Chapter Eleven

If someone had told him three weeks ago he’d be driving a rattletrap van down a Georgia back road to buy a bicycle for his son’s birthday, he’d have thought that person was hallucinating. Tyler stretched, pressing his hands against the steering wheel.

“This thing isn’t exactly built for comfort, is it?”

Miranda smiled, as if at some level she enjoyed his fish-out-of-water discomfort. “We couldn’t have fit the bike in your rental car very easily, could we?”

“Guess you have a point there.” At least he’d been able to convince her to let him drive. He gave her a sideways glance. Miranda looked less wary today, as if she might almost enjoy this trek with him to buy their son’s birthday present.

She hadn’t given him an answer yet on going to Charleston on the weekend. He sensed her reluctance without understanding it. With a little luck and tact, on today’s expedition he could prove to her that they could be in each other’s company for two days without coming to blows, especially since Sammy would be with them.

“The shop is just ahead there.” Miranda pointed to a bright blue cement-block building.

Tyler pushed aside thoughts of the weekend. He’d better concentrate on getting into the bike shop parking lot without hitting any of the numerous potholes. Each one made the van shiver as if it had a bad case of the flu.

Miranda should have better transportation than this. He took a cautious look at that idea, surprised. It wasn’t his business or his responsibility what Miranda drove. So where had that impulse come from to buy her a nice, safe vehicle?

She slipped out of the van without waiting for him to open the door and scurried to the shop. He followed, a little amused. She obviously intended to keep him from paying his share if she could.

That had to be a first in his adult life. Most people were only too ready to let the Winchester bank account foot any bill.

Not Miranda. All those years of raising Sammy without his support—how on earth had she managed? Her family had helped, obviously, but as far as he could tell, Clayton and Sallie were just getting by.

By the time he reached Miranda, the salesman was showing her a bright red bicycle, and she was reaching for her bag.

He caught her hand, stilling the movement. “Let’s have a look first.”

For an instant she pulled against his grip. Then she stopped, maybe realizing how childish that was. She nodded toward the shiny bike. “What do you think of it?”

He surveyed the two-wheeler, wondering how many years it had been since he’d ridden one and what exactly they should look for in a bike for a just-turned-eight-year-old. “Are you sure the wider tires are what he wants?”

“That question proves you haven’t ridden a bike on the island lately. You have to have wide tires to make it through the sand.” She grinned. “That’s why old Mary Lou works so well. You could take back those disparaging remarks about her any time now.”

That lighthearted smile reminded him of the younger Miranda. “I’ll have to take your word for it. I haven’t done much bicycling lately. What about a helmet?”

The salesman jumped in immediately. “We have a nice selection of children’s helmets right over here.”

Miranda hesitated. “I think there’s an old one in the garage he could use.”

He saw into her mind so clearly. She was counting up how much money was in her bag, wondering if she had enough to pay for it.

“I’m getting the helmet, and anything else he needs to go with it.”

Her mouth was set. “I just agreed to let you go halves on the bike.”

“I have a lot of birthdays to make up for, remember?” he said softly. Her betraying flush told him the shot had gone home. He took her arm. “Let’s go look at the helmets.”

He hadn’t intended to remind her of that today, not when he was trying to persuade her to go to Charleston for the weekend. They followed the clerk past racks of bicycles. But he could be just as stubborn as she could, and he had a right to get his son whatever he wanted for his birthday.

The salesman, apparently sensing a customer who intended to spend money, got into the spirit of the thing. By the time they’d finished, they’d added not just the helmet but also a biking jersey, water bottle and cage and a pack that fit on the handlebars, just in case Sammy wanted to carry anything with him.

“Will that be all?” The salesman sounded hopeful.

Tyler looked at Miranda. “Sure you won’t let me get a new bike for you?”

“My old one is fine.” Apparently deciding not to take offense, she let an impish twinkle appear in her eyes. It made her look like Sammy. “What about you? We ought to get a bike for you, so you can ride with Sammy.”

She was challenging him, he suspected, but if she thought she’d throw him off track, she was going to be disappointed.

“Good idea.” He looked at the salesman. “Let’s see something for me.”

The salesman practically rubbed his hands together.

He had never known buying a bike could be so complicated. After measurements, consultations with another clerk and Miranda’s insistence on a bike suitable for beach riding, they finally had him outfitted. He slapped his credit card on the counter before Miranda could reach for her wallet.

“Put it on this one.”

Miranda’s jaw set, and she pulled a wallet from her overstuffed shoulder bag. “I’m paying my half.”

“Let this be on me.” He couldn’t help trying to persuade her.

She held out the bills to him, arm stiff. “Take it.”

He tried to remember the last time a member of his family had repaid him for something. He couldn’t, and he knew suddenly that he’d have been disappointed if Miranda had given in.

Besides, if he wanted her cooperation on the weekend trip, he’d better let her have her way.

“I’ll take it, but only if you let me get lunch.”

“We don’t have to stop for lunch.”

“Maybe we don’t have to, but I’m hungry. Deal?”

She nodded, pushing the bills into his hand. “If that’s what you want.”

They each wheeled a bike out to the van. He had to admit, as they loaded their purchases, that it was good they’d brought the van, no matter how decrepit it looked.

“Okay.” He slammed the door. “Where’s a good place for lunch around here?”

“There are some fast-food places along the highway on the way home.”

He opened the door for her before she could grab the handle. “I might settle for fast food if Sammy were along, but I’d prefer something up a step or two.”

She smiled suddenly, as if deciding that she didn’t have a choice so she might as well get into the spirit of it. “A couple of miles down the road there’s a good seafood place.”

“Done.” He held her elbow while she climbed into the van. “I could eat a horse.”

 

A half-hour later, Tyler looked dubiously at the concoction of pink shrimp in creamy sauce atop a roll the waitress had just put down in front of him. “So this is a shrimp roll.”

“Hey, you said you didn’t want a fast-food burger.” Miranda bit into her sandwich with every sign of pleasure. “Shrimp rolls and sweet potato fries aren’t on most fast-food menus.”

He took a bite, nodded appreciatively and took another. At least Miranda had lost the mulish look she’d worn while insisting he take the money she offered.

He’d like to insist she accept all the support he’d missed out on the past eight years, but he was getting to know this grown-up version of the girl he’d married, and he knew she wouldn’t accept. One step at a time, that was the way to get what he wanted.

Now if he could just be sure what that was, he’d be all right.

Miranda set her iced tea glass on the blue-and-white checked tablecloth. Sweet tea, she’d called it. Another low-country thing, like shrimp rolls and sweet potato fries, he assumed.

“Did you manage to get things settled back at the office?” she said.

Are you going away? That was probably what she really wanted to ask him.

“I had a long conversation with Henry. He seems to think Josh is just nervous because he’s not used to my being out of the office, especially when a big deal is pending.”

She paused, roll halfway to her mouth. “Do you trust Henry’s opinions?”

That startled him. He wasn’t sure Henry, the perfect subordinate, had opinions.

“I trust Henry to do what I’ve instructed him to do. I’ve gone over every step of the deal with him, and I see no reason anything should go wrong.”

“It’s all right, then.”

“Yes.” He tried to ignore the niggling feeling of doubt. “I’ll talk with both Henry and Josh every day. By next Thursday it’ll be settled. The deal we’re offering is a good one. The buyers won’t get the quality of product we supply at a better price from anyone else.”

He glanced out the window at the marsh grasses bending in the breeze. What was he doing here when he had a deal pending? The Tyler Winchester he’d been a month ago wouldn’t have been caught dead anywhere but in the office, personally supervising every step of the deal.

But that Tyler Winchester hadn’t known he had a child. Sammy changed things, and Tyler was still trying to understand how.

Which reminded him of the answer he wanted. “Have you made a decision about going to Charleston with me on Saturday?”

Her lashes swept down, hiding her eyes. “Why is it so important to you?”

He reached across the table to grasp her hands, making her look at him. “This is for Sammy. I want him to see that I have another existence besides that of visiting dad. That’s a reasonable request, isn’t it?”

She looked as if she’d like to say no. “I suppose so. But we wouldn’t have to go to that benefit concert to show Sammy that. All of Charleston society will be there.”

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Why hadn’t he realized that? “You’ll do fine. You’ll probably be the prettiest woman there.”

“I won’t fit in.” She looked startled that she’d said it to him. “That sounds silly to you, I guess, but it’s true.”

He didn’t understand the emotion that lay beneath her words, but it warned him to proceed carefully.

“Not silly,” he said, clasping her hands. “But it is surprising. I haven’t seen you lacking any confidence in dealing with strangers. That’s what you do all the time at the inn, after all.”

“That’s different.” Her hands twisted in his, but she didn’t seem aware of the convulsive movement. “The inn is home. Believe me, I have vivid memories of how I didn’t fit in when we were married. It’s not an experience I’d care to repeat.”

It was the first time she’d spoken willingly of their marriage. He forced his mind to the couple of months that had changed both of their lives.

“I’m sorry,” he said slowly. “Maybe I was oblivious, but I didn’t realize the social side of things bothered you that much.”

“I was eighteen.” She yanked her hands free, anger flaring in her eyes. “I’d never been farther from home than Savannah. Of course it bothered me. I felt like a failure the whole time I was in Baltimore.”

“Miranda—” She obviously had painful memories he hadn’t even guessed at. “I didn’t realize. I’m sorry I was so blind to what you felt.”

Her brief flash of anger went out. “Forget it.”

He didn’t want to forget. He wanted to explain it in some way that would get both of them off the hook.

“My father’s death pitched both of us into something we weren’t ready for.”

She tried an unconvincing smile. “There’s no point in going over something that happened a lifetime ago. We were different people then.”

“That’s my point. You’re not eighteen now. You have enough poise and maturity to run the inn and raise our son. You can take on a few of my business associates, can’t you?”

Her smile turned a bit more genuine. “You sound like Gran.”

That seemed highly unlikely. “What did your grandmother say?”

“That I was a Caldwell woman, and they’re not afraid of anything. They took on the island and tamed it back when it was the wild frontier.” She gave a little laugh. “I told her I’d rather tackle an alligator than a society party, and she said that was the point. That the thing I feared was my frontier.”

“Your grandmother’s a wise woman.”

“She is.” Miranda’s gaze swept up to touch his face. “I don’t want to disappoint her. So I guess I’ll be going on Saturday.”

His fingers closed over hers again. “I’m glad.”

He felt unreasonably exhilarated at having gotten his way. But if Miranda was this skittish about a weekend in Charleston, what would she say if he broached the subject that had been hovering in the back of his mind for the past day or two?

What would Miranda say if he told her he thought the best way of taking care of Sammy was for them to get married again?

 

Tyler should look as out of place as a duck at a wedding, and instead he looked perfectly at ease as he guided her cousin Matt’s blindfolded youngest toward the piñata they’d hung from the dining room archway.

Well, she’d wanted him to be comfortable with the whole family here for Sammy’s birthday party. She just hadn’t expected him to find it that easy.

After their trip the day before to pick up the bicycle, they seemed to have moved to a different level of understanding. She was still trying to figure out what it was.

“You’ve got to give the man credit.” Her sister, Chloe, stopped pouring lemonade long enough to nod toward Tyler. “He’s trying.”

“Tyler doesn’t just try,” she said. He was holding the toddler up so she could get in a good swing with the plastic bat. “He stayed off the phone and away from the computer all day, he helped me decorate, he even gave Daddy a hand with the pork barbecue. He’s being so perfect it makes me want to scream.”

Chloe laughed, her lively face filled with the serenity it had acquired since her marriage to Luke Hunter. “Honey, perfection is usually considered a good thing in a man.”

“I keep trying to remind myself why I’m no longer Mrs. Tyler Winchester,” she said with mock severity. “It doesn’t help to have everyone singing his praises all of a sudden.”

“Singing his praises?” Chloe raised her eyebrows. “Sugar, that doesn’t sound like the brothers I know and love.”

“Well, maybe not the twins,” she admitted. “But even they said he wasn’t half bad after he took over hanging the decorations so they didn’t have to.”

“So what’s wrong?” Chloe slipped an arm around Miranda’s waist. “Don’t you want Sammy’s dad to get along with everyone?”

Was she really being that selfish? “I suppose so,” she said. “It just makes me wonder what he’s up to.”

Chloe gave her a squeeze. “Never look a helpful man or a gift horse in the mouth.” She picked up the tray of glasses. “I never do.”

But Chloe was secure in the love of the man who’d been meant for her. And Miranda was…nervous.

Nervous about this suddenly charming and cooperative Tyler. Nervous about the weekend in Charleston she’d committed herself to. And nervous about what the future held.

Please. She snatched a moment for what Gran always called a prayer on the run. Let this family gathering show Tyler what Sammy has here. Let him understand that he can’t make big changes in Sammy’s life.

That sounded like she was telling God what to do rather than asking for His guidance. Still, she clung to her plea stubbornly. She did know what was best for Sammy, didn’t she?

She batted away one of the helium-filled balloons that floated around the room, bumping on the ceiling. A huge balloon bouquet had arrived unexpectedly that morning with a card signed Uncle Josh. Sammy had looked astonished.

“Do I have an uncle Josh?”

“That’s my brother,” Tyler had explained.

Now that she thought of it, Tyler had looked almost as surprised as Sammy. Apparently he hadn’t expected this of his brother.

The piñata split open. Candy and small toys scattered on the floor. Tyler stood back, watching with a smile as the kids rushed to snatch them up.

Then he looked at her, the smile lingering, growing softer, more personal.

It was as if he’d reached across the room and touched her cheek. A wave of warmth swept over Miranda, and her fingers fumbled with the candles she was putting on the cake.

Tyler worked his way through the horde of small children to her side. “Can I help you with that?”

She handed him the candles. “You do it. I seem to be all thumbs.”

He arranged candles on the huge sheet cake decorated with dolphins and seashells. “Quite a party. Do you always go all out for birthdays?”

“Well, only the kids get piñatas, but everyone gets a party. It’s a good excuse for cake and ice cream.”

He frowned, adjusting the position of one candle as if it displeased him. “Another tradition, in fact.”

“I guess so. All families have birthday traditions, don’t they?”

“I don’t know. I was always away at boarding school on my birthday. My mother sent a gift, but that was about all.”

At Tyler’s mention of boarding school, she felt as if a cold draft had blown through the room, extinguishing the candles.

“You…you’re not thinking of boarding school for Sammy, are you?” She could never agree to that.

He straightened, the smile wiped from his face. “I did think that at first. It’s what seems natural to me. My brother and I never questioned that we’d go off to boarding school when we were eight.”

Her heart cramped at the thought of the boy he’d been. “I couldn’t let you do that to Sammy.”

“Relax. I’ve given up that idea.” He glanced around the room. “Sammy shouldn’t be away from family.”

She could breathe again. “I’m glad you see that.”

He frowned, his dark eyes serious. “That doesn’t mean I’ll let you have everything your way. Sammy has to learn to be a part of the outside world, too.”

“Is that what this trip to Charleston is?” Fear made her voice sharp. “Some kind of test to see how Sammy does there?”

“Of course not.” His voice was even sharper than hers, and the cooperative Tyler who’d been around all day seemed to vanish. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Miranda. I’ve already told you—I just want Sammy to see the world I function in, because someday he’ll have to function there, too.”

“It didn’t work very well when I tried it.” Apprehension about the weekend forced the words out.

That reminder seemed to rattle him. For a moment she didn’t think he’d reply, but then he shook his head, face somber.

“I admit I didn’t do a good job of introducing you to my world, Miranda. But then, you never really tried to fit in, did you?”

“That’s not fair.” She lowered her voice to a furious whisper. “I didn’t have the least idea what I was getting into, and you didn’t help.”

“We both made mistakes.” He spoke quietly, although no one in the chattering crowd could possibly hear them. “We were both too young to do it right.” His hand closed around her wrist, and her pulse thundered against his palm. “I won’t make the same mistake with our son. I promise you that.”

She wasn’t sure whether to consider that a promise or a threat.