On Sunset Beach (31 page)

He closed the door softly and went down the steps and out onto the street.

Don’t know what we’d have done if you hadn’t stepped in to take ’er over …

No pressure there, he thought, and with a sinking heart, he jogged back to the inn, wondering if he was capable of carrying on that legacy—if he could live up to the standard set by old William T—even if he wanted to.

There was, he supposed, only one way to find out. Whether or not he was ready to take that step remained to be seen.

Chapter 20

C
ARLY
awoke on the living room sofa, a light throw over her legs and a crick in her neck. She sat and stretched, yawned, stood, then stretched again. She found her phone and checked the time: 7:39. A trip into the bathroom was followed by a trip into the kitchen, where she made coffee on her newly purchased one-cup-at-a-time machine. She stepped outside onto the patio and found the morning cooler and less humid than she’d expected. The neighborhood was quiet at this hour, the only sound she heard was the pounding of feet as a jogger passed by out front.

She went back inside and fixed her coffee, then into the dining room, where she’d left her work from the night before spread out around the table. After Ford left, she’d tried to focus on the catalog, but finally gave up. He was too much in her head. More troubling, he was inching his way into her heart, and that, she told herself, was a no-no. She’d learned a long time ago to stay away from men who didn’t know who they were. And if ever a man needed to have a stern talk with himself to figure it out, it was Ford
Sinclair. As far as she could see, he was suffering from a major case of denial.

He could protest all he wanted, but it was pretty clear to Carly that he was adapting to his reporter gig much better than he admitted. He seemed more comfortable with each of their meetings, not only with her, but with his role. Maybe he’d never accept that the
St. Dennis Gazette
was a good fit for him, which would be a shame, because he sure didn’t seem comfortable with the role he’d been playing these past few years, but it wasn’t her place to point that out to him since their relationship was so vague and undefined.

Not that she wanted to put a label on it, of course, she reminded herself quickly. And yet last night … last night …

She sighed and took a sip of coffee, which had grown cold while she played back most of the evening in her mind. The glint of approval in his eyes when she opened the door. The sweet way he’d held her hand while they walked to Lola’s. The look on his face when they talked over dinner, as if he listened to every word and cared about what she was saying.

That interest in her—that ability he had to make her feel like what she had to say mattered—was something she’d been missing in her last two relationships. She’d always made a point to care about what other people said and felt and wanted—but she’d rarely found the favor returned when it came time to talk about her goals, her galleries, her wants. Especially with Todd. Todd, who became so enamored of his own success that after a while, he couldn’t talk about anything else. She’d actually been relieved when he told her he’d found someone else. Two years of her
life down the tubes with that one, and she’d been glad to wave good-bye.

Well, that’s how it went with relationships sometimes, she thought. You pay your money and you take your chances, as her grandmother used to say. There just weren’t any guarantees. Carly knew that, but why was it so hard to find the right one? And why had the one who
seemed
like the one turned out to be a dud, and why did you have to invest two years of your life before you realized that he
wasn’t
the one after all?

She was still pondering these weighty matters when Ellie called.

“What are you doing?” Ellie asked.

“Staring at the mess on my dining room table and wondering why it’s so hard for me to toss out all my notes.”

“How ’bout we get together for pancakes?”

“What, you’re making pancakes? Seriously? You’re going to cook?”

“Well, no. Actually, Gabi and I were hoping you were. Cam’s sailing this morning, so we thought it was a good time for a girls’ breakfast.”

Carly laughed. “Sure. Come on over and we’ll christen my frying pan. Bring eggs. Oh, and maple syrup.”

“You got it. See you in fifteen.”

So, there goes the morning, Carly mused, and headed toward the bedroom to change, then back into the kitchen, where she made a second cup of coffee and began to get out the ingredients she needed for pancakes. Despite the fact that her family had always had a cook, she had learned early on that she had a talent for cooking. Ellie—not so much, although her
family also had had the luxury of wealth and a professional cook.

“We’re here, Carly!” Gabi announced from the side door.

“Come on in.” Carly had just finished setting the table for three. “Oh, you brought Dune! Hi, pup!” Carly knelt to pet the little dog, who gleefully danced around her feet.

“We picked up blueberries.” Ellie held up a bag. “And syrup.”

“Thanks. You can put it all right on the counter.” Carly stood.

“Your house is so cute, Carly.” Gabi wandered into the living room. “What’s upstairs?”

“Two rooms and a bath. You can go look, if you’d like,” Carly told her, and the teenager took off up the steps, the dog at her heels.

“I hope you don’t mind that we brought Dune,” Ellie said. “As soon as she heard your name, she went right to the door, wagging her tail. Gabi swears she understood ‘Carly,’ ‘pancakes,’ and ‘girls’ breakfast,’ and she assumed she was included.”

“Of course I don’t mind. If I could, I’d have a dog.”

“Why can’t you have a dog, Carly?” Gabi came back down the steps and into the kitchen.

“Because I don’t have time to take care of one when I’m home. I travel a lot, I’m gone sometimes days at a time.”

“You could leave it with us. We could take care of it when you go away.”

“That would be a pain, driving the dog from Connecticut to St. Dennis every time I had a trip,” Carly told her.

“Oh. I thought this was your house. That you were living here.” Gabi frowned.

“Only till the exhibit is over, honey. Then I’ll go back to my old life.”

“I like this life better,” Gabi said. “I like it when you’re here.”

“I like being here,” Carly admitted.

“I love your little house.” Gabi went to the back door. “Oh, your yard is fenced in. Can Dune and I go out and look around?”

“Of course.”

Gabi opened the door and Dune shot out. “Hey, wait for me …”

“Make sure you clean up after her if she makes a mess,” Ellie called to her sister as the girl ran out after the dog.

“Is there something I can do?” Ellie asked.

“No, I’m good, thanks.” Carly rinsed the berries and set them aside to drain while she made the batter.

“So how’s the book?”

“Done and on its way to being formatted. It actually came together quite nicely.”

“Why do you sound surprised?”

“Because I’ve never written a book before.”

“You’ve been writing about art and artists for years, Car.”

“But not a book. I wanted to do Carolina justice.”

“So do you have a copy of it that I could read?”

“Help yourself. She’s your great-great-grandmother. See what you think. It’s that stack of papers on the left side of the dining room table.”

Ellie left the room and Carly began making pancakes,
pouring the batter into the hot pan and watching for just the right moment to flip them over.

Ellie came into the room holding Ford’s jacket. “Whose jacket is this?”

Carly turned to look. “Oh. That.” She turned back to the frying pan. “That’s Ford’s.”

“Ford was here? Wearing a nice sport jacket?” Ellie grinned. “A nice sport jacket that he apparently then removed?”

“We went to dinner last night.”

“Do tell.” Ellie leaned against the doorway.

“Not much to tell. We went to Lola’s. Have you had their scallops? They’re—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve had the scallops. I don’t care what you ate. I want to know about your date and why you didn’t tell me you were going out with him.”

“I meant to as soon as I had an opportunity.”

Ellie took her phone from her bag and held it up. “Hello? Phone? Text? Email?”

“Okay, I know. I should have called but I’ve been so immersed in trying to get the gallery ready to open. We finally got the HVAC straightened out, and the interior drywalled and painted …”

Ellie wiggled her left hand so Carly could see the ring on her third finger. “Engaged to the contractor, so you can skip all that. Go straight to the good stuff.”

“Oh. The good stuff.” Carly nodded. “That was pretty good.”

“Hold that thought.” Ellie returned the jacket to the dining room and was back in the kitchen in a blink.

“Spill.”

Carly leaned against the counter, spatula in hand.

“Best date I’ve had in … damn, I can’t remember when. The night was beautiful, the restaurant was beautiful, the food was perfect.” She sighed.

“What did you wear?” Ellie leaned forward and rested her arms on the table.

“Only the most perfect dress I ever owned. I got it at Bling on Friday.”

“Vanessa has the most uncanny knack for picking out the most fabulous things, but we digress.” Ellie gestured for Carly to get on with it.

“So we walked down to the Bay after dinner, and we talked. We talked a lot, did I mention it?”

“No, you did not.” Ellie made a face. “I hope that’s not the ‘good stuff’ you were referring to.”

Carly laughed. “Well, it was really nice to talk to a guy who listened, who conversed.”

“That’s important, of course it is, but right now what I’m interested in is what came after all the chatting.”

“Best kisser on the planet. Hands down,” Carly told her solemnly.

“Do tell.”

“I hated to see him leave.”

“Wait, he left?”

“Yes. Things were starting to get a little heated, and I guess we both thought it wasn’t the right time to let them get out of hand.”

“So, will there be a right time?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. I don’t want to get in over my head with him if it’s just the grown-up equivalent of a summer fling. But you know, I’ve had this feeling about him since the first time I met him.”

“How do you think he feels about you?”

“I don’t think he knows what he wants or where he wants to be.” She thought for a moment, then added, “And then there’s me. I travel so much. I have businesses everywhere but here, or so it seems. I’m only in St. Dennis temporarily, remember.”

“On loan, as it were.”

“More or less.”

“I think he’s sort of temporary, too.”

Gabi came through the back door, Dune in hot pursuit. She stared in horror at the stove.

“Are you trying to burn the pancakes?” She pointed to the pan. “ ’Cause if you are …”

“Oh, crap.” Carly turned off the flame. “I forgot.”

She dumped the burned pancakes into the trash and started over.

“Sorry, sweetie. We started talking and I forgot what I was doing.”

“That’s okay. Can I watch your TV?” Gabi asked.

“Sure. I’ll call you when the pancakes are ready, and this time, I promise to pay attention.” Carly made the cross-your-heart sign on her chest.

“Cool.” Gabi headed toward the living room. “Maybe I can catch the last few minutes of
Meet the Press
.”

“Our budding pundit.” Ellie rolled her eyes. “She starts every day with
Morning Joe
and ends it with Jon Stewart.”

“She’s a smart girl. She likes to be well informed.”

Carly added blueberries to the mixture and poured batter into the pan. This time she positioned herself next to the stove.

“Don’t distract me,” she warned Ellie. “I don’t have any more milk.”

“I will say nothing more than this: If you really like
him, and it appears to me that you do, and you feel that he cares about you just as much, you need to decide whether or not to go for it.” When it appeared Carly was about to reply, Ellie held up a hand to stop her. “You’re overthinking things. You need to stop it and go with your gut.”

“What if my gut is wrong?”

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

When Carly didn’t respond, Ellie said, “Everything else—where you live, where he lives—all that stuff can be worked out. That can all change. But how you feel inside—that’s not going to change no matter where you are. So.” Ellie smiled brightly. “Do we get to eat now?”

Chapter 21