Chapter 7
After three very strong drinks, a walk was in order. Dani always loved looking at the beautiful homes all around the historic district. In her opinion, the best ones were on South Front, and then Third Street. They began on South Front, the street closest to downtown and the river. The houses were mostly from the early 1900s. Victorian and Georgian-style architecture reigned supreme. Front Street had enough land that many of the houses were set up on the hill, away from the sidewalks. Most had rocking chair front porches and upper decks. Some had iron-wrought fences. Many had turrets and were painted in ocean colors: blue-gray, and sea blue, and light aqua. Christmas decorations were classy, and subtle. Hanging wreaths, and lights, and one with a horse and carriage outlined in lights on the lawn. Many of the houses were so large they were being used as bed and breakfasts. Sawyer’s camera was constantly clicking.
“I can see why you like it here, Bright,” he said. “It’s beautiful. Almost frozen in time.”
“Why, Sawyer Drake. You sounded somewhat poetic there.”
“And you sound surprised.”
“You’re saying you’re a poet?”
“And you didn’t even know it.”
“Har har.”
“Why don’t you stand in front of the lion’s head over there.”
“Me? I’m not supposed to be in the pictures.”
“Just do it.”
“Now who’s grouchy.” Dani went and stood in front of a pair of lions’ heads flanking an entrance.
“Would it be too much to ask you to look into the camera, and think of something that makes you happy?” Dani stared at the camera. She thought about Nate. “I said happy.” She thought about her parents, and sister, all the way in California. Sawyer put the camera down. “Are you crying?”
“No.” Dani wiped away the tears.
“You leave me no choice,” Sawyer said. He crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. Dani laughed. He snapped the picture. “From now on—two Dark and Stormy drinks are your limit, Bright.”
“Do you have enough for now?”
“Why? Do you want to go back to the sailboat and resist the urge to jump into bed with me?”
“I was thinking I’d like to go to the Italian market and get a latte.”
“That’ll do,” Sawyer said. To Dani’s surprise he took her arm and began to walk with her back toward downtown.
“Ice cream, whiskey, and now caffeine,” Dani commented.
“The three wise men,” Sawyer said. Despite herself, Dani laughed again. Against her better judgment, she had to admit. Sawyer Drake had charm in spades.
The little coffeehouse was right next door to an Italian market. The market had wine, and pastas, and olive oils, and Italian dishes and delicacies. The coffeehouse was homey, with a sofa in the back and tables and chairs by the window. Local photography hung on the walls, and pretty, young college girls worked the register. Dani had always loved sitting right by the window and writing. Her favorite table was just being evacuated, and Dani practically jumped on top of it in order to save it. Sawyer snapped a picture.
“Stop taking my picture,” Dani said.
“You’re body-surfing a table,” Sawyer said. “Impossible not to snap that action.” Dani tried to gracefully get off the table, and then began pushing all the used cups to the side. Sawyer shook his head and picked them up. “What can I get you, ma’am?”
“You’re buying?” she asked.
“Adel’s buying,” he said. “I have a company credit card.”
“She gave you a company credit card?” Adel never gave Dani a company credit card and she’d been there two years!
“Are you going to get in a huff, or are you going to give me your order?”
“Can’t I do both? I’m an excellent multitasker.”
“One regular latte coming up.”
“No, no, no. I’ll have a Pecan Pie Latte with whipped cream and caramel,” Dani said.
“Of course you will,” Sawyer said. “Do you want that in a waffle cone?”
“Har, har.”
“Right back with your high-maintenance order,” he said with a wink. Dani sat back, smiling despite herself, and watched as the college girls lit up at the sight of him. Good God. It was like a superpower. So why was she so immune to it? Was it at all possible that the reason she was always so irritated by him was that she wanted to swoon just as much as everyone else, but the very thought so irked her that she pushed him away instead?
Sawyer was right, next time two drinks would be her limit. Nate never irritated her the way Sawyer did. Oh, Nate irritated her plenty, but not in a way that made her squirm. Nate exasperated her. Especially how stubborn he was about staying in Wilmington the rest of his life. And now look at him. London of all places. She just couldn’t picture it. He’d told her it was partly because of her that he was going. Because he regretted losing her to New York. So now he was going to London because he was afraid of losing Anya. Fear wasn’t a good reason to get married and move across the pond. She was doing him a favor by trying to break up this wedding.
Sawyer was just returning with their drinks—more whipped cream than Dani had ever been given—when a petite woman with white hair styled in a bob walked in. Dani immediately leapt to her feet, sloshing her latte on her top. Sawyer was instantly dabbing a napkin on her chest. His fingers accidentally grazed her breast, sending a tingle all the way down to Dani’s toes. She grabbed the napkin from him and stepped back.
“Sorry,” he said. He seemed just as stunned.
“Mrs. Hathaway,” Dani called. The woman stopped. For several minutes she stood in the middle of the coffeehouse, her back to Dani. Finally, she slowly turned around.
“Danielle,” Ruth Hathaway said. Dani couldn’t read anything in her tone.
“Merry Christmas,” Dani said. She stepped forward, then looked down at her blouse. Ruth had only hugged her once, anyway, the morning of that horrific Christmas Eve. And that was only because she thought Dani was about to become her grand-daughter-in-law. Ruth Hathaway’s gaze fell on Sawyer.
“He’s a colleague,” Dani said. “A photographer.” Sawyer smiled at Ruth Hathaway and stuck out his hand.
“Ma’am,” he said. Ruth Hathaway glanced at his hand, and then pulled hers in protectively against her stomach.
“It’s the cold season,” she said. “I don’t shake hands during the cold season.”
“My apologies. I don’t blame you at all.” Sawyer grinned. Ruth pursed her lips. Was she always such a snob? Danielle wondered. Probably. Dani had just never seen her through that lens.
“Are you here to apologize to Nathaniel?” Ruth asked Danielle.
“Mrs. Hathaway—”
“Oh, call me Ruth.”
Call her Ruth? That was odd. “Ruth. I’ve been apologizing to Nate for the past two years. I’ve written. I’ve called. He’s never responded to a single attempt.”
“He’s always been sensitive. And what a fuss he went to that evening. It was an absolutely mortifying experience for him.”
“I know. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
Ruth put her hand up, then brushed a stray hair off her cheek and placed her hands back against her stomach. “That’s the past, Danielle. I’m quite sure you’ve heard of his plans for the future?”
“Yes.” Here it came. Ruth was going to forbid Dani from coming anywhere near Nate until he was married.
“And I assume you’re as displeased as I am?”
Danielle’s head snapped up. Ruth stared at her intently. “Yes,” Dani said. “Yes, I am.”
“And if you had the chance, a little Christmas miracle—tell me, Danielle. You wouldn’t dare hurt my Nathaniel again, would you?”
“No. No, I wouldn’t. Of course not. But he—”
“And would you drop all this New York nonsense and settle down here with Nate, where you both belong?”
“Yes. Yes, I would.”
“Very well, then. What are we going to do to run off these British imperialists?”
“What are we going to do to run off these British imperialists?” Sawyer said. It was in perfect imitation of Ruth Hathaway. They were sitting in the lower cabin of the sailboat. It was large enough for two small sofas facing each other and a small kitchen. Danielle had to laugh when Sawyer did his imitation, he even had the facial expression—pursed lips, drawn cheekbones, raised eyebrow—down to a tee.
“You have to cut her some slack,” Dani said after she’d finished laughing. “Her family has deep roots here. To her the American Revolution was yesterday.”
“So I assume their family kept slaves, as well?”
“Ouch.”
“It’s an honest question.”
“She doesn’t speak of it, but there are plantations in her family, so of course they did.”
“Grim.”
“Indeed. Wilmington is part of the South when it comes to that. But the town does its best to own up to their history. The Bellamy Mansion, and the Latimer House, and Burgwin-Wright House, all talk about slavery on their tours, as well as give tours of the slave quarters.”
“Can’t wait.”
“I think it’s important to remember.”
“Of course. It’s also important to recognize every time we are prejudiced against someone, no matter who, we are backsliding into the mentality of our horrific past.”
“I agree a hundred—wait a minute. Are you talking about Anya?”
“Do you think it’s fair that Ruth Hathaway is judging the poor girl just because she’s British?”
Danielle just looked at him. “I’m sure there’s a lot more wrong with her than that.”
“Oh, you are, are you? Based on what? The fact that she’s helped his career? Encouraged him to move outside his comfort zone?”
“Encouraged him? He’s moving to London out of fear.”
“You don’t know that.”
“He told me! He told me it was because of me that he was moving. He said he regretted not moving to New York City to be with me and he doesn’t want to make the same mistake with her.”
“I see.”
“What do you see?”
“What’s next on our list of things to shoot?”
Danielle didn’t know why Sawyer suddenly put the brakes on their conversation about Nate, but she didn’t understand men in general and she wasn’t going to belabor it. “We can go to Airlee Gardens tonight.”
“Great. I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when it’s dark.” The sailboat had two bedrooms: one to the right of the living room, and the other on the opposite side past the kitchen and the bathroom.
Danielle stood as Sawyer made a move to the smaller bedroom. “Wait. What did I say?”
“Nothing. I need a nap. And if you don’t mind, I didn’t exactly come here to discuss Nate Hathaway ad nauseam.”
“Our assignment is to see if I can get him back.”
“Our assignment is ‘A Southern Christmas’.”
“You think I should be nicer to Anya, is that it?”
Sawyer didn’t answer. He disappeared into the bedroom and slid the door shut. Danielle was too wound up to sleep. She went up to the deck with her cell phone. The water was calm, and in the distance lights twinkled on the Cape Fear Memorial Bridge. The USS North Carolina was stark against the afternoon sky. Danielle took a deep breath and called Nate. His voice mail kicked on. Was he screening?
“Nate. Hi, it’s Danielle. I was wondering if you and Anya would like to meet me at Airlee Gardens this evening. We have to do a shoot for the magazine and so I can get us in free. I thought it might be nice to get to know Anya. I think featuring not only your artwork in the magazine but your wedding, as well, would be great for our feature. I ran into your grandmother today and she was thrilled with the idea—” His phone cut her off. There, she’d done it. Invited him. And lied to him about his grandmother.
Sawyer was right about one thing. Dani hated Anya just because she loved and was marrying Nate. She had no idea whether or not Anya was a good person. Maybe if she had met her without knowing who she was, she would have assumed she was a good person until proven otherwise. But why did Sawyer have to be so judgmental himself? Wasn’t all fair in love and war? Wasn’t Dani at war? So in a way, she was doing a feature on The War on Christmas anyway. Except hers was personal. Didn’t this woman realize that Nate had suggested they marry on Christmas Eve because he was terrified of another woman rejecting him on the same date? Didn’t that tell her something about Nate’s state of mind? And if Dani and Nate were meant to be together, wasn’t she actually doing Anya a big favor even if she didn’t see it that way? And why, if she was so in love with Nate, was Dani picturing Sawyer Drake all by himself in that little bed, behind a door that would be so easy to slide open?