A Path Toward Love (3 page)

Her eyes were as welcoming as the sunshine, and his anxiety slid away. “I was wrong to interfere in your life, Katherine, giving you unwanted advice about Charles.” He knew he had to apologize, but under similar circumstances, he'd probably repeat the offense. After all, how could he, in good conscience, let her run off with his disreputable college classmate without trying to warn her? “I'm sorry we parted on such a sour note.”

Katherine nodded. “I'm sorry we didn't part on friendlier terms too, but that's water under the bridge. I accept your apology, of course. You should know I could never stay angry with you. We were best friends for too long.”

He'd never quite forgiven himself for causing a breach between them. “Thank you. I'm relieved.” Certainly he should've employed more tact instead of spurting out the unvarnished truth. For the entire trip south, he'd feared a chilly welcome. He cleared his throat. “I'm sorry about your loss—of Charles. That must've been a terrible blow.”

“It was a dreadful shock,” she said.

When she didn't elaborate further, he suspected Charles's death hurt too much to discuss—unless the marriage had turned out as horribly as he feared. He knew from society gossip that Charles had died within a week of contracting yellow fever.

She turned back to him wearing a bright smile that shut down further conversation about her deceased husband. “You must be famished. Would you care to join me for a snack and a cup of tea?” she asked.

“I'd like that.” He strolled beside her as they entered her cozy home styled with gingerbread trim, open porches, dormers, and half a dozen gables painted white. She rang for sweets from the kitchen along with afternoon tea. They wandered through sunny rooms until they arrived at the back veranda filled with potted plants and blooming red and yellow hibiscus. They dropped into wicker chairs set around a small table and waited only a few minutes for the cook to appear with an abundance of sponge cake, raspberry tarts, éclairs, and a silver pot of hot black tea.

“Would you mind if I took off my suit coat?” he asked as perspiration seeped around the edges of his tight collar.

“Go right ahead. Florida is dreadfully hot during the summer. It takes some getting used to.”

He hung the jacket over the back of the chair and loosened his tie. “I doubt if I'd ever get acclimated to the heat.” He lifted off his bowler and placed it on his lap.

Katherine tilted her head. “Of course you would. After a while even the unbearable seems normal.”

He stared at her, slowly nodding.

He was so happy to see Katherine again he couldn't pull his gaze from her stunning face, even shadowed as it was with weariness. Obviously she hadn't taken proper care of herself. But her smile was a beam of light. “Tell me, Andrew, what have you been doing since I left New York?” Katherine nibbled at the raspberry tart drizzled with melted chocolate.

“Me? Exactly as you might expect. I'm an attorney. About four years ago I started working for your father at his railroad. It's a challenging job, but very rewarding.”

“Mama never mentioned you worked for Papa.” Her delicate brow furrowed in confusion and she shook her head. “How odd.”

Not truly odd, Andrew surmised. Best friends since girlhood, Katherine's mother and his Aunt Georgia Clarke lived next door to each other in limestone mansions across the avenue from New York's Central Park. After his parents died of influenza twenty years before, Andrew had moved in with his aunt, uncle, and cousin Randy. But the older women had always conspired to bring Katherine and Randy together, hoping to build on their friendship.

Steepling his fingers, Andrew hesitated for a moment. “Katherine, if you don't mind my curiosity, may I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course, you can ask anything you wish.” But she didn't sound quite as positive as her words indicated. “What would you like to know?” The wicker chair squeaked as she shifted her weight.

“I often wondered why you didn't come home after Charles passed away.”

Her answer came so fast he wondered if she'd prepared it earlier. “Mama wanted me to move back to New York, but I decided to stay and see the groves thrive once again, just as they had in Charles's father's day. Unfortunately, Charles didn't tend to business as well as he should have, so we've had some significant hurdles to cross. I wanted to restore the groves, and the business. It's as simple as that.”

Nothing was as simple as it appeared, and Andrew suspected Katherine's explanation was only part of the story. Mr. Wainwright had heard from his Florida contacts that Charles Osborne had destroyed his business through poor stewardship, and he'd left Katherine with little money and a company in disarray.

He cocked an eyebrow, unable to hide a sardonic grin. “Do you enjoy managing the citrus groves? Or doesn't business suit you?”

She flicked a dry smile. “I was trained to become a wife, a mother, and a hostess. I can put together a menu and organize a ball. But I quickly discovered I could do much more, here at Osborne Citrus Groves. I'm still learning more every day. I love much of it.”

Andrew couldn't help but admire such pluck. “But you don't need to work.”

Katherine smiled. “Not if I'd turn tail and head home to Mama. I suspect no one in my family wants me to do
a man's job
. But I truly like to grow and harvest our fruit. I love working with people and selling a good product.” She laughed self-consciously at her enthusiasm. “Actually, it's much more than that. When I first came to Buena Vista, Charles's father was so welcoming, I loved him instantly. He passed on a year later, but I'll always remember his zeal for the groves and his desire to bring them back to health. I'm partly doing this for him, at least as a memorial to him. Do you think me sentimental?”

“Not at all.” Yet her answer left Andrew with a few questions. Katherine enjoyed the work and wanted to make the groves prosperous for Charles's father. Why didn't she want to do it in memory of Charles as well? Maybe his assumption about their marriage was correct.

Katherine leaned across the table and took his hands. The warmth of her palms shot up and down his arms, and in consternation, he felt a fiery flush to his cheeks. Even a cool breeze didn't lower the heat rising from his neck into his face. But Katherine didn't seem to notice. Her eyes glistened as her glance swept across the lawn to the orange groves.

“I'm hopeful we're on the verge of making a real comeback, Andrew.” She dropped his hands and took a sip of tea. She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling, although not in the least flirtatious. “I'm doing this for the workers too. Those here in the house as well as in the groves. Even those who come for the harvest. They're like family to me, and they depend on this business to survive.”

Andrew nodded. “I see.” He looked away, out toward the trees, so his eyes wouldn't betray him. Her love of the land and the business would make her father's task that much more difficult. Undoubtedly, they were in for a battle.

Chapter Two

S
itting this close to Andrew was surprisingly hard. Even with the tiny table between them, she could still smell the scent of bay rum. Not long after Charles had died, she remembered walking through the marketplace. There in the narrow aisles of one of the shops, a man passed by and his cologne wafted around her. She'd stopped, held her breath, and let the scent flood her heart with memories of home and of Andrew.

Today, as she listened to Andrew, she remembered how thoughts of him had invaded her mind many times throughout the two years since Charles had died. Maybe he was there only because she was lonely and he was someone who'd been a good friend to her, someone who understood her. Or maybe he filled her mind because she knew she'd missed the opportunity to allow their friendship to grow into something more serious.

Pushing aside that silly notion, she ate her sweets, slipping into easy conversation with him as they had done in their early years, and let the worries of the citrus groves and finances and possible financial ruin slide off her shoulders. Andrew always eased her concerns.

She wondered how she looked in his eyes. Did he merely see her as tired and part of whatever task her father had assigned him—or did he see her as the companion she'd been years ago?

He looked older now, more distinguished than she remembered. His mouth lifted slightly at one corner as if he were enjoying an amusing thought he seemed reticent to share. His eyes sometimes sparked and sometimes sparkled, hinting at opinions locked inside an active mind. When they were young she'd tried to probe his thoughts to see what made him so intriguing, but he seldom revealed himself. He was warm and aloof at the same time.

After Andrew retired to his bedroom for the night, Katherine led Papa out to the side terrace. Since Andrew had remained stubbornly close-mouthed about it, perhaps she could discover why Papa had come to Florida now. As she gently rocked on the porch swing, he lit a Cuban cigar and sipped his brandy in the dusky light.

“You've got a beautiful place here,” he conceded. “It's a shame you're so far from us. We miss you.”

She reached over and patted his hand. “I've missed you too, Papa.”

As the sun slipped toward the treetops planted in even rows up the hillside, she waited for him to end the small talk and broach the subject he'd come here to discuss. Her shoulders stiffened. She couldn't relax until they talked over the purpose of his visit and she convinced him she belonged here.

A smoke ring curled around his head. He mopped perspiration from his brow. “I suppose your mama and I are selfish, but we want you to come home. That doesn't surprise you, does it? It was one thing for you to live more than fifteen hundred miles away when you were married. But now that you're a widow, we don't understand what's keeping you in Florida. Your real home is in New York with your family.” His eyes pleaded with her.

Now she understood. He came here to escort her home to her former life. In her parents' eyes, she could resume her role as pampered daughter and a widow in search of a suitable husband.

Sadness and elation collided within her. Could she ever return to her place in society, and did she even wish to? Would she be accepted for who she was or would she be ridiculed for marrying a disreputable man?

She glanced toward the groves that had become her life. Could she leave Buena Vista, the land she'd grown to love? And more importantly, could she once again become the obedient daughter after living independently for so long?

“Katherine,” her father said, gently, nudging her for a response.

“If only I could be in two places at once,” she said softly. “But I can't, so I have to choose where I'm truly meant to be.”

“And?”

The apprehension in his tone made her flinch. “I'm so sorry to disappoint you, but I have to stay here. My heart is here now, as much as I long for you and Mama. Buena Vista is my home and I have a responsibility toward the people who work here. Surely you must appreciate that.”

Papa nodded. “I do. I have hundreds, even thousands of railroad workers who rely on me. So I know what you feel for them.” He swirled the brandy in the snifter. “You have a tender heart, Katherine, and that's something special. But perhaps we could find someone else who'd love to make a go of it here, someone with more experience. Maybe a local.”