“She loved Mexican,” Charlotte grinned. “Fajitas. Chips with salsa and guacamole. The kind they make right at the table.”
Declan stood up and offered her his hand, “Let’s Feliz Cumplea?os the night away, Charlotte. I’d love to hear more about the woman who raised my friend.”
She was hesitant to take his hand. She felt like enjoying this day wasn’t right, that she should be in mourning.
But the look in his eyes and the swell in her heart made her think it was the right thing to do. Her mother had always said she wanted her girls to be happy. Above all else.
And nothing, at this moment, made her happier than Declan DeGraff.
Chapter Seven
Declan was relieved to see Bree Lakes leave. She was a lot of high maintenance energy that he just wasn’t in the mood for at the moment.
As soon as she’d mentioned his mother, he’d frozen. The people closest to him knew that the topic of Anna DeGraff was off limits. He’d cut people out of his life that reminded him too much of her, save for his father. Whether they liked it or not, Henry and Declan were stuck with one another, and their pain at her absence was identically acute.
It's why he’d avoided Charleston for so long. It wasn’t only because everything about this city reminded him of Charlotte and what he’d lost in letting her go. But this city was his mother. From the marshes, to King Street, to the Battery, to Angel Oak, to the bells chiming at St. Michael’s, all of it was her. She was a ghost Declan had never been able to deal with.
So he’d fled. Transferred out of the College of Charleston and moved clear across the country. Finished up at Stanford. Formed a start-up on his own and made billions of dollars when he sold it.
But none of it made him forget. At the end of the day, it was just a distraction.
********
Once Bree was gone, he took in his surroundings. He’d brought some furniture with him from Palo Alto, but not much. He’d need to go out to Mount Pleasant tomorrow and see about hiring an interior designer to spruce up the place. It wasn’t something he was interested in doing. He would rather just throw money at the problem and have it fixed.
He’d talked to his father’s new nurse earlier that morning. Henry DeGraff was still pissed off to be dying and Declan couldn’t blame him. It was a shitty way to go. He’d promised the nurse he’d be over later today to visit; possibly have a conversation with his father that didn’t end in an argument.
But, for now, he needed some fresh air and sunshine. The sound of the Atlantic beckoned him to come out and rest a while. Declan thought jumping in and having a swim might be a good way to start the day.
He stepped out onto the back porch to take in his surroundings. He could see a woman was already laying out on the sand. She had on a black bikini and was flipping through a magazine as she lounged on a beach towel.
Not a bad view, he thought. Not a bad view at all.
Ten Years Earlier…
Charlotte’s least favorite shift of all the shifts she had to work at Dixie Garden was definitely Sunday brunch.
Charleston’s finest came out in their Lily Pulitzer dresses, Tory Burch flats, and Chanel handbags. The women gossiped over pimento cheese sandwiches and she-crab soup that they never touched, all while demanding constant refills of water and sweet tea.
And none of them tipped for shit.
Charlotte dreaded it every week. And on this particular Sunday, she was reminded of why.
Saylor Embers and her coven of southern bitches were seated at one of her tables. As soon as they saw she was their server, the hell began.
“Oh, well, look who it is!” Saylor cooed. “It’s little Miss Ho Bag. How’s it going? Don’t you look adorable in that little apron? It really hides your flaws well!” She smiled and the girls around her chortled at her audacity.
Charlotte ignored the insult, “Good morning. What can I get y’all to drink?”
“Water. Unlike some, we don’t drink our calories. And we prefer it bottled,” Saylor said. “Who knows what you’d do to it.”
“Got it,” Charlotte said. “I’ll bring you bottled water. Did you want an appetizer?”
Saylor rolled her eyes, “No. But I wouldn’t mind a different waitress. I prefer not be served by someone who’s fucking my boyfriend.”
Charlotte’s hands started to shake, “I’m not sleeping with him. And I’m completely capable of serving you whatever you need.”