David’s chuckle came through the earpiece. “You’ve got a few years on me, Cuz, so you’re first. I have to hang up because I have a meeting with a new client. Call me if Kara is having trouble with her new family.”
“No problem,” Jeff promised.
He ended the call, then slipped the cell phone into the case attached to his gun belt. He was walking out of his office when his clerk, Winnie Powell, entered the police station through the back door.
Winnie smiled, her bright blue eyes sparkling like blue topaz. She fluffed up her short, curly hair. “It looks like rain.”
He returned her smile. “We could use a little of that.” The winter had been unusually dry. “I’m going over to Angels Landing.”
Winnie nodded as Jeff headed out of the station. Once in the parking lot that served the town hall, courthouse, and police station, the humidity wrapped around him like a wet blanket. He got into the Jeep and started the engine. The vehicle had been emblazoned with a sheriff logo on the passenger-side doors and refitted with a partition separating the front seats from the rear ones. Within minutes of driving, the rain had begun as Winnie predicted, the sound of the wipers breaking the silence.
Slowing to ten miles an hour, Jeff drove through downtown Sanctuary Cove, passing Jack’s Fish House, the town square with its fountain and marble statue of patriot militia General Francis Marion atop a stallion, and the Cove Inn, the town’s boardinghouse. Once he’d taken over as sheriff, he’d convinced the town council to lower the town’s speed limit to fifteen miles an hour because there were no traffic lights in the Cove and to discourage teenagers from drag racing. Amazingly, there hadn’t been posted speed limits for years.
Maneuvering onto an unpaved road, he shifted into four-wheel drive. A marker pointing the way to Angels Landing came into view, and Jeff turned onto Palmetto Lane and headed to the house that had given this section of Cavanaugh Island its name. The few times he’d come to Angels Landing, Jeff felt as if he’d stepped back in time. The antebellum mansion at the end of a live oak allée was breathtaking with its columned, wraparound porch. The rose-colored limestone Greek Revival home, with its pale pink marble columns and black-shuttered tall windows, had been one of the finest homes on the island.
Jeff parked next to the vintage Mercedes-Benz sedan that had belonged to Taylor Patton. Reaching for his cap on the passenger seat, he pulled it on. The rain was now a steady drizzle as he sprinted to the front door, which opened as he wiped his boots on the thick rush mat.
“Why, if it isn’t Corrine Hamilton’s grandbaby boy. What brings you out this way?”
Jeff took off his cap and curbed the urge to roll his eyes upward. The petite woman and her groundskeeper husband had worked for the Pattons for longer than he could remember. He also wanted to remind Mrs. Todd that at forty he had left boyhood behind many years before.
“Good afternoon, Miss Iris. I’m here to see Ms. Kara Newell. Is she in?”
Mrs. Todd’s dark eyes narrowed suspiciously behind her rimless glasses. “Did she do something, son?”
Jeff tightened his grip on his cap. It was apparent that the housekeeper had transferred her loyalty from Taylor to his daughter within weeks of his death. Those who lived on Cavanaugh Island joked that it was easier to gain access to the Oval Office than to cross the threshold to this historic house.
“No, she didn’t, Miss Iris. David Sullivan asked me to look in on her.”
Mrs. Todd opened the door wider. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” She smiled. “Follow me. She’s in the garden room.”
Jeff shook his head in amazement as he followed the elderly woman, who was dressed in a crisp gray uniform that matched the coronet of braids atop her head. It had been years since he’d stepped foot into the house, but like the exterior, nothing had changed. It had the same vases, lamps, tables, and chairs. Mrs. Todd directed him down a narrow carpeted hallway to a doorway on the south side of the property.
He stopped at the entrance to a room filled with potted plants, trees, and flowers. The sound of soft music flowed from somewhere in the indoor oasis. His gaze shifted to the housekeeper when she approached the woman reclining in a cushioned chaise and spoke quietly to her.
Jeff felt his heart stop when Kara Newell swung her long, slender, bare legs over the chaise and stood up to face him.
She was absolutely stunning. Anyone familiar with the Pattons would recognize the startling resemblance between Kara and her paternal grandmother Theodora—or Teddy as she had been affectionately called by her husband. His gaze went from her tousled hair, pulled up in a short ponytail, to the tawny face with large hazel eyes, cute button nose, and lushly curved full lips, then lower to a white tank top and olive-green shorts. Each time she took a breath, the swell of her breasts were visible above the top’s neckline. Scolding himself, he focused his attention on her face rather than staring at her chest. She was slim but had curves in all the right places.
He inclined his head. “Ms. Newell.”
Kara smiled and offered her hand. “Please call me Kara.”
Taking three long strides, Jeff grasped her hand, holding it gently within his much larger one. “Jeff Hamilton.”
“David told me you would stop by. Would you like to sit down?”
“Thank you.” He waited until Kara sat on a pull-up chair at a small round table covered with a floral tablecloth before sitting on the matching one.
A pair of eyes with glints of gold and green met his. “May I offer you something to eat or drink?” Kara asked Jeff.
“No, thank you.” He crossed one jean-covered knee over the other. “Have you settled in?”
Kara assumed a similar pose, staring at the polish on her bare toes. “There’s not going to be much settling in. I’ll only be here a week.”
Leaning forward, Jeff lowered his leg, planting both feet on the worn rug. “Are you telling me that you don’t plan to live here?”
“No, I’m not telling you that.”
“Then what is it you’re not saying?”
“Why do I get the impression that you’re interrogating me, Sheriff Hamilton?”
Jeff’s impassive expression did not change with her accusation. “If I were interrogating you, Kara, you wouldn’t have to ask. All I want is a yes or no as to whether you plan to live on Cavanaugh Island.”
“I can’t give you a yes or no, Sheriff Hamilton.”
“It’s Jeff.”
“Okay, Jeff. As I said, I can’t answer that question right now. I promised David I would spend a week on the island before making a decision. Only two hours ago I was told the man I believed to be my father isn’t.” She looked away from him, trying to hold back the tears forming in her eyes. “When I walked into that conference room earlier this morning and saw people staring at me who look like me… to say it was a shock is putting it mildly. Then I was told that I’ve inherited a house, two thousand acres of land that my so-called relatives want me to sell to a group of greedy developers, and I must live here for five years. If I do so, it means I have to resign from my job, give up my Manhattan apartment, which has an incredible view of the East River, and lose contact with a group of friends I’ve become extremely close to.”
“Yes, I can understand how difficult that may be. Not only will you have to uproot your entire life, but you’ll also have to deal with the family issue.” Jeff lifted his broad shoulders under a long-sleeved chambray shirt. “The upside is you can always get another job and make new friends. And instead of views of the river, you’ll have views of the ocean.”
Kara folded her arms across her chest. “You make it sound so easy.”
A hint of a smile tilted the corners of Jeff’s mouth. “Because it is. I gave up a military career to come back here to take care of my grandmother.”
“That’s different.”
“You think so, Kara?”
“Of course it is. There is no discussion when it comes to family. You do what you have to do,” Kara said.
“Like you have to accept your birthright and honor your father’s last wishes.”
“What’s with this birthright thing?” she asked.
Jeff stood up. “I’ll tell you sometime soon. Right now, I have to get back.”
Kara also rose to her feet. “When will I see you again?”
“Tomorrow. I’m off, and if you don’t have anything planned, I’ll come by and take you to Jack’s for lunch and give you a crash course in Lowcountry culture.”
“I’d like you to answer one question for me, Jeff.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you have something against the Pattons?”
“Nothing personal. I just don’t like it when people threaten others.”
Her eyes grew wider. “Did David tell you what happened?”
“He didn’t have to. You can say I read between the lines. As sheriff of Cavanaugh, I have zero tolerance for those who break the law. And to me threats are a serious offense. I’ll pick you up at twelve.”
Jeff didn’t give Kara a chance to accept or reject his offer when he turned on his heels and walked out of the room. He’d been back for almost a year, and it was the first time that a woman had captured his attention for more than a few minutes.
There was something about Kara, other than her natural beauty, that had him enthralled. He didn’t know whether it was her big-city attitude, but whatever it was, he intended to discover it before the week ended and Kara was out of his life for good.
Chapter Two
Kara sat motionless, her gaze fixed on a potted palm. It had been more than two hours since David had informed her that Austin Newell was not her biological father; instead, her father was a dead man who knew about her when she hadn’t known he existed. The news had stunned her, the hostility exhibited by the Pattons frightened her, and Sheriff Hamilton coming to see her made their threats even more terrifying.
Any normal person would’ve been overjoyed to inherit a house listed on the National Register of Historic Places and two thousand acres of land and four automobiles—three of which were classics—cash on hand, securities, and other tangibles in Taylor Patton’s name. And if the house, its contents, the cars, and the land was an indication, then there was no doubt she’d become a very wealthy woman.
Kara knew she had to call her mother because only Jeannette Newell could give her the answers she needed as to her true paternity. What she didn’t want to think about was her mother’s duplicity. How could she hide the true identity of the man who’d fathered her for more than three decades, while Austin, the only father she’d ever known, had become a coconspirator?
She also knew she couldn’t avoid the inevitable but decided to wait—wait until her mother was at home before calling her. Normally Kara would’ve called Jeannette at the senior residence where she headed the nursing unit, but she couldn’t find the nerve to talk to her mother just yet. She also wanted to tell her mother that her travel plans had changed and not to expect her the following day.
David has asked if she would stay on the island for a week, and she’d said she would. A week was more than enough time to uncover what David and Jeff Hamilton had warned her about giving up: her birthright.
Kara bit her lower lip. Whenever she heard the word birthright, she thought of her Sunday school lesson about twin brothers Esau and Jacob. Firstborn Esau cared little for his birthright, so he sold it under oath to Jacob for bread and lentil soup because he was hungry. She also recalled that Jacob had not only taken Esau’s birthright, but also his dying father’s blessing.
Was that what she was going to do? Walk away and give her birthright to relatives who in turn would sell it to developers? Or would they sell her two thousand acres and keep the money—a sale that would drastically affect the lives of the residents of Angels Landing and Cavanaugh Island forever?
She could take the proceeds and buy a co-op or condo in an upscale Manhattan neighborhood, maybe a house in the suburbs where she could park her own car in her driveway instead of hailing taxis or renting cars to take her whenever she wanted to go. She could also plant a rose garden and even get a little dog that would have a backyard to run in.
Kara could do a lot with her newfound wealth, but in reality it really wasn’t her money, even though Taylor had believed she was entitled to all his worldly possessions. She didn’t want to think that he had included her in his will out of a perverted sense of guilt. Had Jeannette come to him with the news that she was carrying his child, and he’d turned his back on her?
The questions assaulted Kara like barbs, and she was unable to parry them. Combing her fingers through her hair, Kara dug her nails into her scalp, welcoming the pain. She knew she had to pull herself together or lose it completely.
“Miss Kara?”
Her hands came down, and she turned to find Mrs. Todd standing only a few feet away. Kara hadn’t heard her come into the room. She stood up. “Please call me Kara, Mrs. Todd.”
The older woman inclined her head. “Miss… I mean, Kara. I made lunch. Would you like to have it in the breakfast room or on the back porch?”
Kara smiled. “In the breakfast room.”
She hadn’t believed how quickly her life had changed. She now had someone to cook and clean up after her—something that made her uncomfortable. Iris Todd had introduced herself and then informed Kara that Angels Landing had been her only home for the past fifty-five years; she’d worked for Taylor Patton’s mother, Theodora, then stayed on after her death to assume total responsibility of running the household for Mr. Taylor.
She followed the tiny, doll-like woman with a sable-brown complexion and snow-white hair. “Mrs. Todd, I’d like you to tell me about my… Taylor Patton.” Kara had caught herself before calling him “father.”
Mrs. Todd shook her head. “Cain’t do that. Not up to me to talk his business. God bless the dead.”
“I’m not asking you to divulge his secrets.”
Mrs. Todd stopped midstep, turned, and faced Kara. “There are no secrets because around here, there is no such thing as a secret. This town is so small, everybody knows everyone’s business.”
“What did he do?”
A network of faint lines fanned out around the housekeeper’s eyes when she smiled. “David didn’t tell you?”
A look of confusion crossed Kara’s face. “Tell me what?”
“Mr. Taylor was an investment banker. He handled rich folks’ money jest like it was his own. Made tons of money for them even though they didn’t need no more.”
Kara sucked in her breath, held it, and then let it out slowly. If Taylor Patton had made his rich clients even richer, then there was no doubt he had done the same for himself. “Is there a safe in this house?”
“No. Why you asking?”
“I thought perhaps Mr. Patton kept his important papers there.”
Mrs. Todd squinted behind her glasses. “Why do you keep calling him Mr. Patton instead of your daddy?”
“Because I’m not certain if he is my daddy.”
“Oh, he your father all right. You look jest like Miss Theodora. Or Teddy as the fancy folks around here used to call her. Yes, Kara. You the spitting image of your grandmomma.”
So that’s why the Pattons had looked at her as if she were an apparition, Kara recalled. It was obvious they’d known something she hadn’t when she’d walked into the law firm’s conference room, even before the reading of the will. They knew just by looking at her that she was a Patton. So why had they tried to deny her?
Kara still couldn’t bring herself to think of Taylor Patton as her father and certainly not daddy.
Mrs. Todd angled her head, appearing deep in thought. “I don’t know if Mr. Taylor had a safe. He took his papers to the bank in Sanctuary Cove.”
Again she was reminded of the envelope David had given her with keys to the house, cars, and safe-deposit box. The first thing on her agenda the following day was to go to the bank and go through the contents of the box.
Mrs. Todd took a step, resting a hand on Kara’s arm. “Don’t you worry yourself none, honey. Everything will work out in its own time. All you need is a little faith.”
That’s what I’m hoping for, Kara thought. She wanted to tell Mrs. Todd she needed an abundance of faith. She also wanted everything to work out so she could visit with her family in Little Rock; return to New York; and pick up her life as if she’d never heard of David Sullivan, Taylor Patton, or the Angels Landing Pattons.
“How did he die?” Kara asked.
“Mr. Taylor had problems with his heart. He went to bed one night and never woke up. My husband tried reviving him, but when the doctor from the Cove came and covered him with a sheet, we knew it was too late. It’s a shame because he was only fifty-six.”
Taylor Patton was fifty-six, the same age as her mother. Kara followed Mrs. Todd down a narrow hallway, into the kitchen, and to an alcove that overlooked the rear of the house. Upon close inspection she saw the shabbiness of the worn carpets and fading wallpaper. The antebellum mansion was antiquated; whoever did the interior decorating must have been arrested in a past time period. Yet despite all that needed to be done, Kara knew it could be elegant and beautiful again if restored to its original condition. Unfortunately, she knew she wouldn’t have the time needed to make the repairs. She’d promised David and Jeff she would stay on Cavanaugh Island a week, and she would. But there was no way she could supervise restoring the property in that short amount of time.
After a lunch of lobster bisque, shrimp salad, and sweet tea, Kara returned to the bedroom Mrs. Todd had chosen for her. She picked up her cell phone that she’d left on a side table. She’d missed one call. Tapping the voice mail icon, she listened to her roommate’s message, then tapped the key for Dawn Ramsey’s number.
“Hey, Miss Dee,” Kara said in her usual greeting. Walking over to an armchair, she sat down.
“Hey yourself, Miss Kay. I’d called to find out if you’d made it home safely.”
Kara exhaled an audible sigh. “Yes, I did. But…”
Angels Landing Page 2
