Chapter Twenty

You look like crap.”

Francine affected a wry smile. “Thanks, Mo, for the compliment.”

Morgan gave her a direct stare. “Well, you do. In fact, you look like something the cat dragged in. Speaking of cats, you can pick up the kitten for your grandmother any time you want. Now tell me. What’s the matter?”

Francine had spent the past three nights tossing, turning, crying, and racked with guilt. Keaton was right. She was a hypocrite. She talked about not being able to trust Aiden when she hadn’t trusted Keaton enough to confide in him about the identity of her ex-husband. She’d taken a chance and stopped by Morgan’s office in the hope that her friend would be there.

“Keaton and I had a disagreement.”

Morgan waved her hand. “What makes you think you’re exempt from disagreeing with your partner? Nate and I agree on most things but not everything.”

“It’s different with me and Keaton.”

“What makes it different, Fran?” Morgan asked.

“I insisted on honesty from him when I wasn’t able to give him the same.”

Morgan picked up the phone and tapped the extension of the design firm’s receptionist/office manager. “Patrice, please hold my calls. I’m going to be in the lounge.” She hung up. “Come in the back with me so we can talk in private.”

She followed her friend into the lounge and sat next to her on the leather love seat. It was as if time stood still when Francine confided in Morgan as she’d done when they were in high school. “I’ve lost him, Mo, because I can’t seem to let go of what I had with Aiden. I haven’t been fair to Keaton or myself.”

“Does he love you, Fran?”

A sensual smile parted her lips. “Yes. He loves me and I love him.”

“Has he asked you to marry him?” Francine nodded. Morgan compressed her lips in frustration, dimples deepening in her cheeks. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him I need time.”

Morgan’s right hand came down hard on the leather seat cushion. “Time for what, Francine Tanner! You’re a grown-ass woman who doesn’t need anyone’s permission or approval to marry this man. A lot of women on Cavanaugh Island are just waiting for you to kick him to the curb so they can have a shot. And trust me, he won’t stay available when they start tossing their panties in his direction. After all, he is a man.”

Francine narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, Fran. You know exactly what I mean. Men have needs just like we have needs. You may have divorced Aiden on paper, but emotionally you’re still connected to him when I’m certain he’s not letting losing you affect his life.”

“He didn’t lose me. He left me.”

“Big whoop! He may have left you because as a parasite he moved onto another host. Please don’t let Keaton get away or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Don’t be stubborn, Fran. Go after your man.”

Francine stared at her folded hands in her lap. She knew Morgan was right. For the past eight years she’d allowed Aiden to dictate her life and if she didn’t let him go she would never be able to rid herself of his invisible hold. “You’re right, Mo. I can’t lose him. Not when I’ve been given a second chance at love.”

“That’s my girl. I happen to know where he is at this very moment.”

Her gaze met Morgan’s. “Where is he?”

Morgan grinned like a Cheshire cat. “He called Abram, because he’s expecting a furniture delivery. He needs Abram’s assistance with where things should be placed.”

Leaning over, Francine hugged Morgan. “Thanks, Mo. I’m going to get my man.”

“That’s my girl!”

Francine was practically running when she went to retrieve her car from the lot behind the row of shops along Main Street. She slipped into the low-slung sports car. Within seconds the engine roared to life and she shifted and maneuvered out of the lot with the skill of a NASCAR driver. It was the first time since she’d begun driving that she didn’t heed the island’s unofficial speed limit. Francine ignored the curious stares as she shifted into a higher gear, increasing her speed. She drove past her house in a red blur, slowing only when she turned off onto the road leading to Keaton’s. It was as if she were seeing it for the first time. The coat of white paint shimmered in the bright early afternoon sunlight. Parking alongside Keaton’s BMW, Francine got out of the Corvette and walked up the porch steps, finding the front door unlocked. She saw Keaton and Abram sitting on folding chairs in the empty living room. Abram noticed her first.

“Hey, Francine. What’s up?”

She smiled at the interior decorator. “Hi, Abram. How’s it going?”

“Good. Real good. You need to see me?”

“No, Abram. I came to see, Keaton.” Keaton stood up as if in slow motion. It was obvious he hadn’t expected to see her. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but we need to talk. Out on the porch, please,” she added when he glanced over at Abram.

Keaton had been wondering what it would feel like to be sentenced to live out his days in complete isolation, because that was what he’d been experiencing since he walked out of Francine’s apartment three days ago. He got up and went through the motions of showering and changing his clothes because he’d been conditioned to start his day that way. But he hadn’t shaved in two days and the stubble was beginning to itch, yet he welcomed the discomfort. He hadn’t realized how much a part of his existence she’d become until he discovered he couldn’t just pick up the phone and talk to her as he’d done before. She needed time and he’d given it to her. He’d told her he also needed time but within an hour of driving back to the Cove Inn he knew he still wanted to marry her.

“Are you sleeping okay?” It was the first thing he could think of to say to Francine. Her green eyes appeared lighter because of the dark circles that indicated that she was either not sleeping or she wasn’t feeling well.

“No,” she replied. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

Leaning against a column holding up the porch, Keaton gave her a long, penetrating stare. “What about?”

Tilting her chin in a defiant gesture, she smiled. “Us.”

His impassive expression did not change when he held his breath. If she was going to walk away from him he was determined to never let her see his pain. “What about us, Francine?”

“I love you, Keaton, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. As your wife and the mother of our children.”

Keaton took a step, bringing them inches apart. “When?”

“June. I’ve always wanted to be a June bride.”

He extended his hands and wasn’t disappointed when Francine took them. Folding her to his chest, Keaton closed his eyes and whispered a prayer of gratitude. “I was hoping you’d say next week.”

Leaning back in his embrace, Francine smiled through the tears turning her eyes into pools of fluorescent green. “There’s no way my parents will be able to plan a wedding in a week. And what about your family, Keaton? They will need time—”

Keaton’s explosive kiss stopped her protest. He wasn’t disappointed when she pressed her breasts to his chest as she deepened the kiss. He was willing to marry Francine tomorrow but knew it wouldn’t be fair to her, or to their families. He’d waited more than forty years for a woman like Francine to come into his life and three months would come and go quickly.

“When do you want to announce our engagement?” he whispered against her slightly swollen lips.

“On my birthday.”

“When’s your birthday, sweetie?”

“St. Patrick’s Day.”

“Don’t tell me my serving wench has a bit of Irish in her?”

Throwing back her head, Francine laughed. “Aye, milord. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, milady.” He kissed her again, pulling back when he heard the approach of a truck with the living room and kitchen furniture. “To be continued,” he whispered in her ear.

Francine sat opposite Keaton at the table in the Tanners’ formal dining room. It was St. Patrick’s Day and everyone had worn green to celebrate the festive holiday. Mavis and Dinah had outdone themselves when they cooked all of her favorite dishes. Morgan, Nate, Kara, Jeff, and David had been invited to help her celebrate her thirty-fourth birthday. Keaton had also invited Devon to join them.

Frank tapped his water glass with a knife. “I’d like to thank everyone for coming to help celebrate my baby’s birthday.” He ignored Francine when she pushed out her lips. “I know she doesn’t like it when I refer to her as my baby, but that’s who she’ll always be to me. This birthday is very special not only because I’m sitting here with the women who’ve made me the happiest man on Cavanaugh Island, but also because there’s a man sitting at my table whom I’m honored to think of as a son.” He raised his glass in Keaton’s direction. “Keaton. Welcome to the family.”

Morgan looked at Francine, then Keaton. She’d taken to wearing oversize blouses to conceal her expanding waistline. “Are we missing something?”

Reaching into the pocket of her blouse, Francine took out the ring Keaton had slipped on her finger earlier that morning. She held it up for everyone to see as Keaton came around the table. He took it from her and dropped to one knee. “Milady,” he said in a dead-on aristocratic British accent, “I knew when I entered the tavern and saw you for the first time what I had been missing. Your beauty, your wit, and a well-turned ankle caused me many sleepless nights. I must admit you were quite a challenge, but as someone used to giving and not taking orders I am willing to offer you my title and protection if you would become my wife.”

Francine felt everyone staring at her and Keaton. She knew she was about to give the performance of her lifetime: accepting Keaton’s proposal with her family and friends as witnesses. “Milord, I did not reject your advances outright but I had to make certain you were not toying with my affections. Although a serving wench, me mum and father raised me to be a lady despite our lowly station. You have proven yourself noble; therefore, I will marry thee.” Keaton slipped the ring on her finger. A chorus of gasps and applause went up from those seated at the table.

“Bravo!” Dinah yelled loudly.

“I knew it, I knew it,” Kara crowed loudly.

Morgan hugged Francine, as tears streamed down her face. “Fran, I told you you’d find someone worthy of your love.”

One by one she received hugs and kisses from those sitting around the table. She and Keaton had planned to take a few days off to fly up to Pittsburgh to meet his family. They decided not to set a wedding date until they conferred with the Graces. Francine knew for certain it would take place on Cavanaugh Island, because there was nothing more spectacular than a Lowcountry beach wedding. She and Keaton posed for photos as everyone took out their cell phones.

“I love you, milord,” she whispered.

“Fancy that, maiden, because I love you, too,” Keaton said in her ear.

Francine had left the stage but her greatest performance was yet to be seen. The day she became Mrs. Keaton Grace she would give an award-winning performance spectators would talk about for years to come. “Do you see what I see?” she said under her breath.

“What is that?” Keaton questioned.

“Devon and David seem to be hitting it off well.” The very pretty lawyer was laughing at something David had said to her.

He gave his fiancée a mischievous smile. “I hope you’re not thinking of playing matchmaker.”

Francine rested her head on Keaton’s shoulder. “I just want everyone to be as happy as we are.”

Keaton dropped a kiss on her hair. “There are different degrees of happy and we haven’t even begun.”

She knew Keaton was right. Not only was she happy, but she was also grateful to share her birthday and engagement with people who loved her. The rooms in the house she would share with Keaton were filling up with furniture and when she finally moved in to live with her husband Francine knew they would begin traditions that would be passed down to another generation of Gullah Tanners. Keaton had revised his script, and although he realized she would never step in front of a camera again, she’d agreed to become a technical advisor for the first film to be released by Grace Lowcountry Productions.

A mysterious smile flitted over her mouth as she closed her eyes. She’d had another vision. This one showed Mavis cradling a baby. Her mother was going to get her wish. Francine would make her a grandmother.