The Chesapeake Bride Page 13

  He went to the porch door and opened the screen. “Lis, come get plates and stuff to set the table.”

  “I can help her.” Cass turned, and for a moment she was that close, so close to his chest they were almost touching. Owen looked down and almost wished he hadn’t. Their eyes locked, and the temptation to kiss her was so strong. All he had to do was lean in just another few inches.

  If I’d waited one more minute to call Lis in, I’d be kissing her right now.

  Lis and Alec came through the back door, laughing at something one of them had said, and the sound of their laughter broke the spell. Owen took one step back, then a second, his eyes still on Cass’s face. He didn’t recognize her expression. Relief or disappointment? He wasn’t sure.

  Lis continued to chatter as she lifted plates from the cupboard, while Alec went into the store for a six-pack of beer.

  Lis glanced into the frying pan. “Those crab cakes are monstrous.”

  “They’ll need about ten minutes.” Owen moved to the stove and began adding the crab cakes to the pan where the butter was beginning to sizzle.

  “I’ll take some of the plates,” Cass offered.

  “I’ve got them, but you can bring the salad.” Lis opened the refrigerator door and pointed to the white bowl. Cass grabbed it and followed Lis out the door.

  Owen had just finished adding the crab cakes to the pan when he heard the door again. He knew without turning around it would be Cass, even though she didn’t make a sound, and he knew within seconds she’d be right behind him. Instinct? Or was the sight finally pulling through for him?

  Cass leaned around him, one hand resting on his shoulder, and every cell in his body went on alert. “They smell amazing.”

  “They will be amazing.”

  “Think the potatoes are done?”

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth. Owen half turned and slid an arm around her. Without hesitating this time, he kissed her ever so lightly on the lips. When he realized she was kissing him back, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again. The jolt went from the top of his head to his toes and was so strong, he was sure she must have felt it, too.

  Slightly flustered, she pulled away, avoiding his eyes. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Best idea I’ve had in a long time. Glad I acted on it.” He leaned close to her ear. “And so are you.”

  Diary~

  I’ve been having such fun lately. Toward the end of the summer, I got it into my head that I needed a little break in the afternoon, so I headed down to the terrace—what my daughter, Lucy, calls the veranda when she’s doing her wedding-planning thing—where I had a leisurely cup of tea. I enjoyed that short bit of time so much, I found myself gravitating to the same table every day around the same time. I’d often see the same guests out there, so one day I invited a few of them to join me. Well, before I knew it, we had a little group coming together at the same place, same time, every day, and I decided to make it a regular thing. I invited any of our guests who wished to join us to come to the terrace at four every afternoon. I asked our pastry chef to make some tea sandwiches and fancy little cakes and some scones and voilà! Afternoon tea at the Inn at Sinclair’s Point was official! I think I shall continue the practice through the coming months, though another venue will have to be found. The winter wind blowing across the bay would put the kibosh on outside dining of any sort, to say the least!

  I look forward to this little break in my routine—at my age, such moments of relaxation are no longer luxuries, but necessities. I’ve gotten to know our guests better—the door, so to speak, is always open to one and all—and I daresay they’ve all gotten to know our little town better through our discussions. One day we talked about the Enright mansion and how it came to be the community art center, about Curtis Enright and his lovely wife, Rose, and the parties they used to have there. Of course, I had to tell them that there are many who claim Rose—gone now these twenty years—has never really left, how even now there are those who claim to smell gardenias, her favorite scent, here and there around the old house. I myself have had the experience on many, many occasions, but then again, I knew Rose well, so one would expect her to stop by upon seeing an old friend.

  Our guests were further fascinated by the history of Cannonball Island, which led into a discussion of the new homes that would soon be available over there. That is, they will be once the whole business of who or what is resting on the bottom of the river is settled. Of course, Ruby and I know it’s that merchant ship that the folks at Annapolis turned back. In time, it will be discovered the fire began belowdecks while several crew members, having decided that the small cargo of rum wouldn’t be delivered after all, conspired to consume as much of it as they could. The ship was at anchor, hiding in the river with too many idle hands on board. All it took for the fire to blaze out of control was one unguarded candle and five inebriated sailors. However, the real story of that fateful night will not be revealed when the ship is explored: that of the slaves and indentured men who, still chained together, escaped to Cannonball Island. Several folks around these parts are descendants, though they may not know it. It’s not my place to tell~

  Grace~

  Chapter Seven

  What, Cass asked herself, was she going to do about Owen Parker?

  Owen Parker, who might just be the biggest player on the planet. The same Owen who’d helped her to clean up an abandoned graveyard, taught her how to use power tools, took her crabbing, and who turned out to be a fabulous cook. Oh, and shared his wonderful family with her. Owen Parker, who might hold the title Hottest Guy I Ever Met.

  Owen Parker, who had kissed her blind until she barely remembered where the ignition was in her car and where she was supposed to be going.

  She hadn’t planned on that happening. The dinner, yes. Enjoying his family, yes. Kissing him in the moonlight? Not on her list of things to do.

  She’d accepted the dinner invitation hoping to learn a little more about the situation with the dock so she could fill her father in. She hadn’t been happy to hear what Owen had to say, but at least he’d been honest and had offered to help her solve the problem. She suspected the possibility was real that there’d be no place on the island where they could inexpensively build another dock, but as Owen had quoted Ruby, “You got a problem, you find a solution. You don’t be wasting time worrying about it.”

  Cass was going to try to live up to that advice. She’d look for a solution before she wasted any more time worrying about it. She just hoped she could talk her father into doing the same.

  Everything about the evening had been perfect. The food was delicious. The setting magical—Ruby’s garden was full of life and color and fragrance, and a few leftover fireflies made an appearance. Fairy lights, Lis had called them. The company couldn’t have been improved upon. The first time they’d met, Cass had recognized she was in the presence of someone very special in Ruby. Alec had been Cass’s ally in getting her father to appreciate the potential of Cannonball Island as she envisioned it, and Alec had become a true friend. She’d been honored when he asked her to work with him to renovate the cottage that meant so much to Lis. Cass had been more than happy to be part of making that special dream come true for Alec to give his beloved.

  They’d had such a fun time, she’d hated to see the evening end. Even cleanup had been fun. Ruby had retreated to her sitting room with a book she’d been reading.

  “I’m almost to the end,” she’d told them before she’d shuffled off to her living quarters. “I be certain who the slasher is, but I need to finish the book to know for sure.”

  Slasher? Cass had mouthed the word to Owen.

  He’d laughed out loud. “Ruby loves dark thrillers. The darker, the bloodier, the better.”

  “I never would have guessed.” Cass walked into the kitchen shaking her head.

  “How ’bout that one she read a few weeks ago?” Lis had placed the empty salad bowl on the counter. “About s
ome guy who wrapped his pretty victims in cellophane and watched them suffocate.”

  “No way.” Cass’s eyebrows had risen nearly to her hairline.

  “Way,” Lis assured her.

  “Wow. I’d have figured her more for a good cozy mystery.” Cass started to rinse dishes in the sink. Owen tried to back her away to take her place but she shooed him off. “I’ll rinse. You load the dishwasher.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “She does read a few cozies from time to time, but give her a good serial killer and she’s all in,” Lis had said.

  Owen turned on his iPhone and searched for his music downloads.

  “Is there music to clean up by?” Cass had asked.

  He responded by placing the phone on the counter and turning up the volume. “That do it for you?” Owen began to rap along to the lyrics to “My Shot” from Hamilton.

  Cass had tried to keep a straight face, but by the time he’d finished, she’d lost it. “No way did I see that coming.”

  “Me either. When he was younger, he wanted to do the whole boy-band thing,” Lis said when she finished laughing. “He doesn’t rap any better than he sings.”

  “Maybe you could rap the toast at the wedding next week,” Alec suggested.

  “You mock me because you’re jealous of my mad skills.”

  “I mock you because that was so out of character,” Alec said. “And not very good, frankly.”

  “A man has to be multifaceted,” Owen said with a straight face.

  “Just make sure you practice that toast a few times before the wedding.” Lis dried off the bowl she wanted to take home.

  “I’ll be ready with a knockout toast,” Owen assured her. “You’ll be in tears by the time I’m finished.”

  “Great. Something to look forward to. Note to self: waterproof mascara.” Lis kissed him on the cheek, then hugged Cass. “Are you sure you don’t want help with those dishes?”

  “We’re good,” Owen told her.

  “I’ll give your dad a call about the dock, Cass,” Alec said.

  “Thanks, but I think that’s a conversation I’ll need to have.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind,” Alec said as he and Lis left.

  “I don’t think I will, but nice of you to offer.”

  “Do you want to wait to call your dad until after we’ve had a chance to look around for a possible alternate site?” Owen asked after Lis and Alec were gone.

  “I think I should call in the morning, before anyone else contacts him.” Cass handed Owen the last plate. “But you will think about where else we could build, right?”

  “I promise.”

  Cass looked at the clock that hung over the doorway. “It’s later than I thought. I should be going. I have a date with the Allens in the morning.”

  “Who?”

  “The Allens. They’re buried in the front yard of the house next to the chapel.”

  “The new chapel, the old chapel, or the old old chapel?”

  “They all look old to me. I can’t tell the difference.”

  “We’ll have to include that in your island tutorial.”

  Cass picked up her bag, and Owen followed her to the back door, his arm resting casually over her shoulder. They walked outside and stood on the top porch step.

  “Look up,” Owen said.

  The night sky was ink black, the ambient light on the island being almost nonexistent. The stars twinkled and several constellations were in full view.

  Owen stood as if mesmerized. “Do you know why they call Polaris the North Star?”

  “Because it always points north?”

  “Pretty much. The earth’s axis is pointed almost exactly at that star. It stays in pretty much the same place all year round, while other stars move around the sky. Early explorers used it to navigate.”

  “So I guess it works as good as a compass.”

  “It’s better than a compass. A compass can only show you the direction of the strongest magnetic force for a certain time and a specific place. The North Star is pretty constant.”

  “Well, I know it’s in the handle of the Big Dipper.”

  “You mean the Little Dipper.” He pointed overhead. “The Big Dipper is there. See the handle? It’s in the opposite direction from the handle of the Little Dipper. The handles always appear to be in opposing directions.”

  “Did you ever navigate using just the North Star?”

  “Sure. When I was a kid, that’s all we ever used, my grampa and me. He thought compasses were a crutch.” Owen laughed. “He thought anything that didn’t rely on the use of your own senses was a crutch. The man never went past eighth grade, but he knew more about stuff than anyone I ever knew.”

  “Was this your mom’s father?”

  Owen shook his head. “My dad’s father.”

  “You never talk about your parents.”

  Owen shrugged. “Not much to say. My mom’s on her third husband and my father’s dead.”

  “Oooh, harsh.”

  “My father wasn’t a particularly nice guy. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t nice at all. He carried a grudge over something that happened back in 1814 and he never let us forget it.”

  “Eighteen fourteen. That’s when . . .”

  “Yeah. When the residents of St. Dennis who were loyal to the British were driven out of town and onto this island. They had to leave behind their homes and anything they couldn’t carry with them. My dad’s family owned property in St. Dennis that was taken from them and he never got over it. The house is still standing, and it was a source of irritation to him throughout his life. He let that loss—which wasn’t even his loss—define his life. He tried to make it define Lis’s and mine, too.”

  “In what way?”

  “Anything to do with St. Dennis was forbidden. Which was tough on Lis and me because we had to go to school there. But we weren’t to make friends with any of the kids, and we could only hang out with fellow islanders.”

  “How’d that work out?”

  Owen snorted. “How do you think? I never paid any attention to his ranting and raving, and after a time, I was bigger than him, so he didn’t force the issue with me. It was tougher on Lis, though, because she couldn’t bring herself to defy him the way I did. It just wasn’t in her nature back then.”

  “She seems pretty tough now.”

  “She earned her toughness. She went away to school and she stayed away for a long time. She just came back at the beginning of the summer.”

  “And that fast, she and Alec met and fell in love?”

  “Alec has always had a thing for her. Always. And apparently, she’d noticed him a lot more than she let on.” Owen took her hand as he stepped off the porch, and she followed. “Some people are just meant to be together, you know?”

  It had been on the tip of her tongue to ask him who his “meant to be” was, but she thought better of it. She didn’t really want to know. Instead, she said, “Well, then, I’m glad they found each other.”

  Reaching her car, she put a hand out to open the driver’s-side door. But somehow she’d gotten turned around, and before she knew it, she was in Owen’s arms and his lips were in search of hers. She lifted her head, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. The crackle of electricity that had marked their earlier kiss became a thunderbolt, but rather than pull away, she moved toward the source of the heat.

  She’d never realized how much emotion could be packed into one kiss. When she pulled away, she was almost breathless but did her best to hide it. The last thing she wanted was for Owen to know what effect he had on her.

  “So I’ve decided you need to learn a little more about the Eastern Shore,” he said as she tried to clear her head.

  “What?”

  “I think it’s almost criminal for someone who lived in Maryland for so long to have so little understanding of the place the Eastern Shore held in the nation’s history. You expect to live here, you have to know what here is all about.
I’ll pick you up at twelve thirty tomorrow.”

  “Wait, what? What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about a guided tour.” He smiled and opened the car door for her and held it open as she slid behind the wheel.

  “I’m going to be working in the Allen graveyard tomorrow. I told you that.”

  “So start your day a little earlier. Wear sneakers and bring a sweater.”

  He closed the door without waiting for her response, and Cass had driven home in a fog. It had taken forever for her to fall asleep because she’d relived a hundred times the way his lips had felt on hers, and she’d told herself a hundred times she should back away while she still could. She awoke the next morning with the memory of that kiss still fresh in her mind. She told it to get lost as she rose early and set off for an overgrown graveyard on Cannonball Island.

  THE ALLEN PLOT was relatively small compared to the others she’d worked on, so after her early start, by nine thirty she was finished and had the entire rest of the day ahead of her. She had plenty of time to shower off the grass and the dirt. She dressed in navy crop pants and a long-sleeved white T and was right on time to meet Owen in the lobby.

  “You look great,” he said when he arrived at the inn just when the clock in the lobby chimed at twelve thirty. He took her hand as they walked through the double doors. “You smell good, too.” He leaned toward her and sniffed. “Nice. Familiar, but I can’t place it.”

  Cass laughed. “It’s coconut-scented shampoo.”

  “That explains my sudden urge for macaroons.”

  They arrived at the car and Owen opened the passenger’s door. He held it while Cass climbed in. “How are the Allens doing?”

  “A lot better now that their final resting places have been cleaned up. How was your dive this morning?”

  “It was great.” His eyes lit up. “Jared and a few of his guys had mapped out the wreck site on a grid, so we each took a section. I found a large piece of heavy chain. Ruby said she’d heard the ship had carried slaves and indentured men, so I guess she was right.”