Fifteen
Monday morning and Sophie Saunders sat alone at her kitchen table. She ate a piece of birthday cake for breakfast. Red velvet was her favorite. She liked breaking the breakfast rules. No eggs, no cereal, no fresh fruit, only dessert. Sugar was her new wake-up call.
She’d never look at cream cheese icing in quite the same way. It was pure decadence, so thick, sweet, and smooth. She’d enjoyed licking the icing off Dune’s inner thigh. He’d reciprocated and tasted her twice. She now had a frosting fetish.
It had been the best weekend of her life, both fun and sexual. Dune had thrown her an amazing party. She would always be grateful. He also knew how to keep a woman up all night and make her very happy. She’d be smiling to herself all day.
He’d left her house at first light. Sophie had offered to go with him to the airport and see him off, but he’d insisted she stay in bed. Exhausted, she kissed him good-bye, then fell back asleep clutching the pillow still warm with his body heat. She’d slept another two hours.
She faced a busy day ahead. The museum was her first stop. There she’d meet with both her contractor Kai Cates and her fiscal advisor from the courthouse. She was so excited, she could barely sit still. Her vision of the museum would soon be a reality.
A flash of the hamster ball alerted her that her girls were getting their morning exercise. She’d let them out of their cage before she’d made her coffee and cut her piece of cake. Their feet now churned as they looked for new places to explore. They reminded her that life was an adventure. Already, she’d experienced many great moments.
The kitchen clock read eight-thirty. It was time to get dressed and start her day. She caught up with Glinda and Scarlett in the library and returned them to their cage. They went right for the wheel. Spinning was a big part of their lives.
Sophie headed to her bedroom. She opened an armoire and carefully chose her outfit. Today she would be cleaning the museum. She’d be scrubbing walls and floors and didn’t care if her clothes got dirty. She was capable of doing laundry.
She was feeling strong and good about herself when she selected a brand-new blue T-shirt embellished with a rhinestone butterfly and a pair of skinny jeans with the price tag hanging from the belt loop. She cut off the tag.
Next, she sat on the edge of the bed and slipped on a pair of Keds. Her bed resembled a sea of tangled sheets and spent desire. Her cheeks grew warm. The comforter was disheveled and two corners of the bottom fitted sheet had come undone. Pillows lay scattered everywhere, on the bed and on the floor.
The room temperature was cooler than she was used to at night. Dune had set the thermostat at sixty-eight degrees. She’d shivered, then warmed with his touch. Sex with him had been hot and nonstop. She missed his body heat. Sighing, she raised the thermostat several degrees on her way out.
She would change the sheets later, but not the pillowcases. Dune’s scent lingered on the fine-threaded cotton. She’d take his male scent to bed with her tonight.
She called her limo driver and Roger pulled into her driveway within ten minutes. After a short hop across town, she arrived at Center Street. She scheduled an eight p.m. pickup before he drove away. With Dune out of town, she needed to stay busy. She planned to put in long hours getting the museum ready to open to the public.
Once on the sidewalk, Sophie stared at the shop about to undergo a major transformation. The museum was around the corner from Molly Malone’s diner, making it a location with a lot of foot traffic.
Behind her, the morning sun made its climb upward, casting deep shadows along the street and between the buildings. A glare off the storefront window made her blink.
Sophie shielded her eyes and smiled to herself. Here was where she wanted to be. She could think of no better career than that of curator of the Barefoot William Museum.
She was about to relive history.
She would make the Cateses proud.
She took the keys from her hobo bag and opened the door. Dust fluttered about her and made her sneeze. She needed to start a list of cleaning supplies. Air freshener was a must.
“Hey, Sophie,” Kai Cates gave her a shout as he came in behind her. He was a tall man with dark blond hair. His body was solid and lean. He wore carpenter’s pants and a T-shirt scripted with Nail It. A twined leather bracelet circled his wrist. Nicole Archer from The Jewelry Box had created the masculine piece of jewelry. Kai never took it off.
Sophie smiled at the man who would breathe life into her vision of the museum. “What do we do first?” she asked. She was open to his direction.
He looked around. “The place needs to be cleaned, but that can come later. Let’s talk about the renovation. I need to know where you’re headed.”
She motioned him into the second room toward the back of the shop. She knew what she wanted. She had the room laid out in her mind. She shared her vision. “I want an enormous mural drawn on the west wall, one depicting the Cates family tree. William will be at the top,” she said. “His family and relatives will branch out below him. Beside each name, I want to document something special about the person.”
She knew William well from his journals, and she’d already researched many of the family members. She had a good grasp on everyone’s background and how they had contributed to the growth of the town.
“Go on,” Kai said, impressed.
“The artist will paint snowfall and sunshine by William’s name, portraying both Minnesota and Florida,” she said. “Perhaps a hammock and a hound dog, too. His wife Lily Doreen loved to knit. She made wool scarves for her family long after they moved to Florida. Perhaps the muralist could depict knitting needles and yarn.” She glanced at Kai. “What do you think so far?”
“It sounds wonderful,” Shaye Cates answered for her cousin Kai. She stood in the doorway, listening intently. Violet, Randy, and Chuck came in behind her. “I like the sense of warmth you’ve created and the closeness of generations. Please continue,” she encouraged Sophie.
Sophie picked up where she’d left off. “One of William’s brothers, Walt, owned a trawler called the Breakwater . A fishing boat fits him best. Another younger brother, Harold, ran the weekly chronicle. A newspaper would work for him. A steamy apple pie goes to William’s youngest daughter, Helen.” She then skipped several generations and returned to the present. “Your Grandfather Frank was the local cribbage champion for decades. His wife Emma played an upright piano.”
She smiled at Shaye. “A beach chair and a computer on the shoreline by the pier describe you best.”
Shaye threw back her head and laughed. “You know me so well.”
“How about a tool belt for me?” asked Kai.
“Done, unless you’d rather be known as the owner of Hook It, Cook It,” Sophie said. Hook It sold bait and tackle on the pier. Cook It stood next door, a small chef’s kitchen where fishermen could have their daily catch cleaned and filleted for a fee, then baked or fried for dinner or lunch.
“Let’s go with the hammer and nails,” said Kai, pleased with his choice.
Violet raised her hand. “What about me?” she asked. “I love working at Molly Malone’s, but I won’t be there forever.”
“No drawing on the mural will be a fixed testament of who you are,” Sophie promised her. “We can modify the design at any given time.”
“What about your boyfriend Dune?” came from Randy.
Her boyfriend. Sophie blushed. They were friends and lovers, but there’d been no mention of commitment. Randy assumed that because she and Dune spent time together they were a couple. She wouldn’t embarrass him by correcting his misconception.
“A volleyball and board shorts for Dune,” she said.
“How can I get in the mural?” Mac James asked as he strolled into the shop. He carried a big box of cleaning supplies.
“You marry a Cates,” said Shaye.
That stopped him short. “No other options, huh?”
“It’s the Barefoot William Museum,” Sophie reminded him. “It’s all about their family.”
“Have you chosen anyone to paint the enormous tree?” asked Violet. “There are several professional artists in the area.”
“I like to paint,” Chuck spoke up. “I could do the outline.”
“I’ll make the branches,” came from Randy.
They were so young, Sophie thought. In the back of her mind, she’d envisioned a seasoned artist for the job. However, she couldn’t dash the hope in the boys’ eyes.
There was something to be said for youthful exuberance. They were the next generation of the Cates family and needed to make their mark on the boardwalk.
“You two boys can work together,” she suggested to Randy and Chuck. “Submit a few sketches to me and we’ll go from there. I’m open to seeing your designs.”
“Tonight, my house, we’ll get started,” Randy said to Chuck, punching him on the arm. Chuck was all grins.
Shaye stood beside Sophie and hugged her. “Thanks for taking care of our boys,” she said, keeping her voice low.
Our boys. Shaye made her feel like family.
“The mural will be an awesome attraction in the back room,” Shaye continued. “What do you have planned for the front?”
“Lots of photos, along with any antiques the Cateses wish to donate to the museum,” Sophie said. “Anything valuable can be set behind glass. Kai can install a security system. I plan to display the journals, too.”
“You’ve got your work cut out for you,” said Violet, rolling up her sleeves. “Let’s get the shop cleaned up so you can get down to business.”
“I’ve enlisted Mr. Clean for the job,” Mac said, holding up the cleaning solution and a scrub brush.
Sophie looked at everyone, surprised. “You’re all here to help me?”
“I didn’t show up on my own,” Mac admitted. “I got a text from Dune threatening my life if I didn’t lend you a hand.”
“I got the same text,” said Violet.
“So did we,” Randy and Chuck said at the same time. “Dune knew it was our day off.”
“Apparently my brother made the rounds during his layover in Atlanta,” said Shaye, laughing. She looked over her shoulder and a small sigh escaped. “Oh, my, I don’t believe it. Here comes Grandfather Frank.”
Sophie had met Frank only once at Shaye and Trace’s wedding. Shaye had introduced them after the wedding ceremony on the beach. Frank had been brusque toward her. He hadn’t offered his hand or spoken a word. His nod had been brief. She found him intimidating.
He stood before her now, a man with a full head of white hair, a sharp, challenging gaze, and a stern expression. Age bent his shoulders ever-so-slightly. He wore a faded gray shirt, white shorts, and Dearfoam house slippers.
Mac eyed Frank’s feet. “Dude, slippers?”
“My feet hurt,” Frank said, his tone gruff. “I wore work boots in the orchard yesterday and got two blisters.”
“Did you wear socks with your boots?” Again from Mac.
Frank narrowed his gaze. “I can dress myself, son,” he said.
“How’d you get here, Grandpa?” Shaye asked, concerned. “Your license expired a month ago and you haven’t been to the DMV to renew it. You know I’m available whenever you need a ride.”
“Trace picked me up. My coming here was his idea,” Frank said, stunning them with his explanation. “He drove out to the house and offered me a lift. He thought I’d be interested in the renovation. I damn sure am.”
Shaye smiled. “My husband is full of surprises. Where is he now?”
Trace appeared seconds later. “I’m bringing up the rear.” He walked straight over to Shaye and kissed her with a husband’s pleasure in seeing his wife. He was dressed for the office in a dark business suit and polished wingtips.
Sophie was glad to see her brother. Trace was formidable, but he had a big heart. He understood his wife’s closeness to her family. Shaye had been heartbroken when her grandfather disowned her following their wedding the previous summer. Resolution between them was coming slowly.
For his wife’s sake, Trace had put the past behind him and was making an effort to heal old wounds. He’d taken time out of his busy day to drop off mops, brooms, sponges, and several buckets.
Trace’s idea of drawing Frank into the renovation was brilliant, Sophie thought. Shaye and her granddad were once again together, working toward a common goal.
“Frank, you’ve met my sister Sophie,” Trace said by way of introduction. “I think she’ll make a great curator of the museum.”
Frank pursed his lips and looked her over with an inquisitive eye. Sophie sensed his mental debate. She wasn’t certain he liked her. The fact that she cared so much for Dune had her holding her breath while she waited for him to say something. She hoped Frank would accept her.
He came around, but on his own terms. “I don’t cotton much to any Saunders.” He was a man of strong opinions. “I find you far too young for this position. You’re fortunate that I have some time on my hands, young lady. You need a consultant.”
“Historical accuracy is important to me,” said Sophie. “I would appreciate your assistance.”
“I’ll be here every day,” he assured her. He seemed pleased to have a purpose for getting up in the morning. “I’ll get my driver’s license renewed later today.”
Sophie found herself staring at Frank. At his wide brow, the awareness in his light brown eyes, the solidness of his jaw. He remained a good-looking man even in his golden years.
“Dune looks a lot like you,” she said without thinking. Her cheeks warmed.
“You’ve got a keen eye,” the older man said. “The family notices our similarity, but you’re the first outsider to do so.”
Outsider. That was how he saw her. His attitude might never change. She inhaled deeply, trying not to let her hurt feelings show. If she was going to make the museum a success, she had to get organized.
She looked around the room, at its cracked walls and scuffed floors. She’d never cleaned beyond wiping down her kitchen counter. How hard could it be? Still, she hesitated to get started.
“I have to get back to the office,” Trace said, breaking the silence. He kissed Shaye a second time, then crossed to Sophie. He gave her a quick hug, lowering his voice near her ear. “You can do this, Sophie. I’m very proud of you.”
He left the shop, his words giving her confidence. She needed it. Everyone was watching her, waiting for instructions. She said the first thing that came to mind. “Pick a spot and scrub.”
That was all the direction they needed. Her helpers began to sweep, scrub walls, and do windows.
Sophie got busy, too. She discussed shelving and glass-front displays with Kai, listening to his suggestions and adding her own ideas. He took the measurements for shelving additions, while she checked to see how the clean-up work was progressing.
By noon, the morning shift had departed, all but Mac. He stuck it out. The afternoon crew, consisting of Jenna, Eden, and Nicole, showed up at one. Mac glanced at Jen and Jen returned his stare. Sophie saw the heat in Mac’s eyes and the longing in Jen’s own before Jen looked away. They were definitely into each other, she thought.
Molly delivered a late lunch from the diner. They ate picnic-style. Everyone sat on the floor and enjoyed grilled cheese sandwiches and double-chocolate fudge brownies.
Sophie found Frank watching her throughout the day. He caught her at the worst moments. Like when she was carrying a cleaning bucket and backed into a wall. The water spilled out and soaked her T-shirt.
Mac was Mac. He let out a low whistle, his eyes wandering to her breasts. “Wet T-shirt contest,” he called, encouraging the other women to participate.
Damp sponges flew at Mac from every direction. Eden had the best aim. She caught Mac in the face. He inhaled lemon soap and blew a bubble. The man had talent.
Sophie tugged on the hem of her shirt, drawing the cotton away from her chest. She wished she’d brought a change of clothes.
Jenna saved her from further embarrassment. She went to Three Shirts and returned with a dry yellow tee. Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho, It’s Off To Work I Go was scripted on the front.
Shortly after that, Sophie tripped over a broom. She couldn’t help it. Her thoughts were on Dune and she ran into Eden, who was sweeping up the floor. Eden was apologetic, but it wasn’t her fault. Moments later, Sophie stepped on a full dustpan and the contents spilled on the clean floor. She felt bad, making extra work for Eden.
Her friends knew she was clumsy, but Frank didn’t. She’d wanted to make a good impression. She hadn’t succeeded. She found that disappointing.
She rolled her shoulders, then twisted left. That’s when she saw Frank rubbing his lower back. She realized he’d been standing all day. He’d grown uncomfortable. She immediately sent Mac to Molly’s diner to borrow a chair. Frank needed to get off his feet.
“Pop a squat,” Mac told Frank when he returned with the chair.
Frank sat down heavily. He took off his slippers and rubbed his feet. Sophie noticed his blisters were red and raw. Poor man. She hurt for him. She carried Band-Aids in her hobo bag. She offered him two.
Frank’s expression was stern but melancholy when he accepted the adhesive strips. “You remind me of my Emma.” His voice was low and gravelly. “She was”—he paused for a moment, deciding what to say—“what you might call awkward at times. But she had a big heart and always had a smile for me, even on the worst of days.”
He looked toward the front window. Sophie sensed his stare went beyond the glass and to another time. “Do you play the piano?” he asked her.
Sophie shook her head. “I’m musically challenged.”
“Come to my home sometime,” Frank said, meaning it. “I’ll teach you how to play ‘Chopsticks.’ ”
“I’d like that,” Sophie said.
The day advanced according to plan. Three o’clock and her fiscal advisor, Ted Donahue, arrived right on time. He was a man of medium height with a slight build and a pleasant face. He wore a white shirt tucked into brown pants and sported a tie designed with colorful M&Ms.
“My daughter’s favorite candy,” he said when he saw Sophie smile. “Mandy’s five, and her life’s all about plain and peanut M&Ms.”
Sophie had loved Snickers as a kid.
Ted tapped his hand on his briefcase. “The mayor assigned me to work with you. Is there a quiet place where we can talk?” he asked, noting the cleaning and scraping going on in the front room. “I want to go over your fiscal budget and employment contract.”
“My office is in the back,” she offered.
Kai had set up a temporary desk for her, consisting of two sawhorses with a board in between. They remained standing since there were no chairs. Ted popped open his briefcase and produced the necessary paperwork.
Sophie scanned the computer-generated budget. It was all Greek to her. She excelled in history and literature, but math was not her strongest skill.
After thirty minutes, her eyes crossed. Ted was a very patient man. He answered her questions and went over the graphs with her until she grasped the basics.
“It’s not that tough, Sophie,” Ted assured her. He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Think of the museum budget like a household budget. You have so much money to spend each month. The most important thing to remember is not to overdraw your checking account.”
She nodded. That made sense to her.
He rummaged through his briefcase and located a thick manila envelope, which he handed to her. “Your employee contract.” He pointed out several important paragraphs and explained each one in detail. “Read it over carefully and sign on the lines with the Xs. I’ll pick it up later this week.”
He packed up his briefcase and, on his way out, he said, “I encourage you to accept donations to the museum.”
Sophie walked him to the door. He shook her hand politely. “I’m not a Cates by birth,” he told her, “but I love history. The museum will be a nice addition to the town.”
Ted cleared the door just as Mac shouted, “Make way everyone, garbage to the Dumpster.” He hefted two large bags of trash and headed for the loading dock.
Sophie noticed her volunteers were diligent throughout the remainder of the day. No one had taken a break. They kept a steady pace. It was long past six when they began to slow down, backs aching, knees sore. Sophie glanced around her museum and let out a relieved sigh. Gone were the dust, dirt, and moldy scent. A fresh aroma of lemon filled the air. The walls were scrubbed free of grime. The front window sparkled.
Kai Cates crossed to her. He hooked his thumbs in his tool belt, then said, “Nicole and I are headed out, if that’s okay with you. We have plans.”
“Every night is date night for us,” Nicole said, joining them. She winked at Sophie. “It keeps the romance alive.”
Definitely alive, Sophie agreed. Kai and Nicole raised the temperature in any room. His gaze was hot and his smile was sexy. Nicole licked her lips, tempting him. Their heat made Sophie’s skin prickle.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Sophie,” said Kai.
“I’ll be here after eight,” she told him.
Eden came up behind her and gave her a hug. “I’m all worn out,” she said, wiping her face with a paper towel. “By the way, I ordered several new vintage cut-outs for Old Tyme Portraits. Stop by and I’ll take your picture.”
“I’d like that. Thanks, Eden.” Sophie watched her helpers leave one by one. Trace picked up Shaye and Frank minutes later.
Frank turned to Sophie at the door. “You have a long way to go, young lady, but the end result will be worthy of your efforts,” he said, nodding his approval.
His compliment pleased Sophie.
“I’ll see you bright and early in the morning.” He followed Shaye out.
Sophie leaned back against the sandpapered wood of the front door. She was tired, but happy. Frank was the biggest surprise of all. She’d bet the older gentleman would beat her to work each morning.
He’d been enthusiastic, sitting in his chair all afternoon, watching the museum take shape, his sharp eyes missing nothing, scolding Mac when he fooled around.
Frank’s presence pleased Sophie greatly. She hoped he would become a permanent fixture. It occurred to her he would need his own key. She’d have an extra one made for him.
Her thoughts turned to the work she’d planned for Tuesday. She and Kai would select paint for the front room. Once the painting was completed, Kai would buff the hardwood floors, which were scuffed and marred from customer traffic.
The bookstore had been a popular spot for tourists and had seen a lot of sandy bare feet and flip-flops in its day. Sunbathers had purchased their favorite novels to read on the beach.
It would soon be history buffs pouring through the doors, she thought, visitors who were as interested in the past as they were in the present. She had fascinating tales to tell them. She knew the Cateses better than she knew her own family.
Her good friend Jenna bumped Sophie’s elbow as she came to stand beside her. “I have to take off, too,” she said. “I left my assistant in charge for the afternoon. Jamie is competent, but I need to cash out.”
“I appreciate your help,” Sophie said.
Mac hung around a moment longer. He stood by Sophie and stared at Jen until she cleared the door. He craned his neck to catch a look at her on the sidewalk.
“Why don’t you go after her?” Sophie asked.
“Can’t,” he said. “I ‘overwhelm her.’ ” He used air quotes. “She expects me to play nice and give her space until after the Huntington Beach Classic.”
Sophie pursed her lips. “Since when do you do what’s expected?”
“I never have until Jen,” he admitted.
She was hesitant. “So, you’ll be back?” It was important for her to know the answer. If Mac returned, so might Dune.
“I’ll be back so fast Jen won’t know what hit her,” he said. “I plan to hop a plane following our final match point.”
“You’re predicting a victory?” she asked.
Mac grew serious. “I believe in Dune. He’s the best player in the game,” he said. “Study his face the next time you watch us play on TV. No one has more mental control than he does. He wills us to win.”
Sophie understood. She knew Dune’s expression well. His steely-eyed stare was so intense it made her shiver. His game was powerful and precise. Dune became the game of volleyball with his first serve. “The two of you are unbeatable when—” She broke off her sentence, biting down on her lip.
“When we’re both healthy,” he finished for her. “Don’t worry, Sophie. Somehow we’ll pull off Huntington. Then we’ll evaluate our situation.” Mac rubbed the back of his neck. “Dune has his treatment tomorrow. If the medical procedure works, the Hermosa Beach Open will be the next stop on our tour.”
“Hopefully he’ll have options,” she softly agreed.
“Volleyball is his life,” said Mac. “That’s all he’s ever known.”
Sophie had to face the truth. There was a distinct possibility Dune might not return to Barefoot William. Not for some time, anyway. Should his tendonitis improve, he was going to be very busy traveling. According to the information she’d found on the Internet, the schedule for the upcoming professional beach volleyball tour ran through October.
She sighed deeply. It could be a long five months.
Her stomach clutched at the thought of not seeing him for so long, but she had to live with that. She would never ask him to choose between her and his sport. There’d be no contest.
He’d pick volleyball.
“I’m off, Soph.” Mac dropped a light, brotherly kiss on her forehead. “I told Frank I’d bring home dinner. We’re having Mexican tonight. He likes beef tacos and I’m having supersized burritos. Maybe I’ll buy him a sombrero so he can eat in style.” He paused, grew thoughtful. “Want to join us? We could do the Mexican Hat Dance.”
Sophie grinned, knowing Mac would liven up her evening, but she’d rather be alone. “Not tonight, Mac. I’ll be here for another couple hours, then I’m headed home to my girls,” she told him. “It’s popcorn and a movie for me.”
“Sounds good. Bye, babe.” He gave her a wave, and then he was gone.
The door closed, and Sophie walked around the shop. She took a good look at the two rooms that would make up the museum, then her office. She could see the family mural, the black-and-white photographs, and display cases on the walls. A living history of the boardwalk she loved. Finally, she sat down on the chair Frank had vacated. She hadn’t realized how mentally exhausted she was until now. She closed her eyes and massaged her brow.
“Hello, anyone here?” a woman called from the front room.
Sophie startled at her mother’s voice. “Back here,” she said.
Maya appeared in the doorway looking as elegant as if she’d stepped from a fashion magazine. Sophie wondered what special occasion had prompted her to bring out her formal attire. Her mother looked stunning in a tea-length black satin dress and black leather pumps. She carried a silver evening bag. Diamonds sparkled at her ears and on her wrist. Her makeup was light but effective, giving her a polished look. Her hair was loosely tied back with a black velvet ribbon. She looked younger than her fifty-seven years.
“You look lovely, Mother,” Sophie said, meaning it.
“Thank you” was all Maya said. Nothing more, no mother-daughter conversation about the designer or where she’d bought the dress.
Instead, she looked around the room, her gaze landing on the buckets and mops. She sniffed, and the corners of her eyes and mouth pinched slightly. The strong smell of cleaning products was not to her liking.
“I’m surprised to see you,” Sophie initiated.
“Trace mentioned you’ve been hired as the curator of the Barefoot William Museum,” her mother said.
Sophie felt a momentary sense of relief. Leave it to her big brother to help her out by breaking the news to her parents. She appreciated his sharing the information with them. Trace had saved her from the brunt of their caustic remarks.
“I’ve read William Cates’s journals and I admire the man,” Sophie said with great care. “He embraced the town as if it were family. All he ever wanted was to provide for those he loved and to live in peace.” She met her mother’s gaze. “Our ancestors treated him poorly. Evan Saunders was a capitalist. He bullied William. He kicked sand in William’s face. Evan took land that belonged to the Cates family without asking. Any alliance that might have formed between the two families turned into a bitter feud.”
Maya pursed her lips. “Do you wish you’d been born a Cates?” she asked.
Sophie shook her head. “No, I’m happy with who I am.” She had a question for her mother, one that had weighed heavily on her mind for many years. Somehow, she found the courage to ask her, “Are you glad I’m your daughter?”
“Why would you ask me that?” Maya lips parted. She appeared genuinely surprised.
Sophie’s mouth was dry and her throat closed. She took a deep breath, then managed to say, “I feel like I’m a disappointment to you.”
Maya glanced aside, refusing to meet her eyes. She drew a tight breath as she brushed imaginary lint from her sleeve. Sophie realized she’d made her mother uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Maya finally said.
“It’s more than a feeling, Mother. It’s a fact.” Sophie’s heart squeezed tighter yet. “In your eyes, I seldom do anything right.”
Maya stiffened. “I’ve never meant to make you feel unwanted or less of a person.”
“Perhaps that wasn’t your intent,” Sophie said, allowing her that concession. “But I’ve never felt good enough around you.”
A heavy pause hung in the air before Maya said, “I don’t know how to say this, Sophie, but I see myself in you and that frightens me.”
Sophie’s eyes rounded. “You see me in you?”
“We are very similar in many ways,” Maya confessed to her. She glanced at the ceiling, then around the room, stalling for time. Her words came slowly and when they did, Sophie was taken aback. “I was plump, unpopular, and insecure when I was younger,” her mother began. “I never dated in high school. Then I went to college. That’s when your father fell in love with me.
“Unfortunately, Brandt’s parents found me lacking as a future daughter-in-law,” she continued, her voice turning brittle as she spoke. “I wasn’t good enough for their son, they said in no uncertain terms. They didn’t approve of our engagement because I wasn’t a socialite with an old-money pedigree. His mother, Juliana, had chosen another woman for Brandt and did everything in her power to push us apart.”
Sophie considered her Grandmother Juli. The woman was stylish and refined. She had reserved parking places around town and she’d donated a pew to her church so family members could sit together. But her expression was stiff, her manner disengaged, and her smile never reached her eyes. As a young girl, Sophie had been as afraid of her grandmother as she’d been of the boogeyman.
Maya paced the length of the front windows and back. Her sigh was self-deprecating, more of a shudder. “I can recall Juliana inviting me to a boat show at Saunders Harbor. She wanted Brandt to see how poorly I fit in with their elite crowd. We had to cross ramps between the yachts, not easy for me to do carrying a peach mimosa in a long-stemmed glass. I nearly died when the sole of my pump scuffed the rubber walkway and I tripped. Brandt grabbed my elbow, but I jerked forward and lost my balance.” Maya stopped, her eyes widening as she remembered the embarrassing moment. “The mimosa drink flew straight into Juli’s face.”
“Oh, Mom,” Sophie exclaimed, her voice sympathetic. “I’m so sorry.”
“So was I.” Maya sighed heavily. “Juliana upped her campaign against me and continued to point out my faults. Like the time I wore a white dress to a house party after Labor Day, a major fashion faux pas in her eyes. Nobody else noticed, but she did. She criticized my choice of dress to anyone who would listen to her. That included everyone who wanted to be invited to her next afternoon tea.”
Maya walked to the window and looked out, staring at the passersby on the boardwalk. “Juliana threatened to disinherit Brandt if he married me. Imagine how I felt when I discovered Brandt was more materialistic than I’d realized. He caved in to her demands.”
Maya glanced back at Sophie. Her brow wrinkled ever so slightly and the hollows in her cheeks deepened as she drew in a long breath.
Her lips twisted together when she said, “I loved him and refused to let him go. How could I? He’d been the only man to pursue me and, as I saw it, my only hope for marriage.”
She clutched her evening bag so tight her hands shook. Sophie had never seen her mother so anxious. “Trace is not aware of what I’m about to tell you, Sophie,” her mother said. “I must ask you to keep my confidence.”
“Your secret is safe with me, Mother.”
“Throughout our relationship, Brandt was never shy about wanting . . . sex.” She said the word as if it were distasteful. “To keep him, I did what I had to do.” She paused. “I got pregnant.”
Sophie’s jaw dropped. Her beautiful, sophisticated mother had carried a baby to keep her man. “Did Grandma accept you once Trace was born?” she asked.
“We came to an understanding,” she confessed. “I gave her an heir in exchange for the Saunders name. Sadly, I discovered I wasn’t the maternal type. I hired a nanny to care for my baby. Juli held that against me, too.”
“Trace turned out just fine,” Sophie was quick to say.
“Your father doted on him. Brandt saw Trace as the perfect son, and he was. Interestingly, my life took on a drastic change after that. To my surprise, Brandt stood up for me and his mother backed off. Even more surprising, as the years went by, Juliana took me on as her pet project. She delighted in molding me to the Saunders image. In the end, she won.” Maya lifted her chin. “Here I stand today, well dressed, well mannered, and well off.”
“Trace was meant to be an only child,” Sophie assumed.
“That was our plan until your father and I spent a long holiday in Costa Rica,” Maya said. Her eyes shone and her cheeks pinkened. “That’s where we renewed our wedding vows. On our flight home, Brandt got amorous. Private jet, too much champagne, high altitude . . .”
Sophie’s eyes went wide. “I was conceived at thirty thousand feet?”
Her mother actually smiled. “We almost named you Skye.”
Sophie was so stunned she couldn’t speak.
“You were a beautiful baby with a sweet disposition,” Maya said with warmth in her voice that Sophie had never heard before. “I tried to be a good mother, but as you grew older, I saw myself in you. There you were, tripping over your own feet and with a nervous stomach, just like me when I was a kid. I was always afraid you’d vomit in public. I’d take you shopping and you’d hide in the dressing room away from people. I was so embarrassed for you. When you began seeking solace in books, I left you to your reading. I was happy you’d found a place where you felt comfortable, but I admit, Sophie, it also gave me an excuse to avoid my responsibility as a parent. That I regret more than you’ll ever know, but I’ve always loved you.”
Sophie nodded, taking it all in. “I’m no longer that awkward little girl with her nose in a book, Mother. I’ve grown up. This was my summer of adventure,” she said with conviction. “I’ve outgrown my shyness and I don’t have so many fears. I think I’ve found my niche here in the museum. This could be the start of a promising career.”
“Ah, yes, the museum,” Maya said, a different light coming into her eyes. She was holding something back, but what? “That was the original purpose of my visit.” She unfastened the clasp on her evening bag and fingered through the contents before drawing out two tattered leather journals.
“I gather those are not your diaries,” Sophie said, smiling, trying to put her mother at ease.
“These are a lot more interesting and I assure you, they’re authentic.” She handed them to Sophie. “Evan Saunders was a cutthroat capitalist, but there was a side to the man few people ever knew. Read his final account of what happened between William and him. Your opinion of Evan may change.”
Sophie stared at the journals, afraid to breathe. The leather looked ancient and she had no reason to doubt her mother’s word. It must have taken a lot of courage for her to come to the shop and admit her mistakes. And to give her daughter the daybooks.
Sophie turned to the first page; the paper was creased and crackly and yellowed with age. The ink had smeared over several words, but the majority of sentences were legible. Her heart gave a squeeze when she saw Evan Saunders’s name scrawled at the top of the first page. She was holding a man’s private thoughts in the palms of her hands.
What would she find? Secrets? Memories? She’d read the earlier chronicles of Evan’s life written through nineteen forty-five. From what she could see at first glance, these pages spanned his later years.
“Why are you giving me the journals now?” She wondered at her mother’s motive.
“Despite appearances, I never minded the feud,” Maya admitted. “The Cateses always seemed beneath us. There was no reason for them to cross Center Street. Then Trace married Shaye and you became interested in the beach boy. Times changed, so here I am.”
Beach boy. Sophie let that pass. For now. She looked at her mother, not knowing what to say. “Thank you,” she managed, holding the journals tight to her chest. “I’ll take good care of them.”
“I know you will, Sophie. I trust you,” Maya said. She walked to the door, then turned around before she left. She had something else on her mind. “Trace mentioned that Dune Cates was out of town. I thought we could have breakfast together this week.”
“I’d like that,” Sophie said. “I have a new cookbook. I’ll make you French toast.”
Maya made an attempt to dissuade her daughter from cooking. “We could eat at the Sandcastle,” Maya offered as an alternative. “The hotel serves a sumptuous brunch.”
Sophie was firm. “I’d rather cook.”
Maya had one hand on the door handle when she glanced back at Sophie. A corner of her mouth lifted. “Yes, you do have my stubbornness.” She seemed pleased by that fact as she slipped out the door.
By the time the limo driver came for Sophie, she had everything locked up. With the journals tucked safely in her purse, she headed home. Roger dropped her off at her front door.
Once inside, she checked on her hamsters. She took Glinda and Scarlett out of their cage and put them in their plastic ball, then gave them the run of her house.
She changed into her favorite silk lounging pajamas. A bowl of popcorn and glass of chai iced tea accompanied her to the library. There she curled up on the couch and opened the journals.
She read the entries slowly. Evan had documented his business dealings, commented on his family, and written scathing passages on the Florida heat. He was not a warm-weather person.
Sophie felt little affinity toward Evan until the final pages of the second journal. The ink was faint, smudged, and difficult to read. His posts were sporadic, yet his words touched her heart . . .
August 15, 1950
William Cates called me a swindler. He swears I stole a parcel of land out from under him. The acre sits south of Barefoot William. He’s wrong, but he won’t admit it. He’s got more pride than I do. There are no county records of ownership. I bought it fair and square.
March 3, 1951
The fish were running tonight and I caught two snook off the shoreline. The water was rough. William baited a hook right before twilight and we both waited. We stood fifty feet apart. Someone on the beach took our photograph with a Kodak Brownie.
September 9, 1951
Hurricane Abigail destroyed both the Barefoot William and Saunders piers. William and I came together to discuss building a central pier, one that would benefit us both. An argument ensued. William wanted the pier for fishing and amusement. My vision was for a yacht harbor. Nothing was finalized. A second discussion is scheduled for next week.
November 21, 1951
William and I continue to argue over the pier. We have agreed on a central courthouse for both cities. That will give us access to land documentation and recorded deeds. No more finagling over who owns what.
We’ve decided not to approach our families with the joint venture until after the first of the year. We don’t want the holidays disrupted. We plan to start construction on the public facility as early as next March.
December 15, 1951
I’ve been told William has fallen ill. I have not yet heard his diagnosis. I hope it is not serious.
January 5, 1952
One of my business associates informed me that William’s health is failing. I went to his home, but was told he couldn’t have visitors. I left him a fishing lure. He will understand my message.
January 26, 1952
William’s family buried him today. His heart failed him. I stood within the shelter of a pine tree and watched as his casket was lowered into the ground. His widow was inconsolable. Death seems so final. I’ve lost an adversary, yet also a formidable friend. We had come to an understanding by the end of his life. We’d planned several projects together that would have ended the feud between our families. With William’s death, I fear those ventures will no longer be realized. William’s legacy will be one of beloved father and fine fisherman.
I will miss him.
Evan’s last words touched Sophie deeply. Tears escaped her. She ran her fingertips over the final post at the back of the journal. The script was in a different handwriting.
It said: Evan Saunders. Deceased. May 31, 1954.
He’d passed away within two years of William Cates.
Sophie closed the journals and cried. She went through a box of Kleenex. Life was unpredictable. It held promises and secrets and was far too short.
She thought about William and Evan. The two men were from different backgrounds. They were business rivals. They bickered and fought their entire lives, yet in the silence of twilight, with fishing poles in hand, they shared moments of peace. And of friendship.
An olive branch had been extended late in their lives.
In truth, the peace offering was still there, stretching through time, waiting to be recognized.
Sophie would find a way to acknowledge their alliance.
It had been kept a secret for too long.
She needed to speak to Frank Cates.