“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t sold either of them yet. Like I always say, you never know.”
Cara sighed, pressing her palms together. “Time’s the one thing I don’t have right now. Mortgages are due, payroll has to be met.” She turned to him. “I hate to ask you, and I wouldn’t except I’m desperate, but . . .” She swallowed. “Could you float me a loan? Just until I figure out what to do? John and I worked out a realistic financial plan, but as you said, we can’t control how long it will take for this house to sell, for the business to sell, and for me to find somewhere else I can afford to live.”
Palmer’s face grew troubled and he rubbed his jaw in thought. “Cara, I’d love to be able to lend you money. I would. But truth be told, I’m pressed for cash. Remember that deal I told you about? It’s in the works, and I’ve had to invest heavily. I just don’t have it to give at the moment. I’m sorry.” He paused. “Why don’t you come stay with me and Julia and the kids for a while? Just until you sell the house and get your feet back under you. It’ll be no trouble at all. We’d be delighted to have you.”
Cara hadn’t expected that. In the back of her mind, her brother was always in the wings, ready and willing to bail her out. Now all she had was the prospect of living with him and his family—which, while she appreciated the spirit in which it was intended, wasn’t something she even wanted to think about.
“That’s the kindest offer. Really. And I appreciate it. But . . .” Cara’s fa?ade of control broke. She hated the tears that sprang with a sudden urgency ever since Brett’s death. A scent, a comment, a memory—anything could set her off.
Palmer reached for her hand. “You’ve done a lot in a short time. More than most of us could do in the best of times. And you had to do it all in the worst of times. You’re exhausted. You try to be so strong, Cara. Always did.” He leaned back. “Now, I admire it, sure. But damn it, sometimes you just have to let us help you out.”
“Then help me sell this place. I need that the most.”
“Consider it done.”
She released a heavy sigh and patted his hand by way of thanks. “As for the rest . . . I’m a big girl. I can figure out where I’ll go from here.”
“Cara!” Julia called from the kitchen in a voice that was iron coated with syrup. “Bring your sweet self in here for some lunch. Hurry now, you don’t want it to get cold. You, too, Palmer. Come on, now, hear?”
Palmer looked at Cara, and suddenly they were both children again being called to dinner by their mother. Cara leaned into her brother again as they both broke out in laughter. It had been so long that she’d forgotten how healing a good laugh could be.
Part Three
HEALING
Barbara J. Bergwerf
SEMIPALMATED SANDPIPER
These birds are small and stocky with short necks, moderately long bills, dark gray-brown plumage, and lightly marked chests. The name “semipalmated” refers to slight webbing between the toes. Important because of their large numbers, they are long-distance migrants who nest in arctic tundra and winter in South America. Often called “peeps,” they are frequently seen chasing waves on their short legs as they feed.
Conservation status: High Concern
Chapter Fourteen
BO PULLED INTO the parking lot on the northern end of Sullivan’s Island by the bridge. He grabbed his Ducks Unlimited ball cap and slapped it on his head. Then he met Heather’s gaze. Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “Let’s go!”
Bo jumped from the truck and came around the back to open her door, but Heather had already climbed out. He spotted her standing at the border of the parking lot, one hand holding on to her straw hat, the other over her eyes as she peered out over Breach Inlet. She appeared more relaxed and confident than ever before, as though she’d set down a heavy burden and was free of its weight. She looked sporty in her jean shorts, tennis shoes, and white T-shirt. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
Bo leaned against the gate of his truck and stared at the vision of Heather against the blue sea and sky. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Truth was, he’d been smitten from the first moment he saw her dancing to Johnny Cash. Who wouldn’t be? She was gorgeous. But seeing her sitting on the floor struggling with the pieces of the birdcages had cinched it. He was caught—hook, line, and sinker.
He still couldn’t believe he’d been lucky enough to land a job where he could see her every day. He’d never won anything—not a contest or the lottery. But meeting Heather felt like he’d won the jackpot. He’d known lots of other pretty women. But all of them were just that—pretty. There was no substance. No passion. No there there. The better he got to know Heather, the more he saw how much more there was to her than her physical beauty. She was shy, that was obvious. And vulnerable. But she had real depth. He’d seen the sharp intelligence behind those brilliant blue eyes. The class in her demeanor. Her anxiety could make her clumsy socially, which might’ve turned off some guys. But it brought out the chivalry in him, learned at his daddy’s knee. He’d been rebuffed by some of the other girls he’d dated when he tried to open a door or order for them both on a date, as if his manners somehow belittled their power. Those dates usually were one-offs. But with Heather . . . He smiled. Bo found her shyness beguiling, her slanted glances flirtatious. Each bloom of a blush on her pale cheek bowled him over. It just made him want to do more for her.
Every morning on the drive over to the beach house, he had prepared what story he’d tell her that day. He’d knock on the screen door and she’d let him in with a tentative hello, but he could tell she’d been waiting for him. He could smell the coffee brewing, and he’d listen for what music she’d selected to play that morning. It clued him in to her mood. Then, while he sipped his coffee, he’d talk to her and she’d feed her canaries. He loved watching her with her birds. She moved like a dancer from cage to cage, cooing to them and singing out their names: Moutarde, Poseidon, Pavarotti. And they responded, singing their hearts out to her in return.