More to Give (6 page)

“My anger was always reserved for Josh, though a good dose of it was toward myself.” Callie turned to swipe a mug from the cupboard behind her. “I ignored what was right in front of me, believing that if I tried hard enough, I could make Josh happy.”

Henri stepped forward, taking the mug from Callie’s cold fingers. “You and I both know nothing that happened back then was your fault. Josh didn’t have an affair with Meredith because you weren’t enough. He’s the one who wasn’t enough.”

“Maybe
you
should be a therapist,” Callie said, feeling better, as she always did when Henri was around. “Knowing that and believing it are two different things.”

“You still didn’t answer my first question.” Henri poured coffee into the mug that Callie had pulled from the cupboard. “How do you feel about Sam now?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I mean, there’s an attraction.”

This time Henri snorted. “You’d have to be dead or gay not to be attracted to that. I’m gay and I still felt a little quiver when he showed up in the driveway.”

Henri always could make her laugh, no matter what was going on. “I’m sure he’d be flattered to hear that. I was going to use that mug for tea, but I guess I’ll get another one.”

“I spent nine hours traveling alone with your mother today,” Henri said. “You’re lucky this isn’t rum instead of coffee.”

“Fair enough,” Callie said, closing the cupboard she’d opened. “There’s a bar and grill in the village. I bet they have amazing seafood.”

“Sounds good to me.” Henri took another swig of coffee and scrunched up her face. “I forgot Aunt Evelyn made this. Does she carry tar in that Kate Spade purse of hers?”

“I think it’s ground coal.”

Henri poured the coffee into the sink. “I would not be surprised. Now, let’s go find me some alcohol. You’re buying.”

Following her cousin back toward the living room, Callie said, “It’s the least I can do.”

CHAPTER 6

T
he jukebox was playing Bob Marley and the Wailers as Callie, her mom, and Henri walked through the entrance of Dempsey’s Bar & Grill. A combination of gleaming dark wood, soaring wood beams, and picture windows, the place was both fancier and more interesting than Callie had expected. There was also quite a crowd for so late in the season.

If this was the crowd in late September, she couldn’t help but wonder what the place would look like in the heart of July.

“Give me two seconds, ladies, and I’ll be right with you,” said a young, dark-haired waitress as she breezed by, carrying a tray full of drinks as if it weighed no more than a feather.

Standing beside Callie, Henri watched the pretty girl walk away in her denim shorts, which showed a significant amount of leg. “I like this place already.”

Callie leaned close enough to whisper, “You know my mother will have a conniption if she has to witness you hitting on a woman. I’m not sure I could endure one of her fits tonight.”

“Relax,” Henri said, watching a tall, blonde waitress stroll through the middle of the room. “I’m sightseeing. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do on vacation?”

Callie glanced her way with one brow raised.

“I’ll behave,” Henri promised. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a Girl Scout.”

“No, but I like their cookies.”

“Hi there,” said the brunette as she stepped up to the podium before them. “Sorry for the wait. Welcome to Dempsey’s. Are we looking for a booth or a table tonight?”

“A booth,” Callie and Henri said in unison.

The waitress smiled, grabbed three menus, along with three sets of silverware wrapped in white napkins, and headed for the wall of windows to the far right. “Here you go,” she said, dropping the menus and silverware onto a table in the center of the wall. “Daisy will be your server, and she’ll be with you in just a minute.”

“Thank you,” said Callie, climbing in to allow her mother to sit on the end.

“Enjoy your meal,” the waitress said, then disappeared into the crowd.

The group focused their attention on the menus in front of them. Evelyn flipped the pages with the tips of her fingers as if she might catch a germ. She looked uncomfortable and unhappy, but then, Callie’s mother always looked that way. Unless she was at her country club, and even then she was usually glaring disapprovingly at another woman who had the nerve not to match her shoes with her handbag.

Callie had given up trying to please her mother long ago, which made ignoring her distaste for their choice of restaurant a matter of habit.

“At least they have a large selection,” Evelyn said, a thin line of tolerance in her voice. “I would assume the seafood is fresh. Now let’s hope someone in that kitchen knows how to cook it.”

“I doubt this crowd is here because the food sucks, Aunt Evelyn.”

“Using vulgar language makes you sound vulgar, Henrietta. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“Maybe a couple hundred more and it’ll sink in, Aunty.”

Callie cringed. The only thing her mother hated more than Henri’s language was being called Aunty. Instead of arguing, Evelyn gave Henri what she called the cut. She huffed, kept her eyes down, and pretended her irritating niece was no longer there.

By all accounts, Evelyn Henderson had been born in the wrong century. She’d also been born into the wrong family, considering she was a sharecropper’s daughter and not the child of a powerful politician. So she’d simply married one to change her circumstances.

Unfortunately, Callie’s father had died of a heart attack less than a year after his daughter’s birth, leaving Evelyn as a single mother with grand aspirations and no way to reach them except to groom her child to be the first female president. Needless to say, Callie had turned out to be a disappointment in all areas.

Evelyn had remarried twice before Callie’s twenty-first birthday and stood stoic in black as she watched each husband get lowered six feet into the ground. Unwilling to take another chance, the professional widow had avoided a walk down the aisle for the last ten years. Callie almost wished her mother would find another husband so she’d have something else to focus on besides her disappointing offspring.

“I think I’ll have a burger,” Callie said.

“You should stick with a salad, dear,” replied her mother. “Your jeans are looking tighter than usual.”

The cousins exchanged a look, and Callie sighed, counting the hours until Saturday morning, when this little visit would come to a blessed end.

She could not wait.

Sam had found that the shower and aged liquor weren’t enough to get him through the evening and turned to physical exertion. Not the kind he’d have preferred, as he reminded himself for what must have been the tenth time that he was not crossing that line with Callie.

Again.

Instead, he’d made the trek to Island Fitness for a good workout. He vowed to continue doing sit-ups until the image of Callie occupying his bed was burned from his system. He’d counted past one hundred when Randy Navarro joined him at the weight bench.

“You going for a record?” Randy asked, sporting an enormous grin that matched the rest of him.

Roughly the size of a large building, the gym owner matched Sam in height but had him beat in every other area. Arms the size of Sam’s thighs. Shoulders broad enough to block out the fluorescent lights shining down from the ceiling.

Sam removed his legs from the barbell, dropped his feet to the floor, and sat up on the bench, accepting the towel Randy offered. “Going for a clear head is all.”

Sweat dripped from a lock of dark hair dangling over Randy’s brow. “Anything I can help with?”

Unless the man could exorcise demons or conjure up a time machine, there was little he could do. “Afraid not, but thanks for the offer.”

Of all the people he’d met on Anchor Island, Randy Navarro was probably the closest Sam had to a friend. The men worked on a committee together to increase tourism on the island, and it hadn’t taken long for Sam to realize that not liking the big man was simply impossible.

Whereas his size could seem intimidating, the personality was all friendly concern and generosity. Which were likely the reasons he’d landed the mysterious heiress from the north.

That and the biceps.

“Will came to see me yesterday. She seemed a bit . . . wired.”

“Let me guess,” Randy said. “She was drinking coffee.”

“Yvonne gave her some when she arrived at the hotel.” There was no reason to take credit for providing Will with the caffeine fix. Especially if her large and protective fiancé didn’t want her to have it.

Randy shook his head as he wiped the sweat away with his own towel. “Will is good at looking calm on the outside, but she’s more high-strung than you’d think. I thought cutting out the caffeine would help calm her nerves.” The men crossed the workout area to reach the locker room. Randy let Sam enter first. “Which is looking like a miscalculation on my part.”

“Once she gets her legs under her with this business, I’m sure things will level out.”

“About that,” Randy said, dropping onto the edge of a bench that ran between two rows of lockers. “She mentioned this wedding coming up at your place before Christmas.”

“That’s right. We talked about it yesterday.”

“Well . . .” Randy rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s worried the place won’t be done in time. I told her that if you said it would be done, it’ll be done, but are you sure? If she can’t deliver on a deal this early, that’s going to look really bad for a new business.”

Sam didn’t like being questioned, though he understood Randy’s motivations. Will was important to him, and that meant Randy would do whatever he had to do to make sure she succeeded.

“The Sunset Harbor Inn will be renovated and ready for business in time for the wedding. I’ve already given Will my word on that, and I’ll give it to you as well.” Randy seemed to exhale and Sam added, “I wouldn’t question your business integrity. I’d appreciate the same in return.”

Randy’s nostrils flared as his brown eyes darkened. Sam was no slouch, but he knew this man could likely stomp him into dust if he wanted. That didn’t mean Sam would back down or tolerate having his word doubted.

Several tense seconds passed, before Randy nodded. “Point taken.” He tossed the towel over his shoulder. “But don’t hesitate to let me know if I can help in any way.”

So, Randy was willing to accept his word but still do whatever was necessary to make sure Will wasn’t disappointed. Fair enough.

“Will do,” Sam said, strolling past the larger man to reach his locker.

“There’s no limit to what I’d do for Will,” Randy said. “I’m sure you understand.”

The words reminded Sam of the limits of what he’d been willing to do for Meredith.

With a nod, he pulled a shaving kit from his locker and headed for the showers.

The daunting task of turning the run-down, ramshackle Sunset Harbor Inn into a stylish and modern boutique hotel in record time couldn’t compete with the struggle of having to live with Callie’s mother, even if for only a few days.

Callie could not get to work early enough when the alternative was running into Evelyn Henderson at the coffeemaker. The evening before had been filled with sighs, backward insults, and a temper tantrum her mother would term her way of expressing her sensitive and stepped-on feelings. If only Henri didn’t so enjoy poking the older woman at every opportunity. You’d think having to ride back to Charleston with her would be reason enough for her cousin to embrace peace on the Aunty front.

But Henri had always been the agitator in the family. All Callie had ever wanted was to be invisible, which was why she’d been so silent she could have been mistaken for a mute during her teenage years. As a small child, she’d done everything possible to gain her mother’s approval. By puberty, she’d come to the realization that she was wasting her time.

No matter now. Callie was a grown woman taking charge of her own life. So she’d traded seeking maternal approval for chasing professional validation. At least the newer pursuit was a possibility.

Callie was thirty minutes into entering the furniture inventory into a spreadsheet when someone knocked on her office door. Upon opening it, she found a stunning brunette on the other side. The woman was tall and lean, with an athletic build and long, wavy hair draped around her shoulders.

Were all the women on Anchor Island former runway models? If so, Callie’s self-esteem would be mush by the holidays.

“Can I help you?” she said, noticing Jack had once again left his post.

“Are you Calliope Henderson?” the woman asked, a hint of New England in her voice.

Callie nodded. “Yes, I am.”

A slender hand was extended, bangle bracelets chiming like the bells over the hotel entrance. “I’m Will Parsons. I run the wedding-coordinator business on the island. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

So this was the woman responsible for making Callie’s life more difficult. Though to be fair, Sam had been the one who’d agreed to the holiday wedding.

“No. Not a problem. Please,” Callie said. “Come in.”

“I tried to call ahead,” Will said, accepting the chair Callie offered, “but couldn’t get an answer at the front desk.”

Callie sighed. She really didn’t have time to train a new front-desk clerk. “I apologize for that. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

She had no idea if they had either prepared, since she’d brought her own tea from the cottage, but Callie offered out of habit and hoped she could find something.

“I’m good, thanks.” Will settled into the small chair in front of Callie’s desk, making her long legs more apparent as her knees nearly touched her ears. But she gracefully leaned to one side, crossing her denim-covered legs and bouncing one combat boot.

Black boots, tight jeans, and gold jewelry. The elements should have clashed, but Ms. Parsons made the combination work.

Callie regained her own seat, moving the laptop off to the side so
she could see her visitor without obstruction. “I was excited to hear the island has a wedding-coordination business,” she said.