David grinned. “Good! Congratulations.”
The waitress showed up with her pad and pen.
“Champagne,” he ordered.
Chapter Nineteen
An innate instinct leads hatchlings in the direction of the brightest light, which in nature is moonlight reflecting off the ocean. Lighting from man-made sources such as streetlights, city sky glow, lights from commercial establishments, beachfront homes, and pool lights disorient sea turtles. People on the beach carrying flashlights, lighting bonfires, and using landscape lighting can also disorient hatchlings and send them racing toward land and certain death.
SEPTEMBER CAME AND Cara felt the change of seasons in her marrow. The sky was still crisp blue, the air balmy. If she stepped into the ocean she knew it would feel like bathwater. But there was a subtle shift she couldn’t explain. There was the hint of fall in the air. And with September, the world of the island changed.
Peace was restored on the small island for its approximately four thousand residents. Tourists visited year-round, but the heavy toll came during the summer months. Cara, like every other resident, welcomed the easing of congestion. But the peace came at a price: with September came the peak of the active hurricane season. Right on schedule, a tropical storm was brewing in the Caribbean. Weather forecasters were watching this one and already creating computer programs of potential routes the storm could take.
The weather on Isle of Palms, however, was still blissful. The ferry ride to Dewees was as smooth as silk. Tonight a merry group was heading for a small preview show of Heather’s paintings at the Dewees Community Center. Emmi and Flo sat with Cara and Hope inside the ferry in companionable silence, each enjoying the magnificent view of the sun setting over the Intracoastal Waterway. They were dressed to the nines for the event, Emmi in emerald green that complemented her fiery hair, Flo in crisp white linen and pearls. Cara wore a dress she hadn’t worn in more than ten years—a long black silk ablaze with Hawaiian red hibiscus flowers. Lovie had thought she looked so chic in this dress, with her dark hair worn up and a bit of red lipstick. Cara had seen the dress in the back of her closet and, thinking of her mother, slipped it on.
The rest of the troupe was sitting on the upper deck. Linnea and John had joined their coterie of friends, a group Linnea liked to call the Islands Surf Team. The boys had all known one another from childhood, and the women had found they had a lot in common. Toy and Ethan were having a rare night out without their kids. Cara was delighted to see Toy resplendent in red silk that delicately showed off her baby bump. Ethan’s cousin, Blake Legare, had joined them with his wife, Carson. Linnea had become especially close with Carson, a fellow surfer. Toy, meanwhile, had formed a tight friendship with Heather. Toy was teaching Heather about turtles, and Heather took Toy out for birding events. Cara smiled, thinking how nice it was to see the young people form friendships that could last lifelong. Sometimes life worked out that way, she thought. They all seemed to get along famously.
September was bringing changes for her as well. She stared out at the water and brought to mind for the hundredth time the long conversation she’d had with Kevin Mills at the South Carolina Aquarium.
“Penny for your thoughts,” said Emmi.
Cara swung her head around to meet Emmi’s green-eyed gaze. She smiled, knowing her best friend knew her so well she couldn’t keep anything from her.
“I was thinking about the job offer again.”
Flo overheard and leaned forward on the long, padded bench to speak past Emmi. “You should take it,” she said in her matter-of-fact manner.
Cara and Emmi shared a commiserating gaze. “I’m considering it,” Cara said, shifting Hope from her lap to the padded seat beside her. “Kevin was very complimentary. Still, that means working full-time with a child at home. I don’t want to fail.”
“You’ve never failed at a thing, from what I can tell,” Flo said.
“You’re working all the time anyway,” Emmi argued. “You call it part-time, but we both know you’re giving your consult business one hundred percent.”
“What’s holding you up?” asked Flo.
“Nothing’s holding me up. Kevin and I have begun a discussion in earnest. It’s an honor to be asked to head up a new department and it’s truly an exciting position. It’s as though all the years of advertising and marketing in Chicago, running the ecotour business for Brett, and doing public relations for the Tennessee Aquarium have prepared me for the breadth and scope of being conservation director.”
“You’re uniquely qualified,” Emmi said. “They’re lucky to have you.”
Cara loved Emmi for being her best cheerleader. “I’m the lucky one. Toy would have been an asset too. Still . . .” She paused to gaze at Hope, who had climbed to her feet and was looking out, spellbound by the scenery flashing by her window. Cara put her hand on the baby’s bottom to steady her, her heart pumping with affection. “There are ramifications to be considered for Hope, for our future.”
“Like what?” Emmi asked.
“You know how long I waited for a child. It’s hard to leave her behind.” She sighed and said, almost to herself, “I know she’ll be fine. I found a wonderful day care for her. So far she really likes being there. I think all the playdates with Rory made a difference.”
“Of course she’ll be fine,” Flo said. “She’ll be surrounded by love. From all of us. No child will be loved more.” She paused, reflecting. “I never had children,” she said. Her blue eyes were as bright as torches. “It was my decision. And I love children. I spent my adult life in social services helping them. In one way, I had hundreds of children—I gave my life to them. But I knew myself. I needed to work in a bigger picture. I wasn’t fit for staying home. Knowing that, I made choices. I’ve no regrets. And,” she said with a softening of her expression, “I had two special little girls who were like my own daughters.”
Emmi and Cara both chimed in with declarations of affection.
Emmi wiped her eyes. “Please, stop with all this emotion. You’re going to ruin my makeup.”
Cara laughed fondly at her bighearted friend.
Flo, by contrast, was never comfortable with displays of emotion. She shifted the sweater in her lap, then looked up again, her gaze clear-eyed.
“What I’m trying to tell you,” she said in all seriousness, taking time to look at both Cara and Emmi, “I’ve known you both all your lives. Cara”—Flo focused her attention on her—“you’ve always been an academic. A real go-getter. And frankly, you’re a bit citified too.” She put up her hand. “Don’t get riled. It’s who you are. You won’t be happy staying home, talking to children and baking cookies. Unlike Emmi, who was always good with art and crafts. She thrived being a full-time mom. And she was fortunate to have a husband who could support her.
“Cara, dear, you thrive in the business world. Ignore comments from others about how a good mom stays at home. You need to experience the personal satisfaction that your decision is best for you and your child. Heavens, millions of children with working parents have grown into successful, loving adults. The same goes for children with a mother—or a father, for that matter—staying home. Even if you feel confident today about whichever decision you make, there will be days doubt creeps in. You’ll feel you’ve made a mistake, or that you’re getting the short end of the stick. Just know that your decision doesn’t have to be permanent. You can always go back to work, or you can leave your job later if now’s not the right time. Look at Emmi. Her children are grown, she’s single again, and now she’s happy managing a shop. Life is a long series of choices. All we can do is make the best decision we can at every turn, hope for the best, and deal with the consequences.”
Emmi turned to Cara, for once speechless. There was nothing left to say.
Cara felt Flo’s words were swirling in her mind and taking root. “Thank you, Flo. I needed to hear that.”
Hope squealed and started pointing. They all turned to see what the fuss was about. Out in the l
avender water that reflected the changing skies, three dolphins frolicked in the boat’s wake, arching and diving, creating a show for Hope, who watched, utterly thrilled. Cara joined in with the chorus of “Look!” and “Ahhh!” Watching the dolphins, laughing with her loved ones, she felt the weight of her thoughts dissipate into the air like the droplets of water outside the window.
David and Bo met them at the dock with golf carts to take them to the Dewees Community Center. David drove the large “limo” cart to handle the group. The center was bustling with a good crowd. Judy Fairchild welcomed them at the door and guided them to the drinks and refreshments.
Heather floated across the room to greet them all with a great show of welcome. She wore a blush-colored lace dress that swirled around her ankles, and her blond hair was loosely curled and flowed past her shoulders. At her neck she wore an impressive necklace of diamonds, with more diamonds in her ears. Cara remembered the painfully shy girl who had come to the beach house only four years earlier. It was a joy to see how she’d blossomed. Marriage and motherhood suited her, and tonight she was celebrating the preview of her first art show.
David came to Cara’s side, debonair in a formal dinner suit and carrying a flute of champagne. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Don’t you look handsome,” she commented, taking the wine.
He nodded, smiling. “Thank you. And may I compliment you on your dress.”
She sipped her wine and their eyes met over the rims of their glasses.
“Shall we take a spin around the room?” he asked.
Cara was eager to see the collection. For this exhibit, Heather had culled from her larger collection only paintings of shorebirds, knowing that the residents of Dewees were proud to house a major shorebird sanctuary. The songbirds and other pieces she was reserving for her Charlotte show. There was a buzz of excitement in the room, lots of exclamations.
“I’m so happy for Heather to see such a turnout,” Cara said.
“And all the red dots,” David added, pointing out the small red dots in the corners of the painting labels that indicated a work was sold.
“Already?” Cara was a little stunned. She felt a thread of trepidation. The show had only just opened. And yet, she wasn’t surprised. She paused before a painting of a heron spreading its wings in the sunlight. The feathers appeared almost transparent. “Heather’s talent has grown exponentially,” she said in hushed awe. “For one so young . . .”
They moved on, each painting more beautiful than the last. Cara kept her eyes open for one painting in particular, however. And when at last she spied it, she tugged at David’s sleeve. “Over there,” she said, urging him along. “There’s the one I’ve come for. The roseate spoonbills. I saw the beginnings of it in the tree-house studio, remember? I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind since then. Hurry!”
They cut across the room to where two couples stood admiring the painting. Cara and David were tall enough to look over their shoulders.
“Oh, David,” Cara said on a sigh.
“Like it?”
“Love it. I am overwhelmed. It’s beyond my expectations.” She let her gaze wander the brilliantly rendered painting of a trio of roseate spoonbills standing in the water, their pale-pink plumage catching sunlight, and their reflection mirrored in the water. The cluster of people moved on to the next painting, allowing Cara space to walk to the small cream-colored card describing the painting and the price. The price was surprisingly steep. Cara hadn’t realized Heather’s art had reached that level already. But her breath caught when she saw the small red dot in the corner of the card.
“Oh no. It’s sold,” she said, feeling crushed.
David looked around the room. He was a head taller than most of the people and had a clear view. “Most of them are. It’s like a fire sale. People are rushing to find something available. Isn’t it marvelous?”
“Yes, of course.” She made a resigned face. “But I’m so disappointed this painting was sold. I meant to buy it.”
“Did you?” he asked, surprised.
“Don’t you remember? I saw this painting in its early stage up in the studio. I came here tonight secretly hoping to buy it. But it’s already sold.” She sighed heavily and looked around the room for Heather. “Do you think she’d do another? On commission?”
“I would think so, but she’s very busy now, of course.”
“I know, but I could discuss it with her. Heather introduced me to the roseate spoonbills and I’ve been mad for them ever since. Maybe she’ll give me a friends-and-family discount. Where is she?”
“Cara . . .”
“Oh, there she is,” Cara exclaimed, spotting Heather standing with a group of admirers, probably new patrons. “Let’s go find out.”
David reached out for her elbow and gently held her back. “Cara . . .”
Cara turned and looked into his eyes. His heavy brows were knitted, and he seemed unsure about something. She felt suddenly awkward. “I was only kidding about the friends-and-family discount,” she said.
David laughed lightly and shook his head. “No, I’m sure that’s not a problem. You make this difficult.”
Cara stepped closer, intrigued. “What’s that?”
David sighed with mock exasperation. “I bought this painting.”
“You bought it?”
“Yes. As a present. For you.”
Cara stared back at him, speechless.
“It was meant for your birthday. So . . .” He smiled. “Happy birthday, a few months early.”
“You bought this for me?”
“Yes. I remembered how much you loved it.”
Cara stared at him. He’d noticed how much she loved the painting. . . .
“Please don’t tell me you can’t accept it,” he said.
“I shouldn’t.”
“But you will.”
She couldn’t stop the smile from blooming on her face. “Only if you tell me you got the friends-and-family discount.”
“Of course.”
“Then yes. Oh, David, I love it. I can’t remember the last time I loved a gift more. Not even my Burberry bag. And not just for the gift, but because you noticed. You really are spoiling me.”
“That is my intention.” His eyes kindled and he captured her gaze as he leaned forward.
Cara’s breath held as she lifted her chin. Their first kiss. She felt his approach in millimeters. The buzz around them silenced in her ears as all her senses were focused on the man before her. The sight of him, the scent of his cologne, the feel of the wool of his jacket as she lifted her hand up to lightly touch his arm that slid around her waist. When his lips touched hers, she felt a searing heat shoot through her, igniting her. Ice broke around her heart as it began beating rapidly. It was the softest of kisses, one of great restraint. One that held promise. A whisper of a moan escaped her throat when David pulled back. Blinking, she looked at him again and saw that he was as shaken by the kiss as she.
“Excuse me.”
Cara tore her gaze from David and turned to see Emmi standing at her side. In her arms Hope was chewing one of her teething biscuits, looking tired. The old matchmaker was smiling like the Cheshire cat.
“I hate to interrupt,” she began teasingly. Her wide mouth couldn’t suppress the grin. “But this little one is conking out. Her awnings are lowering.”
“Yes, of course,” Cara said, and reached out to lift Hope into her arms. Hope cuddled up and laid her head on Cara’s shoulder. “We should go. What time is it?”
“Seven forty-five,” Emmi said. “If we leave now, we can make the next ferry.”
Cara turned to face David, her gaze imploring. “I hate to ask you to leave your daughter’s party . . .”
“The party seems to be breaking up,” he said.
Cara looked around and saw that many of the visitors were saying good-bye and leaving for home in a rush. In fact, it looked rather like a mass exodus.
“What’s happened?” she
asked.
Heather approached, her eyes wide with fear. “We just heard. The tropical storm was upgraded to a hurricane. They’re calling this one Irma. And it’s headed straight for us.”
THE STORM HAD begun as a tropical wave off the coast of Africa. Over the next few days it coalesced into a tropical storm and was given the name Irma. During the next twenty-four hours the storm grew highly organized and met with favorable warm surface-water temperatures and low wind shear. Shortly thereafter the rapidly intensifying storm developed a distinct eye feature with sustained winds up to 115 miles per hour. The storm, now Hurricane Irma, was fast becoming an extremely powerful and possibly catastrophic Cape Verde–type hurricane, the strongest and potentially deadliest observed in the Atlantic in more than a decade.
The hurricane was driving everyone in the Caribbean and along the southeastern coast of the United States frantic. It kept shifting directions, sending the experts back to their computers to reveal new tracking cones, which in turn sent another group of residents panicking and laying in supplies. The only thing the experts agreed upon was that Hurricane Irma was heading toward Florida, but where exactly they couldn’t predict.
On Isle of Palms, Cara felt a distinct heaviness in the air. It was not something she could describe, but she knew it when she felt it. She called it hurricane air. It might’ve been the barometric pressure, or possibly the dense moisture in the air. Or, too, it could have been her instincts rearing up from a lifetime of experience. Regardless, an uncomfortable panic was building in her chest as she raced from store to store gathering emergency provisions.
Linnea, however, was ecstatic. She and John joined a legion of local surfers and hit the ocean to ride the “hurricane waves.” Waves of this height and strength only came during storms. Among the surfers there was lots of bravado talk about riding out the storm. There was always the one who claimed he never left the island for a storm and never would leave. There were others who wanted to ride just one more of the good waves before they had to hurry home and shutter up the house. Regardless of their evacuation plans, everyone acknowledged that this monster storm that had been upgraded to a Category Five was not to be ignored.
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