Sea Star Legacy Page 11

  “We will most certainly be seeing each other again,” he replied after a few moments. A confident grin graced his lips revealing his perfect white teeth. All at once, she felt all too aware of his over powering presence. Now she knew what a poor mackerel must feel like when he looks over his shoulder to find a great white shark a few feet behind him just bidding his time for dinner.

  “As a matter of fact, Sandra,” Luke began, closing the space she’d put between them, “after tonight, I don’t think we could miss running into one another.”

  “I don’t understand,” she told him wrinkling her forehead.

  “It means, I better get out of this storm.” Luke tipped his head to the side and gave Sandra a speculative look. “Thank you for the lovely evening,” he said with an exaggerated bow and strode off her porch.

  Was he making fun of her? she wondered as heat warmed her cheeks.

  Biting down on her lower lip, Sandra watched Luke slide into his truck and start the engine. He needed time to think, she reasoned, as did she. In truth, it hadn’t been Luke’s manners that had her upset, but her own unexplainable willingness to give herself to him coupled with his casual rejection of her. As if that weren’t enough, every time she got near him, she felt as though she were trapped in an electrical maelstrom with no escape.

  Sandra leaned against the door jam and watched the truck’s tail lights disappear into the night. She couldn’t quit shake the notion that a part of her had gone with him. Left standing in the darkness, she stepped back into the living room and methodically shut the door and flipped the dead bolt latches as if the mere action could lock out her feelings. There were too many things to think about to analyze them all tonight. They’d have to wait until the morning, she told herself as she fell into the large chair next to the sofa. Even though Luke left, he had feelings for her, she thought with a smile. He hadn’t said another word about purchasing the Sea Breeze since their argument. That could only mean two things. Either he was biding his time or he really was interested in her not the business. Supporting her head against the tufted chair back, she found herself appreciating the masculine furnishing of the room. The morning she’d arrived for the funeral, she had made a note to herself to get rid of all her father’s overstuffed, outdated furniture. At the time, she’d intended to replace it with a more stylish décor. Since then, she realized she’d become accustom to the comfortable furnishings despite their being so unlike anything she would have ever picked out. In fact, she liked living at the shop. It held the same allure as one stop mall shopping. She never had to cross town in traffic to go to work and she could easily get to all the comforts of home by simply walking upstairs.

  The Sea Breeze even took on a different character during the day than during the night. In the morning hours, the large picture windows that lined the far wall flooded the living area, as well as the kitchen with the sunlight reflected off the beach. It leant an air of cheerfulness. At night, the room felt cozy. A single pottery lamp sat on an oak end table providing the only illumination in the room. Staring at the design etched into the lamp, Sandra thought back to earlier in the evening. She was almost certain she hadn’t remembered to turn on the light before she left. But then, her mind hadn’t been functioning at capacity either, she reasoned. She’d even left without her beach bag. She probably turned the light on and simply forgot about it.

  Nestled into the chair, fatigue overwhelmed her. She’d have to get to bed or fall asleep in the chair. It had been a long day, she mused, coaching herself up out of the chair.

  Once upstairs, Sandra put on the first crumpled piece of lingerie she pulled from her suitcase. She’d been there a week and she still hadn’t made herself unpack. Worse yet, she still hadn’t gone through her father’s personal effects. Every time she pulled out a dresser drawer or opened a closet, a sense of guilt over invading his privacy hit her.

  Pulling the bed covers back, Sandra let out a heavy sigh. Soon, she would have to make herself go through her father’s things and dispose of them. She knew her reasons for avoiding the chore were pure silliness. Once she poured through his personal possessions, however, she might find things she didn’t want to, things that would open up wounds which had long ago been forgotten or at least ignored. And of course, there was Bernice to consider. She still hadn’t come after her own clothes. Sandra made a mental note to be sure to ask Ms. Miles exactly when she’d be by for her things. Then rolling over onto her side she realized, Bernice could be the solution to her problem. Perhaps if she approached the older woman in the right way, she’d be willing to help her sort through her father’s things. It would certainly make the job a lot more pleasant, as well as less time consuming. Besides, there were most likely several mementos around the place that Bernice would like to keep. It would be a small price to pay for her help and company.

  Sandra pushed her hair back from her face as she thought back on Bernice’s reaction to her staying on at the Sea Breeze. She’d have to approach her carefully. She really did want them to become friends. Bernice could be a valuable influence in the community. Plus, she probably knew some of the specifics behind Ben managing the Sea Breeze.

  As she tugged the covers up around her chin and closed her eyes, she heard the phone ring in the shop. It had to be a wrong number, she told herself. Not even her mother would be calling her at this hour, unless. . . The phone continued past the sixth ring. It could be an emergency, she thought, scurrying past her house slippers and down the stairs to the shop.

  She picked up the phone. “Hello,” she called half in desperation and out of breath through the receiver. The phone line went dead with a loud click. Placing the phone back into its wall holder a bit harder than necessary, she stared up at her father’s picture. “Probably a wrong number, Pops,” she said to the photograph though she wasn’t entirely certain that was the case. The last couple of days she’d been getting an amazing number of hang up calls from unlisted numbers. This was the first time, however, she’d received one at night.

  A flash of lightening lit up the dark shadows of the display room, startling Sandra. The hair on the back of her neck prickled with the feeling that someone was watching her. Reprimanding herself for letting her imagination get away from her, Sandra turned and flipped on the overhead lights. After a long series of flutters, the fluorescent bulbs reluctantly lit up even the corners of the shop, revealing an empty room.

  Staring into every empty corner, she convinced herself it was only her imagination. There was no one in the room but herself. Not taking her eyes off the shelving, her finger tips searched for the light switch behind the counter. It would be ridiculous to leave the lights on all night. She looked around for a small light to leave on. Reluctantly, her finger tips searched for the light switch behind the counter as she continued to scan the room for movement. Flipping the lights off, she waited for a few moments until her eyes became accustom to the dark. After several seconds and all seemed to be quiet, she took in a deep breath and stared down at her hands. They were shaking, she realized. There wouldn’t be anyway she could go straight back to bed and go to sleep. Perhaps a hot cup of tea, she thought, making her way towards the kitchen.

  Sandra opened the kitchen cabinet, reached in for a cup and the phone rang again. This time it was her private line in the living room. Looking down at her watch, she realized it was past eleven o’clock. Could it be the same phantom caller? She wondered, not knowing whether or not she wanted to answer it or not. Hesitantly, she moved across the room to the atrocity. Placing her hand on the telephone, it dawned on her that she didn’t even know if her father’s personal line was published in the phone book or if it was a non-listed number.

  “Hello.” The receiver remained silent. “Hello?” The line went dead with the now familiar click. A chill ran up her neck and her stomach tightened. Don’t let your imagination go wild, she told herself. It was probably just a teenager who was mad at his girlfriend and had the wrong number. That wouldn’t explain the call coming in o
n both her business and personal lines, though.

  It was past one in the morning before Sandra finally got herself to sleep. Even then, she slept poorly, awakening every few hours by what she thought was the phone. When she lay back silent in her bed, however, only the rush of the waves against the shore and wind sounded.

  * * *

  The front door bells jingled, announcing the arrival of the Sea Breeze’s first customer of the day. The shop technically wouldn’t be open for several weeks yet, but Sandra hadn’t locked the doors during business hours since she’d moved into the Sea Breeze. She wasn’t about to turn down a paying customer’s money when she had to be there working on the books anyway. Today, however, she almost wished she hadn’t remembered to unlock the door. After the nerve wracking prank calls the evening before combined with the meeting with her father’s attorney that morning, she simply didn’t feel like her usual outgoing self.

  Reluctant to give up her half full cup of coffee, Sandra took one last sip before tucking it out of sight behind the cash register. She usually could get up and into the day without a second cup of coffee, but not today.

  Walking around the counter, Sandra forced herself to smile at the balding gentleman ambling down the main isle. He returned her smile and began browsing through the store. It seemed that he wanted to be sure and take in the entire store before he made any single purchase. She wished she enjoyed going through all the miscellaneous gadgets, clamps and paraphernalia as much as this man appeared to. It would make her job of inventorying a lot easier.

  Sandra couldn’t fault the man. His steely appraisal combined with the gleam of enjoyment in his eyes reminded her of what she must look like in a book store. She never really went into a book store looking for a book. Rather, it was the low key sense of continuity that brought her there. The enduring quality of the printed page in a world of constant upheaval, never failed to act like a salve for Sandra. No matter what type of technological changes the world brought, children would still be reading about Huckleberry Finn’s antics, still enjoying Mother Goose.

  Sandra watched as the man made his last lap of the shop. Go greet him and see if he needs any help, she prodded herself. Usually she enjoyed visiting with people, but today the man’s easy going nature racked against her nerves. If only she had already hired someone to help out, she could be hiding in her office with her paper work and nursing her black java in private.

  It wasn’t simply a lack of sleep that had her out of sorts. Fatigue, she could handle. In college, she’d spent her share of all-nighters cramming for tests. Granted, it wasn’t her preferred way of doing things, but normally she functioned fine without the required eight hours of sleep.

  Perhaps her early meeting with her father’s lawyer had her on edge. When she’d signed the previous year’s tax return and handed over a check from her personal account for the owed monies, she’d felt a knot clench tighter than a fist in her stomach. The business was truly hers now. If it went bankrupt, if it prospered, it would be her responsibility. There would be no one to blame and no one to bail her out.

  A scowl pulled at the corners of her mouth. She should be elated, she told herself. For years she’d dreamed of owning her own business. That’s all she had wanted since she’d changed her major from pre-law to business administration. She still remembered her mother and stepfather’s reaction to her decision. Her mother had been stunned and disappointed. Her stepfather had been livid. It wasn’t his happiness she worried about, though or her mother’s for that matter. She had to consider what she wanted most in life, not what they wanted for her. Charles Daniel’s money and influence might have been able to buy her mother’s love, but it wouldn’t buy hers. She knew their motives all too well. Her mother only wanted her to become an attorney so she could brag at the club. Charles Daniels motives were even less altruistic. He would never admit it to her mother, though she knew for a fact all he wanted was to get her out of their house. When she’d come home from spring break her first year of college, he’d made it clear that he would foot her college education and see that she found herself a “good” job. In return, he expected her to move out and leave him and her mother alone. To his chagrin, her mother had insisted that Sandra live with them after college.

  The balding middle aged customer approached Sandra, breaking into her thoughts. From the man’s gaudy Hawaiian print shirt and his wide eyed expression, Sandra surmised he must be one of the few remaining tourists of the season. His pale arms were filled with an assortment of inexpensive items ranging from drinking cups to sunscreen. He’d definitely need the sunscreen, she thought wryly. It might be the end of September, but it would be another hot day with the sun beating down unmercifully on anyone left out of the shad by midday.

  “Will this be all?” Sandra asked, forcing an animated expression to her face.

  “I believe this will be all. That is unless you can tell me a good place to eat tonight in case I don’t bring back any fish to cook.” The man showed a broad toothed grin revealing crooked teeth. Whatever the man’s occupation, she’d venture he wasn’t a dentist.

  “I bet you’ll do fine on your fishing trip,” she assured him. “These waters are the best around for sports fishing. You’re just a couple of weeks late for Destin’s fishing derby. It brings in fishermen from all over the world, I hear.”

  “Sure hope you’re right, ma’am. I’ve chartered a boat out of Pensacola and I’ve my heart set on going home with a freezer full.”

  “Chartering a boat, you say?”

  “Yeah, from a man my brother recommended. His name is Caldwell. Do you know of him?”

  Sandra’s throat went dry as she searched for a reply. “Yes, I do.”

  “Hope we’re in good hands. Got the little woman with me and you know how some women are about fishing.” The man’s expression became serious and Sandra found herself envisioning a large woman in a shift made of the same Hawaiian print, seasick and complaining.

  “You’ll be in excellent hands, she assured him.

  The man studied Sandra’s face. “Really?”

  “Really.” A smile formed easily on her lips as she watched a childlike expression of trust spread across his face.

  “Why, I’ve been sailing with Mr. Caldwell myself and lived to talk about it,” she bragged. As she watched further relief fan over the tourist’s face. She felt her own smile broaden.

  “Did you catch many fish?” he asked with enthusiasm as she handed him back his change.

  “No. . . .” Sandra’s cheeks flushed. Why had she opened her mouth and mentioned that she even knew Luke, she thought. Now she had to explain her comment. “We sailed on a catamaran. We didn’t get a chance to . . . fish.”

  The man seemed to sense Sandra’s discomfort and swiftly picked up his sack of goods and moved to the door.

  “Have a good trip,” she called after him.

  The man twined his neck around, twisting his features into a tight lipped grin. “Thank ya. You have a good day yourself, little lady.”

  Sandra watched the man scurry out the door and wander down the sidewalk, dodging another customer in his path. So much for the hope of returning to her coffee while it was still hot. By the time she finished with yet another customer, it would be as cold as tap water. Oh well, that was what microwaves were for, she assured herself as the bell on the door chimed its greeting. Sandra looked up and the smile dropped from her face. Of all the people she didn’t want to deal with today, her father’s ex-mistress ranked foremost.

  “Bernice?” The name fell from her lips, sounding of cautious dismay. When the older woman didn’t immediately respond, Sandra rushed to fill the silence in the hope of covering up her obvious surprise to see her. “I was thinking about you this morning. I’ve been meaning to call you,” Sandra told her, trying to make her voice sound as sincere as possible. It was the truth, she reasoned. She had intended to call her and she did need to talk with her. However, having decided to put the inevitable off a few more days, she
hadn’t meant to do it today. She simply couldn’t gather up any enthusiasm for cleaning out her father’s possessions and Bernice’s absence made her procrastination easier. Not to mention the fact that the woman was most likely still upset with her from their last visit.

  “I meant to get by the other night,” Bernice stated as though that explained it all. When Sandra didn’t respond, she added. “It’s been awful busy. Why, I’ve had two cleaning girls up and quit on me in the last week. And, my cook has decided he’s in love.” Bernice laughed heartily and shook her head.

  Sandra smiled and absently nodded her encouragement for Bernice to continue her story. At least she didn’t expect her to contribute much to the conversation, she told herself. Though, she suspected, the woman was trying to lead up to telling her something. Whatever had brought her over to visit must be important. She’d thought at first Bernice had come over to apologize. On second thought, Bernice Miles didn’t strike Sandra as being the type that readily admitted to any personal failure. In that respect, she reminded Sandra of her mother. That was the only similarity she could think of, however. No one would ever have guessed the two women were involved with the same man. Apparently, her father hadn’t been as superficial as her mother always let on, Sandra pondered. From what her mother had insinuated, she’d fully expected her dad to have dated only young, thin, beach bunny types rather than the sensible woman with warm brown eyes he’d chosen.

  “Found a couple of retired ladies to replace the maids,” Sandra heard Bernice say. “However, I’m still havin’ to do a lot myself until they’re trained. Then there’s Ernie. He’s been burning everything from the toast to the roast. Had a fight with the girl of his dreams and now he’s not worth nothin’. That’s not why I came by this morning, though.”