“I cannot stay. I shouldn’t stay,” I said to her.
“But why?” Jamie’s cheeks and neck were flushed, and her hair fell around her shoulders. I knew exactly what she would look like without her clothes.
God, I wanted her so badly.
“Because we have to do this the right way,” I said. “Get to know each other in a different way than just sex.”
She stopped swaying to the music and looked up at me with big blue eyes. Eyes that melted my resolve. “Is that what you want? To get to know me better?”
“Yes, without sex getting in the way. I’m an old-fashioned guy, remember.”
“Your kiss made me forget that for a moment,” she said in a wry tone.
I smiled and traced her swollen lips with the pad of my thumb. “I want to stay. Trust me. I’d love nothing more than to take you into that bedroom and do everything I’m imagining. However, I respect you too much for that. We agreed to erase that night from our current situation, right?”
“Did we?” Her forehead creased.
“Yes, we did. Which means we need to date properly before we get back into bed together.” My self-control was precarious at best. If she only knew how badly I wanted her. Because as much as we claimed to have put that night away, I remembered it. I remembered her. Every inch of her.
“Leave it to me to find the last old-fashioned guy on the planet.” Her breathing had returned to normal. I didn’t know if I was glad or not.
“Would you like some more wine?” I asked.
“That’s not what I want, but sure.”
“We can read more of the journal,” I suggested, knowing she would like the distraction.
She brightened. “You get the wine and meet me back here.”
* * *
We were like amateur sleuths, the two of us. I hadn’t been as excited to read something in a while, and that was saying something. I opened the journal to the page after the one we’d already read.
“You read this time,” Jamie said. “I’ll listen.”
“Yes, sure.” As a teacher, I was used to reading out loud. Yet now, in the cozy living room of the girl I was starting to fall for, my tongue seemed to have tripled in size. Regardless, I began.
September 20, 1924
The Hunting family sent for me only two weeks ago, asking that I come to Florida to make the wedding dress for their eldest daughter, as well as dresses for the bridesmaids and Mrs. Hunting, mother of the bride. I didn’t want to go so far away. Florida! The swamp. No, my husband said, you must go. It will be a chance to see the ocean. I begged him to go with me, but he said he couldn’t leave his brother to do all of the work at the shop. Since my business does not fully pay our bills or for the fine house we had built, I understood his logic. But I also knew that he was a simple man. One who did not want to leave the comfort of his own home and community. He had not left since his arrival as a young man and probably won’t again. As much as I adore him, this frustrates me a little. We’re not exactly newlyweds. I could bear to be apart from him for a month or two. Or could I?
I thought my sister Quinn would try to talk me out of it, but she, too, thought it was a grand idea. An opportunity to meet the kind of people willing to pay for my craftsmanship (or woman-ship in this case) would open up another world to me. Knowing they were both right, I plucked up my courage and am now sitting on a train on my way to Florida. The woman next to me is snoring rather loudly. Not that I could sleep anyway. I’m already homesick, and I miss my husband.
“It’s not the life I thought I would have,” I’d told Quinn. “I thought it would be a traditional life with a husband and children.”
“Alas, the Lord has provided a different kind of life altogether,” Quinn said. “There’s no use to fight against it. You must go where the fates take you. Look at me.”
She often mentioned how her life had changed and fallen into the right place when she came to Colorado. My sister took on the raising of five of her widowed husband’s children and then had two more of her own. A happy seven. Whereas I have none. We tried, of course. The pain of it takes my breath away. I’ve thrown myself into my work, growing my business year after year until now I’ve been summoned to Florida by the Huntings. What awaits me? I cannot know. I must only fulfill the promise I made to Clive and Quinn—to be brave and do my very best.
I looked up at Jamie. She was on the couch curled up in one corner. “This is a great mystery. Do we have time to read one more?”
I nodded. “But after that, I should head home. School starts early.”
“Okay, just one more.”
She was so cute, like a kid begging for another chapter before going to sleep, that I wanted to kiss her again. I held back, however, practicing that annoying self-control once more.
I’ve arrived in Florida and have been shown to my room in this giant house. Only the head of housekeeping was here to greet me. The family was out at a neighbor’s beach but would be back in time for evening cocktails. I was instructed to dress for dinner and that we would enjoy our meal on the terrace that overlooks the sea. This house! I’ve no idea how many square feet, but it seems as large as a resort.
The Hunting estate is built on the beach. It’s ungodly hot, and I’ve opened the windows to allow the ocean breeze into the room. My view looks out to the blue water and the white sand. From here, I spotted large-beaked pelicans and a few other birds I didn’t recognize.
I’d been picked up at the railroad station by one of their staff, apologetic that no one from the family was available to greet me. I assured him that it was no matter. I was only one of the staff, really, here to do a task.
“And what a great one it will be, Mrs. Higgins.” I don’t know what he meant by that, but I’m trying not to be worried. I can handle whatever comes my way. My needle and thread have never let me down.
Palm trees line the driveway toward the house. I was sweating in my dress and thankful for the open top of the car, even though I had to hold on to my hat for fear it would become loosened by the intense jostling as we bounced down the dirt driveway.
Then we came upon the estate. Oh my goodness, it’s beautiful. The house looks like a painting, all white with pillars holding up a long front porch. Beyond that, the sea.
I unpacked and changed into a sleeveless cotton dress. Happy to be done with them, I discarded my stockings and stood under the shade of my patio awning watching the waves roll gently into shore. It was not like the ocean had been in Boston, cold and frightening at times. This was a gentle beast, with waves small and harmless.
The air, albeit hot, felt good on my bare skin. Dinner was still hours away, and I was contemplating a walk on the beach. I longed to put my feet into the water, which the housekeeper told me was warm here on the Gulf. I’d told her about the cold, clear waters of our creeks and rivers, and she’d said the thought of them made her thirsty.
Deciding I must be brave, I risked being seen in my bare feet and stockingless legs to head out to the beach. The sand was hot under my feet and so fine that it felt a little like walking on air. I hustled to the shore, anxious to cool my toes in the water. The water was not a disappointment, warm and smelling of seaweed and brine.
“Excuse me? What are you doing here?”
I jumped at the sound of a man’s voice and turned to see who it belonged to. Flushing at the sight of him, I stammered an explanation. “I’m here by the family’s invitation.” He wore nothing but a swim outfit, his skin tanned and golden. He was golden all around, actually, with yellow hair and blue eyes that matched the sea behind him. Saltwater crusted on his skin and made the bleached hair of his arms even whiter.
“And who might you be?” He looked at me with cold, suspicious eyes.
He might look angelic, but his personality didn’t match his appearance.
“I’m Mrs. Higgins. The wedding dress designer.” My straw hat wavered as a sudden gust of wind brought an intense scent of fish.
“Designer? Is that what you call it? I thought you were merely a seamstress.”
I lifted my chin, annoyed by this rude man who didn’t know the first thing about what I did. Obviously, by the way he was looking at me as if I were a joke of some kind. “I design the patterns as well as sew them, so yes, I am, in fact, a designer.” I glared at him, hoping I looked defiant instead of intimidated, which was the truth.
“I stand corrected.” A slight smile tugged at the corners of his full mouth. I couldn’t be sure, but he seemed to be around my age of thirty. No wedding ring on his left hand, I noted, but there was a white, untanned spot where one would have been. Had he recently lost his wife? “I’m Bromley Hunting. Uncle of the bride.”
“Oh, well, yes, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hunting.”
“It’s actually Dr. Hunting, but you may call me Bromley.” He peered down at me. His eyes were the most extraordinary color. Blue without a speck of anything else—no yellow or green spots for Bromley Hunting. He was too well-bred for such imperfections.
“What kind of doctor are you?”
“The medical kind,” Bromley said. “I was a medic in the war and came home to become a doctor.”
“What a good thing to do.” His family was rich. He’d not needed to become a doctor for the income, I suspected. But then again, neither had my nephew, Theo. Some men were drawn to healing, I supposed.
“It’s my medical opinion that you’re going to burn under this sun.” Bromley gestured toward my fair skin. It was true. I could already see freckles popping up on my forearms. “And is it red hair under that hat?”
Self-consciously, I touched my low bun with the tips of my fingers. Drat, my hair. Always such an attention-getter. I wore it long instead of bobbed like the younger women, and right now it felt hot and thick on my neck. “Not that it’s your concern, but yes. I’m a redhead.” I decided right then to give him some of his own cheeky medicine. “And you know what they say about redheads?”
“No, what do they say?”
“They say the devil gave us red hair so people would know we were coming. And not in peace.”
A burst of laughter rose from his chest. More of a chortle than a laugh. Regardless, it made me flush hotter. “I see. We have a feisty one here. Indeed, your red hair suits you.”
Instinctually, I moved closer to the shore, hoping a wave would break near me and splash my legs and arms. In addition, it was extremely uncomfortable to be in the presence of a man wearing only his bathing costume. I could see almost every part of him. Every bronzed, muscular inch.
“Is your wife with you?” I asked, hoping to distract myself from the scandalous thoughts his sunbaked skin evoked.
“No, she’s not. In fact, she’s no longer my wife.” He rubbed his thumb over the spot where his wedding ring must have resided not long ago. “We are divorced, as of a few weeks ago.”
Divorced. I couldn’t believe it. I’d never known anyone to get divorced.
His eyes had darkened. I imagined a cloud covering the sun, even though it was bright in the sky. “It’s a long story,” he said. “Of scandal and humiliation. She found someone she preferred more than me, and now she shall have him.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to say.
“Would you care to take a swim?” Bromley asked. “You seem hot.”
“I am hot. But I’ve no bathing costume.” Why hadn’t I thought to bring one? I’d not imagined the beach to be this pretty or the temperatures to be this warm.
“No matter. I’ll have Elsa find one for you. Unless you’d like to design one yourself?”
That made me laugh.
I didn’t swim with him because about then the rest of the family appeared, walking through the sand from the northern direction. They carried umbrellas and picnic baskets. An older gentleman with a thick mustache dangled a straw hat from one hand while linking his other one through that of what must be his wife. She was a grand lady, dressed in white and wearing an enormous hat with a scarlet ribbon that danced in the breeze. A younger woman, slim and graceful, clad in a yellow linen dress and small-brimmed white hat, trailed slightly behind. No shoes, I noticed, feeling thankful I wasn’t the only one. Perhaps they did that here in Florida?
“The rest of the clan,” Bromley said. “Perfect timing, as always.”
I was introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Hunting and their daughter, Cordelia. The bride. She was as pretty as her surroundings. Slim and petite, she would be easy to design a dress for.
I’m now back in my room and preparing for dinner. They’ve kindly sent a maid to help, but I told them I was accustomed to dressing myself. I’m apprehensive of dinner and hope that Bromley won’t be there.
The entry ended there. “That’s it for tonight.” I shut the journal, wishing I could keep reading.
Jamie had picked up her phone and was staring at it intently. “Looking up the Hunting family,” she said as if I’d asked. “I found them.” Her lips moved as she read whatever it was she’d found. Finally, she looked up, triumphant. “I thought I’d heard of them before. They were early developers in Florida. The company is still run by the family. They build custom homes, it looks like.”
“She fell for this Bromley guy,” I said. “And what about poor Clive?He doesn’t stand a chance.”
“No, she comes back, though,” Jamie said. “She comes back to Clive. We know that because of the photos I found in the inn. They were together after 1928.”
“Until he died in 1936, right?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Jamie said.
“So she came home and did the right thing,” I said. “Even though it cost her.”
“It appears so.”
“Can you love two people at the same time?” I asked. “It doesn’t seem like something I could do.”
Jamie smiled. “Not you, no. But maybe Annabelle.”