Chapter 4 #3
The leather summer loafers he wore probably cost more than my rent, but he wasn’t showing them off, I could tell.
Old money carried wealth with effortless indifference that eluded those who were new to luxury and extravagance.
Being a barista wasn’t my ideal job, but it certainly had given me the opportunity to observe all kinds of people.
“How did you meet my father?” Whit asked abruptly.
From the flowerbed, the shovel scraped stone, the sound a tinny rasp.
“Oh…uh…” I hesitated, not sure what all I should share. “He’d been a regular at the coffee shop where I was working, so I’d seen him a lot. But we didn’t really start talking until the day my mom threw me out for getting pregnant with Henry.”
“Hmmm.” That was it. Just that little musing sound. I wondered if there was more he wanted to say, but when he didn’t, I continued.
“I was in a panic about where I was going to live, what I was going to do,” I told him. “But I didn’t have any time off—and I clearly was going to need every penny—so I was at work, trying to keep from crying. I wasn’t very successful. Mr. Monty asked me if I was okay, and I lost it.”
He nodded as if understanding what I was saying. But for all his ease with me then, he still struck me as someone with carefully guarded secrets.
“Mr. Monty immediately asked my manager to excuse me from work,” I continued, “offered to pay for my missed wages, and asked me to join him for breakfast so he could hear the rest of the story and offer me privacy from my co-workers.” I laughed a little and shook my head.
“I was so upset and feeling so hopeless, I didn’t even think about the fact that I could’ve been getting in the car with some predator. ”
Whit turned his attention to where the kids were playing and simply said, “Indeed.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of his commentary, so I continued.
“Mr. Monty was so kind to me, so caring. He told me I could stay at one of his properties, that I could move in that very evening. He would’ve done much more for me, I’m sure, if I’d asked, but I’m not someone who takes advantage of the people who give me a chance, Mr. Proffitt. ”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “I admit, I had my doubts when I first heard about you. I actually thought he might be the father of your son.”
“You can’t be serious!” I cried, louder than I’d intended. Henry and Addie lifted their heads from their play in surprise. I smiled and waved to assure them everything was fine and then said more quietly through clenched teeth, “What the hell are you talking about?”
“My father had a habit of collecting damaged young women, Ms. Dupont,” Whit explained. “He was quick to come to the rescue of vulnerable women and then marry them. I suspected that my father intended for you to be the next Mrs. Proffitt.”
I shook my head, refusing to allow this man I barely knew to tarnish the gilded image I held of his father. “No,” I said, leaving no room for him to argue. “Mr. Monty wasn’t like that. He was my guardian angel.”
“My father was no angel,” Whit assured me, speaking the words like they left a disgusting taste in his mouth. “And I don’t know you, Ms. Dupont. Not really.”
“Well, I’m not the kind of person who would sleep with my landlord just to get a sweet deal on my rent, Mr. Proffitt.
” A tremor ran through me, but my voice stayed even.
“So, if that’s what you were expecting when you offered for me to move into Dawes House, you can fuck right off. And I’ll be out by morning.”
I stood, intending to storm off with Henry and never look back, but Whit caught my fingers, gently, yet firmly enough to startle me.
“Ms. Dupont—” The pressure on my fingers increased ever so slightly.
“—please don’t go. I didn’t mean…” He exhaled in a frustrated huff.
“You might’ve noticed I’ve got a talent for saying exactly the wrong thing.
I’m sorry for implying that you could be taking advantage of my father.
If anything, I’d put the blame on him for taking advantage of you. ”
His gaze drifted from my face, down my arm to my fingertips where his thumb brushed my skin. Then, as if he’d forgotten he was still holding them, he abruptly let go and cleared his throat, shifting away on the bench so that he was no longer looking at me at all.
I studied him, trying to understand what it was that had just passed between us. My skin was oddly cold without his touch. I sat back down. For a while, we sat without saying a word, listening to Henry and Addie’s chatter, a chorus of bullfrogs joining them from near the pond.
“I wish you would call me Whit,” he said abruptly.
I was taken aback by the request. “Uh…okay. Sure. And you can call me Zellie. No need to be formal. I mean, you can’t be that much older than I am.”
He didn’t respond, taking cover behind that stony mask again. When he finally spoke, the topic wasn’t at all what I expected.
“My father was obsessed with his legacy,” Whit said.
“He was fixated on having children. I’m the only son still living and not exactly the heir he imagined.
That’s why I thought…what I thought. I’ve had quite a few stepmothers, Zellie.
But after meeting you and hearing your side of things, I think perhaps my father saw something in you that reminded him of someone else he knew once.
You even look like her a bit, except her hair was darker, didn’t have any of the red in it that yours does. ”
“Mr. Monty never mentioned anyone,” I told him. “What happened to her?”
“She took her life when she discovered she was pregnant,” Whit said, his tone flat, matter of fact.
“Oh, my God,” I gasped. “I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t ask for any additional details and Whit didn’t offer them. It was none of my business. Monty’s motivations—for helping me or for marrying however many women he’d married—were his own. I wasn’t there to judge.
I thought about my own life as we sat there in silence, listening to the peaceful sounds of the spring evening, watching the lightning bugs begin their nightly dance as the sun sank lower.
How different things might have been had I lived in a different time. The desperation that Mr. Monty’s friend? sister? lover? must’ve felt to resort to something so extreme… I’d chosen to keep Henry when I found out I was pregnant. But I’d had a choice—at least at that point.
“My mother threw me out when I got pregnant,” I told him. “I tarnished her image with her church friends. She called me a sinner, a whore. Demanded to know who the father was.”
“Did the father not offer to help you?” Whit asked.
I shook my head. “He didn’t know. I…”
I shifted a little, not sure why I was sharing so much when I still barely knew Whit, had no idea if he’d judge me like others had.
Maybe it was the quiet of the evening, the peacefulness that surrounded me there in the garden, peace that had eluded me my entire life.
Whatever the reason, the words came out as easily as if I was talking to a trusted friend.
“I didn’t know his name. A one-night stand—which isn’t my style, by the way. I don’t remember the details, can’t really even tell you what he looked like. But I know he was wonderful. Tender. Kind. And for that one night, I loved him intensely.”
Whit stared at me, a range of just barely noticeable expressions washing over his face as if he didn’t know what to say.
I laughed a little, embarrassed at waxing poetic. “Sorry—I’ve been reading too much from the Romantic period, which isn’t romantic at all. It’s mostly tragic really.”
He tilted his head, curious. “The Romantic period?”
I shrugged. “Books, poetry… It’s probably my favorite literary period.” I noticed his surprised expression and added, “Might come as a shock to you, Whit, but even us poor folks can read.”
“Well, you sure do have a way of making me feel like I need a crowbar to pry this foot out of my mouth,” he replied, shaking his head with a laugh. “Zellie, I think you might be just the one to keep me humble.”
I lifted a brow at him. “Happy to oblige. Any other ways I can cut you down to size?”
He held up his hands as if warding off my attack. “No, no! I think that’s enough for one night!”
We grinned at each other until the intensity of his gaze brought warmth to my cheeks, and I looked away. Was I seriously flirting with him? After just swearing up and down that I wasn’t about to sleep with him to get a break on my rent? Way to reinforce that message.
Time to call it a night.
“Henry!” I called. “It’s time to go in, baby!”
Henry and Addie both shouted a long, melodramatic, “Nooo!”
“Adelaide, you listen to Ms. Zellie,” Whit said, his tone gentle but firm.
Addie mumbled a resigned “Yes, sir” before brushing her curls out of her face, leaving a muddy streak across her forehead. I smothered a grin, deciding I already adored the quirky little girl.
The kids jogged over to us, Henry lagging a little behind, panting heavier than I liked.
Yeah, definitely time to go.
I stood and lifted him up on my hip. “I’m sure you’ll see Addie again soon,” I promised, smoothing his curls, damp from the humidity. “Now, tell Addie and Mr. Proffitt goodnight.”
“Bye, Addie,” Henry said, stifling a yawn. Then he held out a hand to Whit. “Goodnight, Mr. Proffitt.”
Whit solemnly shook his hand. “Goodnight, Henry. I hope we get the chance to see each other again soon.”
Whit held open the door, but I paused before stepping inside. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if Mr. Monty hadn’t helped me.”
Whit studied me for a moment before saying, “I have no doubt you’d have figured out something.”
“Maybe,” I said softly. “But I think you might be more like your father than you realize.”
“I’m no saint, Zellie,” Whit insisted, something in his voice telling me that was half confession, half promise.
He stood so close I could feel the heat of him warming the space between us.
I looked up into his eyes—dark, hypnotic—and something inside me tightened in a way I hadn’t experienced in years.
I realized I actually liked this quiet, mysterious man.
More than liked him. And the pull between us was undeniable, palpable. And dangerous.
If Henry and Addie hadn’t been there, if the murmur of voices from the game room hadn’t cut across the moment, I don’t know how the night might’ve ended. And judging by the way he looked at me, he felt the same.
I drew in a steadying breath, gathering the scent of the evening air into my lungs, focusing on that instead of the nearness of Whit Proffitt, and forced myself to turn away.
When we stepped inside, conversation halted and several curious faces turned to us.
Merilee was among them now, I noticed. Her knowing grin grew, and she winked—at me or at Whit, I couldn’t tell.
I cleared my throat and smiled politely. “Thank you all for such a warm welcome. And, Chase, thank you for organizing this. It was wonderful. I’m really happy to be here. But if you’ll excuse me, I need to get this little guy to bed.”
Everyone burst into cheerful chatter and goodnights. Pearlie wrapped me in a motherly hug and ordered me to come see her if I needed anything.
As I carried Henry toward the elevator, I let the warmth of my new home envelop me. But beneath it, Pearlie’s words echoed, raising questions I wasn’t ready to ask just then.
She’ll do just fine…