by Mille West
“I see you finished the University of Virginia with degrees in journalism and art.” Cooper nodded his head as he read her biography.
“Yes sir. I’ve been with Harry’s agency for the last four years.”
“Very good,” Cooper said as he continued to look over her creations. When he finished, he looked up and their eyes locked. “Mills, I think your work is excellent. You’ve shown clever ingenuity on your projects.”
“Thank you, Mr. Heath.”
They spent more than two hours at lunch, but before they finished, Cooper told Harry that he would like him to attend his annual oyster roast, which would be held the first Saturday in February. “I had considered not having it this year, but so many people inquired that I decided to go forward with it. After all, the donations from the oyster roast do fund scholarships.”
Harry looked at his watch before saying, “Thank you for the invitation, Cooper. Unfortunately, I have an appointment in an hour. I must go.”
As they retrieved their coats, Cooper told Mills, “I have some time before my next meeting. Would you like to take a walk?”
Mills nodded, and Harry embraced his friend saying, “Please know that I’ve been praying for you and Elise.”
“Thank you, Harry,” Cooper quietly responded before Harry departed.
Even though she wore high heels and a fitted business suit, Mills wanted to know more about him and decided to join him for a walk. Cooper helped with her overcoat before putting on his, and they left the restaurant.
Madison Avenue bustled with holiday shoppers and they stopped in front of a jewelry store that displayed an extravagant collection of diamonds in the window. Inside the business, they saw a couple looking at rings. The woman held her hand out in front of her, admiring a ring that her companion had placed on her finger, and then she leaped into his arms. He held her tightly as they slowly rotated together.
“Looks like someone’s just been made very happy,” Cooper observed.
“Yes, it certainly looked that way to me too,” Mills commented as they resumed their walk.
They stopped for a cup of coffee at a vendor’s cart near Central Park, and Cooper removed his Wayfarer sunglasses and looked attentively into her eyes. “What was the newspaper article about where you saw my picture?”
“It was an article in The New York Times about you and your missing wife.”
“There have been many newspaper articles about me in recent months, but I’m not familiar with that one.”
“Mr. Heath, I—”
“No, it’s okay, Mills, a number of people have passed judgment on me. They believe that I am involved in my wife’s disappearance. I promise you, I did not harm her.”
“I have not judged you, but why are you hiring a director for your educational foundation from outside the Charleston area? I’m sure there are qualified candidates in South Carolina.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I wanted to work with an individual who would not judge me on the negative information that has been in the regional news for the last several months.”
“I see—anyway, Harry vouched for you.”
He gazed at her briefly and then signaled for a taxi. “I’m sorry, but I must go. Please think over what we’ve discussed. I’ll be in Charleston next week, and I hope to hear from you. Where would you like to go now?”
“I’d like to return to my office.”
Cooper gave instructions to the driver and before she left, he warmly shook her hand. When the taxi reached her destination, she asked the driver what she owed. He replied, “Miss, your companion already paid me. Thank you, and have a good afternoon.”
When she entered the office, Harry asked, “How did you like Cooper?”
“I thought he was candid and very charming. Harry, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile as much as you did at lunch today. ”
“Cooper won’t show it, but I know he has been very depressed. I just want to cheer him up, if that’s possible—have you decided what you’re going to do?”
“Yes, I’d like to accept the position with the Heath Foundation. Mr. Heath asked me to call him next week.”
Harry’s expression was unreadable. “Just remember—you always have a job here if things don’t work out.”
“Thank you, Harry.”
Mills accepted the position with the Heath Foundation the following week. She had familiarized herself with the job expectations from the foundation file, and she and Cooper worked out final details over the phone. The job offer included free lodging at a townhome Cooper owned in downtown Charleston, but he explained there was also a cottage on the Heath Farm where she could reside—it was her choice.
Mills spent Christmas at her mother’s house in Virginia and she had a difficult time convincing her mother and sister that her decision to accept the job with the Heath Foundation was a sound one. She reminded both of them that Cooper was not under arrest. Inquiries into what Mills thought of Cooper led her to describe him as sincere and charming. Her sister, Vivien, who was two years older than Mills, reminded her that Ted Bundy had lured his victims with charm. Based on Harry Foster’s judgment, her mother, Rebecca, eventually agreed with Mills’s decision to move to Charleston. She believed that Harry possessed a high moral character; his unwavering confidence in his friend was the persuading factor in her decision.
On the day after New Year’s, before 6 a.m., Mills began her drive from Virginia to South Carolina. When she turned on her car radio, the first song that played was “Cast Your Fate to the Wind.”
As she drove south, the day was stunningly clear. The weather was similar to the day when she had met Cooper in New York. As she thought of the events of the last few weeks, Harry’s gentle warnings came to mind. “Mills, while Cooper is a straight arrow, I’m afraid you might encounter some people in his social circle who don’t share his moral convictions. I don’t want you to go down there and get involved with . . .” She had been tickled by his fatherly advice.
Lastly, he’d said, “I just want you to be the success that I know you can be—don’t ever forget that.”
Harry had been fair with her, but Mills thought she was about to accept a worthwhile challenge that could help other people. She understood the importance of scholarship programs for people who lacked the financial resources to attend college—she had attended college on an academic scholarship while working part-time in one of the school’s cafeterias.
Her thoughts wandered to her own father who had died at age forty-two, following a massive coronary. He had not been overweight, but lean and fit, which made his life-ending heart attack harder to understand. Both of his daughters had inherited tall, slender frames from his side of the family, but resembled their mother, Rebecca, with large, dark eyes and thick, brunette hair that curled into waves when allowed to dry naturally.
Mills did not want to disappoint her mother. She was the kind of woman who had made sacrifices in order to ensure her daughters received the best education and had every opportunity for success. Rebecca had grown up during the Depression, which caused her to exercise caution in money matters. However, she generously tried to give the best to her daughters. She always told Mills and Vivien
, “The first part of achieving your goals is to see yourself there. If there’s anything you want in life, you’d better go and get it.”
Out of respect for their mother, both Mills and her sister strived to do their best in school and were not the type to misbehave. Mills loved a challenge and was always the top fundraiser for school projects and charities. She felt that the directorship for the Heath Foundation was a natural fit for her and that it was her opportunity to help others succeed. It helped that Cooper had been intent on hiring her after he learned of her educational background.
By the middle of the afternoon, she had reached Alston Station, located in the western portion of Charleston County. As she neared the community, she noted the surroundings were sparsely developed with numerous waterways and marsh areas. Her first impression was that it was more of a village than a town, with a mercantile named Dawkins Market, a post office, a couple of antique stores, and several lovely houses built along the Edisto River. Enormous live oaks, drenched in Spanish moss, lined the sandy streets and filled the yards. Several brick buildings no longer housed businesses, but Mills thought that they must have been used as warehouses during the days of cotton production. Cooper had explained that the town was named after a prominent Southern family, which included a former governor, and was used as a loading post on the Edisto for rice and later cotton. These staples, which produced Southern wealth, were shipped to Charleston and then to the north or overseas.
Mills drove down a sandy lane to Cooper’s property. His farm bordered the south branch of the Edisto River and she found that the low terrain was thickly overgrown with scrub palms. She passed over a bridge with a plaque that read “Simmons Creek,” but it was hard to tell that a creek was there, as the entire area looked more like a dark-colored marsh.
She continued driving down the lane and a large area of fenced-in land appeared on either side of the road. Part of the property was a pasture, but a large portion had been plowed and appeared to be set aside for crops. When she reached Cooper’s address, she turned her Volkswagen down a tree-lined drive where she saw an old barn and a stately horse stable. At the end of the lane, surrounded by live oak trees, was a raised cottage with a muted silver-colored roof. In front of the home, a courtyard displayed a fountain with a cherub holding a torch. Water cascaded out of the torch into a lower brick fountain base, which was surrounded by miniature boxwoods.
Parking her car in front of the courtyard, Mills climbed the steps to his front door. She felt nervous for the first time and took a deep breath. Wind chimes on the porch sounded a gentle resonance of blended tones in the breeze. In fact, the only sounds she could hear were the harmonious tones of the chimes and the water cascading from the fountain.
Old gas lanterns were situated on either side of the double doors. She took another deep breath and rang the doorbell. Within a few moments, Mills heard the footfalls of someone approaching the doorway. When the door opened, an older woman with a round face, graying hair, and a radiant smile appeared in the threshold. Her face showed few wrinkles and Mills knew immediately that she was Cooper’s housekeeper, Marian. During one of her conversations with Cooper, he had mentioned Marian and her son, Charles, who managed his farm.
“Are you Miss Taylor?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m Marian Sullivan. We’ve been expecting you. Please come inside.”
In the foyer, Mills glanced around appreciatively at the opulent setting. In the center of the room was a stunning, antique mahogany table; on it, a delicate glass hurricane lamp engraved with tropical birds and foliage took center stage. And above this was an ornate crystal chandelier hanging from a decorated plaster ceiling.
“Let me take your coat,” said Marian. “Cooper is out on the farm this afternoon doing repair work to some damaged fence wire. Why don’t you come into the kitchen and I’ll fix you some tea—oh, forgive me, do you need to freshen up first?”
“No, ma’am, I’m fine.”
Mills followed her into the kitchen, looking into the rooms as she passed. Most of the decorating was done in a West Indies furniture style that complemented the design of the home.
“Mr. Heath’s home is lovely.”
“I agree. I’d show you around but I’m sure he’d like to do that himself.” Marian put on the tea kettle and offered Mills a seat at the kitchen island.
She smiled again before asking, “How was your trip from Virginia?”
“The driving conditions were good, but it’s been extremely cold.”
“Down here too.”
When the tea was ready, Marian poured the steaming water over the tea bags and handed Mills a cup. Within a few moments, the front door opened and Marian called out, “Cooper, Miss Taylor and I are in the kitchen.”
“Please call me Mills,” she told Marian.
Cooper entered the kitchen and extended his right hand for a handshake. “Welcome Mills. I apologize that I was not here to greet you in person, but I see that you and Marian had the chance to meet.”
“Cooper, would you like some hot tea?” Marian interjected.
“Thank you, Marian. I’m going to show Mills into the study. Would you bring the tea in there, please?”
“I’d be glad to.”
Cooper helped Mills with a chair in the study and then sat down behind his desk. He looked at her warmly, studying her face. “I hope your trip from New York was a pleasant one.”
“Yes, it was. I visited with my mother and sister in Virginia over Christmas. It was nice to see them.”
Marian brought in a cup of tea for Cooper and he thanked her as she left the room. “What would you like to do first, see the cottage or discuss business?”
“Let’s first go over business.”
He handed her a file that had “Oyster Roast Fundraiser” written on it.
“This is the invitation list for the oyster roast and I’m afraid that I’m behind this year. Information on the printing company that I use for the invitations is in here. Don’t worry. I’ve already made arrangements with White Point Catering to handle the oyster roast, and I’ve written the contact name inside the file.” He sat silently for a moment. “I really didn’t want to hold the oyster roast this year, without Elise, but donations from guests to the scholarship fund have proved very helpful in the past.”
Mills nodded sympathetically. As he spoke to her, Mills noticed the photograph of a beautiful woman with wavy, golden hair on the shelf behind him. She knew immediately the photo was of Elise Heath, but her attention was quickly drawn back to Cooper.
“This file contains the names of students who are actively involved in the scholarship program, a list of possible donors, and contact information on Dr. Frances Warren with the Charleston County school system. Her assistance has proved to be invaluable, and I believe you’ll enjoy working with her.”
Mills glanced back at the photo of the lovely woman on the shelf behind Cooper’s desk, and he seemed to notice the photograph had captivated Mills’s eyes. He picked up the frame and said quietly, “This is Elise.”
“She’s very beautiful.”
He appeared tense as he placed the photograph back on the shelf. “Thank you.” Rising from behind his desk, Co
oper helped Mills with her chair and said, “Please allow me to show you around.”
Walking back into the foyer, he began to tell her about the house. “My parents purchased this property in the 1950s. As far as we know, the house was built in the 1870s by a northern investor named Samuel Atkinson. When my parents bought the property, the house was in disrepair and it took several years to restore it. I spent most of my summers here as a boy.”
On the living room walls were several gorgeous paintings of Low Country scenes. “Your paintings are lovely.”
“Thank you. All of the artwork was done locally. There are very talented artists in Charleston.”
Beside the fireplace was a carved wooden cane leaning against a corner. The top of the staff was carved in the shape of an African woman’s face, her hair flowing back to form the handle.
“What an exceptional piece of woodwork. Would it be all right if I held the cane?” Mills asked.
“Yes, go right ahead. It was carved by a past relative of mine.”
Mills studied the carved handle with care before remarking, “Her features are so delicate.”
“George Camp was the craftsman, and he possessed a rare talent. He carved this piece during the American Civil War.”
As Mills returned the cane to its resting place, she glanced up at a painting above the fireplace. “Who is the lady in the portrait?”
“Julia, my mother.”
“She was an elegant woman.”
“Thank you. She was very ill during the last few years of her life. I still miss her.”
