Cara didn’t grace him with a reply. She picked up her glass and turned her head away to look out the window as she sipped her tea.
Palmer sighed and put his hands on the table. “Okay, okay. I’ll give up the hard sell. But listen to me, Sister. The reason I’m trying to get you to sell the beach house now—aside from the fact that it’s a good idea—is because I’m involved with a new business venture that should reap big profits.”
He paused and waited for her to look back at him. His eyes gleamed.
“I’m talking really big. This one investment could put you in high cotton. For life. Now,” he drawled and lifted his palms. “What kind of a brother would I be if I didn’t share the opportunity with my beloved sister?”
Cara looked at him with thinly veiled interest. “What business venture is this?”
Palmer leaned in and talked in a lower, more urgent voice as though in secret. “It’s a new housing development.”
“I thought you just flipped the occasional house. This sounds risky.”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am. The location is going to explode. It’s all hush-hush until word of the new highway extension is announced. But the inside scoop is that it’s a done deal. I know this town and I’m telling you, I’m all in.”
Cara listened, chewing her lip. She’d love nothing more than to get in early on a deal like this. Palmer had good contacts that went deep in the city’s politics. The kind that were forged in school days. God knew, she and Brett needed the money. But their financial situation wasn’t such that they could consider big investments.
“We don’t have any money to invest,” she said. “Frankly, we’re strapped.”
Palmer leaned back, clearly disappointed. “I’d loan you some. That’s how much I believe in this project. But all my money is already tied up in this deal.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said with a hint of annoyance at her situation. “We couldn’t pay you back. Our money’s completely tied up in the business.”
Palmer turned his head to spear her with a no-nonsense gaze. “So I’m left to wonder . . . why are you wasting good money fixing up this old cottage, when you could make a fortune tearing it down and selling the land.”
When her brother talked like this, his tone and body language eerily reminded her of their father’s. And a more pugnacious, proud, callous man she’d never met.
“Palmer, just stop,” she shot back in a tone that brooked no argument.
A voice broke the sudden, awkward silence. “Palmer, are you still trying to convince Cara to sell this house?”
Brett stood at the sunroom entrance, a lazy grin on his handsome face. His long arms stretched out as he leaned against the doorframe. The man filled the doorway with his size. His face was flushed from exertion, but Cara immediately recognized the relaxed manner that always came from having finished a tough job to his satisfaction.
Palmer walked toward his brother-in-law with his hand extended and the two men shook hands warmly. Friends since they’d been surfing buddies in their youth, they’d followed diverging paths as adults when Palmer assumed his role in old Charleston society and Brett, indifferent to the social hierarchy, followed his passion as a boat captain on the sea.
“Brother, don’t you have any control over your wife?” Palmer asked jovially.
“Brother,” Brett replied with a slap on Palmer’s back, “don’t you know your sister yet? Nobody has control over her.”
“At least over her pocketbook.”
Cara was practically seething, but Brett just laughed. The guy was unflappable, just one of the many reasons she loved him. “She runs the books, did you forget?” Brett stepped to Cara’s side and slipped his arm around her waist, as though sensing she needed the extra comfort. “So what’s up?”
“I’m trying to convince the little lady that she needs to sell this place before dumping any more money into it.”
Cara knew he was prodding her, using phrases like “little lady,” knowing they’d find their mark. “It’s our money. Don’t worry about it.”
“If you get off your high horse and sell the beach house and invest in this deal, you can make a fortune,” Palmer urged. “Hell, even if you don’t do the deal, you’d make a small fortune just selling the house.”
Brett dropped his arm from Cara and put his hand on his hip and looked at Palmer more attentively.
“Seriously?”
“I’m telling you . . .”
“The market’s that good?” Brett rocked on his heels. “How much could we get for this place? Just a ballpark figure.”
“Brett,” Cara interjected testily, trying to ward him off the topic.
“No harm in asking,” Brett said.
Palmer was like any fisherman who feels the first tug on the line. He rubbed his jaw and took a step closer to Brett. When he spoke, it was in that man-to-man tone that set Cara’s teeth on edge. Palmer didn’t even realize he’d turned his back on Cara.
Or, more likely, he absolutely did.
“Hard to be exact. Depends on whether you want to build a house yourself—and you could, you know,” he added in an encouraging tone. “The land alone is worth over a million dollars. The house . . .” He gave the rooms a cursory glance, then sighed. “It’d be considered a teardown.”
“That’s it,” Cara said sharply. “Don’t even suggest that.”
“Stop being so sentimental,” Palmer said, and this time his voice wasn’t teasing but more persuasive. “You’re just going to turn down all that money? And for what? You don’t even live in the house! You spend year after year patching the old place up. What for? The measly rent? What are you hanging on to? Mama is dead, God rest her soul. No one misses her more than me. But she isn’t coming back to this house, Cara. She’s never going to see everything you’ve done and tell you she’s proud of you for it. Mama’s gone. You’ve got to face that.”
Cara swallowed hard. These rooms signified more than a house to her. This house was not just her mother’s touchstone, she realized. It was hers as well. If she sold the beach house, she’d be selling a part of herself. The best part.
If Palmer had left it at that, peace would have prevailed.
“Besides, Cara, who are you saving this old beach house for?”
The pain came so quick and sharp Cara sucked in her breath. She felt Brett’s arm settle on her shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. Palmer was unaware of the dagger he’d thrown. The father of two children, he couldn’t understand her and Brett’s sense of loss. Not having children was their single greatest regret.