by Ellie Hall
Billie lost her footing as they rose up over the dunes and he caught her small frame, keeping her from falling, but she shrugged him off. “I swallowed a bug. I didn’t break a leg.”
Even though she was irritable with him, an overwhelming and inexplicable desire washed through him like a warm wave. With her pink cheeks and pleasingly plump lips, he wanted to see her smile. Just once. At that thought, a grin rose to his lips and then just as quickly fell away when they reached the gate to the mansion.
Rhodes drew a deep breath and pressed a series of numbers on the keypad. To his surprise, it opened.
“Know the owners well?” Billie asked around another cough.
“You could say that. But the code was just a guess.” He’d never been to that particular mansion, but to another up north and she’d used the same code—a combination of his sister and his birthdays.
He steeled himself as he wrapped on the door.
A housekeeper answered and blinked a few times. “Well, there’s no denying family resemblance is strong,” she muttered.
She showed them into a sitting room where a massive painting hung over a cold fireplace. It depicted a man that may as well have been the spitting image of Rhodes, well, in a few years. In his mid-thirties, Rhodes’s hair was still dark brown while his grandfather in the painting had started to go white around the temples.
Billie gazed from it to him then back to the painting on the canvas.
He didn’t explain because he wasn’t sure where to start. His family matters were a tangled mess that no one ever talked about.
“What did the cat drag in? Or should I say the sharks,” a familiar voice said from down the hall. Rhodes’s grandmother came into view. Always a woman of style and grace, even if just alone at home, she wore a floral blouse and coordinating slacks. Diamond studs shone on her ears and she had a thick gold necklace around her neck.
Rhodes bent down to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Hi, Memaw.”
“Don’t ‘Hi, Memaw’ me. Give me a proper hug, young man.” Her slight southern accent warmed.
By that, he understood he was forgiven for not visiting sooner, at least for the time being. She’d probably have something to say about it later. Memaw was clever. He wrapped her small, frail frame in a hug. Then again, Memaw’s seeming forgiveness may have something to do with the fact that he brought a guest—not that the women seemed to know each other. The Bishops may have been forthcoming with their private matters, but the Thorpes—on his mother’s side—guarded their affairs with their lives.
Billie coughed again and her eyes were wide as she took in her surroundings. The mansion was a plethora of marble, polished antiques, and old money opulence.
“I see you brought a companion,” Memaw said. Her eyes flew to Billie’s finger where the small stone glinted.
Billie quickly tucked her hands behind her back.
“Rhodes, my only grandson, why didn’t you tell me?” Memaw caressed Billie’s cheek.
She stood there, unmoving.
“She’s beautiful. Keep looking after your skin dear. Be sure to wear sunblock and look both ways before crossing the street. It’s getting a bit wild here in Blue Bay Beach. Not like when I was a girl.” She smiled warmly.
Rhodes introduced them.
“We’ll soon be family so you can call me Memaw.”
Billie coughed.
“She needs water,” Memaw pointed out.
“We were out for a run and she swallowed a bug,” Rhodes explained.
The housekeeper must’ve been nearby and gleaned as much because before Rhodes could find his way to the kitchen, she appeared with a tray and two tall glasses of water.
Billie practically downed the whole thing in one long gulp. She took a deep breath. “That is much better. Thank you.” She didn’t spare him a glance. “Mrs. Thorpe, you mentioned you’ve been coming here to Blue Bay Beach since you were a little girl?”
She nodded.
Rhodes’s brow wrinkled. He practically knew Memaw’s life story and had never heard of Blue Bay Beach until he received word that she’d bought up the mansion property. According to his father, the town was a veritable goldmine. After setting up shop with the intention of developing the land, he was delaying announcing it to his grandmother until it was a sure thing, just in case she’d become attached to the house.
“I have some old photos you might like,” Billie said.
“That would be wonderful, dear.” He noticed her voice was shaky and she wasn’t as strong on her feet as she’d been when he’d last seen her, which he realized hadn’t been for quite a while.
Rhodes took a long sip of his water and caught Billie’s eyes abruptly jerk away as though she’d been watching him and liked what she saw. He smiled inwardly.
“Let’s have a seat, Memaw.” He led them into the nearest sitting room.
“Well, this is such a surprise. Are you staying at the inn in town?” Memaw asked. “Had I known I would’ve made up rooms for the two of you. Now, tell me all your plans.”
Billie’s eyes were still wide.
Rhodes stammered.
“Come on. I want to hear all about the wedding. I knew I’d live to see this day.” Memaw beamed and patted Rhodes on the knee as he lowered into the chair beside her. He brushed his hand over his face in dismay.
Chapter 5
Billie
Billie took off her baseball hat and smoothed her hair, afraid it was a frizzy mess from the run. She’d never been in one of the vast estates on Mansion Mile and slowly settled onto the silk sofa embroidered with faint pink and yellow cherry blossoms. The ceiling was high, making Billie feel small. And what appeared to be a painting of Rhodes in about ten years hung over a massive hearth. The genes on his mother’s side must have been strong—Memaw certainly had character.
To say the mansion was grand was an understatement. Having just barely recovered from the agony and embarrassment of swallowing then choking on a fly, to say she was having a slight crisis, was an equally large understatement. She wasn’t sure where to put her hands or what Mrs. Thorpe meant about wedding plans. Maybe she mistook her for Rhodes’s girlfriend? Fiancé?
He sat beside her, taking up space, robbing the room of air, and heating it at least a hundred degrees even though the house had climate control. The sun had set, lowering the temperature to a modest Floridian summer evening of about eighty, but beside Rhodes, her skin was hot all over.
“Alright, let’s hear all about it, kids.” Memaw crowed. “I’m so excited. I’d been praying you’d find true love, Rhodesy.”
Billie, usually comfortable with herself and in her environment, felt as out of place as a dolphin in a china shop—they could easily do as much damage as a bull. And it seemed the damage, or mistake about the ring on her finger, had been done.
Rhodes’s grandmother looked so hopeful as she sat tall and proper in a chair that matched the sofa while waiting to hear the wonderful, but fake news about their pending union. He was the last person she’d ever say I do to. It was more like I don’t.
She didn’t like the way he took over a room, or town, like he owned the place.
She didn’t like his business of paving resorts over perfectly good places.
She didn’t like that he’d witnessed her nearly choke to death on a fly.
She didn’t like that he’d helped her.
She didn’t like his cocky smile.
She sighed. Okay, maybe she liked his smile a little bit. There was just something so alluring about his lips. But that wasn’t the point.
Rhodes’s eyes flicked to her.
“It’s unlikely Scarlett will marry so you have no idea how pleased I am to know at least one of my grandbabies will get a happily ever after. You know that Rhodes, your grandfather and namesake, was a wonderful man and would be so thrilled to see you happy at last.”
“It’s not like that—” he started to say.
“Like what?” Memaw asked. “Tell me what it’s like. I
do love living vicariously. There’s a mini-series on the Hallmark channel...” She went on to describe her favorite show set in a small mountain town.
“I watch it too,” Billie confessed.
Rhodes shifted uncomfortably beside her as though he might catch cooties from the mushy description of romance.
“I think Tracy and August should get together. They make the perfect couple,” Billie said, referring to the show.
“I think they’ll get their happy ending for sure,” Memaw confirmed. She had a faint southern accent. “Don’t keep me in suspense any longer. Tell me all about your happy ending. No, wait. This is just the beginning.” Memaw had all the enthusiasm of a teen girl with her first crush.
Billie bit the inside of her cheek.
Rhodes gazed at his hands, hanging between his knees as he leaned forward with his elbows resting on them.
When they’d arrived at the house, Billie had thought that maybe the old woman was senile, but she was focused, alert, and gave no signs that she was confused or mistook Billie’s identity.
The room was uncomfortably silent so Billie said, “I grew up here, in Blue Bay Beach. Rhodes and I met here, actually. I own the Coconut Cove Café. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you there.”
Memaw lit up. “I don’t get out much these days, but the canasta gals and I order a pie when we play cards and Esther, the housekeeper, gets take away for me once a week.”
“Wait. Hold on,” Billie said. “Let me guess. Your order is the Rueben sandwich with extra pickles and three servings of Bimini bread.”
“Yes. That’s me. I freeze the bread and eat a slice with my tea every morning. How rude of me. Where are my manners? Would you like to stay for dinner? Esther can make you something.”
“No, no. We don’t want to be any trouble, Memaw,” Rhodes said politely.
A jolt ran through Billie at the word we as if he were referring to them actually being a couple.
“In fact, we should get going,” he said.
Billie jolted again.
“Are you okay, dear?” Memaw asked.
Billie reached for the water. “I’m fine.”
“If you won’t join me for dinner, stay a little longer. I still want to hear the exciting story of your courtship and all about your wedding plans.”
Billie cleared her throat, trying to steer them out of awkward territory and maybe focus the target on Rhodes. “You mentioned you’ve been coming here since you were a girl. I’d love to hear more about that. My father, Frank Fisher, came here in 1951 and never left.”
“Frank Fisher is your father? Oh my.” She blushed. “He opened the restaurant. Forgive me for not making the connection. He was quite the catch. I always envied Priscilla.”
“What about Papaw?” Rhodes asked, aghast.
“I envied her before I met your grandfather.” Memaw straightened a bit and delved into her memory, recounting stories of bonfires on the beach, dances, and even a tale about a drag race. Clearly, she was as sharp as a tack.
The stories carried Billie into the past when she was a girl and her father would reminisce. In many ways, Memaw reminded her of Betty. But tears sprung to her eyes because as much as Frank liked to take trips down memory lane, it always upset him to think about the love he’d lost. So much so that he’d work extra-long hours to distract himself from his pain.
“You will definitely have to show me the old photos sometime. Who knows, I may be in one of them.” Memaw’s smile doubled.
Rhodes’s jaw tightened and he cut Billie a look she couldn’t read.
Memaw leaned in. “Rhodes Senior, your grandfather, would’ve loved it here. I think he’s happy, looking down at me content in my little house, puttering around in the garden, having the girls over for canasta, and falling asleep to the soft sound of waves. You just never know, one of these days I won’t wake up, but I’ll have lived a good life. Even more so now that I know you met a lovely young lady, Rhodesy.” She turned to Billie. “Now, dear, tell me more about how my grandson proposed. He’s always been rather big for his britches and I’d like to hear about how he softened up.”
Billie opened and closed her mouth unable to think quickly enough to explain.
Rhodes leaned back on the sofa and extended his legs as though getting comfortable and settling in for the story.
The older woman leaned in, eager.
Billie couldn’t, wouldn’t lie, but also didn’t want to disappoint Mrs. Thorpe.
“Memaw. It’s not like that,” Rhodes said at last.
“Then tell me what it’s like, Rhodes. I want to hear all about how you met. When you proposed. The whole kit and caboodle.” Her words were slightly clipped as though her patience was wearing thin.
He cleared his throat. “Like Billie said we met at the restaurant.”
She wasn’t sure what to say next so she simply told the truth. “Actually, I asked him on a date.”
Rhodes turned toward her a measure and his eyebrow lifted.
“You didn’t ask me; you wrote it on the order slip.”
“Same thing,” Billie said.
“Not really. Speaking and writing are two very different mediums.”
“Fine, but it was because my coworkers dared me to.” Billie pressed her lips together.
“And you didn’t want to.”
Memaw’s eyes widened as though intrigued by the potential drama.
“Not really. I mean. Don’t get me wrong, Rhodes is a decent looking guy, successful by some people’s estimates, but—”
He turned sharply to Billie. “Decent looking? Really? You think I’m just decent looking?”
Apparently, he knew he was devastatingly handsome, but wasn’t willing to say as much.
“Just like his grandfather,” Memaw said.
Billie played with a loose string on her tank top. “Yeah. I mean, you’re fit, tan, take care of yourself...” Her eyes slowly lifted to meet his.
They were smoldering. Burning into her. Daring her to admit that she thought he was more than just decent looking. She hated that he knew that about her and about himself. Because the truth was... “Fine, you’re the most handsome guy I have ever seen. There’s depth to your eyes, a hidden sadness and vulnerability that scares me because I’d like to believe that you’re just superficial, just chasing money. It’s easier to put you in that box. But you surprised me by defying my expectations. Your lips terrify me because they’re just so perfect. And something happens to my body chemistry every time I hear that growly, smoky voice of yours.” She couldn’t believe she said all of that out loud and in front of Mrs. Thorpe no less. Her cheeks heated.
Memaw leaned back, pressed her hand to her chest, and said, “Oh, my. This is better than my mini-series.”
Rhodes shot Billie a look.
“Don’t mind me. Carry on. Rhodes, what do you think of Billie? You know, it’s really best to get all of this out before you walk down the aisle. To tell the truth about how you really feel. In fact, the pastor in town offers pre-marital counseling if you’re interested.”
Rhodes got to his feet and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “What do I think of Billie?” He rubbed his chin. “To start, when I first saw her, I thought she was cute and then I realized that she’s pretty, which makes her beautiful. She has intelligent, sparkling, knowing eyes that I can’t stop thinking about. But she’s just a bit too feisty for her own good. What was it you said, Memaw, about me being too big for my britches, well, Billie is too. Takes one to know one. But at the same time. She’s very short.” His expression was of smug victory.
Billie sprung to her feet and folded her arms across her chest. “I am not short. I’m of average height.”
They stood in front of the fireplace, facing off.
He glared down at her, but beyond that, she saw something in his eyes she wanted to draw out. She wanted to make them light up. She wanted to see them blaze like a fire in the hearth. Nonetheless, Billie squared her shoulders, not backing down.
Memaw sighed. “Your grandfather was afraid of his feelings too, at first. Over time, he softened. Rhodes, take a seat, please. You too, Billie.”
They did as ordered.
“I see that you’re both very passionate individuals. It’s normal to have mixed feelings, but you see, it’s the differences you see in each other that will help balance you out. To temper the flame as it were. Now, I’d like you to take each other’s hands.”
Rhodes tilted his head at an I don’t think so degree.
Memaw cast a glare that made Billie scramble for his fingers. She nudged her chin as if to suggest let’s just indulge your grandmother and get this over with.
He adjusted his position on the couch and they faced each other, holding hands.
Billie’s were cold, but he warmed them. His grip was tight at first but then lightened. Likely because her hands looked so small next to his like if he held on too tight, he could snap her bones.
“Each of you take a deep breath. Then when you exhale, look into each other’s eyes.” Memaw’s voice was gentle yet commanding.
Billie could hardly tear her gaze from his hands, but she felt his searing into her and lifted her chin. Her eyes were drawn down to his lips, but she pulled them up when Memaw insisted they hold eye contact.
Rhodes’s chest rose and fell as if he’d only just then stopped running. Billie took shallow little sips of air because her heart was racing ahead.
Staring into his eyes like that was arresting and made her feel vulnerable. Again, she wanted to look away. He seemed to want to do the same, but Memaw swatted him lightly, reminding him to focus.
“You’ve done a lot of outstanding things in your life, young man, it shouldn’t be too much to ask to gaze longingly into your fiancé’s eyes.”
He breathed a long exhale then returned his focus to Billie’s blue eyes.
