Twice in a Lifetime (10 page)

“Not quite. I take it the news is all over the family already.” Not that she’d expected anything else.

“Honey, it’s probably all over Charleston. You know how the family is.”

“I know, believe me, I know.”

“So what’s the scoop? Now, don’t tell me if you don’t want to, but you know I’m dying to hear.”

She hesitated, but the cat was already out of the bag. Amanda might sound acerbic, but underneath was a strong vein of empathy, and the urge to spill the story was strong. “Take my advice and never get engaged to someone you work with. It makes for messy loyalties. I thought we were partners, you know? Then I found out he was taking my work and presenting it as his own. He even had the nerve to think I should be pleased about that.”

Amanda squeezed her hand. “He was a jerk. A charming jerk. You take my advice and never get involved with a charmer. You’re well rid of him.”

She managed a smile. “Unfortunately I’m rid of a job, as well. He managed to blame his mistakes on me, and I got the axe.”

Amanda’s eyes sparked with outrage. “Didn’t you fight back? Go to his boss?”

“I just wanted to get away and forget the whole thing.” “Honey…”

The waitress appeared with their salads, and Georgia leaned back while she put them on the table along with a basket of hush puppies. Beyond the window, boats moved busily in and out of Charleston harbor—pleasure boats, container ships from who-knew-where, a tour boat on its way to Fort Sumter. The gulls wheeled and shrieked, a background so familiar that she almost didn’t hear it any longer.

When the woman moved away, she shook her head at Amanda. “Don’t bother to give me the pep talk. You’d fight back. But I’m not like you. Listen, just forget about it, okay? I’m moving on.”

“If you say so. Anyway, you know I’m on your side, every time.” Amanda speared her fork into a mound of shrimp salad. “If we’re not going to talk about your engagement, I guess we’d better fall back on Miz Callie. Sorry you got landed with trying to change her mind, but that’s what happens when you’re the favorite granddaughter.”

“Get out. You know very well Miz Callie doesn’t play favorites.”

“Maybe not.” Amanda tapped her pink nail on her glass. “But I’m glad I’m not the one trying to convince her.”

“You know, and I know, that trying to convince Miz Callie to stop doing something she wants to do is…is…” “…like trying to stop the tide,” Amanda finished for her.

“Why do you s’pose our folks don’t see that?”

“I can’t imagine.” Her life would be so much easier if they did.

Amanda glanced at her wristwatch. “You talk. I’ve got to eat so I can get back to the newspaper.”

The newspaper. In her job, Amanda would have ready access to the papers from the time they were interested in.

Did she really want to bring Amanda in on this? She hesitated, eying her cousin.

“Whatever it is, you might as well just spit it out.” Amanda’s eyebrows lifted. “Come on, Georgia Lee. I know when you’re chewing on something.”

“What elegant phrasing. You use that in the paper?” “Out with it. You want something. I can tell.”

She hesitated, studying her cousin’s face. “Could you look up something in the newspaper files for me without asking questions or mentioning it to anyone else?”

Amanda tilted her head slightly. “Even family?” “Especially family.”

Her smile curved. “I promise. Cousins’ honor.” She made a quick gesture, crossing her heart.

Georgia took a breath and prayed she was doing the right thing. “Will you check the papers for the summer of 1942 and see if you can find anything about Edward Bodine?”

For a moment Amanda’s green eyes simply looked puzzled. Then Georgia saw recognition dawn.

“Edward Bodine. Granddad’s brother? The one who…” She didn’t finish the sentence.

“Uncle Ned. Right.” She grasped Amanda’s hand. “Say no if you want to. Just don’t tell anyone.”

Amanda studied her for a long moment. Then she grinned. “When did I ever say no to trouble? I’ll do my best. But I wish I knew what you’re up to.”

Relief swept through her. She could count on Amanda. “You’re better off not knowing.”

“Okay. I’ll buy that.” Amanda stared at her for a long moment. “But just remember one thing, Georgia Lee. People who play with fire are likely to get burned.”

Chapter Seven

G
eorgia had hoped to get her grandmother reminiscing about Uncle Ned that evening, but once they’d finished the dishes, she found that Lindsay was joining them. Something in her expression must have alerted Miz Callie that she wasn’t thrilled at the thought.

“I enjoy having Lindsay here,” Miz Callie said, emphasizing the words with the clatter of a pot lid into the sink. “Is that a problem for you?”

Her disenchantment with Matt couldn’t be allowed to affect her attitude toward the little girl. “I’m glad to see Lindsay. I was looking forward to having a nice talk with my favorite grandmother, that’s all.”

Miz Callie waved the words away with a flip of her dish towel, smiling. “She won’t stay long, so we can talk all you want later. Matt has to finish up some work at the office after supper.”

It was probably the work he’d neglected while he was searching through tedious computer records for Ned Bodine. She ought to feel grateful. She would, if she didn’t understand his motives so clearly.

“Here she comes now.” Miz Callie peered out the kitchen window. “We’re goin’ on the beach. You coming?”

“I’ll be along in a minute. I want to get something.” When she descended the stairs a few minutes later, Miz

Callie was ensconced in her favorite beach chair, with Lindsay digging in the sand at her feet.

Grabbing a chair, Georgia slung the cloth bag contain-ing her sketching materials over her shoulder. She walked down the short path through the dunes.

“Hey.” She flipped the beach chair open and sat down. “You diggin’ your way to China, Lindsay?”

“I’m making a lake for Julie and Janie to play in.” Julie and Janie were apparently the two tiny plastic dolls that lay on the sand.

“They’ll like that.” She opened the sketch pad and sat back, taking in the scene.

The tide ebbed, leaving an expanse of shining sand traced with an intricate pattern of ghost crab trails and sandpiper prints. She began to draw.

Lindsay appeared at her elbow. “What are you drawing?” “What I see.” That probably sounded a little short, though she didn’t mean it that way. “I have an extra pad

with me. Would you like to draw?”

Lindsay clasped her hands behind her back. “I’m not very good.”

It was the sort of thing she said about herself. She didn’t like hearing it from Lindsay. “Drawing is one of those things you can do just for fun.” She held the pad and a few colored pencils out to Lindsay.

“What should I draw?” She sat on the sand. “What do you see?”

Lindsay craned her neck as she looked around. “I see a sea gull sitting in the sand. But that’d be hard to draw.”

“For fun, remember?”

Lindsay nodded. Then she bent over the pad.

Georgia tried to concentrate on her own drawing, but she couldn’t help watching Lindsay. The child was certainly tied up in knots. Was that part of the aftermath of losing her mother? She couldn’t even guess.

She’d never thought herself particularly maternal. Annabel, Amanda’s twin, had all the maternal instincts. Even when they were children, it was always Annabel who comforted people and critters when they hurt. She’d collected more strays than the animal shelter.

She didn’t have those instincts, but she felt the softening of her heart when she watched Lindsay. Despite a large, loving family, she knew what it was to feel lonely.

Lindsay held the pad back a little, frowning at her picture. “It doesn’t look right. See?”

True, the picture didn’t look much like the sea gull, but at least it was identifiable as a bird.

“I like it,” she said. “I don’t believe I drew birds that well when I was seven.” She handed it to her grandmother. “I do like it, too. I’ll bet you’d enjoy coloring it,

wouldn’t you?” “Yes, ma’am.”

That was the first time she’d heard Lindsay add the familiar Southern grace note of calling Miz Callie “ma’am,” and it made both of them smile.

“You’re turning into a real island girl,” Miz Callie said. “Even sounding like a native.”

Lindsay frowned. “What’s a native?”

“Somebody who was born here, sugar.” Georgia tugged the blond ponytail lightly. “But we take outlanders, too, long as they learn as fast as you do.”

Lindsay bent over her picture, but Georgia didn’t miss the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Lindsay shot a sideways glance at Georgia. “You said I was seven. But I’m almost eight.”

“It’s a good picture, even for an eight-year-old,” Georgia said promptly.

“Almost eight.” Miz Callie echoed the child’s words. “When is your birthday?”

“Tuesday.” A cloud crossed Lindsay’s face. “Last year I had a party at the jump palace with all my friends. My mommy got me a cake with a princess on it.”

They were silent for a moment.

“I’ll bet your daddy is planning to do something special.”
He’d better be.

She shrugged. “He said maybe I could have a party. But I don’t know enough kids to invite to a party.”

“You know me,” Miz Callie said briskly. “And you know Georgia, and I’ll bet you’re meeting some friends at Bible school.”

“That’s right.” At this point, she’d say just about anything to wipe that woebegone look from Lindsay’s face. “You’ll have a real island celebration for your birthday.”

“What’s this about a birthday?” Matt’s voice sounded behind them.

Georgia jerked around. She’d expected to see him walking down the beach, at which point she could have disappeared into the house. He’d evidently parked in front of Miz Callie’s and come back on the path instead.

“We were talking about Lindsay’s birthday,” Miz Callie said, getting up and stretching. “We can’t believe she’s going to be eight already.”

“Next week.” Matt leaned over Lindsay’s chair. “What a great picture. Did Georgia help you?”

“She did it all herself,” Georgia said quickly. “Georgia let me use her paper and pencils,” Lindsay

said. “I want to give it to Miz Callie.”

“Why, thank you so much.” Miz Callie held out her arm, and Lindsay went to lean against her. “We’ll hang it up in the kitchen so I can see it every day.”

Miz Callie’s refrigerator had always been host to a rotating display of grandkids’ art. Now Lindsay’s picture would take its place there.

Lindsay glanced at her father. “Can I help hang it up before we go home?”

“Sure enough.” Miz Callie started to pick up her chair, but Matt took it from her.

“You go ahead. I’ll help Georgia take the chairs up.”

Obviously he had something to say to her. Miz Callie held out her hand to Lindsay. “We’ll see if there are any cookies in the jar, long as we’re going to the kitchen.”

Georgia watched them head for the cottage, her throat tightening. Her grandmother had become a little stooped, moving more slowly than she once did. But she still focused her total attention on the child by her side.

She bent to pick up a chair, but Matt stopped her. “Wait. Please.” The
please
sounded like an afterthought.

“We need to talk.”

“I have to go in.” She didn’t want to hear anything he had to say, not right at the moment. Maybe they had to work together, but she wouldn’t let herself be drawn into believing this was anything more than business to him.

“It’s important.”

Her gaze rose to his face. “Did you find out something?”

“No, I didn’t. Why are you angry with me?”

The blunt question shook her. She looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. “Why would I be angry?” Her voice sounded calm and detached, and she was proud of that.

“That’s what I’d like to know.” His fingers closed on her

hand, as if to keep her there, and his palm was warm against her skin. “One minute we were talking about your grandmother’s case, and the next you shot out of my office as if a monster were after you.”

“I didn’t…I mean, I was late.” Why didn’t she just tell him? Amanda would. Amanda would square up to him and tell him just what she thought.

But she wasn’t Amanda.

“That’s not it, and you know it.” His voice was edged with frustration, and his fingers pressed against her skin. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Her heart began to thud. “You! You’re what’s wrong.” He stared at her blankly. “What are you talking about?”

His eyes grew icy. “I’m an outsider, is that it?”

“No, that’s not it. I don’t care where you’re from. I do care that you’re using my grandmother to further your career.”

He stiffened. “Is that really what you think of me?” “That’s what you said. You need a big case involving

someone who’ll give you the opening you need to break in here. My grandmother was perfect for you, wasn’t she? Everybody knows the Bodine name. You took advantage of living next door to her. You talked her into—”

“Stop right there.” The words were so heavy with anger that they silenced her.

But he didn’t continue. Instead he took a breath, looked down at his hand gripping hers and loosened his hold so that his fingers encircled her wrist lightly.