turned to Matt. “What do you say we let your mom take it easy and we’ll finish this job?”
Matt nodded and trotted to the boats.
At her car, Carter opened the driver’s door. “Better hop in.” His tone lowered. “Your hands were cold before.”
Sophie’s knees softened and she tried to speak, but no sound came out. Turmoil reigned inside her body as he jogged away from her and caught up with Matt.
She tried to shake off the lost control caused by this stranger. This little incident had stolen some of her strength and lately every morsel was necessary to stay afloat. On the roller coaster of life, she had been taking a wild ride. First due to a chance to own the vineyards, giving her a helping hand from her inner grief and fulfilling a life-long dream. Then two weeks ago, RGI had barged into town and yanked her offer from the table.
Carter pointed to a kayak and said something. Matt laughed. The scene made her miss having a man in their household. Her heart softened, awed by the way this knight who’d arrived in a shiny white Camry galloped in and took charge…and how she’d simply let him. Was something good finally stepping into her life?
Disappointment skimmed her chest. Who was she kidding? Nothing would come of this.
Her cynical nature hadn’t developed overnight. Rather, she had soured over time. Lost opportunities, gone due to circumstances beyond her control: Mom’s cancer, Sophie’s unplanned pregnancy, her subsequent marriage to Mike, even her lost bid on the land RGI now wanted.
Time to forget this guy and concentrate on her job. She’d have to work harder than ever to stick to her journalistic creed, but any teeny, albeit truthful, crumb of negative news about RGI or its president, Duncan Jamieson, could sway the scale on the zoning board vote. Then the greedy developer would disappear from Northbridge forever.
Her family wanted that land. Land their ancestors were the first to settle back in 1789. Land where the winery plans of their dreams could come to life. The most important reason, though, was protecting the sacred place where her firstborn son, Henry, had died.
Chapter 2
A long line of cars pulled into the well-lit high school parking lot, higher than usual volume for a public hearing. Sophie grabbed her bag and hurried toward the entrance, hoping she could still get a seat up front.
As she neared the large regional high school, she passed a noisy group standing in a circle at the front of the building, chanting the plea “Save our Lake.” Their signs bore the acronym “S.O.L.E.” stacked on the left and the words, “Save Our Lake’s Environment” extending from each corresponding letter. Protestors weren’t the norm at these types of events and their presence added a thick cloud of tension to the cool night air.
Bernadette marched with the vocal group. Nana had liked to remind everyone how Bernadette was living proof her name theory worked. “I canna think of a better name for that lassie. She’s named to ‘be brave like a bear’ and sure acts the part.” There were times Sophie found any explanation about people’s behavior to offer a measure of peace. After all, a wise person took heed in all the messages around her and her name meant “wisdom.”
She waved to Bernadette, who yelled with more exuberance than any other protestor. A rosy glow highlighted her full cheeks and her large green eyes burst with equal excitement. She shook a defiant fist in the air.
“Nice boots,” Sophie yelled over their noise. Bernadette had tucked her jeans into new boots, with razor thin heels and pointy toes, which crossed the border into sexy. Opposite of the sensible heeled style Sophie wore. “You’re Northbridge’s own Che Guevera in her Jimmy Choo’s.”
“You’d better start reading Vogue. These are from Target.” Bernadette pushed aside her sable brown bangs, which always seemed due for a trim. “Grab a sign.”
“I’m working. Remember?” Any public appearance of bias while covering a story could get back to her editor.
“Yeah, yeah. Same old excuse.” Bernadette punched a follow-up fist of solidarity at the sky and resumed her chant.
The details about Carter would have to wait until after the hearing. Since Sophie’s chance meeting with the handsome visitor, she couldn’t shake her craving to learn more about him, a sensation that left her liberated and scared at the same time. Talking to the stranger was easy and comfortable, the way sliding into a pair of well-worn slippers let her know she was home, safe and exactly where she belonged.
She turned toward the entrance and slammed into a stiff body, making her stumble back a step.
“’Scuz me.” Otis Tate dipped his bushy eyebrows in annoyance, his Adam’s apple jutting out just beneath the scruffy edge of his white beard. As usual, his younger brother, Elmer, lagged several steps behind, shoulders stooped and taking away the extra few inches of height he held over the senior of the two septuagenarians.
“Sorry. I didn’t see you.” A cold breeze sent a chill through Sophie’s wool skirt and tights, numbing her immediate reaction to scream “traitor.” The mere sight of them made her blood boil. After they’d accepted Resort Group International’s offer, they didn’t even have the decency to give her a phone call. Bernadette had learned about the deal at her law office and called Sophie, adding to her humiliation. They probably hadn’t given any consideration to the deep ties she held to the land. With no wives or children, their only goal was to sell to the highest bidder and retire near some friends in Florida, a consideration no self-respecting New Englander would utter aloud.
Otis cleared his throat. “Listen, we want you to know this isn’t personal.”
“I’d suggest you look up what personal means.”
Both his brows arched. “Listen Sophie, we hadn’t signed anything with you yet. Business is business. You’ll find another spot for your winery.” He elbowed Elmer.
Elmer flinched but didn’t respond. Instead, he stared at the protestors, his downturned mouth giving away his sadness.
Otis leaned close enough for her to catch the warmth of his breath. “I heard Cliff gave you this story last minute. I assume you’ll give it fair coverage.”
The comment struck Sophie as hard as a kidney jab.
Her tone downshifted to a harsh whisper. “Nana was a friend of your dad’s. She told me his name meant honorable. I wonder what she’d say about his sons.”
Otis’ face turned beet red and Elmer’s froze like ice, as if her words cast a voodoo hex, Nana-style.
She raised her voice. “You don’t have to fret over my coverage. I’ll report on this with the unbiased dedication of an attorney defending a murderer.” She turned to walk away then stopped and glared at both men. “Correction. Alleged murderer.”
Elmer dropped his chin to his chest and it touched the ends of his flannel shirt collar. Sophie didn’t care if she’d shamed the nicer of the two brothers. He, of all people, understood why she didn’t want the land in the hands of strangers.
Two weeks after her son died, Elmer had paid Sophie a visit. Several people in town wished to set up a memorial garden for Henry, right on the spot where he’d passed away on the Tates’ land. Elmer had requested her permission, admitting he wanted the memorial too. Henry had
