Chapter 15
On the drive back to the hotel the next morning, the light over Charleston was soft and golden. Cadie sat in the passenger seat and watched the city pass by. She rolled her window down an inch to let the breeze carry in the faint scent of the harbor, then turned to look at Barrett.
He was focused on the road, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the console between them. She noted that he appeared content. The light caught the silver at his temples and the strong line of his profile, and Cadie felt such love for him.
Yesterday had been one of the most beautiful days of her life.
Barrett had given her the date they never had in high school, and he had done it with such care and attention.
And after the candlelit dinner at Peninsula Grill, she'd had the night alone with him at the inn.
Cadie held the memory of the private hours they had spent together.
The intimacy was real, unhurried and tender.
She'd given of herself without reservation, and Barrett had responded in kind.
She had no doubt that Barrett was the only man for her. But that didn't mean everything would work out.
Cadie turned back to the window and watched the storefronts slide past as Barrett drove. Reality had reentered sometime during the drive, overshadowing the happiness.
She loved Barrett enough that she did not want him to feel forced to commit to her. He had already vowed his love at dinner, and she believed him. But words spoken over candlelight and wine, in the glow of a perfect day, may not translate into real life.
Her career was in New Orleans. Her band, her friendships, her apartment, her entire professional life existed in a different state from where Barrett lived and worked.
Neither of them had spoken about logistics, or how two people with established lives in different states might find a way forward.
And Cadie had not brought it up because she didn't want to break the spell of what they had shared.
No matter what happened, she would remember Barrett's love. The memories would sustain her regardless of what the future held. She was grateful for every moment, and she would carry those moments with her wherever she went. But she wisely kept her expectations low.
The truth was that Barrett could leave again, and he probably would.
Not because he didn't love her. When he'd left for the Navy all those years ago, she had taken it personally, as though his leaving was a rejection of her rather than a young man answering a call that was larger than either of them.
She had been immature, and the resentment she had nursed for years was born out of a failure to understand that Barrett's choice had never been about not wanting her.
He reached over without looking and placed his hand on hers. Cadie laced her fingers through his and held on.
When they reached the hotel, Barrett pulled into the parking area and walked Cadie to her rental car. He leaned against the driver's door. "I have a meeting with Detective Sullivan," he said. "He wants to go over a few things."
"As I mentioned, I'm going to Boone Properties to check out my options," Cadie said.
Barrett studied her face. "You're sure you don't want me to go with you?"
"No, I'll be fine," Cadie said. "My aunt knew him, so I want to talk with him about a viable resolution for Stratton House."
Barrett put his palm on her cheek and kissed her. The kiss was gentle and warm, and Cadie closed her eyes, wanting it to last.
He ran his thumb over her cheekbone. "My meeting shouldn't go too long," he said. "Text when you're done and we'll meet up."
Barrett gave her one last look, then turned and walked to his car. Cadie watched him open his door and slide behind the wheel then pull out of the lot. His car disappeared around the corner, and she wondered what the future held.
Then she got into her car and started the engine. On the way to Boone Properties, Cadie spotted a coffee shop with a drive-through lane and pulled in. She wanted to regain her composure before the meeting.
At the window, she ordered a medium latte then pulled into one of the small parking spaces beside the building. She needed to talk to Genevieve, so she took out her phone and called.
It rang twice before Genevieve picked up. "Well, there you are," she said, and the warmth in her voice made Cadie smile. "I was starting to think Charleston swallowed you whole."
"Not yet," Cadie said. "But it's been trying."
"Tell me everything," Genevieve said.
Cadie leaned back in the driver's seat and brought Genevieve up to date on the investigation. She proceeded to tell her the highlights of the day with Barrett, and the night at Planter's Inn. Although she kept the intimate details private, she revealed that the relationship had deepened.
After a beat, Genevieve said, "I'm so happy for you and Barrett."
Cadie picked up her latte and took a sip. "It's not necessarily like that. We haven't made plans for the future." She heard sounds in the background, probably the band preparing for rehearsal.
Then Genevieve said, "What about Stratton House?"
Cadie was grateful for the shift. "When I came to my father's funeral a few years ago, my aunt mentioned Boone Properties," Cadie said. "I'd forgotten about it until recently."
"Why is that important?" Genevieve said.
"She knew Jaxon Boone, the owner," Cadie said. "And she seemed to think highly of him, because he was dedicated to renovating historical buildings in Charleston. She mentioned his name more than once, and I remember thinking at the time that she trusted him."
"Talking to him is a good idea."
"Yes, I thought so," Cadie said. "I haven't thought about it until now, with everything that's been going on.
But it came back to me, and it feels like the right direction.
I'll need to learn the details of what he could offer, but I think there might be a way to preserve the building without my direct management. "
"You're not planning to stay there and do it yourself?"
"I don't think that's a good idea," Cadie said. "It's not what I'm good at."
Genevieve expelled a breath. "I know what you're good at…and we miss you," she said. "Plus, I want to make a few changes with the band. I'd love for you to do more solos. I was pretty impressed with some of the stuff you were doing before you left."
Cadie hadn't expected that but was pleased. "I'll be home as soon as I can."
"Great to hear," Genevieve said, "because I'm already working on the setlist, and there's a spot with your name on it."
After the call, Cadie took a few minutes to finish her latte. The conversation had steadied her. Her friends and bandmates were waiting in New Orleans. It was reassuring to know she had Genevieve's support and new potential playing blues on the piano—her life's passion.
*****
Boone Properties occupied a handsome brick building.
The facade was well maintained, with large windows framed by dark green shutters, and a brass plaque beside the entrance that read, Boone Properties, Historic Restoration and Preservation.
The building itself looked as though it had been lovingly restored, which Cadie took as a good sign.
A company that cared about its own headquarters would likely care about the buildings it acquired.
She parked on the street and stepped out into the warm morning air, then smoothed the front of her blouse and took a breath.
She felt more positive than she had in days, more grounded and more certain about the direction she wanted to take.
The conversation with Genevieve had reminded her of who she was and where she belonged, and the prospect of meeting with someone her aunt had trusted gave her hope that Stratton House could be placed in good hands.
Cadie walked through the front door and into a reception area that was tastefully decorated with photographs of Charleston's historic architecture.
A young woman at the reception desk looked up and smiled. "Good morning," she said. "May I help you?"
"I have a meeting with Jaxon Boone. My name is Cadie Ladd."
The woman checked her screen. "Of course, Ms. Ladd. He's expecting you. I'll let him know you're here."
Cadie took a seat in one of the leather chairs near the window and folded her hands in her lap.
Through the glass she could see the sunlit street and the old buildings lining the block, each one a piece of Charleston's history that someone had chosen to preserve rather than tear down.
Her aunt had cared about that kind of legacy.
Celia Ann had spent her life in this city, loving its history and the beauty of its architecture.
She'd wanted Stratton House to endure long after she was gone.
Cadie intended to honor that wish.
She did not know yet what Jaxon would propose, or what the details of a sale or partnership might look like.
But she had a feeling that she was in the right place.
And for the first time since arriving in Charleston, the question of what to do with Stratton House felt less like a burden and more like an opportunity to do something meaningful.