by Marta Perry
He worked his way across the room, dodging the sticky hands of several small Caldwell cousins who’d escaped from the cake table. Miranda was trying to make room for a tray of glasses.
“Let me take that.” He grasped the metal tray and put it down on the space she cleared. She shot him a glance of thanks, followed by instant wariness.
She was still thinking about their last conversation, obviously. If he wanted this to work, he had to clear that up.
“Can we talk?”
Her steady gaze assessed him, then she nodded. “Yes, if you can talk while carrying the coffee in.”
“I can do that.”
He followed her through the door to the kitchen. It swung shut, cutting off the party clamor. The ensuing quiet was so startling his ears rang.
Miranda picked up another tray, this one filled with cups. “I’ll take this in, if you can bring the coffee urn.”
He put his hands over hers, setting the tray on the scrubbed pine table. “Wait just a second. Please,” he added.
“Whatever it is, can’t it wait?” She tried to pull away, but he held her hands fast.
“Nobody’s in that much of a hurry for coffee. You can give me a minute.”
Her green eyes turned stormy, but she nodded. “All right. A minute.”
“I’m sorry.”
Her hands stilled in his. “For what?”
“That conversation we had about going to Charleston—I said it all wrong.”
She was listening to him. He could let go of her hands. He didn’t want to.
“I understand. You want Sammy to go so he can see what kind of circles you move in.” Again that hint of vulnerability showed.
“I want the two of you to come so we can have a good time together,” he said firmly. “And I suppose I do want Sammy to see me on my own turf. That’s not such a bad thing, is it?”
“Are you saying I overreacted?” Her lips curved in the beginning of a reluctant smile.
The tension inside him eased. She was going to listen. “Maybe just a little.”
“Okay.” She let out a breath that was almost a sigh. “You’re right. Sammy should see you in a situation where you feel comfortable.”
Her comment startled him. Had he been acting uncomfortable?
“I like it here, Miranda. But we are kind of surrounded by family.”
“Especially today.” The corners of her eyes crinkled. “I know. You deserve some alone time with Sammy off the island and away from hordes of Caldwells.”
He smoothed his thumb over her knuckles. “So we’ll go?”
Her lashes swept down to hide her eyes, but she nodded.
“We’ll have a good time, I promise.” They would. He’d make sure of that.
Miranda would begin to see that they belonged together as a family. Maybe what he had to offer wasn’t a fairy-tale romance, but it would be good enough.
She had to learn to cope with Tyler’s world, or Sammy wouldn’t feel comfortable there. So this weekend was the challenge she had to face, no matter how she dreaded it. Miranda looked out the car window, watching signs and consulting the map as Tyler negotiated the narrow streets of downtown Charleston.
“Turning left at the next corner will take us toward the Battery.”
Tyler nodded, his face, in profile, relaxed. City traffic clearly wasn’t the monster to him that it had always been to her.
“I want to take a picture of the cannons.” Sammy leaned as far forward in the back seat as his seat belt would permit, brandishing the disposable camera his father had bought him for the trip. “I can take my pictures to school, can’t I?”
“Sure you can,” Tyler said. “We’ll make sure we get lots of them.”
Everything about him seemed at ease. As he’d said, he was on his own turf here. Charleston might not be that familiar to him, but it was a city, and the people they’d encounter were his colleagues.
They’d arranged to sightsee during the day, then go to Dan and Sheila Carpenter’s house in time to dress for dinner and the charity concert. Her stomach clenched at the thought, and she chastised herself for being such a wimp. The Carpenters were just people, after all.
The truth was, she was still a daughter in her father’s house, still living the simple life she’d always known. Gran had been right about that—Caldwell Island wasn’t a frontier for her.
She would find a way to adapt to this situation. She had to, for Sammy’s sake. It didn’t have anything to do with her relationship with Tyler, just Sammy. She sat up a little straighter. She could do anything for her son.
“There’s a parking lot.” She pointed. “I’m sure we can walk down to the Battery from here.”
Tyler pulled into the gravel lot, taking a ticket from the automatic dispenser. He gave her a quick smile. “Good navigating, Miranda.”
She folded the city map and slipped it into her bag. “I don’t mind reading the map, but I surely don’t like driving in the city.”
“Charleston is a challenge. These streets must not have been widened since horse-and-carriage days.”
“No, I suppose they haven’t.” The narrow streets, lined with elegant antebellum houses and pocket gardens tucked behind wrought-iron fences, seemed to take them a step back in time.
They got out, Sammy checking to be sure he had his camera and baseball cap.
“Did you know the War Between the States started at Fort Sumter?” Sammy fell in step with his father.
Tyler smiled at him. “I assume you mean the Civil War?”
Sammy grinned. “Don’t let Gran hear you call it that.”
The ease of their exchange warmed Miranda’s heart. Whatever the future held, this was how the relationship should be between Sammy and his daddy. Her son deserved what she had with her father. It had never been right to try to keep Sammy and Tyler apart.
I thought I was doing the right thing, Lord. Teach me how to look at myself more clearly. Show me how to make up for my mistakes.
She caught a glimpse of water ahead, and in a few minutes they’d emerged onto the wide walk and wall of the Battery. Out in the harbor, the twin forts that once protected the city had, no doubt, been invaded by tourists. The breeze from the water lifted her hair.
“Cannons,” Sammy said with satisfaction, pointing to the black cannons that lined the Battery. “I knew there’d be cannons.”
“Looks like there are some soldiers, too.” Tyler nodded to two young men in gray uniforms who leaned against the wall.
“They’re Citadel cadets,” Sammy said knowledgeably. “I thought I’d like to go to the Citadel when I get big enough, but Uncle David says if I want to study dolphins, like he does, I should go where he went to school in Florida. Then I can be an…an oceanographer.” He said the long word carefully.
They reached the wall, and Tyler leaned against it, looking at their son. “Is that what you want to be, an oceanographer?”
Was that disapproval in his voice? She couldn’t be sure. It might be, if Tyler envisioned Sammy taking over the company for him one day.
Sammy shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe.” He swung the camera up. “I’m going to take a picture of the cannon.” He darted off.
Tyler watched him run along the walkway. “That is one smart kid we have.”
“Of course he is.” She leaned against the wall next to him. She didn’t know whether or not to be offended that Tyler would even think he had to say it.
He focused on her, smiling. “Don’t get huffy. I just meant I’d probably never heard the word oceanographer when I was his age.”
“Well, Sammy’s grown up with the sea. You had other interests.”
Tyler shook his head, the smile fading a little as he stared at the water. He’d rolled back his sleeves, and his forearms were tanned against the cream-colored shirt. Seagulls swooped, wings sparkling in the sunlight.
“You mean my father had other interests. My future was predetermined. I had to take over the company. He just never thought it would
happen as soon as it did.”
“Is that what you hope for Sammy?” She forced her voice to be steady. “That he’ll take over the company one day?”
“I confess the thought crossed my mind when I met him. Why wouldn’t it?”
Before she could protest, he touched her hand where it rested on the wall.
“I know what you’re going to say, and you needn’t bother. Sammy gets to determine his own future. Whatever he wants to be is all right with me.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.” Thank you, Lord. That was one battle I didn’t want to fight.
“I don’t want to be the kind of father mine was.” His fingers closed over hers, and she felt the warmth all the way up her arm. “Unfortunately I don’t have any other models.”
“You’ll learn by doing,” she said, knowing it was true. “That’s all any of us can do.”
Just as she would learn to cope with his world by doing—beginning by staying with his friends and attending a social event. That was the only way she could help Sammy in the difficult adjustments he’d have to make when he started living with Tyler part of the time.
“Daddy, come see the cannon,” Sammy called. “I want to take your picture.”
“You’ve got it.” Tyler pushed away from the wall. He caught her hand as they walked toward their son, and she steeled herself for the inevitable tingle as their hands swung, palm to palm.
It doesn’t mean anything, she told herself desperately. Tyler has made that clear.
“You stand there with Momma.” Sammy pushed them into place next to the cannon. “I’ll take a picture.”
The cadets strolled by, and one of them stopped, smiling at Sammy. “Would you like me to take it so you can be in it, too?”
Sammy gave him an awestruck look, then nodded. “Thank you, sir. That would be very nice.”
He handed over the camera and scurried to pose next to his father. Tyler put his hand on their son’s shoulder, linking them.
A family portrait, she thought as the cadet snapped one picture, then another. We might be any happy family out for the day.
Her smile faltered at the pain in her heart. Her goal—learning to function in Tyler’s world to help Sammy—suddenly seemed a poor substitute for what she really wanted. For what she knew she’d never have.
They’d never be the happy family of the photo, because that wasn’t what Tyler wanted any longer.
“This is the house.” Tyler parked at the curb on the cobblestone street. “You’ll like the Carpenters.” At least, he hoped she would. He could feel Miranda’s nervousness from across the front seat.
He clasped her hand for an instant, telling himself he was only trying to convey assurance that this visit would be all right. He seemed to be doing that often lately—making an excuse to himself to touch her.
He got out, and Sammy came quickly to help him as he unloaded the bags.
“Look, Sammy. It’s a genuine Charleston historic home.” Miranda nodded at the bronze plaque set into the faded brick wall.
Tyler pushed open the filigree wrought-iron gate in the brick wall, and they stepped into a lush green garden with azaleas in full bloom. The house ran along the left side of the garden, and the brick walls lined the other sides, creating an oasis in the midst of the city.
A fountain with a graceful seahorse spout sprayed water in an arc, catching and reflecting a ray of sunshine that filtered through the sheltering live oaks.
“I’ve never seen anything quite like this.” Tyler set down the bags on the brick walk to close the gate. “It’s beautiful.”
Miranda’s face had tightened. “Yes. Your friends have a lovely home.”
Sammy had run ahead to peer into the fountain, but Tyler lowered his voice anyway. “Why does it bother you? Your uncle’s house is probably just as big.”
“It’s not the same. People don’t live in a house like this unless they’re part of Charleston society.”
“Maybe Dan is from an old Charleston family. It doesn’t matter. This is just business.”
What was she thinking? That this would be as difficult as those weeks in Baltimore had been?
She nodded, but the tense line of her jaw told him that his rationalization didn’t really help.
He clasped her elbow as they moved up the walk, hoping she knew he was on her side. But then, why would she feel any assurance of that? He should have been on her side when he’d taken her to Baltimore as his bride, and he hadn’t been able to help her then.
No, that was letting himself off too easy. He looked back with disgust at the callow boy he’d been then. He’d been so obsessed with filling his father’s shoes that he hadn’t given a thought to how his decisions affected Miranda. He should have known, he should have done better, he should have been smarter.
They’d both been too young when they fell in love, and they hadn’t known how to make it work. Now it was too late. He couldn’t offer her what he should have then, but he certainly could make an effort to see that she felt comfortable here.
“It’s business,” he said again as they stepped onto the piazza. “You’ll find both Dan and Sheila eager to make us welcome.”
She glanced up with a flicker of a smile. “Because you’re the big boss, you mean.”
The smile encouraged him. “Oh, I’m an important person, all right.” He lifted an eyebrow, holding her arm in a firm clasp. “Ready?”
She nodded, and he reached out to let the brass knocker fall.
Sheila Carpenter opened the door at once. “Come in, come in.” Her wide smile swept them into a cool, elegant hallway. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“It’s good to see you again, Sheila.”
He glanced around, trying to see what Miranda might find intimidating about the place. The spiral staircase that swirled upward without apparent support might take his breath away, and the portraits on the walls might be antebellum ancestors, but otherwise it was just a house.
“We’re just so happy to have y’all here.” Sheila clasped Miranda’s hand. Tall and blond, she was as elegant as her home, but genuine welcome shone in her wide blue eyes.
“It’s very kind of you to invite us.” There was no trace of nervousness showing in the warmth of her response.
“Our boy, Todd, is looking forward to having a guest.” Sheila smiled at Sammy. “This must be Sammy.”
Sammy shook hands with a grave courtesy that seemed inborn.
Tyler glanced from his son to Miranda. They both had that innate courtesy and dignity. With that and her native intelligence, Miranda could fit in anywhere. She just didn’t seem to have confidence in that fact.
She’d had it, once upon a time. His memory flashed him an image of the girl Miranda had been when he’d met her. She’d had such natural grace and such bright confidence. She’d been willing to take on anything. She’d lost that somewhere along the way.
No, not somewhere. She’d lost it when he’d swept her into a marriage neither of them had been ready for.
The guilt he’d denied for years burst out of hiding. Their marriage and what had happened to her as a result had robbed Miranda of her girlhood, her college education, her chance at the happy family she deserved.
What could he offer her that would make up for that?
Chapter Thirteen
Miranda took a deep breath, opened the bedroom door and stepped into the upstairs hall of the Carpenters’ house. She sank almost to her ankles, it seemed, in plush carpet.
Tyler waited under the amber glow of the wall sconces. He looked at her, not speaking, a portrait in black and white with his dark hair and dark eyes, his white shirtfront and black tuxedo.
She smoothed her hands nervously down the black silk of the evening pantsuit her sister had insisted she borrow.
“Well? Is this outfit all right?” Pitiful, a tiny voice in her mind taunted. You’re begging for a compliment from him.
“Very all right.” Tyler reached out to touch the curl she’d let fa
ll to her shoulder from her swept-back hair. “You look beautiful.”
Begged for or not, his words were good to hear. “It’s not me—it’s the clothes. Chloe got this outfit for the kickoff party when Dalton Resorts broke ground for the new hotel. She said it would be just right for tonight’s concert, but I wasn’t sure.”
“Chloe has good taste, but you’re wrong.” His fingertips trailed from her hair to her cheek, and she had to fight the longing to lean against him.
“I’m wrong about what?” How had her voice gotten so breathless?
“You are beautiful no matter what you wear.” He pressed his palm against her cheek, and heat rose to her skin where he touched. “Now just say thank-you instead of arguing.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, her senses swimming.
This was what she wanted—this kind of relationship with Tyler. She’d been kidding herself to think she could be happy with any less.
“What do you think? Are we all ready to go?” Dan asked the question as he and Sheila came out of a door farther along the hallway.
Sheila looked elegant in cream lace shot through with gold thread. Dan, like Tyler, wore a tuxedo, but to Miranda’s eyes he couldn’t hold a candle to Tyler’s dark good looks.
Tyler nodded. “We’re ready, and you and I are lucky. We’ll be the envy of every man there.”
Sheila laughed as she started down the open spiral staircase. “That’s what I like—a man who knows how to turn a compliment.”
Tyler took Miranda’s hand, slipping it into the crook of his arm. Her fingers closed on hard muscle.
“Smile,” he whispered as they reached the top of the staircase. “This evening will be fun.”
Fun, she thought, trailing her hand along the polished mahogany railing. This evening with Tyler wasn’t fun. It was magical.
She had seen no reason to change her mind by the time they arrived at the restaurant Dan had chosen on Bay Street. Tyler helped her from the car, and she felt like Cinderella alighting from her coach.
