Kara was the first to end the stare-down impasse when she smiled. “Hello.”
“It’s Kara, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Virginia Patton-Smith. But most folks call me Virgie.”
Kara offered her hand and wasn’t disappointed when Virgie took it. “This is my first time coming here. Perhaps you can recommend something.”
Virgie picked up a jar of cherries, handing it to Kara. “I use the cherries as a topping for pancakes and ice cream.”
She placed the jar in her basket. “What else?”
“You’ve got to be a Patton because we all have a weakness for chowchow.”
“You don’t believe I’m a Patton?” The question was out before Kara could censor herself.
“Please, don’t get me wrong, Kara. I believe you’re one of us because you look exactly like my grandmother. But some of my relatives still believe you’re an impostor.”
“I can reassure you that I’m not an impostor.”
Virgie patted her shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you. Give them time, and I’m certain they’ll come around. We have a family tradition that we all get together for Sunday dinner. We rotate homes; that way it becomes more equitable. This Sunday it’s my turn, and I’d love to invite you, but I don’t want you to be blindsided by some of our less than hospitable relatives.”
“It’s okay. I wouldn’t have been able to make it even if our relatives were ready to welcome me with open arms. I happen to have a prior engagement.”
“Good for you. I’d really like us to get together before you go back to New York.”
Hazel eyes met a hoary-gray pair. “I’m not going back. I’ve decided to make Angels Landing my home.” Kara thought Virgie was going to faint when she swayed slightly. She reached out to steady her, but Virgie took a backward step.
“You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
Kara almost felt sorry for Virgie when she saw her expression of confidence replaced with fear. “Not at all.”
“But why?”
“Why? You heard the conditions outlined in my father’s will. I’ve been directed to restore the property and live in the house for five years. And that’s—”
“Kara, baby… Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were talking to someone.”
She gave her mother a plastic smile. “This isn’t just someone, Mama. She’s Virginia Patton-Smith, and she happens to be my cousin.”
Virgie recovered enough to give Kara’s mother a friendly smile. “It’s nice meeting you, Ms. Newell.”
Jeannette nodded. “Same here.”
“I’d invited Kara to share Sunday dinner with the family, but she told me she has a prior engagement. I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to keep to my schedule or I won’t get back in time to pick up my daughter from her dance lessons.” She wiggled her fingers. “I’ll call you, Kara. I hope to see you again, Ms. Newell.”
“Why do I get the impression that she didn’t mean a word she said,” Jeannette whispered in Kara’s ear.
“It’s called being fake,” Kara whispered back. “Let’s finish up here so we can stay on schedule.”
Jeannette cut her eyes at her daughter. “You know you’re bad, don’t you?”
“I learned it from my mama,” she intoned.
Kara and Jeannette left the Cannery with their purchases in a recyclable shopping bag. Haven Creek’s town council had recommended business owners replace plastic bags with recyclable ones to offset polluting the island’s environment.
Mother and daughter had become teenagers turned loose in a mall with a no-spending limit. Jeannette couldn’t make up her mind which size sweet-grass basket she wanted to buy for her sister while Kara sat on a tall stool patiently waiting.
“Kara, please help me out,” Jeannette pleaded.
Sliding off the stool, she walked over to the table. “I like the large tray.”
“Do you think it would look nice on a coffee table?”
“Mama, stop wondering where Aunt Denise would put it. It’s a beautiful piece.”
Jeannette turned it over, staring at the price sticker. “I don’t know if I want to spend this much for it.”
Kara took the exquisitely woven tray from her mother, walked over to the counter, and gave it to the salesclerk. “I’ll take this one, and I’d like you to gift wrap it,” she said, handing her a credit card.
“Kara!” Jeannette hissed.
“Mama?”
“What is it?”
“You’re giving me a headache.”
“That’s because you need to eat. The only time you get headaches is when you don’t eat. What did you eat today?”
Kara rolled her eyes upward. “Can’t you stop being a mother for five minutes?”
Jeannette stood up straight and pulled back her shoulders. “No. Once you become a mother, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“That’s not going to happen any time soon.” Jeannette moved closer, placing her ear against Kara’s chest. “What are you doing?”
“I’m listening to your biological clock. It’s getting louder.”
“No comment.”
Those were the last two words Kara exchanged with Jeannette until they sat at a table for two at Jack’s Fish House. They’d had to wait twenty minutes before they were seated because it was Saturday night and the island’s date night. She found herself glancing around the crowded restaurant for a glimpse of Jeff. Even if she closed her eyes, she was able to recall every feature of his face, the sound of his mellifluous voice, and his body’s clean, masculine scent. What she didn’t want to think about was the awesome sight of his magnificent chest or how her body had reacted when he’d kissed her on the beach.
Kara had told her mother Jeff was her friend when she wanted him to be so much more. She didn’t think that was possible because on an island as small as Cavanaugh everyone would be in her business, while in New York she didn’t know the name of her closest neighbor. The only way she and Jeff could hope for a measure of anonymity would be to go into Charleston.
“I can’t believe this menu.”
Jeannette’s voice had broken into her thoughts. “What about it?”
“It has all of my favorite dishes. I’m beginning to like the Lowcountry.”
Kara smiled. She, too, was beginning to like the Lowcountry and Sheriff Hamilton.
Chapter Nine
Kara was sitting on the porch with her mother when Jeff drove up the live oak alleé. He’d called the house earlier that morning to let them know he would come by at two.
“He’s gorgeous,” Jeannette whispered when Jeff got out of the car.
“That he is.” Kara sighed, like a vapid heroine in the Regency novels she favored.
“Is he married?”
Kara didn’t have time to answer when Jeff placed a booted foot on the first stair. Rising to her feet, she extended her hands. “Hello again,” she crooned when he towered over her.
Dipping his head, Jeff kissed her cheek. “How are you?”
“I’m well. How are you?”
His dark eyes shimmered like polished jet. “Wonderful.” His gaze shifted to Jeannette. He held out his hand, gently easing Jeannette off the cushioned rocker. “Jeff Hamilton, Mrs. Newell.”
“It’s Jeannette,” she insisted, smiling.
Kara watched the dynamics play out between her mother and the sheriff of Cavanaugh Island. Jeannette stared up at Jeff under lowered lashes. The gesture was unequivocally seductive. Was that how she’d looked at Taylor Patton, where a man who’d never had a physical relationship with a woman had succumbed to her subtle seduction? Or was it Taylor who’d initiated making love after four years of a platonic friendship?
If David hadn’t requested her presence at the reading of the will, Kara realized she never would’ve known the circumstances surrounding her birth. She didn’t blame her mother or Austin for keeping her paternity a secret for thirty-three years. After all, J
eannette did reach out to Taylor to inform him that he was going to be a father not once, but twice, and she had no recourse but to get on with her life.
Thankfully Austin hadn’t rejected the woman who’d promised to save herself for him, but married her, claiming another man’s child as his own. Kara may have shared Taylor’s DNA, but she doubted whether he could ever be the father Austin was.
Kara’s gaze lingered on Jeff’s spit-shined boots, black tailored slacks, and a crisp light blue shirt open at the neck. She smiled when she saw the engraved corps belt buckle. Her smile became a full grin when he offered Jeannette his arm and led her off the porch to his grandmother’s Toyota Camry.
“Aren’t you coming?” Jeannette called out as Jeff seated her in the passenger seat.
Kara locked the front door and then looped her cross-body bag over her chest and picked up a decorative shopping bag off the table. Jeff met her as she made her way off the porch. “Your mother is as pampered as she is beautiful,” he said in her ear.
She smiled up at him. “Oh, you noticed.”
He nodded, patting her free hand tucked into the bend of his arm. “It’s no wonder Taylor couldn’t resist her.”
Kara had no comeback as Jeff escorted her to the sedan, holding the rear door open and waiting for her to get in. Relaxing against the leather seat, she stared at the back of her mother’s head. There was no doubt Jeannette was enjoying herself. Kara thought about their meal the previous night. Instead of entrées, they’d ordered appetizers at Jack’s, allowing them to sample dishes they liked and some that were unfamiliar.
Jeannette did something Kara rarely saw her do. She ordered a beer with her meal. There had always been beer in the house whenever her father came home on leave. The first few days of his leave he would go into the equivalent of a mancave, sink in his favorite chair, grab a beer, and watch sporting events around the clock. He wouldn’t even move to eat, asking his wife to bring his meals to him. By day number three, after he’d gone through twenty-four hours of military withdrawal, he emerged from the cave ready to immerse himself into civilian life.
It took only ten minutes to drive from Angels Landing to Jeff’s house, door-to-door. Corrine was standing on the porch when Jeff parked alongside the updated two-story house. During her trips throughout the island, Kara had seen homes ranging from those that were one story, built high off the ground, and some with tin roofs to sprawling two-story colonials along private roads where the owners had named their plots. Jeff’s house claimed white vinyl siding, dark green shutters, and a wraparound porch.
Not waiting for Jeff to assist her, Kara exited the car and climbed the porch steps. “Thank you for having us, Miss Corrine,” she said, kissing the older woman’s smooth, scented cheek.
“I want you to remember that you’re always welcome here. And you don’t have to wait for Jeffrey to invite you.”
“I’ll be certain to remember that, Miss Corrine.” She handed her the shopping bag. “I hope there’s something in here you like.”
Corrine peered into the bag, smiling. “Who told you I liked onion and chow relish?”
“I haven’t lived in New York that long that I’ve forgotten Southerners love their relishes.”
“You’re right. Go on in and rest yourself while I meet your mama. It’s going to be at least half an hour before we sit down to eat.”
Walking into the parlor, Kara inhaled a plethora of mouthwatering aromas. It smelled like Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas all rolled into one. There were a few times when she didn’t come home for Thanksgiving and Easter, but she’d never missed spending a Christmas in Little Rock since leaving at eighteen.
She sat on a pale pink love seat with green leaves. There was a green one with pink roses facing her. The parlor was intimate, inviting one to come sit and relax. Live plants in painted bowls sat on side tables, and a trio of flowering begonias sat on a runner lining an oak credenza.
Jeff entered the room and sat down beside her. “Gram just found out that she and your mother are sorority sisters.”
“That explains the pink and green,” she said laughing. “Where did your grandmother go to college?”
“B-CU.”
“So she’s a Bethune-Cookman Wildcat.”
Jeff smiled. “So you’re familiar with the Wildcats?”
“B-CU was on my college tour list.”
“Where did you finally end up?” Jeff asked.
“Columbia.”
He whistled. “Miss Ivy League.” He draped an arm over her shoulders. “How long is your mama staying?”
“She says a week.”
“How does she like the Lowcountry?”
Shifting slightly, Kara turned to look directly at Jeff. “She really likes it.”
“Did you tell her you’re staying?”
Kara closed her eyes. When she opened them, she saw Jeff staring at her, an impassive expression freezing his features. Whenever he looked at her like that, she felt as if he’d put up a shield to keep her from getting close. Was this the way it had been with the other women in his past? Show an interest and he’d shut down emotionally?
Don’t analyze the man, Kara, the silent voice reminded her. It had been that way with all of the men she met. Within minutes of their introduction, she would begin to analyze his body language and everything that came out of his mouth.
“Yes. Even though she’s accepted my rationale, she still doesn’t like that I’m living alone.”
“Do you live alone in New York?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I have a roommate.”
“I see her point.”
“Why are you taking her side?”
Jeff rubbed several strands of her hair between his fingers. “It’s not about taking sides, baby. You have to understand where she’s coming from. You’re her child, and she has a right to be concerned about you.”
“I’m a thirty-three-year-old woman, Jeff. I’ve lived on my own for the past fifteen years, fifteen years in a city of eight million people. If I can survive in New York City, then I believe I can survive anywhere. There are probably more people living in my Manhattan high-rise than in all of Angels Landing.”
“And doesn’t that make you feel safer in Angels Landing?”
“Yes. I’d never leave my door unlocked in New York.”
“We do have crime here, but it’s basically with teenagers coming from the mainland.”
“What about the kids who live here?”
“They know better. Either they’ll get the business from me or from their parents. Within days of installing security cameras in the Cove, the tagging of fishermen’s boats stopped. Folks in the Creek and Landing don’t want cameras because they feel it’s an invasion of their privacy, but I know they’ll change their tune once there’s a rash of break-ins or vandalism.”
Kara leaned into Jeff. “Are you saying I should lock my doors during the day?”
Lowering his head, he buried his face in her hair, seemingly inhaling the scent. “I want you to be careful, Kara. Kenny told me about Analeigh showing up at your house. She doesn’t drive, so that meant she walked almost a mile to come to see you. Anyone who comes over on the ferry or causeway could do the same. And I’m certain you’d either open your door or talk to them because you don’t know who they are. I make it my business and that of my deputies to do foot patrols. This way they get to familiarize themselves with everyone on the island.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Say it like you mean it, Kara.”
Kara rested her hand alongside his face. “I promise I will be very careful.”
Jeff kissed her forehead. “That’s better.”
“Jeffrey, please turn off the stove and plate the chicken.”
Kara and Jeff sprang apart like teenagers who’d been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. She met her mother’s questioning gaze. Jeannette winked at the same time, a knowing smile softening her mouth, and Kara returned it w
ith one of her own. There were very few things she could hide from her mother, so she’d learned never to lie to her.
She pushed off the love seat. “Show me where I can wash my hands, and I’ll help you,” she said, following Jeff as he headed toward the half bath off the kitchen.
“Move over,” Kara ordered when they crowded into the small space. “You’re hogging the sink.”
Shifting, Jeff stood behind her and held his hands under the running water. “I need soap.”
Kara felt his breath on the nape of her neck and his hardness pulsing against her hips. “Move back.”
He fastened his mouth to the side of her neck. “First it’s move over, and now it’s move back.”
“I can feel you, Jeff.”
“Now you know what I feel whenever I’m around you.”
Lowering her head, she closed her eyes. “Please don’t do this to me.”
“Do what?”
“You’re getting me aroused.”
He laughed softly. “Why should I be the only one aroused?”
“My mother and your grandmother are waiting for us.”
“To be continued,” Jeff whispered.
Five minutes later they sat at the table, passing serving bowls and chatting casually. “How come you didn’t pledge a sorority like your mother?” Corrine asked Kara as she handed her a serving bowl.
Jeff took the bowl from her, holding it while she placed a spoonful of cabbage on her plate. “I didn’t have time. I was carrying eighteen credits every semester.”
Unfolding her napkin, Jeannette placed it on her lap. “You could pledge as a graduate.”
Kara stared across the dining room table at her mother. “I don’t have time to pledge, Mama.”
“You’re going to live here, so what’s stopping you from finding a Charleston chapter.”
“If you were to pledge, which sorority would you choose?” Jeff asked.
Angels Landing Page 14
