Beach House Reunion (Beach House #5)(74)

She sat back, astonished at how little she really knew about this man. As he went on to explain details of his cameras, she realized the scope of his intelligence, and more, his influence. He transformed from a friendly retired lawyer into a successful international businessman right before her eyes.

“That reminds me,” he said, reaching down beside his chair to grab a bag she’d been curious about since she’d seen him carry it into the restaurant. “I have something for you. A little souvenir from London.”

“You shouldn’t have,” she said politely, envisioning a tin of tea or a box of sweets emblazoned with images of Big Ben. She took the large bag from him, noting that it came from Harrods, and spread open the tissue paper.

“It’s a Burberry bag!” she exclaimed, stunned.

“Do you like it?”

“Of course. It’s beautiful.”

He appeared pleased with her response. “I remembered you broke the handle of your tote bag at the park and thought this one could replace it.”

Cara looked at him, moved that he’d think of such a thoughtful gesture. “But, David, that was a little nothing bag I bought at Target. This is a Burberry tote.” She exhaled slowly. “I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can. You love it.”

“No, I can’t. You already do so much for me. You pick up my tab when we’re out, buy our tickets, drive us everywhere. That’s already a lot. But this . . .” She shook her head. “This is too much. I really can’t accept it.”

Cara gave one last loving look at the gorgeous Burberry tote and slid it back into the paper bag. She was about to reach for her glass, but David was faster, putting his hand over hers on the table.

“Cara, please accept the bag. I don’t mean to sound crass, but it’s really not that expensive for me. And the fact that you like it so much makes it worth every penny.” His gaze was penetrating. “Let me give you gifts or do little things for you. And can I say, it’s insulting to a man not to let him pick up your tab when we’re out together.”

“But a tab for ice cream is not this year’s hottest Burberry bag.”

“What’s the fun of having money if you can’t spend it on people you care about?” He looked down at their hands, then back at her. “I hope you know I care about you.”

She studied his dark eyes, illuminated by the flickering candle, and heard his words again in her mind.

David continued, his expression vulnerable, “I hope, too, that I’ve come to mean something to you.”

She was surprised by the strength of the emotions welling up inside her. She looked down at their joined hands. “You mean a great deal to me,” she told him. “More than I thought I’d feel again.” She turned her palm up and wrapped her long fingers around his wrist. “Thank you for the beautiful bag. And . . .” She raised her eyes to his. “Thank you for bringing me back to life again.”

She’d asked for a sign to make it clear she was ready to let go of her grief and find love again. To be loved again.

She’d never thought it would come in the form of a Burberry bag.



LINNEA HEARD THE front door open, the click of high heels on the wood, and the plunk of a purse on the foyer table. She smiled, hearing Cara hum as she walked into the living room.

“You’re glowing,” Linnea said. “And it’s not from the sun.”

Cara startled at seeing Linnea cozy on the sofa. Sade sang on the speakers, and on the cocktail table were two wineglasses and a bottle of red.

“Am I?” Cara asked, putting her long fingers to her cheek. “It’s probably the alcohol. Lord, I’m tipsy.”

“Uh-uh, that ain’t it,” Linnea said, then patted the sofa. “Join me? I have a nice bottle of Malbec.”

“Oh, no, I’ve had too much wine already. David ordered a wine pairing and it was heaven. But no more wine for me.”

“Glass of water then?” Linnea asked, rising from the sofa, her tan legs showing under the baby-doll pajamas.

“Perfect. Thank you.” Cara slipped out of her heels, pulled the pins from her hair, and ran her fingers through her mop of hair, giving her head a good scratching.

Linnea returned with a tall glass of water, glad to see Cara relaxing. The ice chinked in the glass as the two women sat on the sofa, each with her chosen drink in hand, and settled in the pillows.

“So, you had a nice dinner?” Linnea asked, raising her eyebrows.

“It was more than nice,” Cara said. “I feel like I’m still floating. It was . . .” She looked up as though searching for the right word. “Transformative.”

“That’s a pretty powerful word.”

Cara sighed. “I know.”

Linnea leaned forward. “Well, c’mon, what makes an evening transformative?”

“I don’t know if I can explain it.”

“Try.”

“Well . . .” Cara began. “The setting was perfect. Candlelight, heavy white linen, the scent of flowers, fabulous wine, and delicious food.”

“Enter handsome man, beautiful woman. Sounds like a Hallmark movie.”

“It was,” Cara said with a slight shrug. “We talked about anything and everything. We have this comfort between us, a lack of inhibition that allows us to tell each other things that we might choose not to tell anyone else. The kind that comes from trust.”