by Zane Morrow
In response, I give Brett a sharp look. He’s obviously up to something. I chance a glance at Blake, and he eyes his brother coolly.
“The camp is closing.” He huffs.
“Such a Scrooge!” Brett seems to enjoy giving his brother a hard time.
Brooke and I watch the brothers, with no attempt to hide our amusement. I’m not even sure how long we watched the banter before a presence silences our table.
“I just wanted to wish the happy couple blessings this week as they prepare for their wedding.” Ms. Dean stands over us. “And Miss Simmons, I would love to have you over sometime this week. Perhaps tomorrow for lunch. Would you be free?”
Without hesitation, I open my calendar. Somehow, Brooke has failed to schedule anything around lunchtime tomorrow. There would be no avoiding this. “Umm yes, of course, Ms. Dean what time would you like me there?”
“Noon sharp.” She taps her little cane on the floor. “Don’t be late.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She has the ability to make me feel like a child again. I fold my hands demurely in my lap.
When she walks away, Brooke leans toward me and murmurs, “Oh, you’re in trouble. Wait until your mom finds out you’ve been summoned by the Queen of Harper’s Island.” Her eyes sparkle with enjoyment.
“Pfft. That old woman doesn't scare me…much.” I laugh. “Actually, we sat together at a private fundraising luncheon a few years ago. I really like her.”
“You would. That old bat is crazy.” Blake glowers at me.
“Really? I’ll be sure to tell her you said so tomorrow.” I give him a saucy grin.
“The hell you will, girl! That would be business suicide.” The horrified look on his face is enough to make me happy.
“Now I can’t wait for lunch.” I beam at Brooke.
“You are so bad.” And yet I catch a look of admiration on her face.
“Apparently everyone is afraid of Mildred Dean.“ I say smartly as my eyes lock on Blake. “Even the great Blake Morgan.”
“The only person I fear is my mother and she’d probably kill me if I offended the Queen.” He bows his head in deference.
I enjoy the banter between us, acting like a cease fire as we bond over the Queen of Harper’s Island. This is the woman every person on the Island sucks up to. She sets every trend and fad among the wealthy.
“Well, I think Ms. Dean has spunk.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Spunk?” Blake cringes. “She lords over everyone.”
“Don’t be so mean.” I glare at him.
“Don’t be such a child.” He rolls his eyes.
“Why do you keep referring to us as children?” I ask him curiously.
“You’re younger than me by what--ten years, correct?”
“I don’t know. How old are you?” I sigh.
He sets his fork down on the edge of his plate. “I’m thirty-four.”
“Okay. I’m twenty-four. I have a bachelor’s degree in counseling and I’m working on a master’s in social work. This is more than a camp. It’s my career.” I can’t seem to hide the hurt in my voice.
“So find a new camp.” He shrugs.
“Seriously? This is your solution?” I wad up my linen napkin and toss it on the table with great fanfare. “You are closing a legacy over some misplaced anger. Maybe I should use my counseling background on you.” My brow raises in challenge.
His face clouds with anger. “Miss Simmons, I think you might want to remember I’m your boss.”
“Blake.” Brett interrupts.
“Stay out of this, brother.” He stares at me seriously. “Make no mistake about it, I will fire you if you talk to me that way again.”
I stand, causing the chair to scrape the floor loudly, and a few nearby patrons stare at us. “Blake Morgan, boss or not, you can kiss my ass! I’m not afraid of you.” I chuckle and lean closer. “Of course, if you fire me, be prepared to deal with your mother because mine will certainly let her know what you’ve done.” I gather my purse from the back of my chair. “Brooke, I’ll call you later, but I must excuse myself.”
No other words are spoken as I make my exit. I’m fuming. As I stride out of the dining room moments later, I hear someone calling my name.
“Miss Simmons?”
I look around and see a very handsome man in a suit moving towards me. I’d estimate him to be in his mid-thirties. He looks vaguely familiar to me, but I can’t place him. “Yes?” I answer hesitantly.
“Could I have a moment of your time? Perhaps a glass of wine in the garden.” He gestures toward the doors to the patio.
“What's this about?” I eye him warily.
“Excuse me, I apologize. My name is Trent Smith.” He studies me for a reaction.
Instantly, I’m able to place his name. “You’re the young man Ben used to talk about.”
He laughs and smiles. “I used to be, but I’m thirty-five years old now.”
I giggle. “Yes, I guess you're no longer a boy.”
“Shall we?” Again, he gestures toward the French doors on the back of the building.
I nod. “Of course.”
As we walk toward them together, I can't help but give a Cheshire cat grin as my eyes meet Brooke’s and she smiles widely. Then I see Blake’s frown and furrowed brow. His reaction made me so giddy, I almost want to kiss Trent.
“Come, they’ll bring us some wine in the garden.” His hand lands on the small of my back as he directs me through the doors. “I can’t help but notice your boss doesn’t look thrilled to see me.”
“He’s not a huge fan of me, either, at the moment.” I laugh quietly.
“Well, I’ll clear up why I’m here and then deal with Blake,” he murmurs in my ear.
I find myself quite curious about the animosity between them. Hopefully, I’ll understand soon.
We find a bench under a shade tree and take a seat. I give Trent a smile. To meet someone who once meant the world to Ben Morgan feels almost surreal.
Leaning forward, Trent’s elbows rest on his thighs as he prepares to speak. “I’ve heard Blake wants to close Camp Hope.”
My head tilts to the side and I find myself choosing my next words carefully. “From whom?”
“I have sources, Grace.” He sits up suddenly and fixes his gaze on me.
I hide my unease with a laugh. “I’m sure you do. So, what about it?”
“I want to purchase the place, but I know he’ll never sell to me.” He runs a hand under his chin. “I’m afraid Blake and I didn’t get along as boys. Ben meant well when he kept pairing us together, hoping we’d be fast friends, but he had no clue how cruelly Blake treated me all those summers ago.” He stares off into the distance and frowns.
I shift uncomfortably. “Well, I plan to talk him out of selling the camp if I can. I won’t roll over and let him toss Ben’s dream away. Luckily, Shelby is on my side.”
“I wish you luck. Now if you could entertain my proposal for a moment.” He grins. “I’d like to donate one million dollars to the Camp Hope Charity. It will reduce the expense to Morgan Enterprises. We all know this camp isn’t about making money.”
Blowing out a breath, I nod. This is a lot of money, enough for Blake to reconsider if it’s really about the financial loss. “Trent, I like the way you think. Would you like to come by my cottage for dinner with myself and my mother tonight? She’s acting chair of the Camp Hope Foundation and really the one you’d need to speak to about the donation.”
“That’s perfect. What time should I come by?” He claps his hands together.
I give Trent the address and wish him goodbye until this evening. Then I hurry home to prepare my mother for this turn of events.
6
An hour before dinner is to be served, I’m sitting with my mother in the parlor. It has been an enjoyable afternoon. The possibility of saving Camp Hope improved my mood greatly, and after speaking with Trent tonight, I’ll be able to present a detailed proposal at the next board meet
ing.
“Miss Grace?” Frank pops into the room. “Mr. Blake Morgan is here to see you.”
Immediately, my mood sours. “What the hell does he want now?” I scowl.
“Grace!” My mother frowns at me.
“Mother, I hate the man. If you’d heard the way he spoke to me at lunch, you wouldn’t be defending him.” I sigh heavily. “Send him in Frank.”
Frank disappears briefly and then returns with my nemesis.
“Forgive the intrusion, but I need to speak with you.” His words are directed at me and seem sincere, but my doubts aren’t unfounded given our recent history.
“What do you need, Blake?” I decide to cut to the chase, since we have company coming.
“I owe you an apology. This afternoon I was rude and disrespectful.” He crosses his arms over his chest as he waits for my response.
“Why this sudden change?” My brow furrows and then a thought occurs to me. “Does this have anything to do with Trent?”
“No.” His face screws up at mention of the name. “I was duly chastised by Mother after my brother filled her in on brunch.”
“So, this apology is because your mom scolded you?” His ears turn pink and he avoids meeting my eyes. “Seriously? Blake, take your coerced apology and shove it where the sun doesn't shine.”
Giggles escape my mother, who has been watching our conversation. “Careful, Grace.” Then she turns her attention to Blake. “Mr. Morgan, you seem to be digging yourself a bigger hole with my daughter.”
“Yes, ma’am. So it seems.” He sighs and rubs the back of his neck while my mother scrutinizes him. I almost feel sorry for him. I’ve been in the same uncomfortable position on more than one occasion.
“Why do you two insist on butting heads when you should be working together?” She glances back and forth between us.
“I’m not working with him. He’s trying to destroy the place I love.” My eyes narrow.
He stuffs his hands in his pockets and glares at me. “Yes, well, we might get along better if you weren’t so determined to save a place I hate.”
My eyes suddenly widen in surprise. How could anyone hate Camp Hope? Before I could address the unspoken question, Frank entered the room with Trent in tow.
“What’s he doing here?” Blake turns to me.
“I invited him for dinner.” I shrug. “Like me, Trent loves Camp Hope.” From the corner of my eye, Trent’s chest puffs out slightly. “Not everyone is heartless like you, Blake.” I can’t resist the little dig.
“Well, I guess I should go.” He sighs sadly.
“Nonsense, Blake. Stay and eat. There’s always plenty.” Mother smiles warmly and I recognize her efforts to diffuse the tensions. “Frank, can you make sure another place is set at the table please?” Then she stands and disappears from the room to tend to the details of the meal leaving the three of us alone in an uncomfortable silence.
Still, I start giggling as soon as Blake’s shoulders sag and he realizes he’s stuck eating dinner with Trent tonight. This should be entertaining, and I’m going to make the most of it.
“You’re such a child.” He scowls at me.
“Says the man who’s pouting!” I snicker. Then I smile at our newest guest. “Good evening Trent. I trust you had no trouble finding us?”
“No, the GPS gave me no problems.” He grins. “I was thinking on the way over here. It occurs to me, I believe I once served on some board with your stepfather.”
“Oh, I hope he returns in time for you to see him then.” I clasp my hands in front of my chest. “He’s wonderful. I love him.” I gush sincerely.
Blake looks slightly uncomfortable, and my background in psychology has me picking apart his behaviors. Of course, I’d need more before I could accurately assess what was going on with him. I watch as Trent’s attention now turns to the man he’d claimed had been cruel to him.
“Blake, it has been a long time.” Trent offers his hand. Blake looks at it briefly before taking it in a very firm handshake.
“Yes, it seems the years have been good to you.” He stares at Trent blandly.
“They have. I took everything your father taught me and turned it into a multi-billion-dollar corporation.” He shrugs, but can’t hide a smug smile.
“I’m aware.” Blake is speaking almost monotone.
“That’s fantastic. I took everything Ben taught me and use it to run Camp Hope.” I glance at Blake, who’s giving me the evil eye. Instead of being put off by his reaction, I’m actually bolstered. Then my mother appears.
“Dinner is ready,” she announces before she turns to lead the way.
“Come along gentlemen.” I stand and the men do the same. Trent steps up beside me and offers his arm. I grin and loop mine through his. Together, we enter the dining room with Blake walking behind us dejectedly.
“Everyone please take your seats.” My mother leaves the seat at the head of the table open for my stepfather. Instead, she takes her usual seat to his right and seats me in my seat across from her. Then I realize, for some reason, she has Trent seated to her right and Blake to my left.
Ever the gentleman, Blake helps me with my chair. I give her a dirty look as he drapes my linen napkin across my lap. She better not be plotting what I think she’s plotting. There will be no matchmaking. Blake and I can’t get along for more than a few minutes at a time. Marriage between us would be a dreadful idea.
“Mrs. Hightower, my compliments to the chef.” Trent nods at my mother.
“I agree. The meal was excellent.” Blake places his napkin beside his plate.
I eye both men quietly. I am studying them. I can’t help myself. It’s who I am.
“Shall we adjourn to the parlor?” My mother moves to stand. “We can have drinks and dessert there.”
Oh, goody. The torture continues. There’s rustling as all of us push our chairs back and stand. My mother latches an arm through Trent’s and they wander off toward the parlor. I shake my head as I watch her start talking his ear off about the Camp Hope Foundation and the coming fundraisers.
“Shall we?” Blake offers me his arm. I hesitate a moment before linking arms with him. He places his hand on mine. “Do you think it’s possible for us to be civil the rest of the night?”
“I’m not sure.” I tilt my head as I stare up at him. A smile plays on my lips. “I rather enjoy getting under your skin.”
“Lovely.” He rolls his eyes at me, but there is a slight twitch letting me know he is amused by me at the moment.
“Listen, just because we ate a meal together without drawing blood, it doesn’t mean anything has changed. I’m still not going to let you close down Camp Hope without a fight.” I set my chin defiantly.
“I expected as much.” He sighs. “I’m actually looking forward to the fight.” He seems a bit embarrassed saying this.
“Is something wrong?” I frown.
“Not exactly. It has been a long time since anyone has gone toe-to-toe with me in business.” He bites his cheek. “I’m not sure why it had to be you, though.”
“I should probably take offense at that, but I don’t feel like it.” I shrug. “Enjoy your moment.” I laugh as we enter through the parlor. He leads me to the chair I had occupied earlier and holds my hand as I sit.
“Can I bring you a drink, my lady?” Blake bows and winks playfully.
“A shot of tequila.” His eyes grow large. I laugh. “Relax, Dad! I’m just joking.” I roll my eyes. “But I really will take some of whatever is mixed in that pitcher.” I wave my hand in the direction of the bar.
My mom stares at me from her spot on the couch. When I finally meet her gaze, she gives me a knowing grin. I roll my eyes and make a face. She shakes her head at me, which causes Trent to turn my direction. I’m hoping he didn’t catch me.
“Here you go.” Blake hands me a tumbler.
“Thank you.” I smile and take a healthy sip of what turns out to be a Hurricane.
He sits in a nearby cha
ir and takes a drink from his own glass. “Nice.” He nods.
Folding her hands in her lap, my mother clears her throat and garner’s everyone’s attention. “So, let’s get down to business. Grace, just remember this is my business, not yours.”
“Yes, Mom. I know who runs the charitable foundation.” I sigh.
Trent reaches into his jacket pocket. “Since we’re talking about the foundation, I’d like to donate one million dollars.” He passes my mother a check.
For a moment, she stares at it. “This is incredibly generous, Trent.”
“Well, I want to give back and pay it forward all at the same time.” He looks at Blake pointedly. “Ben Morgan was a great man. This is the way I plan to honor him.”
A knot forms in my throat at Trent’s words. It’s amazing this man hasn’t forgotten where he started even though he very well could have. I peek at Blake. He’s studying Trent carefully.
“I think that’s a great thing you’re doing.”
“What?” I blurt as I whip around, so I completely face Blake.
“It is.” He shrugs.
“Then why the hell are you closing Camp Hope?” My brow furrows and I feel like I’m about to jump out of my skin.
“I don’t have any desire to piss away money on a bunch of kids who mean nothing to me.” He shrugs.
My mouth drops open. How is this man before me the son of Ben Morgan?
7
Two days pass and I don’t encounter Trent again. Blake is a different story. I’ve seen him more than I want to right now. Sometimes it’s fun giving him a hard time but other times I fight the sudden urge to kill. Brooke, the three other bridesmaids and I are at some luncheon with the women in the groom’s family. I’m not even sure what the point of this one is.
“Just keep smiling.” Brooke whispers in my ear.
“I am. I’m smiling so hard my face hurts.” Then I cringe as Ms. Dean approaches us.
Brooke eyes me funny before her mouth forms a perfect ‘O.’ “Did you forget to tell me something about your lunch with the queen?”
