Brett stepped close and put his hands on her arms and gently rubbed. “I can see this has you worked up.”
Cara felt a flush of embarrassment. “I’m not the type of woman who gets worked up about dreams and all that voodoo.”
“I didn’t know there was a type.”
“But I have to admit it was unnerving. You know, I’ve always felt my mother’s presence in the beach house.”
“That’s only natural. It was her house. It’s still filled with her things.”
“True,” Cara said doubtfully. “But it’s more than that. I really feel her. But she’s never come to me in a dream. I’ve certainly never smelled her perfume. So when Heather said she’d seen Mama in her dream, it just made me wonder. What if??” She looked at Brett beseechingly.
“And maybe you’re a little jealous, too?”
“Jealous? Of what?”
“That your mother came to this new girl instead of you? Maybe that’s what made you compare her to Toy. You used to be jealous of your mother’s affection for her, too.”
Cara felt a niggling of discomfort at the truth in that. She and her mother had had such a difficult relationship that when she’d returned home to mend fences, she had been incensed to find this arrogant, needy young woman taking her mother’s time and attention away from her. Yes, Brett was right. She’d been jealous of Toy. And now . . . was she jealous that her mother had come to yet another lost young woman—instead of her?
Cara’s practical side pushed the notion far back into the nether regions of her mind. She had other, more important issues to discuss with Brett today. She exhaled the last of her angst over the matter and slipped from Brett’s arms.
“Anyway, what’s up? You’re home early,” she called out to Brett as she entered the kitchen.
She always felt pleasure stepping into this room. She’d knocked out a wall and created a big kitchen space, outfitted with modern appliances and new tile. An island now separated the kitchen from the eating area and offered the kitchen the same grand views of the wetlands. As with the kitchen, she’d not only changed the house architecturally, but also had redone all the floors and light fixtures and had designed an efficient, sleek office space from the third bedroom. She’d poured so much of herself into this house, all her hopes and dreams as a bride. It was why she loved it, in some ways just as much as Primrose. While the ocean and beach had their own magnificence, as far as she was concerned, the real action with change of seasons, birds, and tides happened on the back side of the island.
Brett followed her into the kitchen. “I cut out. I was feeling off. Probably tired from last night. Robert was there and we weren’t that busy, so I decided to come home for a run.”
“Careful, old man,” she said. “It’s pretty hot out there today. You should start running in the evenings. I don’t want you to get overheated.”
He came closer to kiss her forehead. “My little mama hen.” Then he swatted her behind. “And who’re you calling an old man?”
She scoffed, slipping under his outstretched arm. She was already mentally preparing for the meaty discussion that was coming up. She opened the fridge and pulled out a can of flavored seltzer water. Flipping open the can, she turned to face him. Her face and tone were serious.
“Brett. We need to talk.”
His face immediately grew equally sober. “Okay. About what?”
“About today. I went to the bank.”
He took a drink from his bottle. “Oh, yeah?” he asked in a casual tone, but his eyes appeared hunted. “What did they have to say?”
Cara had promised herself she wasn’t going to get into an argument with Brett about what she’d learned at the bank, but she could feel the anger and resentment she’d managed to quell during the car ride home bubble up again.
“Maybe we should sit down.”
“Babe, I was about to go for a run.” Brett looked longingly at the door.
Cara knew how much he hated to discuss finances. The subject of profits and losses always put him on edge. But she couldn’t avoid this one.
“This is really important. It won’t take long, but we have to discuss it. Now.”
She went to sit on the leather sofa, then looked up at him expectantly.
Brett reluctantly followed and plopped down on the opposite side of the sofa with obvious pique and stretched his long arm along its back.
“So, what’s this all about?”
Cara skewered him with a cool gaze. “Want to take a guess?”
He leaned back against the cushions and looked at the ceiling. When he lowered his head again, his face looked wan. “The boat,” he said with a sigh. It wasn’t really an answer but a statement of fact.
“The boat,” she affirmed. “That enormous, ridiculous, going-to-drown-us-financially boat!” She felt her self-control slipping and struggled to rein in her frustration. “Brett, it’s not good.”
Brett’s tanned face paled and his brows drew together. “Okay.”
Cara licked her lips. “You recall that when you wanted to buy that new tour boat, we had to take out a home equity loan?”
Brett nodded warily.
“Well, the loan just adjusted upward.”
“It what?” he asked, leaning forward. His eyes flashed, indignation mixed with confusion that the bank could do such a thing.
Cara swallowed an irritated sigh. For all that Brett was a very intelligent man, his knowledge of business and finance was virtually nonexistent. More because he didn’t care to learn than that he lacked the ability to grasp concepts. When she’d married him, he’d been skating merrily along, happy to make enough money to get by and still be able to fish and surf and live the lifestyle he enjoyed. That was all well and good for a man in his twenties. A bit doubtful for a man in his thirties, but bordering on ridiculous for a man hitting forty. Yet Brett was an original. He took great pride in the tour boat company he’d established and felt honor-bound to educate children and adults about the wonder of the ocean. It was more than a job to him. It was a mission. And if it wasn’t wildly profitable, so what?
She loved that about him. Admired him. Married him for it. Yet Cara was savvy enough to know that Brett was reaching the point when he had to begin being realistic about the issues that arose in the latter half of life. When they married and she’d taken over the business side of the tour company, she’d had to convince him he needed to be smart and plan health-care benefits, start setting money aside for his retirement—an ongoing battle for a man who still believed death was a long way off—and, for a time, to plan for children.
“Brett,” she said, trying to keep exasperation out of her voice. They’d discussed this before. “It was an adjustable loan. Of course it was going to change. I just didn’t realize how much.” She licked her lips again and took a breath. “We went through the numbers.” She waved her hand and reached for her drink.
Brett dropped his arm from the back of the sofa and sat straight. “Explain it to me in a nutshell.”
She sat back and her eyes met his, flashing with emotion. “We’re screwed.”