by Tara Cowan
“Marie, how lovely to have you here!” Shannon said, going forward to kiss her cheek, extending her hands.
Marie took them, seeming to squeeze them a little too tightly, and to search her face. “Shannon. You are in great beauty, as always. I have missed you in Charleston.”
“And I you, sweet Cousin.”
Her mother smiled gracefully upon them. “My dear Marie, you are welcome here.” Meeting her eyes, she said, with something like reassurance, “Very welcome.”
Some of the tension seemed to ease from Marie’s shoulders, and she said, “Thank you for having me, Aunt Louisa.”
“I hope you left your mother and father well, my dear,” Mr. Ravenel said, kissing her cheek.
“Yes, Uncle,” she said. “They send their love to all of you.”
The door beneath the stairs opened suddenly from outside, and Frederick strode in, still in his riding wear, of course. “My dear Cousin,” he said, going forward, extending his hands. “I did not mean to slight you. You are early!”
“Yes, indeed,” she said, laughing softly. “But it is of little consequence. I am glad you are home, safe, Frederick.”
“As am I,” he said, and Shannon noticed that he pressed her hands slightly. Marie seemed to search him. “I have a friend staying here,” he said, “but he would not meet you in his sweat, so I showed him the back stairs.”
This caused Marie to flush, for there was little doubt of Frederick’s intentions now. She smiled, some worry in her eyes, and said, “I shall look forward to meeting him at supper.”
“Shannon, why don’t you take Marie up to her room, my dear, so that she may rest and refresh herself before the meal,” Mrs. Ravenel said gracefully.
“Yes, Mother,” she answered, extending her hand to her cousin. “Come, Marie, you look worn to the bone. It must have been a tedious journey, however short,” she said, lacing her arm through her cousin’s and starting up the stairs.
“I have had a great deal on my mind,” Marie said. Her brows drew together when they reached the landing upstairs. “I suppose Mr. Haley is staying in the downstairs chamber,” she said. “Oh, but Shannon, please tell me they have not relegated Frederick to the flanker.”
“I do not know why everyone always speaks of the flanker so distastefully. There are perfectly elegant rooms there. But no, of course they would not embarrass you by putting you in his room. You are to stay in my mother’s, and she is to share Father’s.”
“Oh, Shannon! Move me to one of your elegant flanker rooms. I would not invade your mother’s domain for the world.”
“My dear, the fault is ours, for not remembering that we would have you and Mr. Haley here at the same time. My father would not allow his niece to sleep in a separate building from the rest of us. Now, it is all settled, and no one is put out. Go rest, Marie: you are in the fidgets, and it isn’t like you.”
She pressed her lips together, meeting Shannon’s eyes with her own dark ones. “Very well. Wait for me, before supper. I want to walk down with you.”
“Your wish is my command,” Shannon said, smiling.
Shannon was sitting at her vanity, letting Phoebe put the finishing touches on her hair, which was parted down the middle and caught back smoothly at the base of her head in a large, loose twist, when there was a knock at her door. Marie cracked the door, and Shannon said, “Do come in, Cousin. Phoebe is just finishing with me.”
Marie nodded once and went to open Shannon’s jewelry box. “Your pearls?”
Shannon regarded her cream gown. “Yes, I think so—unless you want them.”
She shook her head, coming forward to clasp them for her.
“Thank you, Phoebe, I shan’t need you until time for bed.”
Phoebe gathered Shannon’s discarded day dress and left, eyes properly averted, saying, “Yes, ma’am.”
Shannon met her cousin’s eyes in the mirror and said, “Something is troubling you, Marie. Tell me.”
Her task finished, Marie walked to the window, steepling her hands and resting her chin on them. Somehow, one could tell she was from two old families by looking at her in profile. She was silent for some time as Shannon watched her. “I have to know, Shannon… Is this what Frederick wants? What he truly wants? I’ll not have a man on sufferance, and I do not want him to be unhappy either.”
Shannon studied her for a long moment, not knowing what to say. “Marie, this match has been planned from your childhood. He has always known that it would be.”
“That concerns me little,” she said. “If he wished, I might release him.”
Shannon lifted her brows. “Do you wish to release him? Marie, you must be certain, and happy in your choice.”
“I am… I do not want to say resigned: that does Frederick a disservice, for truly, he is lovely, and you know how much I love the both of you,” she said. She bit her bottom lip, looking again out the window. “I mean that I will be content.” She met Shannon’s eyes. “I am my father’s only daughter, and he is a very wealthy man. Family means something to him. My marrying Frederick means something to him—it meant something to our grandfather. I wish… I wish to see the happiness and success of this family, and marrying Frederick is not a burden. I believe he means to propose tonight, and I need to know. I do not expect you to tell me that he loves me, or even that he is giddy with happiness. Just tell me if he feels the same, if you think he has a chance at happiness—if we do, I mean, together.”
Shannon rose and went to take her cousin’s hands, feeling a bit overwhelmed by Marie’s nobility, and somehow shamed by it. You are more than this, Shannon. She swallowed around the tightness in her throat, saying, “Yes, I did not know how to say it—but you have done so so very eloquently. Frederick feels precisely the same, my dear cousin, for I had these same fears and asked him, busybody that I am. And I believe, moreover, that he will concern himself very much with your happiness.”
Marie smiled slightly, a little emotionally, and pressed Shannon’s hands tightly. Shannon laughed around her emotion, saying, “What a pair we are! I shall be so delighted to welcome you to our family.” She thought of all the times when they had been little girls playing together, and the seriousness of adulthood, the poignancy of this rite of passage, tumbled down on her.
Marie embraced her for a long moment before saying, “We ought to go down. We mustn’t keep your father waiting.”
Shannon laughed. “No, we must not.”
Shannon sat in the window seat in the long room, underlining sentences in an old volume of Shakespeare, writing a note to ask her father later. She had never yet baffled him with a foreign old word. But in the end, she lay it aside, for she could not concentrate.
Frederick had taken Marie for a walk in the gardens, and the family had gone to bed before they had returned. The two of them had not offered any interesting information at breakfast, though Frederick had taken the chair next to his cousin’s. Her mother had warned her not to pry, which had instantly set up Shannon’s hackles, but she had obeyed, trying not to show her interest, heeding her mother’s advice.
They had gone for a long ride today, and Shannon wasn’t invited, which she always was before. Interestingly, Mr. Haley had not gone with them either. In fact, she had found him, apparently absorbed, reading in the library and had retreated before she could disturb him. That he had looked quite the Southern gentleman she did not mention.
They announced their engagement before dinner, standing together at the massive doorway of the long room, Marie a little flushed. Shannon noticed, inconsequentially, that Frederick wasn’t much taller than his bride, though he was still a bit larger, so that they were proportional. They looked well together, but they were a bit of a mismatch, Marie with her old-world fragility, Frederick with youth and vitality, and handsome in a dashing sort of way. But they were to be husband and wife, and Shannon must remember that.
The thought that Frederick would pay first homage to a young lady other than herself made her unaccountably petulant, though she laughed at herself for it. But no longer could she tell him when Marie had annoyed her, or tell Marie when she wished she could have slapped Frederick. She was the odd cousin out now, as Marie must have felt her whole life, deposed. Her hand squeezed on the arm of her chair, and for a moment, her heart sped unworthily. Could it be that to not be married could be more unpleasant than being married to one of her mother’s choices for her? To have her own wedding, her own groom, her own house in Charleston—that was something. She would not, in any case, be left behind. But she looked around the room, her heart slowing, and saw the faces of her family. She could never be replaced in this family. She was the daughter of Santarella.
Her father had smiled almost instantly at the news, going forward to Marie and kissing her cheek. “This makes me very happy, my dear, my son,” he said, turning to Frederick and shaking his hand.
Frederick smiled, looking down at Marie, saying, “Me, too, Father.”
“Well, shall we host a grand engagement party at Santarella?” Mr. Ravenel said.
“Certainly we shall,” Mrs. Ravenel answered, sitting on one of their antique needlepoint chairs, her skirts pooling elegantly at her feet. Seeing her, Marie seemed to remember her duty. She came forward and charmingly kissed her future mother-in-law’s cheek, saying, “I am very glad to join your family, Aunt.”
Mrs. Ravenel smiled. “And I shall be very happy to hand Ravenel House and Santarella over to the care of a new mistress, when that day comes. I can think of no worthier young lady.”
“I can: you, ma’am,” Marie said. “So we shall pray that day does not come for a long time.” She looked toward Shannon, who got up, coming to her and saying simply, “Dear cousin!”
Marie embraced her, studying her when they pulled apart. Shannon smiled, pressing her hand. “But we have monopolized you: Mr. Haley will want to offer his felicitations.”
He had been standing rather in the background, but at that, he came forward casually, offering his hand to Marie. She lay hers in it. “Certainly, I shall,” he said, in a quiet, friendly manner which seemed to calm Marie’s nerves. Really, for a New Englander, he was such a gentleman, Shannon thought, smiling in a pleased way at him. “I don’t know how you shall put up with Frederick: a year was quite enough for me,” he added.
This caused everyone to laugh, and Frederick to utter a protest, but it severed any tension in the room, and they were all much more comfortable after.
Charleston, South Carolina
Chapter Six
Adeline sanded to her heart’s content. It was therapeutic to her. She pictured these shelves with the same white paint on them as the rest of the built-ins and knew that was the way they were supposed to be. She had even found remnants of paint on the back of one of the doors. “You’re going to be so pretty,” she said distractedly, tongue coming to rest again between her teeth as she worked on a challenging corner.
Her eyes strayed up now and then, behind the desk to the diplomas there. Undergraduate degree in biochemistry, minor in psychology, from Georgia Southern. M.D. at LSU School of Medicine in New Orleans. Residency at the USC hospital in Charleston. It made her wish she’d branched out a little. But she’d loved Chapel Hill, and their Ph.D. program was so stellar. She’d been accepted when a lot of her friends from undergrad hadn’t.
Why didn’t he hang those at his office? Maybe he thought they intimidated his clients. Okay, Adeline, you’re twenty-eight. Get over your little crush and move on with your life. She didn’t even like him personally, which was even more annoying. It was like being infatuated with the football player in high school who was a total jerk to you. He looked more like the polo type, but the metaphor was sound.
She wiped a springy curl back from her forehead and sat back, surveying her work and thinking that she needed to finish it before the crew arrived tomorrow. Thomas didn’t have a deft hand and always over-sanded. She didn’t have the heart to tell him he was bad at it. She went back to it, and she was starting to get hungry by the time she next looked up. It was already noon when she looked at her watch.
She was wondering whether she should go pick something up when she caught sight of a movement by the door. Looking that way, she saw little Jude standing shyly in the archway, his feet crossed at the ankles. She smiled. “Hi, Jude. Have you had lunch?”
He nodded, biting his lip. His big black eyes were full of life, however.
“I’m jealous,” she said. “What did you have?”
“Daddy made fish and ‘sparagus.”
She lifted her brows. “Do you like that?”
He nodded, giggling at the silly question. Poor kid. Wouldn’t know a chicken nugget if he saw one. “How old are you, Jude?” she asked in a friendly manner.
“Six.”
He looked a little smaller, though his eyes looked older. “Wow, first grade?” she asked, thinking it was better to over-class him than under.
“Kindergarten,” he said, confirming her suspicions. “Jus’ for ‘nother month.”
“Practically an upperclassman,” she agreed. She noticed, for the first time, a long scar running from the top of his neck and disappearing down into his shirt. A nasty wound for such a little boy. The front door opened, and Adeline saw through the doorway Dr. Ravenel come in, carrying the mail.
He frowned, seeing his son. “Jude, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be taking a nap.”
“I did,” he said, craning his neck to look up. “Short one.”
Dr. Ravenel put his hand on his head, not precisely a loving gesture, but rather, as though he were preventing him from running off. He sent Adeline a narrowed look. She held up her hands. He pressed his lips together, looking from Jude back to her. She realized, suddenly, from the tightness of his mouth, that he didn’t want her near him. Having always been perfectly respectable, she was shocked for a moment. But then again, she thought, shoulders relaxing, he was probably just over-protective. That would certainly explain his searching questions about her crew. And she hadn’t known him long enough to be offended by his lack of trust. Or rather, that was what she told herself. The sting was just now slowly fading.
She turned back to her sanding. She felt his eyes upon her in the doorway, almost as though he were hesitating. Finally, he said, “Come on, Jude. Let’s let Ms. Miller work.”
“Can I have some ice cream?” she heard him ask as he skipped away at his father’s side.
“I think I have some vanilla,” he said.
Her stomach rumbled. Yes, she needed to get her keys.
The next day was spent in its entirety explaining the schedule of work to the crew, who had arrived fresh from the job they had finished in Charlotte. The commission should be checking into her bank account soon, which was good since she lived job to job, with no paycheck between. The architect she always worked with had flown down for the day to discuss the porch with them, and three hours were spent out there with his drawings and a tape measure.
Her loose white linen sleeveless top was practically soaked when they finally came in. Note to self: do not wear white in South Carolina again.
That finished, she put the two indoor guys onto pulling wallpaper from the dining room, watching carefully for the color that would materialize beneath it when they got down to it. Unfortunately, it was a 1980s pink, so she pulled out her scraper and carefully flicked up that layer and then another, which seemed to be a weird yellow. She hesitated at a green, thinking it could be the original color. It wasn’t terribly off. She didn’t want to harm it, but some instinct told her to go further. She flicked it up and found beneath it a soft yellow, just like butter, and her heart sang. That felt right.
“Jake?” she said.
“Yeah,” he said, leaving what he was doing and coming to her. He was only thirty or so
, but he looked much older. She had a feeling he had probably lived pretty hard.
“Can you get me a three-foot square down to this yellow?”
He whistled, running his hand over what she’d uncovered with a carpenter’s appreciation. “Think we can match it?”
“I’m going to match it if it kills us. Okay, I’ll leave you to that.”
She went down the hall, thinking to work on her bookshelves some more but deciding to go have a look at how they were coming along on the balcony. Joe, the foreman, was yelling some remonstrance down to Thomas and Jose. She winced, her teeth together, and stepped back in the house. Probably better to let them work it out.
She didn’t know the crew intimately—they were usually all business and didn’t discuss personal lives very much—but she did know after two years that construction workers argued like middle schoolers.
It was about four o’clock when her phone rang. Adeline looked down and saw a number she didn’t know. She answered, thinking it could be one of her suppliers. “Hello? This is Adeline.”
“Hey, Adeline, this is Harris Ravenel.”
“Oh, hi!” she said, glad, and surprised, that he had actually returned her call. “Hope you found something good.”
