Haven Creek (4 page)

“Perhaps it’s both.”

She sobered. “You were sitting with the ladies that make up the recently formed Cavanaugh Island Beautification Committee. Their raison d’être is beautifying the Cove and Creek business districts and also some of the less than attractive homes in the Landing. But the word is they’re better suited to matchmaking. They began targeting any single person from twenty to forty after an op-ed piece appeared in the
Chronicle
about high school kids who leave home to go to college or into the military but opt not to come back here to live. Jeff was the exception when he came back after his grandmother’s heart attack. So when you decided to sit with them it was like walking into a minefield.”

“What about you, Mo? You’re still here.”

“And you came back,” she countered in a soft tone.

He nodded. “That’s because my family needed me.” A beat passed. “Have they ever tried hooking you up with someone?”

Morgan took a step backward, and he dropped his arms. “Too many times to count,” she admitted as they continued to walk.

“I suppose they’ll stop now that you’re with David.” Her gentle laughter floated in the air. “What’s so funny?” Nate asked.

“What’s funny is there’s nothing going on between David and me. We’re just friends.”

He had his answer. Morgan and David weren’t seeing each other, which made her fair game for the ladies who apparently were using their beautification activities as a smoke screen for a matchmaking or dating service. Nate didn’t understand why it’d been so important to know her relationship status, because if he were to have a relationship with Morgan—or any woman, for that matter—he feared it would be short-lived.

He thought about what Morgan said about leaving the island. He’d been one of those who’d left to attend college, but instead of returning to pick up the reins of Shaw Woodworking he’d decided to live in California. And it’d taken nearly twenty years for him to find his way back home.

In a way, his life had paralleled that of his friend Jeff, who’d left to attend college and then went into the Marine Corps. Jeff had come back to care for his grandmother, whereas Nate had returned to look after his brother and take over the family business. Unlike Jeff, though, Nate doubted he would remarry. He’d been there, done that, and wasn’t about to have his heart ripped apart again.

They were near the parking area when he said, “I want to stop and get my sunglasses.”

“And I have to go to my car and change my shoes,” Morgan added.

Nate glanced down at her narrow feet. Although they were sexy, the stiletto heels were not practical for walking on grassy surfaces. “It’s a wonder you can walk in those things.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice. I used to put on my mother’s heels and play dress-up, so when it came time to wear them I was already a pro.”

Resting a hand at the small of Morgan’s back, he steered her away from the cars maneuvering into the line for valet parking. “We’ll go to your car first, and then mine.” Now he knew what his father had been talking about when Morgan opened her tiny purse. She pressed a button on her key fob and remotely opened the hatch on a gleaming white Cadillac Escalade. It was a full-size luxury hybrid SUV with seating for eight.

“Nice ride,” he crooned. Nate found the smell of leather as intoxicating as that of raw wood.

Morgan beamed, as if he had complimented her baby. “Thank you.” She exchanged her stilettos for a pair of patterned Burberry flats. Her head came up, and she glanced at him staring down at her. “I’m ready,” she announced after closing the hatch.

Nate blinked, as if coming out of a trance. He felt like a voyeur because he’d found himself unable to stop staring at her legs. “Do you always keep boots in your truck?” Morgan had stored a pair of Doc Martens and a hard hat in the cargo area.

Morgan nodded. She slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “I keep them around in case I have to go to a construction site.”

He protectively took her hands in his and noticed her fingers were cold as ice. “Are your hands always so cold?”

Morgan smiled up at him. “Cold hands, warm heart.”

Nate had no comeback for her quip, because he didn’t know Morgan as well as he knew her sisters, who were closer to his age. Besides, knowing her better would only lead to trouble. He wasn’t interested in getting involved with any woman in the Creek, the Cove, or the Landing. All the relationships he’d had in college and those that followed ended badly, but when he met Kim he’d believed his luck had changed. They dated for more than a year, then moved in together. Six months later they announced their engagement, and on the one-year anniversary of their first date they married in a typical high-profile celebrity Hollywood wedding, with helicopters buzzing overhead and paparazzi with telephoto lenses attempting to capture images of the private gathering.

It ended when Kim bragged publicly about her extramarital exploits. The revelation nearly destroyed him emotionally, and Nate was forced to examine himself, asking what he hadn’t done to keep her faithful. He discovered he’d done nothing wrong, but her affair further proved that he had issues with trust. He hadn’t trusted his father or his stepmother, or his former wife.

Nate managed to find his gunmetal-gray truck without too much difficulty. Unlike Morgan, he hadn’t brought a spare key and had to wait for the valet to open the Sequoia. He plucked the sunglasses off the console, placed them on the bridge of his nose, and then returned the key fob to the waiting valet.

“Now I’m ready,” Nate told Morgan, reaching for her hand again. “Why is it you never moved away again?” he asked after a comfortable silence.

M
organ pondered Nate’s question as she attempted to form an answer that would sound credible not only to him but also herself. How could she tell this man that she’d carried a torch for him for years? That she’d returned hoping that he would, too? That even when she met other men she’d found herself comparing them to Nate?

She was thirteen when she experienced her first crush. It began at Perry’s. The small Charleston-based eatery was a popular hangout for local high school students. She’d gone to the mainland with her older sister to look for a dress for her eighth grade graduation, and when Rachel suggested stopping at Perry’s, Morgan could hardly contain her excitement.

Most of Cavanaugh’s grade school kids couldn’t wait to attend high school on the mainland, where hanging out at Perry’s was a rite of passage. There were designated sections in the restaurant for seniors, juniors, sophomores, and freshmen. And if a senior walked in and couldn’t find a seat, then a lowly freshman was obligated to forfeit his. Rachel said girls were the exception; they were never asked to give up their coveted seats for any male upperclassmen.

Morgan couldn’t believe the noise level: It appeared as if everyone were talking at once, even as music blared nonstop from a colorful jukebox. Her attention was drawn to Nate, who sat in a booth with her cousin Jesse. Although Haven Creek was the least populated of the towns on the island, and everyone there knew one another, children usually only interacted with those in their own age group. With Nate being four years her senior, Morgan rarely spoke to him.

But that afternoon was different. She and Rachel shared the booth with Jesse and Nate, and he asked her if she was looking forward to high school. The fact that he’d seemingly taken an interest in her had caused her heart to beat so fast that she felt light-headed. And because he was the first boy in the Creek who’d made her feel special, she’d fantasized about being in love with him.

He was so different from the junior high boys, who’d taken to calling her Olive Oyl. When she researched the name on the Internet, Morgan was devastated to see a tall, skinny animated character with long black hair rolled into a bun. Even after her body had filled out and the same boys who’d called her names asked her out, she’d rejected them because she wasn’t able to forget their cruel adolescent comments.

She was a sophomore in college when she had her first date, and it was during her junior year abroad that she engaged in what had become her first serious relationship. It had taken leaving the States and falling in love with a man who wasn’t an American for Morgan to acknowledge the full extent of her femininity.

She eased her hand from Nate’s when they reached a meadow where a stream flowed into a large pond. Flocks of ducks and swans had settled down under a copse of weeping willow trees to escape the afternoon heat. Morgan and Nate stood under an ancient oak draped in Spanish moss, which shielded them from the sun.

“I didn’t leave because I’ve never wanted to run away.”

Nate gave her a sidelong glance. “You think folks that leave Cavanaugh Island are running away?”

Morgan turned to face Nate, wishing she could see his eyes behind the dark lenses. “Not everyone. Just those who made it known they couldn’t wait to leave.”

His eyebrows lifted a fraction. “Didn’t you leave the state for college?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head. “Why, when you could’ve gone to Clemson? I happen to know they have a wonderful architecture program.”

She nodded, staring at a black swan flapping its raven wings as it rose majestically and landed on the water, creating widening ripples. Several gray ducklings followed the magnificent bird, swimming in a single column. “That’s true, but I’d always wanted to go to Howard University because it’s my parents’ alma mater. I enrolled there as an engineering student, then halfway through my second year I switched my major to architecture.”

Slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks, Nate breathed out an audible sigh. “You went to D.C., but then you came back.”

Morgan smiled. “I was glad to be home because I’d spent my junior and half my senior year abroad. I left the Creek again to enroll in a graduate program at the Savannah College of Art and Design.”

“I’m sure you received quite a few job offers.”

“I did,” Morgan confirmed. “I had a visiting professor at SCAD who’d sent my portfolio to a San Francisco firm. I flew out there for an interview, and they rolled out the red carpet. The partners were willing to pay for me to relocate and advance me enough money to buy a condo. They were also offering a six-figure starting salary with perks that included a company car and expense account.”

“Why didn’t you take it?” Nate asked.

“They wanted me to design celebrity mansions, but my focus is historic preservation.”

“So you turned them down.” His query was a statement.

“Yes.”

“Did you ever regret your decision?”

She shook her head. “Not once. I was hired as an architectural assistant with Ellison and Murphy. What they paid me didn’t compare to what I would’ve earned in California, but sometimes it’s not all about money.”

Nate angled his head. “If it’s not money, then what is it about?”

Morgan gave him a direct stare. “It’s about staying connected to my family.”

“Staying connected nowadays is as easy as a keystroke,” he argued softly. “If it isn’t with a cell phone, then it’s e-mail, instant messages, texting, or even Skype.”

“Maybe I should’ve said I wanted to remain connected to my roots.” She chewed her lower lip. “I wasn’t homesick when I lived in Savannah because it’s the Lowcountry, and it’s only a two-hour drive between Savannah and Charleston.” Morgan saw a tiny rabbit scurry across the grass and disappear into a hole under a flowering bush. “I’m certain you remember the military recruiters at the high school targeting Cavanaugh Island boys because they knew from past experience that they could easily sign them up. The number of eligible bachelors dropped so drastically that girls from the island had to resort to online dating to find a man. And when they did find one willing to marry them, they, too, left.”

A hint of a smile played at the corners of Nate’s mouth. “Did you go online looking for a man?”

“No,” she replied much too quickly.

“Would you ever sign up for online dating?”

“I’m not that much of a risk taker. It would be my luck to hook up with a psychopath.”

Nate laughed softly. “And I’m certain there are a lot of them lurking behind too-good-to-be-true profiles.” He sobered. “Are you staying because you’re looking for a Cavanaugh Island husband?”

She emitted a nervous laugh. “I’m not looking for a husband. And I doubt if I would ever marry a man who grew up here.” Even if she’d forgiven most of the boys who’d teased and taunted her, she didn’t think she would ever forget coming home, holding back tears, and locking herself in her bedroom, where she cried until she had dry heaves.

Adolescence hadn’t been an easy time for Morgan. She’d towered over most boys from grade school to her last year in high school. It was a fact that girls matured earlier than their male counterparts, but for Morgan it took a while to develop the curves other girls flaunted when they were still in junior high.

She didn’t want to talk about herself because it conjured up the memories she’d locked away in the farthest recesses of her mind. She wanted to know more about Nate. He’d come back to Haven Creek around Thanksgiving and had kept to himself. When she and Francine went on their early morning bike rides, they rode past the structure that had housed Shaw Woodworking for nearly a century. When she did see Nate, he was working on the roof of the barn, which was still under construction.

“If you weren’t running away from Cavanaugh Island, then why didn’t you come back?” Morgan knew she’d caught him off guard with her query when she heard his intake of breath.

The seconds ticked by, and after a full minute Nate said, “At that time in my life, living in California suited my temperament.”

“Now that you’re back, do you plan to stay?”

Pulling his hands from his pockets, Nate folded his arms over his chest. “What’s this all about, Morgan? Why all the questions?”

Morgan knew that what she intended to propose to Nate would change his life as much as hers had changed when Kara Newell commissioned her to oversee the restoration of Angels Landing Plantation. “I just need to know if you plan to live here for the next three to five years.”

“What if I say no?”

“Then we have nothing to talk about,” Morgan said, turning and walking back the way they’d come.

Moving quickly, Nate caught her upper arm. “I give you an answer you don’t want to hear and you walk away,” he whispered in her ear. He dropped his hand and took a step until they were facing each other. “Did you ask me to meet you to talk about a project or did you need me to…”

“Need you to do what, Nate?” she asked when he didn’t finish his statement.

“Run interference between you and your male admirers?”

Her jaw dropped, no words coming from her gaping mouth. Then she laughed, the sound shattering the stillness of the afternoon. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

“What am I to think?” he countered. “You claim you left two messages—”

“I did leave messages, but not to ask you to go out with me. I have as much interest in you romantically as I have in coming down with a case of poison ivy.”

“Damn, Mo. That’s cold.”

“I’m not saying I would never go out with you, but I try not to mix business with pleasure.”

Morgan hadn’t lied. She wasn’t that thirteen-year-old girl hoping, praying, fantasizing that Nate would fall in love with her and they would live happily ever after. Every year she’d wait for him to come back, to show him that she’d grown up. But when he didn’t, her feelings changed and she was resigned to the fact that there would never be anything more between them than friendship. When the news of his engagement to a supermodel was splashed across the pages of entertainment magazines, Morgan felt nothing, and it was then she knew she had matured not only physically but mentally as well.

She tilted her chin in a defiant gesture. “I’ve been commissioned to oversee the preservation of Angels Landing Plantation, and that includes the house and construction of outbuildings. Artisans from the Creek will be given priority over those in the Cove, the Landing, and the mainland. Shaw Woodworking is at the top of my list as a source for skilled carpenters to recreate the slave village. I would’ve spoken to your father, but I’ve heard that he’s semiretired.” Morgan knew that Nate was the best there was for this project and hoped he would accept the job.

If Nate had had one wish, it would be to retract his words. There was no doubt he’d come down with a lethal case of foot-in-mouth disease. He ran a hand over his head, cursing to himself. Perhaps he should’ve waited to hear her out before he opened his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Mo. I don’t know why I said that.”

She waved a hand in dismissal. “Forget about it.”

“I can’t. I was out of line.”

“If you’re apologizing, then I accept your apology. Now, can we get back to business?”

Pushing up his glasses, Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. Restoring a house to its original state was a monumental undertaking that would probably take years to complete. Attention to detail would be vital to ensuring authenticity. He wanted to turn down Morgan’s offer because he barely had time to complete the work Shaw Woodworking had already been commissioned to do. And there was still the barn, which he wanted to finish before the end of the summer. However, if he could get Bryce to assist him, then perhaps he could help Morgan with her project.

“I don’t know, Morgan. I’ll have to think about it.”

“I don’t want to pressure you, but I’m going to need your answer before the end of next week; otherwise I’ll have to contact someone else. I’ve projected three to five years to complete the entire restoration.”

He was taken aback by the sudden chill in her voice. It was apparent that Morgan was no shrinking violet. She had a business to run, and for every businessperson, time translated into money. “Can you give me a hint of what I’d be involved with if I decide to accept your offer?”

“You’ll have to come by my office and I’ll show you the schematic.”

“What’s the address?”

“It’s on Main Street off Moss Alley, two doors down from the Muffin Corner. You can find me there most nights.”

“What made you open an office in the Cove and not the Creek?”

Morgan laughed. “You must think I’m a traitor not to live and work in the Creek, but I didn’t want to be in direct competition with my former employers. It would be like rubbing salt in an open wound. They were shocked when I handed in my resignation, and mad as hell when they found out I’d opened an office in the Cove. I only have one client, yet they bad-mouth me every chance they get.”

“One client and a restoration project of historic proportions. There’s no doubt when this land is fully restored it will draw as much attention as Mansfield Plantation and Middleton Place.”

Morgan clasped her hands behind her back to keep from throwing her arms around Nate’s neck and kissing him. Nate hadn’t seen her plans for the restoration, yet he’d fully grasped her vision for the historic landmark house and land. She unclasped her hands.
He’s got it!
screamed the voice in her head.

“You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?” he asked.

She compressed her lips. “How do you know?”

“Your eyes, Mo. They give you away.”

“You have no idea how much this project means to me,” Morgan admitted. “It’s not about becoming my own boss as much as it is about saving a culture that makes me proud to say I’m Gullah.”

Nate smiled, exhibiting a mouth filled with straight white teeth. “I understand where you’re coming from. When I lived in California, people always made fun of my accent. I tried to explain that I was Gullah, but they looked at me as if I’d come from outer space.”