“I was under the impression that Taylor didn’t have any children.”
“Most of us thought the same thing.”
Jeff shifted, and his chair groaned like someone in pain. “How are the others taking the news?”
“Let’s just say they’re not too happy that she exists. That’s why I’m calling you.”
“Don’t worry, David. I’ll keep an eye on her.” He knew his cousin couldn’t divulge how he’d come by the proof because he was still bound by attorney-client privilege, even in death.
“Thanks, Jeff. By the way, how is Aunt Corrine?”
“Grandmomma’s good. Have you made plans for Easter?”
“Yep. Petra and I are going down to St. Thomas for a few days. You’re welcome to join us.”
Jeff stared at his spit-shined boots. After spending twenty years in the Marine Corps, he still enjoyed the age-old tradition of shining his shoes and boots. “I’d love to, but I gave my deputies time off to spend with their families.”
“Speaking of families, Jeff, when are you going to settle down and have a couple of kids?”
He sat up and lowered his feet. “After you get married and have one.”
David’s chuckle came through the earpiece. “You’ve got a few years on me, Cuz, so you’re first. I have to hang up because I have a meeting with a new client. Call me if Kara is having trouble with her new family.”
“No problem,” Jeff promised.
He ended the call, then slipped the cell phone into the case attached to his gun belt. He was walking out of his office when his clerk, Winnie Powell, entered the police station through the back door.
Winnie smiled, her bright blue eyes sparkling like blue topaz. She fluffed up her short, curly hair. “It looks like rain.”
He returned her smile. “We could use a little of that.” The winter had been unusually dry. “I’m going over to Angels Landing.”
Winnie nodded as Jeff headed out of the station. Once in the parking lot that served the town hall, courthouse, and police station, the humidity wrapped around him like a wet blanket. He got into the Jeep and started the engine. The vehicle had been emblazoned with a sheriff logo on the passenger-side doors and refitted with a partition separating the front seats from the rear ones. Within minutes of driving, the rain had begun as Winnie predicted, the sound of the wipers breaking the silence.
Slowing to ten miles an hour, Jeff drove through downtown Sanctuary Cove, passing Jack’s Fish House, the town square with its fountain and marble statue of patriot militia General Francis Marion atop a stallion, and the Cove Inn, the town’s boardinghouse. Once he’d taken over as sheriff, he’d convinced the town council to lower the town’s speed limit to fifteen miles an hour because there were no traffic lights in the Cove and to discourage teenagers from drag racing. Amazingly, there hadn’t been posted speed limits for years.
Maneuvering onto an unpaved road, he shifted into four-wheel drive. A marker pointing the way to Angels Landing came into view, and Jeff turned onto Palmetto Lane and headed to the house that had given this section of Cavanaugh Island its name. The few times he’d come to Angels Landing, Jeff felt as if he’d stepped back in time. The antebellum mansion at the end of a live oak allée was breathtaking with its columned, wraparound porch. The rose-colored limestone Greek Revival home, with its pale pink marble columns and black-shuttered tall windows, had been one of the finest homes on the island.
Jeff parked next to the vintage Mercedes-Benz sedan that had belonged to Taylor Patton. Reaching for his cap on the passenger seat, he pulled it on. The rain was now a steady drizzle as he sprinted to the front door, which opened as he wiped his boots on the thick rush mat.
“Why, if it isn’t Corrine Hamilton’s grandbaby boy. What brings you out this way?”
Jeff took off his cap and curbed the urge to roll his eyes upward. The petite woman and her groundskeeper husband had worked for the Pattons for longer than he could remember. He also wanted to remind Mrs. Todd that at forty he had left boyhood behind many years before.
“Good afternoon, Miss Iris. I’m here to see Ms. Kara Newell. Is she in?”
Mrs. Todd’s dark eyes narrowed suspiciously behind her rimless glasses. “Did she do something, son?”
Jeff tightened his grip on his cap. It was apparent that the housekeeper had transferred her loyalty from Taylor to his daughter within weeks of his death. Those who lived on Cavanaugh Island joked that it was easier to gain access to the Oval Office than to cross the threshold to this historic house.
“No, she didn’t, Miss Iris. David Sullivan asked me to look in on her.”
Mrs. Todd opened the door wider. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” She smiled. “Follow me. She’s in the garden room.”
Jeff shook his head in amazement as he followed the elderly woman, who was dressed in a crisp gray uniform that matched the coronet of braids atop her head. It had been years since he’d stepped foot into the house, but like the exterior, nothing had changed. It had the same vases, lamps, tables, and chairs. Mrs. Todd directed him down a narrow carpeted hallway to a doorway on the south side of the property.
He stopped at the entrance to a room filled with potted plants, trees, and flowers. The sound of soft music flowed from somewhere in the indoor oasis. His gaze shifted to the housekeeper when she approached the woman reclining in a cushioned chaise and spoke quietly to her.
Jeff felt his heart stop when Kara Newell swung her long, slender, bare legs over the chaise and stood up to face him.
She was absolutely stunning. Anyone familiar with the Pattons would recognize the startling resemblance between Kara and her paternal grandmother Theodora—or Teddy as she had been affectionately called by her husband. His gaze went from her tousled hair, pulled up in a short ponytail, to the tawny face with large hazel eyes, cute button nose, and lushly curved full lips, then lower to a white tank top and olive-green shorts. Each time she took a breath, the swell of her breasts were visible above the top’s neckline. Scolding himself, he focused his attention on her face rather than staring at her chest. She was slim but had curves in all the right places.
He inclined his head. “Ms. Newell.”
Kara smiled and offered her hand. “Please call me Kara.”
Taking three long strides, Jeff grasped her hand, holding it gently within his much larger one. “Jeff Hamilton.”
“David told me you would stop by. Would you like to sit down?”
“Thank you.” He waited until Kara sat on a pull-up chair at a small round table covered with a floral tablecloth before sitting on the matching one.
A pair of eyes with glints of gold and green met his. “May I offer you something to eat or drink?” Kara asked Jeff.
“No, thank you.” He crossed one jean-covered knee over the other. “Have you settled in?”
Kara assumed a similar pose, staring at the polish on her bare toes. “There’s not going to be much settling in. I’ll only be here a week.”
Leaning forward, Jeff lowered his leg, planting both feet on the worn rug. “Are you telling me that you don’t plan to live here?”
“No, I’m not telling you that.”
“Then what is it you’re not saying?”
“Why do I get the impression that you’re interrogating me, Sheriff Hamilton?”
Jeff’s impassive expression did not change with her accusation. “If I were interrogating you, Kara, you wouldn’t have to ask. All I want is a yes or no as to whether you plan to live on Cavanaugh Island.”
“I can’t give you a yes or no, Sheriff Hamilton.”
“It’s Jeff.”
“Okay, Jeff. As I said, I can’t answer that question right now. I promised David I would spend a week on the island before making a decision. Only two hours ago I was told the man I believed to be my father isn’t.” She looked away from him, trying to hold back the tears forming in her eyes. “When I walked into that conference room earlier this morning and saw people staring at me who l
ook like me… to say it was a shock is putting it mildly. Then I was told that I’ve inherited a house, two thousand acres of land that my so-called relatives want me to sell to a group of greedy developers, and I must live here for five years. If I do so, it means I have to resign from my job, give up my Manhattan apartment, which has an incredible view of the East River, and lose contact with a group of friends I’ve become extremely close to.”
“Yes, I can understand how difficult that may be. Not only will you have to uproot your entire life, but you’ll also have to deal with the family issue.” Jeff lifted his broad shoulders under a long-sleeved chambray shirt. “The upside is you can always get another job and make new friends. And instead of views of the river, you’ll have views of the ocean.”
Kara folded her arms across her chest. “You make it sound so easy.”
A hint of a smile tilted the corners of Jeff’s mouth. “Because it is. I gave up a military career to come back here to take care of my grandmother.”
“That’s different.”
“You think so, Kara?”
“Of course it is. There is no discussion when it comes to family. You do what you have to do,” Kara said.
“Like you have to accept your birthright and honor your father’s last wishes.”
“What’s with this birthright thing?” she asked.
Jeff stood up. “I’ll tell you sometime soon. Right now, I have to get back.”
Kara also rose to her feet. “When will I see you again?”
“Tomorrow. I’m off, and if you don’t have anything planned, I’ll come by and take you to Jack’s for lunch and give you a crash course in Lowcountry culture.”
“I’d like you to answer one question for me, Jeff.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you have something against the Pattons?”
“Nothing personal. I just don’t like it when people threaten others.”
Her eyes grew wider. “Did David tell you what happened?”
“He didn’t have to. You can say I read between the lines. As sheriff of Cavanaugh, I have zero tolerance for those who break the law. And to me threats are a serious offense. I’ll pick you up at twelve.”
Jeff didn’t give Kara a chance to accept or reject his offer when he turned on his heels and walked out of the room. He’d been back for almost a year, and it was the first time that a woman had captured his attention for more than a few minutes.
There was something about Kara, other than her natural beauty, that had him enthralled. He didn’t know whether it was her big-city attitude, but whatever it was, he intended to discover it before the week ended and Kara was out of his life for good.
THE DISH
Where Authors Give You the Inside Scoop
From the desk of Vicky Dreiling
Dear Reader,
Some characters demand center stage. Like Andrew Carrington, the Earl of Bellingham, known as Bell to his friends. Bellingham first walked on stage as a minor character in my third historical romance How to Ravish a Rake. I had not planned him, but from the moment he spoke, I knew he would have his own book because of his incredible charisma. He also had the starring role in the e-novella A Season for Sin. As I began to write the e-novella, I realized that it was almost effortless. Frankly, I was and still am infatuated with him. That makes me laugh, because he is a figment of my imagination, but from the beginning, I could not ignore his strong presence.
After A Season for Sin was published, I started writing the full-length book WHAT A WICKED EARL WANTS so that Bell could have the happily ever after he richly deserved. A chance encounter brings Bellingham and the heroine, Laura, together. Bellingham is a rake who hopes to make a conquest of her, but despite their attraction, there are major obstacles. Laura is a respectable widow, mother, and daughter of a vicar. Bellingham only wants a temporary liaison, but he finds himself rescuing the lovely lady. His offer of help leads him down a path he never could have imagineed.
I’ve dreamed about my characters previously, but my dreams about Bell and Laura were so vivid that I woke up repeatedly during the writing of WHAT A WICKED EARL WANTS. Usually when I dream about my books in progress, I only see the characters momentarily. But when I dreamed about Bell and Laura, entire scenes played themselves in my head, DVD style, and sometimes a few of them in a night. While I didn’t get up in the middle of the night to write those scenes down, thankfully I remembered them the next morning and some of those dreams have made their way into the book. I’ll give you a hint of one dream I used in a scene. It involves some funny “rules.”
This couple surprised me repeatedly when I was awake and writing, too. I was enthralled with Bellingham and Laura. Yes, I know the ideas come from me, but sometimes, it almost feels as if the characters really do leap off the page. That was certainly the case for Bell and Laura.
As the writing progressed, I often felt as if I were peeling off another layer of Bellingham’s character. He is a man with deep wounds and very determined not to stir up the past. Yet I realized that subconsciously his actions were informed by all that had happened to him as a young man. I knew it would take a very special heroine to help him reconcile his past. Laura knows what he needs, and though he doesn’t make it easy for her, she never gives up.
I confess I still have a bit of a crush on Bellingham. :) I hope you will, too.
Enjoy!
VickyDreiling.com
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Twitter @vickydreiling
From the desk of Stella Cameron
Frog Crossing
Out West
Dear Reader,
My dog, Millie, doesn’t like salt water, or bath water, or rain—but it is the sight of all seven pounds of her trying to drink Puget Sound that stays with me. Urged to walk into about half an inch of ripples bubbling over pebbles on a beach, she slurped madly as if she could get rid of anything wet that might touch her feet.
That picture just popped into my head once more, just as I thought about what I might write to you about the Chimney Rock books and how stories shape up for me.
We were standing at the water’s edge on Whidbey Island, looking across Saratoga Passage toward Camano Island. Darkness Bound, the first book in the series, was finished and now it was time for DARKNESS BRED, on sale now.
Elin and Sean were already my heroine and hero. I knew that much before I finished the previous story, but there were so many other questions hanging around. And so many unfinished and important parts of lives I had already shown you. When we write books there’s a balancing act between telling/showing too much, and the opposite. Every character clamors to climb in but only those important to the current story can have a ticket to enter. The trick is to weed out the loudest and least interesting from the ones we have to know about.
The hidden world on Whidbey Island is busy, and gets busier. Once you are inside it’s not just colorful and varied, sometimes endearing and often scary, it is also addictive. Magic and mystery rub shoulders with what sometimes seems…just simply irresistible. How can I not want to explore every character’s tale?
That’s what makes me feel a bit like Millie draining Puget Sound of water—I have to clear away what I don’t want until I find the best stuff. Only I’m more fortunate than my dog because I do get to make all the difference.
Now you have your ticket to ride along with me again—enjoy every inch!
All the best,
From the desk of Rochelle Alers
Dear Reader,
How many of us had high school crushes, then years later come face-to-face with the boy who will always hold a special place in our hearts? This is what happens with Morgan Dane in HAVEN CREEK. At thirteen she’d believed herself in love with high school hunk, Nathaniel Shaw, but as a tall, skinny girl constantly teased for her prepubescent body, she can only worship him from afar.
I wanted HAVEN CREEK to become a modern-day fairy tale complete with a beautiful princess and a handsome prince, and, as in every fairy tale, t
here is something that will keep them apart before they’re able to live happily ever after. The princess in HAVEN CREEK lives her life by a set of inflexible rules, while it is a family secret that makes it nearly impossible for the prince to trust anyone.
You will reunite with architect Morgan Dane, who has been commissioned to oversee the restoration of Angels Landing Plantation. As she begins the task of hiring local artisans for the project, she knows the perfect candidate to supervise the reconstruction of the slave village. He is master carpenter and prodigal son Nathaniel Shaw.
Although Nate has returned to his boyhood home, he has become a recluse while he concentrates on running his family’s furniture-making business and keeping his younger brother out of trouble. But everything changes when Morgan asks him to become involved in her restoration project. It isn’t what she’s offering that presents a challenge to Nate, but it is Morgan herself. When he left the Creek she was a shy teenage girl. Now she is a confident, thirtysomething woman holding him completely enthralled with her brains and her beauty.
In HAVEN CREEK you will travel back to the Low-country with its magnificent sunsets; slow, meandering creeks and streams; primordial swamps teeming with indigenous wildlife; a pristine beach serving as a year-round recreational area; and the residents of the island with whom you’ve become familiar.
Church, community, and family—and not necessarily in that order—are an integral part of Lowcountry life, and never is that more apparent than on Cavanaugh Island. As soon as you read the first page of HAVEN CREEK you will be given an up-close and personal look into the Gullah culture with its island-wide celebrations, interactions at family Sunday dinners, and a quixotic young woman who has the gift of sight.
The gossipmongers are back along with the region’s famous mouth-watering cuisine and a supporting cast of characters—young and old—who will keep you laughing throughout the novel.
Haven Creek Page 35
