one day you shall have all your answers,” his mother said, smiling. “Rock, you know I’m so proud of you, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m proud of all my boys.”
Eloise got a faraway look in her crystal blue eyes.
“Haven’t heard from Stone lately, huh?”
“No. But you know Stone. He doesn’t allow for much chitchat. And he’s so busy.”
“I know. Amassing his fortune.”
“Don’t be bitter, Rock.”
“I’m not bitter. Stone has his life and I have mine. I’m content right here on the island.”
Eloise pulled dead heads off a nearby pink begonia. “Stone was never content living on the island. Savannah suits him much better.”
Rock took a long drink from the tea, the sweet mint taste going down smooth in spite of the turmoil he always felt when talk turned to his brother, Stone. “I’m sure it does. And we all want Stone to be happy.”
“That’s exactly what I want—for all my sons. At least Clay seems to be thriving with the police department in Atlanta.”
“Clay has always been a happy-go-lucky, hardworking fellow.”
“He has a good heart.”
“I couldn’t agree more. In fact, I think Clay got the heart that Stone never had.”
Eloise gave him a mock glare. “Stone has a heart. He just doesn’t like to show it. I only want all of you to…find love, the kind of love I had with your father.”
Not wanting to get into a long discussion on that topic because talking about her late husband always seemed to upset Eloise, Rock said, “So is that why you’re throwing me at your friend Ana Hanson?”
Eloise reached for a yellow watering pitcher sitting in the bay window over the sink. Outside, a seagull cawed noisily in a low fly-by. “Who said I was throwing you at her? I just suggested you’d be perfect to help design her tea room, is all.”
Rock chuckled. “Mom, why didn’t you tell me she was young and pretty…and apparently single?”
His mother gave an eloquent shrug, her dangling turquoise feathered earrings brushing against the crocheted lace of her cream-colored linen tunic. “I figured if I told you about Ana, you’d clam up like a crab in a sand hole and refuse the job.”
“I never turn down paying customers.”
“Even cute…available ones?”
“Okay, I might have been a little hesitant if I’d known Ana was close to my age and single. But I have to admit, she is very pretty.” He finished off the tea. “She is single, right?”
“Very much so,” Eloise replied, her smile widening to reveal an endearing gap between her front teeth. “So, is that or the fact that she is attractive, smart, capable and…available going to hinder your working for her?”
“Probably,” he said. “But then, it might just make it interesting, too. As Auguste Renoir said, ‘Why should beauty be suspect?”’
“That’s the spirit,” Eloise replied, clasping her hands together. “Well, then, if you don’t want some fruit and yogurt for dessert, I’ll go back to my own work.”
“I’m fine, Mom. Got to get moving.”
Eloise whirled by, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
Rock watched as his mother moved gracefully over the steps leading from the wraparound porch and walked down the path to what had once been a horse stable, her soft leather walking sandals making very little noise.
The gardens were in full bloom—the fuchsia bougainvillea, the rich red hibiscus trees, the crape myrtle and azaleas all splashing together like a bright abstract painting underneath the Spanish moss of the ancient oak trees. And his mother in her feathered turquoise jewelry and flowing broomstick skirt fit right into the picture. Beautiful.
That made him think again of Ana Hanson. His mother had left out one trait he thought he recognized in the petite auburn-haired dynamo—ambition. And he remembered another favorite quote from a long-dead philosopher: “Beauty and folly are generally companions.”
She’d come here for companionship. For the warm ocean breezes and wonderful, salty mist of the sea. She’d come here to put down roots and settle in like the sea oats that flowed in wheat-colored patterns down on the dunes.
“I’m going to be a success,” Ana promised herself as she glanced around the large near-empty kitchen of her tea room. “I have to make this work.”
“I think you’re off to a good start,” Jackie Welsh, her just-hired assistant said as she passed by and grabbed her purse off the counter. “I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow to begin training Tina and the other servers.”
“Thanks,” Ana told the tall brunette. “I appreciate your help so much.”
She’d hired Jackie a few days ago, and already they were able to read each other’s minds. She’d need that kind of connection when things got to hopping around here.
Glancing at her watch, she mentally went over her to-do list while she waited for Rock Dempsey. The two-bedroom upstairs apartment was done. Everything was unpacked and in place, and the entire staff had been hired. Over the next month or so, they’d help set things up and learn the menus and recipes by heart. Next week, the furnishings for the shop and tea room would start arriving. She’d have plenty to keep her busy then. Especially if Rock was here every day, measuring and building.
Just thinking of his big, muscular frame in the middle of her dainty treasures made Ana smile. It felt good to smile. She’d been so focused on this venture over the past few months, she’d forgotten how to relax. But now, she was here at last. Here in her own place, with her own living quarters—no roommates, no rent to pay—just a big mortgage that her sister had helped finance—she had no one to answer to except herself. She’d finally accomplished her dream.
Now she had to make that dream work.
She envisioned the wicker bistro tables she’d found at a clearance sale sitting here and there in what once had been the parlor of the house. She saw intimate groupings out on the long porch, where diners would have a clear view of the glistening bay down the sloping yard to the dunes. She’d put some nice cushiony rocking chairs out there, too.
Glancing down at the big bay, Ana saw a sailboat glide by like a giant blue and white butterfly. Maybe she could go sailing herself soon. It had been a long time since she’d sailed out on the water with the sun on her face.
A knock at the stained-glass front door caused her to jump. Not one for woolgathering, Ana scooted across the room, her espadrilles barely making a click on the polished wooden floors. Adjusting her clothes and hair, she opened the door to find Rock standing there in jeans and a T-shirt emblazoned with Save the West Island Lighthouse Summer Jam Session.
“Hi,”
