Taking Over the Tycoon

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Beside Kristy, Connor coughed, as if hinting that she should tread carefully here. What was it about Charleston society people and their egos? “I’m not trying to insult you,” Kristy said gently. “But preparing food for fifty people plus the staff three times a day is a real challenge.”

  “One I assure you I am up to,” Winnifred said starchily, slipping off her exquisitely tailored jacket, to reveal a silk shell underneath. “And to prove it, I’ll prepare dinner this evening for as many as you like.”

  Kristy hesitated.

  Winnifred looked at her, almost daring Kristy not to give her a chance. What did she have to lose? Kristy wondered. Perhaps it would give Harry Bowles and Winnifred a chance to work out whatever problem they had, in any case. Because it was clear that something pretty important was going on between them. “Fine. You’ll have to make do with what is currently in the refrigerator and pantry, though.” She didn’t have the time or inclination to go out and look for any gourmet delicacies required in whatever haute cuisine Winnifred might want to whip up.

  “How many will be here?” the woman asked, all-business now.

  Kristy did some rapid calculating. “Six. But if you wanted to make more, we could eat leftovers tomorrow.”

  “Nonsense.” Winnifred tossed Harry a challenging look, then turned back to Kristy, promising resolutely, “I’ll prepare every meal fresh. That is my job, after all. Should you decide to forgo any prejudice my blue-blooded background might engender, and award it to me.” She glanced at the set of swinging double doors at the other end of the dining hall. “I presume the hotel kitchen is this way?”

  Kristy nodded.

  Winnifred took off.

  Scowling as if he had just been trumped in an important bridge match, Harry stomped back to the cart of draperies and pushed it on into the laundry room.

  “Now what?” Connor asked, when he and Kristy were alone again.

  Deciding it might be wise to stay out of the kitchen until Winnifred cooled down, and at the same time give Harry a clear path to apologize to her, or vice versa, Kristy said, “Let’s go outside and get some sodas out of the drink machines next to the building.”

  They had just popped the tabs on their drinks when the arborist Kristy had been expecting pulled into the resort driveway and circled around to the portico in front of the lobby. The woman, Shirley Lane, jumped out of her pickup truck. She had short, red-gray hair and a friendly freckled face, and was clad in a pine-green landscaping-company uniform, with a badge pinned to the lapel of her cotton work vest.

  “I see what you mean about those palmetto trees,” she said, indicating them with a wave of her hand. “They aren’t looking good at all.”

  “I’m afraid they might all be dying,” Kristy said worriedly.

  “I hate to say it, but I think you might be right.” Shirley got a couple of plastic bags and a sharp instrument that looked like a surgical tool out of the tackle box on her front seat. “I’m going to have to take some samples, but off the cuff, I’d say something has attacked the roots.”

  Connor was watching the procedure with interest. “Insects?” he guessed.

  Shirley pursed her lips. “Generally speaking, palmettos are pretty resistant to pests and disease,” she said. “That’s why they’re so popular down here. Because they are such a strong tree, with such deep root systems. But never say never.”

  “How long will it take you to find out what is happening to them?” Kristy asked anxiously. It seemed to her that every day now the trees looked worse. And with them comprising the bulk of the landscaping and providing both shade and a tropical aura, it could be a problem. Especially if she ended up eventually having to take the trees out.

  Shirley shook her head thoughtfully. “It could be as short as a couple of weeks or as long as a month, depending on how hard it is to isolate and identify the problem.”

  “That long?” Kristy gasped. At the rate the leaves were curling up, her trees could be dead by then!

  The arborist shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I’ll put a rush on it. But you have to understand, it takes a few weeks to grow the cultures in the lab. And a while after that to get the disease identified, especially if it’s something unusual. And right now, it looks to me as if it might be.”

  Great, Kristy thought. “In the meantime, is there anything I can do to help them get better or at least not any worse?” The edges of the leaves were brown and curling, a definitely unhealthy sign.

  Shirley shook her head. “Until we know what we are dealing with, it’s best not to do anything. But just to be on the safe side, in case this is a disease of some sort that’s attacking the root systems, I wouldn’t plant any new shrubbery or flowers around them. Whatever is affecting your trees could be in the soil.”

  Kristy thanked the arborist, then stood with Connor, watching her drive away.

  “Well, that could hardly have been worse news,” he noted.

  “At least she didn’t say they were definitely dying and there was no hope,” Kristy answered. It would cost thousands of dollars to replace the trees, and would take years for new ones to reach the same towering heights. Without trees, the resort would lose a lot of its charm, resembling one of those hotels that sprang up along barren stretches of the freeway, instead of a carefully cultivated haven in nature.

  “Well, let’s hope Shirley Lane comes back with good news,” Connor said.

  “No kidding.” Kristy took a sip of her soda.

  “What next?” Connor said, as he finished his.

  Kristy glanced at the school bus coming down the drive. Reminded of her talk with the counselor that very morning, she sighed. These days it was always something. She shot Connor a concerned look. “I talk to my twins.”

  “ARE WE IN TROUBLE, Mommy?” Susie asked, as Kristy carried beach chairs down to the dunes for the three of them. The girls walked beside her, Susie carrying a small cooler of canned lemonade and Sally three individual bags of pretzels for their snack.

  “No, sweetheart, you’re not.” Kristy selected the place in the dunes where they had the most privacy and the best view of the ocean at Paradise Resort. It was the spot where she and Lance had always taken the girls to enjoy the sunset, whenever they vacationed and visited here, and she was hoping it would make them feel closer to their father, being here.

  “Then how come the guidance counselor gave us that note so she could talk to you?” Sally asked, her lower lip trembling.

  Kristy gave both girls a reassuring look as she explained matter-of-factly, “She was concerned. She said the two of you have been talking about Daddy a lot lately. At school.”

  Susie blinked, her confusion evident. “And that’s why we’re in trouble?” she asked.

  This was so hard. Suddenly Kristy wished she didn’t have to do it alone. She wished Connor were here with her. But she had asked him to stay back at the lodge and do whatever he could to assist Harry or Winnifred.

  Kristy finished setting up the chairs, close together and facing the ocean. “Your teachers said you’ve been sort of acting like Daddy didn’t die,” Kristy murmured, seating her daughters on either side of her.

  The girls scowled at her in confusion. “But he did die and go to heaven,” Sally protested heatedly.

  “I know that, honey.” Kristy wrapped an arm around each girl and cuddled them close. “Which is why everyone is a little confused.” And I am worried out of my mind about what might be going on here. “Because your teacher said you told the other kids your daddy was helping you learn your multiplication tables.”

  Sally nodded soberly, admitting this was true.

  Kristy turned to Susie. “And she said you were telling the kids your daddy was away on a long trip and you couldn’t wait to spend time with him again.”

  “That’s right.” Susie nodded vigorously. “Daddy did go on a long journey—to heaven. You and Grandma and Grandpa told me so. And I’ll get to see him again when I go to heaven.”

  “But that w
on’t be for a long time.”

  “I know,” Susie said with perfect eight-year-old logic. “But I still can’t wait,” she finished eagerly.

  Okay, that made sense. To an eight-year-old, anyway. Kristy turned to Sally. “What you said about Daddy helping you with your homework…” She paused, not sure how to word this. “Do you see Daddy when he helps you?”

  “No, silly.” Sally made a face, as if that was the stupidest question on earth. “He’s in heaven!”

  Beginning to feel a little better now, Kristy asked curiously, “Then how does he help you?”

  Sally clasped her hands over her chest. “He helps me in here. Don’t you ’member, Mommy? You told us that Daddy was always going to be with us—in our hearts. Whenever I needed him, all I had to do was close my eyes and think about how much I loved him, and he would be with me again. And I needed him to help me with my math.”

  Kristy felt tears gathering behind her eyes. She loved her little girls so much and felt so bad they’d had to suffer through this loss. “I see now,” she said thickly. She couldn’t wait to explain it to their schoolteachers and counselor.

  “So are we still in trouble?” Susie asked. Both girls looked at Kristy urgently.

  “No.”

  The twins smiled at each other, relieved.

  Not sure this was as simple as it appeared on the surface, however—her experience as a mother told her there were always layers to things, whenever any sort of trouble occurred—Kristy dug a little deeper. She wanted to make sure the girls weren’t feeling as if she was letting them down, too, by not being there for them when they needed her. “How are things otherwise?” she asked kindly.

  Both girls’ eyes widened. They exchanged glances. Then Sally demanded, “What do you mean?”

  “Are you happy at your new school?”

  Both of them shrugged. Sally worked on opening her snack bag of pretzels. Susie did the same.

  “Are you sad when you’re there?” Kristy persisted.

  Neither twin said anything. Nor did they look at her.

  Certain she was on to something, Kristy said, “Lonely, maybe?”

  The twins looked at each other intently. Finally, Susie spoke for both of them, “Sometimes we miss our friends in North Carolina.” She attempted to smile at her mom reassuringly.

  “But most of the time it’s okay,” Sally added quickly, her own melancholy evident. “The kids here are nice, too.”

  So they had been having some trouble adjusting, Kristy thought. And because they knew she was so overwhelmed with trying to get the resort up and running again, they’d decided to keep their worries to themselves. “You know, I’ve been working so hard trying to get the lodge ready to reopen, that I haven’t had much time to play with you two kiddos. I’m really sorry about that,” Kristy said, ruffling their dark hair affectionately.

  “It’s okay, Mommy.” Susie leaned against Kristy’s shoulder. Sally did the same.

  No, Kristy thought, as she continued to cuddle both her daughters, it wasn’t okay. The girls needed more from her, and she hadn’t been as accessible to them as she should be. But that was going to change, starting today. She looked down at Sally, knowing her “princess” hadn’t chosen the most comfortable shoes to wear to school that day. “Would you like to change your clothes and take a long walk on the beach?”

  “I can’t.” Sally plucked at the frilly apron covering her gingham school dress.

  Kristy studied her, recalling how much Sally had once liked wearing shorts and T-shirts. That had been before Lance died. Was this somehow connected to her husband’s death, too? Instead of just a “phase,” as she’d been assuming it was? “Why not?”

  Sally seemed to withdraw into herself as she studied the toe of her leather shoe. “Because.”

  “Because why not?”

  Sally plucked at the buckle on her shoe and admitted in a very small voice, “Daddy wouldn’t like it.”

  Suddenly, they were talking as if Lance was still here, impacting their daily lives with his definite and not always so supportive or encouraging opinions. Recalling how tough to please her perfectionist husband had been at times, Kristy pointed out kindly, “You used to wear shorts and T-shirts every day and it didn’t bother you.” Now only the ultratomboy, Susie, did that.

  Sally looked even more guilty and unhappy. “But Daddy always wanted me to wear dresses and tights and stuff, and I wouldn’t ’cause I didn’t want to, and that made him sad.”

  “I think Daddy was perplexed, honey, at the way you wanted to wear only play clothes back then.” It had been an ordeal to get her into a dress for a special occasion, Kristy recalled, and Lance had never been one to appreciate a little drama on the family front. “But he wasn’t sad.”

  “What’s purr-plexed?” Susie interjected.

  “Puzzled. Confused. Like he really didn’t understand little girls as much as he wanted to understand them.”

  “Oh.” Sally ate another pretzel while she thought about that.

  Kristy studied her daughter. “Is that why you want to wear dresses all the time now? And carry Daddy’s old beach towel around with you, so you can sit on it, and not get your clothes dirty?”

  Sally’s face contorted as she struggled with her most secret emotions. “I thought maybe Daddy would come back and see us if I got dressed up like he wanted me to, back when he was still ’live. You know?”

  Kristy knew. She had wanted to please Lance, too, and realized in the end, after all was said and done, that she had always come up short in his view. And that had hurt. She just hadn’t realized until now that the twins had also felt the harshness of his unspoken criticism.

  “And you girls figured this out all by yourself,” Kristy said out loud, doing her best to keep her own sense of failure to herself.

  They nodded.

  Sally rubbed the toe of her shoe in the sand. “Are you mad at us now that you know about that, too?” she asked warily.

  “No, honey,” Kristy said tenderly. Just a little embarrassed at how long it took me to catch on. “You know, it’s okay for you both to wear what you want.” And be who you are.

  “That’s okay, Mommy,” Sally and Susie said in unison.

  “We think we’ll just leave things the way they are,” Susie added.

  They might know intellectually it was impossible for their daddy to come back, but in their hearts, they still wanted him in their lives so they could have a complete family once again.

  Kristy understood that and empathized with their feelings, even as she felt increasingly anxious to put the marriage that had never once given her what she really needed or wanted behind her, so she could get on with her life, too. She’d thought, prior to those kisses from Connor, that she would be moving on without a mate. And that she’d be happy about her romantically unattached life. Now she wasn’t so sure. Because Connor’s kisses…well, they had stirred up a lot of things within her she thought were over. They had made her yearn to want—and be wanted—again.

  Kristy sighed inwardly as she turned her attention to the sun glistening off the blue-gray waters of the Atlantic. She didn’t know what she was going to do about that, either. Especially with their ongoing bet and Connor underfoot constantly for the next week, trying to simultaneously prove her wrong about him and win a date with her as his prize.

  “WELL? WHAT DO YOU THINK?” Winnifred asked, when the six of them had finished the meal she had prepared. Cooking all afternoon had left her hair disheveled, a warm blush of color in her cheeks, excitement in her Deveraux-blue eyes.

  Kristy couldn’t believe the social doyenne of Charleston had made such a kid-friendly meal. And so cheerfully and efficiently. Who would have known a woman who had never had children of her own would be so accomplished a chef? Or even want to do something like this, even if just to prove a point to her former butler, Harry Bowles?

  “The chicken fingers were yummy,” Susie said.

  Sally grinned. “I liked the mashed potatoes.�
��

  Connor patted his tummy. “You won me over with the crumb-topped pie.”

  Kristy grinned, too, and complimented Winnifred warmly. “It was all excellent.”

  “But you were surprised by the menu I chose, weren’t you?” Winnifred said with a sly smile.

  Kristy didn’t want to fib or to hurt the prominent socialite’s feelings. “Well, yes, actually, I was. It was the perfect choice for a low-key family dinner. But I can’t imagine you serving it often at the parties you give.”

  “You’re right. Those menus tend toward oysters in champagne cream sauce, and spinach torte. But neither would have been appropriate here, and the key to successful entertaining is pleasing your guests, rather than just the host.”

  “Ah. I’ll remember that,” Kristy said. She regarded Winnifred admiringly. “Perhaps while you’re here you could give me some tips on putting on memorable parties for conferences and so on?”

  “I’d be delighted to help you with that,” Winnifred said.

  Harry Bowles remained silent.

  Connor looked at him, and in an effort to ease the tension, queried pleasantly, “What did you think of the meal, Harry?”

  Harry rose with dignity and began to clear the dishes. He gave Winnifred a pleasant but aloof look. “Superb as always, madam.”

  Ooh, chilly, Kristy thought.

  Two spots of color appeared in Winnifred’s cheeks. She turned to Kristy and squared her slender shoulders purposefully. “Do I have a job?”

  Although Kristy doubted a sophisticated woman like Winnifred would last long as head chef at a small beach resort, she didn’t see how she could not hire her after such a wonderful culinary audition. “If you’re sure you want to cook three meals a day starting now,” she stipulated bluntly, more than willing to give her a chance if that was what Winnifred wanted. Kristy couldn’t, however, afford for her to take the job, then quit abruptly and leave her without a chef during the conference next week.

  “Contrary to some people’s opinion of me—” Winnifred shot a telling look at Harry “—I am not now nor have I ever been averse to a day’s work.”