by Jenny Hale
“I have coffee with some ladies in town and one of them, Adelaide Foster, might know him. She used to do business with him, I believe, but it’s been quite a while. He was a handyman. I’ll see if she still has his number.”
“That would be great.” Callie felt so good knowing that the lockbox might be returned. While there was probably nothing of worth inside it—or surely Frederick would’ve kept it—it still had an air of mystery around it since it had obviously been hidden away in that built-in. “Maybe we could give him the journal too, since it was his sister’s.”
“Have you peeked inside it anymore?”
“No.”
Gladys nodded with understanding, probably knowing how private Callie was. She’d feel guilty prying. “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said, fluttering her hands in the air. “Paint, paint!” She set the lockbox down beside her chair while Callie resumed her work. “So tell me while you work. You’re spending some time with that young man, Luke Sullivan?”
“He’s just a friend,” Callie said, the prickle of emotion causing a flutter and making her cheeks burn as she pushed the roller up the wall.
When Gladys didn’t say anything, she turned around.
“You didn’t sound very convincing,” Gladys said with a smirk.
“Well my tone was by accident then. I barely know him.”
Gladys nodded. “He certainly seemed interested in you—I could tell by the way he looked at you.”
“Do you think?” She took in a breath and resumed painting, trying to keep the ridiculous smile off her face. With her focus still on the wall, she asked, as coolly and collectedly as she could, “What do you know about him?”
“I don’t know him,” she said. “But I saw him do something really nice once.”
“Oh?” She looked over, unable to hide her interest.
“I was in a restaurant—it’s closed now—but he was eating with a group of friends. An older lady at a nearby table left and forgot her purse beside her plate after she’d paid. He noticed and grabbed it, running after her. I watched through the large window as he ran full speed down the street after her car, all the way to the stoplight where he finally flagged her down and handed it to her through her window.”
“How thoughtful,” she said, realizing that she’d completely turned around toward Gladys, the paint roller at her side.
Gladys smiled. “You like him.”
Callie rolled her eyes and turned around to resume painting.
Gladys must have sensed Callie’s unwillingness to discuss it because she moved on to another topic. “Olivia mentioned a birthday party.”
“Yes, it’s tonight.”
“At Mr. Sullivan’s?”
Well, she thought Gladys had changed topics.
“Yes.” Callie swiveled around and set the roller down again, her focus completely disrupted. She struggled to keep from smiling. “I just don’t need any interruptions to my life at the moment, Gladys,” she said.
“Mmm.” Gladys nodded. She never had to actually say anything to let Callie know her opinion.
Callie shook her head and started painting again. She didn’t need distractions, but did that mean she didn’t want them?
Callie unpinned her hair, which now resembled a bent hanger, since it had dried in the clip she’d put it in after her shower this afternoon. She set the clip down on top of Alice’s journal and shook her hair out with her fingers, but it didn’t help. Gladys was still there, puttering around the kitchen downstairs with Olivia and Wyatt. Only moments before, Gladys had run home and returned with a jug of lemonade and a key lime pie.
Just as Callie was starting to worry about what to wear to the party, her phone lit up and she recognized that new number. It was Luke.
“People will be in and out all day. What time should I tell Julie you’re coming?” he asked after a quick hello.
She could only assume he meant his sister, Juliette Sullivan, who she’d read had moved to New York to start her own casual wear fashion line. A few of the boutiques in town had her pieces on display. According to local legend, the line was started entirely with her daddy’s money, and she’d yet to make the millions she’d promised him she would. But Callie had also read that a few big designers had taken notice and Juliette’s line had made it into a couple of department stores in New York, so she might still redeem herself.
Callie was about to go to the Sullivan mansion for a birthday party. She’d already worn the most expensive dress in the cottage on their date. What were she and Olivia supposed to wear today? They hadn’t even had time to go shopping for a gift, let alone an outfit, and he wanted a time. She looked at the clock.
“Why are you so quiet?” he asked.
“Umm…” Callie panicked, flopping down onto the air mattress, unsure of how to answer. She peered into the open closet. Most of their clothes were still in storage.
“What?” he asked, and she was surprised by the gentle sound in his voice, as if he really wanted to know, almost like he was worried about her.
She picked at the light blue paint that remained in the ridge of her fingernail and tried to figure out how to explain it to him. What was frustrating her was the fact that he’d probably never worried about something like this in his life. What if he thought she was making excuses and she didn’t want to go? That wasn’t true at all, because she’d love to give Wyatt a fun night out. And, if she was honest, she wanted to see Luke. Dropping her hand into her lap, she decided to just come out with it. “I don’t have any clothes nice enough for a party at your house.”
“That’s what you’re so quiet about? I don’t care what you wear. Wear whatever you want,” he said with a chuckle.
“Luke…” She took in a breath and lay back on her air mattress, running her fingers through her crooked curls. “Olivia and Wyatt don’t have anything either. In fact, I don’t even know the dress code. What do people wear to things like this? My few outfits are covered in paint, and the dress I wore for drinks with you is dirty.”
“Just wear something casual.”
Callie groaned. “There’s casual and then there’s bag lady attire. I’m not joking, Luke. I think I have to go shopping.”
“I like the bag lady look. I think you can pull it off.”
She rolled her eyes and sucked in her smile even though he couldn’t see it. “No. I’ve got to go anyway to get a present for the birthday boy. So be straight with me, are we talking dresses or shorts and T-shirts?”
“I’ll come with you. I promised Julie I’d pick up some balloons anyway.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I don’t? Okay, never mind then,” he teased.
Callie sat silently on the end of the phone. She wanted him to come. She wanted to see him.
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
She couldn’t stop herself from grinning.
Sherry’s was the name of a boutique that had only recently opened, the retail market being quite limited in Waves. Most of the shopping was further north in the villages of Nags Head and Duck. As advertised, Sherry’s had Juliette’s line in the window. It was situated in the center of the one small, renovated strip mall in town. Callie wasn’t sure they could afford anything from the shop but she figured she could have a look and maybe get some ideas, then move on to the next. It was quiet today—no reporters. Luke opened the door and allowed them to enter first, Wyatt trailing behind Callie and Olivia. They’d promised him an ice cream cone if he could endure all the clothes shopping. He was giving it his best effort, they could tell.
While Olivia thumbed through a rack of tank tops, Callie turned to Luke. “So what would you pick out?” she asked. He was wearing a perfectly worn, pale blue T-shirt with a stylishly faded boating logo on the front and a pair of shorts, and he looked more like a surfer than a millionaire, his bronze skin and bleached streaks in his hair revealing long days on the beach. She wondered what it would be like to run her fingers down his arm. She pulled her eyes away. W
hen had she last felt like this? Had she ever?
He stared at her, clearly out of his comfort zone but trying to come up with something. Perhaps he’d been expecting to just weigh in on her choices rather than being asked to pick something at random.
“This isn’t hard,” she said. “Look around. Think about any girl you know, and imagine what she might be wearing at your party.” She pulled a top from one of the racks and held it up. “Would she wear this to the party?”
He looked into her eyes and then his gaze moved around her face. “No,” he said with a smile.
She hung it back with the others. “How about this?”
He shook his head.
“Okay, then. Find me something she’d wear.”
Luke glanced over at Wyatt for help but Wyatt, who’d located a chair, was trying to solve two sides on his Rubik’s cube. He made eye contact and shrugged.
“You’re no help,” Luke told him with a smirk. Then he began to walk around the shop, tugging on the sleeves of shirts to view them and then letting them drop, the garments swinging back into position on the rack.
Wyatt sniggered.
Olivia, who’d already told her she’d planned to splurge today if she found something wonderful, had two silky tops and a pair of linen trousers draped over her arm while Callie followed Luke with her eyes. He was concentrating, the skin adorably wrinkled between his eyes as he looked through a row of mint green tops. Then he caught sight of something and moved over to another rack.
“This,” he said, pulling out a flowing sundress and holding it up. The dress was soft and feminine with pale flowers in various shades of pink and salmon. It had spaghetti straps and the hem looked like it would fall just above her knees. The almond-colored wedge sandals she’d seen in the window at the front of the shop and a brown pair of Jackie O-style sunglasses would look great with it.
“I’ll try it on,” she said, taking it from him. She couldn’t help but smile—he’d picked out something that was just her personality without even knowing it.
After asking the sales lady to get her size in the wedge sandals, Callie slipped into the dressing room and tried it on. She turned around and saw her reflection. It was perfect. She peered down at the tag to view the price and held her breath for a second. It was a hundred and fifty dollars. But more concerning than that was the fact that the brand was Coastal Pop. That was Juliette Sullivan’s brand. She couldn’t show up to the party wearing Juliette’s dress! She’d look like she was trying too hard.
Callie came out of the dressing room and Luke’s face lit up. “That looks great,” he said.
Olivia had chosen an outfit from the sale section and was looking through the children’s clothes for Wyatt. She gave her a very happy thumbs up.
“I like it too, but I can’t buy it. It’s your sister’s line.”
“You know my sister’s clothing brand?” He was almost cautious as he asked.
Olivia had lumped a few things on the counter and was counting with her fingers as she mentally added up the total. Callie wondered if she was just as shocked at the prices. This was the only boutique like it in the area, and Callie knew they did have a clientele—those people who rented the enormous new cottages that stretched across the beach, eating up the coastline as fast as the contractors could build them.
“Of course we know your sister’s line,” said Olivia. “You’re a Sullivan, a local celebrity.” She laughed. “Okay, we have to admit it, we may have paid more attention to certain articles in certain local publications than we might have a few months ago.”
Callie bit her lip. She got the sense that Luke didn’t like reporters, and he wasn’t too keen on what they wrote about him. Luke wasn’t smiling.
“Olivia, he’s going to think we’re stalking him!” She turned to Luke. “But we can’t help but know who you are. I think I first heard your last name when I was around twelve. And when I told Olivia about getting a burger with you that day we met, we had a few magazines lying around so we read the articles.
Luke looked startled. “So you think you know everything there is to know about the Sullivans?”
Callie shook her head. “No!” She felt awful—imagine if someone had access to all kinds of information about her. It made her want to squirm.
Luke opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t.
“Really, we know better than to believe everything we read in the papers.”
He nodded slowly then narrowed his eyes, but his lips were starting to smile again. “What’s my mother’s name?”
“Oh!” said Olivia. “I know this! Lillian!”
“Olivia!” Callie said, shaking her head and grinning.
Luke’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s my favorite color?”
Olivia’s face crumpled in thought. “Blue? No, red?”
“She doesn’t know,” Callie said. “We don’t know.”
“Good.” Luke grinned. And as Olivia walked toward the counter, laughing, he leaned forward and whispered in Callie’s ear, “My favorite color is green,” sending a shiver down her arm.
She felt a thrill shoot right through her chest. It was like he’d given her something.
Eleven
“I can’t believe I actually bought his sister’s dress,” Callie said as they parked the car.
Taking a large step onto the pavement to avoid sand in her new sandals, she was momentarily distracted as she took in the castle-like structure in front of her—a perfectly manicured lawn, palm trees meticulously placed in the exquisitely landscaped yard, and the house itself: all skylights and balconies. They’d parked behind more luxury cars than Callie could count, at the end of the huge, circular drive made entirely of aggregate. Down the street, she noticed what looked like a news van. A man was getting out, and aiming a camera at the house. Callie looked away, wondering if she’d read about the party in the local paper tomorrow. She focused on Olivia and Wyatt.
“He said his sister would be delighted, remember?”
Olivia opened the back door to let Wyatt out. He was wearing a two-button navy polo shirt and seersucker shorts with a new pair of loafers, his red curls combed to the side. Callie had hidden her grin when he’d first come downstairs. She hadn’t wanted to embarrass him, but he was adorable. She’d never seen him all dressed up like that before. He’d tugged at the collar of his shirt, and he seemed a bit uncomfortable, but, in the end, it was clear he’d endure anything if it meant meeting someone his own age.
“Juliette will think you’re wearing it for her!” Olivia said, pulling the gift from the backseat. They’d settled on a dinosaur excavating kit, complete with sand trays, picks, hammers, and dinosaur bones. Luke had said he’d like it. “Can you believe we’re actually going to meet Juliette Sullivan? She does runway shows on TV!”
“It’s definitely weird,” Callie said as they reached the door. The man with the camera had moved closer and she could hear him snap a photo. She smoothed her dress.
Luke opened the door and greeted them before they’d rung the bell. He was holding a beer in his hand. “Come in.” He leaned down toward Wyatt. “Mitchell’s out back. That’s my nephew’s name. He’s wearing a light blue shirt and white shorts. Go tell him I sent you.” Then, he seemed to notice the man as well, shaking his head as they entered. He shut the door.
Wyatt seemed a little shy as he walked through the crowd of people, across the gigantic open space, the kitchen, den, and dining area all sharing the same flawlessly glossed hardwoods. White columns were the only structures separating the rooms, stretching two stories high to the balcony where the second floor overlooked the large bay window facing the ocean.
“I’ll just walk Wyatt out,” Luke said. “Get yourselves a drink.” He pointed toward the spacious kitchen where a bartender was standing behind a bar that took up one whole wall. “Or you can go outside. There’s more out there.”
“We’ll follow you outside,” Callie suggested, just dying for fresh air and sunshine to calm her nerves. She cau
ght the eye of a group of women dressed like fashion models who were chattering loudly and laughing, their perfectly manicured hands wrapped around glasses of champagne. With a quick assessment of her dress, it seemed, they smiled briefly and went back to their conversation. Callie wondered if they’d noticed it was Juliette’s. She felt self-conscious.
Luke noticed Wyatt struggling to get through the crowd of people. He squatted down and whispered something to Wyatt, who nodded. Then, he scooped up Wyatt and gave him a piggyback ride across the room.
He led them through the two towering double doors that were propped open and tied with at least thirty silver Mylar balloons. Callie stepped onto the most magnificent deck—it was bigger than the whole of the downstairs at The Beachcomber. On either end there was a bar with a working bartender, crowds gathered around as both were tossing liquor bottles into the air and catching them. Between the bars were tables with turquoise umbrellas, hundreds of fresh flowers, chaise lounges, and wicker seating—all done up with matching cushions and throw pillows. Circular stone structures held fire pits that were roaring with flames resembling the orange sun as it began its slow descent behind the house.
Once Callie could force her vision beyond the deck, she was able to take in the yard below. The sand stretched as far as she could see in both directions—not another cottage in sight—the ocean rolling onto the shore. But close to the house, the yard had been landscaped with grass rivaling the best golf courses she could imagine, countless palm trees, outdoor lighting, patios, more umbrellas, and furniture.
Wyatt had found the other partygoers, Luke introducing him to Mitchell. The kids were piled into two bouncy castles that were as grand as the property itself. There was a clown making balloon animals, an ice cream stand, and a cotton candy machine with a man in a red and white striped suit and a tall white chef’s hat at the helm. Happiness flooded her as she saw Wyatt bounce along by the mesh netting. He grabbed the side and doubled over laughing, as another boy jumped toward him and pulled him back into the center.
