high school. I wanted to go see some heavy metal band that was playing in Atlanta, and you refused to even consider it.”
“You pouted for two weeks.”
Tara took her mother’s hand in hers. “Yes, and about a month later, the band broke up. Their fifteen minutes of fame was over.”
“Glad you’re not still pouting,” Peggy said. “Honey, Laurel will be fine. She’s at that age—growing up, hormones going wacky.”
Tara nodded. “Yes, but it’s more than that. She’s still so angry at me…because of Chad’s death.”
“She can’t blame you for that,” Peggy said, frowning. “The man died of a heart attack. Granted, he was way too young, but…you didn’t know. None of us knew how sick Chad was.”
“Tell that to Laurel,” Tara said, getting up to pace around the spacious room. “Mom, she heard us fighting the night before he died.”
“Oh, my,” Peggy said, a hand playing through her clipped hair. “Have you talked to her about this?”
“I’ve tried. We talked a little about it after…after I realized how much Laurel was hurting, and I thought we were making progress. Rock’s been counseling her about forgiveness, and letting go of her anger.”
Peggy’s expression was full of understanding. “Well, maybe this outburst is just because you won’t let her go to the concert.”
Tara shook her head. “You heard what she said. Laurel doesn’t believe I’m a good mother. And maybe she’s right.”
“No,” Peggy replied, coming to stand by her. “You have always been a good mother. You know, we all slip up now and again. The important thing is to not keep making the same mistakes. I don’t think you’re going to let anything come between you and your children, ever again.”
“No, I’m not,” Tara said, wishing she could tell her mother all of her worries. But then, her mother would just worry right along with her, and she didn’t want that. “Thanks, Mom,” she said instead. “I’m so glad you and Daddy decided to spend this week here.”
“Me, too, honey.” Peggy gave her a quick hug, then said, “Oh, by the way, Ana called earlier while you were out. She invited us to come to the island Saturday. The church is having a picnic on the grounds. Some sort of anniversary celebration.”
Tara groaned. “Oh, yes. The church is 230 years old. Can you imagine that? I’d forgotten all about the celebration.”
“Amanda wants to go,” Peggy said, her hand on the door. “And I think Marybeth does, too.”
“But I bet Laurel won’t like it, as compared to going to a concert in the city.”
“Cal will be there,” Peggy pointed out. “You might try reminding her of that.”
“Good idea,” Tara replied. “And a good reason to keep her from attending that concert.”
And a good reason for Tara not to dwell all weekend on why Stone Dempsey hadn’t returned her phone calls.
“She’s called twice today, Stone.”
“Let her keep calling,” Stone replied, his gaze scanning the computer screen in front of him. “That land’s not going anywhere.”
He stopped reading the screen, aware that his executive assistant, Diane Mosley, was still standing there, staring at him with the precision of a laser light.
“What?” he finally said, closing the laptop to glare up at the woman who had been by his side since he’d first opened a storefront office, straight out of college ten years ago, in an older section of Savannah’s business district.
Diane was close to fifty, her hair platinum blond and short-cropped, her eyes a keen hazel behind her wire-rimmed bifocals. Pursing her lips, she tapped a sensible-shoed foot on the marble floor. “Why are you tormenting that poor woman?”
Stone felt the wrath of Diane’s formidable reprimand. But he didn’t dare let it show. They had an understanding, his dependable, loyal assistant and him. She was really the boss, but he really didn’t want to admit that. So they pretended he was the boss. It worked fine most days. Unless she started mothering him or pestering him.
Like now.
“I am not tormenting Tara Parnell. I have every right to go back to the drawing board regarding that piece of property. After all, we’re talking millions of dollars here. I want to make sure I have all my ducks in a row.”
“I understand about your little ducks,” Diane said, her steely gaze unwavering. “What I don’t understand is why you’ve seemed so edgy since meeting with Mrs. Parnell. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she got the best of you.”
Stone glanced at the grandfather clock centered between two multipaned windows, then deciding it was close enough to quitting time, loosened his silk tie. Since he didn’t want to go into detail regarding his wildly variable feelings about Tara Parnell, he said, “No, actually, she brought out the worst in me, which is why I’m reconsidering this whole deal.”
He’d planned an overall assault. Flowers, candy, the works. He’d planned on forcing Tara to spend time with him over the last week. But somehow, that planned tactic had gone by the wayside. Each time he remembered how she’d looked at him, with all that hate and disgust, he got cold feet and decided he’d do better sticking to business and playing hardball. He’d be much safer that way, less vulnerable to a counterattack.
“You aren’t going to let the land go, are you?” Diane asked, shifting her files from one arm to the other. “Stone, you’ve been eyeing that land for months now.”
“Yes, I have,” he admitted. Chad Parnell had let it slip about the land he’d bought dirt cheap from a family friend years ago, land he’d been sitting on until the right time to sell. Only, Chad had died before being able to turn a profit on the land. But Stone had remembered the land, and everything had fallen into place. “No, I’m not going to let go of the land, Diane. But if it will make you stop glowering at me like I’m an ugly bulldog, I’ll tell you why I’m holding off.”
Diane settled one ample hip against the solid oak of his big desk, then lowered her eyeglasses. “Do tell.”
“Don’t mention this to Griffin,” Stone said. “But I’ve reached a conclusion, one I think will be beneficial to both Mrs. Parnell and me.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Ana asked Tara the following Saturday.
They were sitting in lawn chairs behind the tiny Sunset Island Chapel, overlooking the docks of the bay and Sunset Sound to the west. Out over the sound, hungry gulls searched the waters for tasty tidbits, their caws sounding shrill in the late-afternoon air. A fresh-smelling tropical breeze rattled through the tall, moss-draped live oaks, its touch swaying the palmetto branches clustered here and there around the property. Behind them, near an arched trellis, a gardenia bush was blossoming with sweet-scented bursts of white flowers.
“I’m okay,” Tara replied, her dark sunshades hiding the truth she felt sure was flashing through her eyes. “Just another fight with Laurel.”
“Oh,
