by C J Marie
He glanced at her sharply. “I don’t want to use that name, but I can’t leave you to do this alone.”
“I’m sure Mama wasn’t thinking about your... um, Mr. Whitney when she did it.”
Arnold clapped him on the shoulder. “Yeah, Rafe—just a slip.”
Olive swallowed embarrassment for her mother’s supposed slip—though in truth Olive wasn’t so certain it was unintentional. She squeezed Rafe’s hand reassuringly, before glancing at the smiley groundskeeper. “You must think this is ridiculous, don’t you, Arnie?” Olive whispered, heat staining her neck and cheeks again.
Arnold’s gaze softened. “Nah, Miss Olive, there are no thoughts of the kind in my old brain. Don’t you worry, your parents asked us to keep our mouths shut—that includes that cousin of yours. If you don’t mind me saying, this has nothing to do with you, or Rafe, here. This falls on that sorry excuse for a man who couldn’t see what he was standing to lose. Glad you kicked him to the curb—I hate to say it, but this wasn’t his first time stepping out. People talk.”
Tears burned behind her eyes, threatening to smear her newly applied makeup. She was such a fool. Rafe tightened his hold on her hand. Olive didn’t trust her voice and offered a soft nod instead. Arnold took hold of the brass knob and grinned when her mother’s loud voice announced Mr. Rafe Whitney and Olive Jane. “Well, kids the floor is yours.”
Olive was overwhelmed with applause and raised glasses when they entered the room. All the signs with Tom’s name had been stripped and hopefully burned. Plump men filled the room who chuckled heartily, some shaking Rafe’s hand. Women with delicate sun hats, and designer handbags swooned at Rafe’s broad shoulders and strong jaw, while pecking Olive on the cheek.
“Oh, Ollie!” A squeal drew Olive’s attention across the ocean of people. Twiggy arms flung around her neck and breathy snickers echoed in her ear. “I’m so happy for you and your… engagement.”
“Dot,” Olive gasped. “What are you doing here?”
Dorothy-Ann wasn’t expected until the bridal shower. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss anything to do with your nuptials, girl.” She covered her plump lips, trying to smother a chuckle before allowing Rafe to shake her hand. “And Rafe…” snicker “so good to see you too.”
Olive grumbled and tugged Dot toward the back of the crowd. Now, Rafe seemed nervous to be left alone, but he was quickly swallowed up by a few men who were enraptured at the car business in New Orleans.
“I wish I could snag men as fast as you, Ollie.”
“Oh, hush, Dorothy-Ann.”
“Don’t fly off the handle, I’m just teasing you.”
Olive scrubbed her face as Dot sipped her champagne and tucked her red hair behind one ear. “It’s Mama’s idea, Dot. Tom—the snake—stepped out this morning. I called off everything.”
Dot gasped dramatically. “Oh, my. You poor thing. Well, good riddance, that’s what I say. No worries, Ollie, your secret is safe with me. Besides, your mama could pick a lot worse than Rafe Whitfield—I mean, Whitney.” She snorted in her glass when Olive pinched her arm. “He sure has grown up, hasn’t he?”
“You’ve been in Raleigh too long,” Olive teased, slowly inching back into the crowd. She greeted a few women and accepted their congratulations.
Dorothy-Ann had moved up north when they were sixteen, but Olive still considered her a best friend. Of course she’d recognize Rafe. Dot wouldn’t spill the truth though. She wouldn’t—Olive might get teased, but she could trust Dot. Well, she hoped.
Dot nodded. “I have, but I’m back for three whole months. I’m staying at the beach house.” She gasped again. “Oh, Ollie. I have the best idea. You and Rafe should come out with Sawyer and me. It will add to the story.”
“Sawyer is in town?”
Dot nodded. “On the weekends he comes to see me. Oh, say you’ll come out with us. He’s going to propose—I know it. I want you to get to know him.”
Olive winced. She didn’t want to think of engagements. Sawyer probably wouldn’t cheat on Dot. She wouldn’t be forced to pretend she was engaged to save her family’s face. But like the dutiful friend, Olive grinned and nodded. “Of course.”
Olive sucked in a breath when a calloused, warm hand threaded in her fingers. Rafe eyed her with a frenzied look. “There you are,” he said through his teeth, telling her with his grip and eyes she wasn’t allowed to leave him alone with the sharks again. “Your parents are waiting.”
“I’ll see you later, Olive,” Dot gushed. “Bye, Rafe.”
Rafe dipped his head and glanced at Olive.
“She promised she wouldn’t speak a word,” Olive whispered, moving toward the front of the room.
Her mother was all smiles and politeness. No one would discover the truth, not with Bernadette at the helm. She could plot with the best of them, and when she wanted to defend her family’s good name, Olive was sure there were no lengths her mother wouldn’t go. Her father stood at her mother’s side; his dark eyes shadowed by the terse expression on his face. He seemed to care for this arrangement as much as Olive.
“Daddy,” Olive said, hugging her father quickly.
Lon Cutler was tall, broad, and intimidating to business rivals. He patted Olive’s cheek, revealing the softer side for his only child. “Olive, you look lovely.”
“Thank you.”
Her father grinned, glancing toward Rafe. Bernadette hadn’t reveled in watching her daughter tussle about with the Whitfield twins as a girl, but it wasn’t a secret her father got on well with both August and Rafe. They’d been almost like sons he’d never had. Although, in this moment there was a clear warning in his eye when he shook Rafe’s hand. “Glad I can trust my daughter to a man who will respect our family values.”
“Yes, sir,” Rafe said quickly.
“Alright then.” Her father nodded and turned to the crowd. “Thank, y’all for coming. Let’s raise our glasses to my daughter and the man at her side.”
Olive swallowed the knot that felt more like nails scratching her throat and accepted a champagne glass from her mother. The muggy room beamed with congratulatory smiles. Everyone lifted their glasses to the future Mr. and Mrs. Whitney. A sham. A farce. A lie that had trouble written all over it.
11 years ago
Olive dipped her toe into the rippled water and squealed. “It’s cold as ice!”
August snickered and dove into the white-capped wave. Every year the two Whitfield boys seemed less like twins. August had brown eyes with a weak chin and sandy hair. Rafe allowed his dark hair to wing over his ears much to his mother’s chagrin. His blue eyes matched the summer sky, he still looked like a skeleton, while August was starting to form definition along his arms and shoulders.
“Come on, princess. You said you wanted to swim. Now, let’s swim,” Rafe commanded.
Olive glanced over her shoulder where Beau, Tommy, and Nick hung back, sipping colas and laughing. They didn’t think she’d get in the water—it was the only reason her stupid cousin wasn’t picking a fight with August and Rafe. Beau could be such a snob.
“Swimming shouldn’t include freezing my tush off.”
“Fine,” Rafe grumbled, his voice squeaking when he turned back toward his brother. “I’m going to swim. You can stay nice and cozy on the shore.”
“I knew you were chicken, Olive,” Beau shouted, drawing a few grim chuckles from Nick and Tommy. “Don’t worry I wouldn’t go in the water with them boys either.”
Rafe glared at Beau, but his gaze softened when he looked back at Olive. “You gonna let him talk to you like that, Ol?”
She huffed, slipping off her glittering blue sandals. Olive’s skin raised in tiny goosepimples when she stripped off her white swimsuit cover. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at Rafe who waited patiently in the waist deep water. With a shudder she ignored the taunts at her backside that she was just a little girl and waded up to her knees. The current tugged her around the deeper she went. After a few breathless strides, Olive froze.
“It’s so strong, Rafe. I’m going to fall over. I’m going back.”
Rafe trudged back toward the shallow water, and held out his hand, smiling. “Come on, you big baby. Aug and I will teach you how to swim with the pull. Hold on to my hand and I’ll make sure you don’t make a fool out of yourself.”
“Promise,” she whimpered.
Rafe winked. “Promise.”
Chapter 3
Olive held onto Rafe’s hand because she felt like she was about to topple over. Gregory Till was a pompous man who smelled like stale coffee beans and old cigarette butts. No matter how chilly the air became, the man was in a constant sweat. Rafe stood politely by Olive as Mr. Till grilled him about his background.
“I had no idea there was such a market for car parts,” he said.
Rafe nodded, holding a champagne glass, but Olive had yet to see him take a drink. It was sweet how Rafe tried to hide his nerves. She’d started noticing all his telltale signs of anxiety. Rafe tapped the side of his glass. He shifted weight on his feet every twenty seconds, and the strong muscles in his jaw pulsed like a drum when he wasn’t talking. Well, serves him right. Olive smothered a grin after she remembered she’d agreed to this arrangement to help Millie Whitfield. Lost pride was worth helping Millie who didn’t deserve the cards she’d been dealt.
Rafe cleared his throat, seeming stuck on how to respond. Olive squeezed his fingers and stepped forward. She’d take the wheel for now. “If you have the right business sense, you can make anything profitable, Mr. Till. Don’t let Rafe fool you, he’s not just the brains behind the business, he knows how to fix all those cars too. And, not to boast on this guy, but he has a real talent in design. I still encourage him to get his engineering degree.”
Mr. Till’s eyes widened. “Why, seems like the Cutlers hit the jackpot in you, Mr. Whitney. What kept you from furthering your education, like Miss Olive says?”
Rafe cleared his throat and shot Olive a fierce side glance only she would recognize. “I suppose other things in life took precedence, sir. Sometimes, my Ollie forgets the hard work involved in supporting a family and going to school would take away certain luxuries. You see, she likes to shop.”
He was going to get it. Olive hoped she scorched Rafe’s flesh with her scathing glare, although Gregory Till found the comment wildly hilarious. He even slapped his knees, his face shading a wretched puce color. “Well, son, I don’t expect that will be changing any time soon. And when the little ones come, it will only get worse. I nearly had to take a second job when my wife started shopping at baby boutiques.”
“Oh, I plan to contribute to the finances as well, Mr. Till,” Olive interjected. She thought Rafe grinned a little, but Mr. Till lifted a brow.
“Is that so? How you planning to do that?”
“Well, I’m nearly finished with my teaching degree, elementary school, you see. There’s something sweet about the little faces—”
“That will be a wonderful hobby, Miss Olive,” Mr. Till interrupted. “Until the family comes, but I suspect long term it might be better for your husband to get the education if he chooses.”
“Olive can work if she’d like,” Rafe said. “She’s a great teacher.”
“I see.” Mr. Till mumbled, taking a long gulp of his drink. “Well, keep up the good work, you two. I think we can expect great things from this pair.”
Rafe tipped his glass, bidding the man farewell. There were a few extra pulses in his jaw as Olive stood stunned for a long pause.
“A hobby?” she rasped.
“Let it go, Ollie, what does he know?” Rafe whispered, his arm slipping around her waist so he could get closer to her ear. Olive didn’t want to admit it, but she found a degree of pleasure with his hand on her hip. “What are you doing bringing up engineering, Ol?”
She eyed him long enough that Rafe tilted his head curiously. “Because it’s a good dream, Rafe, and you’re good at it.”
“Ollie, you know that ship has sailed, alright. I’ve got a job I enjoy and I’ve got my mom to think about.”
She pursed her lips and folded her arms over her chest. “You sell yourself short, Rafe. Millie wouldn’t want you to not do something because of her, you know that.”
“I do not sell myself short, princess,” he whispered. “I’m realistic. Maybe you’re the one who has a problem with what I really do.”
Her expression twisted into a furious snarl. “I beg your pardon. When have I ever let on that what you do is something to have a problem over?”
“Never,” Rafe admitted. “Until you brought up engineering. I’m happy where I am, Ol.”
“Fine, Rafe. For heaven’s sake, I was just saying I think you’re good at something. Remind me never to compliment you again.”
Rafe chuckled and shook his head as his thumb drummed across his glass. “Cool down, or I won’t let you keep your teaching hobby.” Olive couldn’t hold back and pinched his bicep drawing a throaty laugh from Rafe. “Don’t start.”
Rolling her eyes, Olive drifted back to the comfortable silence next to Rafe. Sometimes she tried to pretend most people acquainted with her family didn’t expect her to be the dutiful wife someday. According to the plans set out for her life, Olive would be pampered with her future husband’s allowances, attend luncheons at the country club, perhaps host a book club, play tennis, and raise any future offspring to start the cycle again. Mama hadn’t encouraged college, Daddy hadn’t cared either way, but Olive adored her students she’d gotten to know during student teaching. Three more months and she’d graduate. The elementary school in town had already offered her a position in the first grade. No, it wasn’t a career that would lead to a huge financial contribution, but Olive felt as if she made a difference.
Like a sledgehammer, Olive was struck with the realization that Tom had believed the same as Mr. Till. She felt even more foolish. How many times had she brushed his snarky comments about her college attendance under the rug?
Perhaps Tom’s philandering was a blessing in disguise.
“Hey, Ollie,” Beau’s smooth voice broke through the hub-bub of the room. Olive grinned and allowed Beau to press a quick kiss on her cheek. “Congratulations.”
No, she didn’t miss her cousin’s sharp glare at Rafe.
“Thanks, Beau.”
Beau leaned in, his voice low and husky. “Ollie, talk to Tom. He’s torn up over what happened. He won’t step out again.”
Rafe nudged Beau’s shoulder, and Olive placated the mounting tension with a calming palm on Rafe’s arm. “He should have thought of that before messing around the first time,” Rafe retorted, his voice dark and dangerous.
Beau shook his head, staring toward the old grandfather clock against the wall. “Maybe it’s because he’s my friend, but you’ve known Tom since we were kids too, Ollie. He cares about you something fierce.”
“It’s over, Beau,” Olive insisted.
Beau sniffed, brushing his midnight hair off his forehead. “Fine, but I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Ollie. Making sure you’re… safe and all that.”
Rafe’s skin shaded red, but Olive stepped in. “You two knock it off. Beau, leave Rafe be, he’s doing me a favor.”
“Alright,” Beau said, lifting his hands in surrender. “I’ll keep my opinions about this whole thing to myself.” Olive’s stomach plummeted to her toes when Beau winked and dinged his spoon against his glass. “Hey, everybody. I propose we hear a story. Yeah, how about we hear how Rafe here popped the question?”
The women in the room found the idea enchanting and swarms moved in to hear the tale. Most of the men politely chuckled, but went back to their business talk. Olive’s cheeks were hot enough she could fry an egg. Dot was beaming near the winding staircase, but her eyes gleamed with expectation for the biggest fish story of all time.
Rafe was her opposite. His sun-kissed skin was pallid and clammy. He glanced at Olive, but her smile never faltered. She even winked. Maybe she should have a little fun
with Rafe. Yes, this was for Millie, but it didn’t mean she appreciated his part in the plan.
“Oh, I’ll tell the story,” Olive grinned. Beau seemed disappointed. “It’s so sweet, all you ladies will be swooning, but I warn you—he’s mine.”
The women chuckled, and Rafe tugged on her elbow. “Maybe I should tell the story—it’s nothing too special.”
“Come on, baby,” Olive exaggerated, smacking his chest playfully. “You’re so modest. Don’t worry, none of the men will make fun of you. Every woman loves a sensitive guy, right ladies?”
Rafe scowled when more women giggled.
“Go on then, tell us, Ollie,” Dot cried.
“Well, we’d been seeing each other long distance. Oh, how my heart ached for my man when he was out in Louisiana,” Olive sighed. Yes, she placed the back of her hand on her forehead to drive the dramatics home. “I wasn’t expecting him to visit for another two weeks, but this guy, oh, he knows how to surprise a woman. I was just getting to class. I was surprised at first, you know, because all the kids were out in the hallway in a perfect line. I thought to myself, now what are all these kiddos doing here so early? Ladies, when I walked in the room there were tiny hearts dangling from the doorway, hand cut, out of construction paper. He even used glitter.”
“Now, you’re going a little off the rails, sweetie,” Rafe said with a smile. “What, Ollie means is, the kids cut out hearts. I work with mechanics and cars all day; you think it’s realistic I’d think of making glitter hearts?”
The guests in the room, including more interested men, laughed.
Olive wasn’t shaken. She patted Rafe’s cheek, earning a raised brow and coy grin from the man. “Now, don’t be shy, love. It was perfectly sweet.”
“Well, then what?” Dot snorted, her smile permanently pasted on her face.
Olive raised her hands. “I walk into the room, staring at those sweet faces and say, ‘what do you think y’all are doing here so early and with all these hearts? It’s not Valentine’s Day is it?’ That earned a few giggles. Next thing I see, there’s a trail of rose petals. All kinds, pink, yellow, white, red—y’all know I can’t decide what color I like best.”
