Beach House Reunion (Beach House #5)(80)

Palmer softened. “I don’t want to be like him. But I just don’t know what to do about it. The business is a mess. I admit it. There doesn’t seem to be a way out for me.”

She heard the desperation in his voice. “There is,” she said urgently. “Palmer, I’m not here for an intervention. Let’s just say I’m here for a conversation. The first of many, okay?”

“Okay.”

She took a breath. “You have to break this destructive pattern. Daddy started it with you, and now you’re continuing it with Cooper. If you don’t stop it, Cooper will continue with his son.”

Palmer looked at her, stone-faced. “What pattern is that?”

“First, you have to stop drinking. We’ll stand behind you. And second, take the burden of all this”—she gestured to the house—“off the shoulders of your son. Don’t do to him what Daddy did to you.”

“What?” Palmer looked at her with confusion in his eyes.

“The whole Rutledge male beating-of-the-chest thing. It’s positively tribal. Cooper doesn’t want to go to the Citadel,” Cara told him. “He doesn’t want to work in the family firm. Don’t force him to feel responsible for all this.”

“I’m not forcing Cooper to do anything! As a matter of fact, he’s off picking up his uniform now. Tomorrow he enters the Citadel. Becomes a knob. He’s right excited about it too. His mother and I are taking him out to dinner. A kind of farewell celebration.”

Her eyes captured his. “Are you so sure he’s excited? Or is it panic you see in his eyes?”

Palmer frowned, and his eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t go too far, sister. He’s my son.”

“That’s my point.” Cara rose and leaned forward on the table, closer to her brother. Her voice was low and firm. “You forget—I was there when you went off to the Citadel. You smiled for Daddy, put on the good show.” She tapped the table hard with each syllable. “But I know how you felt inside.”

She straightened and took a breath, hoping she could convince her brother. “That’s how Cooper feels. He’s trying to do the right thing, Palmer. He’s trying to do what you want him to do. To make you proud. And it’s killing him.” She straightened, collecting her calm. “He’s drinking too much. We’re worried about drugs.” She saw with frustration that Palmer waved his hand in denial and leaned back in his chair. She pressed on. “And he’s going out to the hunting lodge on weekends. I know what happens out there all too well. As do you.”

Palmer remained silent, but his gaze burned back into hers with fury.

“I’m not here to badger you. I’m here to ask you, to beg you, to break the cycle. To stop drinking and consider what kind of an example you’re setting for your children.”

Palmer rose slowly and leaned forward on the table. “What kind of an example did our father set for us?”

Cara didn’t budge. “Exactly.”

Palmer lifted his chin and crossed his arms tightly against his chest. When he spoke, his voice rumbled from his chest.

“Go back to your beach house, baby sister,” he said with a tight smile. “Where you belong. We’re all just fine here.”

Cara smiled back at him with genuine affection, but her voice rang with firmness. “You’re not getting rid of me so easily, brother mine. I’m on your side, whether you choose to believe me or not. I’ll go. But I’ll be back. Again and again. Because I love you.”



DAVID CAME WHEN she called. Cara walked along the crooked walkways and cobblestone alleys of Charleston to burn off some of the excess frustration bubbling in her veins. August might not have been the hottest month, but it was the most humid. She was moist by the time she arrived at The Chophouse. Harold greeted her warmly and secured a table for her in the bar. The jazz piano player had just started playing.

She just had time to sit and sip some water before she saw David enter. He was not an easy man to miss. She waved, and his face lit up at seeing her.

When he came to the table, he bent to lightly kiss her cheek in welcome. The move surprised Cara, in a good way.

“I’m so grateful you could meet me,” she said.

“Of course. It was fortunate I was already in the city.”

A waitress came quickly for their order.

“A Campari and soda,” she said, looking forward to the bubbles on this hot day.

“Bourbon. On the rocks. So,” David said as the waitress left, folding his hands on the table. “What’s up?”

“More family drama, I’m afraid.” She filled him in on her discussion with Linnea, then followed up with her visit with Palmer.

Their drinks came. They each tasted theirs and returned to the conversation.

“Palmer’s put you in a tough spot,” David said. “You see what has to be done, you’ve offered to help him, pointed out the damage he’s inflicting on his son, and he refuses to listen. So what can you do? Is that right?”

“In a nutshell, yes.”

“The answer is—nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“You have to let him fail. To hit the proverbial rock bottom. It’s tough love, but remember, you are not being cruel by doing this. It’s a last resort. Ultimately you’re helping him to help himself.”