The Mentor (Necessary Lies Book 1) (16 page)

Declan shook his head, “I’m walking you to your door, Charlotte. You can’t get rid of me so easily. Besides, I have a thought.”

“A thought?” she asked, skeptical. “And what would that be?”

“Well,” he said. “Just hear me out. Because I know we just met and this might come off very strange.”

Charlotte sighed, “If you did all of this just to get me to come home with you, it’s a waste of time. I’m not interested.”

He paused for a moment and then laughed, “No! I mean, not that… Charlotte, that’s not what I am getting at. Shit. Did you think I did this to score a hook up?”

Charlotte shrugged, “Yes. No. I guess I’m not your type.”

Declan sighed, “Charlotte, you’re every man’s type. But that’s not what I’m getting at. Also, what a way to deflate a guy’s ego. Anyway, I wanted to mention… I live at my parents’ house on Meeting. And they have a carriage house that they’ve rented out to friends of mine before, and my buddy that rented it this semester is traveling abroad to Florence for the summer. So it’s free. And you happen to need a place, so I thought… Maybe you’d be interested?” He looked down at his sneakers, not sure what else to say, and wanting her to say yes to his offer, more than he’d want to admit.

She was quiet for a moment.

“I mean,” she said. “It’s an awfully nice offer. I would normally decline… But. I really am kind of desperate. How much would it be?” Charlotte looked at him, clearly anxious about the answer.

“Whatever you pay at your apartment now,” Declan said. “Or less, if that helps. Our place has long since been paid for, so it’s not a big deal. Whatever works for you.”

He was sure she was going to say no. I mean; they’d known one another barely an hour. But he couldn’t help but think that their encounter wasn’t just by chance. That maybe he could somehow fix it so she never had to cry on a bridge again. At least not over something like where she would live.

“Okay,” she said. “I can’t believe this, but yes. And thank you. I can’t express…” Her voice caught for a moment, but then she composed herself. “I can’t express to you how grateful I am. But only if you’re sure.”

Declan grinned, “I’ve never been more sure.”
Of anything
, he finished saying in his mind.

The drive seemed to be taking forever. Charlotte was tired of listening to talk radio, and she had played every CD she had, which admittedly wasn’t many. Yet she still had a while to go.

She already missed Vanessa. They’d never lived apart except for Charlotte’s time at the College of Charleston. Now that they were both adults, Vanessa had become her best friend. They’d been through it all together and no one understood her like her sister did.

Which is why it was so hard to not be completely honest with her about why she left Nashville. But being secretive was for the best. Telling Vanessa what was really going on would have added unnecessary complications to her life. Or at minimum caused her stress that she didn’t need. Vanessa was just starting her life. She had so much to look forward to and Charlotte didn’t want to mess that up.

So she’d gotten in her car, and without looking back, she drove away.

********

She’d finally arrived in Charleston around dinner time, slowly driving down King Street and allowing nostalgia to fill the interior of her Passat. She watched young girls in Herve Leger dresses, teetering in heels on the sidewalks, laughing drunkenly as they hopped from bar to bar. The energy in the air was palpable; as always, Charleston was its best self at night.

She thought about turning around and driving down Meeting and past Declan’s house, but she reconsidered. It was better to leave it be. She wasn’t here to dig up the past. She just needed a familiar place to hide for a while.

Charlotte drove up East Bay and the memory of her first meeting with Declan hit her as she pulled onto the Ravenel Bridge to go toward Sullivan’s Island, where she was renting a small cottage for the next month. She would never forget how he’d looked at her as they took that first fateful walk. His kind eyes, his handsome features, his beautiful, chiseled body. There had been no choice for her when it came to him.

There never would be.

********

By the time she reached the house, it was starting to get dark. When she stepped out of her car she could hear the sound of the Atlantic lapping against the shore. It was her favorite sound in the world, one she hadn’t heard in too long, and she couldn’t help but feel at ease. She was home.

She’d rented the cottage for a month, but she suspected she may stay longer. She had enough savings to stay a while, something that was so different from the last time she’d been in Charleston. She’d been a broke college student then, living on ramen and a prayer.

But she’d come so far in the last ten years. She was an obstetrician, one of the most respected in the Nashville area. When she’d decided to take this sabbatical, her entire practice had been in shock. It was sudden and with little notice. That wasn’t like the Dr. Sanders they knew.

But then again, they didn’t know the whole story. No one did.

Anyway, she couldn’t think of that for now, it would get her far too upset, and she was determined to make her time here a happy one. This was the last place she’d known the definition of that word, and she was desperate to know what it was like again.

That evening, after unpacking, she’d taken a glass of wine and sat on an Adirondack chair out on the porch that faced the beach. Driving all day had exhausted her and the wine exacerbated the fatigue. She knew she’d sleep well tonight.

She noticed the house next to her had a moving POD in the driveway. It was a large mansion that dwarfed her cottage, and it appeared to have recently been bought. The For Sale sign in the front had a large SOLD sticker emblazoned across the front of it.

Well, whoever they are
, Charlotte thought to herself as she finished her glass,
I hope they’re not assholes. Maybe I can even make some friends.

And with that she went back inside.

Declan hadn’t even toured the house before buying it. No need. He knew it was the best Sullivan’s Island had to offer, and his realtor had assured him it would meet all his needs.

Besides, Declan didn’t know how long he would even live there. But it was beach front, with a pool, two hot tubs, a sauna, and a full basketball court on the grounds. Not that he played much anymore, but just knowing things were available to him was the best thing about being wealthy. So until he knew more about his father’s prognosis, it would definitely be sufficient.

And it wasn’t that Declan had ever known anything other than wealth, but being a billionaire was a completely new level of rich. His family had actually been on the brink of bankruptcy (a family secret that almost no one knew about in Charleston, though there had been whispers) when Declan sold his start-up, and fortunately the DeGraff name was saved. Not that his father showed appreciation for any of it, but such was Henry DeGraff’s way.

But now Declan was finally here to see the mansion he’d bought. His realtor, an older woman named Bree Lakes who had her face plastered over dozens of billboards around the Lowcountry, was meeting him at 9:00 am to hand over the keys and close on the contract.

He’d driven up early, wanting to get away from the yacht. It was starting to smell stale, like a drunk lived on it, which was half true. When he pulled his Range Rover into the driveway he noticed the cottage next door had a Volkswagen Passat parked in front of it. He hadn’t realized he’d have a neighbor so close to him. Not that it mattered, just something he hadn’t thought about. He liked to be more secluded from things. Besides, the tiny cottage was dwarfed by the pillars and turrets of his southern castle by the sea. An odd dichotomy.

“Declan DeGraff, as I live and breathe!” Bree Lakes’ shrill voice called to him from across his expansive front yard. He’d thought for sure he would arrive before Bree, but she was taking down the For Sale sign and putting it into the back of her Porsche Cayenne.

“Hey, Bree,” he said, waving to her. “Good to see you.”

“Well, it’s been… I don’t even know how long! Since before your momma… Well, it’s been a long while,” she said, smiling at him. “How’s your daddy? Tell him I said hello!”

“I sure will,” Declan said. “How’s Rafe?”

Rafe Lakes was Declan’s age. They’d gone to Bishop Francis together, the Jesuit all boys’ high school to which Charleston sent its finest sons. Rafe was known to be a jackass, but Declan always thought he was kind of funny.

“He’s great, he and his wife are expecting their first baby in the next few months,” Bree said. “They won’t tell me the sex, which drives me crazy. I don’t know whether to buy pink or blue or how to monogram any of it! You kids love to keep your secrets!”

Declan chuckled awkwardly, praying this small talk hell could be over soon.

“Well congrats,” Declan said. There was an awkward pause.

“So we should probably sign the papers!” Bree exclaimed. “You buying in cash makes it all so easy for me! And how blessed you are to be able to do that. You’ve really made something of yourself.” Bree leaned in and whispered, “Your momma would be
so
proud, Declan.
So
proud.”

He stiffened at the mention of his mother.

“Yes, well,” he said. “Let’s get those papers signed.”

Charlotte woke up late the next morning. It was a strange feeling to wake up on her own without the aid of an alarm clock. She could definitely get used to this.

She hadn’t been to the store yet, so there wasn’t much to eat in the kitchen. She’d left the open bottle of wine on the counter overnight and she cursed herself for being so lazy.

Why do I care?
She thought.
It’s just me here now. I can leave anything I want out, when I want.

Outside, the sky was cloudless and Carolina blue. It was warm, but not too warm, and a breeze whipped by her as she stepped onto the porch to take in what looked like a perfect day.

Next door at the mansion she saw an older woman with platinum blonde hair shut the front door and strut over to a Porsche SUV, a cell phone to her ear.

“I guess that’s my new neighbor,” Charlotte said to herself. “Maybe I’ll go by later and introduce myself. When she comes back from wherever she’s heading.”

She watched the woman drive away and then faced the ocean again.

It was nice to be back. She’d thought it would be harder, that the memories of Declan and their summer together would still haunt her. But she’d found that happened no matter where she lived. And being here was so comforting in a way. It represented a beautiful time in her life, even if it ended badly. She could still appreciate what it had been, and being that she needed an escape, this was the perfect place to find it. For now.

It also helped that she knew Declan DeGraff was nowhere near this place anymore. No chance of running into him and her past.

She smiled. It was time to lay out, get some much needed Vitamin D. She headed back in to look for her new two-piece swimsuit and a People magazine.

Charlotte had moved into the DeGraff carriage house a week after meeting Declan on the bridge. Allyn Legare seemed almost miffed that Charlotte had been able to find a place so fast.

“How did you manage it?” Allyn said as Charlotte boxed up some books. “I mean; I really didn’t give you like, any notice.”

“You sure as hell didn’t,” Charlotte said as she taped the box closed. “But it’s for the best. No roommates at this place I’m heading.”

Allyn guffawed, “How the hell are you affording that? Unless you’re like, living in North Charleston or something.”

“Nope,” Charlotte said, looking up at Allyn. “I’m living in a carriage house on Meeting.”

“South of Broad?” Allyn said. “How is that even possible? Who do you know there?”

“Declan DeGraff told me about it,” she said, not expecting Allyn to know who he was.

“Declan
DeGraff
?” Allyn practically yelled. “I didn’t know you knew him! He’s like… One of the richest guys in Charleston. And hottest. Since when do you know him? And does Saylor know about this?”

Charlotte looked at her, confused, “Who’s Saylor?”

“Saylor Embers. She’s in my sorority, she’s his girlfriend of like, forever,” Allyn said.

Charlotte had to admit that hearing Declan had a girlfriend pained her a bit, but she shrugged it off. She wasn’t looking for anything more than a place to live and he’d been kind enough to provide it. Besides, she wasn’t his type. Not if girls like Allyn were.

“Well, I don’t know anything about that. I don’t even know him that well, he said it was available for rent and I took him up on it,” Charlotte said. “So, everyone’s a winner.”

Allyn rolled her eyes, “Declan just offered you this place out of the kindness of his heart? I find that a little hard to believe.”

“Why?” Charlotte asked sharply. “Like I said, I met him, told him about how I was being unceremoniously booted from this place, and he told me about the carriage house. What do you care? I shouldn’t even be speaking to you after how you’ve treated me.”

Allyn’s mouth hung open unattractively. Charlotte had never been so assertive but now that they weren’t roommates anymore, it wasn’t like she had anything to lose.

“Well, I guess I was right. You never liked me,” Allyn said. “So I don’t feel bad about this. At all.”

“I know you don’t, Allyn,” Charlotte said, picking up the taped up box and heading out the door for the last time. “You never feel bad about anything.”

********

Declan thought Charlotte might change her mind about moving in. After he’d left her that day, he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind, and it had taken almost all of his composure not to text her constantly. Instead he’d kept it mostly professional and only texted her to confirm when and what time she’d be needing to move in. He’d offered to help her get her things, but she’d declined.

The afternoon she came over to move in was the first time he’d seen her since their walk from the bridge. She’d pulled up in a dusty Datsun, one that looked like it was about twenty years old. The back of it was filled with boxes and clothes on hangers. Everything was neatly organized.

When Charlotte stepped out of the driver’s seat his heart moved. She was even more beautiful today, her long hair falling around her shoulders in amber waves, her tan legs toned in a pair of khaki shorts. She was natural and perfect, and if this was any other time he would have laid on the heavy charm but he knew that kind of thing wouldn’t work with her.

She didn’t know who he was. He couldn’t lean on his name or his family’s reputation. In order to get someone like Charlotte to like him he’d have to hope that he, by himself, was good enough.

And looking at her right now, he felt like he fell very short.

“Hey,” she said, walking towards him. “I’m here.”

Declan nodded, “Yep. Glad to have you. Want me to get some of those boxes?” He nodded over at her car.

Charlotte shook her head, “No, I’ve got them. You’ve done enough.” She looked around her eyes wide. “You live here?”

Declan smiled, “Yep. Born and raised.”

“It’s the most beautiful home I’ve ever seen,” Charlotte said. “Are you sure it’s okay I’m moving in?”

“Charlotte, we never even use the carriage house. Well, sometimes I use it to escape my parents, but you staying here is completely okay. My parents are used to one of my friends being here. They don’t mind.”

“So they know you’ve rented out the carriage house to someone you met crying on the Ravenel and who you’ve barely known a week? I mean, I could be a runaway fugitive, and a serial killer for all you know.” Charlotte winked at him. “You could be aiding and abetting.”

Declan laughed, “Are you pre-law?”

“Nope. Pre-med. I don’t want to kill people. I want to help them.”

They stared at one another awkwardly for a moment, not sure what to say when a voice pierced through the sexual tension between them.

“Declan!” a girl called to him from next to Charlotte’s car. “Ew, who’s car is this? Your gardener’s? Doesn’t your momma make them park on the street usually?”

“What the fuck?” Declan muttered. “Sorry, Charlotte. It’s Saylor… She’s my…”

“Girlfriend?” Charlotte finished. “It’s okay, I’ll start unpacking the gardener’s car I guess.”

Saylor Embers stood in the driveway in a tiny pair of high-waisted shorts and a tank top. She was a stunning brunette bombshell, with the longest legs Charlotte had ever seen on someone not on a runway.

Of course this would be his girlfriend
, Charlotte thought.

“Who are you?” asked Saylor. “Declan, what is this about?”

“Saylor, not that it’s any of your business but this is Charlotte Sanders,” Declan said. “She’s renting the carriage house this summer.”

“Is she?” Saylor said, looking Charlotte up and down. “Is your momma doing some kind of charity or adult foster care program?”

Charlotte sighed and looked over at Declan.

“I’m going in,” she said, walking away.

Declan glared at Saylor, “What the hell is wrong with you? And what are you doing here? When someone doesn’t answer your texts, take it as a hint, Saylor. I’m busy.”

“Looks like you’re definitely busy,” Saylor remarked. “Having a little ghetto fling for the summer. Thinking I’ll still be around after you’ve had your fun.”

“Trust me, Saylor. I’m not interested anymore. And this shit is why. You can be such a bitch,” Declan said, walking back toward the house. “Go fuck with some other guy that’s willing to put up with your shit. Because I’m not him anymore.”

He walked away, leaving Saylor Embers alone in his parents’ crushed oyster shell driveway. For good.

********

Charlotte and Declan formed an unlikely friendship in the following weeks. Neither were in any classes for the summer so they fell into a routine of sorts.

Charlotte had picked up more shifts at Dixie Garden. She’d work the lunch crowd and come home in the afternoon. On the weekends she worked nights and Declan would try to be around when she got back and they would sometimes watch a movie or just sit around on the porch, talking about things. Nothing heavy, just the kind of conversations you have with someone you’re trying to get to know.

They’d argue about movies, television, sometimes politics. Declan always leaned a little more to the right of things, while Charlotte was more progressive. It never got too heated and Declan liked the challenge Charlotte brought to the table. She had thoughts and opinions she could back up, and she wasn’t afraid to share them and never was one to pretend to agree with him. If anything, she enjoyed when they disagreed, which was often.

Anna DeGraff had taken notice of her son’s new friend.

“When are you going to introduce me to our new tenant?” she asked him over breakfast one morning. “You sure spend a lot of time over there these days.”

“Charlotte works a lot,” he said, taking a bite out of his eggs benedict. Declan wasn’t sure why he was hesitant to introduce Charlotte to his mother. Something stopped him each time.

“Well, have her over for dinner sometime soon,” Anna said, sipping her coffee.

“Sure,” Declan said. “I’ll do that.”

********

One day, three weeks after Charlotte moved in, Declan found her sitting on the porch with the same look on her face she’d had the day on the bridge.

He’d sauntered over to see if she wanted to go out to dinner with him that night. It was the closest he’d come to actually asking her out on a date. But instead he’d found her sitting on an Adirondack chair, her legs tucked under her, clearly having been crying.

“Charlotte?” he knelt down next to her. “What’s wrong?”

Charlotte shook her head, “Nothing. It’s too much to get into.”

“Well, it’s clearly not ‘nothing’,” he said, touching her arm. She jerked her head up at his touch. It had surprised her, but he mistook it as her wanting him to pull away, so he did.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m here, though. We’re friends. You can tell me. Is there something I can do?”

The concern on his face about broke her heart. He was so kind to her, not like she’d suspected he’d be at all, and his compassion made her burst into tears.

“I’m just,” she sobbed. “Today is my mom’s birthday.”

Declan had to fight the urge not to wrap his arms around her. Instead he let her cry and was quiet. He listened.

“My mom would have been fifty-years-old today,” she continued. “And I miss her so much. It’s been almost six years since she died and I still can’t stop wishing she was here. I think about her every day and lately it’s been so hard.” She looked at Declan. “Sorry, this is too much to put on you.”

Declan pulled up the empty chair next to her and sat in it, his knees touching hers and he bent his tall body forward to look at her eye to eye.

“Tell me about her,” he said. “Tell me what she was like. What are the things you miss the most?”

Charlotte looked at him for a long moment. They’d never been this close together and part of her wanted to kiss him so badly for even asking about her mom.

“I miss her voice,” Charlotte said. “She liked to sing show tunes while she cleaned. Especially from
A Chorus Line
. It was her favorite musical. She’d be running the vacuum upstairs and I would still hear her. Dad pretended it drove him crazy, but he would always smile.” She laughed. “She was a terrible singer. I mean, really awful. But what she lacked in talent she made up for in enthusiasm.”

Charlotte sighed, “I sometimes wonder if I’ll forget what she sounded like. I used to have a voicemail from her saved on my phone, but my dad switched carriers and it somehow got deleted. It really crushed me. Having that silly little message kept her alive for me in a way.”

Declan couldn’t help it; he took her hand.

“What happened?” he asked. “Unless you don’t want to…”

Charlotte shook her head, “No, it’s okay. I can tell you. You’re being so kind. She was killed in a car accident. Out on Folly Beach. I was thirteen.”

Declan squeezed her hand, “I’m so sorry. Were you on vacation?”

Charlotte nodded, “Yep. We always came here in the summer. She went to the store, asked me to come with her. If I had agreed to go, she’d probably have missed that stoplight. The person who hit her would have hit someone else. Or just sped on through. My mom would still be alive.” Charlotte’s shoulders shook with her sobbing. “All because I was an asshole teenager who didn’t feel like going with my mom to the store.”

Declan pulled her to him, “No. It’s not your fault. Did they find the person who hit her?”

“No,” Charlotte said. “That’s the worst part. It’s what haunts me to this day. No one ever had to pay for my mom dying. They didn’t even stop to see if she was okay. How could someone do that?”

Declan didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever heard.”

Charlotte wiped her tears and stared into Declan’s eyes.

“It’s pretty terrible,” Charlotte said. “Her birthday is one of the hardest times for me. Especially this one. I sometimes wonder if I did the right thing moving here.”

They were inches from one another now. He could have leaned in and kissed her; kissed away her pain, her grief. He would have, if she’d only given him the slightest hint it’s what she wanted.

But she didn’t. She pulled away instead.

“Thank you for listening to me,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry to get all emotional on you. I’m sure you have big plans tonight.”

Declan smiled, “Nope. No plans. Unless you feel like joining me for dinner. Maybe a birthday celebration. For your mom.”

Charlotte looked up at him, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Fifty is a big one. What was her favorite kind of food?”

“She loved Mexican,” Charlotte grinned. “Fajitas. Chips with salsa and guacamole. The kind they make right at the table.”