Haven Creek (8 page)

Even though the Shaws and the Danes lived within walking distance of each other, Nate hadn’t regarded them as neighbors. It wasn’t until he and Morgan rode the same bus to high school that he realized she’d changed. She was tall—much taller than her female counterparts and many of the boys her age. She’d either style her hair in a single braid or occasionally pull it up in a ponytail. He would already be seated on the bus when she would board, and she and Francine would always sit together.

He usually didn’t say much to her except to acknowledge her when passing in the halls. The few times he’d engaged her in conversation she was either with her older sisters or her cousin Jesse, who treated her as if she were his younger sister.

The fact that he was four years her senior meant that she was off-limits. Nate had preferred dating girls his age or a year or two older. There was still a four-year age difference between them, but things had changed. Both were consenting adults, if either decided they wanted a relationship.

Relationship!
That single word rocked him to the core. He’d told himself he would never become involved in another relationship, but here he was contemplating one with Morgan. And he knew if they did have one it would never lead to a commitment or marriage.

I doubt if I would ever marry a man who grew up here.
Morgan’s statement came rushing back with vivid clarity. Even though he’d been away for a long time, Nate was one of those who had grown up on Cavanaugh Island. He didn’t know what it was about Cavanaugh Island boys that turned her off, but this was one time he was glad they did, because in that instant he decided he liked Morgan enough to date her—and not because she’d helped thwart Trina’s amorous advances.

“Didn’t I tell you that you don’t get out enough?” she said teasingly. “Jack’s started delivering last year, when the locals complained they couldn’t get a seat at the restaurant because of the tourists. Otis and Miss Vina hired high school students to make deliveries to island residents. They begin the Memorial Day weekend and end Labor Day. Once the tourists leave everything goes back to normal. We don’t have to jostle for space on the sidewalks, you can always find a parking spot in the business district, and if you take the ferry then you’re not packed in like sardines. A couple of summers ago they started running two ferries instead of one between here and the mainland.” She glanced at her watch. “Jack’s is probably filled to capacity and you’ll have to wait more than an hour to be seated. Tell me what you want and I’ll add it to my order. Deliveries usually take under a half hour.”

“You’re right, Mo.”

“What am I right about?” Morgan asked.

A hint of a smile softened Nate’s mouth. “Not getting out enough. Maybe you can help remedy that.”

Her eyebrows lifted inquiringly. “How can I help you?”

“Go out with me. Since I’ve been back the only places I go are the Charleston lumberyard and the hardware store to pick up supplies and tools.”

“All work and no play, Nate. You know what they say about that?”

He nodded. “I know. It will make me dull.”

She sobered quickly. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

“Well, I did promise Jesse I would come to the club.”

She pushed out her lips. “And my cousin can be relentless when you promise him something.” Morgan studied him with a curious intensity that made Nate believe she was about to reject his offer. A beat passed, then she said, “Okay. I’ll go with you to the Happy Hour. I’ll let you know when I’m available.”

Nate curbed the urge to pump his fist in triumph. He’d finally convinced her to go out with him. Maybe after spending time together he would understand what it was about Morgan that drew him to her.

“I’ll go along with whatever you want, Mo.” He’d agree to almost anything just to have her go out with him.

Morgan could not believe what she’d agreed to do. Had she truly lost her mind? Anyone who went to the club knew that if a group of guys or women came in together they were there for guys’ or girls’ night out. If she and Nate were to go together, then they would be thought of as a couple. Going to the club as a couple would only intensify the gossip that had begun at Kara and Jeff’s wedding reception.

“I’m going to give you my business card,” she said, her voice shaded in neutral tones as she stood up and walked to the desk. Picking up a pen, she jotted down a number on the reverse side. “I’m also including my home number. If I don’t pick up, then leave a voice mail.”

Nate stood up. “The shop’s voice mail is working now. Please give me your cell phone and I’ll program it with my numbers.” Morgan handed him the card and her cell phone. “Are there any new dishes on Jack’s menu?” he asked.

“No. The only change is smaller children’s portions. Other than that it’s the same.” Morgan watched him tap the screen as he programmed several numbers into her phone. “How many numbers do you have?”

Glancing up, Nate smiled at her. “I’m giving you my cell. Also my sister’s number, because I’ve been living with her until my apartment is ready, and my dad’s cell.”

“Haven Creek isn’t so big that I won’t be able to find you. What do you plan to do? Go MIA?”

“No.” He handed her back the iPhone. “I didn’t bust my hump for the past five months putting up that barn to cut and run. I plan to be around for a very long time.” Nate squinted at Morgan. “I hope you weren’t thinking I was going to run out with your money. You don’t trust me, do you?” he said before she could answer.

“Of course I trust you.”

“I was just checking.”

Pinpoints of heat stung her cheeks once she realized that Nate was teasing her. After all, it wasn’t her money but Kara’s. The newly married Mrs. Jeffrey Hamilton—a direct descendant of Shipley Patton, the original owner of Angels Landing—had put up more than five million dollars to begin the restoration of the property that had been in her family since the l830s.

Morgan didn’t know Nate well enough to have witnessed this side of his personality. When most boys were, as the older folks would say,
cuttin’ the fool,
he’d always been rather serious, something she’d attributed to the fact that he had lost his mother. Morgan hadn’t attended Manda Shaw’s funeral, but those who did talked about it for a long time. Lucas and Sharon had been inconsolable, while Nate hadn’t shed a tear. Miss Hester claimed someone in the family had to be strong for the rest of the Shaws.

Three months later, gossip spread across the island like a lighted fuse attached to a stick of dynamite when Lucas married Odessa. Morgan had been too young to understand what all the talk was about when Nate’s younger brother was born. And if there was one rule in the Dane household that was enforced to the letter, it was not repeating gossip. Neither Morgan nor her sisters were permitted to talk about their friends or what they’d overheard. Just this week, when she and her sisters had joined their parents for Sunday dinner, Rachel had been abruptly silenced with a disapproving glare from her mother when she opened her mouth to repeat what she’d heard about Morgan and Nate.

“If we’re going to work together, then we have to learn to trust each other.”

“I do trust you, Mo. Otherwise I never would’ve given you my word about re-creating the slave village.”

Morgan studied his face feature by feature, searching for a hint of guile. Even if the feelings she’d had for Nate resurfaced, she knew they would always take a backseat to the rebuilding of Angels Landing Plantation. Updating her wish list kept her focused.

“As long as we understand each other, I know we’ll get along well.”

“As long as we keep in mind it’s only business and nothing personal then we should get along famously,” Nate countered. “And that includes going to Happy Hour together,” he added.

“I never mix business and pleasure.”

Morgan hadn’t lied to Nate. Unfortunately, she’d discovered the wisdom of this principle when she studied abroad. She’d had an affair with her professor, and when it ended she realized she wasn’t the first female student he’d seduced. She’d wanted more and he didn’t. And for her, it’d become once bitten, twice shy.

If she hadn’t been on the rebound from what had proved to be a relationship in which her heart had overruled whatever common sense she had at the time, Morgan never would’ve become involved with the much older and more worldly professor. It’d taken years before she felt comfortable dating again, and none of those relationships progressed beyond the platonic stage.

“Now that we’ve settled that, what do you want to order from Jack’s?” she asked.

“I’d like neck bones and gravy with a side order of perlow rice.”

“Smoked or fresh bones?”

“Fresh,” he said, smiling.

“Those are my favorites, too,” Morgan said as she scrolled through her cell’s directory for the number for Jack’s Fish House. “Every order comes with a container of sweet tea and biscuits. Do you want dessert?”

“No, thank you.”

Even though she cooked for herself, Morgan ordered from Jack’s at least twice a week. She didn’t know what it was that made their dishes so exceptional. Whenever someone asked Otis or Luvina Jackson their secret for concocting some of the best dishes in the region, their answer was their pots. The rice pots, cast iron skillets, and Dutch ovens were seasoned from years of preparing recipes that had been passed down through countless generations of Lowcountry Gullahs.

She added Nate’s order to her own shrimp cakes and crab cakes with a side of potato salad. “Make sure to deliver it to M. Dane Architecture.”

“Is that off Moss Alley in the Cove, ma’am?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Someone will be there in about twenty minutes.”

“Thank you.”

Morgan hung up. “Twenty minutes.” She waved away the two large bills Nate had taken out of his pocket. “Jack’s sends me a statement at the end of each month.”

Folding his arms over his chest, Nate gave her an incredulous look. “You order that much food from them?”

“I order whenever I have a meeting, and I provide lunch for my receptionist, Samara Lambert.”

“Last week she and her husband, Nelson, rented the vacant house across the road from my dad’s.”

“Jeff hired Nelson as a deputy sheriff, and as a condition of his employment he had to move from the Cove to the Creek. Now we have resident law enforcement in all three towns. Nelson got back from being deployed last year, and even though Samara is a teacher she was having a hard time making ends meet with him gone. Samara offered to work for me as a part-time receptionist now that her kids are on summer break.”

“What are you going to do when school starts again?” Nate asked.

Morgan paused. It was a question she’d asked herself many times. “I’m hoping to find someone with some interior design experience. They don’t have to be full-time, because I spend most of my time in the office.”

“What if you have to leave?”

“I try and schedule appointments to go to furniture warehouses or textile shops on weekends. Do you know anyone willing to work at least twenty to twenty-five hours a week?”

Nate shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t think of anyone.”

“It would be easy if I’d opened an office in Savannah because I could always get a student from SCAD.”

“So you have a degree in architecture from Howard and a graduate degree in interior design from Savannah College of Art and Design?”

“I also have a postgraduate degree from SCAD in historic preservation.”

“No wonder you’re not married,” Nate remarked glibly. “You’ve been a professional student most of your adult life.”

His words had the same effect on Morgan as they would have if she had taken hold of a rosebush with her bare hand. The thorns stabbed and drew blood. “I wouldn’t be able to balance marriage, motherhood, and a career at this time in my life.”

“Women do it every day. Look at my sister and yours.”

“My sisters stayed home for two years after their children were born, and that’s something I wouldn’t be able to do even if I were married right now. If I did marry, then I would have to delay becoming a mother until Angels Landing is completed. And you’re a fine one to talk, Nate. You’re pushing forty and I don’t see you with little Shaws running around.” If looks could kill, there was no doubt that Morgan would’ve dropped dead the instant Nate glared at her.

“I wanted children, but my ex-wife didn’t, because her career was more important than our marriage.”

“I’m…I’m sorry—”

Nate put up his hand. “There’s nothing to apologize for, Morgan. The topic is moot.”

Her temper flared. “You were the one who brought it up.”

“I know and am I’m sorry I did. Can we call a truce?”

Crossing her arms under her breasts, Morgan turned her back. “I’ll think about it.”

Taking two steps, Nate pressed his chest to her back. “How long are you going to think about it?” he whispered in her ear.

Morgan couldn’t think, not with his body touching hers so intimately. “Don’t!” she screamed, laughing uncontrollably when he tickled her ribs. “Stop!”

“Have you thought about it?”

“Yes!”

“What say you?” he asked, his hands moving up her rib cage.

“I give up! Truce.” Tears were streaming down her face from uncontrollable laughter. She managed to put some distance between them when he finally dropped his arms. Wiping the moisture with her fingertips, Morgan glared at Nate. “One of these days when you least expect it I’m going to pay you back.”

A wide grin parted his lips. “Is that any way to talk to a friend?”

The doorbell rang, preempting what she wanted to tell him about friendship. Friends didn’t tease friends. Brushing past him, she walked in the direction of the front door. Nate’s fingers tightened around her upper arm and stopped her retreat.

“Stay here, Mo. I’ll get it.”

Morgan was still in the same position when Nate returned, carrying two bags with Jack’s logo on them. “This one is yours.”

“Please put it on the table in the lounge. I’ll eat it later.”

“You’re not going home?”

“Not yet. I still have some research to finish and print out before I leave.”