Chapter Ten
Francine waited for her grandmother to go inside the house, then maneuvered along the driveway, heading in the direction of Waccamaw Road. After the early service, she’d run into Jeff’s grandmother, who told her Kara wanted her to come by and see the baby.
She waved to Miss Bernice through the driver’s side window. Every morning she came out of her house to sweep the front porch whether it had debris or not. It was just an excuse for her to keep watch on her neighbors. The Tanners may have held the distinction of owning the largest private residence in the Cove but it still did not have enough acreage to provide complete privacy from their nearest neighbor. The former owners had sold off acre after acre of what had been more than twenty until less than a half acre remained. One by one other houses had been erected on half-acre lots along with countless magnolia trees that, when flowering, permeated the air with perfume from their blooms. Pulling into the driveway behind Miss Corrine’s Camry, Francine parked the fire-engine-red Corvette. Kara stood in the doorway, holding her son to her chest. His tiny round head moved as he made grunting noises.
“Please come in,” Kara said, smiling. “It’s time for his feeding and if I’m one minute late he starts crying as if I hadn’t fed him four hours ago.”
Francine followed her into the sunroom with the framed artwork of renowned Southern painter Jonathan Green mounted on one wall. She peered closer at one painting. “Are these originals?”
“Yes. Gram is quite proud of her art collection.” Kara sat on a rocker, unbuttoned her blouse, and within seconds her son had attacked her breast with such a vengeance that she made a hissing sound. “Slow it down, Austin, or you’re going to choke.” She gestured to a love seat covered with a sunny-yellow fabric with bright green leaves. “Sit down, Francine.”
She complied, staring at the scene of a mother feeding her child that had been repeated since the beginning of time. Morgan was right. The newborn was his father’s clone. “Your son is going to grow up to be quite the heartbreaker.”
Attractive lines fanned out around Kara’s large hazel eyes when she smiled. “Jeff keeps threatening to teach him how to be a player, but I told him my son will not grow up to mess over women as long as I have anything to do with his upbringing.”
“How is Jeff adjusting to fatherhood?”
“It’s like he was born to take care of a baby. He does everything but breast-feed. He and Gram fight constantly about who’s going to hold him. I keep reminding them that they’re spoiling him, but it’s like talking to a wall.”
“Babies are meant to be spoiled.”
Kara rolled her eyes. “You say that because you don’t have any. When Austin refuses to go sleep by himself because he wants to be held, I’ll bring him right over to Magnolia Drive and hand him to you.”
Throwing back her head, Francine laughed. “I’ll take him. And don’t expect to get him back.”
Corrine and Jeff walked into the sunroom at the same time. Corrine handed Francine a cup of tea. “I heard your car when you drove up. I know you prefer tea to coffee.”
Jeff was in uniform, which meant he was on duty or scheduled to go on duty. He’d resigned his commission as a captain with the U.S. Marine Corps to return to the island to care for his grandmother. He’d been recruited to fill in as sheriff when his predecessor resigned and no one, unless they’d taken leave of their senses, dared to challenge the former military policeman.
Francine nodded. “I do.” She normally drank one cup of coffee a day, and that was decaf at night. Jeff came over and kissed Francine’s cheek. “I just stopped by to check on my girls.”
Corrine sat down next to Francine. “Your girls and your son, Jeffrey.”
He gave his grandmother a sheepish look. “Why do you have to blow me up like that, Gram?”
She waved at him. “Go on and protect the good people of Cavanaugh Island from the rascals, scalawags, and perpetrators.”
Jeff patted Corrine’s silver hair. “They’re not perps until they commit a crime.”
“And it’s your job to stop them from becoming perps, Jeffrey.”
Kara, who’d finished feeding her son, handed Francine a diaper. “You can burp him. It doesn’t hurt to get in a little practice for when you have your little one.”
Francine jumped up. “I doubt if that’s ever going to happen.” And if it did it wouldn’t be for a while, she mused. She hadn’t planned on getting married again, but she was leaving her options open when it came to adoption. “Let me wash my hands first.” She returned after washing her hands in the half bath off the kitchen, holding out her arms for the newborn. He opened his eyes and seemingly smiled at her. Morgan was right. He had inherited the Pattons’ gray eyes. Placing the diaper over her shoulder, she supported his head in one hand, and gently rubbed his back. He had the new baby smell she loved. Austin let out a loud burp. “That was a good one.” Francine cradled Austin in the crook of her arm, her features softening noticeably. “He’s so adorable.”
She couldn’t help the direction her thoughts took as she stood holding the newborn. What would it feel like to watch her belly grow with a child she’d created with Keaton? To have their son or daughter feed at her breasts? To watch him cradle their baby in his large hands? In that instant she wanted what Kara and Jeff, and Morgan and Nate, had. Francine finally admitted to wanting a second chance to fall in love and marry, and this time get it right.
“He’s a good baby,” Corrine said proudly. “The only time he cries is when he wants to eat.” She pushed to her feet. “Speaking of eating, can we offer you anything, Francine?”
“No thank you, Miss Corrine. I ate something before church.”
Kara smoothed back the hair that had escaped the elastic band holding her ponytail in place. “Give me another three weeks and I’m going to redeem a part of your gift certificate with a haircut and hydrating facial. I’m going to save the full body massage for after I have my six-week checkup.”
“Call me whenever you’re ready and I’ll be happy to schedule you. Remember, we’re closed on Sunday and Monday.”
Francine gave Austin to his mother, who placed him in the cradle Nate had made for him. She stayed another forty-five minutes with the Hamiltons, asking Corrine if she would be willing to talk to Keaton about the island’s history for a movie script. Corrine said he could come by at any time. She seemed genuinely pleased that someone wanted to make a movie about the Lowcountry.
Her thoughts quickly turned to her pending chores once she reached her home. She had to put away several loads of laundry and planned to watch her favorite TV programs, her usual Sunday night routine. Monday mornings were relegated to cleaning her apartment, leaving her the rest of day to relax and do things for herself.
When she walked into the main house, she headed straight for the kitchen, stopping short when she saw her mother sitting on a stool, hair covered with a colorful bandanna, at the cooking island rolling out piecrusts. “What are you doing here, Mama?” She expected her mother to be readying herself for the later service at church, not cooking.
Mavis’s head came around and she smiled at Francine. “I live here.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Francine teased. She closed the distance between them, kissed Mavis’s cheek, and then sat opposite her mother. Francine noticed tightness around Mavis’s mouth when she pressed her lips together.
“Where’s Daddy?”
“He went over to that driving range in Goose Creek. He claims he’s off his golf game and wants to get in some practice before he enters that fund-raising tournament next month.”
“You’re in pain, Mama.”
“How do you know?”
“You’re grimacing. It’s your back again, isn’t it?”
“It is a little tight.”
“Why don’t you go and lie down?”
“I can’t. I promised Grandma Dinah I would make dessert for dinner.”
Rising to her feet, Francine came around and eased Mavis up to a standing position. “I’m going to put you into bed where you’re going to rest your back.”
“Who’s going to make dessert?” Mavis asked.
“I’ll go out and buy something if Grandma decides she doesn’t want to do it.”
The Muffin Corner was closed on Sundays, which meant Francine would have to drive into Charleston. Curving an arm around Mavis’s waist, she led her gently out of the kitchen and down the hallway leading to the master bedroom.
“Why don’t you try to finish what I started,” Mavis suggested. “All you have to do is roll out another crust.”
“Please, Mama. You know I can’t make a pie.”
Mavis groaned under her breath. “We can’t have dinner without dessert. There are melons, grapes, and berries in the fridge. You can make a fruit salad.”
“Okay. I can cut up the fruit.”
Francine managed to get her mother into bed without putting too much stress on her back. She’d tried to convince her mother to limit the number of hours she stood on her feet at the salon, but to no avail. “I’m going to bring you a couple of aspirins and a heating pad.”
Mavis’s high cheekbones were pronounced when she smiled. “Thank you.”
Leaning over, Francine pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Don’t run away,” she teased. She went into the bathroom to get the aspirin, a glass of water, and the heating pad. “Does Daddy know about your back?” she asked when she returned to the bedroom to hand her the glass and the aspirin. She adjusted several pillows at the small of Mavis’s back, then plugged in the heating pad.
Mavis peered at Francine over the rim of the glass. “No. It didn’t start hurting until after he’d left this morning.”
Sitting on the side of the mattress, Francine lightly touched the salt-and-pepper twists falling over the pillow. The familiar scent of coconut wafted to her nose. Mavis washed and conditioned her hair every week, painstakingly twisting her hair until it was smooth and smelling of coconut from the hairdressing she used to keep it from unwinding.
Francine crawled into bed and lay beside her mother as she’d done when she was a child whenever her father went away on business. “I went to see Kara’s baby after church.”
Mavis closed her eyes. “How is he?”
“Delicious, Mama. He’s a miniature Jeff right down to the slight cleft in his chin.”
“Oh.” She sighed. “This heat feels so good on my back.”
“What you need to do is take a week off and go down to the Caribbean with Daddy and lie in the sun. Your pain may come from stress but it can also stem from you standing on your feet for hours without taking a break. It’s time you think about cutting back your hours.”
“And do what, boss?”
Francine laughed. “Relax.”
Mavis opened her eyes, shifting slightly so she could look directly at Francine. “I’ll relax when I can stay home and take care of my grandchild.”
“Please don’t go there again,” Francine said under her breath.
“I will go there, Francine, because right now there’s nothing to stay home for. Corrine raised Jeff when his mother died, and now I’m certain she’ll look after her great-grandson if or when Kara decides she wants to go back to social work even if it’s on a part-time basis.”
“You don’t have to babysit to stay home,” she argued softly. “You can join the book discussion group Deborah hosts at her bookstore, or you can become more involved in the chamber activities. You can go with Grandma when she goes to the Creek for her quilting bee. Right now they’re making personalized quilts for cancer patients in the children’s hospital.”
“That’s all good, but some of those women gossip way too much. It’s all right to talk sometimes, but that’s all they do. Instead of talking about what’s happening in the world it’s about whose husband is sleeping with whom. Then it’s about how much someone spends on shoes or a handbag. Who gives a flying fig if I decide to spend fifty dollars or five hundred dollars on a handbag? It’s my money and I can do whatever I want with it. But you never hear them talk about how their badass kids get into trouble with drugs or if their boy was caught breaking into a store or even slapping his wife and kids around. That’s when their jaws get so tight you wouldn’t be able to pry them open with a crowbar.”
“What else is there to talk about?” Francine asked.
“There are a lot of things. What do you and Keaton talk about?”
She hesitated, wondering where the question had stemmed from. Her mother must have heard something about them. “We usually talk about ourselves and of course movies. He’s new here so he wouldn’t know too much about anyone.”
“That’s true, but there has been a lot of talk about him. A few of the folks staying at the boardinghouse claim he keeps to himself, and that he’s quiet and very polite.”
“I guess the word hasn’t got out yet about his building the movie studio.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Mavis said. “Someone said Hannah let the cat out the bag when she mentioned it to Mayor White. This upcoming mayoral race is as nasty as the last presidential campaign, with people taking sides and hurling slurs at one another. Sanctuary Cove has only approximately eight hundred people, of which only half vote, yet you’d think it was the race for the White House.”
“Remember, Mama, this is the first time Spencer has faced a serious challenger. Alice is the Cove’s first female mayoral candidate and she’s married to a man with deep pockets when it comes to campaign financing. She’s young, attractive, a mother, and a nonpracticing attorney. Her husband has made certain Cavanaugh Island gets its fair share of federal government monies for the taxes we pay. Spencer is solely relying on his good looks and his bachelor status with the women voters.”
“They’re scheduled to have one debate a week before the March election and that’s something I plan to witness in person even if we have to close the shop early. Now, back to you and Keaton,” Mavis said without pausing to take a breath.
“What about us?”
“Do you like him?”
“Of course I like him,” Francine said quickly. “If I didn’t then I wouldn’t go out with him.”
“Your grandma told me she likes him too.”
“That’s because she knows he’s going to give me cooking lessons. Did she tell you she allowed him to fix something in her kitchen?”
“No… no she didn’t.” She paused. “Your visions are bothering you, aren’t they?”
Francine noticed her mother was slurring. Aspirin always made her sleepy. “Why would you say that, Mama?”
“Because you’re in bed with me. Tell me about them.”
Francine knew she couldn’t get anything past her mother. As a child, whenever she had a disturbing vision she would crawl into bed with Mavis and they would discuss what she’d seen. She told her about the recurring one about the gaping mouths and shouting and that she knew the uproar had taken place in Sanctuary Cove because she recognized the town square.
“It’s probably the election. Folks have become very vocal about who they want to see as their next mayor.”
“That’s what I keep thinking. I’m going to program the heating pad to go off in twenty minutes.” Slipping out of bed, she folded the blankets under Mavis’s shoulders. “I’ll come and check on you as soon as I put up a load of laundry.”
A tired smile parted Mavis’s full lips. “Thanks for taking care of your mama.”
“You’re welcome.” Francine wanted to tell Mavis she’d taken care of her for years and now it was her turn.
She took the elevator rather than the stairs to the second floor. The door to her grandmother’s apartment was open, but she didn’t go in.
Francine changed out of her slacks and blouse and into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. She stripped her bed, gathered towels, and emptied the hamper, sorting everything by color. The washing machine, dryer, and collapsible ironing board were in an alcove off the kitchen. She put up a load of whites, then returned to the bedroom to make up her bed. As promised, she went downstairs to check on her mother and found her fast asleep. Rest and staying off her feet for a few hours usually lessened Mavis’s back discomfort.
Francine’s thoughts quickly returned to Kara and Austin. She knew her mother wanted a grandchild, but it wasn’t as if she were a magician and could pull one out of a hat. A shiver swept over her like a cold wind when she thought about having Keaton’s baby. Francine closed her eyes. What she couldn’t wrap her head around was why he was the one who had her thinking about motherhood. Even when she was married the thought of becoming pregnant hadn’t been a remote possibility. Maybe it was her intuition unknowingly coming into play.
Eight years had changed her. She had a new career and knew unequivocally that she didn’t need anyone to convince her that she was worthy of being loved. She smiled inwardly. She had Keaton to thank for that.
Keaton was still transcribing the notes from his interview with the librarian when his cell phone vibrated. A slight frown appeared between his eyes when he saw the name of the caller. It was eleven on the East Coast and that made it eight o’clock in L.A. He couldn’t imagine why his real estate broker would call him on a Sunday morning. Unless… he’d been out all night partying and had forgotten what day it was.
“What’s up, Aaron?”
“I’ve got good news, my friend. I have a buyer for your house.”
Keaton grinned like the Cheshire cat. He’d thought with the slow upswing in the housing market it would take months if not a year to sell his house. “That is good news.”
His real estate agent’s distinctive, horsey laugh came through the speaker. “I have even better news, my friend. I’m sitting here staring at a copy of an electronic transfer payable to you for twice the amount of the original asking price.”
A knot formed in Keaton’s chest, making it difficult for him to draw a normal breath. Aaron Cosgrove had earned a reputation for being a pimp and street hustler before straightening out his life to dabble in real estate. Men were usually won over by his smooth, persuasive demeanor, while most women were taken in by his incredible resemblance to the heartthrob actor Rob Lowe. “I hope you didn’t sell my house to a drug dealer.”
“Come on, my friend. I don’t know people like that anymore.”
“Some Middle East oil dude bought it for his twin sons who are here studying on student visas. It’s apparent the boys have been running buck wild and their father decided if they live in a gated community with an American uncle sharing the house to monitor their actions they won’t bring shame on the family name. The uncle told me they wanted to move in ASAP, but when I told him the owner had to arrange for someone to pack up the contents of the house and ship them across the country, he told me to name a price and he’d purchase the house and everything in it.
“I asked if he could wait twenty-four hours because I needed time to get in touch with the owner to see if you’re willing to sell the furniture, because you’d employed the services of L.A.’s foremost interior decorator to the stars for your new home. I kinda stretched the truth a bit when I said you’d been on a wait list for three months. Meanwhile, I had someone, who will remain nameless, investigate this dude.”
Smiling, Keaton shook his head. You could take the man out of the hustle, but with Aaron you couldn’t take the hustle out of the man. “What did he find out?”
“My friend, are you sitting down?”
“Yes.”
“The uncle and his recalcitrant nephews are close cousins of a Saudi prince. It was like hitting the super trifecta in all of the Triple Crown races. I told him if he’d match the selling price, then he could move in within forty-eight hours of the transfer of his bank draft. The man paid you four point two million dollars for the house and its contents. I need you to fly out here like yesterday so we can close on the house.”
Keaton couldn’t believe Aaron had worked a deal where he would earn more than half a million in commission. “I’m going to call the airline and reserve a flight for some time tomorrow. I’ll let you know when I’m scheduled to arrive so you can pick me up at the airport. Get in touch with Brian and tell him I need him to be at the closing.”
Brian Appelbaum had handled the legal work when Keaton purchased the house in the exclusive enclave where the selling prices started at $1.5 million and went as high as $5 million. He’d bought the house on the one-acre lot for $1.8 million and had put it on the market for an even $2 million. But Aaron, hustler extraordinaire, had sold it for more than double what he’d paid for it. Keaton had arranged beforehand to let Mrs. Miller live in the house until it was sold, then she would move into a motel offering monthly room rates. Once the house in Sanctuary Cove was completed, she would relocate to the East Coast.
“He already knows about it,” Aaron informed Keaton.
He had to give it to Aaron. The man was always one step ahead of him. He’d teased Aaron that if he’d gone to law school and passed the bar, then he could’ve become one of the most sought-after attorneys in the country. He was just that wily and intelligent.
“Good. I’ll probably see you tomorrow.” Keaton ended the call, then tapped the screen for Francine’s cell. It went directly to voice mail. He left a message telling her he had to cancel eating with her family because he had to fly out to L.A. on business, and promised to call her while there.
His phone rang again. This call also had a Los Angeles area code. “Hey, Liana. How are you?” It’d been more than a month since he’d spoken to his sister. Their last call hadn’t ended well—she’d abruptly hung up on him.
“I’m not doing too good right now.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Hollis and I had a blowup… I threatened to leave him.”
All of Keaton’s protective instincts were on full alert. “What did he do to you?” His brother-in-law had a hair-trigger temper and he didn’t want to… His thoughts trailed off when he shook his head. “Talk to me, Liana.”
“We had an argument.”
“A lot of married couples argue.”
“It was about you, Keaton.”
He froze. “What about me?”
“He must have thought you were blowing smoke when you told him the two of you were through, but when he got the papers your lawyer sent dissolving your partnership agreement he went berserk. He wanted me to call and try to convince you to reconsider. I told him it was his fault because he should’ve known when to back off and then the proverbial shit hit the fan. He started screaming and throwing things, so I packed up the kids and checked into a hotel.”
Pressing his fist to his mouth, Keaton counted slowly to five. “You should’ve called the police and they would’ve made him leave the house to ensure the safety of you and the kids. I’m coming out there tomorrow to take care of some business. I’ll call you as soon as I get there. Meanwhile, I’m going to try and get in touch with Hollis.”
“He was like a wild man, Keaton.”
“He’s nothing more than a spoiled brat who can’t get his way. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him.”
Liana’s sniffles came through the earpiece. “Daddy told me not to marry him.”
This disclosure came as a shock to Keaton. He’d had no inkling that his father had disapproved of his future son-in-law. Liana had met Hollis when both attended Stanford University. They’d dated off and on for several years, lost touch with each other, and then were reunited at a party hosted by a mutual friend. Hollis Orman proposed four months after they reunited and they were married in a lavish wedding ceremony in one of Pittsburgh’s oldest African American churches, followed by a reception on the lawn of an elegant country club boasting Japanese-inspired footbridges and ponds filled with water lilies.
“Why?”
“He witnessed Hollis yelling at his mother over the phone. He said if Hollis disrespected his mother, then he would disrespect his wife. I shrugged it off because his mother is such a witch. It’s apparent Daddy’s prediction came true.”
Keaton attempted to process what his sister had just told him. If his father had mentioned the incident perhaps he, too, would’ve dissuaded Liana from marrying the banker. “Do you need money?”
Liana laughed. “I don’t think so. Before I checked into the hotel I stopped by the bank and closed out our joint account, transferring the money to one I’d set up for the children. Hollis can pitch a fit but there’s nothing he can do about it. This account is the only one we have that doesn’t require two signatures. And if my husband decides to come after me, I will take out a restraining order.”
“I know Kari and Jonathan are still in school, but if the house here was ready I’d tell you to come and live with me until you decide what you want to do.”
“I spoke to Mom just before I called you and she’s begging me to move back to Pittsburgh. I told her that I have to check with a lawyer to see if I can legally take the kids out of the state.”
“They’re your children, Liana. You and Hollis are co-parenting, so if he wanted to he could take the children and move out of the state and wouldn’t be charged with kidnapping. That only applies where there is a custody ruling.”
“I didn’t think of that. I have to go back to the house to get their immunization papers and other documents I’ll need if I want to enroll them in school in Pennsylvania.”
“Don’t go back until I get there. I’ll go with you.”
“No, Keaton. I don’t want you involved in this. It will be like pouring gasoline on a fire.”
“It’s too late. I became involved the moment you called me. You’re my baby sister. Haven’t I always promised to take care of you?”
“Yes, you have,” came Liana’s plaintive reply.
“Then let me handle this my way.”
Ten minutes later Keaton was still fuming while he paced the length of his bedroom in the boardinghouse. He’d always been one to turn the other cheek or walk away in a confrontation, but he drew the line when it came to his sister. Liana, three years his junior, had followed him everywhere as a child. She may have been an annoyance but he always made time for her.
Boys in their neighborhood learned quickly not to mess over the Grace girl or they would have to deal with her big brother. The first time was when ten-year-old Liana came home crying because a neighbor’s teenage son had touched her inappropriately. Keaton had faced down both father and son, who vehemently accused Liana of lying. It ended only when Scott Grace warned his neighbor to keep his son away from his daughter or he would have him arrested for attempted rape. Scott wasn’t issuing an idle threat, because his brother-in-law happened to be the police commissioner. Several months later the fifteen-year-old was arrested and charged with sexual assault on another prepubescent girl. Within a month of the boy entering a juvenile detention center his parents sold their house and moved away.
Flopping down on the bed, Keaton stared up at the shadows on the ceiling. Every time he was confronted with a crisis in his life it involved a woman. First there was Jade and now it was Liana. He planned to talk to his brother-in-law and hopefully resolve the problem between him and his wife amicably. He’d witnessed the fallout of ugly divorces when a few of his friends’ parents decided to end their marriages. There were no winners, but he always felt the children suffered the greatest loss.
He knew that was one of the reasons he’d been so reluctant to marry. His mother had called him selfish, thinking that he just didn’t want to share his life with a woman. Keaton wanted to tell Sophia Grace that she was wrong. If he found a woman who respected his solitary nature and understood his ambition to make movies, then he was willing to share his life and future with her. Making films for black actors was much harder. He wanted Grace Lowcountry to tear down the barriers, specifically those faced by actresses of color—some of whom had to wait years for a role to showcase their talent.
His gaze shifted to the three scripts on the table with his laptop and printer. There had been a time when he was tempted to send them out to major film companies. Each time he made the attempt something stopped him. He wasn’t a superstitious person, but when he discussed the possibility of setting up his own production company with Devon she’d championed his idea. The more he thought about it the more it became a reality in his mind. Why work that hard for someone else when he could put in all of the effort for himself?
Keaton wasn’t looking forward to flying to L.A. If he’d given Devon power of attorney to close on the L.A. property, then he would be able to remain on Cavanaugh Island. But there was also the problem with his sister and brother-in-law. Thankfully he would have to make only one trip to resolve both issues.
He didn’t want to think about not seeing Francine. It was as if he’d stepped back in time when he sat in the audience transfixed by her riveting performance. When the curtain had come down for the last and final time he hadn’t been able to tell himself it was over. That if he wanted to see her again, he would have to buy a ticket for another performance.
Meeting her in person and spending time with her forced him to understand it wasn’t just her acting that had attracted him to her. It went deeper—as if they were connected or destined to meet in another lifetime.
Never one to question fate, Keaton decided to let destiny play out to see where it would lead him.