The Backup Plan Read online

  When she read on her mouth dropped open.

  “Good grief,” she muttered as she scanned the rest of the article and realized that not only Bobby, but Cord had assembled impressive credentials during the years she’d been away. Their firm was considered one of the most well-respected around in their line of restoration work.

  When she came to the part about their work at Covington Plantation, her jaw dropped yet again. That was where Cord and her mother were crossing paths? Not only that, he had publicly acknowledged her mother’s role in him landing that particular job.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” she muttered. It seemed she was going to have to swallow a whole lot of crow next time she saw Cord. Now she had some idea why he had been so amused by her conclusions about him. He could afford to sit back and wait patiently for her eventual comeuppance.

  Of course, he could have simply told her the truth and saved her the embarrassment. But that would have spoiled his enjoyment of the moment when she’d be forced to admit her mistake.

  Dinah recalled his comment about her mother giving him grief and realized that it must have had to do with Covington Plantation business. It was all her mother could talk about lately.

  Irritated with herself for not heeding Maggie’s disparaging remarks about her investigative skills—to say nothing of Cord’s similar criticism—and not putting the pieces together sooner, she turned off the computer, grabbed her purse and headed for the door. It was time she paid a visit to her mother’s pet project, so she could see for herself just what was going on over there.

  It was only after she was on her way that she realized that she’d let checking out Covington Plantation and Cord’s work take precedence over getting to Atlanta in search of Bobby. She didn’t want to think about why that might be, because the one reason that immediately popped into her head was simply intolerable. Cord Beaufort, she assured herself staunchly, was not that damned fascinating.

  7

  Cord was about at his wit’s end. He’d expected to make excellent headway on restoring the molding in one of the upstairs bedrooms this afternoon, but instead he’d spent the whole blasted day placating Dorothy Davis. He saw now exactly where Dinah got her most exasperating qualities. They were two peas in a pod when it came to issuing ultimatums and assuming they knew everything about everything.

  Still, he couldn’t help but admire Mrs. Davis. For all of her designer clothes and society ways, she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty or to challenge his expertise every step of the way. Even more impressive, she really did know a lot about the work and the way it should be done. She wasn’t just opinionated. She was knowledgeable, which made their confrontations challenging and lively. She won the debates about as often as he did, not out of some desire on his part to placate her, but be cause her ideas were good ones.

  When he eliminated the nuisance factor, he was forced to concede he was actually learning quite a bit from her. Not that he would ever in a million years admit that, especially not on a day like today when she was proving to be particularly exasperating.

  “You know if you keep poking around out here, I’m going to have to buy you your own hard hat,” he told her.

  “I’d like one in pink, if possible,” she retorted. “And you might as well buy it now, because I’m not nearly done poking around.”

  He frowned at her, even though they’d been over this ground before and he was confident of her faith in his work. “Don’t you trust me?” he asked one more time. It never hurt to make sure nothing had changed. With her connections, Dorothy Davis could enhance his reputation or destroy it, depending on how satisfied she was with the end results at Covington Plantation.

  She regarded him impatiently. “Of course I do, Cord ell, or you wouldn’t have gotten this job in the first place. But you know perfectly well that I didn’t take on this project so I could sit on the sidelines. I have just as much at stake as you do.”

  He looked at her with disbelief. “Such as?”

  “My credibility,” she said at once.

  “You mean because you recommended me?” he asked, that niggling hint of self-doubt back despite all the years he’d struggled to rid himself of it, despite the growing collection of clippings from prestigious publications about the work he and Bobby were doing all over the South.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sakes. Haven’t we dispensed with that?” she asked irritably. “You’re very talented and everyone around here knows it. No, I’m talking about the fact that I recommended we take this on in the first place. Maybe the time is past when people will want to visit a plantation that only brings back memories of a shameful part of the South’s history.”

  Cord shook his head. “No, that’s exactly why it needs to be restored. The South was about more than slavery. We had a fine culture and deep-rooted traditions. There’s a lot worth remembering. These old rice plantations gave this region a valuable industry and economic base.”

  Her expression brightened. “That’s it exactly,” she said excitedly. “And it was a gracious lifestyle, when people worked hard, but spent time entertaining their friends. I sometimes wish we hadn’t lost sight of those ways. Everyone’s so rushed now. I read those articles about the so-called ‘new’ South and they make me cringe. We’ll just turn into crowded cities filled with hurried, rude people that won’t be one bit different from New York, if we’re not careful.”

  Cord laughed. “I doubt anyone will ever confuse Charleston with New York, least of all your daughter.”

  Her expression registered surprise. “You’ve seen Dinah?”

  “A time or two,” he admitted, ready to kick himself for the slip.

  She gave him a penetrating look that he’d learned to interpret as a warning to get his guard up.

  “How did she seem to you?” she asked.

  Cord wasn’t about to get into his impressions of Dinah. They were a tangled mess of contradictions, anyway. “Okay, I suppose,” he equivocated. “Why? Are you worried about her for some reason?”

  “For a lot of reasons,” she said. “To be perfectly honest, I think she’s holding something back. So does her father. She’s just not herself. Marshall tried to talk to her about it, but she claimed there was absolutely nothing wrong.”

  “Then I suppose all you can do is take her word for that,” he said, unwilling to admit that he’d seen the evidence first-hand of just how troubled Dinah was. And while he didn’t know the precise incident that had caused her post-traumatic stress problems, he knew that was the label to pin on it.

  Mrs. Davis didn’t seem convinced by his suggestion that they take a wait-and-see position. “You know,” she said, her expression turning thoughtful, “you could do me a huge favor, Cordell.”

  “Oh?” he said warily. Dorothy Davis’s requests tended to be huge. The last time she’d asked in that sweet, persuasive tone he’d wound up in a tuxedo at some fancy society dinner where she wanted him to charm some of the plantation’s prospective benefactors. And the time before that he’d been front and center in some absurd bachelor auction. He still shuddered at the embarrassment he’d felt parading down that ridiculous runway while women in the audience hooted and shouted out their bids.

  “Spend a little time with Dinah,” she requested. “See if you can find out what’s really going on with her.”

  His jaw dropped. “You want me to hang out with your daughter?”

  She gave him an impatient look. “You say that as if you’re shocked. You’re a perfectly respectable man. You’ve long since overcome your difficult beginnings. You can hold your head high around anyone in this town and don’t you dare let anybody suggest other wise.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said meekly.

  She chuckled. “Oh, can that humble act, Cordell. We both know your ego is solid enough. Now, tell me, will you spend some time with Dinah?”

  He worked hard to hide his pleasure. “I’ll do what I can,” he said, still feigning reluctance. “But Dinah may not go along with it. She and I
haven’t always seen eye to eye.”

  “Water under the bridge, I’m sure,” Dorothy Davis said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Besides, didn’t you just tell me you’d already seen her a couple of times?”

  “In passing,” Cord said, since she obviously didn’t know about Dinah’s efforts to track down his brother. “Besides, what makes you think she’ll say anything to me, when she won’t talk to you?”

  “You’re a very handsome, charming man,” she replied at once. “I’m sure you can think of some way to get a woman to open up.”

  Cord nearly choked at that. “You want me to seduce the truth out of her?”

  She laughed. “Perhaps something short of that would be preferable,” she said, then winked at him. “Then again, do whatever you feel is necessary. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I never did finish going through the downstairs rooms this morning.”

  Still trying to recover from her outrageous suggestion, Cord merely nodded. She was almost out the door, when he thought to ask, “Did you want me to come downstairs with you?”

  “No need. I’ll call for you if something’s not to my liking.”

  Cord didn’t doubt that for a minute. He shuddered to think what she would do to him if he took her daughter to bed then wound up breaking her heart. The woman was perfectly comfortable handling some frighteningly sharp tools.

  Still reeling from her discovery about Cord’s connection to her mother’s work at Covington Plantation, Dinah drove straight to the outskirts of Charleston. Only when she was on the once-familiar country road to the plantation did she finally start to calm down.

  It was peaceful out here on the road shaded by towering oaks draped in Spanish moss. Sun filtered through the trees and an occasional snowy egret or white ibis could be spotted on the side of the road. The Low Country was called that because of the prevalent swampland that made much of the area useless for building. As much as she’d hated it, Dinah thought now that there was something to be said for the pristine, natural beauty that no developer would ever destroy except at great expense. The low-lying area which was prone to flooding had been ideal for the rice that had been grown there centuries ago.

  There was no sign marking the driveway to Covington Plantation, but she’d been there so often she knew her way. Twenty years ago and more, when they’d lived not far from the plantation, rather than in their current home in town, her mother had been fascinated with the old, deserted house. She’d taken Tommy Lee and Dinah there for picnics on the sweeping veranda, then made up stories about the place until they fell asleep for their naps.

  The once-graceful old house had fallen into disrepair decades ago. Still, the long, winding driveway was lined with towering magnolias and colorful azaleas in shades of pink, magenta and purple. It was evident that change was underway. The lawn was neatly trimmed now and the veranda looked almost as if mint juleps could be served there at any second. Only the sound of saws and hammers and shouts disturbed the tranquility of the set ting and suggested that the plantation was under siege by workmen.

  She found her mother in what was once the formal dining room downstairs. She had a hard hat on her head, dust on her cheek and an irritated expression on her patrician features. She was standing practically nose to nose with Cord.

  “Cordell Beaufort, I thought I had made it clear that these old floors were to be preserved at all costs. Why are you ripping this one up?”

  Several workmen stood around, obviously waiting for further instructions. Judging from their amused expressions, these battles were not uncommon. In fact, even Cord looked more amused than intimidated, which no doubt riled Dinah’s mother no end.

  Hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, he rocked back on his heels and said, “And I told you if we leave this rotted wood in here, we’ll be courting a lawsuit. Of course, we could always offer a prize to the first tourist who falls through and breaks a leg.”

  Dorothy Davis scowled. “But the historic integrity of the plantation—”

  “Will be perfectly intact,” Cord assured her in a placating tone.

  Her mother’s gaze narrowed. “How?”

  “I’ve found a supply of wood that matches this exactly in an old house that’s being torn down in Savannah,” Cord said. “It’s in excellent condition, given its age. I researched it very carefully. It can be dated to the same period.”

  Dorothy seemed slightly mollified. “I suppose that would work.”

  “Of course it will. When the board gave me this job, I assumed it was because y’all knew I’d do it right.” He caught sight of Dinah just then and winked. “Hey, sugar, I hope you came to take your mama on home. She’s had a long day.”

  Despite her annoyance with him only a short time earlier, Dinah barely contained a chuckle. “I imagine it was a lot longer for you than it was for her.”

  His lips twitched. “I never said such a thing, now did I?”

  “Only because you’re too polite,” Dinah said, admiring his restraint. “Which is something I never thought I’d say about you.”

  His grin spread. “Stick around. You may discover a whole lot of things about me you never expected to learn.”

  Dinah caught the speculative look in her mother’s eyes and decided the exchange had gone on long enough. “Mother, could I see you outside?”

  “Of course, darling. Cord and I were just finishing up. This room was the last one on my inspection tour.”

  “Is that right?” Cord said. “Are you certain there’s not some nook or cranny that you’ve missed? I believe I actually managed to put in a whole fifteen minutes of work upstairs today.”

  “Don’t be a smart-aleck with me, young man,” Dinah’s mother responded with unmistakable affection. “And don’t forget any of the instructions I gave you, either.” She cast a pointed look in Dinah’s direction, then beamed at her. “Okay, darling, let’s go outside where we’ll be able to hear ourselves think. There’s too much racket in here.”

  “Hasn’t stopped you from making conversation with me,” Cord said. “I’ll be upstairs again, if either of you need me for anything.”

  “Maybe you can give Dinah a tour of the place, after she and I finish up,” her mother suggested.

  “Glad to,” Cord responded, then met Dinah’s gaze. “Just come and get me when you’re ready.”

  Dinah couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away when he left the room. Those blasted jeans fit his behind and his thighs like a particularly snug glove. Sadly, his black T-shirt covered up the stomach she knew for a fact was hard as a rock.

  She didn’t realize she’d sighed until she caught a glimpse of her mother’s amused expression.

  “Let’s go outside,” she said hurriedly, her cheeks flaming.

  But once there, Dinah couldn’t decide which question she wanted to ask first.

  It was her mother who broke the silence. “Cordell has turned into an amazing young man, hasn’t he?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Dinah said. “I’m surprised you never mentioned that he was working on Covington Plantation.”

  Her mother gave her a wry look. “Be honest, Dinah. This sort of thing always bored you to tears. You never had much interest in the preservation of our Southern heritage. When I suggested you drive out here with me the other day, you practically yawned in my face.”

  That was true enough.

  “Unless, of course, your real interest isn’t the house, but Cord,” her mother remarked slyly.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Dinah said. Hearing the words, she realized she’d had a few too many occasions lately to use them in connection with her feelings for Cord. “Actually, since his company is doing this project, I was hoping you’d be able to tell me how to get in touch with Bobby.”

  Her mother looked vaguely disappointed. “I’m al most certain that Bobby is in Atlanta. They’re finishing up a rather large restoration project there and bidding on something else, I believe.”

  “Can you get a number for me?”

  “We
ll, of course, but why? I wasn’t aware that you and Bobby had been in touch recently. I thought you two ended your relationship years ago.”

  “We did,” Dinah admitted, then added with what she hoped was just the right casual note, “But seeing him is one of the reasons I decided to come home. I thought we could catch up, as long as I’m in town.”

  Dinah was not about to go into detail on that subject. Her mother would be horrified by the thought that her daughter actually had some sort of coolly calculated backup plan for getting married and having babies. She might want Dinah settled, but she was romantic enough to want it to be a love match or at least some mutually agreeable social arrangement.

  “Why didn’t you just ask Cordell?” her mother asked. “He mentioned that you two had run into each other recently. I was rather hoping… Well, never mind. You’ve always insisted on doing things your own way.”

  “I have asked Cord to give a message to Bobby. Apparently he hasn’t seen fit to do it. I decided to track Bobby down myself.”

  “Don’t lay the blame on Cordell. Perhaps Bobby’s been too busy to get back to you,” her mother said gently. “He works very hard and he does have a fiancée, after all. She might not want him spending time with an old flame.”

  Dinah felt as if all the wind had been sucked right out of her. “Bobby’s engaged?” She could hardly get the words past the boulder in her throat.

  “Why yes, to a lovely girl,” her mother replied, as if it were common knowledge. She clearly had no idea that her casual remark was shocking to Dinah. “He brought her to the house for dinner when we were finalizing the deal for this restoration. She’s absolutely crazy about him. I think they’re about to set a wedding date.”

  “But they haven’t yet?” Dinah asked with one last crazy hope of salvaging her own plan despite the very clear evidence that it was too late.