by Barbara Lohr
“Nothing much. I hate to complain,” Harper said cautiously. Tybee wasn’t exactly Savannah, but these ladies all knew each other.
“But clearly something is bothering you inside. Until you let that bitch out, she is going to tear you apart. Come on, honey. Tell Julep all about it.” Her fingers beckoned.
Feeling like she was in one of those musty confessionals at St. Edmund’s Church back home, she relented. “Two of my clients demanded huge changes this morning—not that they aren’t allowed to do that. I want them to be happy, but time is getting short. A lot of these items are special orders. And the decorations are supposed to go up the weekend of Thanksgiving. Thank goodness Cameron and I decided to stay in town for the holiday. We have so much to do.”
“That sure as hellfire is not right.” Julep heaved herself up until she was sitting in the hammock.
Harper leaned forward, concerned her pregnant friend might spill right out of that fancy, fringed hammock. “Christmas is just, what, five weeks away? If they keep changing things, Santa might not be able to fill their stockings.” She giggled, picturing the expressions on her clients’ faces if she told them that.
But even as they chortled together, Harper knew it was serious. Knew her reputation was on the line. Didn’t matter. The two of them shrieked with abandon. Lordy, it felt so good. By the time they quieted down, Harper was wiping tears from her eyes. “I have to give them what they want or my reputation will be trashed. If that means paying rush charges, I’ll do it.”
“Please, Harper. If you are going to trash your reputation, do it in a more colorful way. One I'll enjoy repeating.” Julep wiggled her eyebrows, and they collapsed into laughter again.
For a little while, they lounged and sipped, the only sound the distant slap of restless waves and the cawing of seagulls. The sandy beach came right up to the Tucker house. During low tide, you could walk out to Little Tybee Island from here. When the tide was high, well, that would frighten Harper a little. If you lost track of time, you could be stuck out there or be prepared to swim.
But she was here on business, and it was way too cool for swimming. Setting her glass down, Harper got ready for her pitch, snapping the elastic from the portfolio.
“Let’s see what you got.” Julep’s eyes brightened. “I don’t know if I’m up to entertaining this year, but I sure do want this house to look pretty.” Of course, the sprawling two-story beach house was already fabulous.
For the next thirty minutes, Julep oohed and aahed as Harper spread out the sketches on the porch, using some of Julep’s white rock collection to hold them down. How Harper had loved working with this plan. Julep had asked for a lowcountry, coastal touch. Boy, she got it. Seahorses, shells and starfish were intertwined with yards and yards of garland, the fresh expensive kind. “I can almost smell that pine right now, Harper.”
Turning to the sketch of the Christmas tree, Harper pointed. “And then I thought we’d take palmetto leaves, tie them just so. I’ll spray them with silver and tuck them on the mantle and into your tree branches.”
Julep clapped her hands together. “Brilliant, Harper. Oh, won’t Tuck be pleased?”
“This might please him more.” Pointing to blowups of some of the ornaments, Harper called attention to the baby booties, bibs and teething rings, all presented in the right color combinations. “I tried to stay away from blue or pink...you know.”
“So you chose aqua and green. I love it.” Julep looked positively transfixed. The hurt that had dogged Harper since morning dissipated. As she explained the concept, she couldn’t help thinking back to the beautiful lime green and aqua color scheme Georgina had kicked to the curb. “Could you just hold on one minute, Julep? Be right back.”
Sitting back, Julep smiled. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”
But it didn’t take long for Harper to grab one of the other portfolios. “One of my morning clients didn’t care for this...” As she spun the color samples onto the table, Julep snatched them up.
“Someone didn’t want this? Oh, Harper.” Holding out a length of shimmery aqua ribbon, Julep looked positively entranced. “Who, if I may ask?”
Harper sighed. “Georgina Darlington.”
“Well, of course. Pay her no mind.” Her eyebrows wiggled. “Her loss will be my gain.”
Yep, the day had turned around.
Then it was on to the mantles and doors.
Julep studied everything Harper had brought with pure appreciation. “You are a magician. What would I do without you? Just when I was having trouble getting inspired this year.”
Driving back to Savannah, Harper felt soothed by Julep’s approval. Her day had run longer than usual, and Bella would be home from school. She’d texted Connie, asking her to pick up Bella.
What had Cameron said about his schedule? Was he working late tonight? She sure hoped not. What she needed right now was a good hug with hopes of more to come. He’d put so many hours into the holiday plans for Broughton Street, plus trying to finish the renovation of the Buchanan house. The family wanted to be in by Christmas, but they kept making changes. Cameron would understand why her day had been so upsetting, and she couldn’t wait to tell him about shifting the original ideas for the Darlingtons to Julep and Tuck. Her mood rose as she drove over the causeway near Thunderbolt, admiring the yachts moored below.
In so many ways, Cameron and Harper were a team. Her body hummed when she thought about winding her arms around Cameron’s neck and telling him about her day. He’d kiss her, rub her back and reassure her. Would this crazy obsession with him ever get old? It sure hadn’t for her parents. Cameron was everything she’d never dreamed of–– a southern gentleman who was so hot, she sizzled when he glanced her way.
Dusk was falling when she pulled into the garage. But his car wasn’t there. She was late, and usually he was home by this time. Turning off the car, she sat in the darkness. After all the trouble they’d worked through with Bella and her eating issues, Cameron knew how important it was to be on time for dinner. That wasn’t like him. A shiver iced her spine.
Chapter 3
Leaving her portfolios for later, Harper dashed through the side garden and raced up the steps to the kitchen door. The summer flowers were gone, but Jack had planted some pansies and pink kale in the flower beds. The fragrant spring wisteria? Now only gnarly stalks twisted along the wrought iron railings that edged the verandas.
“I’m home,” she sang out, coming through the back door. Connie, their housekeeper, was busy cutting carrots at the sink, and the smell of a roast filled the air.
“Cameron’s not home?” Harper asked casually.
“Not yet.” The housekeeper glanced over and smiled. “Busy day?” Connie had been Harper's ally from her first day on the job.
“Terrible until my last call.” She hooked her purse on the chair. Banshee screams came from the TV room, and she exchanged a look with Connie, who merely shrugged. They'd never had any luck switching Bella over to Sesame Street. She preferred her Ninja shows.
Coming closer, Connie said in a low voice, “Ask her about school.”
“Why? Did something happen?” An alarm bell sounded in Harper’s head.
After wiping her hands on her apron, the housekeeper whisked a small, pink slip from the counter and handed it over. “You’re supposed to call. The principal, no less.”
Heart sinking, Harper studied the perfect Palmer penmanship. “At your earliest convenience, please call me,” Mrs. Powers wrote. At the top of the note, she’d scrawled Cameron Bennett and underlined it. Oh, poor Bella. Now what? Tucking the slip into her purse, Harper sauntered toward the TV room. At least she could see what this was all about before Cameron got home. Sometimes news like this needed some diffusing before it moved on up the line. Although Bella had made a lot of progress, they still hit hiccups along the way. Harper liked to make them less painful for Cameron.
“Hi, Bella.” Trying to sound upbeat and failing, she asked, “Whatcha doing?”
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br /> “Nothing.” Half hanging off the long kidney bean-shaped sofa, Bella was intent on the screen where super powers warred with each other. Next to her lay Pipsqueak, their adorable mutt. Although she’d lick Bella now and then, the dog was coming in a far second. The little girl loved the super heroes and gave her pet little response. When Pipsqueak wriggled closer, Bella ran a hand over her chocolate fur, but that was about it. “When will Daddy be home?”
Casting an eye back at the closed kitchen door, Harper felt her stomach wrench. Dusk was falling, making the light over the back door even brighter. Where was Cameron? She had almost a psychic connection to the man and something felt off. Her skin crawled. But Bella didn’t need to know that. “Soon. I guess. We’re having a roast. Doesn’t that sound good?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Connie’s making those burned sugar carrots you like.”
Another shake of the head. “Not for me.”
The words sent Harper into free fall. Please, not now when everything is so busy. But their holiday wedding wasn’t the little girl’s fault. Perching on the edge of the sofa, Harper said, “Want to tell me what happened at school today?”
With an exaggerated sigh, Bella heaved herself up. In the process, she leaned on Pipsqueak’s paw. With a yelp, the dog leapt down and, with an aggrieved backward glance, trotted toward the kitchen.
“Sorry, Pipsqueak,” Bella called out in that nasal tone she had from her allergies. Was Harper imagining that the air felt heavy with dread? Her family didn't call her the drama queen for nothing. Gnawing at her thumbnail, Harper wanted to clear this up before Cameron got home. Grabbing the remote, she turned the sound down. Bella swung her allergy-smudged eyes up to meet hers.
“Why did the principal send a note home?”
“I don’t know.” Bella pulled at the neck of her pink-striped shirt, a familiar nervous gesture.
“Bella, honey? What happened? Did you have to stay after school?”
A serious shake of the head. “Nope. I stayed in from recess.” She studied her pink tennis shoes.
Harper’s heart pinched. “Can you help me understand why the principal wants us to call her?”
“I don’t know. Just because…” Her lower lip trembled.
The little girl’s misery swept Harper back to a time she’d rather not think about. Bella had been a problem child when Harper signed on as her nanny with absolutely no qualifications. It was take this job or go back to wintry Chicago a failure. Again.
At that time, Bella refused to eat, and Cameron was about out of his mind with worry. But they’d worked through it, giving Harper renewed hope in her own skills. Then a day like today would come, and she just wanted to shave her head.
What she really wanted right now was a hot shower, but she didn't want Cameron to be blindsided by a school problem. “Bella? I’m going to sit right here until I hear the whole story, no matter how long it takes.” Ease back, girl. Even she could hear the threatening tone in her voice. This day had been rotten, but she didn’t want to take it out on Bella. “Please? Please tell me about school.”
Her eyes welling with tears, Bella gave a heartbreaking sigh. “I hid in the bathroom. They couldn’t find me. Mrs. Davenport got really mad so she told the principal. They were going to call the police.” Her eyes grew bigger. “Would they really do that, Harper?”
Smoothing one hand over Bella’s wiry hair, she shook her head. “I doubt it, sweetheart.” Wouldn’t that be just great? That’s all Cameron needed was to get a call from the school telling him Bella was missing. “You probably scared the daylights out of them, though. Why were you hiding?”
The troubled, dark eyes Bella turned on Harper held a day full of hurt. “I’m sorry, Harper. I didn’t mean to be bad, but the girls were mean to me.” If she tugged any harder on that shirt, it would become a V-neck.
“Yes but hiding makes other people worry. What if your daddy had gotten a call?”
The tears spilled over, trailing slowly down Bella’s cheeks. This called for some cuddle time. Pulling Bella back onto the sofa and into her arms, Harper spooned behind her while super heroes collided on the screen. Didn’t take long for their breathing to sync. That was important with Bella since she also had asthma. Tucking Bella’s head under her chin, Harper wanted to shield her from the world. Meanwhile, Pipsqueak pattered back into the room and bounced up to settle at their feet. A sense of calm returned.
So what if two of her clients weren’t happy? So they hated her ideas. All that hardly mattered compared to the misery she held in her arms right now. “Want to tell me about it, sweetie?” She smoothed back’s Bella curls that tangled no matter how much conditioner they applied.
“Tiffany said my hair was a rat's nest.” Well. A tiny smile pried at Harper’s lips. But this was serious. Gently working through the stubborn knots, she kept stroking.
“You know, Bella, we can’t do anything about what people say, but we can control what we do.” How Harper wished she could follow that advice. “When Tiffany said that— and it was really rude, don’t get me wrong––what did you do?”
“I yanked her hair as hard as I could.” Clenching her hands, Bella smiled. Harper fought hard to contain her chuckle. Kids were so open and honest. How she would have loved to pull Georgina and Brittany’s perfect hair that morning.
But she had to stay in her adult world. And on days like today? Really hard. “Do you think that fixed anything?”
“Nope. The principal said I better think about consequences.” Her head pivoted back. “Harper, what are consequences?”
Irritation prickled across Harper’s chest. At least Mrs. Powers could use words small people could understand. “Things happen as a result of something else. You and your dad were such great people that I fell in love with both of you.”
A small hand reached up to pat her cheek. “Oh, I like that consequence.”
Harper gave a dry chuckle. “Here’s another one. If I come up with an idea that no one likes, well, then the consequence is that nobody will buy it.”
“Oh, Harper. Everybody always loves what you do.”
Uh huh, right. Don’t I just wish.
“Thank you, sweetie.” By this time, Harper was rubbing Bella’s back in a circular motion that always seemed to calm her. They were in a total mess here, and she felt the need to fix it. The truth was, she would have done the same thing when she was Bella’s age, when her reddish hair stuck out all over. Talk about a rat’s nest. She would have smacked that girl for her mean words and been glad to pay the price.
But Bella was more vulnerable. She didn’t have the big, rowdy Kirkpatrick family to back her with older brothers. Mouth trembling, Bella whispered, “Do you think Daddy will be mad?”
Harper didn’t even want to go there. Cameron thought his little girl walked on water. “I think Daddy might be concerned, Bella. He wants you to be happy. And we want you to get along with other kids. Sometimes that’s hard. When I was your age, I pushed a girl named Marjorie off a swing one time.”
Bella’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “How come?”
“I wanted that swing.” Harper chuckled, remembering. “Marjorie had it for over ten minutes, which was the rule on the playground.”
“Did your dad get mad?”
How should she phrase this? Looking back, she remembered how Big Mike, as everyone called him, had laughed. Chief of the Oak Park Fire Department, her father was more an eye-for-an-eye type of guy. “My mother said I had to go over and apologize. That was hard. I hated doing it.”
“Boy, I bet.” Bella’s soul-searching glance held respect. Even Pipsqueak seemed to be hanging on her words, panting. “Will you talk to Daddy for me?”
“Yep, you bet. He’ll probably be the one to call Mrs. Powers.” She was always careful when it came to roles with Bella. After all, she wasn’t officially Bella’s mother in the world’s eyes, not yet. Cameron was the parent listed on all the paperwork. She handed Bella the remote. “Think
I’ll see how Connie’s doing with dinner.”
As she sat up, her ears strained to hear the sound of the back door opening. What time was it anyway? Outside the plantation shutters, everything was pitch dark. Oh, where was Cameron?
She was starting to worry as she slipped into the kitchen, where Connie stirred the sugar-burned carrots. “Gee those smell good.” Coming closer, Harper sniffed the steam rising from the large frying pan. Cooking had never been her strong suit, and she was always happy with Connie’s efforts.
“All fixed?” Connie asked, pushing back curls that were more gray than blonde.
“Kind of. Some hair tugging going on at school.”
“Little girls can be so mean.” Her lips tightened in disapproval.
“Right. Once she started first grade, the group seemed to change. A different mix.”
Connie’s shoulders lifted. “Next year, let’s invite the whole class to Bella’s birthday party again.”
“Great idea. We had such a good time last year.” She lowered her voice. “Anything to help Bella. Her social skills need some tweaking.” Harper knew all about that.
Going to the window over the sink, she pulled back the eyelet curtain and stared at the light over the garage. “Why hasn't Cameron called?”
Connie cast an eye on the clock. “It's not that late.”
“But this isn’t like him. He usually lets us know if he’ll be late. He knows how important meals are.” Taking out her cell phone, she called him. The darn phone rang for what felt like the longest time. With each ring, her stomach twisted tighter. When his voicemail came on, she waited. “Just me, wondering where you are. Love you.” Ending the call, she pressed the phone against her lips. Her concern was probably silly, and she didn’t want to alarm Bella.
“Dinner in ten minutes?” She turned to Connie.
