Sweet Silver Bells

by Rochelle Alers

  “I was indisposed, Diego.” It was a half-truth.

  Diego’s resonant chuckle came through the earpiece. “I hope she was good.”

  A shadow of annoyance crossed his face. “It’s not what you think.” He and Crystal had shared dinner, not a bed, and if she’d been any woman other than the niece of Judge Solomon Eaton, Joseph definitely would’ve made it known to Crystal he was romantically interested in her.

  While in college he’d had one-night stands, but they usually left him unfulfilled. Waking up next to a woman he’d just met hours before, unable to remember much about her, sometime not even her name, was relegated to his undergraduate party days.

  “Lo siento, José. Quise decir sin faltarle el respeto,” Diego replied in Spanish.

  “No disrespect taken,” Joseph countered.

  “Who is she, Joseph?”

  “What makes you think it was a she?”

  There came another chuckle. “If it wasn’t a she, then you would’ve said you were tied up with something.”

  Joseph smiled. “You think you know me that well?”

  “Well enough since you decided to leave the dark side and work for ColeDiz.”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice when it came to leaving the dark side as you call the justice system. If you hadn’t lost Barry I still would be helping to lock away the dregs of society for lengthy sentences.”

  There came a pause, and then Diego said, “I really like your suggestion about selling the gourmet jams, jellies and preserves in our resort gift shops.”

  It was apparent Diego had received the order he’d placed with Sweet Persuasions. “Have you sampled them?”

  “Hell yeah. That’s why I’m in agreement. Do you have a firm offer from the manufacturer?”

  “Not yet,” Joseph said confidently. He knew he had to create a business plan, outlining their partnership before meeting with Selena.

  “You’re a brilliant lawyer, but you’ve also become a helluva businessman.”

  There was another pause, this time from Joseph. “Are you all right, Diego?”

  “Of course. Why?”

  “You usually don’t give out compliments.” Diego had a reputation as a hard-nosed, take-no-prisoners businessman. He wouldn’t let anything or anyone stand in his way if he wanted something. A few of the employees referred to him as the SOB instead of the CEO, but never to his face. Diego expected those who were fortunate enough to work for ColeDiz to give the company 110 percent effort. However, their hard work was always rewarded with generous year-end bonuses.

  “I shouldn’t have to blow up your ego because we’re sangre.”

  Joseph nodded, although Diego couldn’t see him. They were blood, and for a Cole that meant everything. Anyone with even a drop of Cole blood was familia. “Word.”

  “I had a long talk with Vivienne a few days ago and I want you to be the first know that I’m thinking about going into semiretirement at fifty and retire permanently at sixty. That means you should prepare to become CEO-in-training.”

  Joseph held his breath, not exhaling until his lungs were close to exploding. Diego held the distinction of being the fifth CEO of ColeDiz since Samuel Claridge Cole had established the company in the mid 1920s.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong with you? Vivienne? The kids?”

  “Slow down, Joseph. There’s nothing wrong with either of us. I suppose you can say I had an epiphany.”

  “What about?” he asked, listening intently as his cousin talked about making changes in his life.

  “I’d like to spend more time with my family before my kids grow up and have lives of their own. In ten years they’ll be teenagers and will probably want nothing to do with their old man except use me as their personal ATM. I don’t want to miss their soccer and Little League games or dance and music recitals because Daddy always has to work.”

  Joseph tightened his grip on the phone. He wasn’t ready to assume control of a billion-dollar international conglomerate. He didn’t need that responsibility, even if shared. When would he find the time to complete the construction on his home? And when finished, would he have time to enjoy it?

  “What if we compromise, Diego?”

  “How?”

  “I limit my traveling to South Carolina, Puerto Rico and Jamaica. No more crossing time zones and datelines. Even though I’m not married or have children, I’d like to think about having them by the time I’m thirty-five. And that’s not going to happen if I continue to jet around the world at a moment’s notice.”

  “Have you met someone special, Joseph?”

  Joseph’s jaw clenched. If he had met someone special he doubted whether their relationship would be deemed even close to normal. What woman would be willing to put up with him not celebrating her birthday with her because he was thousands of miles away? And if married, miss the birth or birthdays of their children?

  “No,” he said emphatically.

  “Are you looking?” Diego asked.

  “Not consciously, but I don’t want my life so bogged down with work that I won’t be able to give her the emotional support she’s entitled to as my wife. I bought that parcel of land almost a year ago with the intent of building a house, yet it hasn’t happened. I’ve put off meeting with the architect so many times he probably thinks I’m crazy. I’m scheduled to meet with him once again, but it’ll have to be after the tea harvest.”

  “I didn’t realize you were ready to settle down.”

  “It’s not so much about settling down as it is experiencing a semblance of normalcy. Hanging out here in Charleston for the next three months is the first time since I joined ColeDiz that I can actually plan what I want to do two or three days in advance. I may not have a family, but I do have a life. When you asked me to come and work with you I didn’t hesitate because you’re familia. And now you want me to take on more responsibility.”

  “It won’t be that much more.”

  “That’s bull, Diego, and you know it. I’m not agreeing to anything unless you’re willing to compromise.”

  “Let me think about it.”

  “You do that,” Joseph countered. Diego wasn’t the only Cole with a stubborn streak a mile wide. “I’m going to draft a proposal for Selena Eaton, so hopefully we’ll be able to invest in her company. I’ll send you a copy before I present it to her.”

  “Eaton? Is she by chance related to your Judge Eaton?”

  Joseph’s annoyance with his cousin eased with the mention of his former mentor. Diego knew how he had felt when he had to resign his position at the courthouse. But instead of pouting and sulking he sucked it up and did what so many in his family did when summoned to come work for the family-owned business. They did it without question.

  “Yes. She’s married to his nephew.”

  “Damn, primo. It looks as if you can’t get away from the Eatons.”

  A wide grin spread across Joseph’s face. He doubted if he would ever have met Selena if it hadn’t been for Crystal. “You’re right about that. I guess you can say it’s a small world.”

  “When it comes to you and the Eatons, it’s a small, small world,” Diego countered. “And there’s no need to send me a draft of the proposal, because you’ll just have to explain the legalese, which by the way bores the hell out of me. And, Joseph?”

  “What, Diego?”

  “I’m going to check with H.R. to see who in legal would like to do a little traveling every now and then.”

  “Gracias, primo. Adios.”

  Ending the call, Joseph wanted to remind Diego that it wasn’t just a little traveling, and whoever he selected would probably have to renew their passport every two to three years instead of the requisite ten. He also realized he’d turned a page on a chapter in his life when he’d challenged Diego. It was so
mething he wouldn’t have thought of doing two years ago. However, Diego wasn’t the only one who’d had an epiphany. It was time he took control of his life and his future.

  Palming the phone, he made his way to the area where a home/office had been set up. Instead of using the hotel desktop, he opened his laptop and entered his password.

  Hours later Joseph printed out the draft agreement. He would wait a day or two and then review it for additions and/or deletions.

  Chapter 7

  Crystal dropped her overnight bag on the floor in the entryway, her gaze lingering on the exquisite bouquet of flowers on the table.

  “Gorgeous flowers,” she remarked as she followed Selena through the living room.

  “They’re a gift from Joseph,” Selena said. “He sent the flowers along with a dozen honeybell oranges as thank-you gifts for brunch. It’s nice to find a man our age with some home training. Most times they want to take from a woman instead of giving or sharing. In my opinion he’s a keeper.”

  Crystal placed a hand over her mouth to conceal a yawn. She’d spent a restless night, tossing and turning, then finally getting out of bed after recurring dreams about Joseph. In one of them they were in bed together, limbs entwined, while his mouth explored every inch of her body. In another she saw herself walking away from him while he yelled at her to come back. The visions were both erotic and frightening, foreshadowing a short-term relationship.

  “I can’t keep what I don’t have.”

  Reaching for her hand, Selena led her into the kitchen. “But you could have him. I saw the way he was looking at you.”

  “Which way was that?”

  “Like he couldn’t believe what he was looking at. Would you go out with him if he asked you?”

  Crystal didn’t tell Selena that although she would go out with Joseph she definitely wasn’t looking for something long-term. “Why not? After all, it’s not as if I have a trail of men knocking on my door. And as you said, he does have home training.”

  “You should have a trail of men knocking down your door,” Selena said, giving her a sidelong glance. “Everyone says you and Mia are the family’s high-fashion models.”

  “Yeah, right,” Crystal drawled. “It’s because we’re so tall.” The former Mia Eaton had relocated from Dallas to Jonesburg as a medical resident. She fell in love and married Selena’s cousin Kenyon Chandler, sheriff of the historic Mingo County, West Virginia, mining town.

  “Tall and beautiful,” Selena continued as if Crystal hadn’t spoken. “In fact, you and Mia look enough alike to be sisters now that you’ve cut your hair. I know you said you had breakfast, but will you join me for a cup of latte?”

  Settling herself on the chair at the table in the eat-in kitchen, Crystal nodded. “Of course.” She looked around, not seeing any of the toys usually scattered about the floor. “Where’s Lily?”

  “Out with Xavier. He took her to Murrells Inlet.”

  Crystal stared at her cousin’s wife in a pair of gray sweatpants and an oversize white tee. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail. “What’s there?”

  “Brookgreen Gardens. It has nature trails, sculpture gardens and the Lowcountry Zoo. Lily’s a little young for the trails and gardens, but I’m certain she’ll enjoy the zoo.”

  Crystal smiled. “So the outing is more for Xavier than Lily?”

  Selena turned on the espresso machine. “You really know your cousin. Every Saturday he takes Lily out to give me a break. Even though he selects places that are child-friendly, they still appeal to him if they’re connected to history. And that means you and I have the rest of the day to ourselves.”

  “Don’t you have orders to fill?”

  Selena opened an overhead cabinet, taking down two mugs. “I stayed up late last night making six dozen chocolate amaretto and coffee-flavored truffles for a customer who’ll pick them up in an hour for her twin daughters’ twenty-first birthday.”

  “Have you given any thought to Joseph’s offer to invest in Sweet Persuasions?”

  Selena nodded. “Xavier and I talked about it, and he’s warming to the idea. I called Myles and spoke to him about it. He said not to commit or sign anything until he looks the agreement. It pays to have a lawyer in the family.”

  Crystal agreed with Selena. There were a number of Eatons who were doctors, several lawyers and teachers and her CPA/financial analyst father. “If Myles gives you the go-ahead, will you be able to meet the demand?”

  Resting a hip against the countertop, Selena gave Crystal a direct stare. Her expression changed, her gaze softening. “That depends. I’d have to hire someone, even if it’s part-time, and buy several automatic jam and jelly makers. The machine can produce about four half pints of each at a time. The problem is I don’t want to give up being an at-home patissier, because it would mean putting Lily in day care.”

  “What would you do?”

  “I may have to expand the commercial kitchen.”

  “How long does it take for a batch of jam to cook?”

  “About thirty minutes. One machine can produce one hundred twenty-eight ounces an hour. Multiply that by four hours and you have five hundred twelve ounces. Packaging them in two-ounce jars will yield more than two hundred fifty of them. I have Grandma’s recipe, so there’s not a problem of duplicating the final product. I thought about copackaging it, but the recipe is a closely held secret, and it would take years to get a patent, so I have to keep it in the family.”

  Crystal smiled. “Good for you.” Her smile faded. “What about your employee? Will he or she be privy to the ingredients in the recipe?”

  “No. They’ll know everything but the ingredients for the pectin. That’s Grandma’s secret.” Selena waved her hand. “Enough about me. What do you want to do today?”

  “Shopping.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” Selena said, smiling. “There’s a new boutique that opened a month ago off Calhoun Street that I’d like to check out.”

  Crystal’s smile grew wider as she cupped a hand to her ear. “I can hear it calling my name.”

  * * *

  Joseph eased off the accelerator, slowing the Range Rover as he maneuvered along the narrow, rutted, unpaved road leading to the tea plantation.

  Each time he came to the sparsely populated island during the summer months, Joseph felt as if he had stepped back not only in time but also into another world. It was primordial with ancient live oaks draped in Spanish moss, towering cypress trees, swamps and marshes teeming with poisonous snakes, alligators, snowy-white egrets and eagles. Eagle Island—one of more than a thousand in the Lowcountry running from Charleston, South Carolina, to Savannah, Georgia—was environmentally sensitive, and the engineers ColeDiz hired for the tea garden were instructed to clear land only necessary for planting.

  The summer air—heavy and dense—always seemed to smother him like a leaded blanket, making it difficult to draw a normal breath. But in autumn it changed, becoming clearer, softer and lighter, although the mornings were heavy with dew. The winter months were Joseph’s least favorite time of the year. What had been lush and alive now appeared gray, bleak.

  He drove past a small house erected on stilts, returning the wave of the elderly man sitting on the porch. Several hundred feet away stood another house, this one larger with a screened-in wraparound porch. There were more houses, all built off the ground in typical Lowcountry architecture. Most front doors were painted light blue, which at first he found odd until the proprietor of the island’s only store explained it was a Gullah custom. The color blue kept away the bad spirits.

  If Joseph thought many of the Gullah customs and traditions peculiar, it was their language he found intriguing. The term Gullah, believed to be derived from Angola, was an English dialect interspersed with several African languages. Books devoted to the Gull
ah culture and language now lined the shelves of the bookcase in his ColeDiz office, along with those devoted to every country and culture he’d visited. Joseph knew success only came from immersing himself in the culture of the country or region in which he conducted business.

  A road sign pointing the way to the Cole Tea Company came into view. Reflective letters warned it was private property and trespassers were subject to arrest. Unseen to the naked eye were close-circuit cameras protecting the property and monitored by a local resident who also worked for the tea company.

  Executing a smooth left turn, he maneuvered over a wide, paved roadway and then came to a complete stop. A carpet of green stretched across the landscape for as far as he could see.

  Seeing acre upon acre of tiny shoots pushing up through the damp earth made two years of sacrifice all the more profound. Joseph had given up the career he coveted since he was a child to take his place in the family-owned company. He’d sacrificed years of not having a normal relationship with a woman because of his commitment to a project initially he wasn’t certain would come to fruition. Twenty-six months, to be exact.

  Staring at the tea plants filled him with an indescribable feeling of pride. A law degree notwithstanding, Joseph had become the latest farmer in a family spanning five generations.

  Pulling into the driveway alongside a modern two-story Lowcountry house, he turned off the engine. The sound of a door opening and heavy footfalls caught his attention as he stepped out of the Range Rover. Joseph’s smile matched the wide grin belonging to the man who’d taught him everything he needed to know about growing tea.

  Standing six foot six and tipping the scales at two sixty, raven-haired former NFL defensive tackle Shane Knox was an imposing figure.

  Extending his hand, Joseph mounted the porch steps. “Happy New Year.”

  Ignoring the proffered hand, Shane pulled him close in a rib-crushing bear hug. “Back at you, Wilson. How the hell have you been?”

  Joseph pounded his back. “Yo, man, ease up before you break my ribs.”

  A rush of color suffused Shane’s face. “Sorry about that.”