Heart of Stone

Chapter Three

I t had been nearly a week.

Tara stood at the window of her bedroom, looking out over the swimming pool and trees in her lush backyard. It was beautiful, and Chad had been very proud of it, but Tara didn’t see the shimmering water of the pool or the tropical foliage that she’d paid a landscaper to plant in her yard.

She only saw red. Because of Stone Dempsey.

He’d said he’d be in touch, but in the four days since she’d met with him, she hadn’t heard a word from the man. Even his trusted associate, Griffin Smith, wouldn’t return her calls. And she’d called several times. If Stone really wanted to win her respect, he could at least return her phone calls.

But then, maybe he had decided she didn’t merit any respect after all. “I guess I blew it,” she said aloud, her hands going to her aching head.

“Blew what?” Laurel came sauntering into the room, the sullen look on her face indicating that her mother had messed up on several things.

Surprised by this unexpected visit, Tara smiled. “Nothing for you to worry about, honey.”

Laurel plopped down on a gold brocade chaise longue set before the sliding door leading out to the pool.

“What’s up with you?” Tara asked, cautious to not sound too eager.

“I want to go to a concert in Savannah tomorrow night. All my friends are going. Will you take me?”

“What kind of concert?” Tara asked, the price of the ticket already adding up in her brain. The ticket, a new outfit, food. The sum kept silently increasing.

Laurel twisted the strands of a tiny braid she’d worn on one side of her temple all summer, while the rest of her long hair hung down her back. “It’s a new alternative rock band. They’re awesome. Can I go, please?”

Tara ignored the pain pounding in her head. “What’s the name of this awesome new band?”

“The Grass Snakes,” Laurel said, hopping up, her hands in the air. “Their latest single—‘Out to Get You, Girl’—it’s number one this week. I’ll just die if I can’t go, Mom.”

Already, Tara didn’t like the tone of this conversation. “And what is the rating on their latest CD?”

Laurel rolled her eyes, her heavily ringed fingers still threading through her braid. “What’s that matter? I like them. C’mon, Mom, don’t be such a drag.”

“I’m not being a drag,” Tara replied, familiar with this conversation. “I’m being a responsible mother. And until I find out what kind of music this awesome new Snake band is playing and if it’s suitable for you, I can’t agree to let you go to this concert.”

Laurel’s oval face flushed with anger. “You are so lame! Since when did you start being responsible, anyway?”

Hurt by the rage spewing out of her daughter, Tara could only stare. When she finally found her voice, she asked, “What does that mean, Laurel? I’m your mother. I’m trying to do what I think is best.”

“Yeah, right,” Laurel shouted, her hands on her hip-hugger jeans. “Now, Mom. Now you’re trying to do the right thing. Now that Dad is gone and you’ve finally realized you have a family—”

At Tara’s shocked gasp, Laurel stopped, tears welling in her eyes. “Oh, never mind. It’s a dumb band, anyway. I’ll just sit at home and mope, the way you do!”

With that, Laurel marched to the door, only to run smack into Tara’s mother, Peggy.

“Whoa,” Peggy said, her hands reaching up to steady Laurel. “Where are you going?” Seeing the look on Tara’s face, she held Laurel with her hands on the girl’s slender arms. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s her!” Laurel said, jerking away to point at Tara. “She’s decided to be a real mom, only it’s too late for that now.”

Peggy watched as her granddaughter charged down the hall and up the stairs to her room on the second floor, then she turned to Tara as they both heard the door slamming shut. “I thought things were getting better between you two.”

“Me, too,” Tara said, slinking down on the bed. Her voice shaky, she said, “We had such a good talk a few weeks ago, you know, after she ran away with Cal Ashworth.”

Peggy sat down next to her. “Honey, they didn’t run away. They just fell asleep on the beach.”

“Yes, and caused Ana to worry and then hurt her ankle looking for them.”

“But…as you said, you worked through that.”

“I thought we worked through it,” Tara said, looking at her mother’s comforting face. Ana looked like their mother. They both had auburn hair and green eyes, whereas Tara took after their father, blonde and blue eyed. “At times, we can talk and laugh, at other times, she reverts back to a little she-monster.”

Her mother’s knowing green eyes were appraising her now, in the way only a mother’s could. “What’s wrong this time?”

“She wants to go to some rock concert in Savannah this weekend. I simply wanted to know what kind of songs this bands sings, before I let her go.”

Peggy smiled. “Does that sound familiar?”

Tara nodded, wiped her eyes. “I remember, Mom. My freshman year in high school. I wanted to go see some heavy metal band that was playing in Atlanta, and you refused to even consider it.”

“You pouted for two weeks.”

Tara took her mother’s hand in hers. “Yes, and about a month later, the band broke up. Their fifteen minutes of fame was over.”

“Glad you’re not still pouting,” Peggy said. “Honey, Laurel will be fine. She’s at that age—growing up, hormones going wacky.”

Tara nodded. “Yes, but it’s more than that. She’s still so angry at me…because of Chad’s death.”

“She can’t blame you for that,” Peggy said, frowning. “The man died of a heart attack. Granted, he was way too young, but…you didn’t know. None of us knew how sick Chad was.”

“Tell that to Laurel,” Tara said, getting up to pace around the spacious room. “Mom, she heard us fighting the night before he died.”

“Oh, my,” Peggy said, a hand playing through her clipped hair. “Have you talked to her about this?”

“I’ve tried. We talked a little about it after…after I realized how much Laurel was hurting, and I thought we were making progress. Rock’s been counseling her about forgiveness, and letting go of her anger.”

Peggy’s expression was full of understanding. “Well, maybe this outburst is just because you won’t let her go to the concert.”

Tara shook her head. “You heard what she said. Laurel doesn’t believe I’m a good mother. And maybe she’s right.”

“No,” Peggy replied, coming to stand by her. “You have always been a good mother. You know, we all slip up now and again. The important thing is to not keep making the same mistakes. I don’t think you’re going to let anything come between you and your children, ever again.”

“No, I’m not,” Tara said, wishing she could tell her mother all of her worries. But then, her mother would just worry right along with her, and she didn’t want that. “Thanks, Mom,” she said instead. “I’m so glad you and Daddy decided to spend this week here.”

“Me, too, honey.” Peggy gave her a quick hug, then said, “Oh, by the way, Ana called earlier while you were out. She invited us to come to the island Saturday. The church is having a picnic on the grounds. Some sort of anniversary celebration.”

Tara groaned. “Oh, yes. The church is 230 years old. Can you imagine that? I’d forgotten all about the celebration.”

“Amanda wants to go,” Peggy said, her hand on the door. “And I think Marybeth does, too.”

“But I bet Laurel won’t like it, as compared to going to a concert in the city.”

“Cal will be there,” Peggy pointed out. “You might try reminding her of that.”

“Good idea,” Tara replied. “And a good reason to keep her from attending that concert.”

And a good reason for Tara not to dwell all weekend on why Stone Dempsey hadn’t returned her phone calls.

“She’s called twice today, Stone.”

“Let her keep calling,” Stone replied, his gaze scanning the computer screen in front of him. “That land’s not going anywhere.”

He stopped reading the screen, aware that his executive assistant, Diane Mosley, was still standing there, staring at him with the precision of a laser light.

“What?” he finally said, closing the laptop to glare up at the woman who had been by his side since he’d first opened a storefront office, straight out of college ten years ago, in an older section of Savannah’s business district.

Diane was close to fifty, her hair platinum blond and short-cropped, her eyes a keen hazel behind her wire-rimmed bifocals. Pursing her lips, she tapped a sensible-shoed foot on the marble floor. “Why are you tormenting that poor woman?”

Stone felt the wrath of Diane’s formidable reprimand. But he didn’t dare let it show. They had an understanding, his dependable, loyal assistant and him. She was really the boss, but he really didn’t want to admit that. So they pretended he was the boss. It worked fine most days. Unless she started mothering him or pestering him.

Like now.

“I am not tormenting Tara Parnell. I have every right to go back to the drawing board regarding that piece of property. After all, we’re talking millions of dollars here. I want to make sure I have all my ducks in a row.”

“I understand about your little ducks,” Diane said, her steely gaze unwavering. “What I don’t understand is why you’ve seemed so edgy since meeting with Mrs. Parnell. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she got the best of you.”

Stone glanced at the grandfather clock centered between two multipaned windows, then deciding it was close enough to quitting time, loosened his silk tie. Since he didn’t want to go into detail regarding his wildly variable feelings about Tara Parnell, he said, “No, actually, she brought out the worst in me, which is why I’m reconsidering this whole deal.”

He’d planned an overall assault. Flowers, candy, the works. He’d planned on forcing Tara to spend time with him over the last week. But somehow, that planned tactic had gone by the wayside. Each time he remembered how she’d looked at him, with all that hate and disgust, he got cold feet and decided he’d do better sticking to business and playing hardball. He’d be much safer that way, less vulnerable to a counterattack.

“You aren’t going to let the land go, are you?” Diane asked, shifting her files from one arm to the other. “Stone, you’ve been eyeing that land for months now.”

“Yes, I have,” he admitted. Chad Parnell had let it slip about the land he’d bought dirt cheap from a family friend years ago, land he’d been sitting on until the right time to sell. Only, Chad had died before being able to turn a profit on the land. But Stone had remembered the land, and everything had fallen into place. “No, I’m not going to let go of the land, Diane. But if it will make you stop glowering at me like I’m an ugly bulldog, I’ll tell you why I’m holding off.”

Diane settled one ample hip against the solid oak of his big desk, then lowered her eyeglasses. “Do tell.”

“Don’t mention this to Griffin,” Stone said. “But I’ve reached a conclusion, one I think will be beneficial to both Mrs. Parnell and me.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Ana asked Tara the following Saturday.

They were sitting in lawn chairs behind the tiny Sunset Island Chapel, overlooking the docks of the bay and Sunset Sound to the west. Out over the sound, hungry gulls searched the waters for tasty tidbits, their caws sounding shrill in the late-afternoon air. A fresh-smelling tropical breeze rattled through the tall, moss-draped live oaks, its touch swaying the palmetto branches clustered here and there around the property. Behind them, near an arched trellis, a gardenia bush was blossoming with sweet-scented bursts of white flowers.

“I’m okay,” Tara replied, her dark sunshades hiding the truth she felt sure was flashing through her eyes. “Just another fight with Laurel.”

“Oh, yes, that,” Ana said. “I heard.” Taking a quick look around, she added, “Well, she seems to be over not going to the concert. Look at her.” She inclined her head toward the docks.

Tara leaned up, squinting, then saw her daughter and Cal, sitting on one of the many wooden docks lining the bay where luxury yachts shared slips with smaller, less impressive sailboats, shrimp boats and motorboats. They were talking and laughing, their hands waving in the air. Not far away, a long brown pelican stood sentinel on an aged pier railing.

“He is a very nice boy,” Tara said, lifting a hand toward Cal. “A good influence on Laurel, if he’ll stick to the rules and not sneak off into the night with her again.”

“Oh, I think Cal’s learned his lesson on that one,” Ana replied. “His father made him work that particular crime off, sweating and painting all summer.”

“What about his mother? I never hear anyone mention her.”

“She died when he was seven. It’s sad, really. Don has sisters and brothers who help him with his children. Cal’s got two older sisters, too, who watch out for him.”

“That explains a few things,” Tara said, her heart hurting for her daughter. “Maybe that’s why Laurel’s drawn to Cal. You know, losing a parent.”

“Maybe.” Ana sat up, waved to someone she knew. “Oh, I need to talk to that woman. She commissioned a small sculpture from Eloise, to be delivered to my shop. I want to tell her it’s ready.”

“Okay,” Tara said, closing her eyes as she settled back to let the sun wash over her. “I’ll just lie here and vegetate a few more minutes before I find the strength to sample more of Rock’s wonderful barbecued ribs.”

“Yes, my husband does have nice ribs,” Ana quipped, slapping Tara playfully on the leg as she hopped up.

Tara didn’t bother opening her eyes. The sun felt good on her legs. She’d worn a black gauze sarong skirt, lightweight and cool-feeling, with a knit red-and-black flower-splashed sleeveless top. Lifting at the skirt, she kicked off her black leather thong sandals and tried for the hundredth time to relax.

But all she could think about was her money woes and the fact that her oldest daughter thought she was a horrible mother. She’d prayed that things would turn around for her family, hoped that God would see fit to give her another chance. But she still had doubts. She still needed answers, guidance, assurance.

And maybe some solid health and life insurance.

Help me here, Lord, she thought. Help me to make my life better, for the sake of my children. She’d tried so hard all summer, working on two different land deals. But this was about more than money. Tara needed the money those deals could bring, but she also needed to spend time with her children. She’d taken way too much time off already, and her bosses weren’t too happy about that. What am I supposed to do, Lord?

A shadow fell across Tara’s face.

Annoyed, she opened her eyes to find Stone Dempsey standing over her. She didn’t know why her heart seemed to sail off like a ship leaving the cove. She didn’t understand why he looked so very good in his stark white polo shirt and olive-khaki pleated slacks. Tara only knew that she needed some answers. From God and Stone Dempsey.

“Me,” he said, as if to answer the one question she was about to ask.

“You,” Tara replied. “What are you doing here, Stone?”

“I came bearing gifts.” He tossed a bouquet of fresh cut flowers onto her lap.

Tara sat up, sniffed the lilies and roses. “How did you know where to find me?”

“I have ways of finding people,” he said. “Especially when I’m in the middle of negotiating a contract.”

Tara imagined he knew every move she’d made since they last talked, which was a bit too unsettling. But she refused to let her qualms show. “Well, you obviously aren’t too concerned, since you refused to return my calls.”

He took that in, glanced out at the harbor, then lifted his shades to stare down at her. “I’ve been busy coming up with another plan. And I’m here because I hope we can renegotiate.”

The heat from his eyes hit her with all the warmth of the sun, causing Tara to shift and straighten her skirt. “Meaning the contract, of course?”

“Among other things.”

Tara thought she knew what other things he wanted to haggle over, but she didn’t dare think about that now. “What’s to renegotiate? You’ve named your price and I’ve accepted it.”

“With a certain stipulation, if you’ll recall?”

“Yes, I recall. I never wanted to see you again. But I need to sell that property, so in spite of how I feel, I’ve tried calling you to discuss things. You obviously aren’t in a big hurry for that land, after all.”

“I’m in a hurry,” he said, leaning down so close she could smell the subtle spice of his aftershave. “But I can be patient, too.”

“What does that mean?” Tara said, trying to get up out of the low chair.

He reached down and pulled her out of the chair with one hand on her arm, then brought her close, his gaze sweeping her. “Careful now.”

Why couldn’t she be graceful around him, at least, Tara wondered. Because the man flustered her, plain and simple.

Not so plain and not so simple.

“I told you, I’m through playing games,” Tara said, trying to move around him, her flowers clutched to her side.

“I’m not playing, Tara.” The look in his eyes washed over her like a warm, shimmering ocean wave, leaving her both languid and alert. “Have dinner with me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Oh, yes, you will. Because it’s not going to happen.”

“Tara, what’s going on with you and Stone?” Ana asked Tara later that night. “He’s called here three times.” Before Tara could reply, Ana clapped her hands together. “Did you take me up on my suggestion? Is that it? Are you going out with Stone, like on a date?”

“Oh, please!”

Tara sat across the massive kitchen counter of the tea room, folding napkins for tomorrow’s after-church brunch crowd. The girls and her parents were down on the beach with Rock and Cal, leaving the two sisters alone in the big Victorian house that served both as Ana’s tea room and art gallery on the bottom floor and Ana and Rock” s home on the second and third floors. Business had been so good at the quaint restaurant, Rock and Ana hadn’t really had a proper honeymoon—just one weekend together alone in this big old house. But Ana didn’t seem to mind. She was happy. Too happy to understand this problem with Rock’s brother.

Which was why Tara had debated telling Ana about Stone. Now she didn’t have any choice. He’d called here, asking for Tara. Luckily, Rock hadn’t answered.

“Oh, please, what?” Ana said, her hands on her hips before she went back to her bread dough. “Tell me, Tara. I mean, you two must have really clicked at the wedding, so why are you holding out on me?”

“It’s business,” she said finally. “Stone is trying to buy my land.”

Ana stopped stirring bread dough, her mouth dropping open. “That land near Savannah that Chad bought all those years ago?”

“Yes.” Tara nodded, folded another napkin, then stopped, looking down at the counter. “He wants to develop it into an upscale gated residential community, complete with shopping centers and restaurants near the river.”

Ana dropped her spoon to stare at her sister. “That could mean a lot of money, right?”

Tara nodded again. “He’s offering me a lot, yes, but not as much as I’d hoped to get.”

“And when did all of this come about? Certainly not at the wedding?”

Tara kept her eyes down. “No, we just met at the wedding. Look, it’s a long story—”

A knock on the back door stopped Tara in midsentence. “You’ve got some explaining to do,” Ana said underneath her breath before she opened the door.

Eloise Dempsey whirled in, carrying a yellow-colored sealed folder in her hand, her gaze hitting on Tara. “Oh, good, you’re here. I’m supposed to deliver this to you.”

“What is it?” Tara asked, surprised to find the famous sculpture artist playing postmistress.

Eloise gave her a wry smile, then shook her head, her feathered dreamcatcher earrings shimmering and shimmying as she moved around the long counter to give Ana a quick peck on the cheek. “Well, it’s the strangest thing,” Eloise said, her eyes back on Tara. “My son Stone came to pay me a rare visit this evening. We had a nice dinner and then he said he needed me to do him a favor.”

Tara’s heart picked up tempo, while her sister picked up an obvious interest in the conversation. “What else did he say?” Tara asked, her eyes locking with Ana’s.

“He said to tell you, actually to tell all of us, we’re invited to a private dinner party next month, at his home here on the island—Hidden Hill.”

“What type of dinner party?” Ana asked before Tara could say a word. “I mean, that old mansion isn’t in any kind of shape for a party.”

“Oh, a black-tie benefit for the lighthouse.” Eloise clapped her hands together. “He implied it was by invitation only. And I think he’s going to hold it in the garden, in spite of how bad the place looks. I believe we’ll all receive our formal invitation in about a week or so.”

Ana smirked, then rolled her eyes. “So Stone couldn’t come down to the fair we held last month, to mingle with the little people?”

“I guess not,” Eloise said. “But he wants to do his part—make a contribution toward the restoration.”

“Of course he does,” Ana said, making a face to Tara behind Eloise’s back. Then, as if she regretted being so cynical, she added, “That is good news, Eloise.”