Secrets on Cedar Key

by Terri DuLong

  When we finished, my mother gently tapped a spoon against a coffee cup for quiet and attention.

  “Merry Christmas, and I want to thank all of you for your patronage throughout the year and for coming this evening. With the opening of Marin’s Serendipity Needleworks in January, I think we have an exciting year ahead. After the holidays we’ll be ready to move a lot of the yarn out to the carriage house, and I think you’ll enjoy having more room to browse all the different yarns. I also wanted you to know that beginning next week the patio area out back will be open and ready for all of us to use.”

  A round of applause and laughter filled the room.

  “Many of you have commented on the shawl that Marin is wearing this evening. I did design the pattern, and I made it for Marin. You might see that most of the design is the same one we used in the Cedar Key scarf, with the addition of a bit of lace along the edges. Some of you have inquired as to why I chose to call it the Compassion Shawl . . . but since it is Marin’s, I’m going to let her tell you.”

  I walked to where my mother was standing and felt a bit nervous. Although I knew each of these women quite well, I couldn’t be sure how they would accept what I was about to tell them. I let out a deep breath as I looked down and fingered the edge of the shawl and then looked up to a group of expectant faces.

  “Well,” I began. “As some of you know . . . I recently found out that Andrew has a daughter. A daughter that I knew nothing about until a couple of months ago.” I paused, trying to form my thoughts in my head. “Fiona Caldwell is now nineteen years old and lives in the Boston area. Needless to say, I was quite shocked and had a lot of difficulty dealing with this news. I was informed by Andrew’s attorney that Fiona wanted me to contact her. She wanted to meet me and my sons, who of course are her half brothers.” I cleared my throat before going on. “I spoke to her once before leaving for Paris and had no idea what to do. However, while I was in Paris I was able to think and sort things out . . . and I’ve made the decision to have Fiona come here to visit. She will arrive on Christmas Eve. My boys arrive the day before, which is when I will be sharing this news with them.” I glanced at my mother. “And because of my decision, my mother felt that I had done the right thing, which inspired her to design this shawl and call it the Compassion Shawl.” I swallowed before I continued. “She said it represented the compassion I’d shown by forgiving Andrew and accepting Fiona.”

  Loud cheers filled the room as I felt myself being enveloped in my mother’s arms and heard murmurs of love from the women.

  “What a beautiful story.”

  “Dora, what a wonderful idea you had.”

  “Isn’t it just gorgeous? I have to have that pattern.”

  I wiped at my eyes and held up a hand. “And I also wanted to explain that the reason the color of the yarn is paprika is because the color of forgiveness is orange. Polly said earlier that she’d like our knitting group to make some of these shawls for us to sell at the Arts Festival in the coming year, and I think it’s a great idea.”

  The agreement was unanimous, and my mother said she’d have the pattern printed and ready to pass out at our first knitting group after the holidays.

  Before the evening was over, every single woman had approached me to offer support about Fiona’s impending visit, saying they looked forward to meeting her and would welcome her to the island.

  Yes, I thought, there is a lot to be said for female friendship, and I am so very glad to be a part of it.

  40

  In the almost two weeks that Worth and I had been back from Paris, we’d managed to have a few nights together. A couple of times I spent the night with him in his cottage at the Faraway, and one evening we went to Safe Harbor to relax with wine and ended up spending the night. But we were far from settling into any kind of regular routine of being together.

  So when he asked me to come with him to his home in Ocala on Saturday afternoon and spend the night, I jumped at the invitation. Bella was arriving the next day, the boys the day after that, and then Fiona. Who knew when we’d have time to be alone together in the near future?

  I allowed my head to rest back on the car seat, eyes closed, soaking up the warm December sun, which touched my face in the open convertible, and listened to Pachelbel’s Canon on the CD player. After a few minutes I felt Worth’s hand on my knee and glanced over at his handsome face. His eyes were focused on the road, but I caught the smile on his lips.

  “Happy?” I asked.

  “Very much so, and you?”

  “I am.” I liked so many things about being with Worth, but one of the best was the easy feeling he created when I was with him. Over the years with Andrew, a lot of our time together had been stressful, brought about by Andrew’s moods and always resulting in an undercurrent of tension. But it was so different with Worth—I didn’t have to be careful what I said or how I expressed an opinion. I was coming to understand that if I didn’t agree with him, that was okay and not cause for anger or harsh words on his part. I liked this easy feeling, this being myself, this sharing of time and love with another person.

  “I have a surprise for you when we get to the house,” I heard him say and sat up straighter in my seat.

  “You like surprises, don’t you?” I asked.

  “I like giving you surprises, yes.”

  “And you’re not going to give me a hint, are you?”

  I saw the devilish grin on his face and knew the answer was no.

  Just before we pulled up to his driveway, Worth’s cell phone went off. He answered and I heard him laugh before saying, “Yeah, it’s fine. She’d probably enjoy that.” There was a pause and he said, “Okay, great. Bye.”

  “That was Doyle,” he explained. “He said he had some Christmas cookies that Suzette was drooling over and wanted to be sure it was okay if she had one.”

  I smiled. “He’s a good dog sitter.”

  “He is, and with Doyle taking her, it gives us a bit more alone time.”

  I followed him into the house, with him carrying my overnight bag. Strange, how at almost fifty-seven years old this still felt a bit risqué, and I smiled. It might be risqué, but it also felt right.

  “Lunch and some wine first,” he said, depositing my bag near the staircase and heading to the kitchen.

  I looked out to the patio area and noticed that the sun had disappeared and the sky was becoming overcast. “Are we eating in or out?”

  Worth opened the fridge and removed a bottle of champagne along with various plates before glancing outside. “I think we’ll be okay out there. The table’s under the roof in case it rains.”

  I nodded and went to the cabinet to remove dishes and to the drawer for silverware. I was beginning to feel quite at home in this kitchen and smiled because I thought that was a very good thing.

  I had the patio table all set and walked back into the kitchen to hear the pop of the champagne cork. “I love that sound.”

  “Me too.” Worth filled two flutes with the amber liquid. Passing me one and holding his up, he said, “Merry Christmas, Marin. I know it’s going to get pretty hectic over the next week, so I want today to be our special Christmas together. I love you . . . and I’ll always love you.”

  I raised my glass and said, “Merry Christmas, Worth. I’m glad our paths have crossed, and I love you too. You mean the world to me.”

  He took my glass, placed it on the counter, and pulled me into his arms before touching his lips to mine. It still surprised me that the closeness of him caused me to feel a heat radiating through my body that I wasn’t used to. I felt the pressure of his hand on my back increase as our kiss deepened. When we pulled apart, I felt lightheaded and tingly, blowing out a deep breath.

  “That was nice,” I said.

  His lips touched mine again and he nodded. “It was very nice, but . . . I guess we should have lunch before we get too carried away.”

  I laughed as I picked up my champagne flute and followed him to the patio.

/>   Over a delicious lunch of quiche and salad, our conversation never wavered. Something else I loved about Worth—his ability to talk about a variety of topics and make all of them interesting.

  Just as we were about to have coffee and cognac, the first raindrops began to hit the pool, creating ripples in the water, and the temperature began to get cooler.

  “Why don’t we take this inside?” he said. “We can sit in the living room and I can get a fire going.”

  I laughed. “I know what a romantic you are, but don’t you think it’s too warm for a fire?”

  “Nah, it’s only about, what? Sixty degrees?” He placed the tray with our coffee and cognac on the table in front of the sofa and proceeded to get a fire going in the fireplace as I curled up on the huge pillows on the floor.

  Once he got the fire roaring, he sat beside me on an adjacent pillow.

  I took a sip of coffee and literally felt my body relax. That was another thing I noticed when I was with Worth—whatever stress I might have been feeling magically vanished.

  He reached for my hand, encircling it in his, and I smiled. “This is nice,” I said.

  “It is,” he agreed.

  I let out a sigh of contentment.

  “Have you given any thought to our long-term arrangements?” he asked.

  “Not really. I have no idea how long Fiona plans to stay down here, but I wouldn’t think it would be longer than a couple of weeks, if that. I mean, I think she really wants to meet Jason and John more than me, and they’re only going to be here for five days. She may be gone before I even move into my new house.”

  I felt his nod against my shoulder. “True. Well, would you have any problem with me staying at your new place once Fiona leaves? I could stay there during the week, and then on the weekends . . . we could come here.”

  I smiled. “Sounds like the best of both worlds to me.”

  “Good,” he said, getting up. “I have something for you.”

  He left the room and returned with a small box beautifully wrapped in Christmas paper and ribbon.

  “My surprise?” I asked.

  He sat beside me and shook his head. “Well, maybe one of them. The one I was referring to will come later. This is your Christmas present, and even though it’s still a few days away, I wanted to give it to you now. Alone.”

  I carefully removed the paper to reveal an imprint from a jewelry shop in Paris and looked up at Worth, who shot me a smile.

  Opening the box, I saw a gorgeous gold bracelet with a gold charm of the Eiffel Tower dangling from the center. “Oh, Worth! It’s just beautiful.” I held it up to the light of the fireplace, and that’s when I noticed . . . Were those diamonds arranged down the side of the tower? Oh, my God, they were! I knew without a doubt that this was the most expensive piece of jewelry that I’d ever owned.

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  “Like it? My God, I love it. But . . . I’d be so afraid to lose it or . . . have something happen to it.”

  He let out a laugh. “Don’t be silly. What’s the sense of having something you love, really love, if you can’t enjoy it. Here,” he said, reaching for my wrist. “Let me fasten the clasp so you can wear it.”

  I extended my arm and saw the look of pure joy on his face as he attached the bracelet to my wrist. “Perfect. It’s perfect for you. Our time together in Paris was so special that I wanted you to have something meaningful to remember those days . . . and nights.”

  As if I could ever forget. I threw my arms around his neck. “Thank you, Worth. Thank you so much, but I’ll always remember our time together in Paris. You don’t need to worry about that.”

  I thought of the cable sweater and matching scarf that I had knitted for his Christmas present and felt embarrassed. I had it tucked away in my overnight bag, but after the extravagant gift he’d just presented me with, mine seemed shabby in comparison.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Add another thing to the reasons why I loved Worth. He had this uncanny ability to simply look at my face and decipher my emotions.

  “I have your gift with me, but . . .”

  “But?”

  I held up my wrist. “After this extraordinary gift from you . . . I’m afraid mine can’t compare.”

  He pulled me into his arms. “Don’t be silly,” he said against my ear. “Please. Don’t feel like that. I didn’t buy you this bracelet because of the cost. I bought it because I wanted it to have special meaning for you. Please accept it with my love.”

  He was right. I was allowing price to come before his sincere reason for choosing this particular bracelet. I nodded and got up, heading to my bag in the foyer.

  I returned and passed him the gaily wrapped box. “Merry Christmas, Worth. I hope you’ll like it.”

  I swear the grin and expression on his face reminded me of a five-year-old as he ripped off the paper and opened the box. He removed the pale blue sweater with twisting cables down the front and held it up. “You made this for me?”

  I nodded.

  He reached back into the box and removed the matching scarf.

  “And this?”

  I nodded again, and that’s when I noticed the moisture gleaming in his eyes.

  He took a deep swallow and said, “This is the nicest thing anybody has ever done for me.” Pulling me into his arms, he whispered, “Thank you, Marin. I love it and I love you. So very much.”

  He was definitely right. Price had nothing to do with a gift, if it was given in love. I had made many knitted items over the years for Andrew and the boys, and I couldn’t recall ever witnessing such deep sentiment from the recipient.

  “I’m glad you like it,” I said against his ear. “And I love you, Worth. You are the love of my life.”

  He pulled away and fingered the sweater. “When I wear this, I will feel like your arms are wrapped around me. Thank you again.” He replaced the sweater and scarf in the box and stood up.

  “Okay,” he said. “That other surprise I had for you? You have to give me a little bit of time to arrange it.”

  I looked up with what I was sure was a bewildered expression on my face.

  He laughed, and I saw a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Enjoy the rest of your cognac. I’m going upstairs and I’ll be back to get you shortly.”

  I shook my head and smiled. What on earth was this man up to?

  About fifteen minutes later Worth walked into the room, reached down for my hand, and led me upstairs to the master suite.

  “Close your eyes,” he said, not letting go of my hand.

  I did and felt him guiding me forward.

  “Okay. You can open your eyes now.”

  When I did, I saw we were standing on the threshold of the room that contained the Jacuzzi, and I gasped. The entire room shimmered with candles, which had been placed all around the tub, on the vanity, everywhere—all different sizes, creating a seductive glow. On one end of the tub was a large vase of yellow roses. On the opposite end was a silver ice bucket cooling a bottle of what I had no doubt was Piper-Heidsieck. Coming from speakers in the ceiling was the haunting voice of Edith Piaf. The fragrance filling the air was a mixture of patchouli, sandalwood, and musk, and the tub jets bubbled enticingly.

  “You did all of this?” I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. The romance of it was overwhelming, but to know it was Worth’s idea made it all that much more incredible.

  “I did,” he whispered against my ear as I felt him unzip my jeans while placing short bursts of kisses on my lips. “I thought we could enjoy this special time . . .” He paused to lift my sweater over my head. “Together.”

  I felt him slide my jeans to the floor as his lips found mine again. His kisses intensified as he unhooked my bra, and it too found its way beside the jeans. Heat radiated through my body as he now slid my panties to the floor before placing his mouth on my breast. Just when I was sure I couldn’t control my desire for him another moment, he stepped back, gave me that sexy smile of
his, reached for my hand, and led me to the steps of the Jacuzzi.

  “Now . . . I will show you what true relaxation is,” he said, as that devilish grin returned to his face.

  41

  On the drive back to Cedar Key the following morning, I allowed my mind to recapture snippets of the night before. I knew without a doubt that I had never experienced such a seductive and fulfilling time with any man. Worth was definitely unique. In the ways he gave pleasure and the way he enjoyed pleasure. I smiled to myself as he drove along SR 24 and soft music filled the car. Teenagers and young people think they have the edge on sex, but I would disagree. Perhaps they do with just sex, since hormones are raging and lust is uppermost in their minds. But I had come to know that there is a distinct difference between sex and making love. And what Worth and I shared as an adult couple was a genuine connection of two people, not only in love but in sync.

  “Thinking good thoughts?” I heard him say as he reached over to rub my leg.

  I smiled. “Always. I was thinking about last night. Thank you for that. It was wonderful. All of it.”

  “It was my pleasure,” he said, and I knew he meant that.

  We maintained a comfortable silence for the rest of the drive. As we approached the Number Four bridge, I looked to my right and saw that it was high tide. The rain of the day before was gone and sunlight glittered on the water.

  Worth reached for my hand. “I’m going to miss you,” he said.

  Although we would be in each other’s company over the next week, I knew what he meant. “And I’ll miss you too.” I let out a sigh. “We might have to devise creative ways to be together,” I told him, and this brought forth Worth’s laughter.

  “Well, this sports car doesn’t have a backseat, so, yeah, we might have to get mighty creative.”

  I laughed at the thought.

  Worth dropped me at my mother’s before going to pick up Suzette with a promise he’d be back in time for dinner. He wanted to give me some girl time with Bella, which I thought was considerate.