Haven Creek

by Rochelle Alers

  “I bet it’s a piece of jewelry,” Francine announced.

  David glared at her. “Fran! You’ll spoil his surprise.”

  Morgan tried to steady her fingers when she removed the bow and paper, and then opened the box. A tennis bracelet of princess-cut rubies and diamonds lay on a bed of white satin. Judging from the weight of the bracelet and the size of the stones, she knew that the piece, set in platinum, had set Nate back several thousand dollars. Her birthstone was a ruby. She held it up to stunned silence.

  Francine recovered first. “Put it on.”

  Morgan extended her arm. Nate placed it on her left wrist, securing it with the double safety catch. “Thank you,” she whispered. “It’s beautiful.”

  “As beautiful as you are.” Those close enough to overhear Nate exchanged glances.

  Morgan paused, composing her thoughts. “I’m a little tipsy from the Champagne, full as a tick from eating so much, and deliriously happy that I was able to share this very special day with the people I love. Thank you so much.” She turned to David. “You are truly special.”

  He nodded. “So are you, Morgan. And I promise not to bill you for the hours it took to put this together.” A groan went up from the assembly. “It’s a lawyer joke, folks,” David called out.

  Gussie came over and kissed her daughter. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right driving back to the Creek?”

  “I’ll take her home,” Nate volunteered.

  Morgan looked at him. “How did you get here?”

  “My flight got into Charleston around six thirty, and I took a cab directly here.”

  “Please take care of my daughter, Nate,” Gussie said in a quiet voice.

  He smiled at her. “I will.”

  One by one the guests took their leave, hugging and kissing Morgan and wishing her well. She knew her thirty-third birthday would be one she would remember for a very long time.

  Morgan settled back in the passenger seat and closed her eyes. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

  Nate adjusted the driver’s seat and mirrors on the Escalade, then pulled away from the curb. “How so?”

  “I had no idea you’d be back tonight, and I didn’t expect you to give me two gifts—which, by the way, are exquisite.”

  “So you like the decanter?”

  She opened her eyes, staring at his distinctive profile. “‘Like’ doesn’t begin to describe it.” Nate had ordered a cobalt-blue ship’s decanter in Waterford’s signature diamond-and-wedge Lismore pattern. “I put it on the credenza in the dining room.”

  “I didn’t know what to get you, but when I described your home to Sharon, she suggested crystal.”

  “I must remember to thank her,” Morgan said. “Did she have anything to do with the bracelet?” Light from the streetlights they passed came through the windows and reflected off the precious stones in the bracelet around her wrist.

  “No. When I was talking to Dwight about not being with you for your birthday, it hit me that I should get something for you instead of your house. When I saw the bracelet in a jewelry store at the hotel, I took a chance and bought it. A sign in the store window said that rubies are July’s birthstone.”

  “You have excellent taste. Thank you for thinking of me.”

  “Do you think of me when we’re not together?”

  Her expression changed, revealing her uneasiness. “Of course. Why would you ask me that?”

  “Just checking.”

  “I told you before that if I’m dating you, then I’m totally committed to whatever relationship we have.”

  The remainder of the ride to Haven Creek passed in complete silence. Nate parked under the carport at Morgan’s house. “Bryce and Stacy set a date.”

  “When is it?”

  Nate flashed a wide grin. “I know I’m not giving you much notice, but it’s next Saturday.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I said the same thing to my brother, and he said Stacy doesn’t want to wait, because the school year starts next month and she wants all her legal papers to read ‘Stacy Shaw.’”

  “Will the wedding be on the island?”

  “No. The Butlers are members of a small Charleston church. The reception dinner will be held at Magnolias.”

  Morgan was more than familiar with the upscale Charleston restaurant. The food and service were impeccable. “Very nice. You’re going to have to help me with ideas for a wedding gift.”

  “Don’t worry about that, Mo. I’m going to give them a check from both of us.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  Unbuckling his seat belt, he leaned over and kissed her. “Yes, I do. And please don’t argue with me because I’m bigger than you.”

  “Bully.”

  “I’ll never bully you, baby.”

  She gave him a long, penetrating stare. “You look tired.”

  “I took a couple of naps on the return flight, but I’m still a little wiped out.”

  “Did Dwight have strippers at his bachelor party?” she asked.

  “No comment.”

  “Nathaniel!” Throwing back her head, she laughed. “Now I know he did, because you don’t want to talk about it.”

  He opened his door, came around the truck, and opened hers. He assisted her off the seat. Retrieving his luggage from the second row of seats, Nate closed the door. “Let’s go inside.”

  Reaching into her small handbag, Morgan took out her house keys. No wonder he was exhausted. She’d thought it was jet lag, not strippers, that had left him with a slight puffiness under his luminous eyes. Rasputin was there to meet her when she opened the door, winding himself around her legs. He rubbed his head against Nate’s trousers, and then trotted off to the cat playhouse. The big shoe had become her pet’s favorite spot to hide.

  Turning, she smiled at Nate. “Why don’t you go and turn in? I have a few things to do before I come to bed.”

  She had some reading to do and e-mails to respond to. Going into her home office, she turned on the computer. There was the message she’d been waiting for. Abram had confirmed a date for his trip to Cavanaugh Island. She quickly replied that she would make his travel arrangements. She would also put him up in her home, because the NO VACANCY sign at the Cove Inn remained permanently in view during the summer season. There were a few other messages, but she decided not to reply to them until the following day.

  Going into the half bath off the pantry, she cleansed her face of makeup, brushed her teeth, and then walked on bare feet to her bedroom. Nate was in bed, asleep. She noticed his suit was thrown carelessly over a chair. Picking up the jacket, she read the label: H. HUNTSMAN & SONS. He owned a handmade suit from the world-renowned tailors on London’s Savile Row. Smiling, she hung up his suit and tie.

  Morgan turned over, encountering empty space. She raised her head, sniffed the air, and smelled bacon. Throwing back the sheet, she scrambled out of bed, brushed her teeth, showered, and was dressed in under fifteen minutes. She walked into the kitchen to find Nate in a white T-shirt, ripped jeans, and bare feet, putting out place settings at the cooking island.

  “Something smells wonderful.” Nate’s head popped up and she felt her stomach muscles contract when she stared at his stubble.

  He pulled out a chair. “Come sit down. You’re just in time. I was going to bring you breakfast in bed.”

  Morgan raised her head, moaning softly when Nate kissed her. “I’ve never had breakfast in bed.”

  “We’ll try it another time.” He kissed her forehead. “Thanks for hanging up my suit.”

  She met his eyes. “It’s a very nice suit.”

  Nate smiled. “It wears nicely.”

  “It costs enough to wear nicely.”

  “So you recognize the cut?”

  Resting her elbows on the countertop, Morgan shook her head. “No. I recognize the label.” She watched as Nate cracked eggs, then added distilled white vinegar to milk, causing it to curdle. She r
ealized he was making buttermilk pancakes.

  “I was in London for an extended period of time, and one day when I was window-shopping on Savile Row I saw H. Huntsman & Sons. They usually don’t accept blokes who walk in off the street, but after I dropped a few names, they told me to come back later that day. I did, and the rest is history.”

  “You only have the one suit?”

  “No. I have a tuxedo, a white dinner jacket and dress trousers, and a blue pinstripe.”

  Morgan pointed to his jeans. “Yet you prefer wearing ripped jeans.”

  “They’re comfortable. Do you want juice and coffee?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Sit,” he ordered when she made the motion to slip off the stool. “I’m waiting on you this morning, birthday girl.”

  She flashed a dimpled smile. “And I’ll do the same for you when it’s your birthday. By the way, when is your birthday?”

  “I’m not telling.”

  “Hey! That’s not fair.”

  “Haven’t you heard that all’s fair in love and war?”

  “That doesn’t apply to us, Nate. We’re not in love and we’re not at war with each other.”

  “Have you ever read Eric Hoffer?”

  “No.”

  “He wrote in Working and Thinking on the Waterfront that fair play is not blaming others for our problems. Therefore, don’t tell me I’m not fair.”

  Morgan sat up straight. “Are you saying I’m wrong because you won’t tell me your birth date?”

  “I’m not saying that. At least not directly.”

  “Then what are you saying, Nate? That it’s wrong for us to be together? That we’ll never love each other?”

  “You’re twisting my words, Morgan.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m not. What’s the big deal about asking when your birthday is?”

  Resting his palms on the countertop, he stared at her. “This is about more than my birthday, Morgan. What is it you want from me?”

  She took a deep breath. “I want to know where I stand with you.” She waved her hand. “We act like a couple and you refer to me as your girlfriend, but when I ask where things are going you don’t see a future for us.”

  He leaned closer. “Do you want me to tell you that I love you?”

  “No! I don’t want you to say things you don’t mean. And no more talk about marriage and babies.” Because it’s never going to happen, she added silently.

  Nate stood up straight. “Okay.”

  Morgan knew her frustration had come from loving Nate so much that her heart hurt. She loved him, but he didn’t love her. And she wondered how long she would be able to stay in a one-sided relationship.

  “I’ll drive you home when you’re ready to leave.”

  “Are you putting me out?”

  Morgan blew out her breath in exasperation. “I’m not putting you out, Nate.”

  “So I can stay?”

  Slipping off the stool, she curtsied. “Yes, Your Highness. You can stay as long as you’d like.”

  “You shouldn’t say that, princess.”

  “I don’t…” Her words trailed off when the telephone rang. “Excuse me,” she said, walking over to the wall phone. Rachel’s number came up on the display. “Good morning, Sis.”

  “They’re coming home today.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I just got a call from the hospital and we can bring the twins home today. They’re both five pounds.”

  Morgan pressed a hand to her throat. Her nephews were medically cleared to leave the hospital. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No. I called Mama and she’s coming with me and James. Come over later this afternoon. By that time I’ll need a break.”

  “You can’t continue to breast-feed two babies, Rach, if you’re not eating or resting as much as you should.”

  “We’ll talk about that when I see you. Mama just walked in. I’ll see you later.”

  Morgan hung up the phone to find Nate staring at her. “Stephen and Dennis are coming home. Would you like to go with me to meet them?”

  “Maybe another time, baby. I have to get back and work on the armoire. The Island Fair and going to Vegas kind of screwed up my schedule. And I still want to show you the drawings I made for the slave village.”

  “That can wait, Nate.”

  He beckoned her. “Come sit down. How do you like your pancakes? Regular or silver-dollar?”

  “Silver-dollar, please.”

  Nate moved about the kitchen with ease. He’d broiled the bacon to perfection, the pancakes were light and flavorful, and he’d even made freshly squeezed orange juice. They ate while listening to music, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for them to be sharing Sunday morning breakfast.

  “Leave it,” she told Nate when he picked up a plate. “You cooked, so I’ll clean.”

  He set down the plate. “I’d better go and get my things.”

  Morgan filled one side of the sink with warm soapy water for the dishes and flatware and the other side with water for the pots and pans. She’d reached for her purse and car keys when Nate returned, carrying his luggage and a garment bag.

  She drove the short distance to the barn, staring through the windshield as he got out. He came around to the driver’s side. “What time is the wedding?” she asked.

  Nate looked at her mouth. “I’ll pick you up at two. The ceremony is scheduled for three.”

  Leaning out the open window, she touched his jaw. “Thank you again for everything.”

  Brushing his mouth over hers, Nate whispered, “I’m not letting you go.”

  He didn’t give Morgan time to react before he turned on his heels and walked away. She was staring at the space where he’d been after he’d gotten out of the car. His words haunted her until she walked into Rachel’s house so that she could hold her new nephews for the first time.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Morgan watched Stacy Butler gaze into the eyes of her groom. Her voice was clear as she repeated her vows, promising to love Bryce through good and bad times. She wore a simple white strapless A-line gown with a sweetheart neckline. Her ash-blond hair was pulled off her face in an elegant chignon, which was festooned with a jeweled comb and white feathers.

  Bryce and Nate wore white dinner jackets, black dress trousers, and deep rose-pink silk bow ties and boutonnieres. Stacy’s sister stood in as her maid of honor, and her deep pink halter-style gown flattered her golden tan and sun-bleached hair. Stacy wanted a small, intimate gathering, and she’d gotten her wish. The wedding party and invited guests numbered an even three dozen.

  Her gaze shifted to Bryce’s parents. Odessa dabbed at her eyes while Lucas patted her back in an attempt to comfort her. It was a happy occasion, so Morgan didn’t know why people cried at weddings. She zoned out for a minute, wondering how long it would be before her big day. Would she laugh, smile, or cry when walking down the aisle? What was ironic was that despite how many weddings she’d attended, she hadn’t thought about what she wanted for her own wedding until she became involved with Nate.

  Morgan returned her attention to the ceremony as the bride and groom exchanged rings, and then a passionate kiss. The young couple’s smiles were as bright as incandescent bulbs. She laughed with the others in the church when Stacy did a happy dance while Bryce turned to hug Nate.

  The bride and groom walked down the white carpet and out of the church, followed by the wedding party and the parents of the couple. Nate had reserved a car to take Morgan to Magnolias while he lingered behind with the wedding party for photographs.

  They hadn’t seen each other all week, but managed to communicate by texting. She’d spent every day in Angels Landing, consulting with the Pattons. Virgie had made the right decision by bringing her in as designer, because Morgan would’ve never recommended that the Pattons put their residences on the list of house tours in their current condition.

  It’d taken her
a while to convince the Pattons that less was more when it came to furnishing the rooms. They only came around to her point of view when she showed them the before-and-after digital photos she’d uploaded to her iPad.

  A man in a black suit approached her. “Miss Dane?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “I’ll drive you to the restaurant.”

  He escorted her to a Lincoln Town Car, held the door while she got in, and then closed it behind her. Relaxing against the leather seat, Morgan thought about her relationship with Nate. He was mature, considerate, and giving. She just wondered where their relationship was headed. She’d accused Nate of sending her mixed signals, but Morgan realized that she, too, was equally guilty. I wouldn’t be able to balance marriage, motherhood, and a career at this time in my life. Her words to Nate had come back to haunt her, because she loved him enough to want to become his wife and the mother of his children. Staring out the window as the Town Car motored through the Charleston neighborhoods, Morgan took in the sights: barefoot children playing on manicured lawns; sprawling homes set several hundred feet back from the road; streets void of litter or debris. The familiar landmarks of downtown Charleston came into view, and the ride ended as the driver maneuvered up to the popular restaurant overlooking Charleston’s historic district.

  The chauffeur came around to assist her. She walked to the Magnolias entrance, where she was greeted by the maître d’. He gave her a too-bright grin. “Welcome to Magnolias.”

  She returned his smile. “Thank you. I’m here for the Butler-Shaw reception dinner.”

  The impeccably dressed man signaled a young woman. “Please escort her to the Wine Room.”

  The young woman flashed a practiced smile. She took a listing of names from her blouse pocket. “Please follow me, Miss…”

  “Dane,” Morgan said.

  “Miss Dane, you’ll be seated at table three.”

  She followed the hostess into a room that had a beautiful bay window overlooking the historic district. Countless bottles of wine were stored in built-in mahogany shelves. Six round tables, each with seating for six, were set with pristine tablecloths, silver, damask napkins, and bouquets of white and deep pink roses as centerpieces.