Lessons of a Lowcountry Summer (14 page)

 

 

H
ope filled
a large plastic rectangular container with two-dozen sliced shortcakes, topped them with dollops of whipped cream, then strawberries with their juice. She placed the matching shortcake halves on top, covered the container, and placed it on a shelf in the refrigerator.

Glancing at her watch, she noted she had half an hour to spare. It was enough time to take another shower and change her clothes.

She was looking forward to sharing dinner with Theo and his family. Her initial impression of him had changed dramatically after their dinner at The Fish Net. She'd found him relaxed, and at times he'd exhibited a wicked sense of humor. His interaction with Noelle was attentive and gentle, and there was no doubting his deep affection for his sister.

I like him.
Hope smiled as she undressed and covered her hair with a plastic cap. She was still smiling as she stepped into the shower stall and closed the door.

 

Theo pulled into the driveway
and shifted into Park behind a midsize car with New York plates. Opening the door to the SUV, he stepped out, leaving the engine running to keep the vehicle cool. The eighty-five-degree early-morning temperature had climbed steadily, reaching ninety-four by two o'clock. Sand grated under his rubber soles as he mounted the porch to the gleaming white house shaded by palm and palmetto trees.

Hope's house was much smaller than the one where he was spending the summer, yet it had a charming quality missing in Jeff's vacation home. Peering through the screen on the door, he pulled the cord attached to the clapper of a cowbell. He smiled. The bell was quaint and functional.

“Come in, the door's unlatched.” Hope's voice came from somewhere inside.

Theo pushed open the screen door and stepped into a small space leading into a living room. White sheers swayed in the ocean breeze coming through the screen-covered windows. An overstuffed sofa in chartreuse complemented two facing wing chairs with matching footstools that were covered in a sunny yellow-and-green floral chintz print. Beyond the living room was a dining room with a long rectangular table seating eight. The table and chairs were made of mahogany.

“Good afternoon, Theo.”

The sound of Hope's voice caught Theo's attention, and he turned slowly. “Good afternoon.”

Hope wore a sand-beige linen tank dress that flared out around her calves. A pair of mules in the same fabric matched the dress. Instead of her usual ponytail hairdo, she had pulled her hair off her face and secured it in a chignon on the nape of her neck.

“I'll be with you in a minute. I have to get the dessert from the refrigerator.”

Theo followed her. “You didn't have to bring anything.”

“I was raised never to come to someone's house empty-handed. Maybe it is not the norm in California, but it's a Southern thing,” she added.

He frowned, his eyes level under drawn brows. “What makes you think I don't have Southern roots?”

“Do you?”

He took two long strides, bringing them only inches apart. His dark eyes moved slowly over her face. “What do you think?”

Hope found it hard to draw a normal breath with him so close. She felt the whisper of his breath over her forehead, the heat from his body, and the sensual scent of his cologne. He looked good, smelled wonderful, and there was no doubt he was
all
male. He was dressed in white again—this time white linen shorts and shirt. The darker color of his upper body was clearly visible through the finely woven fabric of the shirt. He had replaced his sandals with a pair of white deck shoes. There was a subtle virility about Theo that radiated from him like a powerful beam of light coming from a lighthouse.

“I don't know, Theo. You tell me.”

He nodded, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I do.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Where?”

“Beaufort and Edisto Island, South Carolina.”

Her smile was dazzling. “Don't tell me you have some Gullah blood flowing through your veins.”

“Some.” His smile was mysterious.

“How did a Gullah end up in La-La Land?”

Winking at her, he said, “I'll tell you later.”

Hope opened the refrigerator door and took out the container with the strawberry shortcakes. Theo took it from her.

“What's in here?”

“Homemade strawberry shortcake, compliments of my grandmother's recipe.”

“Hot damn! You made my favorite.” Curving an arm around Hope's waist, he lowered his head and kissed her forehead.

There was nothing sexual in his kiss or embrace, but that did not stop her body from reacting. Her breathing quickened.

“We'd better get going, because it's too hot to leave it out for very long.”

Theo dropped his arm, unable to believe he had been so impulsive as to hug and kiss Hope. After he'd done it, he realized he wanted to do more.

Theo waited for Hope to lock the front door, then he escorted her to the Lexus, helping her up onto the passenger seat before he placed the plastic container in the cargo area. He maneuvered up the hill and drove around to the side of his house, parking under the carport.

Theo cut off the engine, then turned his head slowly to meet Hope's light brown eyes. There was something about her eyes that reminded him of a cat's-eye marble. “Are you ready to meet the Andersons?”

Her lush mouth softened as she smiled. “Of course.”

She did not have to wait long, because a younger version of Theo opened the passenger side door for her, his large, dark eyes filled with curiosity. Seconds later, another young man appeared, looking enough like Theo to have been his clone.

“I'm Brandon,” said the first one, extending his right hand to help her down.

Her shoes touched sand-littered concrete. “Thank you, Brandon. I'm Hope Sutton.”

“Theo told us you were coming for dinner. He also warned us if we were not on our best behavior he would jack us up.” His voice was low, as if he were telling her a secret.

Hope's jaw dropped slightly. “Jack you up how?”

“Don't know, don't want to find out,” Brandon's brother said.

Theo rounded the Lexus, cradling the container with the shortcake to his chest. “Let's go inside where we can be introduced properly.”

Hope rolled her eyes at Theo. Didn't he know threats and intimidation never worked with children, especially teenagers? Flanked by Brandon and his brother, she followed Theo into a rear door that led to an air-cooled modern kitchen. A petite woman with stylishly cut silver hair and sparkling blue eyes looked up from her task of shredding lettuce and flashed a friendly smile.

“Welcome.”

Hope returned her smile. “Thank you.”

Theo handed Noelle the container. “Please put this in the refrigerator.”

“What is it?”

“Strawberry shortcake.”

Noelle stared at Hope. “Did you make it, Miss Hope?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Cool.”

Theo dropped an arm over his brothers' shoulders. “Hope, I'd like for you to meet my brothers. Christian and Brandon, Miss Hope Sutton.”

She inclined her head. “It's nice meeting you.”

“Everybody calls me Chris.”

Hope noticed that Theo had tightened his grip on Christian. “Then Chris it is.” She smiled at Brandon. “How about you? Do you wish to be called something else?”

Shyly, he dropped his head. “No. Brandon's okay.”

Theo removed his arms and walked over to Helen. “Helen Bryant, housekeeper, peacemaker, and all-around saint. Helen, my friend, Hope Sutton.”

Helen wiped her hands on a towel, extending the right one. “My pleasure, Hope.”

Hope shook her proffered hand, noticing that the intense summer sun had not been kind to the woman's fair skin. The tip of her nose was a bright pink.

“Same here, Miss Helen.”

The housekeeper's face flushed. “The Miss Helen is for the kids,” she whispered.

“Can I help you with anything?”

Helen waved a hand. “No. You're a guest. The next time you come you won't be a guest. Then you can help me—that is, only if you want to,” she added, meeting Theo's incredulous glare.

Shaking his head, he cupped Hope's elbow. “Come sit and relax. As soon as the meat and fish are done, we'll eat.”

She followed him out of the kitchen to the rear of the house. An expansive outdoor patio with Adirondack chairs shaded by large white umbrellas faced the ocean. Four rotisserie chickens turning slowly on a commercial cart grill made her mouth water. The only thing she'd had all morning was a cup of tea.

Theo pulled out a chair at a large round table with seating for six. She sat down. A pale-blue-flower-sprigged tablecloth, with a hole cut in the middle to accommodate the pole for the overhead umbrella, matched the stack of white plates with a narrow blue trim. Beside it, a wicker basket was filled with cloth napkins and silverware.

He hunkered down beside the chair, smiling. “How hungry are you?”

Hope met his gaze. “Very.”

“Good. I was hoping you brought your appetite, because Helen was up before dawn cooking. She believes she's feeding a small army.”

“Cooking for three teenagers
is
a small army.”

“Amen to that,” he whispered. “Is there anything you don't eat?”

“I'm off red meat for the summer.”

Theo angled his head, his eyes narrowing. “Are you all right?”

Her expression stilled and grew serious. “Yes.” The look on Theo's face said he did not believe her. “If I eat red meat, then it must be organic.”

His smile was dazzling. “You're in luck. Helen only buys organic meats, fruits, and vegetables. She says foods with additives and preservatives play havoc with her hormone levels.”

Hope wanted to tell Theo that she and his housekeeper had something in common. Averting her gaze, she stared at the beach. “The view of the ocean from this point on the island is spectacular.” Less than a quarter of a mile away was the proposed site for Palmetto Haven, a private gated community for the wealthy.

Theo straightened. Hope had changed the subject. If she was sick, then he wondered how sick? Had she come to McKinnon to reconnect with her roots before…? His thoughts trailed off. He did not want to think of her dying.

“I'll be right back with something for you to nibble on.”

Theo retreated to the house, and a minute later Brandon arrived with a platter of deviled eggs and stuffed grape leaves in one hand and a bowl of shrimp and avocado seviche in the other. Noelle followed with a bowl of crispy tortilla chips and bite-size parmesan-dusted meatballs.

“I helped Theo make the meatballs,” she announced proudly. Noelle speared a meatball with a toothpick, put it on a small plate, and handed it to Hope.

She took a bite, her eyes widening in surprise. “It's delicious.” It had a Mediterranean flavor. After the second bite, the meatball was gone.

“Theo said the recipe comes from Greece.”

“I take it your brother cooks very well.”

Noelle sat down next to Hope. “He cooks better than Miss Helen,” she whispered. “Please don't tell her I said that.”

Hope became her coconspirator when she said, “I won't.”

“What are you two whispering about?”

Theo had come up on them without making a sound. “I was just telling Noelle how much I like the meatballs.” Hope hadn't lied, but it wasn't totally the truth either.

“She did most of the work. All I did was measure the ingredients.” He placed two pitchers filled with icy concoctions on the table.

“Which one is for the kids?” Noelle asked.

Theo pulled her braids. “They're both for the kids. The grown-folk drinks are inside.”

Brandon and Christian came out of the house, carrying a large pot and a pan of marinated meat. The pot went on one of grill's two range-top burners, the pan of meat on a side table. Helen finally put in her appearance, carrying a large wooden bowl filled with salad. The activity increased until the table literally groaned with food.

Christian assumed the responsibility of manning the grill, while Brandon acted as waiter, bringing platters of cooked and steamed dishes to the table. Hope sampled a butter toasted frankfurter roll filled with lobster salad and topped with fresh chopped chives, steamed clams in a savory leek butter, and shoestring fries dusted with kosher salt. She ate sparingly, saving room for the grilled chicken, filet mignon medallions, and the salad made with an assortment of field greens and marinated vegetables.