“I’ll put it on your tab.”
We hugged good-bye and went our separate ways—she back to the library while I headed to the hospital, trying to lose myself in the sounds of the city instead of hearing Cooper’s voice echoing in my head. There’s something about your eyes.
I was reaching for the outer door of the hospital when I heard my name called.
“Dr. Schuyler?”
I recognized the soft Southern voice before I turned around, and prepared myself. “Good afternoon, Miss Middleton. What can I do for you?” She wore an elegant light blue suit that matched the color of her eyes, the tightly fitted bodice hugging her tiny waist. A stylish hat with netting sat perched at an angle on top of her neat chignon, and impeccable white gloves and silk stockings completed the look. I tried not to think about my own bare legs and hands, or straggly hair that stuck to my forehead after my walk from the park. Sighing inwardly, I remembered Dr. Greeley saying that he wanted me to make myself available to Miss Middleton, to answer any of her questions about where to eat. And shop. Like I would know. I doubted we ate or shopped at the same kinds of establishments.
Her blue eyes remained icy despite her smile. “I was hoping we might have a chance to chat—woman to woman.”
“Of course,” I said, trying to remember the names of all the shops Margie was always telling me were the places she’d go once she married her rich husband. “Let’s go inside and out of the sun . . .”
“No. I’d rather not. I’d prefer privacy. Why don’t we walk down the block together?”
I looked at my watch, not bothering to hide my impatience. Some of us weren’t women of leisure who didn’t march to the hour hands of a clock all day. “All right. But I’m afraid I can’t be long. I’m due back in five minutes.”
Her smile widened. “Not to worry. What I have to say won’t take long.”
Attempting to hide my reluctance, I walked toward her, her arm claiming mine as soon as I was close enough. We began to walk in the same direction I’d just come from, our sides pressed against each other as if she were afraid I might try to escape.
“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” she asked as we strolled leisurely down the sidewalk.
“It’s a bit warm,” I said, wondering why she was wasting my time talking about the weather.
“Not if you’re from Charleston. The heat and humidity in the summer are like a wet blanket that’s been resting on coals. It takes some getting used to if you’re not a native like Cooper and me. We were born and raised in Charleston. As a matter of fact, my family has been in Charleston for over two hundred years—isn’t that something? We’ve had a cotton plantation on the Waccamaw River in Georgetown County since the Revolution, which means we have a lot of family connections. Important connections that can make or break an art gallery or even an artist.”
She paused a moment to smooth the loose hair under her hat. “Has Cooper told you that we’ve known each other since we were in diapers? We have so much in common. Our families are even next-door neighbors at our summer retreats on Edisto.”
We continued to walk, but I was becoming less and less aware of my surroundings as she spoke, understanding seeping through me like water through sand.
“Cooper and I are two of a kind, Kate. May I call you Kate?”
I nodded numbly.
“You see, Kate, the best marriages are those that are made between two people from the same world. They understand the same things.” She turned her face toward me and her eyes seemed bleached by the sun. “That’s how I know that Cooper and I are meant for each other.” She placed a slender gloved hand over her heart. “Of course, it helps that he’s mad about me and I’m mad about him.”
I stopped suddenly, causing an old man in a worn brown suit that smelled of pipe smoke to stumble into me. He said something under his breath as he walked past, but I was too focused on Caroline’s perfect face to care. “Then why didn’t you come? The moment you knew Cooper was here, you could have come. But you waited.”
Her face seemed carved from marble, her skin bloodless. I knew her answer before she spoke, by the way she hesitated and didn’t meet my eyes. “Because your letter said that . . .” She stopped. “Because there was a chance he might lose his leg, and I didn’t think I could stand to see him that way. See him as . . . less than a man.”
I stared at her dumbly, unable to think of a single word to respond.
She tugged on my arm and we continued our walk back the way we’d come. “His mother doesn’t travel, but she asked me to come. I had already packed my bags and was preparing for the journey when your second letter arrived, letting us know that his leg had been saved. So, you see, I was prepared to come regardless.”