Summer Beach Reads 5-Book Bundle: Beachcombers, Heat Wave, Moon Shell Beach, Summer House, Summer Breeze (153 page)

Charlotte woke at sunrise. Next to her, Coop sprawled naked and snoring. She’d slept through the night, and she felt easy in her body and eager to start the day. She rose and quietly slipped into her clothes. Once again she left Coop sleeping as she padded out of his house. At home, she took another quick shower, dressed in clean clothes, and hurried out to her garden. The morning was warm, the air misty. Birds sang and flitted from bush to tree, and everything seemed succulent and lush. She sang lighthearted songs from
South Pacific
and
The Sound of Music
as she roamed through her garden, gathering up lettuces, eggplants, beans, and onions for the farm stand.

Then she came to the row where she’d been working the night before, where Coop had swooped down to steal her away. Four or five hearty tomato plants, snapped off at the stalk, sprawled in the dirt, where ants and flies were feeding on some of the crushed tomatoes. The sight appalled her. She scolded herself for her overreaction; they were only tomatoes, she reminded herself. Still, as she bent in the furrow to lift off any tomatoes that were still intact, a sense of remorse settled on her.

Consequences.
Hadn’t she already learned that every act has consequences, and, while repentance exists, it can’t erase the damage set in motion?

She worked hard, rerooting the plants that could be saved, pulling up those that were past saving. She carried her baskets full of glossy vegetables to her shed to rinse and package. Jorge arrived, checked the schedule she usually kept up to date, and set off to work. She went into the house for breakfast.

Glorious was at the stove, putting a pot on to boil. “Good morning, Charlotte. I’m doing potato salad today. Got any extra scallions?”

“Absolutely. I’ll bring them in right after breakfast.” Charlotte
washed her hands, took down a box of granola and filled a bowl, and then rummaged in the refrigerator until she found a box of blueberries and added them. “How is everyone?”

Glorious shook her head. “I don’t know about
everyone
, but I’m worried about Nona. She’s fretting.”

“Really? That’s too bad.”

“She won’t eat breakfast, says she’s not hungry, and I can tell she didn’t sleep a wink.”

“Oh, Glorious,” Charlotte sighed. “You must think our family is a mess.”

“Honey, I think all families are a mess. But look at it this way. If the Good Lord hadn’t made us all so cantankerous and feeble, we wouldn’t have anything to do and He wouldn’t have anything to laugh at.”

Charlotte laughed appreciatively. Over the years, Glorious had somehow decided to keep her opinions light, and Charlotte was grateful.

Christian clattered into the room then, trying to walk with one foot stuck in a plastic dump truck. Mandy followed with baby Zoe in her arms.

“Are your hands clean? Great.” She plunked the baby in Charlotte’s arms. “Do something with her, would you? She’s grousing.”

Charlotte stared down at the pretty baby girl. For a moment, the baby stared back, then wrinkled up its face and wailed. “I don’t think she likes me,” Charlotte said.

“Nonsense. She’s just crabby. She’s teething. I’ve got drool all over my clothes. Christian, stop butting that truck into the wall. Do you want some blueberries? I need something s-w-e-e-t. Glorious, do we have anything s-w-e-e-t?”

“We’ve got some nice oatmeal raisin cookies,” Glorious replied.

“
Cookies!
” Christian yelled.

“Where is everyone?” Charlotte asked.

“Mellie’s lying on her bed, wallowing like a pig. Mee’s down at the beach. Mom’s changing the sheets and gathering laundry. I don’t know where your mother is.”

“Mm.” Charlotte tried to appear nonchalant.

Mandy looked amused. “I hear the baby has black hair.”

Charlotte almost said,
You know what, Mandy? When I was a girl, I adored you. I wanted to be just like you when I grew up. Well, I sure don’t want to be like you anymore!
She bit her tongue. This house already had enough aggravated vibrations zinging through the air.

She satisfied herself by replying virtuously, “The little girl is a beauty and the important thing is, she has all her fingers and toes.” Focusing on baby Zoe, she cooed, “Just like you!” Carefully, she lifted a dimpled fist and kissed the baby’s fingers.

Charlotte worked hard all day in her garden, realizing not for the first time how the space allowed her to be part of her family and yet separate. They all spent too much time together, she decided, that was the problem. Most of the time they rubbed along quite happily, but it was natural that they’d argue and compete and bicker. They were only human. Sometime soon she’d invite Coop over for dinner, not a social occasion with everyone on her best behavior, but a casual family meal with Christian sticking a French fry up his nose and Zoe filling her diaper and her parents sniping at each other and Aunt Grace preening herself self-righteously and Uncle Kellogg not saying a word. Coop was an only child. How would he like being around such a horde and, after all, what did Charlotte care?

She cared, she realized, because even though she and Coop were so brand new with each other, she was having sex with him and enjoying it, and she had never slept with any guy unless she thought she might be serious about him, might establish a long-term commitment with him, might—just say it, Charlotte!—might marry him. Right now she didn’t even know if she loved Coop, and she was pretty sure that if she said the word
love
to him he’d back up so fast he’d fall over.

Still …

Still, she reminded herself with a mental kick in the derriere, she should stop mooning about the future and remember that she’d agreed to go out with Coop tonight. He was arriving at seven. She
put her tools away, closed up the farm stand, and raced to the house to get showered and dressed.

Her feet felt light in her clever little sandals after being encased in heavy work boots, and her dress swirled around her in a girly-girl way that pleased her as she skipped down the stairs and into the living room.

Coop was there, sitting on the sofa, and Mee was there, too, sitting next to him, her entire body turned toward him, her low-cut dress positioned for maximum exposure. They were both laughing. When Mee saw Charlotte enter the room, she jumped, pretending to be startled, as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.

Coop rose. “You look great, Charlotte.”

She twirled. “Better than the overalls?” She took Coop’s arm possessively and fluttered her fingers at her cousin. “ ’Bye, Mee. See you all later.”

“Have fun.” Mee waved back, but she looked terribly alone sitting there, and Charlotte flushed with guilt.

Outside the movie theater was a small bistro where Coop had booked a table. Tonight the place was packed, as always in the summer, and Charlotte allowed herself a moment’s regret at the lack of intimacy and then a moment’s pleasure at being seen with such a handsome man. They ate fresh fish and—from Charlotte’s point of view—day-old veggies, and as she sipped her wine, she felt a glow of well-being. It was still summer, and right now she felt golden.

Coop regaled her in his humorous, slightly sardonic manner with an account of his day sailing with an old college friend. Charlotte laughed, delighted to be entertained, and she was smiling at him with great warmth, reminding him without words but with her gaze that they had slept together the night before and would sleep together tonight, when out of the corner of her eye she noticed a familiar
figure enter the bistro: Whit Lowry. Fiona O’Conner was with him, and her curly red hair tumbled down her back, which was bare almost to the waist. She slid into the banquette across from Whit, and Charlotte saw Fiona was smiling at Whit just the way she was smiling at Coop.

Well
, she thought.
Well!

Well, what do I care?
she reminded herself, and aimed her gaze back at Coop.

The theater had air-conditioning, but it was a small room packed with people, and now and then during the movie, the August heat, her hard day of work, and the two glasses of wine told on Charlotte and she found herself dozing off. Each time she glanced guiltily at Coop, but he was engrossed in the movie and didn’t notice. Afterward, they went down to the Club Car for a drink, and even though Charlotte would rather have gone to home to bed, she didn’t say so. It wasn’t, after all, that she was mad with lust for him. She was just tired. But the bar scene didn’t have the charm it had held when she was younger. It was steamy and noisy, people were crushed together, stepping on one another’s toes, and the music was so loud it hurt her ears. A quartet of men whom Charlotte knew vaguely from sailing joined them at the bar, boisterously recounting their adventure sailing a sloop up to Maine. They were funny, Charlotte allowed, but not as funny as they were drunk.
For heaven’s sake
, she scolded herself,
you’re still young. Stop being such an old lady!

At midnight, she pulled Coop close to her so he could hear her when she yelled in his ear: “Coop! I have to go home! I get up at four-thirty tomorrow!”

His breath was perfumed with gin when he yelled back. “Hey, give yourself a break. Sleep in. The garden won’t go anywhere.” He turned back to the sailors.

“Fine!” Charlotte slipped off her bar stool and slung her little purse over her shoulder. “I’ll take a cab.”

Coop caught her arm as she tried to pass by. “Hey! Hang on! Don’t get all hot and bothered!” With one lanky smooth move, he dismounted his stool. “Gotta go, guys. The little lady has work tomorrow.”

The four men roared at the same time, all of them condemning work and anyone who spoiled the summer doing it, but Charlotte kept moving and Coop followed. They walked in silence to the car. Charlotte sank back on the infinitely soft seat of Coop’s Lexus and let the silence of the night soothe her jangled nerves. For a while, they drove in silence.

“Have you fallen asleep over there?” Coop asked. His voice was tight.

“No. No, I’m just enjoying the peace.”

“Charlotte, can I ask you something?”

“That sounds ominous.” She stirred herself, turning toward him, smiling. “Sure.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that you’re going a little overboard with this garden thing?”

She counted to ten before she answered. “No, I don’t think I am. I’m serious about the garden, Coop. I want to—”

“Do you mean you want to keep it going for the rest of your life?” He sounded amazed.

“Well, the rest of my life is a pretty long time. I’m thinking more of, say, ten years. And then we’ll see. But I like the idea of providing organic veggies and doing my bit to keep the earth green. It sounds idealistic, perhaps, but if we don’t all try to do something—”

Coop interrupted. “Ten years! Are you kidding me? Charlotte, you’re thirty years old! What about marriage, what about a family? You won’t be able to take care of babies if you’re out digging in the dirt, plus you are always working, so how will you ever have time to have a private life?”

Surprised by his vehemence, Charlotte replied softly, “You sound just like my parents.”

“Well, I think your parents are right. I really just don’t
get
this garden business. You’re an educated, wealthy, intelligent woman. You could do anything. And come on, Charlotte, get real. What’s going to happen when your grandmother dies?”

“Nona’s fine!”

“Now she is, and I’m glad. But she’s
ninety.
What’s going to happen when she’s gone and the property is divided among all of you?
You’re not going to be able to keep your garden;
you’re
not going to inherit all that land. What if your family wants to sell the place?”

Charlotte was stunned. Everything he said was so—so
informed.
It wasn’t like Coop to care about such matters, at least what she knew of him, and it was becoming quite clear to her how little that was.

And then, with a bright flash in her brain, she got it. “Mee. You’ve been listening to Mee.”

He didn’t deny it. “Mee’s concerned about you. Your family’s concerned about you. If you were a naïve adolescent, it would make sense, but—”

“Okay, Coop, stop right there.” She was trembling. “When you say
your family
, please remember that my cousins and I have always been different. We love each other, but we’re different. And none of us knows who’s going to inherit what, not that that is any of your business anyway! And no one is going to sell the place!”

He kept his eyes on the road. “With all that acreage, you could make a stupendous amount of money.”

“So could you, with your property,” she shot back.

“Believe me, I’m trying to talk my parents into selling. I wouldn’t have to worry about money for a long time.”

“But you’re not worried about money now!” Charlotte argued. “Coop, you’re young, and you have your software business, you can support yourself; isn’t the house, that beautiful view, your way of life, your land and beach, isn’t that worth more than money to you?”

They reached the spot where Coop’s drive met the road. Several yards on, the Wheelwright drive joined the road. Coop steered the Lexus into his drive, put the vehicle in park, released his seat belt, and turned to Charlotte. Gently, he touched her cheek.

“Are we having our first argument?”

Her emotions were all over the place, but she couldn’t dismiss the suggestion implied by his words, that they were in the midst of a relationship, that they would have other arguments, other discussions. “Coop. Look. I’m sorry if I’m overwrought.”

“I wouldn’t say overwrought.” Coop knew how to turn on the charm. “Maybe just
wrought.
”

She smiled. “You know, I’ve had the garden for three years now.”

“I guess I knew that. I’m not sure I really paid attention.” He caressed her cheek. “And three years is a long time. It’s a commitment. I understand that. And I apologize for getting into such heavy stuff so soon. I don’t mean to be intrusive.” His hand dropped to her neck; he stroked it with his fingertips. “Actually, I would like to be intrusive.…”

His tone was easy, his touch alluring.
But I’m so tired
, she reminded herself.