Chapter Three #3
The candle was burning low and the rain continued to patter on the tin roof, a mild drumming that was a soothing white noise. Devlin poured more of the champagne into their glasses, then put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Are you really okay with the kitten?”
“It means a bit more work. But I couldn’t refuse. My lonely, remote, difficult-to-touch son was just cuddling that kitten. He was hugging it!” Dora sipped her wine. “That’s a first. To see him love like that meant the world to me. Of course I’m okay with it.”
“I thought it might. But, hey, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll take the kitten. Seems only fair.”
Dora set her elbows on the table and leaned toward Devlin. “So tell me.”
Devlin swirled the wine in his glass. “Well, you know I’ve been looking for a rescue dog.
So I go to the pound from time to time, to see if one speaks to me.
Last week I took young Nate with me. He was curious and wanted to go.
There we were walking around and looking.
Truth be told, I was hoping he’d find some dog he liked and I could get that one.
But what happens? I turn around and find him squattin’ down in front of a kennel filled with a litter of kittens staring like a coon dog on the scent.
He was smitten, I could tell. I tried to persuade him to come see the dogs, but you know Nate when he’s got his mind made up.
He wanted a kitten. Period. And not just any kitten.
There was a black one, a gray one, and a gray-and-white-striped one.
All furry and bright eyed, one cuter than the other.
But he had his eyes set on that there calico. ”
“So you asked the attendant to let him hold it.”
“Sure I did. I couldn’t refuse. I was a mite worried, him being so skittish and all about touching.
The minute he held the kitten in his arms, he started petting it.
And that kitten just sat there and licked his fingers.
I knew he had to have it. I saw what you just saw, and I’m not ashamed to tell you I had tears in my eyes. ”
Dora reached out across the table and took his hand in hers. She squeezed it tight. “Thank you.”
“Yeah.” Leaning back, he crossed his boot over his knee and gave a sorry shake of his head. “But I’m still lookin’ for a dog.”
Dora picked up her wineglass and leaned back in her chair. “Maybe I should return the favor and find you a dog.”
“No, ma’am. A man’s got to choose his own dog.”
“Is that some unwritten code in the world of men?”
“It is for a lowcountry man.”
“I see.” She rolled her tongue in her cheek. “Well, just remember that you’re responsible for my gift,” she said, exaggerating the word gift. “And you’re also my landlord. So I don’t want to hear one peep from you about litter-box smells or accidents on the carpet.”
He laughed his low, rumbling laugh. “I know, I know.” He paused to swallow a long drink from his wineglass. “That brings up another subject. Hear me out before you jump to conclusions, okay?” He looked at her, demanding an answer.
His tone had changed. She could tell that he was a bit nervous and it wasn’t about the kitten. “Okay, you’ve got my attention.”
“Good. Real good.” He set his glass on the table and left his hand there, his fingers drumming. “You remember how we arranged things for this cottage. I told you I’d have to put the house on the market when things picked up.”
Dora froze.
“Well, this spring things have really picked up. The market’s good. Especially for a house on the creek.”
Dora’s heart beat harder, fearing where this was headed. “You’re selling the house?”
“I might have to.”
“Oh.” She felt all the joy of the evening fizzle.
“Honey, I have no choice. I’m carrying a lot right now after a slow season, including two houses.
This one and the one I’m living in. Oceanfront usually sells good, but the price on my place is a lot higher than this one and the damn beach is eroding.
Dora, the simple fact is I can only afford to keep one. One has to go.”
Dora wrapped her arms across her chest. She’d known the day would come that this cottage would have to be sold. Her rent didn’t nearly cover the mortgage. It had all been arranged from the start. But the thought of losing it . . .
“I’ll buy it.”
Devlin’s face softened. “You can’t afford it, baby.”
As much as it hurt to hear, Dora knew that was true but had to ask. She found her voice. “Can I pay a higher rent? At least until I sell my house in Summerville? I could give you a down payment then.”
“I don’t want to do that to you. You’re stretched so thin as it is.”
She looked out the window. The night was dark and rainy, but in her mind’s eye she could see the grassy slope to the salt marsh, the long wooden dock that stretched far out into the creek.
All her dreams for this place were like driftwood, caught in the racing tide.
She chewed her lip, lest she burst into tears.
Devlin reached out and took her hand. “Hear me out, now,” he said, gently reminding her of her promise. “See, then I thought . . . if we moved in together, it wouldn’t be an issue. We’d sell one, but still keep one. Together.”
“Dev,” she said near tears. “You know we can’t live together. Not with Nate. The scandal . . .” She didn’t need to elaborate. This was still a small, old-fashioned town at heart, and gossips would reach his school eventually. Kids could be cruel.
Devlin sat for a moment looking at her hand, playing with her fingers. Longer than normal.
Dora was attuned to a subtle shift of mood. She waited, breath held. He lifted her left hand and held it in his, letting his fingers stroke her ring finger. Then Devlin reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small black velveteen box and set it on the table in front of her.