Sweet Caroline (19 page)

“Thanks. Also, I wanted to let you know Roland and Dale spent a couple of days down at the Water Festival with their wives. Loved it. They are more interested in Beaufort than ever. Roland’s wife heard Mitch O’Neal at the Café one night, and I think she envisions becoming his best friend or something.”

“Did you tell her he doesn’t live here most of the time?”

He snickers. “No. Listen, Caroline.” His tone sobers. “They saw other properties they liked. There’s a restaurant on Lady’s Island for sale. Needs way less work than the Frogmore. Their business is ten times better. It’s close to the beach, tourists, and retirees with money. Are you get-ting the picture?”

“Grimly, yes.” My heart sinks, dragging with it my chance for freedom.

“I’m sorry, but listen, I’ll keep looking for a buyer. You do the same, okay.”

“Come out, come out, wherever you are. Olly, olly, oxen free.”

Kirk’s laugh is warm. “Don’t get discouraged. The Buzz Boys are still interested. It’s just you have some competition. If they don’t buy now, maybe they will in a year.”

“In the meantime, Kirk, did Jones happen to leave a secret cash stash behind?”

“Sorry, no. Why?”

“We’re broke and the Café repairs couldn’t wait.” I reach for the straightened paper clip that’s always on the desk and twirl it between my fingers.

“You’ll get the money back when you sell.”

“When. I’m more in a
now
need.”

“Hang in there. I think we can close the informal probate by Christmas, bar any unforeseen roadblocks.”

“Christmas?”

“Ninety-nine percent chance, yes. If you still have the Barcelona opportunity, you could be there by January.”

The burden of a few grand over plumbing doesn’t seem so bad now.

“One more thing, Caroline. I was going through some papers, looking at copies of bank statements, and I found Jones’s property insurance policy.”

“Finally, I’m rich. How much?”

“Ha, you’re funny. The Café is currently uninsured.”

I plop my head down to the desktop. “You’re kidding, Kirk.” Jones, you quirky little man. “Why’d he let the insurance lapse?”

“He probably forgot, Caroline. Just call the agent. I’ll overnight the policy to you. Get it renewed quick. You don’t want to be caught with fire or storm damage. Plus, any buyer will want to know you have a cur-rent policy.”

I scribble a note on a yellow sticky and tack it to the computer monitor: PAY INSURANCE. Not that I’d forget.

As I hang up, a loud crash, a resounding thud, and a booming voice seep in from the other side of the wall. Stu is tearing up the bathrooms, telling the pipes what they can do with themselves.

The second meeting of Elle’s Operation Wedding Day is at the Café after closing. From behind the counter, I fill three glasses with soda. “El, did you call Jones’s lawyer, Kirk?”

She scrunches up her nose. “You gave me his number.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually call him.”

“Why not? He’s on the list. I liked his voice. He sounds smart and sexy.”

At this, I laugh. “He looks like a rumpled Ross Geller.”

“Oo, does he whine?”

“Not that I’ve noticed.” I pass around the drinks. “But if you call him again, do not mention me, please.”

“What? I have to mention you. You’re the only thing we have in common.” Elle holds up her manhunt list. More than half the names are scratched off. “Water Festival pretty much took care of the list. I’m down to three names. And I can tell you right now, two of them will be a no go. I’m merely giving them a courtesy date.”

Jess gives her side glance. “Desperate girls can’t be so picky.”

“Speaking of . . . Elle, is your meeting over?” I ask. “I need advice.”

She pounds the handle of a butter knife on the counter. “Temporary pause of Operation Wedding Day discussion to deal with Caroline’s problem. You have the floor, Miss Sweeney.”

“Okay, well . . .” Gee, I’m nervous. I didn’t think this would be so embarrassing. “First of all, Jess, wherever Ray gets his information, he’s dead-on. J. D. is a great kisser.”

Jess flashes her palm for a high five. “You go, C.”

I slap her a light five. Not sure this is a real celebratory moment. “Yeah, well, as you know, kissing leads to other things—”

A bang and clank come from the ladies’ room, where Stu is still working and swearing. Jess and Elle lean back and stare toward the bathroom.

“What’s going on in there?” Jess asks.

“Stu Green, bathroom pipes, old plaster walls.” I point to Elle. “Hey, he’s single. Add him to the list.”

“What? No.” She leans and whispers. “Mean-machine Stu Green?”

In high school, he had a wicked mean streak, which unfortunately influenced my already angry brother.

I tap Elle’s paper. “He’s really nice now, and he’s eligible, fairly hand-some, and I saw him without a shirt. Great abs. Come on, add him to the list.”

“All right, smarty britches, I’ll add him. Even though his potty mouth matches the toilets he fixes.” Elle grunts as she writes
Stu Green
. “But I’m not worried. There’s no way he can spell
renaissance
.”

“Fine, Stu’s on the list. Caroline, back to J. D. What’s up?” Jess props her elbows on the counter and chin in her hands.

“Yeah, well, he wants to stay
ooover
.”

Elle gasps. “What? He said that?”

Jess remains unchanged. “Can’t blame the guy, Caroline. He’s been there, done that, if you know what I mean, and you’re a very sexy, beautiful woman.”

Elle gapes at her. “So what, Jess? How does her beauty give him a free pass to the Caroline show?”

“It doesn’t, El. Bring it down a notch. I’m just not surprised.”

“So, what do I do?” I glance between Elle and Jess, who simultaneously answer.

“Tell him to take a hike.” Elle.

“Go for it.” Jess.

Hearing Jess’s response, Elle launches out into Incredulous-Indignation Land. “Jess, didn’t your mama raise you better? Caroline, no way. You’re willing to give it up for a good kisser?” She huffs. “What happened to the blue-light queen?”

“For crying out loud, El, she’s not fifteen anymore. And my mama raised me just fine.” Jess focuses on me. “You’re a grown woman. This is the twenty-first century. Do what you want.”

“Who cares what century it is? Some things do
not
change with age or time.” Elle shakes the knife at me. “If he wants you that much, why can’t he commit?”

“Ring and a date seem like a lot to ask,” I say. “I’m not sure I want those things from him.”

Fire flares in Elle’s eyes. “Oh, really? Then what’s the point of this discussion? Caroline, giving the most precious part of yourself, a one-time gift that can’t be undone or taken back had better be worth a heck of a lot more than a sleepover.”

Well, there’s a point.

Another crash resounds from the bathroom, and Stu bursts into the dining room, lugging a rust-stained, water-dripping toilet. He stops when he catches us staring.

“Afternoon,
laa-dies
.” He drops the once-white ladies’ throne right in the middle of the dining room. I gasp. Elle and Jess jump against each other.

“Stu, what are you doing?” I run around the counter. “You can’t put that nasty old toilet in the middle of the Café.”

“Don’t worry, Caroline, it’s only temporary.”

“Move it now, Stu. If the health inspector sees this—”

“Health inspector?” He clicks his tongue and winks, holding up crossed fingers. “He and I are like this.”

“Stu, come on, think of my customers.”

“You’re closed, Caroline.”

“Move the toilet.”

“Bossy.” Stu hoists the toilet and carries it out back.

Returning to my place behind the counter, I distract myself by rolling silverware for tomorrow’s business. “So, no sleepover.”

“No. Caroline, respect yourself.” This from Elle. Emphatically.

“I have to admit, she’s right, Caroline. If you’re not sure, wait. Please, don’t let J. D. talk you into something you’ll regret.”

I nod, still unsure. “Right. Right.” Truth is, it’s enticing and alluring to be wanted by someone like J. D. All-out handsome, sexy, built, macho with a little-boy cuteness.

After a moment of silence, Elle pounds the counter again with the end of the knife. “Are we done with Caroline? Good. Back to the meet-ing at hand.”

As she bangs her makeshift gavel, Stu rounds the kitchen corner. I rush to pour him a glass of iced tea. “Tea, Stu?”

“Yeah, Caroline, that’d be great. Hotter than blazes out there.”

“Say, Stu, the girls and I were arguing over a word.” I peek at Elle. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to spell
renaissance
, would you?”

“Renaissance, huh?” He lifts his chin in the air, eyes squinting. Elle snickers, and I hear a pencil scratching. “Great revival of art and literature in Europe, beginning in the fourteenth century, lasting well into the seventeenth. Launched the world into the modern era out of the medieval. R-e-n-a-i-s-s-a-n-c-e.
Renaissance
.”

We all blink at him. He’s looking at us.
Is that all?
I clear my throat. “See, I told you there were two
s
’s, Elle.”

Stu snaps up his jar of tea and heads off to the ladies’ room. “You’d think you’d know that, Elle, being an artist and all.”

“Yeah, you’d think I would.” Elle slowly rewrites
Stu Green
on her list.

“I’m more than a simple plumber, ladies.” Stu spreads his arm with a bow, walking backwards to the bathroom.

When he’s out of sight, I fall against the counter, laughing.

22

O
n a remote part of St. Helena’s, the beach is lit with dozens of sandbag candles. “J. D., how beautiful.” “Thought you’d like it.” His chest is warm against my back as he cradles me in his arms and kisses my cheek. “Beyond the palmettos is the house my great-granddad built. We use it for family events, and Mom comes out here sometimes. Did I tell you she’s trying to become a novelist?”

“Really? What’s she writing?”

“Who knows?” Wrapping his hand around mine, he leads me down the sandy, candlelit path. “She won’t show anyone. Hungry?”

“Starved. Bubba, this is amazing. Your first major romantic date . . . scoring big points here.”

He glances over his shoulder. “My plan is working.”

Smiling, I cuddle his arm, pressing my face against his bulky muscles. “Ah, there’s a plan? We shall see if it’s working.”

Since our hot-and-heavy Christmas-movie night, he’s been respectful and patient. Tonight, though, looking over the romantic beach setting, a fleeting thought of his patience wearing thin breezes through my mind.

At the end of the candles path, a small fire burns. There’s a blanket, a picnic basket, and a boom box playing something soft and classical.

The serenity of the twilight sky and ocean surround us.

“Sit here.” J. D. points to a spot on the blanket with a bow. “How does milady feel about steak and shrimp?”

“Your lady feels wonderful about steak and shrimp.” I shake the sand from my flip-flops before stepping on the blanket.

“How do you like your steak?”

“Medium.” I open the picnic basket to find treasures from the Café. Andy’s apple crumb cake, baked beans, Bubba’s Buttery Biscuits. And a jug of tea. “You sneak, how’d you order this without me knowing?”

He raises his brow. “I have my ways.”

He grills and I set up. As usual, he gets me laughing over some deputy story and I tell him about Mercy Bea finding a critter in the pantry.

“She went screaming through the dining room. Like she’s never seen a rat before.”

I have to admit, it freaked me out too. But not for Mercy Bea to see.

“Don’t tell me, the exterminator comes in the morning.”

“First thing. Darn the cost too.”

Talk is light through dinner. J. D. is fun to hang out with, but when he sets his plate aside and scoots in behind me, wrapping his arms around me, all the dormant passions ignite. I’m not sure how long “no” can linger on my lips. We are very alone here.

His chin rests on my shoulder. “Caroline, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” I twist to see his face. His brown eyes reflect the fire’s flame.

“I was wondering . . .” He plants a warm kiss on my neck.

My heart pumps. Is he going to ask me to decide tonight? Here? Now? “Wondering?”

He smiles, slowly, peering into my eyes. “Let’s move in together. I care about you, Caroline. We’re good together, and I’d like to see if we could make a life of us.”

If my heart wasn’t pumping before, it is now. “Live together? You and me. Like, move in over the weekend or sometime?”

The wind brushes my hair over my face. J. D. smoothes it away.

“Yeah, the weekend or sometime. Look, babe, I understand your hesitancy in letting me stay over. This is just a way to let you know I’m going to be there in the morning. I don’t think we’re ready for marriage, so this is a great compromise. See how we do together, you know?”

Do together? So far, except for sex, we
do
together just fine. Laugh at each other’s jokes, listen to end-of-workday stories.

“I don’t know, J. D.” My stomach cramps a little. Can we go back to just sleeping over?

“Think about it.” He holds my face to kiss me, as if reminding me what awaits if I say yes.

“O-okay, I will.” I whisper to the God I hope exists.
Help
. “Do you love me, J. D.?”

“I’m getting there.”

A soft knock sounds on the door. “Caroline, it’s Stu.”

The plumber pops through the office door and collapses in the chair opposite my desk. He runs his rough, dirty hand through his dark, thick hair so it stands on end.

“Well?” I brace for the blow. The bad news.
Needs more work. Costs
more money
.

“The twa-lette rooms are done.” Stu shakes his head slowly. “I think Houdini installed the plumbing first go-’round.”

“Hard job?” As if I didn’t know. Any closer to his liturgy of four-letter words and I’d have curly hair. I shouldn’t have teased Elle into put- ting him on her list. “What’s the damage?”

Reaching in his hip pocket, Stu pulls out the bill and tosses it to the desk. “It cost a little more than I thought.”