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“Pearl?”
Coral tossed her napkin. “Aren’t you listening? Jake and Pearl.”
The conversation was turning her head, and Bobbi gave up trying to make head or tails of it. The South bred a different kind of eccentricity, and it was thoroughly charming if you took the time to overlook a few things.
“I hear the First Baptist down near the river has a robust Sunday service.” Coral sipped from her orange juice. “I don’t mind company if you feel like coming along.”
Bobbi hid her surprise and took her time composing an answer while she finished off the now-cold coffee. She pushed her mug to the side and glanced toward Carol.
“That’s so nice of you, but I wouldn’t want to impose on the time you spend with your son.”
“Well, Charles is very busy, and he apologized profusely, of course, for not being able to attend service with me. It’s a darn shame the way things are in these modern times. He does tend to work a lot on the Lord’s day, and unfortunately, today is no different from last Sunday or the Sunday before.”
The woman’s words were crisp and to the point, but Bobbi sensed they were weighed down with disappointment. She wondered about a mother who came to visit her son but stayed in a B and B instead of his home. Sure, Coral Adelaide was outspoken and more than willing to get into anyone’s business, but still, it didn’t seem right. Bobbi couldn’t imagine having her Gramps stay anywhere other than her place if he was visiting from out of town.
They’d been here a week, and from what little Bobbi could tell, Coral hadn’t spent much time with her son.
“He’s married?” Bobbi asked, her intention to make polite conversation. “Your son?”
“Yes, he is.” Coral cocked her head just so and nodded. “He married a Benton from New York.” She nodded again. “Very good family. Old money, you see. They met in college and have three children. Two boys, Michael and Brody, and a girl, Savannah, though I haven’t seen the children since I’ve been here on account they’ve gone to sleepaway camp.” She sat back, and a soft smile lit up her face. “Why, my Charles’s marriage was the event of the season. Spring in Charleston is something to behold, and everything about that day was perfect, from the flowers to the church and venue.” The wistful slant to her face was underscored by the way she spoke so reverently. “It was my greatest triumph, which, ultimately, was brought low less than three weeks after the wedding, when Charles told us he was leaving Charleston and moving here to where Sybbie’s folks are from.”
Coral fell silent and made no effort to hide her sadness. It did something to Bobbi. Pulled at some piece of her that felt a certain kinship to that kind of pain. She knew what it felt like to be left behind. No longer hungry, she pushed her plate away and got to her feet.
“What time is church?” she asked softly.
Coral took a few seconds before she glanced up. “Apparently, if a person wants to sit for service, they need to be there by ten thirty.” She paused. “Please don’t feel like you need to accompany me. I really didn’t mean to intrude on your Sunday morning. I just get a little tired of my own company sometimes.”
“I was planning on running some errands uptown anyway. I think church service beforehand sounds lovely.”
“There’s nothing like a Southern sermon to light a fire in your soul.” Coral placed her glasses low on her nose and peered over them. “Have you met your new neighbor?”
Neighbor? Bobbi shook her head.
“I saw him check in yesterday. Dangerous type, from what I can see. Lord, he had more tattoos on his arm than is surely decent.” She pursed her lips. “He’s staying in the blue room across from yours. Make sure you lock your door.”
It took some effort, but Bobbi was able to keep a straight face. “Okay. Thanks for the warning.”
She grabbed up her plate and headed inside, stopping in the empty kitchen and disposing of the food before anyone would notice. She headed for the stairs and, once on the second set that led up to her room, heard music. It was low, and she couldn’t make out much, but the beat was aggressive. It came from the closed door across from hers. She glanced toward it while unlocking her own, and then, without another thought, slipped inside. She needed to shower before church and then deal with that thing she couldn’t avoid any longer.
It was time.
Chapter Four
Normally an early riser, Shane Gallagher did something rare—he slept in. It was nearly eleven in the morning when, fresh out of the shower, he made his way down to kitchen of the Belle Adair bed-and-breakfast. He looked around in appreciation. His sister had been right; the place was original, and it seemed as if time stood still in this corner of the world.
An elderly woman stood at the sink in the kitchen, but turned when he entered. She wore a plain crisp white apron pulled tight across a slender frame, and underneath, a light cotton dress, white with little blue flowers. Her thick silver hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, and her skin was deeply tanned, indicating a love of the outdoors. She had the kind of face an artist loved; the kind that reflected a life well lived. It was in the pronounced laugh lines near her eyes and in the grooves of her cheeks. It was in the sparkle of her light blue eyes as she smiled at him from across the room. She had the kind of face that was hard to pin an age to, and Shane wouldn’t even try.
“You must be our newest guest, Mr. Gallagher.”
He nodded. “Call me Shane, please. I hear Mr. Gallagher and feel the need to look over my shoulder to see if my dad’s standing there.”
“All right,” she replied, her soft Southern drawl giving a lyrical quality to her words. “Shane it is. I’m Miss Callie, the owner and operator of this establishment, and at the moment, I’ve just packed up the leftovers from breakfast.” An eyebrow shot up. “You hungry for some good ol’ Southern fare before I put everything away?”
His stomach growled. “Sure am.”
“Help yourself to some fresh coffee and head out back to the garden. It’s lovely this time of day, and other than my great-grandson, you have it to yourself. I’ll put together something for you right quick.”
There was a no-nonsense tone to her voice that reminded Shane of his grandfather. He grabbed a mug from the counter, poured himself a cup, then headed outside. He took a sip of coffee and gazed around the large green space. From the gazebo to the large deck to the colorful gardens and massive oak trees heavy with moss, it was something else. Being here soothed the part of him that had been ragged for months now, and he slowly made his way over to the gazebo, not seeing the young boy until he was almost on top of him.
