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“Designer? Is that what you call it? I thought you were merely a seamstress.”
I lifted my chin, annoyed by this rude man who didn’t know the first thing about what I did. Obviously, by the way he was looking at me as if I were a joke of some kind. “I design the patterns as well as sew them, so yes, I am, in fact, a designer.” I glared at him, hoping I looked defiant instead of intimidated, which was the truth.
“I stand corrected.” A slight smile tugged at the corners of his full mouth. I couldn’t be sure, but he seemed to be around my age of thirty. No wedding ring on his left hand, I noted, but there was a white, untanned spot where one would have been. Had he recently lost his wife? “I’m Bromley Hunting. Uncle of the bride.”
“Oh, well, yes, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Hunting.”
“It’s actually Dr. Hunting, but you may call me Bromley.” He peered down at me. His eyes were the most extraordinary color. Blue without a speck of anything else—no yellow or green spots for Bromley Hunting. He was too well-bred for such imperfections.
“What kind of doctor are you?”
“The medical kind,” Bromley said. “I was a medic in the war and came home to become a doctor.”
“What a good thing to do.” His family was rich. He’d not needed to become a doctor for the income, I suspected. But then again, neither had my nephew, Theo. Some men were drawn to healing, I supposed.
“It’s my medical opinion that you’re going to burn under this sun.” Bromley gestured toward my fair skin. It was true. I could already see freckles popping up on my forearms. “And is it red hair under that hat?”
Self-consciously, I touched my low bun with the tips of my fingers. Drat, my hair. Always such an attention-getter. I wore it long instead of bobbed like the younger women, and right now it felt hot and thick on my neck. “Not that it’s your concern, but yes. I’m a redhead.” I decided right then to give him some of his own cheeky medicine. “And you know what they say about redheads?”
“No, what do they say?”
“They say the devil gave us red hair so people would know we were coming. And not in peace.”
A burst of laughter rose from his chest. More of a chortle than a laugh. Regardless, it made me flush hotter. “I see. We have a feisty one here. Indeed, your red hair suits you.”
Instinctually, I moved closer to the shore, hoping a wave would break near me and splash my legs and arms. In addition, it was extremely uncomfortable to be in the presence of a man wearing only his bathing costume. I could see almost every part of him. Every bronzed, muscular inch.
“Is your wife with you?” I asked, hoping to distract myself from the scandalous thoughts his sunbaked skin evoked.
“No, she’s not. In fact, she’s no longer my wife.” He rubbed his thumb over the spot where his wedding ring must have resided not long ago. “We are divorced, as of a few weeks ago.”
Divorced. I couldn’t believe it. I’d never known anyone to get divorced.
His eyes had darkened. I imagined a cloud covering the sun, even though it was bright in the sky. “It’s a long story,” he said. “Of scandal and humiliation. She found someone she preferred more than me, and now she shall have him.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to say.
“Would you care to take a swim?” Bromley asked. “You seem hot.”
“I am hot. But I’ve no bathing costume.” Why hadn’t I thought to bring one? I’d not imagined the beach to be this pretty or the temperatures to be this warm.
“No matter. I’ll have Elsa find one for you. Unless you’d like to design one yourself?”
That made me laugh.
I didn’t swim with him because about then the rest of the family appeared, walking through the sand from the northern direction. They carried umbrellas and picnic baskets. An older gentleman with a thick mustache dangled a straw hat from one hand while linking his other one through that of what must be his wife. She was a grand lady, dressed in white and wearing an enormous hat with a scarlet ribbon that danced in the breeze. A younger woman, slim and graceful, clad in a yellow linen dress and small-brimmed white hat, trailed slightly behind. No shoes, I noticed, feeling thankful I wasn’t the only one. Perhaps they did that here in Florida?
“The rest of the clan,” Bromley said. “Perfect timing, as always.”
I was introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Hunting and their daughter, Cordelia. The bride. She was as pretty as her surroundings. Slim and petite, she would be easy to design a dress for.
I’m now back in my room and preparing for dinner. They’ve kindly sent a maid to help, but I told them I was accustomed to dressing myself. I’m apprehensive of dinner and hope that Bromley won’t be there.
The entry ended there. “That’s it for tonight.” I shut the journal, wishing I could keep reading.
Jamie had picked up her phone and was staring at it intently. “Looking up the Hunting family,” she said as if I’d asked. “I found them.” Her lips moved as she read whatever it was she’d found. Finally, she looked up, triumphant. “I thought I’d heard of them before. They were early developers in Florida. The company is still run by the family. They build custom homes, it looks like.”
“She fell for this Bromley guy,” I said. “And what about poor Clive?”
