Beach House Reunion (Beach House #5)(75)

Linnea thought of John and felt another notch of surety about him. “I know that feeling.”

“David is an extraordinary man. I’ve never met anyone quite like him. He’s just returned from London on business and brought me a sweet souvenir,” she added with a smile. “I’ll show you later. Anyway, while I listened to him talk about his business and how much he loves what he does, it was so strange—it was as if a different person was sitting across the table from me. Someone formidable. Someone I was suddenly very interested to know more about.”

“I know what you mean!” Linnea said, sitting upright. “The same thing happened to me. With John. We were having drinks and he was talking about his new project and I realized he wasn’t just some laid-off surfer dude. He has real depth . . . and I found that attractive.” She smiled seductively. “Very, very attractive.”

Cara laughed lightly. “I’ve always found intelligence to be an aphrodisiac.”

“Oh yeah? Is it a coincidence, then, that both the men you fell for were tall and handsome?”

“Strictly a coincidence.”

“Or luck.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it.” Cara laughed. “Truly. I like to think it’s fate.”

“Or good karma.”

Cara tilted her head. “I like that better. God knows I’ve paid my dues.”

Linnea watched Cara closely. So elegant and strong, yet behind the fa?ade she presented, Linnea had seen her broken, too. Brett’s death had done that. Frozen her heart for three years. She was happy and relieved to see the thaw.

“So, you’re ready for love after love?”

Cara’s face grew thoughtful. “It’s very strange to go from tears for Brett to smiles for David. I’ve had to accept that my divided heart is normal. Intellectually it all makes sense, of course. But emotionally . . .” Cara shook her head. “It’s very hard. Nothing makes much sense in the heart. I have to go with how I feel. My instincts have always been pretty good, and over the years I’ve learned to listen to them. If I don’t, I make errors and fall into regret.”

“So what does your gut tell you?”

“Not to be afraid,” Cara replied. “I’ve found someone who loves me, scarred heart and all. The love I have for David is different than the love I had for Brett. But I’m different, too. So, yes, I believe I am ready.”

“Oh, Cara, I’m so very, very happy to hear that.”

“Me too,” she replied. “And you? Are you ready? I can’t help but turn the tables and tell you I’ve watched you and John together. You seem to be a good fit.”

Linnea paused, feeling again the confusion that overtook her whenever she thought about her relationship with John.

“You might be ready for love, but I’m not. Not the happily-ever-after kind. I’m only twenty-two. I don’t even have a real job yet. I haven’t tested myself yet. Aunt Cara, I want to get married and have children someday. But one thing I learned this summer. As much as I adore Hope—and you know I do,” she asserted.

Cara smiled. “I know.”

“Being a nanny this summer showed me I’m not ready to settle down and be a mother yet. I’ve got things I want to do. Places I want to go. I don’t even want to get tied down to a serious relationship.”

“Then don’t.”

“You make that sound so easy.”

“I didn’t say it would be. I’m saying you have the choice. Linnea, you’re only young once. Take it from me, life speeds by, and if you don’t enjoy your freedom while you have it . . . Too soon you may make a commitment, have children, have a house and debt, all of which is wonderful on its own merit. But be ready for it. Go into it wholeheartedly. Then you’ll never live your life wondering about what could have been.” Cara leaned far over to take hold of the bottle of wine and poured herself a glass. “I’m talking too much.”

“No, you’re not,” Linnea said. “Please go on. You’re like a second mother to me. I’ve always admired you. How you up and left at eighteen and never looked back. I mean, you were only eighteen!”

Cara settled back on the sofa and brought her long, slim legs up to stretch out beside Linnea. It was an intimate move, one a mother might make with her daughter.

“Linnea,” Cara began, “don’t glamorize what was a sad situation.”

“I know—but be honest. It took courage.”

“I had to make a choice. My father drew his line in the sand, and I crossed it. Let’s just say he made it impossible for me to stay.”

“But you left Charleston,” Linnea persisted. “Went all the way to Chicago. Did you have money?”

“I had my savings. It wasn’t much. But it bought me a train ticket. I knew a girl from school who went to Northwestern, right outside of Chicago. It was one of the universities I’d applied to.” She snorted. “And gotten in.” She brushed a bit of lint from her dress. “I remember being so jealous that she could go to college and have an apartment, all paid for by supportive parents. While I . . .” She set her glass on the table and said without self-pity, “I looked for a job. I always loved school, you know. Learning. I still love walking through libraries and bookstores, just to let my fingers run along the spines of books.”