Barefoot at Moonrise (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 2) (6 page)

Finally, he exhaled slowly. “Yes,” he whispered. “I do still blame him.”

She knew it. “So why are we even having this conversation?” she asked. “Nothing’s changed in twenty-five years, Ken. We are crazy about each other. In another world or another time, we’d date and probably struggle with a few things, but fundamentally, we’d be great together.” Her voice cracked with a sob, but she didn’t care. “But I can’t change who I am, and you can’t change who you hate.”

He opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again. “When you’re dressed and ready to go, I’ll walk you to your car.”

That was when she knew it was truly over and done with between them. Her head knew it was the right thing to do, but she wasn’t sure her heart would ever understand.

Chapter Four

That evening, Beth wandered from room to room, trying to visualize the changes she’d make in the mid-century ranch that needed a lot of TLC—and money—but all she was able to see was the look on Ken Cavanaugh’s face when they said good-bye.

He had walked her to her car, held her hand in the lobby—which was so
not
deserted, even at that early hour—and kissed her on the mouth in the parking lot.

A long, lazy, wish-for-more kiss that she’d relived a hundred times since then.

“Anybody home?”

Beth turned from the kitchen at the man’s voice, startling a little at how much she’d hoped it would be
that
man, but let out a soft sigh when she realized who it was.

The other man who’d ruined her morning. Not that she for one minute blamed her father for the accident that killed Johnny Cavanaugh. A machine malfunctioned and a tragedy ensued. But she saw things differently than Ken.

“Dad?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. He rarely visited her unannounced, and he hadn’t yet been to this new house, since she’d moved in only recently.

Frowning, she wandered to the front to find her father outside the screen door, examining the handle. “This is locked, but really, Beth, you should close your front door and be more secure. Anyone could slice this screen and walk in on you.”

“And give up the breeze? Besides, it’s Pleasure Pointe, Dad. We don’t have crime here.” She unlatched the lock and opened the door to let him in, looking beyond him, expecting to see Josie.

“Are you alone?”

“I am.”

She frowned, gesturing for him to enter. “Is something wrong?”

“Does something have to be wrong for me to visit my own daughter?”

Unannounced on a Sunday night without his wife? It was a little odd, to say the least.

He looked even thinner than the last time she’d seen him, Beth noticed, and a little hunched over, definitely wearing every one of his sixty-nine years since his recent stent surgery. Not an old man, by any stretch, but no longer vibrant.

“What a dump,” he said, glancing around.

“I know, right?”

He beamed at her. “I’m proud of you for picking a good dump.”

Beth laughed, knowing glowing praise from her father when she heard it. “Just how I like ’em, Dad. Comps are high in the neighborhood.”

“You’re welcome for that,” he replied with a wink.

She nodded her appreciation for what he continually did to the value of real estate on Mimosa Key. “And I can redo this place for thirty thousand.”

He gave her a look. “Thirty?”

“If I do the work myself,” she said.

“You didn’t get a contractor yet?”

“I might not need one. I have a plan that I think I can file as an owner operator and not have to pull county permits.”

He surveyed the place some more. “Kitchen needs work.”

“It does, and I can rip down a kitchen and put up a new one.” Mostly. “I can demo a tile floor and lay hardwood. I’ll use subs for the hardest parts, but if I do it for thirty thousand, I’ll get seventy-five more than I paid.”

“But it’ll take six months.”

Actually, nine or ten, she thought. Each flip was slow, and time was truly money in her business. But it was
her
business, and she loved that.

He turned and grinned at her. “You’ll make this place nice, Beth. I know you will.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

He sat on the edge of a white leather sofa that looked out of place here, but it had staged nicely in the house she’d flipped a few miles from here. Only then did she notice the oversized white envelope that he set next to him. He looked around again, nodding. “Yes, excellent choice for a house flip.”

“Thanks,” she said, sitting across from him. “If real estate has Ray Endicott’s stamp of approval, I’m golden.”

“You don’t need my stamp of approval, Beth.” He leaned forward with a sly smile. “Most of the time, you don’t even want it.”

“I’m trying to make it on my own,” she reminded him. “It’s your control I don’t like, but I do appreciate your approval.”

“You have the instinct,” he said. “You have the touch. While I…” He closed his eyes and puffed out a sigh. “Better take up golf. With a cart.”

So he was getting more and more serious about this retirement business. “That’s not a bad life, you know.”

He narrowed his blue eyes behind bifocals. “I love my job and am not ready to give it up. But Jo thinks I’m going to keel over any minute and we’ll be sorry if we didn’t enjoy our ‘golden years’ together.”

“Maybe she’s right,” she said. “You know, nobody ever looked up from their deathbed and wished for more time at the office.”

“Says my workaholic daughter.”

“I’m not a few months from seventy, though,” she said, standing. “You want something to drink?”

“I want people to stop talking about me dying,” he said gruffly. “And I also want a dry martini with two olives, but I’ll take water.”

She walked around the awkward wall that separated the kitchen from the living area, already wishing for the open concept she’d mapped out. “No one’s talking about you dying, Dad. We’re talking about you living life to the fullest in the many years you have left.”

She heard him harrumph while she poured ice water and found him up and examining a window when she returned. “Double pane,” he says. “You don’t have to replace these.”

“But I will because the frames are hideous.” She handed him the water.

“Then you’ve changed an egress and you’ll have to pull a permit.”

“Not if I don’t restructure the window.” She grinned at him. “I’m not a rookie, Dad.”

“No, you’re not.” He took a sip, then returned to the sofa, putting the glass down. “Which is why…”

When his voice trailed off, she guessed the real reason he was here, and without Josie, too. They’d danced around the possibility of her taking over his business a few times since he had the stent surgery, and she’d tried to make it clear, without hurting his feelings, that she didn’t want the job.

Was that what he had in that envelope? A contract? An offer? A press release announcing his plans? “Why what?” she prodded, following him to sit again.

He sighed. “I know you said running EDC is not your thing. But I still think you could make a go of it.”

“I thought you were leaning toward giving the business to Landon,” she said, hoping that was true. She didn’t want to reject the offer out of hand, but she didn’t want to completely change the life she’d built on her own, either.

“Landon doesn’t see homes,” he said. “He sees parcels of land. He doesn’t see one big company. He sees divisions that can be sold off for profit so he can pay for Rebecca’s champagne taste and college for all their kids. He doesn’t see the history of the name Endicott on this island.”

His father had been one of the founders, and Ray had built the name to a household level on Mimosa Key. True enough, Landon McDowell had been close to eighteen when his mother married Beth’s father, and he’d never changed his name to Endicott and Ray had never “adopted” him.

“Landon sees dollar signs,” he said with clear disappointment in his voice.

Landon and Rebecca did live high on the hog, but her stepbrother’s business acumen would be a boon to EDC. At least, that’s what she’d been telling her father. She didn’t want to be CEO of his company—because she knew damn well her father would never really stop making all the important decisions. And the unimportant ones.

“Then write the contract so he can’t change things,” Beth told him. “Put it in the fine print that he has to carry on your business in one piece and continue the development of this island and property on the mainland with the same respect you’ve shown the environment and the same dedication to success and quality.”

He threw up his hands. “See? You get it, Beth. He doesn’t.”

“He’s very smart and a successful businessman.”

“Not that successful,” he snorted, pushing to a stand. “And, damn it, he’s
not
really my son, and not my firstborn. But Josie, obviously, feels differently.”

Beth sipped her water, the habit of not discussing Josie deeply ingrained since she was young. Josie had
always
felt differently about the family. She acted like the laws of primogeniture ruled the Endicott family, and despite the fact that he was a
step
son, Landon McDowell was the oldest and qualified as the firstborn.

Beth had shared a special relationship with her father, fueled by that always-present desire to make him happy and somehow make up for the fact that her birth took the life of a woman he loved.

But as she got older—and after a marriage to another controlling man—she realized she had to make decisions for herself, not her dad. So, she didn’t really mind the fact that Landon was “favored” in so many things. It pissed off RJ, though, as he got older and realized the unfairness of his situation.

“I don’t suppose you’d consider giving some of your business to your other son?” she asked.

Dad huffed out a breath. “The one who wrecked his car and needed money to buy a new one?”

“That was last year, Dad.”

“It was the third time, Beth.” He shook his head. “RJ has to grow up.”

“You need to give him a chance to do that.”

“He’s not learning on
my
business.”

As she suspected, it would always be
his
business. Which was precisely why she didn’t want it. She didn’t want to be under that thumb. Under
anyone’s
thumb.

“You know, this is the kind of thing that tears families apart,” she said, standing up to join him and make her point. “I don’t want anything to happen to you and Josie.”

“Nothing’s going to happen with Josie.”

“But you know how she is about Landon. She’s made you happy for many, many years, Dad, and I am willing to bet everything I have that she’ll make you happy for many more. Don’t make a decision that could impact your marriage.”

He turned to her, his eyes surprisingly misty. “You have a good heart, Beth, you know that? Like Ellie.”

The reminder of her mother twisted that good heart and squeezed out that old guilt.

“And a good head for business,” he added. “So do me a favor and keep thinking about it, okay?”

“All right. I’ll think.” She pressed her temples, fighting the headache that always started when she felt like she was disappointing her dad. She had to remember her days of people-pleasing—and Dad-pleasing—were over. “But I’m beat now. I was out late last night.”

“I heard.”

She drew back at the unmistakable implication in his voice. “You did?”

He slowly walked back to the sofa and picked up the envelope, which she’d forgotten all about. “Some people at brunch today were talking about the Mimosa High reunion last night.” He lifted his brows. “Apparently, someone told Josie the sun was up when you were leaving. And not alone.”

How could she forget how small a town this was? What if he’d heard exactly who it was who’d escorted her on that walk of shame? Would he remember Ken? Of course he would—he’d remember Johnny Cavanaugh, the only employee who’d ever died as a result of an accident while working for EDC.

Dad tipped his head, as though thinking about what he was going to say. “You should be very careful being seen at seven in the morning wearing the same clothes you wore the night before.”

And there it was. The
real
reason he’d come over, which had nothing to do with his business or who he’d give it to. To tell her what to do, and what not to do. And, possibly, who with.

“You do realize I’m forty and don’t exactly need your permission to stay out all night.”

“This isn’t about my permission, Beth.” He looked down at the envelope. “Do you remember the, uh, incident with John Cavanaugh?”

The question caught her off guard. So he did know who she was with, and immediately took that association back to the…
incident
? Is that how he categorized a death at an EDC job site? “Of course I remember.”

“Then you know why I would be concerned about you speaking with his son.”

“Not exactly,” she said. “You do recall that a long time ago, he was my boyfriend.”

“But his father was killed on my site.”

She swallowed. “It’s history, Dad.”