“Coming!” Heather called, wishing she had dressed. She and Bo had gone together to the beach at dawn, as they did often in the past few weeks. They’d returned, showered and only just sat down for breakfast. Running her hand through her unbrushed hair, she opened the door a crack and peered out.
The last person she expected to see was Cara Rutledge. She was dressed in a black shift dress that looked two sizes too big for her, her dark hair pulled severely back in a clasp that only made her face appear more gaunt. Heather hadn’t seen Cara since the day after she’d arrived. She must’ve lost ten pounds since then, Heather thought. At least. She was a shadow of the vibrant, confident woman who’d welcomed her to the beach house.
“Cara?”
Cara presented a tired smile. “Good morning, Heather. I tried to call. Do you have a minute?” She lifted a white baker’s box. “I brought pastries.” Cara looked at her robe and down to her bare feet.
“Uh, sure. Come in,” Heather stammered, and stepped aside. Closing the door, she turned to see Bo emerge from the kitchen in his pants but no shirt and barefoot. He stopped short, and his smile slipped to reveal his surprise when he saw Cara.
“Hello, Bo,” Cara said, her eyes wide with surprise. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought the deck was done.”
“Yeah, it is,” he replied as he reached up to scratch behind his ear.
When Cara’s gaze met Heather’s again, there was no doubt she knew what was going on behind this closed door.
Heather looked up as Bo approached and they shared a commiserating glance. What to say? A million excuses as to why Bo would be here, half dressed, filled her mind, but one was more lame than the next. Her training in etiquette kicked in.
“We, uh, we were just sitting down for breakfast. Won’t you join us? I’ll open up these pastries.”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your breakfast.” Cara looked up at the hall clock. It was nearly ten o’clock. “At this hour.”
Heather cringed and turned to Bo. He gave her a knowing half smile as though to say, Who cares?
“Look, I’ll come back,” Cara said abruptly. “I came to talk to Heather about something important, but . . .” She appeared lost for words and pressed two fingers to her temple.
“No problem,” Bo said. “I have to take off. You two have your powwow.”
Heather looked up at him, uncertain what to do next. Bo winked at her from behind Cara and gave her an encouraging thumbs-up as he left the room.
“Maybe I will have that cup of coffee, then,” Cara said with a quick smile. “It smells so good.”
“Be right back,” said Heather. “You know where to sit.”
Heather hurried to the kitchen, where she found Bo gulping down a few spoonfuls of grits from the pot.
“You don’t have to leave.”
“Yes, I do,” he replied, then reached out to grab a piece of bacon and stuff it in his mouth. He spoke as he chewed. “It has to be important if she got up and came all the way over here to talk to you. The woman’s been in hiding since the funeral.” He gulped down some coffee. Putting his mug down on the counter, he added, “It wouldn’t be kind to send her away.”
“You’re right.” Heather chewed her lip. “I wonder what she wants to talk about? I hope my father paid the rent.”
“Only one way to find out.” Bo plucked more bacon from the platter, slapped it between two pieces of toast, and gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll grab my things and get out of here. I’ll call you later.”
Heather paled and reached out to touch his arm, staying his progress. “You promise. Okay?”
Bo’s eyes kindled as he took a step back to her. He lowered his head to touch her lips.
She tasted bacon and kissed him back, fiercely.
“You know I will. Now, you best go back in there with Cara’s coffee. And,” he added, patting her bottom, “eat your breakfast, too.”
“Bo,” she said, worrying her lip, “what do I say? What do you think would bring Cara over here, unannounced, so early?”
“First, it’s not that early. And who knows? Don’t worry,” he said and met her gaze.
Bo stepped into the living room, and she heard him exchange a few words with Cara. Heather took the opportunity to hurry on tiptoe across the room; they paused to look at her, but Bo kept up the brief conversation. In the bedroom Heather threw off her robe and grabbed a sundress from her closet. She slipped it over her head, going commando, and stepped into her flip-flops. Dashing into the bathroom, she raked her hair with her fingers and pulled it back into a clasp. That was as good as it was going to get.
Pausing at the door to take a calming breath, she entered the room to see that Bo had left and Cara was standing by the birds in the sunroom making soft whistling noises.
“I’ll get our coffee,” Heather called and hurried back into the kitchen. Taking a breath to calm her nerves, she poured mugs of coffee, added cream. With a last longing look at the grits, she reentered the living room.
Cara strode across the room and sat on the chintz sofa. She gracefully accepted the mug of coffee. Heather noticed how thin Cara’s arms were. “Are you sure you won’t have some breakfast? We could open the pastries.”
Cara shook her head. “No, thank you. Please, help yourself. I hope you like them. I didn’t know what you liked.”
Heather opened the box and breathed in the mouthwatering scent of a dozen freshly baked pastries. She picked up a scone, more for politeness’s sake than hunger. Her stomach was tied up in knots. She bit into it, tasting the sweet cinnamon flavor, then set it on a napkin on the table. Oh . . . she should’ve brought out plates, she thought. Brushing away a few flakes from her dress she asked, “Are you sure you don’t want any?”
Cara only smiled and shook her head.
Heather felt a renewed worry for Cara. She wondered how long it had been since she had eaten a decent meal.
They each sipped from their mugs; looking over the rim, Heather felt all the relaxation and contentment she’d felt earlier dissipate. Once again she felt her shoulder muscles tighten and her stomach clench in anxiety as she worried over what Cara had come to talk to her about. It took all her willpower not to shake her foot. When the mugs were both placed on the table, there followed an awkward silence.
Cara looked out at the ocean. “It’s a beautiful morning.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I hope you’ve been comfortable here.”
“Yes, very.”
Cara folded her hands in her lap. She paused, then looking up again asked, “Would it be terrible for you to consider breaking the lease and leaving early?”
Heather’s brows rose and her mouth opened in a silent gasp. “Leave early? But—but why?”
“It’s complicated,” Cara replied in a reserved manner. “My circumstances have changed, as you know. I’m consolidating my holdings. So I have to move back into my house. This house,” she emphasized to be clear.
“But what about your house?”
“As I said, I’m consolidating. Or, simply put, that house is sold.”
Heather took a moment to speak. “But I have a lease until September.”
“I realize that. That’s why I’ve come to talk to you. To ask you to break the lease. You’ll get back your deposit, of course.”