Beach House Reunion (Beach House #5)(41)

Cara ran her fingers through her short hair. Looking down, she said by way of confession, “I have met someone I find attractive.”

Linnea was surprised by this. Cara could be so discreet. “Who?”

She lifted her gaze. “David Wyatt.”

“Heather’s father?”

Cara made a face. “That makes it awkward, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all. It’s just a coincidence. So . . . what’s he like?”

“The first word that jumps to mind is kind.”

“I’m sold.”

Cara laughed again and shook her head. “I don’t know why we’re even talking about this. I can’t imagine dating anyone again. It feels like a betrayal to Brett. It’s too soon.”

“It’s been three years, Cara.” Then it hit her. “You mean you haven’t dated anyone else yet? Not in Chattanooga?”

Cara shook her head. “Not that I wasn’t asked. But I had no interest.”

“Wow,” Linnea said. She couldn’t imagine a dry spell of three years. “I loved Brett like a second father, you know that. And you’ve always been a second mother to me. So this doesn’t come lightly. . . . Cara, I honestly feel Brett would want you to date again. He wouldn’t want you to waste away, pining for him. You’re too vibrant. Too beautiful. Cara, you deserve another chance at love.”

Cara didn’t respond, but she looked at Linnea with a new vulnerability. Linnea felt she was truly listening, as though the tables had turned and now Linnea was the one dispensing advice. For the first time, it felt to her that instead of a mother-daughter relationship, they’d morphed into two women friends.

Cara poured herself another glass of wine, then took a sip. Linnea could see she was already composing herself, reining in her emotions. There would be no tears.

“You can wear one of those new dresses to Emmi’s party,” she said.

“What party?”

“This weekend at her house. A barbecue.”

“There’s another party at the Social Club?”

Cara laughed at Linnea’s nickname for Emmi’s house. “Her son is visiting from California. Well, actually it’s more than visiting. He’s moving in temporarily. Emmi is thrilled and wants us all to meet him.”

“Doesn’t Emmi have two sons?”

“That’s right. James and John.”

“Not very creative with names, was she?” Linnea joked.

“It was something to do with the apostles,” Cara replied, then waved that topic off. “James is married, goodness, four years now. He’s the eldest. Emmi’s very proud of him, and with good reason. He graduated from Duke Medical School and practices somewhere near there. I can’t remember his wife’s name, but they already have a son. I think he’s two already.”

“James is the perfect son,” Linnea quipped.

“So it seems.”

“And what’s the one who’s going to be at dinner like?” Linnea asked with idle curiosity.

“John is the younger son. He’s not an academic. More of a maverick.”

“?‘Maverick’ as in an unreliable eccentric? Or unconventional?”

Cara chuckled. “The latter. John’s just more laid-back than his brother. When James was in the library, John was out surfing. Emmi tells me John is super smart, but not conventional smart. More entrepreneurial. I remember when Emmi used to complain that the teachers said John didn’t live up to his potential in school.”

“That’s what the teachers always say about Cooper. They’re trying not to say he’s lazy.”

“In John’s case, I suspect he was bored. His report cards were so-so, but he aced his SATs. Near-perfect score. He went to Stanford.”

Linnea set down her glass, impressed. She’d earned all As in high school, but her SAT scores were only average. The tests were the great equalizer.

“That’s impressive. Stanford . . . So what does he do now?”

“He’s into computers. He went to California for college and never came back. I think he lives in San Francisco now. Or did.”

“If he was doing so well, what’s he doing back here?”

“I don’t know. Emmi loves to toot the horn about her sons’ successes. Which is only natural,” she hurried to add. “But she can be very hush-mouthed about any problems. Since I haven’t heard, I’m guessing it’s not good. But,” she said on an upbeat note, “Emmi’s thrilled to have her baby back home and wants to call the clan together.”

“I’m hardly the clan.” Linnea picked up her glass. “I don’t think I’ve ever met him.”

“Yes, you have. At that Fourth of July party Lovie held that last summer. We decorated the house with fairy lights, there were mountains of food, and Flo’s mother Miranda went wandering the beach.”

“Oh, yes,” Linnea said, a smile flitting across her face at the recollection of that very special night. “A turtle nest hatched that night. The first I’d ever seen.”

“That’s right.”

“But I don’t remember Emmi’s sons. Cara, I was only, what? Eight years old?”

“Was it that long ago?” Cara asked with a sad shake of her head. A wistful, then sorrowful expression crossed her face. “That was a wonderful night,” she said softly. “I can’t blame you for not remembering. The boys were teenagers with better plans for the Fourth than to come to their mother’s friend’s party. Emmi must’ve twisted their arms. They obliged, stuffed a few burgers in their mouths, and split. But, Linnea, surely you’ve seen them come and go from Emmi’s over the years?”