The Girl He Left Behind. Patricia Kay
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу The Girl He Left Behind - Patricia Kay страница 4
The Fairy Kisses Boutique featured exclusive designer children’s dress-up clothes and accessories. Garland had always dreamed of being able to provide kids with outfits for creative, free play all year, along with formal attire for weddings, parties and other affairs. Her store, stocked full of everything from gorgeous and detailed princess and fairy gowns to wizard robes, capes and Native American headdresses, was very popular with the locals and tourists alike.
Garland had grown up in a home where money was tight, but her foster mother had encouraged open, creative play. She had kept a trunk filled with feather boas, hats, dresses, pants and all sorts of accessories to keep her two children occupied.
Having studied psychology and theater in college, Garland believed that pretend play through dressing up enhanced a child’s social, emotional, language and thinking skills.
After they got home and had dinner, she gave Amya a bath and dressed her for bed.
“TV,” her daughter mumbled, pointing toward the flat screen above the fireplace.
“Just for a little while.”
Amya nodded and then turned her attention to the little bear in her arms.
“How is Boo feeling today?” Garland inquired.
“Fine. Her not sick no more.”
Whenever Amya was sick, her little bear Boo got sick, too—Amya believed so anyway.
While her daughter watched television, Garland cleaned up the kitchen.
She had to drive to Charleston the next morning for a meeting. For the fourth year in a row, Garland had volunteered to be the chair for a children’s festival. Tomorrow they would be discussing potential vendors for the upcoming event.
After getting Amya settled in bed, she strode into her bedroom and walked straight to the closet. She wanted to find the perfect comfortable outfit to wear. Garland pulled out three options, tossed them on the bed and then grabbed two more.
She chuckled at her actions. What did it matter what she wore? It was not as if she were meeting a man. Garland was just going to a meeting and then back to her shop to finish taking inventory.
* * *
Garland dropped off Amya at preschool on the island before heading straight to the French Quarter Restaurant located on Bay Street in the historic district of Charleston.
An hour later, she parked her car and climbed out. Horse-drawn carriages and people alike roamed the charming cobblestone streets. The architecture, colorful gardens, historic alleys and courtyards dated back to the colonial era.
She entered the restaurant and walked over to a table near the window, where three people were engaged in conversation. “Good morning,” Garland greeted as she pulled out a chair and sat down. “I brought the photographs from the last two festivals. I thought you’d like to see them.”
Garland always enjoyed the planning of the annual French Quarter Children’s Festival. The other three lunch guests at her table were members of the planning committee, as well.
Two hours later, the meeting concluded. As Garland walked out to her car, she noticed a new children’s shop on the next block. I wonder how long it has been here, she thought.
Garland walked down to the store and went inside. She navigated slowly through the aisles of clothing for girls and boys. “Quaint,” she whispered. It’s a nice store.
She found a couple of cute dresses for Amya and purchased them.
Her next stop was the bookstore. Garland had not intended to spend this much time in Charleston, but she could never resist an opportunity to buy books.
She walked out twenty minutes later with a bag of books and magazines.
Garland slowed her pace, her eyes widening in surprise as she stared at the man walking toward her in a black suit with faint pinstripes running through the fabric, a classic pale blue shirt and a perfectly knotted black tie.
Ryker DuGrandpre looked as if he’d walked straight out of a magazine. He was a gorgeous, smart but arrogant man who used to tap on her nerves every time she ran into him. He was her brother Parker’s best friend and had been his college roommate at the University of South Carolina. Before he had convinced some woman to marry him a few years back, he had had women fall at his feet.
A year behind Parker and Ryker, Garland had managed to withstand the urge to hurl herself at him and had focused on her studies instead. Though it had not been an easy task, considering the huge crush she had had on Ryker.
Then, eight months after graduating from college, her brother had died in a car accident. Ryker had been in law school at the time but had been sure to attend Parker’s funeral. That was the last time she had seen him.
He did not seem to know who she was at first, but recognition dawned and he broke into a huge grin. He crossed the distance between them in quick strides.
Ryker embraced her warmly. “Garland, how are you? It’s been a long time.”
“I’m fine,” she responded, his presence giving her joy. “It has been a while. How are you?”
“Life is good. I can’t complain.”
She smiled. “That’s great.”
Garland could tell that Ryker was tentative—she knew why and she felt the same way.
“How’s your mom doing?” he inquired.
“She’s doing the best she can, but I know that she misses Parker. We all do.”
“So do I,” Ryker confessed. “I wish I had more time to talk to you, but I’m due back in court soon. I was just about to pick up something to eat.”
“It’s okay,” Garland responded. “I need to get back to work, as well. It’s good seeing you again.” Out of the corner of her eye she could see his eyes tracing her silhouette.
“Here’s my card,” Ryker said, his lips curling into a delicious smile. “Call me. I’d really like to catch up soon.”
For some reason, her body reacted to Ryker. She nodded and reached for his card, but Garland did not intend to make contact with Ryker. Seeing him now brought back the pain of losing her brother. Almost frozen in place, she watched him as he walked in the opposite direction.
She and Parker had been close, despite the fact that his mother and father were her foster parents. Although they initially talked of adopting her, her foster father’s untimely death had put an end to that discussion.
Garland had not been disappointed because she knew that she was loved. Her biological mother had died when she was five and her father had been in no condition to raise a child, though she did have a relationship with him, albeit a distant one. He’d remarried when she was ten and his new wife had wanted nothing to do with Garland, leaving her feeling as if she had no real family.
She