Clair (Beach Brides Book 4)

by Grace Greene

  They saw the man, himself, standing in the street a few yards away.

  Clair didn’t try to hide her suspicion. “What are you doing here?”

  He looked surprised and uneasy in that first moment, then he smiled. “I was returning to my hotel.” He gestured down the road. “A mile or so that way. On impulse, I stopped here. Thought I might take a walk on the beach.”

  “The hotel has a nice beach.”

  “True. But once I’m back there, I’ll get sucked into work and never make it back outside.”

  She understood how that went. It rang true and she relaxed a bit.

  “Was that where you were headed when we saw you yesterday?” She tightened her hold on Darcy’s hand, the free hand, not the one holding the shell. She swung their clasped hands a bit, not sure whether she was trying to appear relaxed or ready to move. “You’re here on business?”

  He nodded.

  She motioned toward the path. “It’s a lovely morning on the beach. Don’t work too hard. Make sure to enjoy yourself while you’re here.” This was the moment to break off the encounter and stop spouting words that were beginning to sound foolish. He nodded and gave her a quick smile as if he understood and agreed.

  But her sister refused to move.

  “Come on, Darcy.”

  Nothing. Clair was about to grab her arm. This time she’d have to be more forceful. But then Darcy held out her hand. Her fist, really. Toward the man. She unlocked her grip and her fingers spread wide revealing the sandy shell in her palm. She held it, offering it. Clair cast a quick, warning look at the man.

  He returned Clair’s look, uncertain. She nodded yes. But he didn’t take the shell from Darcy’s hand. Instead, he knelt, extended his own hand palm up, and waited.

  Clair tried not to speak. She didn’t want to risk disturbing whatever was happening. For a long minute, no one moved, and then Darcy’s small hand did. It crossed the inches between her hand and his, and turned over in slow motion to allow the shell to fall gently into his. As it did, Darcy’s expression didn’t change but the man’s polite smile morphed into a glow that lit his whole face and echoed in Clair’s heart.

  Foolish. Clair heard the word in her head, but she allowed herself a moment to recognize and appreciate the feeling. She hadn’t felt this emotional rush since the early days with Sean, back when things had been blissfully good. Their relationship had its ups and downs, especially as the business setbacks worsened, but Clair never doubted the two of them had something good going. She’d trusted in them and their future. It hadn’t worked out. Maybe, she’d been foolish to believe in them as a couple no matter what…and maybe she was indulging in foolishness now, but she allowed herself to experience that burst of joy before tamping it down.

  “We have to get home.” She took Darcy’s hand intending to leave.

  “Wait, please,” he said. He spoke softly. “Thank you very much, Darcy, for this gift.” He stepped away.

  Clair felt a bit like a child who’d been let out to play, but too briefly, and was disappointed and resistant, and also like a child who’d been reaching for the flame when someone intervened and snatched her hand back. She was grateful to be saved from near disaster. Of course, she was. She and Darcy started to walk away, yet her own feet felt heavy, almost dragging. Darcy was having the same problem. Clair was afraid Darcy was about to refuse to move altogether when the man called out.

  “Wait.”

  Clair paused and turned back toward him.

  “I’m sorry. I just realized I haven’t introduced myself. I mean, I won’t be here long but we might run into each other again or,” he paused as he smiled at Darcy, “in case other gifts may come my way, you should know my name, right?”

  “Please.” She smirked. His premise was too silly to give credence to. Just plain silly. Darcy, who, to all appearances had been staring at the ground when he smiled at her, was clearly aware of the social interactions happening around her. Clair felt that awareness emanating from her, perhaps like an aura. Or an electrical field. Why? Was it this guy?

  “My name is Greg. I’m Greg Prescott, originally from Kansas, but more recently from California.”

  “California by way of Kansas?” Silly, again.

  “Well, not all at once.”

  Clair glanced down at her sister and then back at the man. What harm could it do? He was just passing through. She said, “I’m Clair. You already know my sister, Darcy.”

  “Pleased to meet you both, officially.”

  “Mr. Prescott…Greg, we don’t want to hold you up. I’m sure you have business to attend to and it’s time for Darcy’s lunch.”

  “Of course.”

  But when Clair moved, Darcy didn’t.

  Now what?

  He said, “May I walk you home?”

  His offer felt like a rescue.

  Greg

  He could hardly believe he’d introduced himself to the surveillance subject, and then invited himself along for a stroll.

  It was the gift. The child had surprised him.

  He’d watched the two of them walk along the street this morning and turn down the beach path. The child, swinging the bucket, made their destination obvious. Greg had followed at a discreet distance partway down the path, just far enough to observe them quietly for a few minutes and to verify they weren’t meeting anyone, then he returned to the road and shook the sand out of his shoes. He considered returning to the hotel, but he couldn’t do the job from there. So, he would wait here. His car was parked beside a low, shady tree with the windows rolled down. When he sat in the car, the paper in his pants pocket crackled. He pulled it out, unfolded it, and took another look.

  A photocopy. The name, Clair Bennett, was written in a woman’s hand, so probably Clair herself had written it. Below it was an email address that didn’t work. Deliberately fake. A faint rectangular outline framed the writing, suggesting the original was a business card. His client, the annoying guy, had given him this and said, “Find her. Don’t contact her. I want to know where she is and what she’s doing.”

  The guy had been to the Caribbean. Some fancy resort down there. He said a bottle had washed up at his feet. The client said he had learned to pay attention to the unexpected. Greg understood that.

  Greg respected instinct. Not necessarily to blindly follow one’s instinct, but to respect it and give it due attention. Maybe that was what his client was doing. Though, to be honest, the guy had irritated him right from the start.

  He refolded the paper and returned it to his pocket, then waited and watched. He made sure he was out of the car giving the appearance of coincidentally walking by when the woman and the child emerged from the path. He said hello to them and then, soon after, had introduced himself.

  Why? Probably because the child had offered him the shell as if it were the most precious gift ever bestowed.

  It had knocked down his defenses—the shell in his hand—given by a child who never spoke. That’s what caused him to speak, to offer his name. And why not? Where was the harm? His name couldn’t possibly connect him with his client. If Clair Bennett did have some interest in his client, in her mind he, Greg, wasn’t part of that lineup. Besides, friendliness could disarm her and he might be better able to assess her current situation and obtain better information for his client.

  They exchanged a few courteous words and then the woman said it was lunchtime. It was a good time to break off the encounter, but the child dragged her feet. Clair looked frustrated.

  Impulsively, he said, “May I walk you home?”

  Her slight frown cleared and she said, “I guess that depends.” She looked down at the child and then back at him. “Maybe just get us started? Maybe she’ll keep going. I don’t want to interfere with…whatever you were doing. What are you doing? You said you were taking a walk?” He saw doubt in her eyes as they fixed on his loafers and slacks. He prepared himself to be challenged, perhaps to be ordered to leave them alone, and that might have been for t
he best, but then the doubt cleared from her face and, curious, he waited.

  Clair

  He wasn’t wearing a jacket today. She was surprised to realize she remembered his attire from the day before, that she’d even noticed it.

  She laughed. “You must be a city guy. You’re wearing the wrong clothing for the beach. Those shoes will fill up with sand and wreck your socks, too. You need sandals.”

  He looked down at his shoes and laughed.

  “You’re right about that. My shorts and sandals are back on the west coast. Not much good to me here. Taking a walk on the street might be a better idea anyway, and helpful, too.” He nodded toward Darcy.

  Clair hesitated, then said, “I don’t know why she’s being so stubborn.”

  They moved together along the street. It was a slow walk, but her sister was heading in the right direction.

  “Apologies in advance, but I’ll ask anyway because I’m leaving soon and I want to know. Do you mind?”

  “It depends on the question.”

  “This is a beautiful area. Do you live here?”

  She shrugged. “I grew up here.”

  “It must be quiet in the winter.”

  “It is. That can be nice, too.”

  “I see. I’m sorry, if that was a hint that I’m talking too much.” He waited for the expected response and got it.

  Clair said, “Oh, no. That’s not what I meant.”

  “Well, caution would be understandable. After all, we’re strangers. It’s just that I look at you and I see a mystery.”

  “Mystery? Nothing mysterious here.”

  “Now, me, I have no mystery. I was in the service, army, and recently left. Thought I’d enjoy business for a change.”

  She frowned. “Business? Is that the Kansas or California part?”

  “Kansas is where I grew up. California is where I live now.”

  “Doing business. Yet it brought you here?”

  “It did. Not too tough a place to spend a few days.”

  “I have to agree with that. What kind of business?”

  He shrugged. “The kind where people pay you and no one is shooting at you or making you do PT.”

  “PT? Oh, you mean like working out? Physical training.”

  “Correct. Don’t get me wrong. I like to work out, but I’d rather do it on my own terms, not because I’m told to or have to pass some sort of evaluation.”

  She smiled. “Sounds like you got tired of being told what to do. But that’s true of business, too, isn’t it? Maybe not the PT, and while it may sound simple—to be involved in some sort of business—it isn’t necessarily. Any business where you have to rely on other people, or on market drivers, or any number of other things…well, as with life, I think control is illusive, or…what do they say? Control is an illusion. Especially if you’re partnering with someone.” She stopped abruptly.

  “Partners. Life is about partnership, right? Even hermits have to work with people from time to time.”

  She sighed. “This is a strange conversation.” In fact, it was crazy. Why was she letting him go on about mystery? He was tempting her to discuss personal matters. Mallory always said she was too open. Why would he care anyway…it didn’t make sense…and then she realized he was just making conversation, talking about mystery as an excuse for conversation, almost like a tease…a flirtation. She felt her face grow warm.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want to invade your privacy. I have to leave soon and I was enjoying the conversation.”

  He stopped and seemed to be waiting. Clair wanted to shoo him away but the thing was, she was enjoying the conversation, too. When he left, it would be only her and Darcy again. Silence until she chose to fill the air with some inane monologue.

  Greg Prescott leveled his gray eyes and high cheekbones at Clair and said, “If I’m being too presumptuous, tell me and I’ll back off. Would you consider joining me for dinner this evening?” He shrugged. “I’m leaving tomorrow. It would be nice to have companionship for at least one meal while I’m here.”

  She was stunned and thoughts were whirling in her head.

  In the silence, he added, “Darcy is welcome, too.”

  Chapter Four

  Clair

  Before she could stop herself, Clair said, “My sister can watch her.”

  He looked a little surprised. She wanted to reach out and pull her words back. There were other words she’d intended to say…words that would keep her safe and her heart—what was left of it—from further destruction. She heard the words again in her head, my sister can watch her. She saw how his eyes lit up and how he smiled. And yet….

  She added, “Maybe it’s not such a good idea. We hardly know each other.”

  “Somewhere local. A public place. People meet new people every day. I’m safe. I’d tell you if I weren’t.”

  She laughed at the absurdity of that statement and at the twinkle in his eyes. An hour or two at most in a restaurant with a handsome man who seemed to enjoy her company, an adult with whom she could chat and joke—she could do far worse. And he was leaving tomorrow. There was comfort in that, too.

  He sensed her trying to decide. “What time can I pick you up?”

  She shook her head. “How about Port of Call? It’s in Salter Path on the main road. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Sure. Sounds good. What time?”

  “Six? Though if my sister has to work late we may need to cancel.”

  He wrote his phone number on a slip of paper and offered it to her. “Call me if that happens. We’ll work something out.”

  He walked away. She stood there wondering what idiocy she’d agreed to, until Darcy squeezed her hand. That alone was pretty remarkable.

  Clair smiled at her, gave hers a gentle squeeze back. “Understood.”

  After getting Darcy settled with lunch, Clair called Mallory.

  “What time do you think you’ll be home?”

  “Not sure. Why? Do you need me?”

  “Well,” and then there followed a long pause.

  “What? Is something wrong?”

  “No, nothing. It’s been so long since I went out in the evening, it feels odd.”

  “Out? As in with friends? Or on a date?”

  “Sort of a date, I guess.”

  “Who?”

  “His name is Greg. He’s not from around here and he’s leaving town soon, so it’s harmless.”

  “Harmless? Clair, really?”

  “Really. He was born in Kansas, served in the military, but he lives in California now. He’s here on business and he thinks it’s okay to wear loafers on the beach. Pretty harmless, I’d say.”

  Mallory was laughing so hard, she started coughing.

  Clair yelled through the phone. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Really. Oh, Clair. You said you just met him? You know a lot about him. Tell me this, though. If he’s harmless, then why bother?”

  This time, Clair had to choke back a laugh. “Mallory. Seriously.”

  “You know what I mean. I’m not suggesting you date Jack the Ripper, but someone whose company you’ll enjoy…not just a replacement for you-know-who.” Her voice softened. “Honestly, I’m glad you’re open to getting out again. I think that’s a good thing.”

  “Thanks. What time do you think you’ll be home? He mentioned meeting at six p.m. at the restaurant.”

  “You’re meeting him there?”

  “My choice. Feels safer. I’ve had enough drama in my life to last me forever.”

  “Six. I’ll be home by five-thirty. Will that work? I’ll try to get home earlier so that you can get dolled up without having to watch Darcy.”

  “Thanks, Mal. Appreciate it.”

  “My pleasure, sis.”

  “I owe you. We need to give some consideration to your social life, too.”

  They disconnected. Had Mallory really spoken the words “dolled up”?

  That thought drove Clair to her closet. She
hadn’t dressed for a date in a long time. She and Sean had been very casual and worked a lot. Their lives had been like one long date dedicated to their future, the business, plans….

  Done. Shut off the negative thoughts. Clair reminded herself that the past was the past. Let it stay there and die there.

  This dinner invitation was a date. A real one, but also a test. It was an opportunity to start making new memories to push out the old ones. She and Greg would have a congenial meal together and then he’d leave town. No muss, no fuss. A nice evening out.

  She was ready for that.

  ****

  Greg

  Should he feel guilty at the deception? No. He would move on and they’d never know anyone had been here investigating anyone. He would be no more than an anecdote, if he was remembered at all. The strange guy who was here for a few days—from California by way of Kansas. Had he really said that? Yes. At the beach access. He shook his head.

  Growing up in Kansas seemed a lifetime ago and he’d learned by painful experience that you couldn’t always go home again. Home moved on without you. It was how life worked. You expected to pick up where you left off and discovered you didn’t fit in any longer. Didn’t belong. In fact, it would’ve been more accurate to say California by way of the Middle East—now just a guy who was passing through Emerald Isle on business. Sand and more sand. At least, California and North Carolina offered boogie boards and oceans with their sand, not to mention a whole host of other conveniences.

  As for questioning whether deception was acceptable, or whether the unintended conversation was a mistake…well, personal mission debriefs were a habit and a useful tool. Inviting the surveillance subject to dinner was unusual. That action had been deliberate.

  Greg had this odd, yet interesting feeling that he had disclosed more about himself than he’d unearthed about her. He couldn’t decide how he felt about that, which itself was illogical.