by Ginny Baird
“Nothing would make me happier,” Heath said surely. “I want you to see where I closed the book on one chapter in my life.” He sweetly kissed her hand. “And a whole new story for me began.”
“Thank you for planning this weekend,” she told him. “I’m having such a great time.”
“Thanks for agreeing to come here.” Despite his earnest offer to foot the bill for her plane fare, Tara was proud she’d decided to pay her own way. Their first date in New York had been a sweeping opening gesture on Heath’s part. Now, she wanted to put things back on more equal footing. Tara had even greater plans for that when she invited Heath to Maine. She hoped to get him to visit her in Beaumont soon, maybe even for Thanksgiving.
“Seems like a cool place to live,” she said, glancing around the beautiful park.
“It is, and—believe it or not—an Irish Lass like you would actually be in good company.”
“Yeah?”
“We’ve got our share of Irish heritage here.” He motioned toward the fountain. “Every St. Patrick’s Day that fountain’s dyed green.”
“Seriously?” Tara laughed with delight. “I had no idea.”
“There’s much more to learn about Savannah than can be gleaned in one weekend.” He shared a telling look, and Tara directly met his gaze.
“That just means I’ll have to come back.”
Heath’s laughter rumbled. “Indeed.”
He released her hand, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “I hope you’ll return often.”
****
Later that afternoon, they stood among the gusty winds of Tybee Beach. It was mid-November so the beach was nearly barren, with just a few evening surf fishers setting up their poles. “It’s gorgeous out here,” Tara said, observing the setting sun.
Heath grinned sexily. “Better today than I’ve ever seen it.”
“There you go with your sweet talking, again.” She playfully elbowed him as they strode through the sand. While it wasn’t cold enough to warrant the full winter gear Tara wore in Maine, she definitely appreciated the windbreaker qualities of her mid-weight jacket. Heath had his jacket zipped up, too, yet his hands were bare while she had donned a scarf and gloves.
“I only tell you nice things because I mean them.”
“Yeah well, I appreciate them. I really do.” She cut him a sideways glance and grinned. “I’d much rather have you complimenting me than anyone else.”
“Sweetheart,” he said, and her cheeks flushed at the endearment. “There is nobody else. Hasn’t been since I unleashed that genie from its bottle.” He winked then stopped walking. “We’re here.” His hand swept over the shore, gesturing toward the water. “This was the place of my undoing.”
Tara laughed lightly at this. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He took her in his arms and kissed her soundly. Winds gusted around them, turning over small shells and ruffling through Tara’s hair.
She brought her palms to his cheeks and met Heath’s gaze. “Well, this is the place of my undoing.”
His brow rose questioningly.
“Right here in your arms,” she said with a saucy edge.
A slow grin warmed his face. “What time does your plane leave tomorrow?”
“Three o’clock. Why?”
“I was thinking I’d take you for shrimp and grits at my favorite brunch place, before making a stop on our way to the airport.”
“Oh? Where are we going?”
He hugged her up against him and kissed the top of her head. “Someplace special. You’ll see.”
Chapter Twelve
The next afternoon, Tara was surprised to find Heath showing his credentials to a guard at a gated retirement community. Then she remembered Heath’s stated affection for his paternal grandfather, and it all made sense.
“I hope you don’t mind the detour?” he said, driving them past the gatehouse. “There’s someone I’d really like you to meet.”
“I’d be honored,” Tara said, meaning it absolutely. It touched her deeply that Heath wanted her to meet someone so significant to him.
He parked his car then led her through the entrance of a grand old building with a lushly manicured lawn and towering ivory columns on either side of its stately front door. The nurses in the reception area greeted Heath cheerily. He was apparently a regular figure around here, as everyone knew his name, though they addressed him very formally as Mr. Wellington when they said good afternoon. A charge nurse named Martha with short blond curls turned his way and smiled. “He’s in the atrium,” she offered, indicating the whereabouts of Heath’s grandfather. “We’re having music there this afternoon.”
As they approached that area, chords of classical music echoed down the expansive hallway toward them. Tara discerned various string instruments: a violin, a viola, a double bass, and maybe a cello. They paused on the threshold to a room with a vaulted glass ceiling and pretty potted plants all around, and Heath waved an older gentleman’s way.
Lyle Wellington’s face lit up, as he pivoted his wheelchair toward them with a smile. He backed his automated chair away from the crowd that had gathered to hear the talented string ensemble, and quietly glided toward them. Tara was struck by the similarities in his and Heath’s appearances. While his face was older and etched with wrinkles, they shared a resemblance and Heath’s dark chocolate-brown eyes.
“Heath, my boy,” he said, clasping Heath’s hand between both of his. “What an unexpected pleasure.”
“I tried phoning this morning,” Heath explained. “But you weren’t in your room.”
“Probably on a date with one of the pretty nurses,” Lyle joked, winking at Tara, and she laughed warmly. “Who’s this charming young lady?” he asked his grandson.
“Granddad, I’d like you to meet Tara McAdams.”
She extended her hand, and Lyle took it, squeezing it firmly in his. “It’s a pleasure, my dear.”
“It’s so nice to meet you, too,” Tara told him. “Heath’s said so many nice things about you.”
“Has he, now?” Lyle brought his hand to his chin to study Heath. “That must mean you’re after something. Come on now, what is it?”
Heath chuckled good-naturedly. “Granddad, you know that’s not true.” He gripped the handlebars on the wheelchair and steered them toward a more private spot. Tara saw he was aiming for a small seating area in an adjoining room.
Lyle stared back at Heath over his shoulder. “Oh yes, it is.” Next, he addressed Tara. “The last time he was nice to me, I gave him my bank.”
Tara giggled at this and Heath sighed. “That’s right,” he said cajolingly. “I wheedled it right out from under you.”
“He might have, at that,” Lyle confided to Tara. “That is, if I hadn’t determined him as the best man for the job first.”
Heath positioned the wheelchair beside the sofa and Lyle asked both him and Tara to please take a seat. As Tara did, Lyle questioned, “You’re not from Savannah, I take it?”
“No, sir. But how did you—?”
“A girl as pretty as you wouldn’t have escaped my grandson’s notice for this long. Not unless he was being a really big dummy.” He quizzically eyed Heath. “You weren’t, were you?”
“Granddad…”
“It’s all right,” Tara said, laughing. “And no, Mr. Wellington, I can assure you that Heath has actually been very smart. He took me on an incredibly romantic first date, in fact.”
Heath sat up a little straighter in his palmetto chair, apparently liking the sound of Tara praising him to his grandfather.
“Is that so?” Lyle leaned toward Heath with interest. “Where’d you go?”
“To New York City.” He tried to downplay it, but Tara detected a note of accomplishment underneath. “For coffee, dinner, and a show.”
Lyle opened his mouth to speak but Heath stopped him. “Separate rooms.”
“Well, good.” The old man leaned back in his chair satisfied. “Not that I’m really that old-fash
ioned.”
“Not that it’s really any of your business,” Heath bantered.
“You offered,” Lyle countered.
“Because, I knew if I didn’t, you’d ask.”
Lyle raised his brow at Tara and spoke behind the back of his hand. “Is he always this pesky with you?”
She chuckled merrily, appreciating the camaraderie Heath and Lyle clearly enjoyed. “Only sometimes.”
“Hey!” Heath protested, but he was grinning.
“In any case,” Tara said primly, crossing her legs. “You’ll be happy to know Heath was the perfect gentleman. And…” She grinned coyly. “He swept me off my feet.”
Tara wasn’t sure, but she thought she detected a hint of color beneath Heath’s open collar. He wore a golf shirt under a sweater and khakis with loafers. The outfit was casual but polished and suited him to a tee. It certainly didn’t hurt that he was the best-looking guy she’d seen. Ever.
Heath’s dark brown eyes locked on hers. “That was the plan.”
Lyle grinned broadly and clapped his hands together. “Heath’s always been an excellent planner. That’s one reason he’s so good at his job.”
“Sounds like you did a phenomenal job starting the bank that Heath took over,” Tara commented.
“Yes, but it was a small-potatoes operation back in the day. Nothing like it is now.” He admiringly viewed his grandson. “Heath’s brought it a long way.”
“Tara’s dad is in banking,” Heath said.
“That so?” Lyle asked, his interest piqued. “Whereabouts?”
“Up in Beaumont, Maine,” Tara said. “It’s a very small bank. I’m sure you haven’t heard of it.”
“Try me.”
“North Shore Central.”
Lyle thumped his fingers against his armrest. “Nope, don’t believe I have, but that doesn’t mean much. I’ve been out of the business for some time. Heath, on the other hand…” He turned Heath’s way, and Heath nodded.
“I have heard of it, yes. I just can’t recall the context. I’ve been meaning to look it up at work.”
“Do you think we’ve had dealings?” Lyle questioned.
“Sometime in the past?” Heath questioned. “It’s possible.”
Tara wasn’t so sure. When she’d mentioned Heath’s bank to her dad, he’d naturally heard of it, since it had grown into such a large entity. But he hadn’t mentioned anything beyond that. After returning from New York, Tara had filled her dad in on her relationship with Heath in a general way. Richard hadn’t been thrilled about Tara sending a message in a bottle, and he remained skeptical about her involvement with some big businessman from the south. The fact that Heath was also in banking didn’t necessarily seem to help. Tara hoped her dad’s opinion of Heath would soften a bit once the two men met face to face.
“Is that where you live?” Lyle asked Tara, referring back to her mention of Beaumont, Maine.
Tara beamed happily. “Yes, it is.”
“Tara went to college in New Orleans,” Heath informed Lyle. “So, she’s not a total stranger to the south.”
Lyle chuckled warmly. “Didn’t imagine she was.” He eyed Tara admiringly. “She looks just like Scarlett O’Hara.”
Tara blushed deeply, because this wasn’t the first time she’d heard the comparison. Her old boyfriend, Ned, used to say that a lot. Though Ned had nothing at all in common with Rhett Butler. A certain banker gentleman from Savannah, however…Tara thought, her mind starting to wander.
“She does favor Vivien Leigh in that movie, doesn’t she?” Heath observed with surprise. “Although, in my opinion, Tara’s much prettier.”
“Guys!” Tara cried, feeling fire in her cheeks.
“Plus, she’s a heck of a lot sweeter,” Heath told his granddad with conviction. “Tara’s every bit as smart as Scarlett was, and savvy in business. But Tara’s not conniving in any way. She didn’t have to use her feminine wiles or employ underhanded tactics to catch my eye.”
Lyle clucked his tongue. “Well, well. I guess that says it all.” He bowed his chin at Tara. “My hat’s off to you. I’ve never heard my grandson speak that way about anyone.”
Heath uncomfortably cleared his throat, perhaps wondering if he’d gone too far. But Tara didn’t think he had. She’d loved and appreciated every heartfelt word. “We should probably get going,” he said, shooting Tara a glance. When she confirmed with a nod, he added, “Tara’s got a flight out of Savannah this afternoon.”
“Leaving, already?” Lyle’s forehead rose plaintively. “I’m so sorry, dear. It seems we’ve barely met.”
Tara got to her feet then assured him, “I’ll be back.”
Lyle grinned at Heath, then at Tara. “Fantastic. When?”
“We’ll work it out, and I’ll tell you,” Heath said, giving Lyle’s shoulder a pat.
“I’ll look forward to it,” Lyle told Tara with a smile.
****
Heath arrived at his office on Monday more determined than ever to learn more about North Shore Central. It was important to him, because it was important to Tara. She was obviously very devoted to her father, and he’d worked there for years. While in some ways the fact that it had been in operation so long made North Shore Central sound stable, Heath was seasoned enough to know that wasn’t necessarily the case. A lot of smaller banks were going under. He knew this firsthand from the number of failing entities he’d had to rescue by absorbing their assets under his larger corporate wing. It was hard to compete in today’s global economy with the limited assets afforded the more modest institutions.
He looked North Shore Central up online and was struck by the familiarity of its logo. Heath reasoned he’d come across it before; he just couldn’t put his finger on where… Then a small lightbulb went on in a very dark corner of his brain. Before he knew it, it was blazing like the rising sun. “Kristin,” he said, pressing the intercom buzzer on his desk. “Can you bring me the Chancellor file?”
The moment she did, Heath found himself flipping through its pages, even before his assistant had left the room. Each targeted financial institution was already failing and in a state of near-foreclosure. Whether or not they’d shared this dire financial forecast with their existing employees or current stockholders was beyond Heath’s control, and anybody’s guess. The individual bank files were secured by paperclips and arranged in alphabetical order. When Heath got to the Ns, his heart caught in his throat. North Shore Central in Beaumont, Maine, was among the dozens of banks to be put out of business by the end of the year.
Chapter Thirteen
Tara couldn’t wait for Heath to visit Beaumont. Though he’d seemed a bit more preoccupied during their daily phone calls, he’d said that was because he’d been extra busy at work. When Tara had issued her invitation, he’d accepted without reservation, and she’d been overjoyed at the prospect of Heath spending Thanksgiving in Maine. She’d initially worried he wouldn’t want to leave his grandfather, but he’d explained that his mom and dad still arranged to take Lyle to Charlotte for their family gathering each year. Heath was certain the rest of the Wellingtons could carry on without him. In fact, he’d guessed that his granddad would insist on as much. Lyle was plenty taken with Tara, and had made no bones about saying so to Heath.
“I loved meeting your granddad, too,” she said happily into the receiver. Heath had phoned shortly after her store’s opening to double-check with Tara regarding his arrival time later today. He planned to fly into Boston and rent a car from there.
“What can I bring you from Savannah?”
“I didn’t see any when I was there, but I assume you can find pralines?”
“I know a candy shop on River Street that makes them.”
“Will you bring us a box? My dad would find that a treat. I used to bring those to him from New Orleans,” she continued. “He could never get enough!”
Heath laughed in understanding. “Anything else?”
“Just you.” Tara sighed contentedly. “I
can’t believe you’re really coming. I can’t wait to show you around.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“We’re expecting more snow. Dress warmly.”
“I will.” He hesitated a moment before asking, “Tara? Are you sure about the accommodations? I seriously don’t mind booking a hotel.”
“There are no hotels in Beaumont, I’ve told you.” She giggled happily. “You’re absolutely staying with me.”
“But your place is small. You said so yourself.”
“I’ve got a futon.”
“Sounds very…inviting.”
“Stop sounding like a pouty child,” she scolded. “If you don’t want it, I’ll sleep there and you can take my bed.”
“How about we work that out once I get there?”
“Sounds like a plan.” But the image that kept playing in Tara’s mind involved Heath snuggled up with her in her big double bed. She hadn’t wanted to go there yet, but who knew what this weekend would bring? As Tara had barely been able to resist Heath in New York and Savannah, she didn’t know if she could trust her resolve to hold in Beaumont. Her ultra chilly, wintery little town, where howling winds forced couples to huddle together for warmth. Particularly during those long dark nights with snow lightly pinging against the windows and a fire blazing in her woodstove. Tara sighed heavily, realizing she’d been daydreaming ever since ending her call with Heath.
“Going to be that good, huh?” Jeannie asked from behind the checkout counter.
“Shut up.”
“I know you were mooning over him,” Jeannie said, “and thinking about his visit.” She pointedly arched an eyebrow. “There’s going to be a hot time in the old town tonight!”
“He’s sleeping on the futon.”
“Right.”
“Jean-nie!” In spite of herself, Tara’s cheeks colored.
