Jeff walked into the Muffin Corner. The smell of brewing coffee and sweet breads was intoxicating. Mabel Kelly came from behind the counter to hug him. He kissed her cheek. “Where have you been hiding yourself? When I asked Lester about you, he said you’d run off with another man.”
Pulling back, Mabel gave him her trademark gap-toothed smile. Her braided hair was covered with a black-and-white pin-striped bandana. “I don’t think so. There’s no way I’d give up my Lester for all the oil in Saudi Arabia and the money in Dubai. I took a couple of weeks off to go up to Atlanta to help my sister with her new baby. She had a C-section and unfortunately had complications. How’s life treating you, Jeff?”
“Life is good.”
“How’s Miss Corrine?”
“She’s good.”
Mabel stared up at him. “Do you think she would like a little dog?”
Jeff shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. My grandmother is not equipped to run after a dog. Right now, the doctor doesn’t want her climbing stairs. What’s up with the dog?”
“My sister is a dog breeder and she gave me a little Yorkshire terrier. He’s adorable, Jeff, and it’s a shame I have to leave him home all day. I want to give him to someone who has the time to take care of him. He’s had all his shots, he’s housebroken, and he responds to his name.”
“What’s his name?”
“Oliver.”
Jeff twisted his mouth. “That sounds a little wimpy.”
“He’s a little dog. Do you know someone who might give him a good home?”
“Don’t give him away until I ask around. I’d like a large container of my usual.”
“What about something sweet, Jeff?” Mabel asked when she walked over to the commercial espresso coffeemaker.
He peered into the showcase with trays of tarts, cookies, brownies, and mini-doughnuts. “What’s the special for the day?”
Mabel added a generous amount of cream to the coffee. “It was apple crumb cake, but it sold out before eleven.”
“What do you recommend?”
“The doughnuts are always good.” She held up a hand. “It’s not because you’re a cop, Jeff.”
“No harm done, Mabel. Give me a dozen. I’ll give them to the staff.”
“By the way, I’m sure you heard about the dude going around bugging folks about selling their homes. Every spring and summer the vultures come and roost. When are they going to give it up?”
“I don’t know, Mabel. They’ll continue to come until everyone on the island is of like mind. If we stand united, then maybe they’ll get the message.”
He paid for his purchases, then retraced his steps, stopping at the supermarket deli for Winnie’s lunch.
When Jeff returned to the station, Winnie Powell glanced up from working on a crossword puzzle. “A tuna salad on a bed of lettuce with crackers and a pickle for the boss, and doughnuts for the staff,” he teased.
Winnie blushed, her cheeks turning pink. “Are you ever going to let me live that down?”
He winked at her. “Never.” Before he’d taken over as sheriff, Jeff had overheard Winnie telling someone on the phone that she’d run the police station for more than twenty years, and she would continue to run it no matter who the sheriff was. “I’m going to be in the break room.”
Jeff drank his coffee, then lay on the sofa to relax. He hadn’t slept well the past two nights; he’d found himself tossing and turning as the sounds and images of war came back vividly, never allowing him to return to sleep. He’d gotten out of bed, went down to the front porch, and sat there until the sun came up. He was still there when his grandmother woke. She’d asked him what time he had to go on duty, and when he told her, she suggested he try and get a few hours of sleep and that she would wake him later. The nightmares didn’t come as frequently as they had in the past, but they were still there.
He’d just closed his eyes when he heard Winnie calling his name. “What is it?”
“I just got a call from a Jeannette Newell. She said there’s someone out at Angels Landing trying to talk her daughter into selling her house.”
Jeff sprang up like a jack-in-the-box, reached for the small two-way radio and gun belt. “Call her back and let her know I’m on my way.”
Kara opened the door to find a conservatively dressed young black man standing on the porch. His blue blazer; buttoned-down light blue shirt; red, white, and blue striped tie; gray flannel slacks, and black slip-ons were prep school chic. The only thing missing was a pair of glasses.
Her gaze lingered on his pleasant features. “Yes?”
“I’m looking for a Ms. Kara Newell.”
Nice voice, she thought. “Who’s asking?”
“Porter Caldwell.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know a Porter Caldwell.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You’re Kara Newell?”
She nodded. “Yes, I am. Why are you looking for me?”
Porter gestured to the half-opened door. “Can we go inside and talk?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not in the habit of inviting strangers into my home. It comes from living in New York,” Kara added quickly. “Would you mind if we sit here on the porch?”
Porter recovered quickly. “Of course not.” He moved over and pulled out a chair, waiting for her to sit before sitting across from her. He stared out at the allée of live oak trees. “What a magnificent view.”
Kara noticed the direction of his gaze. She didn’t think she would ever get used to seeing the century-old trees forming a natural canopy over the road leading up to the house. “It is. Mr. Caldwell, what exactly do you want to talk about?”
Crossing one leg over the opposite knee, Porter stared at the young woman. “Please call me Porter. Mr. Caldwell sounds so formal. I hope you don’t mind if I call you Kara.”
“Not at all.” Kara thought of Porter, as he wanted to be called, as a throwback to men who epitomized the term Southern gentleman. “Before we begin, I’d like to know how you’ve come to know my name and where I live.”
“I’m here on the island looking to purchase property, and someone told me you might be interested in selling.”
A slight frown appeared between her eyes. “Who told you that?”
“I don’t remember. But you do have a magnificent home. It’s obvious it needs some work, and there’s no doubt it will be spectacular after the repairs are completed.”
Kara leaned forward. “Who do you represent, Mr. Caldwell?”
“Excuse me?”
She smiled, the gesture not reaching her eyes. “I do believe you heard me, Mr. Caldwell. I’m asking who sent you to see me.”
He pulled his shoulders back. “No one sent me. I told you I’m looking to purchase property on Cavanaugh Island, and I happen to love old houses.”
Kara stared at the rose-pink polish on her toes, paying him no attention, noticing a chip on the big toe of her right foot. She’d missed her regularly scheduled mani-pedi back in New York. She looked up. “Do you have any idea how much this house is worth?”
Porter gave her a direct stare. “I do.”
“If I threw out a figure, would you be willing to match it?”
He nodded. “Throw it out.”
“Three million. And that doesn’t include the furnishings.” Kara was surprised that his impassive expression did not change when she’d said the first thing that had come to her mind. “Five million with the furnishings. And that’s only a conservative figure because I don’t have an updated appraisal.”
“That’s a little steep for my wallet, but if you exclude the furnishings, then it may be doable.”
“Are you saying that you can give me a bank check like yesterday if I decided to sell you my home?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“If you don’t mind answering another question, I’d like to know how many people would live in this house if I sold it to you. Because right now I’m the only one living in a twenty-room slightly dilap
idated mansion in South Carolina Lowcountry.”
“There will be my brother, his fiancée, and myself.”
“Are you aware that Angels Landing is listed as privately owned on the National Register of Historic Places and the property on which it sits is a US National Historic Landmark District?”
He whistled through his teeth. “I wasn’t aware of those facts.”
Kara wanted to tell the young man that she wasn’t as gullible as she appeared. If living in New York had taught her anything, it was that hustlers came in all colors, sizes, and manners of dress. “Do you really think I would sell something so valuable for even ten million?”
He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Hypothetically, if you were to sell everything, what would be your asking price?”
“Five hundred million. And that includes the two thousand acres and everything on it.”
“A half billion dollars! No property is worth that.”
Kara smiled. “That’s where you’re wrong, Porter. It’s worth that and more to developers who plan to turn it into a billionaire’s playground. Hypothetically,” she drawled, “they could build five thousand-square-foot condos and sell them for five million a pop, and poof, they’ve recouped most of their money. Then don’t forget the golf course fees and country club memberships. That should bring in another cool half billion a year. Mr. Porter Caldwell, just because I speak a little slow that doesn’t mean I’m slow up here.” She tapped her forehead.
“You’re wrong, Kara,” Porter said quickly.
She decided to try another approach. “I hope I’m wrong. Leave me your business card, and I’ll seriously think about your offer.”
Opening his jacket, Porter reached inside his breast pocket, then patted his pants pockets. “I seem to have forgotten my cards. May I set up an appointment to see you again? I promise I’ll have my cards.”
“Can you go and pick them up now?”
“Today?” he asked.
“Yes, today.”
Porter raised his arm and stared at his watch. “That may pose a problem because I have an early dinner meeting.” Kara stood up, he rising with her. “Perhaps we can get together again tomorrow?”
“What makes you think I’m going to change my mind?”
He leaned closer. “I was hoping you would change your mind.”
“Only if you meet my price.”
“What if we meet over dinner? I know a wonderful little intimate restaurant on James Island that serves the most incredible seafood in the Lowcountry.”
Kara couldn’t wrap her head around the notion that a man she hadn’t known fifteen minutes ago had just asked her out to dinner. Did he actually believe he could turn on the charm, and she would be so impressed that she would sign on the dotted line?
“I’m sorry, Porter. That’s not possible.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” she repeated. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“What is obvious is that I like you, and I’d like to see you again.”
Kara didn’t know whether to laugh in his face or turn around and walk back into the house and slam the door for dramatic effect. They stared at each other, the seconds becoming a full minute. Then Kara saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Her mother was standing in the doorway watching the exchange, and she wondered how long she’d stood there and how much she’d heard. The sound of an approaching vehicle caught her attention, and Kara turned to find someone speeding up the path to the house.
“What I’d like is for you to leave now.”
She walked barefoot down the steps at the same time Jeff stepped out of the Jeep. He extended his arms, and she went into his embrace. “How did you know?”
“Your mama called me. She thought you could use some help.”
Kara had her answer. It was apparent her mother had eavesdropped on their conversation. “Please get him to leave,” she whispered in Jeff’s ear when he dipped his head.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No, but he’s annoying.”
Jeff kissed her forehead. “Work with me, baby.”
With his muscular arm around her waist, Kara climbed the stairs to the porch. “Porter, Sheriff Hamilton. Sweetheart, this is Porter Caldwell. He’s interested in buying the house, but I told him he couldn’t afford it.”
“Isn’t that just like a woman,” Jeff drawled, shaking his head. “Why do they always presume to make decisions for us? Did she ask you if you could afford it, son?”
Porter’s face brightened as if he’d just discovered an ally. “No, she didn’t.”
Jeff squinted at Kara. “Baby, didn’t I tell you about that?”
She was hard-pressed not to laugh. “Yes, you did, but I figured he wasn’t serious because he doesn’t even have a business card.”
“I… I forgot my cards, but I offered—” Porter stammered nervously.
“You offered what?” Jeff asked when Porter didn’t finish his statement.
“I’d offered to take your girlfriend out to dinner so we could discuss it.”
“He wants to take me to James Island for incredible seafood,” Kara added innocently when Jeff glared at Porter as if he was ready to attack the man.
It was obvious the developers had sent a boy to do a man’s job. Dawn had given her an overview of how neighborhoods, particularly those in New York City, were changed dramatically when they were gentrified. When tenants moved out of rent-controlled or stabilized apartments, landlords allowed them to remain vacant along with a gradual decrease in services. The remaining tenants would eventually move out or the owners would employ more drastic measures by either forcing them out or setting fires. The buildings would remain abandoned, sometimes for years, until a developer would buy up the parcels and rebuild luxury apartments, the selling prices far beyond the means of those who’d lived in the neighborhoods for generations.
Kara had listened to David, Jeff, and Morgan talk about the developers as if they were a small growth, feeding on the residents of the Sea Islands until they became a malignancy, destroying the Gullah culture and their legacy for future generations.
They’d sent a clean-cut, preppy boy wearing a handmade tailored suit and imported footwear, instead of a slick, fast-talking, more experienced man, believing he would be more acceptable and approachable. Well, they were wrong. Even if Kara hadn’t decided whether to stay or leave, the impromptu meeting with Porter had justified why she should stay.
Jeff, dropping his gaze, stared out into the distance. “I can’t believe you asked my woman to go to James Island with you when it’s known that Jack’s Fish House is the best seafood restaurant in the Lowcountry. And it just happens to be a few minutes from here.” His gaze swung back to Porter who looked as if he was ready to bolt off the porch if Jeff made a sudden motion. “Do you think if you took my woman to James Island, I wouldn’t hear about it?” His voice was soft and dangerous.
Porter held up both hands. “Look, man, I wasn’t trying to hit on your woman. I just wanted to talk to her about selling the house.”
“I’m sorry to tell you,” Jeff continued, “but she’s not going to sell. Not for you or for me. I’ve tried to talk her into selling it to come live with me, but she’s as stubborn as a mule.”
Kara rested her hands at her waist. “I’m not living with you, Jeffrey Hamilton. My mama didn’t raise me to shack up with a man, so stop asking me.”
Porter lowered his hand. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave now.” He nodded to Kara, then Jeff. “It’s nice meeting you.” Turning on the heels of his imported footwear, he practically ran to his car, jumped in, and started it up in one continuous motion.
Jeff took out his cell phone and punched in several letters and numbers. “No speeding, son!” he called out as the gleaming black BMW swerved before it was able to regain control and drive along the allée of oaks and away from Angels Landing.
Kara began laughing and couldn’t stop as tears ran down her face. Jeannette, who’d overhead everything, join
ed her as they collapsed on the love seat. “Did you see his face, Mama?”
Jeannette held her belly with both hands. “I heard and saw everything. You and Jeff were hilarious.”
Sobering, Kara stared at her mother. “How long were you standing there?”
“Long enough to hear his spiel. The boy couldn’t sell water in the desert.”
Jeff came over and sat on a chair facing the love seat. “I’ll find out soon enough exactly who he is and who sent him.”
“What are you talking about?” Jeannette asked.
“I got his plate number. Unless that young man has a rich uncle, I doubt whether he’d be able to afford a car with a sticker price starting at six figures.”
Kara met his steady gaze. “I told him I’d sell the house for three mil, and he claimed that figure was doable. Either he does have a very rich uncle or he’s involved in some criminal activity and just happens to have a few millions lying around.”
“I’ll find out soon enough. I know someone who still has connections at the bureau, and we’ll find out who Porter Caldwell is and what he’s all about.”
Jeannette moved to the edge of the cushion. “Do you think Kara is in any danger?”
Reaching out, Jeff patted her hand. “Of course not. But I’m glad you called me. I’m certain Kara would’ve gotten rid of him, but if he believes there’s something going on between the two of us, he won’t approach her again.”
Jeannette placed her hand atop Jeff’s. “I’m leaving here tomorrow, and I want you to look after my baby.”
“Mama!”
“Don’t ‘Mama’ me, Kara. You’re my only child, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Don’t worry, Miss Jeannette. I’ll make certain nothing happens to her.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.” Jeff stood, bringing Jeannette up with him. He smiled, then kissed her cheek. “What time are you leaving tomorrow?”
“Around eight in the morning. Why?”
“I thought I’d treat you to breakfast before you leave.”
“I’d like that,” Jeannette said quickly.
Angels Landing Page 17
