Tidewater Inn (15 page)

Libby almost asked about the intriguing Coast Guard captain, but she didn't want to reveal her interest to Delilah. It was much safer to talk about her family.

“How long have you worked here?” She put the salad ingredients on the butcher block in the middle of the kitchen and found a chopping knife.

“Fifteen years. I came here when I was eighteen. I was in foster care and had nowhere to go when I got out of high school. Ray found me crying my eyes out on the pier. When he heard what I was going through, he offered me a job on the spot. At first I was a housekeeper, but I worked my way up. I've been manager ten years in October.”

“How many employees are here?”

Delilah stopped and thought. “Three in housekeeping, a groundskeeper, and me.”

“I wish I'd known my dad. He sounds like a really great man.”

Delilah's eyes glistened. “He was the best.”

“You sound a little in love with him.”

“Maybe I was.” Delilah put down the soup ladle. “I could never take Tina's place, but I would have been willing to try. He never looked at another woman though. Even though I let him know I was available.”

“You're much younger.”

“I'm thirty-three,” Delilah admitted.

“He was in his fifties when he died?”

“Yes, he was fifty-two. But he looked much younger.” Delilah shrugged. “The age difference never bothered me. A man like that doesn't come along often.”

Libby mixed the greens and vegetables together. “So everyone says.” She went back to the refrigerator. “No avocados?”

“There's one in that bag.” Delilah pointed to a paper sack on the counter.

“We'll have to get more. I like avocado in everything. I'll make my special avocado dressing for tonight too.”

“Sounds great. What about your mother?” Delilah asked. “Do you know much about their marriage?”

“Only that it lasted a short time. They were both young. My mother said he lit out when I was three. I was bitter about it when I was a teenager. Now I find out that my mother lied all those years. She told me he died when I was five. It's pretty devastating.”

“I'm sure it is. One thing I know about Ray—he would never shirk his responsibility.”

“My mother tried, but she was a kid at heart herself, even at fifty. I was more a parent than she was sometimes. We moved around a lot. I think I went to ten schools in twelve years.”

Delilah winced. “Some of Ray's old letters and albums are in the basement. You might want to go through them.”

“Oh, I would!” Libby began to chop the avocado.

The thought of learning more about her parents and their lives appealed to her. So much of the time she felt alone, as if a piece of herself was missing. She'd assumed the cause was some dim memory of her father. Even now that she knew he was an honorable man, his abandonment still hurt.

F
OURTEEN

T
he huge living room table felt crowded with so many around it. Alec had never eaten here at the Tidewater Inn when there were so many guests. A white linen tablecloth covered the mammoth table, and fresh flowers made a bright centerpiece. Platters were heaped with steaming lobster, and a white tureen contained the soup he'd just tasted.

“Great meal, Delilah,” he said. “No one can make she-crab soup like you.”

Delilah smiled and ladled soup into a bowl for herself. “Libby helped. Wait until you taste the avocado-ranch dressing she made from scratch.”

Libby was to his right, and she brightened at the praise. “I hope everyone likes avocados.”

“Is there any store-bought dressing?” Vanessa started to rise from her seat directly across from the table.

Her aunt Pearl shot her a look that made her sink back into her chair. “I've bought too many avocados for you to think your tastes have suddenly changed, Vanessa.”

A dull red crept up Vanessa's neck, and she tipped her chin up. “I'll try it, I guess.” The glance she shot Libby was full of challenge.

Alec wanted to tell her to stop acting like a spoiled brat, but he tucked his chin and took another sip of the soup. “I could live on this, Delilah. But I'm not going to. The lobster looks great.”

Libby glanced at Zach. “I hear we have you to thank for this fabulous dinner.”

Zach shrugged. “I had a good afternoon on the boat.”

She smiled at him. “Modesty. I like that in a man.” She turned to her other side to listen to Thomas Carter.

Alec suppressed a grin at the way Zach's shoulders squared when she called him a man. Libby had a way about her that made every man in the room want to impress her. Even old Thomas was busy telling her about the days when he built boats. She listened with the kind of attention that would make any person feel important. Why had she never married? But maybe that was a false assumption. She could be divorced.

Thomas finally ended his story. Libby glanced across the table at her siblings. “Brent, I met Kenneth Poe this morning. He told me about his client's interest in buying the inn.”

Brent stiffened and looked up from his plate. “Did he make you an offer?”

“He did.” Libby broke off a piece of French bread and dipped it in her soup. “I had no idea this place was worth so much money.”

Everyone seemed to freeze. Alec shot her a quick glance. Was she trying to see what kind of reaction she would get? The strain in the room seemed to grow. How much money had she been offered? A million or two? That would be enough to tempt most people.

“You're not going to sell, are you, honey?” Pearl asked.

“Of course she is,” Vanessa said. “She doesn't care about the family. She just wants the money.”

“I don't know yet,” Libby said. “I haven't had a chance to even think about what should be done.
You
were going to sell,” she said, directing a level gaze at Brent before glancing at Vanessa again. “Why is it all right for your brother to sell but not me? Why don't you characterize him as a money grubber?”

“Brent knows this island. He would have done what was best.”

“The offer is from the same person,” Libby said. “So there is nothing different except who is benefiting.”

“Children, let's not argue,” Pearl said. “Your father would be very displeased by your attitude to your sister, Vanessa. I'm disappointed myself. We are all family, but you're not acting like it.”

“I haven't done anything,” Brent said. “Libby, you can do whatever you want. It's your property. Dad seemed to want it that way.”

Alec winced at the coldness in Brent's voice, but Libby just nodded.

“Thank you, Brent,” she said. “I don't know what I'll do yet. It's a lovely old place. I wish I had the money to keep it. It needs a lot of repairs.” She glanced at Alec. “What do you think about a resort going in here?”

He raised his brows. “Resort? We'll need ferry service or a very long bridge to draw in enough people to support it.”

“The ferry service is coming,” she said. “That's why Nicole was here. We had a client who wanted us to restore some of the more important buildings and make Hope Beach more attractive to tourists.”

“It hasn't been announced if it is.” He glanced at Brent. “You've heard this?”

Brent nodded. “From Poe. I doubt his investor would be spending that kind of money if he wasn't sure it was happening.”

“The island will change,” Alec said. “We'll be like Ocracoke. Which is better than Myrtle Beach at least. The tourists aren't overwhelming. It's still a fishing village. We'll survive, whatever you decide.”

Delilah's spoon clattered into her bowl. “Easy enough for you to say! This place is my home. It's my
life
.” She stared at Libby. “Don't think for a minute that they won't tear this place down. That's what he told you, isn't it?”

Libby nodded. “That's the only thing holding me back. I would have to compromise my passion for historic preservation if I let them do that.”

Libby's soft answer defused Delilah's anger. The red faded from her cheeks, and she slumped back in her chair. “Don't do this. I can't bear to leave my home.”

Libby bit her lip and looked down at her plate. “I can only promise that I'll consider everything, Delilah. I'm in a hard spot. I don't have the kind of money it would take to restore the inn. Without a major investment, it's going to fall down around your ears.” She glanced at Brent. “Why did our father not keep it up? The house in the village is in great condition.”

“I can answer that,” Pearl said. “The place was due a paint job when Tina died three years ago. Ray had a small stroke, then started letting things slide. The sea is hard on buildings. They need constant maintenance. I told him he needed to spend some time here and make a project list, but he didn't do it. Then his illness turned chronic, and he decided to transfer all his liquid assets to the kids. He wanted to make sure everyone was taken care of.”

“I can understand that,” Libby said. “But he left me no money for upkeep. It was as if he wanted me to sell it.”

“I'm not sure I believe that,” Alec said.

“Then why leave me saddled with a house that's in need of so much?”

“Maybe he wanted to see what you were made of.”

She absorbed his comment, then nodded. “I suppose we'll never know.”

“What you're made of?” Alec raised his eyebrows.

“No. What he wanted me to do.”

“If anyone can figure it out, it's you,” he said.

Vanessa's head came up and she gave him a sharp glance. He realized he'd let too much of his admiration show. If Vanessa hated Libby before, it was going to be worse now.

The basement stairs creaked as Libby eased down them. The dank smell was nearly enough to make her turn tail and run, but the promise of the prize contained in the trunk below was stronger than the claustrophobia squeezing her lungs. The bare bulb in the ceiling put out enough light to see the old leather chest right where Delilah had told her it would be, against the wall beneath the shelves lined with jars of canned vegetables.

She was going to grab the albums and letters and run right back to her room with them. The place gave her the creeps. The distant sound of dripping water added to her unease, though the stone floor was dry. The place was free of cobwebs too, so Delilah must keep it swept out.

Libby hurried to the trunk and lifted the lid. The fabric-lined interior smelled of disuse. The trunk was packed with bundles of old letters and photo albums. Her pulse thumped in her throat. Would there be any mention of her or her mother in these old letters? Any photos of her?

A framed picture was in the very bottom of the trunk. Libby held it up to the light. She barely recognized the smiling young woman as her mother. Why had her father kept it all these years? His marriage to Tina seemed to have been ideal. Her mother looked like she was about twenty-five. Young and carefree. Her long, straight hair was on her shoulders, and she wore a buckskin dress covered with beads.

Her mother had been happy but never content with any situation or with any man. She was always striving for the next big thing. Everyday choices had molded her mother. Libby touched the beads at her neck. Her own choices could make her a better person if she chose wisely.

She sorted the contents, then lifted the pile of albums and letters and carried them back up the stairs and to her bedroom. There was no one around. The sun was setting, and she'd arranged to meet the reporter with Alec, so she dropped the mementos on the bed with a regretful glance and went to find him.

F
IFTEEN

L
ibby and Alec sat on the expansive porch at Tidewater Inn after sunset and listened to the ocean. “I thought he'd be here by now,” Alec said.

“I don't mind waiting,” she said. “It's a beautiful night.”

The stars were bright in the night sky, but the moon hadn't risen yet. He kept shooting glances Libby's way. She seemed so at home here.