by Lisa Wingate
I chewed my lip, tried to think. I wanted to believe him. “How confident are you?”
“Pretty confident.” He looked down at his hands, slowly rubbing his palms together, considering the implications. “Does it amount to a risk for you? Yes, of course it does. Selling the necklace to a private collector is a sure thing.” He stood up, came closer.
I felt his nearness, had an electric sense of it. I had no idea what to do with that, but it pulled me in.
“Whitney, sometimes the things that matter most involve the greatest risk.” He reached across the space between us, his palm skimming my cheek, a shock at first, and then I leaned into the pull, turning away from the window and toward something I’d imagined more times than I wanted to admit.
When Mark kissed me, it was as if I’d already known how it would feel, as if he were made for me and I for him. The scent of his skin, the curve of his body felt natural and perfect and right. There was no fear, just the sense that this was not only worth the risk … but worth any risk.
A flock of seagulls flew by, leaving Shallowbag Bay for their nighttime roosting places. I tipped back my head, watched them soar over the Excelsior and disappear. Taking in a deep draft of air, I listened to the harbor sounds, exhaled all the way to my core. This place that had both repelled and terrified me only a week ago was slowly beginning to feel like … home?
I let the thought twirl in the breeze, looking at it from all directions as I caught a few breaths of solitude while Mark, Kayla, and Joel helped Clyde down the stairs. We’d sat for a bit on the second floor before deciding that it was past suppertime and our discussion could be moved to the restaurant down the block. There were details to work out, but we’d kicked around the idea of Joel staying at the Excelsior with Clyde for a while after I headed back to Michigan. There was plenty of space. Clyde needed companionship, as well as physical help. Joel needed someone to keep him out of trouble. The two seemed as though they might be good for one another, and with Joel there to do doggy care, Ruby could stay.
I hoped it wasn’t all just wishful thinking. I needed this to work out, at least for now. I couldn’t hang on here much longer, which was part of the reason I’d moved ahead on the slow trip downstairs. I wanted a moment to gather my thoughts. Gazing down the block, I thought of Clyde and my mother, having their Sunday dinners and their walks around the marina. She must’ve loved those quiet, peaceful strolls. She must have loved this place, and him.
And even though she had, that didn’t mean she’d loved my father, or me, any less. The heart is a wellspring. It has infinite capacity to manufacture love. The only barriers are the ones we put in the way.
I’d been wrong to oppose her seemingly impulsive marriage to Clyde, to try to spoil it by withholding my enthusiasm, to put conditions on my love. If only I’d known their story, maybe we could’ve made peace between the three of us while there was still time.
The thing about mistakes is, they become valuable when you learn from them. I wouldn’t live my life that way anymore, always holding back, always protecting myself, always clinging to the fear that love would end in pain.
It was time to let go of the damaged little girl inside the woman, and I was finally ready.
The hotel door opened, and I realized how much I was going to miss everyone once I was back in Michigan. I’d found myself, here in this little town by the sea. As always, the Outer Banks had a magic all its own. I didn’t want to leave it behind. Would things be the same between Mark and me when he flew to Michigan in a couple weeks to talk about the legal case?
Yet the real world was rattling its chain, growling and snapping and demanding attention. After my meeting at Benoit House tomorrow, I would spend one more night in Manteo before saying good-bye, crossing the bridge, and leaving Roanoke Island behind.
As I watched our motley crew exit the hotel, the time for good-bye loomed far too near.
Clyde shook Joel off his arm, taking his cane and insisting that he could proceed on his own, now that they were on level ground. “Calm down, son. I can make it. I’m just slower. Trouble with you young folks is y’all think everythin’s gotta happen this minute.”
Mark looked back at me as they jaywalked across the side street. “Whitney, you coming? Dinner’s on me.”
Grabbing my phone, I snapped a picture of the group, a memory to keep when I went home. Michigan suddenly seemed so very far away as I turned to cross over and catch up with them.
A honk stopped me with one foot dangling over the curb. I lost my balance, had the sudden flash of myself facedown on the pavement. The moment hung in freeze-frame for an instant before I stumbled back to the curb, then blew out the tension. Look both ways, Whitney. I was so busy worrying about the future, I’d almost gotten myself run over in the present.
Rolling my palms upward, I sent a chagrined look across the street. What can I say? I’m a doofus. Mark might as well know now. Hyperfocus was definitely one of my issues. It wasn’t the first time I’d almost stepped into a street without checking.
Oddly, Mark didn’t laugh or shake his head. He wasn’t even looking at me. Instead, he was just … watching, his head tilted, his chin slightly forward, a finger running along his bottom lip.
What … was going … ?
The moment seemed to stretch again, take on the quality of a slow-motion film. I swiveled, followed Mark’s line of sight, saw the gold BMW convertible pull up to the curb. Casey Turner exited, a breeze fanning the stack of papers in his hand.
Every ounce of blood in my body drained to my feet and oozed onto the curb. I’d forgotten all about Casey as the rest of us sat, heads together in the Excelsior, making plans. Other than a vague thought that I needed to call and tell him not to bother working up a deal—and that I’d better be prepared for the hard sell, because he wasn’t going to like that answer—I hadn’t dealt with this issue. I’d had no idea he would rush the paperwork through and show up here tonight. How was that even possible?
Because he had the paperwork ready before you ever talked to him. He was confident he could get you to go through with it.
Casey Turner was always confident.
“Hey there, pretty lady!” In three short steps he was planting a kiss on my cheek in a way that felt—and undoubtedly looked—intimate. “Glad I caught you. I’ve got your contract all set, just like we talked about this morning. Curbside service.” His voice traveled down the street and drifted toward the water, out of place like a tornado siren disturbing the peace of what had been a perfect evening.
I was conscious of one thing in the pause that followed. Utter silence. Not a sound. No voices chatting, no ribbing between Joel and Clyde, no pop-swish-pop of the rubber grip on Clyde’s cane grabbing the sidewalk, then releasing.
Everything halted as Casey slid closer, holding the clipboard so that both of us could see. Licking a finger, he turned the page. “I went ahead and bundled it all into the contract—the offering price on the Excelsior, the pay-in on the retirement apartment for your stepfather—I assume you had the talk with him when you got home. Of course we hope to get him approved for housing aid, which would reduce that. But it’s not a problem. We can rebate the difference, post-contract. We’ve also included the charge for an estate service to clean out the building here, as well as transportation of the containers and an estimated one-year rental on an appropriate climate-controlled storage facility. Basically, they’ll take care of everything, just as we discussed, before the teardown begins. Completely turnkey. Simple as pie.”
“Casey, I …” My brain was still reverberating, shell-shocked. I tried to shake it off, gather my wits, but all I could think about were the spectators just a few feet away on the opposite curb. They’d trusted me. They’d believed in me. They were hearing all of this.
Casey glanced at his watch. “Thought we could get it signed and still have time for dinner. How about our old spot at the Black Pelican?”
“Casey …”
“Another walk on the beach
afterward? Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky this time and see a turtle wandering up to nest. Either way, it’s perfect weather for—”
“Casey.”
“Some time under the stars. A little moonlight.” He leaned close again, whispered the last words against my ear. “A little champagne to celebrate.”
“Stop. Just stop.” I stepped away, noticed Kellie standing by the door of her jewelry shop, openmouthed. She slowly turned her attention across the street, and I did as well, but I knew what must be happening there.
The expressions on those faces were exactly what I’d expected to find. Horror. Shock. The burn of complete betrayal.
I turned back to Casey, angry, numb, embarrassed. Caught in my own web of deception. Lies with the best intentions still break trust. My mother used to say that to her students. “I had no idea you were coming here with paperwork.”
Whether Casey was genuinely surprised or putting on a performance, I couldn’t tell. He was a man accustomed to having deals go his way. He was good at what he did, obviously. “Don’t worry about a thing. A touch of cold feet is perfectly natural. But you and I had a verbal agreement, Whitney. None of this should be coming as any surprise.”
“We … what? We did not.”
Chin cocking back, he gave me the fish eye. The expression dissolved into a knowing grin. “Ohhh … now … don’t tell me you’ve decided to play a little last-minute hardball. This offer is everything we talked about and more. It’s an outstanding offer. Let’s go out to dinner. We’ll walk through it piece by piece again, give you a chance to ask questions.”
“I’m not ready to do anything with the Excelsior.” I took another step away, putting distance between us. “And I have dinner plans.”
“Whitney, don’t be shortsighted. I know there’s some emotional attachment here, but this building is an albatross. Think about how much unhappiness it’s already brought you. And there’s no way you can afford to renovate it and get it up to code. It’ll bleed you dry … and that’s if nothing catastrophic turns up when you start knocking down walls. Black mold, structural damage, rot, termites, asbestos … there are any number of issues that could keep this place from ever passing muster.”
I stared at him, my mouth gaping. Did I hear a veiled threat hiding in there? This was like dealing with Tagg Harper. “The Excelsior. It has a name, Casey. And it’s mine. I’m not signing any papers.”
Pulling away from him, I stepped off the curb and waited for a car to drift by. All of a sudden, there was traffic.
On the opposite side, Kayla and Joel were clustered around Clyde, supporting him as he hobbled down the sidewalk, gaining as much distance as he could. Mark squinted at me as if he were eyeing a stranger.
“Mark, wait! Just let me explain.”
“I think we’ve heard enough, Whitney. Nice move. Really nice. Way to subdue the opposition while you were making your own plans.” Shaking his head, he turned and started after the group.
“Stop!” I called again. “We need to talk.”
But when he paused, turned back to me, the change was undeniable. The look in his eyes was stone cold. “That was actually very clear. Great job on playing everyone. Congratulations on that, I guess. You could’ve just been honest from the beginning. It would have at least given us a few more days to decide what to do before you take a wrecking ball to the place.” His hand sailed rapidly through the air, indicating the hotel.
“Your mama would be ashamed!” Down the street, Clyde tottered as he shook a fist at me. “You ain’t worth a plug nickel. And you ain’t gettin’ me outta that buildin’ til they take me out in a box.”
He stumbled, and Joel caught him by the arm. “Come on, Clyde, let’s just go get dinner.” He tried to guide my stepfather toward the restaurant, but Clyde shrugged off the help and struggled on alone. Mark turned to follow.
Casey was coming toward me, his hands outstretched, palms and clipboard up. “Whitney, for heaven’s sake, let’s go somewhere and sit down. We’ll talk it through.”
I wheeled around, stabbing a finger in the air. I wanted to deliver a right hook to the jaw, but this whole thing was as much my fault as anyone’s. I couldn’t just trust. I couldn’t just have faith that, like Alice’s journey in the mountains, my journey here had a reason, a God-given plan that was beyond my understanding. I had to craft a backup strategy—something I had control of.
“Just leave me alone!” I didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, I turned and started running, the streets of old Manteo—houses, racks of rental bicycles, fences, flower beds—passing in a blur.
I ran until I couldn’t anymore. Until I was winded and boneless, my legs rubbery and heavy as I staggered along sidewalks, sweat-drenched, my mind faltering and falling, trying to find someplace to stand firm. This felt like an old waking nightmare, like all the times I’d tried to sort out why my father had chosen to abandon us, why he didn’t love us enough to stay … and how, after all these years, I could still be so broken by his decisions.
Maybe I’d been fooling myself when I thought I could change, become something new. Maybe something in me was damaged beyond repair—God’s or anyone else’s. Maybe I would always choose the wrong relationships, trust the wrong people. Mark and Casey were nothing more than two sides of the same coin. They both wanted what I had, and they were using me to get it. With Mark, it was worse. I’d let my guard down, fallen for it all the way. I shouldn’t have.
I wouldn’t make that mistake again. Ever.
They could forget it. All of them could forget it. If ruthless was what they expected, then they’d find out just how ruthless I could really be… .
By the time I returned to the hotel building, anger and mosquitoes had driven me half mad. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone, but the lights were on upstairs, which meant that Clyde had come home. Just the idea of starting into the battle was almost more than I could face.
I circled the block, walking stiff-armed, shoring up defenses, trying to center myself and firm up my resolve. You don’t owe Clyde anything. Not one thing. He’s already gotten far more than he deserves.
But in the back of my mind, there was the image of my mother and Clyde as young lovers on a wintry day, laughing as she tripped over her snowshoes and tumbled into the drifts. I didn’t want that picture. But it was there. It shared space with Joel’s lopsided smile and Ruby-the-dog, her hip bones and ribs still poking out beneath saggy skin. Her big, sad eyes. There was Mark. With the kiss. With everything. Everything I wanted … and in one careless, crazy moment, thought I could have. Now the door that I’d opened wouldn’t close again. Not neatly, anyway. The wood had swelled in the salt air. It no longer fit into the old frame.
Somehow, I had to plug the gap, to remind myself that I had been doing just fine without any of these people a week ago, and I would again. Mark was just one more man who couldn’t be trusted.
I gathered my resolve as I went upstairs. Clyde, of course, was waiting in his favorite chair, loaded for bear.
“You get outta my house,” he growled. There was actually a shotgun propped beside him. What he intended to do with that, I couldn’t imagine.
“You can bet I will.” I marched into the room, stood across from him, started gathering the plastic sleeves that held Alice’s letters … and Clyde’s hard work. Our hard work. Those long hours of discovering the past together seemed light-years away now. We were right back where we’d always been. I hate you and you hate me. Simple. Easy to understand. “I’ll be out of here first thing in the morning. And these letters are going with me. They’re mine.”
“That’s all you’re takin’. I’ll make sure of it.” A hand slid toward the shotgun. For a moment, he seemed serious in the intention.
“Like I really believe you’re going to use that thing, Clyde. And you know what? I am taking some of my mother’s keepsakes with me. There was nothing in the will that said you got to hold those things prisoner. And as far as this building goes, you and your frien
ds can have it for now. Let it fall in around your ears. It’s one less thing for me to take care of, and so are you.”
Whether my shot hit the mark or not, I couldn’t say, but it ricocheted and struck me. Stop, Whitney, this isn’t who you are. Just let it go. Let them go. Move on. Don’t sink to their level.
Fingernails bit into my skin as I pulled the reins on my runaway temper. “I’ll be gone in the morning.”
Clutching the letters, I left the room, not waiting for him to offer any more threats. My plans had solidified while I was walking around being eaten by mosquitoes. I’d decided on a few mementos I wanted to claim. I’d mentally packed my bags. Depending on what time Tandi Chastain set the meeting tomorrow, I would either stay on Hatteras overnight afterward or start my trip home. If I needed to, I’d scrounge up the money for a hotel, maybe hang out and sip coffee on the back deck of Sandy’s Seashell Shop. Forget that this nightmare in Manteo even happened. As soon as my business here was done, I’d shake the dust of this place from my feet. I wouldn’t be coming back until sometime in the future, when Clyde was finally gone from the building.
I called Denise once I was safely in my bedroom with the door closed. I needed to talk to someone. It wasn’t until she answered, sounding haggard and tired, that I realized a depressing information dump from me wouldn’t help lighten her load. I swallowed my rant and instead told her I’d be starting for home Monday or Tuesday, depending on the meeting.
“I’m glad,” she sighed. “Whit, I know you’ve had a hard time there, and I haven’t wanted to make it any worse, but I really do need you here. Jason and his girlfriend broke up, and he ditched work all week. Luckily, I called some of the crew that chose not to come over with us from Tazza 2, and Eric’s new job hadn’t panned out, so I hired him. Then, of course, Jason shows up yesterday and asks for his job back. The fact is that Jason’s better and faster, and he never gets the plates wrong. Eric’s not good about looking back at the tickets and he’ll try to cheat on the sauces. But I can’t fire Eric. He dropped everything and came when I was desperate. So I just had to tell Jason that, as soon as I’ve got a space, I want him back.”
