Carrie could hardly believe that an entire week had gone by and that the night she’d been dreading—her meeting with Dirk—had arrived.
She’d considered asking the girls their opinions about what to wear, but she realized she didn’t really care. It wasn’t like it was a date, and the prospect of having to explain to Dirk that she wasn’t really Betty White—obviously—didn’t sound like much fun.
But she’d had her reasons. The guy had been bugging Andrea at the clinic, and he should have gotten the hint. She’d have called him back if she’d wanted to, and he’d never stated his reason for calling anyway. She squared her shoulders, ready to defend her ruse. She pulled on a pair of jeans and a cream-colored light sweater. And that was as dressed up as she was willing to get.
She did slip on her favorite flip-flops that had tiny seashells on them, but just because they were comfortable. He was going to get what he got, and he was lucky she was willing to co-chair with him anyway.
It was a lovely, warm night, and she decided to walk to the Pavilion. It wasn’t very far, and she could stop by Jen’s on the way back and tell the girls what she’d found out since it was on the way.
“Well, you look nice.”
Carrie stopped and looked up at Jen’s porch. She hadn’t even realized that she was passing by until Jen caught her attention. She looked down at her jeans and sweater.
“I do? That wasn’t what I was going for.”
“I might have suggested something a little nicer, but you look very pretty. Makes your hair look blonder.”
“Thanks, I think,” Carrie said as she nodded at Faith as she stepped onto the porch.
“Very nice,” Faith said, and this time Carrie could feel the heat in her cheeks.
“This is not a date. It’s work. I’m on recon for the beach house and trying to involve myself as little as possible in the fundraiser. It’s work,” she protested, but she could hear them chuckling as she continued down the boardwalk.
She shook it off and headed toward the Pavilion. When she arrived, the hostess smiled at her, but Carrie noticed her smile was a little pinched.
“Hello, Dr. Carrie,” the young girl said. Carrie looked at her teeth—she couldn’t help it—and noticed that the girl’s braces had fixed things quite nicely.
“Hello, Jessica. Your teeth look lovely.”
The hostess glanced in both directions, almost in a panic. She loved being a dentist—unfortunately, very few of her clients were ever happy to see her. Or wanted to come to the clinic. Hazard of the profession, she supposed, but it wouldn’t be awful if somebody ever said thanks.
“Are you here alone?” Jessica said as she reached for a menu, her surprise at seeing her dentist seeming to have worn off.
“No. I’m meeting somebody. Dirk. Dirk Crabtree.”
Jessica smiled wide. “Oh, of course. Mr. Crabtree. He’s here already. He’s talking to some people, but I’ll take you over.”
Carrie followed the hostess through the restaurant, bracing herself for her confession. She hoped he had a good sense of humor. He’d seemed like he might, and she hoped her luck held out.
She stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted him. And the people he was talking to. Friends of her parents. From the yacht club.
“Mr. Crabtree, your dinner guest has arrived.”
Dirk stood and turned to Carrie, his eyes registering his surprised and a touch of laughter.
“Ms. White? How nice to see you again, but I’m scheduled to meet with Carrie. Carrie Westland.”
“Hello, Carrie. Nice to see you again,” Dr. Mendoza said, with a smile and a nod. His wife nodded as well before they headed over to their own table.
She did her best not to roll her eyes and took the seat next to him. He sat down and leaned forward, his elbows on the table.
“Well, I can tell this is going to be quite a story,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “And I can’t wait to hear it.”
“Same here,” Carrie mumbled under her breath.
The waitress came for their drink order, and Carrie ordered a glass of merlot to his Manhattan. He rested his elbow on the back of his chair as he leaned back and smiled at her.
“Well?”
Carrie took a deep breath and spilled her story. He laughed several times as she explained that she’d been caught off guard, hadn’t wanted to talk to him, and just blurted out “Betty White” as she’d been watching The Golden Girls.
He listened intently as he sipped his Manhattan and even though she tried not to look at him, she couldn’t help but notice he was handsome. And because he wasn’t outright laughing at her—and wasn’t angry either—she decided maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to work with him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone go to such great lengths to avoid me before. Or if they did, they were better at it than you are.”
“Fair enough,” she said with a laugh, glad that the story was out and over with.
“I was only calling to see if you might be interested in selling the property that the clinic is on. It’s part of my job, to find properties that might be desirable for my clients. No offense intended.”
“Again, fair enough. I don’t want to sell, though. I love my job, and I’ve worked very hard building my practice. In fact, the hostess is one of my patients.”
Dirk leaned back in his chair and looked over at the hostess, who was sharing her bright, white smile with everyone in the lobby.
“Nice job there. I can see why Newport would need you to stay in practice. I won’t bother you with that question again.”
Carrie smiled and nodded as she took a sip of her merlot. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all, and they could just get right to the business of the fundraiser. She certainly hoped so.
By the time Dirk’s Chilean sea bass and Carrie’s filet mignon were gone, they’d come up with a plan. Dirk was efficient, and Carrie was grateful because she’d never done this before.
“So if we do all the wrapping beforehand, get all the auction sheets set up and ready to be put out, we should be in great shape.”
Carrie nodded vigorously when the waiter suggested creme brûlée for dessert, as it was one of her favorites—especially at the pavilion. Dirk ordered a cappuccino but didn’t say no when Carrie offered him a spoon to share the rich, creamy dessert.
In the most nonchalant voice Carrie could muster, she finally asked the question she’d been holding all night.
“So, any news about Jen’s house?” She looked down at the creme brûlée and tried to feign disinterest, as if she were just making conversation.
“I shouldn’t really be talking about it with you, as you’re not the client, but generally speaking, I’m pretty pleased with what I’ve found. The location is spectacular, and at the right price I think we could have an offer pretty quickly.”
Carrie’s pretense of indifference disappeared, along with the last bite of custard.
“Oh,” she said. “That’s too bad.”
Dirk’s eyebrows rose as he took a sip of his coffee. “Too bad? I thought—well, I know her father and brother, whom I’ve spoken with also, are quite eager to sell.”
“That’s them, not Jen,” she said slowly, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her linen napkin. “In Jen’s view, nothing could be worse.”
Dirk leaned back in his chair, frowning. “I don’t understand.”
Carrie took a deep breath and explained the situation to Dirk. She told him about how they’d all grown up there, learned to swim there, what had happened to Allen and how Jen looked forward to raising grandkids there.
When she finished, he whistled and leaned back in his chair. He rubbed the back of his neck and turned to look at the view of the harbor.
“I guess I can understand that. No matter how high the price is, with a third of the profits, she’d never get another house down here.”
“No,” Carrie said. “And she knows it. We all know it.”
Dirk paid the check and stood, scooting Carrie’s chair out for her and holding out his arm for her.
She slipped her arm through his and looked up at him. “It’s just a pretty sad state of affairs,” she said as they left the restaurant.
“Can I offer you a ride home?” Dirk asked when they reached his SUV.
Carrie shook her head. “Thanks, but I think I could use a breath of fresh air. And I appreciate your help with the fundraiser. I imagine I’d make quite a mess of it on my own.”
He smiled and nodded, tipping an invisible hat in her direction as he turned and left.
She started her walk toward Jen’s house, wondering if there was anything at all to be done about this situation. She was afraid that there wasn’t.