Page 26 of Charm

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Joe.”

“You can bank on that,” he says before he kisses my cheek and darts off down the driveway in a sprint.

My moonlit walk downthe beach was everything I imagined it would be. The water was warm as it washed over my feet. I collected a few white rocks to take home with me, and I stood looking up at the moon, grateful for the life I have.

I take one last look at the almost deserted beach before I step back onto Mrs. Frye’s property. The scent of white lilacs fills the air. As soon as I glance to the right, my breath catches.

A smile slides over my lips as tears prick my eyes. I bend down to breathe in the unmistakable smell of the lilac bush that’s next to me. The angel white lilacs move softly with the light wind that’s blowing my hair back.

Their fragrance fills the air, reminding me of summers past, and one late winter day, I thought I’d never recover from.

Closing my eyes, I tilt my chin up as tears flow down my cheeks.

A loud bark in the distance pulls me from my memories.

I look toward the beach to see Wally and Copper walking under the moonlight.

It’s a peaceful sight, and although I’m tempted to join them, sleep is calling my name.

I have a lunch date tomorrow that I need to be rested up for, because I have a feeling Joe considers me his dessert.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Holden

I ease backon the padded chair I’ve been sitting in for the past two and a half hours. That’s how long it took me to make one of my brother’s recent dreams a reality.

With a smug smile on my face, I wave goodbye to the man who sat across from me, eating a perfectly grilled steak while I convinced him to sell his company to me.

He’s the reason I’m in East Hampton this weekend, so it seems fitting that I toast to my accomplishment. I wave the server over. He practically sprints across the crowded restaurant to get to me.

“What can I get for you, Mr. Sheppard?” he asks, eagerness edging his tone.

I’ve been in this establishment enough times in the past few months that he knows how well I tip. He’s been nothing but attentive and helpful during this business dinner, so I’ll reward him handsomely for that.

“Get me a glass of your best champagne.” I stop to consider my request before I amend it. “Actually, pack up a slice of that chocolate cake thing I had for dessert. I’ll take that to go.”

“No champagne, sir?” he questions.

“Send a bottle to the table in the corner.” I tilt my chin in that direction. “I sense they’re celebrating something important.”

The only reason I noticed is that the man at the table passed a small box to the woman just moments ago. She squealed in delight when she popped it open. She tugged a gold chain with a heart pendant hanging from it out of the box before he fastened it around her neck.

Maybe it’s a birthday or an anniversary celebration. Whatever it is, the cheap wine they’re drinking doesn’t fit the occasion.

“I’ll tell them it’s courtesy of you,” the waiter boasts, as if he’s doing me a favor.

“Don’t,” I warn with a stern look. “It’s the thought that counts, not the source.”

He grins. “I’m going to steal that saying, sir.”

“Steal away. Pack me up that dessert. I want to deliver it as soon as possible.”

Just as he rushes away, my phone vibrates on the table. I turned off the ringer during dinner so I could focus solely on the man who just left this restaurant with a smile on his face that could light up the night sky.

“Jameson,” I say as I answer the call. “What do you need?”

“Information,” he says evenly. “Tim Lightell just sent me a cryptic text message.”