Chapter Three

“You’re kidding, right? We’re lost?” Ben stared at her incredulously. “Give me those directions. There must be something there we can salvage.”

Wordlessly, she surrendered the paper. Why was it men always refused to believe bad news until they verified it for themselves?

He glared at the paper, turned it this way, then that. “What about GPS? Do you have an app on your phone?”

She shook her head. “Never bothered to get one, since I have one in my car at home.”

He fished in a back pocket, drew out his phone. “Here. See if you can pull mine up.”

It only took a few seconds for her to discover his phone needed charging. “Great,” he muttered. “I didn’t bring a car charger. I’ll have to wait until I arrive to plug it in. Add that to my list.”

Dina didn’t ask what list he referred to. She already knew. She also knew her name occupied at least one position on same list, if not more. Fine, Ben Cutler. You want to feel sorry for yourself, then sulk in silence. I’ve got my own problems to worry about.

He shook his head in defeat and started the car again, heading straight through the intersection.

Neither spoke for several miles. The heat and humidity of midday July in the middle of nowhere overpowered her senses. The sun’s strong rays pressed through her top, and the back of her neck grew moist, her hands clammy. She squirmed in her seat, craving another bottle of water but not daring tempt Fate.

With Ben preoccupied with his own difficulties, she reflected on the phone calls with her mother the previous evening that had precipitated this trip. “You’re engaged to a twenty-year-old filmmaker?” She could barely get the question to her movie star parent out of her mouth.

Her mother had replied, “Actually, dear, I think I said film student. Richard asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”

“Isn’t there a law against such things?” It had been a stupid, heartless thing to say, but her mother had a way of drawing the worst from her.

“I don’t think so, at least not here in South Carolina.” That’s how she learned her mother was staying at her summer house on one of the islands bordering the Carolina coast, not her California mansion.

Dina had dragged herself home from the accounting firm where she worked in Des Moines, Iowa to sleep off a headache. She’d spent the better part of the day trying to find a four-thousand-dollar error for her client. At least she hadn’t been responsible for this one. The memory of her horrific oversight months before still haunted her.

If she’d just ignored the beep of her answering machine, she would have been medicated, in bed, and totally oblivious to her mother’s latest departure from sanity. But curiosity and her sense of responsibility got the better of her. “How long have you known this film student, Mother?” she’d asked, sarcasm punctuating her last words.

“Let me think.” Her mother’s voice had assumed the tone that generally signaled trouble. Soft and honey-sweet. “I met him when I guest-lectured in a film class at UCLA. That was, hmmm, a month or so ago. Since then, we’ve grown to enjoy each other’s company and discovered we have many interests in common.”

“No slam intended, Mother, but what could you possibly have in common with a twenty-year-old boy?”

Her mother sniffed. “What a thing to say to your mother! I’m fifty-three, not a hundred and three. I’m still very much alive, thank you. Especially since I’ve met Richard. You’d know what I mean if you’d find someone for yourself.”

She always managed to get back to that, the fact that, at age thirty-two, Dina was single and alone. No man in the picture. Over time and after several disappointing relationships, it was easier this way, not wondering if the men in her life were really interested in her or just wanted an in with her mother and the film industry.

Even if she could get past those doubts, what man wanted to put up with a woman who was her mother’s caretaker? A woman who’d risk her job by taking off at a moment’s notice to pick up the pieces of Jocelyn Maitland’s latest fiasco.

This time her mother had implored her to drop everything and come meet her new stepdad, hinting that a wedding was imminent. That’s what had gotten Dina on the road, after first leaving an anxious call for help on her dad’s answering machine in St. Louis. It was one thing for her mother to acquire a fiancé less than half her age, but totally another to actually marry the boy. It was up to her to show her mother the difference.

Ben applied the brakes and slowed to turn into a small mom-and-pop type convenience store that had appeared out of nowhere. As he climbed out, he said, “I’ll probably regret asking, but do you want more water? Or would you prefer to get your own?”

“Coming.” She grabbed her purse and trailed after him, making a beeline to the restroom. A few minutes later, when she returned to the store area, she found Ben standing at the counter with the clerk. Both heads were bent over a map, and the clerk was drawing on it with a highlighter.

“Ready?” Ben offered a bottle of water when he saw her approaching.

“Huh? Oh, yes, thanks. Whenever you are.”

“Let’s get going, then.”

She walked back to the car in a semi-trance, not believing what she’d witnessed.

He must have noticed that she wasn’t totally engaged, because he asked, “What’s up? You look dumbfounded.”

“I am. I’ve never witnessed a man asking for directions. All the lost men in my life like to stay that way. Against the code or some sort of man thing to admit it.”

He chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint. Although the rest of my life may be going in circles right now, I can’t afford to waste time navigating by the stars tonight.”

He didn’t seem to be angry with her. Besides their foolish pride, most of the lost men she’d known blamed her for their plight. In this case, when he’d have had every right to be upset with her, Ben Cutler had done the smart thing, the expedient thing, and stopped to ask for directions. Wow. And he could also drive a straight stick. Interesting.

“According to that clerk, we’re not far off the path. A crossroad coming up will take us to the coast.”

He sounded so matter-of-fact, so patient. What was wrong with this picture? Where had the taciturn man-on-a-mission gone? Speculation was a waste of time. She had to find out. “Aren’t you the least bit upset with me for getting us lost and not telling you?”

He thrummed his fingers on the dash. “I thought about it back there at that stop sign, when I came close to throwing you out of the car. Then it occurred to me that, had I not foisted myself on you, you would’ve been out here alone without any directions, since I’m the one who got the instructions from the agent. How did you think you were going to get to Edgar Island anyhow?”

“I just assumed—” She caught herself mid-sentence as memory seized her. She flipped open the glove compartment. “...there’d be a map in here,” she continued as she pulled out the folded document.

He threw her a murderous look. Then he started to laugh. “You take the cake, lady. You know that?”

She grimaced. Could she appear any more foolish? “When I first got in the car, I was looking for an operator’s manual. That’s when I saw the map. I dismissed it, thinking it would be there for me later. Then things changed when—”

“You plowed into the mud.”

“That too. But I would have been fine had you not inserted yourself in my plans.”

“We’re back to that, are we?”

“Look, Ben, I’m a sensible, low-maintenance, nose-to-the-grindstone kind of person. I rarely spill water on others or get stuck in mud bogs. I definitely don’t ride with strangers. When I rent cars, I can usually operate and navigate them quite efficiently. This unexpected trip has thrown me off my normal routine, and...I don’t like it.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, his tone placating.

“I particularly don’t like coming across as a piece of fluff.”

His expression indulgent, patient, he commented, “No fluff. Gotcha. Finished?” His calm made her all the more wary.

“Yes. I just needed to say that.”

“Why do you care what I think of you? As long as we both reach Edgar Island safe and sound, it shouldn’t matter.”

She could see his point, since he didn’t know they both had a stake in the impending marriage, and she had no intention of telling him otherwise. Why did she care what he thought of her? She forced herself to part with one of the patented smiles she saved for nervous clients. “You’re right. We’ll soon go different directions, never to see each other again. It doesn’t matter a fig.”

There wasn’t much to see of the countryside, other than an occasional off-road vehicle motoring along someone’s property. A lone water bird picking its way along the roadside suggested they were close to the coast. But she studied the scenery anyway. She didn’t like lying to Ben. Not exactly lying. Omitting information. Misrepresentation. Oh, hell, lying. But once he learned who she was, she wasn’t sure he’d even talk to her. Before that happened, she wanted to learn as much about the Cutlers as she could.

“Tell me about your son. You said he’s marrying an older woman?”

“Name’s Rick. Richard. He’s a student at UCLA in the film department. Dreams of being the next Spielberg. He’s dated, but there’s never been a particular girl in his life for very long. Now, out of the blue, there’s a woman.”

“You didn’t know anything about her?”

“Not a damned thing.”

“Why the marrying part?”

“He wouldn’t go into that. Acted like I was insulting him to ask.”

So far, not much different than what she’d learned from her mother. Their respective kin seemed to have developed a singular, terse approach to their story. She took a breath. This next part was critical. “What do you know about the woman?”

“She’s a movie star, can you believe it? Jocelyn Maitland. Know her?”

“Uh, I’ve read about her in magazines. Did you, uh, check her out on the Internet?” If he had, he’d know the great film star had a grown daughter.

“No time.”

She released the breath she’d been holding. “Maybe it’s some kind of publicity thing.” He didn’t react, so she went on. “You know, by Hollywood standards, Jocelyn Maitland is getting up there in years. A super young husband could convince the media she’s still more than appealing.”

He didn’t speak. “And your son’s name is suddenly a household word.”

“Rick isn’t like that,” he snapped.

“Jocelyn Maitland isn’t—” She stopped herself from defending her mother. “Never mind. I didn’t mean to rile you.”

“Let’s drop it.

“Okay.”

He returned to stony silence.

The landscape gave way to more lush scenery. Trees of the tropical variety swayed in the gentle breeze, kissing her with their rich floral sweetness. Signs along the road announced the imminent appearance of restaurants, shops, and recreational sites.

“Is there a hotel on this island?” he asked. “I didn’t take time to make reservations.”

“Edgar Island is really small. Mostly private homes and a few rental cottages. There’s one inn just across the causeway, but it may be full this time of year, especially after what the rental agent said about the ‘doin’s going on this weekend.’ Probably filled with those who got the rental cars.”

“Would you mind calling ahead for me?”

“No problem.” The news wasn’t good. “Completely booked,” she said as she put her phone away. “They said to drop by when you arrive, because they may have a cancellation.” Before she considered the ramifications of having Ben in the same house with her mother, she blurted out, “Maybe you can stay with your son.”

“Not my preference. Don’t want to get too cozy with the happy couple. I’ll check with the inn first. If you think you can handle the car, you can drop me off there.” He raised his eyebrows skeptically, but he gave her the benefit of the doubt.

Better not ask how he planned to return to the mainland. “Give me a couple minutes to reacquaint myself with the gears and I should be fine.”

A short while later, she left him at the inn after receiving a brief lesson on the gearshift and headed on to her mother’s place. What would Ben Cutler say when he came calling on his son’s new fiancée and found his traveling companion at the door?

Dina couldn’t afford to worry about Ben’s reaction. She had to deal with her mother first.