Barefoot at Moonrise (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 2)

by Roxanne St Claire

  For a moment, she closed her eyes, trying to picture twenty-five six-year-olds in her yard…except she didn’t even know where she’d be living when this child had a bouncy-house birthday party.

  Yeah. She did need some security. But not on Dad’s terms.

  “That can’t be good for anyone’s health,” she joked.

  He laughed. “Thankfully, I just have to show up and pay the bill. I hope you’re here with good news for me.”

  Maybe. Maybe not. “I really did stop by to make sure you’re okay.” She followed him to the putting green, inhaling the smell of fresh-cut grass as they walked.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Oh, I had a little, you know…incident.”

  She stopped short on the well-trimmed lawn. “What kind of incident?”

  “Little dizzy spell, is all.”

  “Did you talk to the doctor?”

  “I told you I’m seeing him soon.” He got in front of a ball, lining up a shot. “So have you decided to agree to my plan?”

  She crossed her arms and squinted into the afternoon sun. “I have a different plan.”

  He tapped the ball much too hard, puffing with disgust when it passed the hole. “I like my plan.”

  “Well, I like mine, and if you don’t, my answer to yours is no.” She shocked herself a little by the pronouncement, not having even fully articulated it to herself yet. But with the sound of her brother’s exuberance still ringing in her ears, she knew what she had to do.

  He looked up from his shot, waiting.

  “Split the company three ways if you like, but give the commercial development to RJ.”

  He stared at her.

  “He’ll work hard, Dad.”

  He took the next putt then lifted his head and scowled at her. “Are we talking about the same RJ?”

  “He wants to be given a chance. Landon is an investment pro. I love residential work, and it feels like something I could handle with a…” She stopped short of the word baby spilling out. “With no trouble,” she finished. “But I think it’s only fair that RJ get a piece of the business, too.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” she demanded.

  “Because he’s not responsible enough for it,” he said. “Because he’ll run it into the ground. Because he’s thirty-six going on seventeen. And there was the little part about me wanting to stay involved in the company.”

  Which was exactly what she didn’t want. “You’re wrong about RJ. I believe in him, Dad. He deserves a shot. He’s your son, too.”

  He shook his head.

  “He’s not?” she asked with a choke.

  “Of course he’s my son.” He leaned closer to her, glancing toward the house. “But it will put Josie over the edge, honey, to give a third to RJ.”

  What difference did it make to Josie? “It doesn’t matter. He has a right to a piece of the company as much as I do. Or Landon.” More, since RJ was blood, but she wouldn’t go that route.

  “I don’t disagree completely,” he admitted. “But Jo wants Landon to have it all. This would be a huge compromise. If I bring RJ in, a move I’m not fully certain is a good one, she’ll go crazy. What should I do?”

  She let out a soft laugh.

  “What’s funny?” he asked.

  “Nothing, and everything. Honestly, I don’t think in my entire life I recall you asking me for advice. You like to give advice, not take it.”

  He managed a smile. “Maybe I am sick.”

  “Nor do I ever recall you letting someone else call the shots, especially with regard to EDC. It’s like Josie has some strange power over you.”

  He shrugged. “I love her,” he said simply.

  “Love usually makes you tell people what to do, not listen to them.”

  He sighed, nodding. “Then you’ll understand why I say what I’m about to say even if you don’t like it.”

  She stiffened. “Can’t wait.”

  He switched the club to his other hand to lean on it and get a little closer to her. “You’re still seeing Ken Cavanaugh, aren’t you?”

  Seeing? She managed not to snort or touch her stomach in a dead giveaway. “He’s helping me with the flip.”

  Dad sighed. “Have you read those papers I left with you? About the Cavanaugh case?”

  “Actually, no. I have no interest in them.”

  “Grandpa!” The two matching girls came running out, each wearing a glitter crown on platinum tresses. “We’re both princesses!”

  He dropped the putter and spread his arms to capture both of them. “So you are, and I’m your royal servant.”

  Suddenly, she wondered…would he love her daughter—or son—like that? Or would he look at her and always be reminded of a mistake he’d made and covered up years ago?

  “Dad, listen, I need to—”

  “Girls! Girls!” Rebecca marched outside, clapping like a preschool teacher with a rowdy class. “Grandma JoJo has cookies, and you have to leave Grandpa alone. He’s not feeling well.”

  He shot her a harsh look. “I’m fine, Rebecca.”

  She shook her head. “Josie needs you inside, stat. Time for your meds, Grandpa.” She managed to get the putter out of his hand and put it down as she walked back inside, leaving them.

  Dad sighed and threw a wry smile to Beth. “See?” he said. “This is the life of an invalid.”

  “They love you, and you’re not an invalid.”

  He harrumphed. “Feel like an invalid. Now, about those papers I gave you—”

  “Wait, Dad. I have to ask you a question about them. Did you tape that envelope closed or was it sealed when you gave it to me?”

  He frowned for a second, long enough for Beth’s fists to tighten into balls. “So you did look at them?”

  “Taped or sealed?” she asked.

  “I taped it. I never lick envelopes.”

  She actually exhaled in relief. She had been imagining things.

  “Beth, when you read them…” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t judge too harshly.”

  Oh God. Was he responsible for John Cavanaugh’s death? She inched away from his touch, hating the thought.

  “Raymond Endicott!” Josie’s voice cut off the discussion, and Beth couldn’t have been more grateful.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ken powered his little Boston Whaler over crystal blue water to Sanibel, a barrier island not much different from Mimosa Key in size and scope, wishing like hell that Beth was with him instead of Sally. Well, in addition to Sally.

  He docked in the public marina and leashed up Sally to come along on the errand, spying Law sitting on a bench near the wharf, barefoot, hat over his eyes, looking sound asleep.

  “This is how you check out a possible place to buy?” Ken asked as he approached.

  Law tipped the hat but didn’t lift his head. “Is that a dog or a hairy beer keg?”

  “This is Sally. Don’t tease her about her weight. She’s sensitive.”

  He sat all the way forward, then leaned over to greet Sally, who nuzzled and won him over with one look. “But she has a pretty face,” Law joked.

  “And a nice personality,” Ken replied. “Plus, you said she’d be welcome in this place.”

  “Outside, definitely. It’s right there.” Law pointed to a stucco building with a yellow awning and a cheesy sign reading Lighthouse Landing. Outside were tables under umbrellas and a few dogs tied up with their lunching owners.

  “So this restaurant is for sale?” Ken asked.

  “He hasn’t officially put it on the market yet, but we talked by phone and he’s very close. At least this owner isn’t a shell company with no person to talk to.”

  “It’s a lot fancier than the Toasted Pelican,” Ken said.

  “But it isn’t the Toasted Pelican,” he replied. “It’s like getting in bed with the wrong woman and pining for someone else. You ever do that?”

  “Not today,” he said, giving Sally’s leash a tug. Today
he didn’t get into bed with any woman because he let his damn twenty-five year old grudges get in the way.

  Law eyed him suspiciously as they walked. “So it’s going well with the reunion babe?”

  “Her name is Beth,” he corrected. “And it’s going okay.”

  They settled at a table under the awning alongside of the restaurant. While Law chatted up a waitress, who promised to bring out the owner, Ken checked his phone. Twice.

  “So what does okay mean?” Law asked after she left. “A weekly booty call or a daily plow of the field?”

  Ken snorted. “No wonder you’re single.”

  Law shrugged. “So which is it?”

  “We’re still getting to know each other.”

  “My least favorite part of the process,” Law said with a rueful smile. “Especially when you just really want to fuck and duck, you know?”

  “You actually are a Neanderthal, aren’t you?”

  Law grinned as the waitress returned with a Heineken for Ken and the ubiquitous O’Doul’s for Law. “Just calling it like I see it. But seriously, how’s the chase treating you? You happy? Relaxed? Getting laid?”

  “Is none of the above an option?”

  Law almost choked on his drink. “You poor bastard.”

  Ken had to look away, scanning the docks. “I can’t say I’ve ever been in a situation like this.”

  “Come on, she either wants you or she doesn’t. It doesn’t have to be complicated. If she does, she’ll come around. If she doesn’t, pull out your rod, add fresh bait, and stick it in new waters.”

  Ken laughed lightly. “I can’t wait for the day when the right woman comes along and tames you.”

  He snorted. “Let her try. So why is this one complicated?”

  Ken looked down at the beer and considered his response, the need to talk about the baby with someone other than Beth strong. Not that Law could give him advice or that it would be anything he’d actually follow, but he needed to say it out loud. “There’s a past.”

  “Dude, there’s always a past. That’s what makes people interesting.”

  “And there’s a future,” he said before he could stop himself.

  “Whoa. You’re that serious about her?” Law asked.

  “I could be. I want to be. I need to be.”

  His friend dropped back and snorted. “The only thing you need is a few hours in the sack and a gourmet meal. Good sex and great food cures all, you know.”

  If only it were that simple. “She’s pregnant.”

  Law choked again, hard this time. Then his face screwed up into an expression of comprehension and disbelief. “Damn. Did you hook up with her at the reunion?”

  “I hook up with ladders,” he said. “Not women. Not that woman, anyway.”

  “You did. You totally boned that night.” Law inched back, impressed. “I’m taking full credit for that, by the way. But no raincoat, Cav? Do you go into a burning building with no gear?”

  “No.” He shifted uncomfortably, not really wanting to share intimate details with his unenlightened friend, but desperately needing to talk to someone. “She had her tubes tied, but apparently, pregnancy can still happen.”

  “Whoa.” He picked up his beer and tapped it against Ken’s. “Way to shoot cannonballs, my friend.”

  He couldn’t resist a secret smile.

  “So, wow.” Law took a drink, nodding as it sank in. “You got some shit going on.” He dropped back in his chair and shook his head. “I do not envy you, son.”

  An older man came up to their table, frowning as he approached. “Mr. Monroe?”

  Law sat up and turned. “That’s me. Joe Canton?”

  They shook hands, and Law introduced him to Ken. Then Joe took an empty seat. “I’m afraid I have bad news,” he said straightaway.

  Law swore under his breath. “You’re not selling?”

  “My son wants the place after all,” he said.

  Law stared at him. “Your son.” His voice actually cracked with disappointment.

  Ken pulled himself out of his own misery for a moment to think about Law’s and appreciate that, for all his joking, this gastro pub was important to him.

  “Hey, I’m sorry,” the restaurant owner said. “He’s not the best restaurant manager in the world, but he’s my son. You know what that means.”

  Law’s mighty shoulders dipped a little as if the words pressed down. “More or less,” he said vaguely. “I understand, Joe. Your decision’s made.”

  Joe stood and put his hand on Law’s shoulder. “Lunch is on me. I’ll have them bring out our best burgers.”

  When he left, Law let out a disgusted sigh. “Of course he gave it to his son, because that’s what people do.”

  The words were loaded, but Ken wasn’t quite sure what they were loaded with. Bitterness, anger, frustration. “Hey, man,” Ken said. “Sorry that didn’t work out.”

  He shrugged and took a swig. “It’s for the better,” he said. “It’s not the place I really want. Not the place I…” His voice trailed off.

  “The Pelican?” Ken guessed.

  Law just looked beyond him, gazing at the wharf, his eyes dark with the closest thing to sadness Ken had ever seen in them. “That’s where I belong,” he said softly. “And, damn it, I’m not going to give up that easily. There has to be…” He stopped as if he caught himself.

  “Be what?” Ken prodded.

  Law waved it off. “Forget my crap, Cav. You got way bigger problems.”

  “I guess.” He angled his phone to check to see if any texts had come through.

  “Brother, you have it so bad,” Law said. “Why don’t you put yourself out of your misery and tell her to marry you?”

  “Or I could drag her by the hair to my cave and take what’s rightfully mine.”

  “Ahh, the good old days.”

  A waitress came over, smiling at Law. “Mr. Canton forgot to ask how you want your burgers done.”

  Ken leaned forward. “Medium for me. My friend Tarzan wants his raw with a fire.”

  Law laughed and took a deep drink after she left. “I know exactly what you should do, you know.”

  “Whatever it is, it’s illegal, immoral, or outdated.”

  “Make her jealous. Start seeing someone else.”

  Ken looked at him, incredulous. “There isn’t anyone else.”

  “Oof.” Law grunted. “My heart aches for you.”

  “Haven’t you ever met anyone you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?” Ken asked. “Haven’t you ever met a woman you really couldn’t live without?”

  “My friend, no such woman exists, and if she did, I’d run so fast you’d call me a cheetah instead of Tarzan.” Law pounded his sizable chest lightly. “I like that, by the way.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment.”

  Law pinned him with a gaze exactly the color of the Heineken bottle Ken was holding. “Look, dude. It’s simple, and you know it. Get rid of the thing that’s keeping you apart. Say you’re sorry if you have to stoop to that level.”

  “I did already, but it’s deeper than that. More complicated. And it isn’t going away. If anything, it could get worse if she…” Takes that job or continues to distrust him. “Does something I’m not sure I can handle.”

  “Color me intrigued, man. What is it?”

  Ken literally pressed his lips together, the nondisclosure agreement that had loomed over his life for twenty-five years as clear as the day his mother signed it on behalf of the entire family. He had agreed to be silent so his mother could avoid years of litigation and take the money, the hush money, Ray Endicott threw at her.

  Law frowned. “Why are you being weird about this?”

  “I’m not being weird. I’m just…not at liberty to say.”

  The waitress arrived with their food, and they didn’t speak until she was gone. During the brief time, Ken checked his phone again. The blank screen kicked his gut.

  “So what do you want to do?” Law asked.r />
  “Honestly?” Ken lifted his burger, staring at the bun, thinking how to answer that question. “I want to love her, marry her, and spend the rest of my life with her and our child. Simple and, to you, stupid. But that’s the truth.”

  “Not stupid,” Law said, surprising Ken with the note of sadness in his voice. “And for a guy like you? Totally doable.”

  “No, it isn’t,” he said. “There’s an obstacle that will never go away.”

  “Have you told her that’s what you want?”

  “Not exactly. Remember, this is the poster girl for self-sufficient women.”

  “I hate that kind.”

  “I love that kind,” Ken shot back.

  Law put his burger down and narrowed his eyes. “Do you or do you not love this woman?”

  “I could. I’m close. It’s possible.”

  “Then lay it all out there. Tell her everything. Tell her it’s forever. Tell her you’ll never be happy without her.” He took a bite and grinned over his bun. “Chicks eat that shit up with a spoon.”

  Some chicks might, Ken thought. But not Beth Endicott.

  * * *

  Long after the last fan was removed from the house, the water remediation guys had been paid, and the house was as back to normal as a semi-construction site could be, Beth’s internal war raged.

  She had to know the truth.

  As much as she didn’t want to read those files, she and Ken needed to throw this whole issue on the table and decide if it had the power to keep them apart. And if it didn’t, then the past really and truly had to be the past and they could move on.

  But she put it off, busying herself by looking at the kitchen plans, reading email, tidying up where she could, and taking a long bubble bath in the hideous master bath tub, all the while imagining how the pretty room would look when she was done.

  Slipping on flannel sleep shorts and a tank top, she ran a brush through her wet hair and stared at her closet, already visualizing walking down to the garage to get the step stool, climbing up to the bins, and digging for that envelope.

  She picked up the phone and stared at the blank screen, no longer able to ignore the ache of Ken’s silence or the guilt of hers. All day he’d gone without texting or calling, on his day off when they could have spent a lot of time together if she hadn’t accused him of breaking and entering.