Weekend Agreement (9 page)

“I have to agree with Daniel,” Cole said. “I think Professor Doherty looks charming.” He flashed a smile in her direction. One of about a half-dozen he’d flashed in the past ten minutes. Charlotte ducked her head and ran a hand over the back of her neck.

“Well, of course she does,” Vivian said. “I was only thinking of her comfort. What with the wind blowing sand everywhere out there. Really, Daniel, I don’t know what you find so appealing about trolling about the dunes.”

“The beach is beautiful,” Charlotte countered. “I enjoyed the walk.” Why she felt the need to defend Daniel, she didn’t know. The fact that he hadn’t spoken up said he didn’t care about Vivian’s comment, so why should she? Especially when, looking to her right, she saw zero acknowledgment on Daniel’s expression.
Sometimes it’s easier to just acquiesce.
Was that what his silence meant? Or was he regretting the moment they shared? She wished she knew. Her skin still tingled from his touch. Judy would tell her that was a bad sign.

“How lucky Daniel found a friend who shares his obsession,” Vivian said.

“We own about three miles in either direction,” William told her. “Makes for terrific privacy.”

“Except for those people who insist on walking their dogs.”

“Now sweetheart, a few little dogs never hurt anyone.”

“Those aren’t ‘little dogs’,” Vivian told her husband, “They’re midsized at best. Their owners should know enough to respect private property.”

“There’s only one beach route on this side of the island, Mother,” Daniel said. “What would you have them do? Make a large roundabout circle so they don’t step foot on your sand?”

“Yes, they should. Why should they be allowed to leave their dog droppings and refuse on our part of the shoreline?”

“I’ve told you before, Vivian, the Ferncliffs have allowed walkers on the beach since they purchased the property. You don’t want to disrupt tradition, do you?”

“No, of course not,” she said. “I know how important tradition is to our family.” Charlotte noticed how she stressed the word our, the opposite of Daniel, and felt a small pang on his behalf.

“Speaking of the ocean,” Vivian continued, “Cole has a wonderful business idea. Don’t you?”

The blond man shrugged. “Just a thought I had.” He reached for the bottle and poured himself a second glass of wine. “A friend of mine and I had an idea for a more efficient racing sailboat. Something similar to the cat they’re using on the circuit now only narrower, with different sail placement.”

“You designed a boat?” Daniel asked.

Cole shook his head. “More like a design concept.”

“But one with real potential, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Daniel said. “I’m not a sailor or an engineer.”

Vivian waved off the comment. “Cole thinks it could be faster than the current America’s Cup design. Can you imagine a Ferncliff sailboat winning the America’s Cup? As soon as Cole mentioned the idea, I knew he had to talk with you.”

Charlotte could feel his body tense from two feet away. “Is that so?”

“Who else? After all, as I told Cole, these days you have to be careful whom you choose to associate with.”

“Yes,” Daniel said. “You never know who’s out to take advantage of you.”

There was such an edge to his voice, Charlotte stiffened as well. Though she wasn’t a sailor either, and therefore had no idea if Cole’s idea had merit or not, she had a feeling this was not the first business idea Vivian had put to Daniel. She couldn’t help noticing that Cole himself wasn’t doing much to sell the idea. Either he wasn’t as invested in the idea as Vivian made it sound, or he was simply content to sit back and let his mother do the pressing for him. Either way, she felt for Daniel.

The rest of the dinner passed uncomfortably enough. Except for some polite conversation with William regarding the stock market, Daniel continued to remain lost in thought, leaving Charlotte to listen to island gossip and fend off more grins from an increasingly tipsy Cole, who seemed quite determined to win her attention away from Daniel.

He needn’t have bothered. Even silent, there was no forcing Daniel into the background. The air pulsed with his energy. Charlotte found herself aware of every slight movement, every imagined glance in her direction. When he excused himself during dessert—to make a call, he claimed—the room fell flat and lifeless.

After dinner, she declined Cole’s offer to check out the
Lucky Duck
, and instead excused herself to explore the library. William had made mention of some of his ancestors’ whaling diaries, and she was curious. She was passing through the downstairs parlor when she heard the sound of voices coming from near the veranda doorway. It was Vivian and Daniel.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to be a little more supportive of your brother’s efforts,” she heard Vivian whisper harshly. “He’s trying to make something of himself.”

“You mean you’re trying to make something of him, don’t you? He’s not going to build a new America’s Cup boat.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know Cole. He doesn’t even have an official design, for crying out loud. Face it, this is a pipe dream like every other thing you’ve come to me with.”

“This time is going to be different. I plan to stay on him.”

“Right, like you stayed on him all the other times. No way.”

“Dammit, Daniel, he’s family. Family supports one another.”

Charlotte heard a strangled sigh. “Funny how you only play the family card when you need something from me. We both know you would have ignored me completely if Dad hadn’t left the trust in my name. Tell me, would I be family now if I hadn’t become rich and famous? You know what, don’t answer. I’m not in the mood for any more trumped-up affection.”

The veranda door rattled shut, followed by the sound of a frustrated cry and the clapping of espadrilles on tile. Charlotte moved to make herself scarce, but didn’t do so in time. Before she could get three feet, Vivian pulled up short in the doorway.

The women eyed each other. “If you’re looking for Daniel, he went for another one of his beach walks,” Vivian said. Except for the slight breathlessness in her voice, there was no evidence she’d ever been arguing.

Smoothing her hair, the older woman started toward the hallway, only to stop when she saw the book in Charlotte’s hand. “Don’t get too involved in any library readings,” she told her. “I doubt you’ll have the chance to finish. My son seldom keeps the same companion for long. He’s very difficult to please.”

“I don’t know about that,” “Charlotte said, meeting her gaze point for point. “All you need to do is pay attention to what he wants.”

Vivian’s lips curled in a smile. “So you think you figured out the path to Daniel’s heart, have you?”

“What I think is that I’m willing to listen. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make.”

With more boldness than she felt, she swept past Vivian.

…

How could a man be so prickly and yet so charming? Back in her room, she sat on the window seat and flipped through the pages of Judy’s research file. There was Daniel with Valerie Pinochet at a movie premiere. Daniel in the Mediterranean with a Greek tycoon’s daughter. Daniel in New York escorting the latest top cover model, and the next latest, and the next. Dozens of photographs, dozens of women. How did this fit with the lonely man she met tonight on the beach?

My son seldom keeps the same companion for long.
She sighed, thinking of how true those words were. And her…what was she thinking passing snipes with Daniel’s mother like that? Suggesting she knew the way to Daniel’s heart. Suggesting she wanted Daniel’s heart. She didn’t.

As if she could compete anyway. She flipped over another clipping, revealing another gorgeous escort.

Suddenly she realized her cell phone was ringing. “Where have you been, young lady?” Judy snapped. “I’ve been waiting for your phone call all evening.”

“Sorry, Mom, I was busy. Besides, it’s Friday night. Don’t you have something better to do with your life than wait for my phone call?”

“I have no life; I’m living vicariously through you.”

“Well, first, the house is incredible. The Ferncliffs participated in the Asian trade so there are some incredible Oriental pieces that have been the family for years. I think my bed is—”

“Forget the roster of antiques; give me the important details. What’s Danny-boy’s family like?”

“Preppy. Waspy. His mother’s a real piece of work.” Charlotte relayed the details of their introduction.

“Sounds like that’s where Moretti gets his audacity.”

“Apples and oranges, Judy.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Vivian Ferncliff is all about Vivian. She’s only interested in how a situation might affect her.”

“And Moretti isn’t?”

“No, not really.”

“You sound like you’re making excuses for the man.”

“No excuses,” she insisted, thinking of the little boy who didn’t fit in with his new family. “I understand him a little better, that’s all.”

On the other end, Judy groaned. “I like the sound of that even less. Danny-boy hasn’t tried anything, has he?”

“Of course not.”

Not really, anyway. Her fingers went to her lips. What would have happened had Cole not shown up when he did? Would Daniel have kissed her? Hard to believe he’d toss away their agreement for her. Or, thinking of the pile of clippings on her lap, did the money mean less to him than the thrill of sexual conquest? She didn’t know the answer any more than she understood the stirrings going on inside her.

“Maybe we’re judging him too harshly,” she suggested to Judy. “When he drops his defenses, he’s really quite…” She searched for a word that wouldn’t sound over the top. “Charming.”

“Do I need to remind you that literature is strewn with examples of men who ‘charmed’ their victims to destruction? Have you read
Dracula,
for example?”

“I suppose I should be grateful you’ve moved on from animal metaphors,” Charlotte said, rolling her eyes. “Daniel is not some seductive vampire out to get my life’s blood.”

“No, just a playboy used to getting women into his bed.”

“Will you stop it?” Much as she appreciated her friend’s loyalty, the condescending suggestion that she couldn’t take care of herself was getting on her nerves. “All I’m saying is the man is more complicated than he first seems to be.”

“I knew you’d say something like that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a historian. You find subtext in everything.”

“Oh, and literature professors don’t?”

“Apples and oranges,” Judy retorted, tossing Charlotte’s remark back at her. “Admit it, you do have a tendency to romanticize.”

“Romanticize?” Judy made her sound like a moony adolescent. “Why? Because I said that David Moretti might have some depth?”

“If he has depth, it’s because your imagination put it there. You attach meaning to everything. Take that farm of yours, for instance. The whole reason you got into this mess with Moretti is because you’ve built up its significance in your life.”

“Since when is preserving my family heritage a bad thing?”

“Nothing—if preserving your heritage is all you’re trying to do.” Her voice softened. “I’m not trying to pick on you. You keep alive things the rest of the world would discard. It’s what makes you such a good historian and a sweet person. All I’m saying is, make sure what you’re trying to keep alive really existed in the first place.”

Charlotte pursed her lips. “Are we talking about my farm or Daniel?” she asked tersely.

“Both. Have you looked at the research file I gave you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Good. Then, charming or not, you know exactly what kind of shark this guy is.”

“I’m a big girl, Judy. I can judge a person on my own, thank you very much.”

Tired and angry, Charlotte leaned back and looked out the window. Storm clouds would soon move in, but at the moment, the moon bathed the beach in a silvery glow. The ocean, black as night, stretched endlessly before her.

On the other end of the phone, her friend asked, “You’re mad at me now, aren’t you?”

“Shouldn’t I be? You all but called me a romantic fool.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“You did.” Her eyes fell to the file. Was Judy right? Was she seeing depth in places where it didn’t exist?

“Look, in the end it doesn’t matter what kind of depth I see in Daniel Moretti. Come Sunday, we’ll never cross paths again. I’ll go my way, and he’ll go his.”
His lonely solitary way.

“So long as you don’t do something to get yourself hurt.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes again. “Haven’t we been through this enough times?”

“From the sound of your voice, one more time wouldn’t hurt. That file of clippings is big for a reason.”

“True.” Charlotte was only half-paying attention. Outside her window, the moon was carving a shimmery path across the ocean’s black surface. Hard to believe a storm lay close by. Maybe William was right and the hurricane, fearing Vivian’s wrath, changed paths.