by Marta Perry
“Hey, you said you didn’t want a fast-food burger.” Miranda bit into her sandwich with every sign of pleasure. “Shrimp rolls and sweet potato fries aren’t on most fast-food menus.”
He took a bite, nodded appreciatively and took another. At least Miranda had lost the mulish look she’d worn while insisting he take the money she offered.
He’d like to insist she accept all the support he’d missed out on the past eight years, but he was getting to know this grown-up version of the girl he’d married, and he knew she wouldn’t accept. One step at a time, that was the way to get what he wanted.
Now if he could just be sure what that was, he’d be all right.
Miranda set her iced tea glass on the blue-and-white checked tablecloth. Sweet tea, she’d called it. Another low-country thing, like shrimp rolls and sweet potato fries, he assumed.
“Did you manage to get things settled back at the office?” she said.
Are you going away? That was probably what she really wanted to ask him.
“I had a long conversation with Henry. He seems to think Josh is just nervous because he’s not used to my being out of the office, especially when a big deal is pending.”
She paused, roll halfway to her mouth. “Do you trust Henry’s opinions?”
That startled him. He wasn’t sure Henry, the perfect subordinate, had opinions.
“I trust Henry to do what I’ve instructed him to do. I’ve gone over every step of the deal with him, and I see no reason anything should go wrong.”
“It’s all right, then.”
“Yes.” He tried to ignore the niggling feeling of doubt. “I’ll talk with both Henry and Josh every day. By next Thursday it’ll be settled. The deal we’re offering is a good one. The buyers won’t get the quality of product we supply at a better price from anyone else.”
He glanced out the window at the marsh grasses bending in the breeze. What was he doing here when he had a deal pending? The Tyler Winchester he’d been a month ago wouldn’t have been caught dead anywhere but in the office, personally supervising every step of the deal.
But that Tyler Winchester hadn’t known he had a child. Sammy changed things, and Tyler was still trying to understand how.
Which reminded him of the answer he wanted. “Have you made a decision about going to Charleston with me on Saturday?”
Her lashes swept down, hiding her eyes. “Why is it so important to you?”
He reached across the table to grasp her hands, making her look at him. “This is for Sammy. I want him to see that I have another existence besides that of visiting dad. That’s a reasonable request, isn’t it?”
She looked as if she’d like to say no. “I suppose so. But we wouldn’t have to go to that benefit concert to show Sammy that. All of Charleston society will be there.”
“Is that what’s bothering you?” Why hadn’t he realized that? “You’ll do fine. You’ll probably be the prettiest woman there.”
“I won’t fit in.” She looked startled that she’d said it to him. “That sounds silly to you, I guess, but it’s true.”
He didn’t understand the emotion that lay beneath her words, but it warned him to proceed carefully.
“Not silly,” he said, clasping her hands. “But it is surprising. I haven’t seen you lacking any confidence in dealing with strangers. That’s what you do all the time at the inn, after all.”
“That’s different.” Her hands twisted in his, but she didn’t seem aware of the convulsive movement. “The inn is home. Believe me, I have vivid memories of how I didn’t fit in when we were married. It’s not an experience I’d care to repeat.”
It was the first time she’d spoken willingly of their marriage. He forced his mind to the couple of months that had changed both of their lives.
“I’m sorry,” he said slowly. “Maybe I was oblivious, but I didn’t realize the social side of things bothered you that much.”
“I was eighteen.” She yanked her hands free, anger flaring in her eyes. “I’d never been farther from home than Savannah. Of course it bothered me. I felt like a failure the whole time I was in Baltimore.”
“Miranda—” She obviously had painful memories he hadn’t even guessed at. “I didn’t realize. I’m sorry I was so blind to what you felt.”
Her brief flash of anger went out. “Forget it.”
He didn’t want to forget. He wanted to explain it in some way that would get both of them off the hook.
“My father’s death pitched both of us into something we weren’t ready for.”
She tried an unconvincing smile. “There’s no point in going over something that happened a lifetime ago. We were different people then.”
“That’s my point. You’re not eighteen now. You have enough poise and maturity to run the inn and raise our son. You can take on a few of my business associates, can’t you?”
Her smile turned a bit more genuine. “You sound like Gran.”
That seemed highly unlikely. “What did your grandmother say?”
“That I was a Caldwell woman, and they’re not afraid of anything. They took on the island and tamed it back when it was the wild frontier.” She gave a little laugh. “I told her I’d rather tackle an alligator than a society party, and she said that was the point. That the thing I feared was my frontier.”
“Your grandmother’s a wise woman.”
“She is.” Miranda’s gaze swept up to touch his face. “I don’t want to disappoint her. So I guess I’ll be going on Saturday.”
His fingers closed over hers again. “I’m glad.”
He felt unreasonably exhilarated at having gotten his way. But if Miranda was this skittish about a weekend in Charleston, what would she say if he broached the subject that had been hovering in the back of his mind for the past day or two?
What would Miranda say if he told her he thought the best way of taking care of Sammy was for them to get married again?
Tyler should look as out of place as a duck at a wedding, and instead he looked perfectly at ease as he guided her cousin Matt’s blindfolded youngest toward the piñata they’d hung from the dining room archway.
Well, she’d wanted him to be comfortable with the whole family here for Sammy’s birthday party. She just hadn’t expected him to find it that easy.
After their trip the day before to pick up the bicycle, they seemed to have moved to a different level of understanding. She was still trying to figure out what it was.
“You’ve got to give the man credit.” Her sister, Chloe, stopped pouring lemonade long enough to nod toward Tyler. “He’s trying.”
“Tyler doesn’t just try,” she said. He was holding the toddler up so she could get in a good swing with the plastic bat. “He stayed off the phone and away from the computer all day, he helped me decorate, he even gave Daddy a hand with the pork barbecue. He’s being so perfect it makes me want to scream.”
Chloe laughed, her lively face filled with the serenity it had acquired since her marriage to Luke Hunter. “Honey, perfection is usually considered a good thing in a man.”
“I keep trying to remind myself why I’m no longer Mrs. Tyler Winchester,” she said with mock severity. “It doesn’t help to have everyone singing his praises all of a sudden.”
“Singing his praises?” Chloe raised her eyebrows. “Sugar, that doesn’t sound like the brothers I know and love.”
“Well, maybe not the twins,” she admitted. “But even they said he wasn’t half bad after he took over hanging the decorations so they didn’t have to.”
“So what’s wrong?” Chloe slipped an arm around Miranda’s waist. “Don’t you want Sammy’s dad to get along with everyone?”
Was she really being that selfish? “I suppose so,” she said. “It just makes me wonder what he’s up to.”
Chloe gave her a squeeze. “Never look a helpful man or a gift horse in the mouth.” She picked up the tray of glasses. “I never do.”
But Chloe was secure in the lov
e of the man who’d been meant for her. And Miranda was…nervous.
Nervous about this suddenly charming and cooperative Tyler. Nervous about the weekend in Charleston she’d committed herself to. And nervous about what the future held.
Please. She snatched a moment for what Gran always called a prayer on the run. Let this family gathering show Tyler what Sammy has here. Let him understand that he can’t make big changes in Sammy’s life.
That sounded like she was telling God what to do rather than asking for His guidance. Still, she clung to her plea stubbornly. She did know what was best for Sammy, didn’t she?
She batted away one of the helium-filled balloons that floated around the room, bumping on the ceiling. A huge balloon bouquet had arrived unexpectedly that morning with a card signed Uncle Josh. Sammy had looked astonished.
“Do I have an uncle Josh?”
“That’s my brother,” Tyler had explained.
Now that she thought of it, Tyler had looked almost as surprised as Sammy. Apparently he hadn’t expected this of his brother.
The piñata split open. Candy and small toys scattered on the floor. Tyler stood back, watching with a smile as the kids rushed to snatch them up.
Then he looked at her, the smile lingering, growing softer, more personal.
It was as if he’d reached across the room and touched her cheek. A wave of warmth swept over Miranda, and her fingers fumbled with the candles she was putting on the cake.
Tyler worked his way through the horde of small children to her side. “Can I help you with that?”
She handed him the candles. “You do it. I seem to be all thumbs.”
He arranged candles on the huge sheet cake decorated with dolphins and seashells. “Quite a party. Do you always go all out for birthdays?”
“Well, only the kids get piñatas, but everyone gets a party. It’s a good excuse for cake and ice cream.”
He frowned, adjusting the position of one candle as if it displeased him. “Another tradition, in fact.”
“I guess so. All families have birthday traditions, don’t they?”
“I don’t know. I was always away at boarding school on my birthday. My mother sent a gift, but that was about all.”
At Tyler’s mention of boarding school, she felt as if a cold draft had blown through the room, extinguishing the candles.
“You…you’re not thinking of boarding school for Sammy, are you?” She could never agree to that.
He straightened, the smile wiped from his face. “I did think that at first. It’s what seems natural to me. My brother and I never questioned that we’d go off to boarding school when we were eight.”
Her heart cramped at the thought of the boy he’d been. “I couldn’t let you do that to Sammy.”
“Relax. I’ve given up that idea.” He glanced around the room. “Sammy shouldn’t be away from family.”
She could breathe again. “I’m glad you see that.”
He frowned, his dark eyes serious. “That doesn’t mean I’ll let you have everything your way. Sammy has to learn to be a part of the outside world, too.”
“Is that what this trip to Charleston is?” Fear made her voice sharp. “Some kind of test to see how Sammy does there?”
“Of course not.” His voice was even sharper than hers, and the cooperative Tyler who’d been around all day seemed to vanish. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Miranda. I’ve already told you—I just want Sammy to see the world I function in, because someday he’ll have to function there, too.”
“It didn’t work very well when I tried it.” Apprehension about the weekend forced the words out.
That reminder seemed to rattle him. For a moment she didn’t think he’d reply, but then he shook his head, face somber.
“I admit I didn’t do a good job of introducing you to my world, Miranda. But then, you never really tried to fit in, did you?”
“That’s not fair.” She lowered her voice to a furious whisper. “I didn’t have the least idea what I was getting into, and you didn’t help.”
“We both made mistakes.” He spoke quietly, although no one in the chattering crowd could possibly hear them. “We were both too young to do it right.” His hand closed around her wrist, and her pulse thundered against his palm. “I won’t make the same mistake with our son. I promise you that.”
She wasn’t sure whether to consider that a promise or a threat.
Chapter Twelve
“Miranda looks upset.” Gran Caldwell planted herself in front of Tyler, letting the party swirl around them. Her voice was tart, and her eyes snapped at Tyler.
He glanced toward the table where Miranda and her sister were rapidly cutting cake and passing pieces out. He could protest that she was busy with the birthday party, but he suspected a half-truth wouldn’t sit well with Miranda’s grandmother.
“We had a misunderstanding.” He tried not to let exasperation show in his voice. Didn’t Miranda see that he had a right to expose their son to the wider world?
“Be better for Sammy if his parents understood each other.”
Miranda’s grandmother certainly had a point there. It was what he believed, too. Unfortunately, every time he thought he and Miranda were reaching that point, some unwary remark opened a chasm between them.
The buzz of conversation and the high voices of the children effectively masked anything he and Mrs. Caldwell might say to each other. Still, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be having this talk with her.
“We’re still trying to figure out how to deal with this situation,” he said. How impolite would it be to slip away from the lecture Miranda’s grandmother undoubtedly had in mind?
The frilly pink party hat that sat atop Gran’s coronet of gray hair bobbed. “I reckon it’s not easy. But then, change never is.”
He glanced at her, a little surprised by the comment. “I wouldn’t have thought change was something that came very often to Caldwell Island. Everywhere I turn, I trip over one tradition or another.”
“Change comes to everybody, no matter where they live.” She patted a child who ran by, but her gaze was still focused on him. “Caldwell Island might look the same to you as it did eight years ago, but it’s changed beyond all recognition since I was a girl.”
“I suppose it has.” This elderly woman couldn’t imagine the changes that took place daily in the world he lived in.
“You’re thinking I don’t know a thing about how you live.”
Her perception startled him again, and he could see she knew that and enjoyed it.
“I didn’t mean to offend you.”
She patted his arm, her heavily veined hand surprisingly strong. “You don’t have to worry about being polite to me, son. You just have to worry about doing your best for Sammy and Miranda.”
“The tricky part is deciding just what the best is.” That was the thought that haunted him, but he surprised himself by saying it to her.
“Our Miranda has strong feelings about raising her son.”
Gran Caldwell looked across the room, and he followed her gaze to where Miranda was seating children around the oval wooden table they’d covered with a bright red birthday cloth. She was passing out plates of cake and simultaneously refereeing some dispute.
The denim skirt and aqua shirt Miranda wore outlined her slender figure. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen her wear anything that didn’t look good on her. Not stylish, maybe, and certainly not expensive, but that didn’t seem to matter.
“She comes from a long line of strong women.” Gran’s eyes twinkled. “Opinionated, too.”
“I’ve noticed that.” His lips creased in an unwilling smile. The woman had him, and she knew it.
She patted his arm again with what he might imagine was affection. “Talk to her. She’ll listen if she knows you respect her opinion. You can’t understand each other if you’re not willing to do that.”
Apparently having said what she intended to, Miranda’s grandmother moved off. He le
t his gaze drift to Miranda again.
She had stepped back a little from the table, letting her father snap a photo of Sammy with his cake. Her gaze rested on their son, and he saw a vulnerability in her expression that he hadn’t recognized before.
Strong, yes. Her grandmother was right about that. But Miranda was vulnerable, too, in spite of being surrounded by people who loved her. Whether she knew it or not, she needed a man to share things with, a man she could depend on.
And how exactly did that fit into the idea he had been struggling with for the last few days—the thought that he and Miranda should marry again?
That would be best for Sammy, wouldn’t it? He’d have both his parents, and he wouldn’t have to feel split between them.
They’d need to work something out so that Sammy and Miranda still spent plenty of time on the island. He knew Miranda would never agree to anything else. Besides, he’d grown to respect the heritage his son had here.
Marriage would affect him and Miranda, too, obviously, as well as Sammy. As for himself, he’d decided a long time ago that marriage wasn’t for him. He’d never settle for the kind of relationship his parents had had, and his attempt to create something different with Miranda had ended in a dismal failure.
He couldn’t offer Miranda that fairy-tale romance they’d once thought they could have. He wasn’t even sure such a thing existed.
Probably even happily married people like Miranda’s parents eventually settled for mutual respect and friendship. Wasn’t it reasonable for him and Miranda to start out that way the second time around?
This could be right for all three of them, but he had to move cautiously. Miranda’s grandmother had it right—he and Miranda had to understand each other before they could forge a new relationship. He had to be patient.
Unfortunately, patience wasn’t one of his better qualities. He was used to choosing a goal and charging toward it, pushing aside anything that stood in his way.
He imagined the weekend trip to Charleston as a positive step toward making Miranda see that they should be together as a family. If that were going to happen, he had to make peace with her right now.
