Like One of the Family

by Kimberly Van Meter

  His mouth tightened and she knew she’d hit a nerve. Good. Surely he didn’t think she’d just roll over and let him do whatever he pleased with her family’s legacy just because he’d managed to talk her Pops into an ill-advised business arrangement? No, he was smarter than that but the way he was sending her hard stares told her he wasn’t happy with her questions.

  “I didn’t agree to go to lunch with you so that we could argue,” he said finally, leaning back in the chair as if he needed to put distance between them. “How about this…just look at the inventory and then decide if you hate it. Okay?”

  She supposed that was fair but she doubted there was anything that would sway her opinion. She knew marketing, it was what she did back in Chicago and she did it well. Or at least she used to think so. She shook off that depressing thought.

  She did know that a resort outside on the fringe of town wasn’t likely to move a lot of ritzy inventory in their little gift shop—no matter how much Heath believed it would.

  Lora withheld the sharp dressing-down that she would’ve let fly if he were simply another business associate seeking her involvement with a cockamamy idea that was likely to cost a lot and return little, but she held her tongue. He was asking a small thing, and she supposed in deference to the care he’d shown with Pops and Lilah, she could give it to him.

  “All right, I’ll withhold my final judgment until I see what kind of inventory and marketing plan you’ve put together for the new gift shop, but—”

  “No buts,” Heath interjected with a short grin that was oddly endearing even though she hated being interrupted. “You said you’d give it a chance. I’d call that a successful business meeting. So let’s call it a day on the business lunch and actually take time to eat and enjoy.”

  She opened her mouth to clarify but their order had arrived and with the first bite of that boiled banana, the distinctive flavor bursting on her tastebuds, she realized she hadn’t eaten this particular island dish since Grams had died.

  “As good as you remember?” he asked around a hot bite.

  Tears stung her eyes and she ducked her head so he wouldn’t see the moisture welling. “Pretty good,” she managed to answer. “But then how hard is it to boil a banana?” she said, trying for flip but even to her own ears it sounded woefully obvious that she was struggling to maintain her composure. Oh, damn, she thought, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall. She shrugged, suddenly without words. She missed Grams so much it hurt. This was why she avoided the island, her sisters, Pops, even boiled bananas.

  And right about now, as the pain of her grief rolled over her, avoidance had seemed like a pretty good method of dealing.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SHE LOOKED UP AND SAW Heath watching her with knowing, something she wasn’t used to seeing reflected at her on someone else’s face. Mostly because she never allowed anyone to get that close. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she said.

  “Do what?”

  “Look at me like you know me.” She lifted her chin. “Because you don’t know me. Not really. I’m not the same person I was when I lived here and even when I was here I wouldn’t say we were close.”

  Heath held her stare for a long moment and she was overwhelmed by the irrational and childish urge to jump up and run away but she held her ground. Then Heath lifted his shoulder in a shrug and took another bite, any warmth that may have been there before had fled. “Remembering that you liked boiled bananas doesn’t mean anything. Don’t read more into it than what it is.”

  “Good,” she said, stiffly satisfied, yet she couldn’t help the feeling that she’d just cut her nose to spite her face. “Good,” she repeated, taking another bite. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

  Same page, same book…so why did she feel a lingering sense of disappointment?

  Lora knew how people felt about her—that surely she couldn’t share DNA with the twins, who were both in their own way charismatic and engaging, or Grams and Pops who had never met a person they didn’t like—and honestly, she hadn’t cared what other people thought, which had come in handy when it’d been time to be ruthless in her career. But, right now, seeing the cool, open dislike shining in Heath’s eyes, she felt more than disappointment, she felt the pinch of regret. It wasn’t Heath’s fault that she had difficulty letting people get close to her, and thus far he’d been fairly civil when she had not. But even knowing an apology was due on her part, she couldn’t get the words free from her mouth.

  It’d always been this way with her. For some reason, apologizing had been her biggest struggle. Something Grams had clucked her teeth in disapproval over each time she’d found herself in such a position.

  But Grams wasn’t here any longer and there was no one to remind her when she needed to swallow a bit of humble pie. Oddly, she missed Grams for that, too, even though when it’d happened, she’d wanted to howl at the moon with frustration.

  “What’s your job like in Chicago?” Heath asked, presumably to move the conversation to more neutral territory. Of course, he didn’t know that her job was another subject she wanted to steer clear of. She avoided looking at him and tossed her banana peel onto her plate along with her other trash. “Pops says you’re pretty important with your company. He’s real proud, you know.”

  She dusted her hands and then wiped the beads of sweat away. If only Pops knew what she did for a living, he might not be so quick to praise. She’d never felt a twinge of conscience for any of the underhanded, dirty tricks she’d pulled to win a client over a competitor, considering all things fair in love and war—and the kind of business she dealt in was certainly war. But now that she’d been cast adrift by the very people who’d praised her ruthlessness a year ago, it’d forced her to take a hard look at what she did for a living. And she wasn’t comfortable with what she saw. Why the attack of conscience she didn’t know, but as of late she’d felt as though she’d been beaten with a sharp stick. It was a hard pill to swallow, realizing that perhaps at her core, no one liked her for good reason. “It’s a job, like any other and I’m good at it,” she said, hoping to put an end to the conversation. “It pays the bills. How about you?” Was she really making small talk? She almost grimaced at her own dialogue, wondering how normal people have meandering conversations about nothing in particular. When Lora went to dinner or lunch with someone, she had an agenda. She knew why she was going and had a strategy to put into play. Without that mental itinerary, she wasn’t sure how to be social, especially with someone like Heath.

  “Larimar keeps me busy, but I love it,” he said simply. “Although I have bigger dreams than just Larimar.”

  She regarded him with mild surprise and faint embarrassment. Her expression must’ve been transparent because he said, “You didn’t think I had dreams, too? That maybe all I ever aspired to be was a handyman for a resort I didn’t own or ever have any hope of owning?”

  If he was mocking her, she probably deserved it, since that’s exactly what she’d thought of Heath. Well, that was giving herself too much credit. She’d never considered Heath’s hopes or dreams. The conversation, she noted with an uncomfortable twinge, was making her appear terribly self-absorbed, yet another character flaw Grams had hoped to root out and failed.

  Heath saved her from answering, saying, “It’s okay. I get it. Why would the neglected kid of notorious drug addicts who gahn een have dreams bigger than he deserved to dream, right?”

  Gahn een, Crucian for someone who’d lost their mind to drugs, she thought. Her knowledge of the language was rusty but coming back to her. She’d never asked about Heath’s parents, but had gathered enough through the whisperings between Pops and Grams. Lora shook her head, murmuring, “No, of course not,” she said, though her cheeks heated at the lie. It was one thing to admit she was self-involved to herself, yet another to admit it out loud. This conversatio
n was becoming more awkward by the minute, she wanted to groan. She grabbed her purse, prepared to pay Heath back for the lunch, when he stayed her hand. She stared at him, perplexed. “I have to pay you back,” she said.

  He stood, flashing a brief subtle smile that made his hazel eyes look terribly alluring, and said, “Don’t worry about it. I’m a businessman now. I need the deductions. You can catch the next one.”

  Lora nodded, her heart fluttering in an odd dance of impropriety, and rose, eager to get away from Heath, the painfully awkward conversation, and the disconcerting feelings that were suddenly making an appearance at the most inopportune moments.

  “Right. Good. Yes, you want to keep all receipts,” she said, searching for a way to lessen the discomfort she felt. “And make sure you have a date book or mile log that you can reference with appointments to prove business expenses. That way if you ever get audited you have backup of expenses. Well, at least that’s what I do…I like to have all bases covered.”

  He gave her another mock salute as he said, “Thanks. Who’d have ever thought you’d be giving me business advice?” He grinned and she realized he was trying to lighten things between them. She attempted a small smile but felt completely out of her element so she stopped, instead clearing her throat and saying, “So, in light of your request that I check out the inventory before I judge the contents, would you like to meet back in about an hour or so? I have a few errands to run before then, otherwise, I’d say let’s do it now. Every moment we don’t put a plan into action, is another moment lost to fix things.”

  “Yeah, sure,” he said, his eyes losing the faint amusement in their depths. “An hour sounds good.”

  “Great. See you then.”

  They parted ways and Lora exhaled the breath that had felt trapped in her chest.

  Why was this happening to her now of all times? If she and Heath had been destined to suffer through some kind of relationship, it would’ve been more convenient to go through it in their teens when things had been far more simple. They could’ve gone through whatever angsty romance teens do and then walked away when it was time to end things. Now—and she wasn’t saying she wanted to encourage whatever was happening at the moment—was terribly bad timing with the possibility of messy consequences.

  Oh, who was she kidding? Lora wanted to snort. She wouldn’t have been open to a relationship with Heath when they were teens. In spite of the fact that he’d always been around, Lora had gone out of her way to make sure he knew she wasn’t open to friendship, much less romance. She closed her eyes briefly before they snapped back open again. She’d been a royal pain, and even Grams, who’d loved her dearly, had been aggravated at times by Lora’s rigid and disapproving attitude.

  “Child, you’ve the soul of a grouchy old man whose shorts are too tight,” Grams had scolded one day when Lora had sniped at Heath for something. She couldn’t even remember what she’d been perturbed about but she surely remembered Grams reaction. “If you don’t change your tune, you’re going to end up singing alone.”

  She smiled in spite of the memory being a less than flattering one. Grams had always had her number. She missed Grams terribly—especially now when her world had been dumped upside down. Somehow Grams would’ve known what to say or do to get Lora to see things in a different light.

  Of course, if Grams had lived, she likely would’ve had a few things to say about the way Lora lived her life. Grams would’ve said, “Didn’t I raise you better than that?”

  The short answer was yes. But nothing was as simple as that. She thought of Heath and somehow she knew that he would never compromise his values to get ahead.

  That’s half the problem, she grumbled to the idealistic voice in her head. Maybe if Heath had been less of a romantic, he might’ve seen that his business plan was flawed, which was why Larimar was in this pickle.

  She didn’t care what Heath said, pricey trinkets, homemade or otherwise, were not what people wanted to stuff in their carry-on bag when they left the resort. They wanted silly, fun, vacation mementos to put on their desk at work. They wanted a reminder of the fun and frivolous time they had in the Virgin Islands—and nothing said fun and frivolous better than a goofy magnet or coffee mug. In her experience, T-shirts were best because they rolled up easily in the luggage and after the cheap ink had faded after one or two washings, it could be used as a workout shirt or as a dust rag.

  “Ohh, my…is that Lora Bell?” An incredulous and surprised voice cut into her thoughts and caused her to turn. She saw a woman, roughly Lora’s age, walking toward her holding her straw hat on her head. It was a full, confusion-driven minute before Lora realized she was looking at one of her schoolmates. The woman approached and gave Lora a hug. “Look at you! You haven’t aged a minute since we graduated! What are you up to?”

  Lora forced a smile but for the life of her couldn’t remember the woman’s name. Talk about awkward. “Just working…visiting family right now. How about you?” she said, cleverly getting out of needing to use the woman’s first name.

  “Can’t complain. I summer on the island and go stateside to make some cash. You know how it is. Times are hard. Even the locals can’t seem to stay on the island all year-round unless they’re rich.” The woman grinned knowingly as she said, “But then you know that. Larimar is one of the nicest resorts on the island. I was real sorry to hear about your Pops, though. That must be a terrible burden.”

  “Oh? What did you hear?” she asked, not liking that a complete stranger seemed to know more about her grandfather than she did.

  “Just that he was having a bit of a hard time nowadays. Happens to the best of us. My nona had the same problem. We ended up having to put her in a home because she wandered too much and we were afraid she was going to wander right into the ocean and drown. Have you considered a home yet? There’s a nice one in St. Thomas that is real clean and whatnot. I should get you the name and phone number,” she said, suddenly fishing in her purse. “Let me see if I can find a pen and paper.”

  Pops would hate being anywhere near St. Thomas. It wasn’t his cup of tea, as Grams would often say. In fact, when the major shopping had to be done, Grams always did it because Pops did nothing but complain about the crazy drivers and the subsequent traffic. “Thanks but we’re not to that point yet,” Lora said. “He’s doing just fine, actually. He’s not wandering or anything like that.”

  The woman lifted her brow. “Really? I thought I heard someone say that he’d wandered about and fallen. Cracked his head open and needed stitches.”

  Damn small island. The grapevine was wicked quick with anything juicy. “Well, he’s fine. Thanks for asking,” Lora said with a smile, without actually addressing the woman’s query. “It was great to see you again…” She trailed, hoping the woman would get the hint and move on as well, but she didn’t.

  “I can’t even remember the last time I saw you. Last I heard you were leaving the island and never coming back.” She laughed and Lora smiled wanly. Yes, she’d been a bit vocal in her disdain for island life. Her cheeks threatened to bloom with embarrassment but she managed to keep her reaction in check. Who was this woman, anyway? Before Lora had a chance to search her memory further, the woman eyed her speculatively, saying, “Well, you always had big dreams. How’d that work out for you?”

  “Great. I was—am—the marketing director of a large firm in Chicago. I’m just here to help out the family with a few things then I’m back to Chicago,” Lora lied with a bright smile as if everything in her life was just ducky and she had nothing but rainbows and butterflies in her rearview mirror. With a sudden flash of recognition, Lora realized who she was talking to and her gaze narrowed quickly. Natty George. They’d hated each other in high school. Natty had been one of those girls who had gone out of her way to make sure Lora had felt uncomfortable and awkward in social settings. And she was pretty sure Nat
ty had had an insane crush on Heath.

  As if zeroing in on Lora’s train of thought, Natty said, “So how’s it going with Heath? I always wondered how he managed to get in with your family resort when he’s not even related. I figured he must’ve done something right with one of you girls,” Natty said with a wink. “Not that I blame you one iota. That man could melt ice with that body.”

  Immediately incensed by the assumption that Heath must’ve been sleeping with her or her sisters to become a part of the resort had her snapping as she set Natty straight. “Heath has been a part of our family for years, since he was a kid. We might not share a drop of blood but my grandfather considers him family just the same and not because he’s hooking up with any of us.”

  Natty seemed affronted by Lora’s curt response and said, “Well, look who’s all territorial all of a sudden. I certainly didn’t mean to offend you. Of course, Heath’s a great guy. No complaints in that department. I know firsthand what a generous and loving man he is.”

  “Oh?”

  “Of course,” Natty said, her gaze turning sly in a manner that made Lora inexplicably irritated. “Obviously, you’ve been off island for too long. There’s a shortage of good men available and Heath Cannon is one of the top prizes here.” She sighed, regretfully. “Unfortunately, none have managed to hold on to him for long. He’s a confirmed bachelor. More’s the pity. That man is a cool drink of water on a hot day, if you know what I mean. Oh, what am I saying, of course you know. You’d have to be blind not to.”

  Straightening, Lora didn’t know what to say to that. It made her intensely uncomfortable to be standing there chatting about Heath’s attributes to a woman she hadn’t seen since high school and didn’t have great memories of besides, and squirming privately at the thought of Heath knocking boots with this woman.

  “Speak of the devil…”