Angels Landing

by Rochelle Alers

  Slowly, as if pulled by a taut wire, Kara leaned forward. “I did not come here to talk about selling the property, Morgan. I’m here because I need an estimate of how much it would cost and how long it will take for your firm to restore Angels Landing Plantation to its original state circa 1854. I understand your opposition to developers coming in and literally changing the landscape and their impact on the lives of the people who live here because I’m now one of those people. I may be a couple of things, but I’ve never been accused of being a sellout.” Morgan lowered her eyes in a gesture Kara could only interpret as embarrassment.

  “I’m sorry if I offended—”

  “I’m not offended,” Kara said, interrupting her. “It’s just that I didn’t expect to be reminded about giving away my birthright yet again.”

  “I’m not the first person to tell you?”

  Kara laughed, the sound seemingly shattering the tension. “No. I’ve heard it from David Sullivan and Sheriff Hamilton. There are probably a few others who feel the same way but haven’t said anything to me. At least not yet.”

  Twin dimples kissed Morgan’s cheeks when she smiled. “Folks here usually don’t bite their tongues when they have something to say.”

  “Like you?”

  Morgan nodded. “Yes, like me.”

  Kara stared at the photograph of Middleton Place. “When it comes to historical restoration I know we’re on the same page.” Her gaze swung back to the woman sitting across the table from her. “This is only my third day on the island, and I have yet to tour what you call the Angels Landing Plantation; so other than the guesthouses, I haven’t seen any of the outbuildings.”

  “Do you want me to go with you to see them?”

  Taken aback by the question, Kara hesitated. “When would you like to see it?”

  “What about now? That is if you don’t have anything planned for this afternoon.”

  Kara glanced down at her pencil skirt. When she’d gotten dressed earlier that morning, she hadn’t planned on traipsing over several thousand acres in a fitted skirt, cashmere twinset, and pumps. She smiled. It was about time she looked over what Taylor had bequeathed to her and what her cousins so passionately coveted.

  “No, I can’t right now. What other time would you be able to meet?”

  Morgan checked her watch. “Let’s make it one.”

  Pushing back her chair, Kara stood up and extended her hand. “Great, then I’ll see you at one.”

  Kara returned to Angels Landing, Mrs. Todd opening the door before she could turn the knob. The house remained unlocked during the day. It was only at night that Kara felt uncomfortable leaving the doors unlocked, especially since she lived there alone.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Todd.”

  “Good afternoon. I was just leaving to bring my Willie his lunch.” She held up a cloth-covered wicker basket. “Once that man gets on his riding mower he doesn’t want to get off.”

  Men and their toys, Kara thought. “I know. It’s like getting a brand-new car. I’ve known men to sleep in theirs. Someone is coming here at one, and we’re going to tour the property to ascertain what needs to be done to make this place beautiful again.”

  Mrs. Todd nodded slowly. “Mr. Taylor knew what he was doing when he left everything to you. If some of his nieces or nephews got this property, the scavengers would’ve been here minutes after the will was read to start taking this place apart.”

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Todd. That’s not going to happen. Not now or years from now. I’ll make certain of that.”

  “You may look like your grandmomma, but you got your daddy’s heart. Out of all of Miss Teddy’s children, Taylor was the best. Enough jawin’. Let me get this to Willie ’fore it gets cold. I left your lunch in the warming drawer.”

  Bending slightly, Kara kissed her cheek. “Thank you.” Knowing she’d shocked the housekeeper with the display of affection, Kara walked into the house, leaving Mrs. Todd staring at her back.

  With a light step, she raced up the staircase to her bedroom to change. Fortunately she had packed a pair of rain boots. Kara entered her bedroom, stopping abruptly when she saw the bouquet of pale pink roses on the table in the sitting area. Attached to the vase was a balloon stamped with “Welcome Home.”

  Walking over to the table, she picked up the card. A smile curved her mouth when she read the bold script: “Thank you for staying. Hugs, Jeff.”

  “You’re welcome,” she whispered to the empty room, reminding herself to call Jeff and thank him for the thoughtful gesture.

  If he was glad she’d decided to live on the island, she was equally excited she’d made the decision to stay. This is not to say it had been an easy decision because she would have to resign her job and give up a way of life she’d grown accustomed to for fifteen years. She’d come to New York to attend college and stayed. Except for her noticeably Southern drawl, she’d become a New Yorker in every sense of the word.

  Kara had learned to walk quickly in order to navigate the sidewalks teeming with pedestrians, and she also learned to push her way into a crowded subway car so she wouldn’t have to wait for another that would be just as crowded. She’d adopted the practice of not making eye contact with anyone on the street; not speaking to strangers; not responding to ribald catcalls from men; and not picking up her drink at a bar, a club, or party once she’d averted her gaze. And she didn’t give out her address, home or cell numbers arbitrarily.

  The men she’d dated were usually friends of friends. Several had progressed beyond the platonic stage, and a few ended before they’d begun. Kara could not get used to men expecting her to take off her panties on the first date. Firstly she hadn’t known them well enough to take their relationship to the next level, and secondly she didn’t know whether they were some crazed deviant who would rape or, even worse, kill her.

  Kara knew she had to call Dawn and let her know that she’d decided to relocate. She retrieved her cell and punched in Dawn’s number, activating the speaker feature as she undressed. “Hey, Miss Dee.”

  “Hey you,” Dawn drawled.

  “Did I wake you up?”

  “No. I was just taking a power nap before I go into the studio. Kara?”

  “What is it, Dawn?”

  “You’re right about the apartment becoming an SRO. Jackie stopped by yesterday with a couple of guys, and they stayed up all night drinking beer while playing poker. I didn’t get more than an hour of sleep. And you know I have to be alert when working with my students. Their parents pay big bucks for me to teach the little cherubs to dance.”

  Kara slipped into a pair of jeans, buttoning the waistband. They fit a bit more snugly than they had when she’d worn them before, and she knew it had come from eating three meals a day. She made a mental note to begin walking along the beach for exercise.

  “I’m not going to say I told you so.”

  “Tell me, girl, so I can experience a reality check.”

  “I told you so, Dawn Ramsey.”

  “Thanks. Now I can get rid of the guilt.”

  “Since you’re newly guilt-free, what are you going to do about it?”

  “I’m going to take a break from friends. Maybe your pep talk and not having you around for a few days brought me to my senses.”

  “You’re not going to have me around for more than a few days, Dawn.”

  “What aren’t you saying? And please don’t tell me something I’m not equipped to deal with right now.”

  Kara knew putting off the inevitable wouldn’t make it any easier for Dawn or herself. “I’m staying.” The two words made her heart sink like a stone in her chest.

  “You can’t, Kara.”

  “I have to, Dawn.”

  Kara told her why she’d decided to relocate to Angels Landing. “I can’t walk away, not when I have a chance to possibly build a relationship with a family I never knew I had.”

  There came a pregnant pause until Dawn said, “I understand where you’re coming from because
you told me you don’t have a large family, but that still doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  “I’m not going to leave you hanging, Dee. I’m going to send you a check for my share of the rent until the lease expires.”

  “You’ve got it like that?”

  Kara smiled. “Yes, Dee. I’ve got it like that.”

  “Well, damn! Did you hit the mother lode?

  “Just about,” she admitted. “I want you to take off and come visit me.”

  Dawn’s distinctive Eddie Murphy laugh came through the earpiece. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Come on, sister. You know you can come hang out with me anytime. The only thing I’m going to ask is that you not bring your funky bunch with you.”

  Dawn laughed again. “Have you forgotten that I’m trying to rid myself of the funky bunch?”

  “That should be easy, Dawn. We live in a building with a doorman, and when he calls to ask if he should let Freeloader Freddie in, just say no. Or you could call management and tell them that you’re not accepting visitors. That way you can save face whenever you run into them. Better yet. Blame it on management, and tell them that your neighbors are complaining about the number of people who are hanging out at the apartment, and if it continues, then you’re going to lose your lease.”

  “You’re a genius, Kara.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m just a little more practical than you are. Look, Dee, I have to go. But I promise to call you in a couple of days with an update of my life in the Lowcountry.”

  Kara didn’t know why, but she felt like crying. She’d heard the pain and indecision in her former roommate’s voice when Dawn said she understood why Kara had decided to live in South Carolina but still wasn’t too happy about it.

  What she hadn’t told Dawn was that she was frightened, more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. New York City had become her second home. Of course, she’d experienced some anxiety moving from Little Rock to New York, but that was normal for college students when they attended out-of-state schools. They were little birds ready, yet hesitant to leave the nest. First there was the college tours, then the monumental decision of what college they would attend.

  Her parents didn’t want her to move so far away. After all, she was their only child, and both tried to hold onto her for as long as possible. She’d reassured them New York wasn’t that far away, and in the end they relented. Kara suspected they were more concerned with her living in a big city than the actual distance, and for the first six months she called them weekly to let them know how she was doing.

  After a while the calls decreased to every other week, then finally to once or twice a month. She had made new friends and had her first serious boyfriend, who’d eventually become her lover. They parted amicably during her junior year, and Kara concentrated on pulling up her grades because she’d planned to enroll in graduate school.

  She dated sporadically throughout grad school and had a serious liaison with another social work intern. She wanted a commitment while he wanted an open relationship wherein they would date other people. Doubt and cynicism dogged Kara whenever she was introduced to a man, and after a while she could care less whether she dated or not.

  Kara knew the decision to relocate to Angels Landing would’ve been a lot more difficult if she had someone with whom she was in love. She’d always told her mother she wanted what Jeannette had: a loving, loyal, and protective husband.

  Opening a drawer in the triple dresser, she took out a lightweight wool sweater. Daytime temperatures were in the low forties, almost twenty degrees lower than the average high for the region. She pulled on her patterned houndstooth rain boots and pushed her cell into the back pocket of her jeans. Running a large-tooth comb through her hair, she swept it up in a ponytail and secured it with an elastic band. The doorbell chimed as she reached for a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses.

  Quickening her pace, she jogged down the hallway to the stairs. Kara was halfway across the expansive living room when the bell rang again. She opened the door, expecting to see Morgan, but the woman standing on the porch elicited a shiver of uneasiness.

  “Hello, Analeigh.”

  The petite woman with sandy-brown twists and dark eyes smiled. Her white midi blouse, navy-blue pleated skirt, and penny loafers were better suited for a schoolgirl. “I’m surprised you remember my name.”

  “I remembered because you were the only one who didn’t give me a screwface.” Kara estimated she and Analeigh were about the same age.

  “May I come in?”

  Kara opened the door wider. “I’d love to sit and chat with you, but I’m expecting someone any moment. Is there another time when you can come back?”

  “Tomorrow. Same time.”

  “Do you want to give me an idea of what you’d like to talk about?” Kara asked.

  “I’ll wait until tomorrow.”

  “I’d rather know now if you don’t mind.”

  Exhaling a breath, Analeigh twisted her mouth. “I thought we could be friends.”

  “Friends?” Kara questioned. “I thought we were cousins.”

  “We are, but I’d like for us to get to know each other.”

  Something told Kara not to trust Analeigh, but on the other hand she’d never been one to reject an offer of friendship. “Okay. Please come back tomorrow, and we’ll have lunch.”

  Analeigh pressed her palms together. “Should I bring something?”

  “Yes.”

  “What would you like me to bring?”

  “Yourself.”

  Analeigh’s face fell like someone pulling down a window shade. “Me?” The single word sounded like a squeak.

  Kara would’ve laughed if her cousin’s eyes hadn’t filled with tears. She hugged her instead. “Yes, you. You’re the guest of honor.” She gasped when Analeigh put her arms around her neck, squeezing her tightly. “Please, Analeigh. You’re choking me.”

  “Thank you, Kara. I told the others you were nice, but they wouldn’t listen to me.”

  Reaching up, she pried Analeigh’s arms from around her neck. “Thank you for speaking up for me.”

  “Are you nice, Kara?”

  Kara saw movement out of the corner of her eye. A Jeep came to a stop in front of the house. The passenger-side door bore the logo of the sheriff’s department. “Excuse me, Analeigh.” She walked out onto the porch, watching as the stocky-built man climbed the steps. The buttons on his red flannel shirt strained across his broad chest. A round face, ruddy cheeks, and beer belly made him the perfect candidate to play Santa.

  He touched the brim of his baseball cap. “Afternoon, Miss Newell. I’m Deputy Sheriff Collins. I’m just stopping to check on folks in the Landing.”

  “I’m well, thank you.”

  Analeigh stepped from behind Kara, flashing a lopsided smile. “Hi, Mr. Deputy. How you doing today?”

  Deputy Collins stared at her as if she were an apparition. “What are you doing here, Analeigh?”

  Wrapping her arms around her body, Analeigh angled her head and closed her eyes. “I came to see my cousin. Did you know she is my cousin?”

  He glanced around. “No. How did you get here?”

  Analeigh moved closer to Kenny. “I walked.”

  “You walked all the way from your house?”

  She took another step. “Yes, sir.”

  Kara blinked as if coming out of a trance. She realized Analeigh’s childlike behavior wasn’t an act. “Deputy Collins, can you please drop Analeigh off at home?”

  He touched his hat again. “Of course. I’ll let Jeff know you’re good here.”

  A nervous smile found its way across Kara’s features. She wanted to tell Deputy Collins that she wasn’t so good. An obviously mentally or emotionally disturbed woman had come to her home with the intent to befriend her. The uneasiness when she’d opened the door to find Analeigh standing there wasn’t imagined, but real.

  “Thank you, Deputy. If you speak to Jeff, please te
ll him to call me on the house phone.”

  “No problem, Miss Newell.”

  Crossing her arms under her breasts, Kara watched as the deputy escorted Analeigh to his truck, helped her inside, and drove away. She was still on the porch when Morgan drove up in a white late-model Cadillac Escalade. “I just have to get my sunglasses,” Kara told Morgan when she got out of the vehicle.

  “I’d like to do a once-over of the interior of the house first.” Morgan held up a digital camera. “A picture is worth a thousand words once you look at the before and after photos.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “No. I won’t take long.”

  Kara nodded. “I’ll wait on the porch.” She folded her body down to the white wicker rocker with baby-blue cushions, recalling what Dawn said about her turning into a Southern belle while sitting on a porch drinking sweet tea. Even though she’d spent the last fifteen years of her life in New York, she was still a Southern girl at heart.

  She rocked slowly, marveling at how the dictates of a dead man were determining her future. Kara knew she didn’t have to follow the mandates set down in Taylor’s will, yet strangely, she felt compelled to honor his wishes.

  If she had known Taylor was her biological father, would he have been willing to share her with Austin or would he have legally exercised his right to share custody with Jeannette? Or would her mother have agreed to let her spend her summers on Cavanaugh Island? The maybes nagged at Kara until Morgan returned, camera in hand.

  Kara rose to her feet. “What do you think?”

  “The house and the furnishings are magnificent. Of course, the wallpaper has to be replaced. You’ll also have to replace the drapes, and the rugs will need to be cleaned. The rugs are Aubusson, and that alone makes them priceless. I suggest once they’re restored you use them as tapestry wall hangings. Some of the floors are warped, so they’ll have to be replaced. An engineer will examine the foundation to make certain it’s sound and can hold up to some of the brick and plasterwork. An electrician should rewire the entire house, and I recommend heating registers installed in the floors to make them less conspicuous.”