20. Harlan

20

HARLAN

I stepped out of the shower and automatically glanced out the window to the Moore farmhouse. I'd never paid much attention to the comings and goings of our neighbor, but now I couldn't go more than twenty minutes without satisfying the urge to look and see what was going on.

Last time I'd checked, Miss Rhonda was outside tinkering in her vegetable garden, wearing a pair of jean overalls and a wide-brim hat. Earlier today, I'd caught the briefest glimpse of Daphne when a group of people arrived in a blacked-out SUV. I assumed it must be her crew from California. She'd greeted them all with a bright smile and huge hugs.

I'd heard from Caroline Shaw that a production crew was staying at the boarding house, but Mrs. B explained that they were going to set up a "home base" at the Moore farmhouse. Apparently, Miss Rhonda had insisted, and from what I gathered, much to the chagrin of Mrs. B.

My phone buzzed, and I looked down. Speaking of Ms. Shaw, she was sending me a message reminding me of my commitment this evening.

Right. As much as I was not looking forward to this evening, I was ready to get it over with. I quickly dried my hair and got dressed. I grabbed Dini from the bed and headed down the back staircase. I found Grandad sitting at the kitchen table.

"You need anything before I take off Grandad?" I asked, as I set Dini down in her favorite nook to catch the last rays of the setting sun through the west-facing window.

Grandad lifted his head from the latest Louis L'Amour book he'd checked out from the library earlier today. I'd dropped him off there after my classes this morning but picked him up three hours later at Beasley Boarding House. When I drove up, he and Mrs. B were on the porch in rocking chairs.

He'd been spending a lot of time at the boarding house the past few months. He'd never spent any time there before Meemaw passed. Every time I asked him about it, he'd mumble something about working on projects there.

Mrs. B and Meemaw had been friends. There was a group of four women who played mahjong once a week at the boarding house, and whenever one of them couldn't make it, they called Meemaw to come in as a substitute.

"Where are you headin' off to dressed so smart, Beauty-locks?"

I glanced down at myself. I was wearing black slacks and a long-sleeved gray button-down shirt. It wasn't as formal as what I'd worn to the gala, but it still made me feel uncomfortable. I'd be much happier in jeans and a T-shirt or sweats. "I have to go have dinner with the woman who bid on me in the auction."

"Did ya ever find out who she was?"

"Just her name, but I don't know her."

"Well, whoever she is, she's got deep pockets."

Even though he hadn't voiced it, I knew that Grandad thought spending 5K on a night with me was about 5K too much. And I agreed with him.

"Can you take me over to the boardin' house tomorrow? I need to check on a pipe that's makin' some noise and givin' Vera some trouble."

"Sure," I agreed as I headed outside.

That was two days in a row. I wondered if maybe there was something more going on between the two of them. That seemed insane, considering how much Grandad had loved Meemaw. But then again, I never knew he had a thing for Daphne's grandma, so maybe there was a lot I didn't know about him.

As I climbed into my truck, my gaze fell on the Moore farmhouse. The SUV was gone, and I wondered if that meant Daphne was gone, too. These next few weeks were going to be torture if I didn't figure out how to stop obsessing about her. The problem was, I hadn't had feelings like this—well, maybe ever. No, not maybe ever. I had never felt this much, this fast for anyone in the past. I'd cared about my exes, loved them even, been attracted to them obviously, but nothing like this.

It was like I had no control over it. And I didn't like having no control. As I drove to the restaurant, I tried to put Daphne and the show she was going to be filming out of my mind, but all my thoughts kept circling back to the blue-eyed beauty who had invaded my brain.

When I pulled into the parking lot of the Opera House, where I was meeting my ‘date' for dinner, I realized I felt nervous. Not because I was worried about impressing my mystery woman, but because I wasn't sure exactly what she was expecting from her ‘generous' bid.

Who in their right mind would pay five thousand dollars for four hours of time with someone they didn't know?

I guess I was about to find out.

During the elevator ride up to the rooftop, where the restaurant portion of the Opera House was located, I felt fidgety. I checked the buttons on my shirt to make sure that they were all done. I checked my fly to make sure it was zipped up. I checked my shoes to make sure my laces weren't untied. These nerves were not something I was used to. The last time I'd felt them was my first time up to bat in the majors. I hoped this would go better than that had, considering I struck out.

Not that I wanted to get a home run, or even get to any bases. In fact, I had no plans for that at all. That was part of what I was worried about—that she would be thinking that was going to happen.

When the elevator doors opened, I saw Corey Banks, a teen who officiated AJ's games, waiting at the host stand.

"Hey, I'm here to mee?—"

"She's here," he cut me off, his lips parted in a knowing smile, revealing a mouth full of braces. "She's waiting at the bar." He motioned to the right, where the bar was located.

I walked around the corner and saw a woman with her back facing me. Her long, brunette hair hung to her mid-back. She was wearing a form-fitting red dress that clung to her curves, stopping just below her knee.

"Ms. French?"

She turned, and when she did, I was taken aback for a couple reasons. One, she had the bluest eyes I'd ever seen in real life. They were damn near electric. And two, she looked familiar. I'd seen those eyes before.

"Ari?" I questioned.

"Ariana, now, but yes."

"Ari Culpepper?" I didn't mean to call her Ari again after she'd corrected me; it was just out of habit.

Ari's great-great-grandfather, Trenton Culpepper, was one of the founders of Firefly Island. Culpepper's father was an oil tycoon. He attended Harvard, and his fraternity brothers,Carlton Abernathy, whose family owned luxury hotels, and Benson Montgomery, who was heir to a shipping dynasty, bought the island after graduation to use as a private vacation destination. But then their plans changed, and the trio decided to move to the island permanently and develop it.

She was from old money. If memory served, Ari's parents broke up in the middle of fourth grade. She never returned after Christmas break. She and her mom left town.

"Culpepper-French now."

I still couldn't believe that it was her. "What are you doing here?"

The corners of her lips curled. "Meeting you."

"No, not here in the restaurant." I shook my head. "I mean, Firefly Island."

She exhaled slowly. "I guess you could say I'm going back to my roots."

"Your table is ready," Corey interjected as he approached, holding two menus.

Ariana and I followed Corey to a table overlooking the water.

After we were seated, Corey took our drink orders and let us know that Mauve would be over to take our orders shortly. Mauve Dennis was a few years behind me in school and was one of my Farm Strong clients. She'd been dropping serious hints that she'd like me to ask her out for the past year, but I'd ignored them. For a while now, I felt like I'd been treading water.

Every time I thought I had my life together, a wave would crash over me. The first big blow was tearing my rotator cuff. Losing my lifelong dream and then recovery had taken its toll on me, but I'd managed to come back. Then, once I was able to survive that, I moved home and discovered how bad things were at the farm when Meemaw got sick. I managed to figure out a way to make ends meet, and Meemaw passed.

After Corey delivered our drinks, we sat in silence for a moment before Ariana asked, "When did you move back? You were out in California, right, with the Waves?"

"For one season. Yeah, I've been back for about three years." I took a sip of my beer. "What about you? Where have you been?"

"In Manhattan, mainly. I spent some time abroad after college, but I've been back stateside for about four years now."

"And, so French, is that…?"

"Ex-husband. Our divorce was finalized yesterday."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. I'm not."

"Oh, okay."

"I didn't mean it to sound like that. It's just…" She exhaled slowly again. "We weren't right for each other. We got together when we were young, had a child, and, you know, grew apart."

"You have kids?"

"One. A daughter. Kendall. She's about to be twelve."

She was the same age as AJ. "Wow, so you were what, eighteen when you had her?"

"Yeah."

"That is young."

She nodded, and Mauve came over and took our orders. The rest of the dinner was filled with more catching up. We mostly talked about old schoolmates and teachers. It was nice, but I didn't get the sense that she was flirting with me. Which was great, but I was left a little confused as to why she's spent five grand on a dinner with me.

When the bill came, we both reached for it.

"I've got it," I insisted. I felt like it was the least I could do.

"No, it's on me. It's a business expense."

"A business expense?" I repeated.

"Yes." She reached into her bag and retrieved a large white envelope, then slid it across the table to me.

When I pulled out the documents inside, I saw that the letterhead read ACF Holdings. This was the developer who had been trying to get Grandad to sell his land.

I looked back up at Ariana. "You're ACF Holdings?"

"Ariana Culpepper French, A-C-F. I've been trying to speak to your grandfather for months, but he's stonewalling me."

Now everything made sense. The five grand for dinner. The non-flirty vibe. The business expense.

"Since he won't speak to me, I decided to bring this to you. It's a good offer, and it's negotiable." She placed three hundred dollar bills in the black bill folder and stood. "Look it over and let me know if you have any questions. It was nice seeing you again."

It was more than a ‘good offer.' It was at least twenty grand over what the property was worth. And that was a lot to think about.