Part 44 (1/2)
57.
Cara raced into her bedroom and unearthed her backpack from her closet while Bert sat on her bed and researched c.u.mberland Island on Google.
”There are only two ferry departures a day from the Park Service dock at St. Marys, at nine and eleven-forty-five a.m.,” he reported. ”You're supposed to call weekdays before five p.m. to make a reservation.”
”What if you decide on Sunday afternoon that you want to go on Monday morning?”
”Mmm, looks like if you don't have a reservation it's first-come, first-serve. You're supposed to be there half an hour before departure time. Only two return trips a day, at ten-fifteen a.m. and four-forty-five p.m.”
Cara started folding a T-s.h.i.+rt to put in her bag.
”Bad idea,” Bert said. ”Long sleeves are the way to go over there. The place is crawling with bugs. Make sure you throw in some insect repellent and some sunscreen too. Can I ask about your plan of attack?”
”You can ask, but I don't really have one. I guess I'll get over to c.u.mberland, track Brooke down, and then hope and pray she'll listen to good sense.”
”About the tracking-down thing. You do realize the island is like twenty miles long, right? And most of it's either woods, swamp, or beaches. And only rangers or residents are allowed to have cars.”
Cara threw in a pair of running shorts, a long-sleeved T-s.h.i.+rt, and a pair of blue jeans, then added hiking boots, socks, panties, and a toothbrush to her pack.
She frowned. ”Check that website, see if you see a place called Loblolly on it.”
Bert skimmed the website, and clicked around until he found a reference.
”'Loblolly is a circa-1912 hunting lodge built to house overflow guests from Plum Orchard, the Carnegies' opulent hundred-room Georgian Revival mansion. In 1930, Loblolly was deeded to Jasper O. Updegraff, a wealthy friend of George Carnegie, who reportedly won the property in a high-stakes poker game.'”
”Updegraff.” Cara turned the name over in her mind. ”Vicki Cooper told me that Marie Trapnell came from a family with even more money than Gordon's, but I can't remember if she told me the family name.”
”One moment,” Bert said, typing in a Google search. ”Okay, here it is. Brooke's engagement announcement from the Savannah Morning News. Mary Brooke Trapnell, daughter of Gordon Vincent Trapnell of Vernonburg, and Marie Louise Eagleton Trapnell, of Savannah.”
”Gotta love the Savannah newspaper for running those engagement announcements so everybody in polite society can keep a scorecard on who's marrying whom,” Cara said.
”Cullen reads the engagement announcements in the Savannah and Charleston papers religiously, and if he sees an upper-crust name, he always sends flowers to the bride-to-be,” Bert said. ”You'd be amazed the amount of business it generates.”
”Yes, he's quite the entrepreneur,” Cara said. ”I wonder if he makes it a habit to steal heirloom silver from any of those brides?”
”Updegraffs,” Bert muttered. ”Updegraff?”
”Keep looking,” Cara said. ”If the house belonged to Marie's mother's family, maybe that's the Updegraff connection.”
”Okay ... yeah. Here we go. There's a story about Brooke's debut from a few years ago. Daughter of Gordon and Marie, stepdaughter of Patricia, granddaughter of so and so Von Moneybags the Third, and great-granddaughter of the late Dr. and Mrs. Warner Updegraff of Sea Island, Georgia.”
”Bingo.” Cara found a bottle of bug spray and threw it into the bag. ”So, the question is, how far is Loblolly from the ferry dock, and if there are no cars, how do I get there once I'm on the island?”
”Checking. This says Loblolly is five miles from the dock. That's a pretty good hike in June. But it does say you can rent a bike.” Bert looked up at her. ”Did I mention there are no motels? Just primitive tent camping. And the Greyfield Inn, where rooms without a private bath start at around five hundred dollars a night.”
”I'm not planning to need a room,” Cara said. She hoisted the backpack to her shoulder to test its weight. ”If I do have to hike, this shouldn't be too heavy.”
”Ugh,” Bert grimaced. ”I wouldn't mind hiking and camping, if it weren't for the fact that you have to do it outside, in nature. They have boo-koodles of nature over on c.u.mberland. All these bugs buzzing around, and random animals. I mean, in addition to your garden-variety racc.o.o.ns and possums and deer they have herds of wild horses p.o.o.ping everywhere, not to mention alligators.” He glanced down at the Park Service website. ”Just listen to this: 'Venomous snakes present on the island include diamondback rattlesnakes, timber rattlesnakes and cottonmouth moccasins.'”
”I'll be sure to watch where I walk,” Cara promised, They went back out to the living room, and Cara gathered up her cell phone and charger.
”What needs doing in the shop while you're gone?” Bert asked. ”What do we have coming up?”
”The usual baby shower, retirement, and hospital stuff,” Cara said. ”Check the inbox on my desk. We've also got the Loudermilk wedding next Sat.u.r.day, but it's a second marriage for both of them, very small, simple ceremony in the best friend's town house on Charlton Street. The couple are very sweet, very low maintenance. We're doing a bouquet for BeBe, one for Weezie, her maid-of-honor, boutonnieres for Harry and the best man, and a couple of arrangements for the mantel and the buffet table. But that's not until Sat.u.r.day, and hopefully, I'll be back here tomorrow afternoon.”
”Hopefully,” Bert said.
”You'll stay here and take care of Poppy?” she asked. Her face darkened at the memory of the last, temporary a.s.sistant she'd hired, with such disastrous results. ”And walk her and make sure she gets plenty of water?”
”When have I not done those things?” Bert asked. ”You know I'll take care of everything around here.” He grabbed her hand. ”Hey. You trust me, right? I mean, I know I messed up, with Cullen. But that's history. This is the new Bert. Reliable, responsible Bert.”
”Okay. Yeah, that's the Bert I need,” Cara said. She hugged him tightly. ”That's the one I missed. I was really starting to panic about doing these next three weddings without you.”
”Three? Who do we have besides the Loudermilk wedding, and then Brooke's?”
”The week before Brooke and Harris we've got the Schroeders.”
”Ohh. Wait. Is that the beach wedding?”
”Afraid so.”
”Who gets married at the beach on Tybee in late June?”
”Somebody who's never been there in June,” Cara said. ”She's from out of town. The whole wedding party is from out of town.”
Cara was raiding the shop's petty-cash drawer when she heard the sound of a car door slamming on the street outside. She looked up in time to see Jack Finnerty heading toward the shop door. She considered running out the back door to evade yet another confrontation with him, but it was already too late. He'd spotted her, and Poppy had spotted Jack, and she was barking and pawing at the door, eager to see her old friend.
As soon as he stepped in the door, Poppy pounced, slapping her front paws on his chest, and slathering his neck with her big pink tongue.
”Hey, girl!” he said, ruffling the fur on Poppy's neck. ”Have you missed me?” He looked up at Cara, and it was obvious he was addressing them both.
Jack had obviously come directly from the job site. His work boots were covered in mud and sawdust, and his T-s.h.i.+rt and jeans were grimy.
Cara felt her heart pounding in her chest. d.a.m.n Jack Finnerty. He was the only man she'd ever known who looked as good dirty as he did clean. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember another man who made her palms sweat and her pulse race the way Jack did. Too bad he'd turned out to be such a world-cla.s.s jerk.
”I've started packing, if you've come to check up on your investment,” she said coolly. ”I move over to Hall Street next week.” She gestured around the small room. ”And just in case Sylvia Bradley didn't mention it, all the shelving and fixtures are mine. And I intend to take them with me.”
Jack's face flushed under his sunburn. ”You know that's not why I came here. Look. Maybe I didn't express myself too well the last time. I was pumped, you know? So let me be clear. I bought this building for you. Not to give to you, or hold over your head so I'd have demonical power over you. It's a great building, and I thought it deserved something better. And you deserve something better, too.”
”I see.”
”Okay, so yeah, maybe I also bought it because I'm a typical compet.i.tive male and I wanted to keep that creep Cullen Kane from getting his hands on it. So yeah, my execution was pretty clumsy. But don't I at least get credit for...”
”What? Having a pure heart?”