one side and sent Sandra a look of amused scorn. “They’re only lemon sharks. Don’t get your girdle in a bunch.”
“As if you haven’t noticed, I’m not wearing a girdle.” Sandra clenched her fists. “How can you stand there and tell me it was only a lemon shark? A shark is a shark in my book. Why don’t you go take a dip with that thing?”
“I’d be happy to take a little dip, if you’d care to join me.” An arrogant grin pursed his thin lips as his gaze continued to roam the curves of her body. “I swim with sharks every day. How much more pleasant it would be if I had you for company.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t very likely,” she snapped.
Crossing his arms over his chest in feigned hurt, Hank MacFabish leaned back on his heels and flashed her a smile of conquest. “Just trying to be neighborly,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.
“You’re my neighbor?” Sandra asked in disbelief, not knowing what to make of the golden haired Spartan standing in front of her. Certainly his manner was too arrogant and too practiced for her taste.
“My business and I are right next door.” Hank MacFabish’s smile widened, revealing a straight row of white teeth. “If you need anything at all, I’m only a few feet away.”
“That’s reassuring to know.” Sandra hoped her hint of sarcasm hadn’t gone unnoticed. “You own the Gulf Paradise Aquarium?”
“That is me. More importantly, I’ve got a bottle of champagne in the refrigerator. I’d love to share it with you.”
Sandra drew a circle in the wet sand with her big toe. Hank MacFabish certainly thought a lot of himself, she surmised. By his manners, Sandra doubted if he ever got turned down by the local women.
“Thank you for the invitation.” She forced a polite smile onto her lips. “I’m really not in the mood for company.”
The fox’s grin on Hank’s face disappeared into a pout. The corners of his mouth went under and dimples formed in his cheeks.
“Yeah. Sure. I can understand,” he assured her. “After attending your father’s funeral yesterday and your ordeal in the bay, you must be tired.”
Sandra straightened her back. Her jaw hung loose in disbelief. What was it, he said? Without lifting her chin, she glared up at Hank. He stared back at her, impervious to her shocked expression. Lifting her chin, she narrowed her eyes in a smoldering rage. “My ordeal in the bay?” she asked.
“Yeah, the guys at the diner were saying you got caught in the tide and couldn’t get back into the bay yesterday. You’re lucky to be alive, sweet cheeks. You wouldn’t be the first person to disappear.”
Her first thought was of Luke. Had he spread the rumor? Of course, it wasn’t really a rumor. However, it hurt her to think of Luke sitting around laughing about what a fool she’d been. She turned her attention back to Hank. He was examining her like a prize jellyfish to exhibit in a tank with proper care and handling.
“Don’t you have anything better to do with your time than sit around gossiping at the local diner with Luke Caldwell?” she snapped.
Hank stifled a laugh. “Who said I was discussing anything with Luke Caldwell?”
“Who else would have known?”
“Word gets around a small town. If you don’t want people to know your business, you’re in the wrong town.”
Hank’s words swirled through her threatening to tighten around her neck in a suffocating force. Was coming to Fort Walton a mistake? No. She drove the thought from her mind. The Sea Breeze was her ticket away from her dreary insignificant job as a sales manager.
“I’m in the right town. My only misfortune is to have stepped into a nest of tongue flicking vipers,” she stated, tipping her nose upward in defiance.
Hank squeezed her towel covered arm.
She glared at him with resentment.
Pulling his hand away, she showed his palm to her as though he had been burnt by her touch. Don’t take it so hard. Anyone could’ve gotten caught in the current,” he said defensively. Once it starts to get dark, you can’t get anything without a motor through the bay. Why, you’re fortunate Luke saw you. You could be miles out in the open sea wishing for a bottle to write poetic letters in . . . or worse.”
“Is there anything else I should know about living here before I drown or get eaten by a shark?”
“Yes. . . . The native tongue flicking snakes are harmless and friendly.”
Friendly perhaps, she thought, if they want something. Harmless? No. Both Luke and Hank she suspected could be precarious opponents if tested. She had seen only a slice of Luke’s anger the other night. That was one storm she’d avoid at all cost. And Hank, she simply didn’t trust him.
In a flight of fantasy, she imagined Hank MacFabish and Luke Caldwell as scaly reptiles sitting around the Trader’s Cove gossiping about the day’s events. Covering her mouth with her hand, she stifled a laugh. Neither Luke nor Hank fit her idea of a human in snake skin. However, somebody had been talking up a storm.
“I’m sorry,” she offered, feeling Hank’s penetrating stare. “I didn’t mean to . . . insult you. It’s the Sea Breeze, I’m worried the incident may affect the business if people are talking about it. It’s hard enough for a woman to earn any respect in the business world. They’ll never accept me if they think I don’t know what I am doing.”
“You’re not going to sell the Sea Breeze?” Hank’s expression grew somber.
“Do you have a problem with my staying?” Her words came out hoarse, as though they had been artificially implanted in her throat and not her own.
A tight lipped grin lingered on Hank’s face as he raised two sun bleached eyebrows in pleasant speculation. “No problem at all. I can’t imagine ever objecting to having a good looking woman living across from me.”
He stood watching her as though he were waiting for her response. When none came, his eyebrows dropped. “I know it has been hard for you. Why don’t you come over to the aquarium with me? There’s enough bubbly chilling for two. And, I’ve got a good sound ear if you want to talk.”
Sandra doubted if conversation was what Hank had in mind. She noted though he’d been most deliberate and skillful in changing his approach. “No, thank you. I really need to turn in early tonight.”
“If you insist. Well, I’ll . . . “ Hank’s words trailed off as he stared at something behind her. Following his gaze Sandra saw a short stocky man with a head full of gray hair shuffling down the sandy bank. He was headed right toward them, however, his stride held little purpose.
As the man came within ear shot, he lifted his hand in greeting. Hank nodded his reply.
“Eustice?” Hank made his name into a question as Sandra shot the uninvited guest a smile of invitation. Regardless of Hank’s intentions, she was thankful for the interruption.
“How’re you doing, boy?” the man asked casually, paying no attention to Sandra.
“Just fine, Eustice. Have you met Sandra Harris yet?” Hank asked.
“Can’t say I have, now.” The man turned towards Sandra and eyed her from head to toe as though he’d just noticed her standing there. “Are you Ben Harris’ girl from Oklahoma?”
“Sandra Harris in the flesh,” she responded, offering Eustice an outstretched hand.
; The man glared down at her proffered hand than at her. “I’ve never taken much to shakin’ women’s hands,” he said with a shrug. “I heard you had a pretty big scare out there in the bay.”
Sandra felt her cheeks flush as she eyed Hank sternly, then Eustice. Had Eustice helped to spread the gossip even farther? Sandra wondered bitterly. Someone had certainly spread her misfortune about.
“Yes, I had a bit of trouble with my sailboard the other night. Luke Caldwell helped me get back to shore, though. It was really nothing to talk of,” she reassured the old man.
“Luke Caldwell? Well, I’d say that was mighty handy that he was around. Wouldn’t you?”
“I really must be going in, Mr. . . I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your last name.”
That’s ‘cause I didn’t give it to you, missy.”
Sandra glared over at Hank. He was pretending to be oblivious to their conversation.
“I guess, I could use to get back myself,” Hank finally mumbled with a grimace when he couldn’t avoid her stare any longer. “Be seeing you around, Sandra Harris, Eustice.” With that, he gave her his bank and began walking towards the aquarium.
When Sandra turned around again to tell the old man that she too would be leaving, she found herself standing alone on the shore. The older man was already a faint image against the fading horizon.
With a sigh, she stared up at the sky. Even though a portion of the sun still hovered above the ocean, an abundance of brilliant stars were already out. Each had its own clear, clean light shining down on her. Sandra’s thoughts flew back to Luke, the handsome sailor who’d rescued her on a similar starry night. What if he was the one who had been gossiping? Who was Luke Caldwell, anyway? She would have to make a special point of asking Bernice what he did for a living. Ben Harris must have trusted him though, she reasoned. He had been her father’s racing partner.
Her senses recalled his firm arms lifting her up off the cool sand, as well as his wonderful light kiss. A kiss as feathery as those you would expect from a fairy tale prince. Sandra knew first hand, however, that true princes did not exist, only pseudo copies. At least not in her life. Unfortunately, all the men Sandra had ever dated started out looking like the real thing only to evolve into frogs, warts and all. However, she couldn’t remember a kiss having knocked her so off balance the way Luke’s had. Perhaps a second kiss would be required to determine his status, frog or prince.
* * *
The next day sped by like a hurricane. Sandra met with her father’s attorney for several hours. He was a polite enough man, Sherman Handy. She suspected, however, he too had been an ear to the town’s gossip. It wasn’t what he had said as much as the way he acted toward her. He’d made her feel like one of those statues of marble you see in a museum, delicate, air headed and unapproachable. He probably saw her as a child taking on a man’s job. Before she was through, Sherman Handy and the entire town would get an education, she promised herself. She was no child and she was definitely up to the challenge.
Once she’d arrived home from the attorney’s office, Sandra made herself a sandwich and went upstairs to the bedroom. Collapsing on top of the quilted spread, she smiled as she thought of the many contradictions in her father’s life. She had never envisioned Ben Harris owning a waterbed nor would she have guessed him having been living with Bernice Miles. From all her mother had said, Sandra had figured a nineteen year old blonde bomb shell would have been more his type.
Eyeing her bologna and cheese, she pondered which was more inviting, a nap or the food. She was exhausted, as well as hungry. Deciding on the sandwich then the nap, she took a bite and leaned back against the bed. Her gaze caught on the trunk at the footboard. Rolling out of the bed, her sandwich still in hand, she stood in front of the wooden chest. She opened it and stared into an assortment of mementos her father had saved over the years. Taking another bite, Sandra spied a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. As her fingers reached for it, Sandra’s heart quivered in her chest. The blue ink on the address label had faded but remained legible. The package was addressed to her and it was from her father. The post mark showed that it had been mailed three days before her sixteenth birthday. What could have inspired Ben Harris to have sent this to her? Birthday or not, she’d never received anything from him before, she thought staring at the box in her hand.
Sandra fumbled with the ends of the paper as she unwrapped the perfectly square box. Not certain that she wanted to know what lie inside, she closed her eyes and took in a deep breathe. The air in the room suddenly felt stale and smothering. As she forced the creaking hinges open, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was reliving the mythological story of the Pandora’s Box. She told herself she was being absurd. There couldn’t be anything in the tiny black box that could alter her life in any way. Whatever it held, it would simply be one more unexplainable anomaly of her father’s life, nothing more.
Peering through the half opened lid, she saw a gold starfish pin lying on top of crimson velvet. Unable to believe what she held in her hand, she ran a fingertip along its smooth, cool edges. He had remembered her. But why a starfish pin and why had he sent it on her birthday and why had it been returned? None of it made sense.
Her head spun with unanswered questions as she backed against the bed. Sitting down onto the mattress, she unfastened the pin from its ten year confinement. This piece of jewelry hadn’t come from a five and ten store, she realized as she turned it over in her palm and examined the clip on the back. It was a fine piece of jewelry that he’d purchased for her.
She picked up the brown wrapper from the oak dresser and examined it. To Sandra’s dismay, the words, Return to Sender, were written in the far right hand corner in an all too familiar flamboyant English style print. The package had been addressed correctly. It hadn’t been an error. Her mother had sent the parcel back. Sandra felt her throat catch as she realized the pin she held in her hand could have made the difference between her having ever known her father. Warm currents of despair trickled down her cheeks. If she’d ever received the sea star, she’d surely sought him out whether he wanted her to or not. All she would have needed was to know he cared just a little.
Taking a deep breath, Sandra tried to bite back her tears. Why was she doing this to herself? So her mother had returned the only present her father had ever sent her and didn’t tell her. What was the big deal? Sandra had been young. Her mother probably felt it was in both their best interests to ignore the unexpected gift. And, it wasn’t as though she could turn back the hands of time. What was done was done.
Not wanting to think about the small piece of jewelry’s implications on her life further, Sandra placed the pin back in its box and returned it to the chest. Yes, her father had tried to give her one gift, she thought, wiping the tears from her face. Perhaps her mother had been right to send it back. One gift hardly made up for a lifetime of missed memories. No more than the Sea Breeze did. If it weren’t for the fact that she’d never get a better chance again to prove herself, she’d walk out the door right now. It would feel good to be able to turn her back on Ben Harris’ parting gesture. Surely, he hadn’t believed his estate could make up for his not being there all those years. Sandra felt a cloud of loneliness from her childhood shroud about her. His leaving hadn’t been the worst of it, she mused. What she remembered the most about those years was the feeling of being a stranger in your own home. There never had seemed to be any place for her to escape from her mother or her mother’s boyfriends and later her stepfather. Even in her own bedroom, she could hear them whisper. After her father had left, her mother hadn’t seemed to want much to do with her. It was as if Sandra reminded her too much of him. Perhaps, indeed she did, she thought dryly. She could tell by the photographs that she’d found in the shop that they shared a number of physical traits.
Wiping away the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, she told herself, she wouldn’t do this to herself again. She’d put Ben Harris behind her a long time ago. S
he wasn’t about to let him haunt her like a ghost from the afterlife now. Slamming the chest lid down with conviction, she told herself it didn’t matter what else happened to be in the trunk. The lid would never be opened in her presence again. She’d give the trunk away to charity or Bernice could have it. Sandra didn’t care. She didn’t want the chest around to tempt her. She no longer cared what Ben Harris’ life had been like. She didn’t want explanations or alibies. The only thing she would accept from her father at this late date was the business and that was solely because she had no other choice.
CHAPTER FOUR
By the end of the week, there wouldn’t be a person within seventy-five miles from Fort Walton Beach who hadn’t heard of the Sea Breeze and its reopening, Sandra thought with a smile as she pushed her chair back from her father’s marred old oak desk. It felt good to be able to design and put into place her own marketing campaign. The Sea Breeze was the opportunity she’d been waiting for since she graduated from college. Granted, she had always assumed she would be running a campaign for someone else’s business and not her own. The fact that she owned the small boating company simply sweetened the endeavor.
Sandra had spent the entire morning calling the area newspapers and radio stations, making sure each one had a press release packet. Not to mention, arranging for additional airtime and advertising space. Conversely, the afternoon had sped by with her dealing with the printers. Sandra knew exactly how she wanted her fliers and business cards to look. She wouldn’t settle for less.
Stretching her hands up over her head, she leaned back into the chair, closed her eyes and waited for the warmth of the sunlight from the nearby window to hit her face. Disappointed, she dropped her arms and swiveled around to look out the window. Several tenebrous clouds drifted about the sun shielding its gold rays. Her mind drifted with them, content to patiently await their departure. The beeper chime on her watch broke into her meandering thoughts. Good heavens, its four o’clock, she realized with a start as she stared at her wrist watch in disbelief. Luke would be there to pick her up in thirty minutes or less. How could she have forgotten about their date?
Sea Star Legacy Page 5
