Chapter 17
17
Saint entered the Witherspoon Café on Tuesday morning and smiled at the waitress who greeted him. “Good morning, Saint. Sitting alone this morning?”
“No, Presley, I’m expecting someone.”
“Okay, I have a booth this way.”
“Thanks.” He liked Presley. Saint knew the main reason his mother hadn’t included Presley’s name as one of the eligible single women in town was because people knew she was still grieving the loss of her husband. The man had gotten killed in a motorcycle accident last year.
After he was seated, Presley asked, “Do you want to order now or wait for your guest to arrive?”
“I’ll wait.”
“Okay then, I’ll be back.”
When Presley walked off, Saint checked his watch. He was early. He and Zara had made plans for this week. They would meet for breakfast on Tuesday and lunch on Friday. They didn’t set a particular day to meet for dinner. They figured they could combine dinner with a night of dancing or a movie date. Their goal was to be seen together a few times during each week.
Since Vaughn was out of town for the next three weeks on the second phase of his honeymoon, there was a possibility Saint would have to work late on some days. If that happened, they would adjust their schedule accordingly.
He’d spent Memorial Day with his parents. His father had taken the grill out and Saint had helped cook the meat. Later, they had gone out on his father’s boat. His parents had been pleased that he had spent the entire day with them.
Of course, the news of his and Zara’s kiss had wasted no time reaching his mother’s ears. He wasn’t surprised, since the head bank teller at the Colfax Bank, Selma Bivens, was a friend of his mother’s. Jaye had invited the bank employees, so Selma had been at the engagement party.
Saint figured his mother would have been overjoyed with the news that he was interested in someone. She wasn’t. Although she thought Zara was a nice girl, she felt he was wasting his time dating her. To Irene Toussaint’s way of thinking, he should concentrate his time and attention on one of the women living permanently in the cove, instead of someone who was just visiting. For him to do otherwise, to her that didn’t make sense.
To his way of thinking, it made perfect sense, although he couldn’t tell his mother that. The last thing he wanted was to give his time or attention to any woman. Instead of telling her how he really felt, he told her that of all the girls he’d met since returning to the cove, he liked Zara.
Then she’d asked why he hadn’t invited Zara to officially meet his parents. He’d told her Zara had made other plans for Memorial Day. That was true. She had told him Saturday night she would be meeting a girlfriend in New Orleans.
He and Zara had decided if anyone were to ask that they’d become interested in each other a few months ago, February to be exact, at Vaughn and Sierra’s celebration cookout. He went on to say that the reason he hadn’t mentioned it to anyone was because they’d started off as just friends and had only recently decided to date. None of what he’d told his parents was a total lie. He just hadn’t divulged details of what kind of friendship they’d been sharing before deciding to date.
Saint knew the moment Zara arrived at the café. He gazed at the entrance and saw her. When she saw him, she smiled and immediately he felt sexual vibes flow between them. As she walked toward him, he felt like he was drowning in the sight of her.
She was wearing a pair of jeans and a pretty green printed blouse. Her hair was windblown, and she was pushing it back from her face as she approached the booth. He’d noted the wind off the ocean was brisker than usual this morning. He stood when she reached his table.
“Good morning, Saint,” she said, smiling brightly.
“Good morning, Zara.” He waited for her to slide into the seat across from him before sitting back down. Looking across the table at her, he felt what he always felt whenever they were together—a primal attraction that he couldn’t explain, but wholly accepted.
“You’ve been waiting long?” she asked him.
“Not at all.”
Before she could say anything else, Presley came to take their order. He wasn’t surprised that Presley and Zara knew each other because they’d graduated from high school the same year. But then he figured she would know Presley since she was Juanita Beckett’s daughter. Zara had told him how in secret she had helped Ms. Beckett make her cheerleaders’ uniforms.
He’d heard from a number of people living in the cove that although Zara had come from one of the wealthiest families in town, and while growing up her parents were considered snobs, that term had never extended to Zara or Vaughn. Both had been friendly, down-to-earth and well-liked in school.
After Presley had taken their orders and left, he looked at Zara. “So how was your Memorial Day in New Orleans yesterday?”
She gave him a huge smile. “It was wonderful. Eugenia and I attended the same fashion design school. I hadn’t seen her since moving from Paris. I’m glad I was able to meet up with her in New Orleans. It’s been on her bucket list for years, and she finally got to travel to the States to visit the French Quarter.”
“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. What do you have planned for today?”
She released what sounded like an excited sigh. “I start packing up things, so I’ll spend most of my time at Zara’s Haven.”
“Don’t try lifting any heavy boxes. Leave them. I’ll help you move them when I get off.”
“Thanks, Saint.”
“No problem. Just call me.” Saturday night, after their talk, they had finally exchanged phone numbers. He was glad of that, and to think it had taken a fake affair to make it happen.
Presley returned with coffee and blueberry muffins. When Zara closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, one of his brows arched in amusement. “I take it you like the aroma of Ms. Deb’s muffins.”
She opened her eyes and grinned. “Yes. Especially now since you’ve set me straight that it’s Ms. Debbie who bakes them and not Mr. Chester.”
Saint fought back a laugh. “I’m sure he has the recipe, as well as their sons, Ry and Duke. But I hear Ms. Debbie considers the blueberry muffins as her baby.”
“And I’m not mad at her for doing so.”
He did laugh this time. It couldn’t be helped. In or out of bed, he enjoyed Zara’s company. Faking a serious affair with her would definitely be easy to do. “Did Vaughn and Sierra get off okay yesterday?”
“Yes. He called me from the airport right before their flight left. Sierra’s parents have Teryn, and Levi will be handling things at the Green Fig until Sierra returns.”
“Then the café will be in good hands.”
Since Zara had ordered blueberry pancakes as well, she’d only eaten one muffin and had left the others for him. He had no problem eating the rest. “Have you given any more thought to that vacant building on Main Street?”
After sipping her coffee, she said, “No, why?”
Saint looked at her over the rim of his cup. “Just wondering.”
He was doing more than just wondering. He had walked by the building this morning, and after seeing that picture she’d painted of how the place could be transformed into one of her boutiques, he could visualize it just as she’d painted it.
After Presley refilled their coffee, he couldn’t help but notice how much attention he and Zara were getting. Evidently, most people had heard of their kiss by now, so in their minds seeing them together made sense. Like he’d explained to Zara, not to see them together would warrant speculation and unnecessary talk.
After breakfast, he walked Zara to her car. When they passed by the vacant building, she didn’t say anything about it, and he didn’t, either. He noticed she hadn’t glanced in the window to see if the For Sale sign was still there.
After opening the car door for her, he leaned in and brushed a kiss across her lips. That hadn’t been part of their plan, but for some reason, it felt right doing so at the moment. “Have a good day, sweetheart.”
“Oh, alright.”
Saint could tell the kiss had caught her off guard, as well as the term of endearment. He smiled at the thought of that as he turned and walked off.
Zara didn’t immediately start her car. She sat there and watched Saint until he was no longer in sight. She understood the brush across the lips since you never knew who might have been watching. But why the term of endearment?
And why was a smile spreading across her lips that he was really getting into this fake affair? More than likely, he was trying to get into the role, so calling her that would come naturally if they were around others. That made sense.
She started the car and drove toward Zara’s Haven. Vaughn had delivered a lot of empty boxes to her on Sunday. Although he hadn’t mentioned anything about what she now thought of as “the Kiss,” she knew Vaughn had to have seen it.
Instead, he talked about the trip he and Sierra were taking and how excited they were about it. He said he felt bad about her being in Catalina Cove when he wouldn’t be around. However, she had assured him she would be fine and had plenty to keep her busy. And just for good measure—and to answer any unasked questions—she told him since she and Saint would be spending time together, she would be okay while he was gone.
Zara knew Vaughn would assume, like others, that she and Saint were a couple. That wasn’t a lie since for the rest of her time in Catalina Cove, they would be.
Earlier that morning she had checked in with Sherri to see how things were going with her boutiques. All the store managers had checked in and inventory was good, and three of the boutiques had held successful sales over the weekend. It felt good knowing she could be away and she had capable people in charge of her shops.
Her thoughts shifted to how nice it had felt sharing breakfast with Saint. He had looked good in his business suit. When she’d entered the café, she couldn’t help but admire just how handsome he was. Her gaze had done a leisurely scan of his impressive body.
Visions of how they’d spent Saturday night after their talk—enjoying wild, raging sex—had her mind spinning. Even now, she felt desire clawing inside her. She’d never considered herself a particularly passionate being—until Saint. With him she was doing things in the bedroom that she’d never done before and hadn’t realized could be done. With Saint, she held nothing back and let all inhibitions go. Usually, that was when things got wild.
A short while later, with a smile from those memories still on her face, she pulled into Zara’s Haven, ready to roll up her sleeves and get to work. Before she could exit the car, her cell phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Zara, this is Vashti. Ray and Ashley’s son arrived before daybreak this morning, weighing almost ten pounds.”
“Ten pounds? No wonder we thought she was having more twins. What did they name him?”
“Logan Ashton.”
“Logan Ashton Sullivan. I like it.”
“I do, too. I just wanted to let you know. We’re all happy with the news. I texted Sierra, but if you talk to her, make sure she knows. I’m not sure how the text messaging will work over international waters.”
“I will.”
After ending the call, Zara stepped out of the car, pushing the disheartening thought out of her mind that although she loved kids, thanks to Maurice’s betrayal and her inability to love and trust again, she would never have any of her own.
Margie Lawson checked her watch as she entered the room and looked over at her father. After eating the breakfast she’d prepared and saying over and over how good it was, he had left the kitchen to watch his favorite game show on television. It wasn’t even noon yet but now he was stretched out asleep on the sofa with Butterball lying on his chest.
More than likely, he was still exhausted from last night’s Memorial Day fireworks show. It had been years since she’d last been in Catalina Cove for Memorial Day. Not since she’d left for college. Her father had been excited about going and she was glad that this year she had been with him.
She’d made the right decision to move back home. Like she’d told her son and daughter, with their father gone, there was no reason for her to remain living in Dallas. It wasn’t like they lived there. David, who was thirty-two, and his wife, Cheryl, were living in Wisconsin. Her daughter, Bellamy, who was twenty-seven, and her husband, Sam, lived in Syracuse.
Both of her children had followed in their father’s footsteps and become medical doctors. Both David and Cheryl were neurosurgeons, and Bellamy was a cardiologist. Her husband, Sam, was CEO of his own finance company. She was proud that both her kids were happily married and doing well in their chosen careers.
When Margie’s husband, Ronald Lawson, had died of an aneurysm three years ago, her adult children were both married with lives of their own. Although they had invited her to move in with them, the thought of moving to New York or Wisconsin hadn’t appealed to her. Of course, if either David or Bellamy had given her grandkids by now, she might have reconsidered.
She looked at her father and thought, maybe not. Her father needed her more. It had made perfect sense to move back to the town she’d always loved. The only reason she hadn’t done so before now was because when they’d married, Ron already had a medical practice in Dallas. Still, they brought the kids to the cove to visit their grandparents every chance they got. There was a time when David and Bellamy would spend the entire summer here with her parents.
Her mother had died fifteen years ago, and her father had pretty much accepted a life alone. For years he’d been active in his church. Now he was six years from turning ninety, and although he’d always had a sharp mind, he’d been hospitalized twice the previous year because he had forgotten to take his medicine. When she retired recently, she made the decision to sell her home in Dallas and move back here.
It didn’t take long to get reacquainted with former friends in Catalina Cove. Most of her classmates had moved elsewhere. Like her, they had left for college and never returned other than to visit loved ones during holidays.
Margie had always intended to return after college to work at the hospital here as a nurse practitioner. But then she’d met Ron and fallen in love. They had been married for thirty-five years, and they had been good years.
She went outside to the backyard to check on the plants in her father’s flower garden. Originally, it had been her mother’s garden and had been the pride of the cove, winning all kinds of awards at the Best of the Flowers Show held each spring.
After her mother’s death, her father had made it his life’s mission to keep the flowers as beautiful as her mother had. Lately, doing so had become a major challenge for him. He couldn’t get down on his knees like he used to do. But she knew this garden brought him a lot of joy and was filled with a lot of good memories for him.
On warmer days, he would often come out and sit on the bench and stare at the rows and rows of immaculate flowers of all kinds and colors. It was during those times that she knew he was probably remembering sitting in that same spot and watching her mother take care of the flowers.
It was only after losing Ron that she fully understood the loneliness her father had faced. Those times when she would call and he would tell her that he was okay, she now knew that he probably wasn’t really okay. But then, for the past three years after Ron’s death, hadn’t she said the same thing to her kids whenever they called to see how she was doing?
A half hour later she went inside to find both her father and Butterball in the kitchen. Her dad was sitting at the table reading one of those sales magazines with Butterball at his feet. Her father often told her how glad he was to have her home, and she’d tell him how glad she was to be here.
He had married her mother late in life and there had been a twelve-year difference in their ages. For years he’d said her mother had kept him young. Eventually, she believed him because just a few years after she died, he seemed to have aged tremendously.
These days, attending church was the only time he left the house, and his constant companion was Butterball. All of them were convinced that cat had more than nine lives. Butterball had to be at least twenty years old, if not older. Some days Margie thought the cat was slowing down and finally showing signs of his old age. Then on other days, he seemed just as spry as a cat half his age. That was when Butterball would take to roaming the neighborhood and disappear, only to have her father out during all hours of the night looking for him. Margie had always been fearful that someone would mistake her father for a burglar one of those times and—
The doorbell sounded. In a way, she was glad. She didn’t want to continue her train of thought. She’d only been back home a month and was grateful some of the neighbors and his church family checked on him periodically.
He’d often told her how his next-door neighbor, a young woman named Bryce Witherspoon, would also check on him and Butterball, and that she would frequently bring him meals from her family’s café. Although Bryce had gotten married and moved to the bayou, she still occasionally visited to make sure he was okay.
“It’s probably Pastor Dawkins,” her father said. “Sometimes he drops by to check on me.”
“That’s nice of him,” Margie said as she headed for the door.
“That’s what pastors are supposed to do,” was her father’s response.
She couldn’t help but smile. She was finding out that her father was speaking his mind a lot more these days. But she figured if you lived to be almost eighty-four, you’ve earned that right.
When she reached the door, she asked, “Who is it?”
“Levi Canady.”
She smiled upon opening the door. He was the nice man who’d helped to find her father and Butterball on Saturday night. Of course, her father had declared he had not been lost and hadn’t understood what all the fuss had been about.
“Levi, what a pleasant surprise,” she said, inviting him in. She hadn’t seen much of him that night because it had been dark, but today she could clearly see that Levi Canady was a very good-looking man. She’d known he was tall, but she hadn’t noticed the color of his eyes was a stunning shade of green or that the color of his skin was a coffee-bean brown.
“I just wanted to stop by to check on Mr. Chelsey to see how he’s doing and to bring him something that I picked up at the store earlier today.”
“Dad and Butterball are in the kitchen,” she said, leading the way.
When they reached the kitchen, her father looked up and she said, “Dad, you have a visitor and it’s not Pastor Dawkins.”
Her father actually smiled when he saw Levi. “Levi, how are you doing?” he asked warmly.
“I’m fine, thanks. I came by to bring you something I think might work whenever Butterball decides he wants to take a little stroll without you.”
“What is it?”
Levi pulled something out of the bag he was carrying. “This is a lighted collar. If you turn it on at night and Butterball gets out, it will make finding him easier because the collar lights up. And with this little remote here,” he said, showing the gadget he held in his hand, “it makes the collar flash as long as Butterball is within forty feet of you.”
“Well, I’ll be,” her father said, clearly fascinated. “Thanks, son. This is really nice, and it was kind of you to get it for me.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Dad and I were just about to eat lunch. Would you like to join us?” Margie asked.
“No, thank you. I took Chip into the vet for his regular checkup and now I’m on my way to work.”
“I want to again thank you, Levi, for helping me look for Dad the other night and—”
“You didn’t have to look for me, Margarita. I was not lost.”
Whenever her father used her full name, she knew he was not happy with her. “Oops,” she said, sharing a grin with Levi because the two of them knew better. “You are right, Dad. Sorry about that.”
Levi hid a grin and said, “I’ll be going now. Goodbye, Mr. Chelsey.”
“Goodbye, young man.”
“And I will see you out.” Margie led him from the kitchen.
When they reached the front door, Levi grinned and said, “I need to come by more often. I can’t remember the last time someone called me a young man.”
Margie laughed. “Compared to Dad you are a young man, and feel free to drop by anytime.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Again, she noted how tall he was. He had to be at least six-two, compared to her five-seven height. And he had a head full of hair with gray streaks at the temples. She was tempted to ask his age, but figured that wouldn’t be a nice thing to do. If she had to guess, she estimated he was maybe three or four years older than she was. However, he’d said that he cut her parents’ yard during the summer as a teen, which would make him older than that.
Another thing she noticed was that whenever he smiled, laugh lines appeared around his eyes and mouth, and they seemed to light up his entire face. No doubt about it, Levi Canady was a handsome man. The one thing her father had mentioned was that when Levi had been a cop, this area of town was his beat. Her father had also mentioned Levi was a widower. His wife had died a few years ago, but her father couldn’t recall what she’d died of.
“Goodbye, Margie.” He smiled, showing those laugh lines again.
She smiled back. “Goodbye, Levi.”
He was about to turn to leave, but then he said, “If you’re ever out and about, why don’t you drop by the Green Fig one day this week. We open for lunch and dinner, Mondays through Fridays, and just for lunch on Saturdays.”
She raised a brow. “The Green Fig?”
“Yes. It’s the restaurant where I work. It sells the most delicious soups you’ve ever tasted.”
“You cook for them?”
He shook his head, chuckling. “No. A young lady by the name of Sierra Crane does most of the cooking. She uses her grandmother’s recipes. I’m her assistant manager.”
Margie’s forehead bunched. “I remember some Cranes from years ago. I graduated with Sidney Crane.”
“That is her uncle. Her father’s younger brother. He’s living in Florida now. Sierra’s father, Preston, is a good friend of mine—my best friend, in fact. He and I finished school together. For years Preston managed the only gas station in town.”
“I remember Sidney’s older brother, Preston,” she said. “He began working at that gas station when he was still in high school.” And if she recalled, there was a seven-year difference in their ages. If Levi graduated with Preston Crane, did that mean Levi was about seven years older than she? If so, he definitely didn’t look it.
“You have a good memory,” Levi replied.
Margie thought Levi was friendly and easy to talk to. “I recall his mother, Ms. Ella Marie, too,” she said. “She used to make soup from her house and sell it in these cute containers that looked like kegs. I remember Mom and Dad buying her soup all the time. It was delicious.”
“Well, Ms. Ella Marie passed her soup recipes on to her granddaughter, and she came back to town a couple of years ago and opened the Green Fig Café, which specializes in all Ms. Ella Marie’s soups.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“We even put the take-out orders in those little kegs. Only thing, due to health department rules and restrictions that are now in place, we can’t use them for refills.”
“Thanks for telling me about the Green Fig, Levi. I might stop by one day this week.”
“I hope you do. Sierra and her husband, Vaughn, got married back in March and took a short honeymoon. They left yesterday for a longer one. As assistant manager, I’m in charge while she’s gone. That means I’ll be working longer hours for the next three weeks. I’ll be glad to see you again if you do drop by. Goodbye, Margie.”
“Goodbye, Levi.”
She closed the door and from the window she could see him walking down the sidewalk and noticed his slight limp. The nurse in her had picked up on it and wondered if it was due to an old injury. But then it just might be arthritis, or Father Arthur, as her dad liked to refer to it. That was one of the reasons she liked staying active and took walks every morning.
Margie smiled when she moved away from the door thinking she would make it a point to patronize the Green Fig one day this week like she’d told Levi she would do.