Carolina Girl (10 page)

“What, and get that kind of reception everywhere I go?
No, thank you. The jackass will haul your saddlebag. You do the talking.”

He really did look grumpy at his inability to intimidate
Stella, and Aurora had to stifle a laugh. Male egos were such fragile things.
She patted his sculpted biceps understandingly. “Maybe if you try using
sugar instead of lemon, you’ll fare better with the ladies.”

“Will sugar work with you?” He lifted a
skeptical eyebrow.

Hit with the intense focus of those dark-lashed gray eyes,
she almost succumbed to the desire fluttering in her belly.

Remembering her mission, she shook her head. “Nope,
and I don’t like lemonade either.”

She thought she might be lying to herself, but she started
down the street trailing Clay McCloud behind her anyway. Having a partner in
one of her crusades was a new and rather tantalizing experience. She’d
find out soon enough if he could be trusted.

Clutching the letter from Mandy’s school, Cissy
hobbled in the direction of the ringing telephone. She wanted to ball up the
letter and cry, but she’d quit the watering-pot business at seventeen,
when she’d had to grow up fast.

Mandy would be seventeen all too soon. She wanted her
daughter to have the opportunities she hadn’t had. She wanted Mandy to
have the whole world at her feet, like Aurora did. It would be worth everything
she’d sacrificed over the years if Mandy could rise above her
surroundings and make a difference in the world.

The letter in her hand would help Mandy accomplish that. All
she needed was five hundred dollars, and Mandy could spend her summer at the
university learning all those things her mother couldn’t teach her about
succeeding in college. There was no question in Cissy’s mind that her
daughter would qualify for any scholarship she wanted, but clothes and living
expenses would always be a problem. If she couldn’t come up with a lousy
five hundred dollars, how would she provide for all those other things Mandy
would need?

She might as well dream of five million dollars when she had
five dimes in her purse and no job.

Tripping over a chair leg and nearly falling, Cissy grabbed
the phone on the fourth ring. “Yes?”

“Sandra Jenkins?” a male voice inquired.

Except for her father, men didn’t call her, and this
wasn’t her father. “I’m not interested.” Annoyed that
she’d risked life and limb stumbling through the house for a sales call,
she started to hang up.

“Miss Jenkins, you’ll be interested in
this.”

Her hand slowed. Warily, she used her cane to boost her onto
the stool and returned the receiver to her ear. “Unless you’re
offering me a job, I’m still not interested.”

She couldn’t go back to her department-store position
yet—didn’t know if she ever could. Her hip ached, and it would be
weeks before she could move around fast enough to work properly. The doctors
weren’t making any promises. She could type, but no one wanted typists in
this day and age of computers. She didn’t have any talent she could sell
except painting her father’s statues, and that didn’t pay.
She’d be reduced to playing the lottery and praying if something
didn’t turn up soon.

“Better than a job, Miss Jenkins. My name is Ralph
Turner. I’m with Commercial Realty, and my firm is prepared to offer you
a considerable sum for your property,” said the voice over the telephone.

Cissy snorted. “Right. And all I have to do is tour
your condo on Hilton Head, right? I think you’ve got the wrong
number.”

“No, ma’am, I don’t. Our firm is
purchasing a few lots along your road to pave the way for a new development.
Records show you as the owner of one of the parcels. We’re prepared to
offer ten thousand an acre, and if you wish, you may take the house with
you.”

Cissy abruptly slid from the stool to search for a notepad.
Ten
thousand an acre
? She did a rough calculation. There were probably over
thirty acres, all told. Totally useless for farming. Good for a little duck
hunting back around the marsh but not much else. Ten thousand times thirty
acres—
three hundred thousand dollars. She’d have to split
it with Aurora, of course, but one hundred fifty thousand dollars...
That
was more money than she could bring home in a decade. She could pay for
Mandy’s education and have plenty leftover.

Ten thousand an acre was a totally outrageous price. She
might have dropped out of high school, but she wasn’t an idiot. She knew
what marshland sold for out here. They weren’t near the beach or the main
highway. She had neighbors all around her. Why her property? “Are you
offering everybody that?” she asked suspiciously.

“We need only the one lot in a central
location,” the voice answered smoothly. “Yours is ideal, but if
you’re not interested, we’ll call our second choice.”

“How much time do I have to decide?” She had to
ask Aurora. She and Aurora owned the land jointly, but Aurora didn’t want
to live here and wouldn’t mind selling. She didn’t know about their
father. He didn’t own the land, but he owned the building out back, where
he lived and made his monuments. They’d have to compensate him for it.

“We need a decision fairly quickly, Miss
Jenkins.”

She could keep her house. She could find a cheaper lot, move
it down the road….

“No, I’m sorry,” she answered abruptly,
surprising herself. “It won’t work. I can’t buy more land and
still afford to move my house for that kind of money. Thank you,
but—”

“You drive a hard bargain, Miss Jenkins. We own some
lots farther toward town. We can throw in one of those and use our equipment to
move your house as part of the deal. You’d be closer to schools and
shopping. The lot won’t be as large, but it will be solid ground.”

She would hate to leave her neighborhood, but Mandy
wouldn’t have so far to go to school. “I’d have to see the
lot,” she answered cautiously.

“Of course. We understand. Is there a good time for me
to drive you over there?”

Three hundred thousand dollars. Mandy’s education.
Maybe even her own. A future. A spike of hope caught her breath and brought
tears to her eyes. It had been a long, long time since she’d felt
anything like hope.

When it came to Mandy, she had no sentimentality whatsoever
for the land her mother’s family had owned for generations. She loved her
neighbors and loved the security of her familiar home, had never dreamed of
leaving as Aurora had, but she would sacrifice her life for Mandy.

Desperately, closing her eyes and crossing her fingers for
luck, Cissy prayed Aurora would agree.

“Around two?” she suggested.

o0o

“One of the neighbors brought over some boiled shrimp
last night. It just needs shelling. I can toss it with a little pasta and
pesto, and make a salad; it won’t take a minute.” Aurora pushed
open the trailer’s front door. A blast of cold air hit them as she led
Clay into the dim interior. Cissy must have turned on the air-conditioning.
Cissy didn’t like to waste money on utilities. Was she not feeling well?

Concerned, Aurora switched on the overhead lamp to brighten
the big front room, but she didn’t see her sister napping on the couch as
she usually did when her hip pained her. “Ciss?” she called.
“Mandy? Anyone here?”

It was after four. Mandy ought to be home from school. Cissy
didn’t have a car and hadn’t told her of any plans for going out
with friends today.

“Maybe they’re out in the shop?” Clay
suggested, dropping her heavy purse on the coffee table. “Listen, I
really ought to be going anyway. You don’t have to feed me.”

Impatiently she ignored his insincere suggestion. He’d
followed her around all day, braving the heat and stares and annoying questions
with formidable patience. She didn’t know any man who would have
withstood the endless barrage of talk for more than a few minutes, much less
all day. He’d impressed her with his tenacity.

He’d even learned part of her spiel by day’s end
and had persuaded the owner of the Monkey to set out a petition. For someone as
nontalkative as Clay, that was an even more impressive feat. She didn’t
know whether it was libido or ego that prompted him, or if he really was that
concerned about the turtles, but the least she could do was feed him. Their
lunch had consisted of inhaling the odor of grease on Cleo’s hamburger.

She crossed the green carpet to the galley kitchen and read
the whiteboard hanging on the refrigerator door.
Back soon
was scrawled
there in Cissy’s handwriting.
Out back
followed in Mandy’s.
Someone had taped a losing lottery ticket to the bottom of the board—a
running joke for their gambling tax deduction.

“A friend must have picked her up.” Aurora
opened the refrigerator and hauled out the bowl of shrimp, dropping it on the
counter. “If you’ll start on these, I’ll start the water
boiling for pasta and mix the salad.”

At his silence, she glanced up. Clay prodded a boiled shrimp
as if it were some new form of computer hardware and he couldn’t find the
switch.

“You do know how to prepare shrimp, don’t
you?”

“If they come out of a freezer, I eat them.” He
picked one up by the tail and examined it closely. “They have legs this
way.”

Laughing, she snatched it away. “You start water.
I’ll do shrimp.”

“If it had an engine, I could make it work,” he
offered helpfully, maneuvering around the counter into the galley and helping
himself to a pan hanging over the stove.

A man standing in her tiny kitchen captured her attention.
His head brushed the pots she’d hung over the counter, and his shoulders
blocked all view of the cabinet behind him. Even her father avoided her
woman’s domain. Mesmerized, she watched him study the size of the pan and
the amount of water filling it as if it was an interesting science experiment.
She had to take a deep gulp of air to drag her gaze back to the shrimp.

A car crunching the gravel drive distracted her. She
didn’t know what Cissy’s reaction would be to having a male
stranger in the house. Living together like this, they’d developed a few
unspoken rules. Not bringing men into the house was one of them. She’d
like to speak to Cissy first, before Clay’s presence caught her by surprise.
Crossing the room, she pulled back the sheer draperies over the picture window.

A distinguished silver-haired man assisted Cissy from a
shiny white Cadillac. They appeared to be in earnest discussion, so she
didn’t want to intrude, but she watched with concern. Cissy had quit
dating years ago. Potential employers did not drive potential employees to and
from an interview. Who could the man be?

She felt Clay watching over her shoulder.
“Salesman,” he declared with a touch of cynicism. “Do you
need a vacuum cleaner?”

She chuckled in agreement. “Maybe Cissy decided to
test-drive a Cadillac.” Her sister looked more animated than she’d
been in years. Fighting back anxiety, she tried to be happy for her. Cissy
didn’t have a lot to be excited about these days. Maybe she’d won the
lottery. That would account for wasting air conditioning on an empty house.

“I’ll talk her out of it. Cadillacs are all
looks and no go.” Clay opened the front door and stepped outside to
assist Cissy up the stairs.

“Did they talk to you, too?” she asked excitedly
as Clay handed her through the doorway. “What do you think? Are they
legit?”

Behind Cissy, Clay shook his head and shrugged. He’d
pulled on a T-shirt he’d retrieved from his motorcycle bag earlier, but
he still looked more biker than computer wizard. Aurora caught a wary
expression in his eyes before he turned to aid Cissy in taking a seat on the
couch.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,
Ciss. Explain. I’m fixing shrimp. Want some?” Food first, to settle
the anxiety gnawing at her middle. She didn’t attempt to discern which
anxiety unsettled her the most. She’d just let time and a full stomach
take care of them.

Mandy slammed in through the back door before her mother
could say a word. “Who was that in the Caddy?”

Clay looked as if he’d like to bolt. Standing uneasily
in the low-ceilinged trailer, his broad shoulders filling the empty spaces
between the women, he didn’t fit in here. But they were used to their
father and worked around him. Aurora shoved a pot in his hands and pointed at
the sink. Obediently, he filled it with more water.

“That was Mr. Turner from Commercial Realty.”
Excitement spilled out with Cissy’s words, and her eyes danced with it.
“He just showed me a wonderful lot down on Obadiah Lane. It’s in a
real nice development. The neighbors drive SUVs and have sailboats!”

Rory shoved half the bowl of shrimp at her niece. There
wasn’t much point in attempting to figure out what Cissy was talking
about until she came to the point. “You’re planning on
moving?”

“That’s just it! They’ll move us. I
don’t know about Daddy’s business though.” A look of worry
crossed Cissy’s pale features, but she dismissed the passing thought in
favor of another. Sheer happiness lit her from within. “They’re offering
us ten thousand an acre, Rora.
Ten thousand
! We couldn’t get that
kind of money anywhere.”

Very gently Aurora set her bowl down. Her gaze flew to Clay,
who had stopped running water to listen. She saw the same concern in his eyes
that she knew was in hers. Clay possessed a skeptical outlook. She preferred to
be optimistic, but what were the chances that bolts of fortune really did
strike out of the blue—without frying their targets?

“Who’s offering that kind of money?” she
asked. “And why?”

“I assume Commercial Realty,” Cissy said with a
shrug. “They want to build something here. They said they’d go to
one of the neighbors if we didn’t accept the offer, so why
shouldn’t we be the ones to take it?”