I laughed. "No. But I believe work is good for the soul. Having a routine and a reason to get up in the morning is important. Besides, you've been telling me about all these cars you're fixing. Sounds to me like you have a going concern. No way that I'm going to support you in your old age."
That got a laugh from Poppy. "Even if I worked around the clock, I couldn't afford membership in one of them fancy country clubs anyway. Can't imagine myself chasing a little white ball around with a stick and paying for the privilege. You're probably right. Retiring would be the death of me."
"I understand. I like feeling useful, too," I said, as I took a bite of my turkey sandwich. The meat was dry and the bread nearly stale. I missed Pumpernickel's.
"Where'd you end up staying?" Poppy asked, as he finished his fries. He’d already forgotten what I’d told him. This was not a good sign.
"At Skye's apartment. Her roommate was out of town."
"She's a good girl."
"She's been wonderful to me."
After he paid for our food, I dropped Poppy off at his shop and drove to Humberger Real Estate, which wasn't hard to find. They'd rented a spot in a plaza off of Dixie Highway. Their front window told me everything I needed to know. A handwritten sign proclaimed, "CLOSED."
My next stop was a Publix grocery store, where I loaded a cart with a new mop, cleaning supplies, plastic garbage bags, rags, paper towels, a thick pair of rubber gloves, and a filtered air mask. Both Poppy's shop and his home would need industrial strength products, the type of solutions that ate the skin right off your hands and curdled your lungs. I intended to protect myself from the hazards. I drove back to Dick's Gas E Bait and pretty soon, I was elbow deep in Poppy's stinky fish tank.
Messes like this were totally foreign to my nature. Beyond grossing me out, they made me nervous. But as I'd told Skye, I enjoyed cleaning and went at the job with gusto. While Poppy finished his work on Black Beauty, I scooped limp and decaying fish carcasses out of the water. Even though I tried to be careful, yucky fish parts got on me. Mucky water splashed on the floor. My mop only moved the big puddles around, spreading the goop farther and farther, as rivulets escaped and ran under Poppy's desk. There was only one way to tackle a problem like this.
I got down on my hands and knees.
Poppy stuck his head in the door and said, "They sent me the wrong part for your car. Took the old one out before I discovered the mistake. I'm going to drive to the auto supply shop over in Jupiter and grab the right one myself. I don't want you without wheels any longer than you have to be."
"Okay," I said, wishing I could leave, too. The dead fish had been double-bagged, so the smell was not as bad as before, but the water sloshed on the floor still stunk. So did I.
"Right," and he was gone.
The mop proved almost useless at getting up all of the water. I found a couple of old rags in Poppy's pile of junk. With one in each hand, I crawled around on the floor and sopped up liquid. My butt was up in the air and both hands were covered in goop, when the last person in the world that I wanted to see, walked through the door.
23
"Cara?" His voice had deepened over the years, but even with my back to him, I knew it was Cooper Rivers.
I rocked back onto my feet, but I couldn't turn around. Suddenly I was fifteen again and hopelessly in love. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. Instead I stayed perfectly still, my lower lip trembling. A wild fury of emotions hit me so hard I thought I'd die on the spot.
"Go away," I said.
I should have figured he'd come looking for me. After all, I'd stolen his precious building.
Of course, Cooper knew where to find me. He'd grown up in Stuart. The Gas E Bait was a local landmark.
I should have been prepared for his visit.
But I wasn't.
"Cara Mia. It's been a long, long time, hasn't it?"
"Go away," I said again.
Over the sound of my heart beating, I heard him come closer.
"Cara?" It was a plea.
"No," I responded with cowardice.
Neither of us knew how to move forward. The momentum we'd had years ago was lost to us. The pain was fresh. In my awkward position, my toes complained about my pose. Pretty soon I would have to move, but I couldn't bring myself to get up and turn around. What if he wasn't really there? What if I had imagined Cooper's presence?
"Please, please, go away," I whispered.
"Why?" He sounded genuinely curious.
"You lied. You told me you loved me. But you let me disappear. You never even wrote to me!"
"I did, too!" In a flash, he was next to me. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw him, but I still couldn't bring myself to face him. His tug on my arm was gentle but insistent.
I couldn't turn around. I just couldn't!
"Cara? Please?" He slowly turned me toward him. I dropped my gaze to the floor, hoping to postpone the moment. When I couldn't keep my balance any longer, I sank back onto my butt. It was a movement that should have pulled me out of his grasp. Instead, he gathered me to his chest and lifted us both to our feet.
Holding me in one arm, he used his free hand to lift my chin with his index finger. I kept my eyes downcast until the last possible moment, and then I gave in. I looked at him.
The boy had grown into a gorgeous man, just as everyone had predicted he would. Oh, he was older. His face was more lean and mature. His jet black hair was sprinkled with strands of gray. But those fabulous cheekbones that betrayed his Native American heritage were still as sharp as ax blades. In his amber colored eyes, I saw a mixture of wonder and humor.
"Cooper," I said.
As always, he smelled like the sun and the sea, a mix both exotic and outdoorsy. I could see the shape of his rock-hard pec muscles through the yellow knit shirt. He still favored simple khaki pants and topsider shoes without socks. In many ways, as we looked each other over, it seemed to me that he hadn't changed at all, except to get better looking with the years.
"Cooper." I put my arms around his neck and hugged him. We were sixteen and eighteen again. Young lovers amazed by the passion we'd discovered. Even though two decades had passed, the fit of our bodies seemed exactly right. I felt the tension drain from me as a delicious sense of homecoming took its place. I pressed close to him.
"I wrote you every day," he whispered to my hair. "For a year and a half. You never responded. I called your house only to be told your home phone number had been changed. I did everything I could. I was frantic. Finally, your parents complained to the authorities that I was harassing you. That really put a scare into Ma. She begged me to leave you alone. I threw in the towel, Cara. I dropped out of college and joined the Navy. I wanted to get as far away as possible."
"I never knew!" I felt hot and cold. Angry and confused. How could my mother have done this to me? It had to have been her doing. She didn't approve of Cooper. Her prejudices against Native Americans ran too deep.
"I wrote to you!" I said.
"Did you mail the letters yourself?" he asked.
I paused. "No."
"Your mother," he said, with a growl.
My mother, the all-powerful and all-knowing, had objected to my involvement with "that Indian boy." I could imagine how it happened. Over time, she had managed to wear down my father's objections. One morning without warning, they'd hustled me into the car, for what I'd thought was a shopping trip to Orlando.
She'd thought of everything, my canny mother did. She'd fed me a mug of hot chocolate with a sedative in it. I didn't wake up until Georgia. By then, I was groggy and confused.
Mom had meant to save me from myself, but instead she'd ruined my life, or so I had decided—and I'd never forgiven her for it, not even as she lay dying.
We might have stood there longer, but Cooper finally said, "Cara, may I ask you a question?"
I looked up into those beautiful eyes and nodded.
"Why do you smell like dead fish?"
24
I b
urst out laughing. "I've been cleaning Poppy's bait tank. The air pump went out. You should have smelled it before I dumped the floaters."
"Ugh. Let's step outside."
My odorific self was not as powerful in the open air as it had been in the confined space of my grandfather's gas station. Despite how badly I stunk, and how dirty I was, the world looked pretty terrific to me. Even the stained and frayed silk flowers in the pots beside the front door seemed impossibly cheery. Cooper and I leaned against the glass display window, our shoulders touching in perfect symmetry.
"I heard you pulled a fast one on my real estate agent," he said, as he took my hand.
"Yeah."
"He's dead."
"I know. I was the one who found his body."
"I heard. That must have been a shock. You okay?" He put a hand on my arm, lightly.
"I guess. It wasn't a highlight of my life, that's for sure."
"I can imagine. Why'd you let Hal think that you represented me? I don't remember you being quite so sneaky."
He didn't sound angry, only slightly irritated. Somehow his casual attitude rubbed me wrong. "Me? Sneaky? You're the one who wanted to run my grandfather out of business."
Those amber eyes turned a cool shade of yellow. "You've got it wrong."
"I don't think so. Not when it involves my grandfather. Losing this place would kill him. You know that!"
"I don't know anything of the sort." His eyes flashed with anger. "I would never purposefully hurt your grandfather. Cara, surely you know me better than that."
"I thought I did. Why were you trying to put him out of business? This place is Poppy's life!"
"Not hardly. It's his death warrant, not his life. Besides, he has his family."
"All he has is me! And my son! My father just died. Mom passed before he did." I felt the heat rise up my neck. "Or did you conveniently forget about my mother's passing because you held a grudge against her?"
"That's not fair, Cara." Cooper shook his head. "I'd heard you had a son. I knew Poppy still had some family. I figured I'd find you here at the gas station. I had planned to tell you that I was sorry about your father. And about your mother, too. Although I'll never forgive her. She ruined our lives."
"Ruined our lives? Speak for yourself, Cooper!" A sudden image of Tommy came to me. Yes, my mother had manipulated us. True, my life might be very different and happier if Cooper and I had never parted. But how could I count my life as ruined when I had a wonderful son?
"She did not ruin my life.”
"She sure as heck ruined mine!" he growled. "I lost my football scholarship in Tampa because I couldn't concentrate. My grades hit rock bottom. My mom started drinking again."
"That's not my mother's fault." His mother had always had trouble with alcohol.
"The heck it wasn't! My mother knew I was miserable! It drove me nuts that I couldn't contact you. My mother was broken-hearted when I dropped out of school."
"That was your choice. My mother was broken-hearted when I took up with you!" I couldn't believe I was defending my mother. But I was. Now that I was a mother, I had a keen understanding of guilt—and an equally developed sense of personal responsibility. Cooper's accusations didn't seem fair.
My mother had done all the wrong things, but she'd done them for all the right reasons. I'd come to terms with her fallibility as a parent as I watched her die slowly and painfully. She never asked me for forgiveness. In fact, she'd made a point of saying, "Remember when I'm gone that I did what I did because I loved you. You can disagree, you can fault the outcome, but don't you dare take issue with my intentions."
"Even if my mother made mistakes, and I'm not saying she did, why take that out on Poppy?" I glared at Cooper.
"I'm not taking anything out on Poppy. I'm saving him from himself."
"Really? And you don't stand to make a boatload of money by opening a competing business?"
"Is that what this is about? The money? Is that why you lied to Hal?"
Now I was steaming mad. I whirled on Cooper and shouted, "I never lied to Hal Humberger. That idiot didn't give me the time of day. He never bothered to ask who I was! He shoved those papers at me while he bragged about running Poppy out of business."
"That's not what he told me. He told me that you misled him on purpose. You want to hear the voicemail?" He reached for his phone.
"No, I don't. I don't need to hear it, because I was there, and if that's what he said, it's not true. It's awfully convenient that he's dead, because now I can't defend myself, can I?"
"You can't defend yourself because I have paperwork that proves you misrepresented yourself. You stole that building out from under me. I never thought you'd turn into a liar, Cara."
"Well, I didn't think you'd turn into a creep!"
"I'm a creep? You're the one who tricked Hal!"
"I was protecting my grandfather," I said. "The person you should be blaming is the person who was supposed to meet Hal Humberger and didn't show. Why aren't you yelling at her?"
"Because she's my fiancée, and she was running late after finalizing the arrangements for our wedding!"
25
Fantasies travel at warp speed. In my mind. For a few moments, I imagined that Cooper and I were back together—and nothing would ever break us apart.
Boy, was I ever wrong.
We were spitting mad at each other. Cooper's hands were clenched into fists and mine were, too, when Poppy walked out of the Gas E Bait. Obviously, he'd parked his truck in the back and strolled through the building. I wondered how much of our quarrel my grandfather had heard.
Poppy’s arrival forced Cooper and me to break eye contact. I don't know what I was more upset about, the fact that he'd called me a liar or that he was getting married.
I could just imagine his fiancée. She was probably younger than me. Prettier. She wouldn't have the inevitable wear and tear that came from being a mother. I bet she was a blonde. Tall. Thin. Snooty. Perfectly dressed.
I hated her.
What a creep he was.
Let her have him, I told myself. Good riddance to bad rubbish.
"Good to see you, Cooper," said my grandfather, as he extended his hand for a friendly shake. "So you dropped by to talk with Cara, eh? Isn't it great she's back?"
"Yes." Cooper gripped Poppy's hand and smiled at him. "It sure is, isn't it?"
How could he be so two-faced! After calling me a liar, he was happy to see me? Huh! Oh, and here he'd admitted he wanted to run my grandfather out of business, but he was acting as though they were old friends!
"Cooper was just leaving, Poppy," I said.
"Cara, you need to rethink your position," Cooper scowled at me. His face was tight with tension.
"No," I said, as evenly as I could. "I don't believe I do."
"You don't have all the facts," Cooper said.
"Wrong. I think I know everything I need to know." With that, I turned and walked back into the building.
Engaged? How could he?
I grabbed a scrub brush, threw myself to the floor, and went at the old linoleum with a vengeance. For good measure, I turned around and stuck my butt up in the air, delivering a silent message of contempt. I could hear the male voices outside, but only barely, as the brush skritch-skritch-skritched against flooring.
Work has always been therapy for me. The harder and more physical it is, the better. I could have been perfectly happy living on a farm or a dude ranch. Getting sweaty was better than crying any day.
At least, that's what I told myself.
Even as I spent my fury on the floor, I knew that I was being ridiculous. Cooper Rivers had every right to be engaged. To get married. A nicer person would have wished him well. Would have planned to send a gift. Would have asked to meet Cooper's lovely intended.
But I wasn't that person.
Not today.
I was me, and I was ticked. Instead of considering how to make nice with Cooper and his bride-to-be, I pinched myself really ha
rd to take my mind off his announcement. So what if he was getting married? Until five minutes ago, we'd gone our separate ways, and although I'd thought of him nearly every day of my life, I'd assumed he already was married. I'd written him off. Tucked him away as a sad memory, a "what if" that could never be explored. I'd moved on with my life and so had he.
Then why was I upset? Why was I feeling like my heart had been ground into tiny shards of glass? Why was I finding it impossible to swallow the lump in my throat? Why did I want to throw the scrub brush through the plate glass window of Dick's Gas E Bait?
I needed an affirmation. Something to help me get my head straight.
"Cara, you're ahead of the game," I said out loud. "You don't need Cooper and you've stopped him from hurting your grandfather. You bought Essie's building right out from under him. You go, girl. Mister and Missus Cooper Rivers will have to make a new plan."
I rocked back on my heels and noted my progress, talking to myself the whole time. "Yep, guess what Cooper? You can't have your wedding cake and eat it too, pal! Nothing you can say or do will convince me to bail on this real estate deal."
I was not a quitter. I would not give up that building. The Universe had intervened to snatch The Treasure Chest out of Cooper's grip. I had proof of that. To gain possession of Essie's building, I'd endured a case of mistaken identity, a blank line on a contract, a shouting match with my grandfather, a dead body, two interviews with the police, and the wrath of Cooper. I had single-handedly saved my grandfather from early death.
When I glanced over my shoulder, Poppy and Cooper were still talking. Chatting amiably. At least that's what it looked like.
Why wasn't Poppy angry? He had admitted to me that his work was important to him. He felt strongly that I had been tricked into buying The Treasure Chest. Cooper was the actor behind the scenes, the man who set this farcical play in motion. Why was Poppy acting so chummy with Cooper?
It didn't matter.
Nothing could change the way I now felt about Cooper Rivers.
Kiki Lowenstein Books 1-3 & Cara Mia Delgatto Books 1-3: The Perfect Series for Crafters, Pet Lovers, and Readers Who Like Upbeat Books! Page 73
