Clair (Beach Brides Book 4) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Epilogue

  www.gracegreene.com

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Epilogue

  CLAIR

  Beach Brides Series

  By

  Grace Greene

  It’s always a good time for a love story and trip to the beach.

  An Emerald Isle, NC Story

  Kersey Creek Books

  P.O. Box 6054

  Ashland, VA 23005

  Beach Brides ~ Clair

  Copyright © 2017 Grace Greene

  All rights reserved.

  Beach Brides (series name)

  Cover Design by Raine English, Elusive Dreams Designs

  www.ElusiveDreamsDesigns.com

  Trade Paperback Release: June 2017

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9968756-7-7

  Digital Release: June 2017

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9968756-6-0

  Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, is illegal and forbidden, without the written permission of the author, Grace Greene.

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings and/or occurrences. Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to romantics everywhere, including the ones who have a book in hand and beach sand underfoot, whether in fact or in their imagination.

  Introduction

  Grab your beach hat and a towel and prepare for a brand-new series brought to you by twelve New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors…

  Beach Brides! Fun in the summer sun!

  Twelve heartwarming, sweet novellas linked by a unifying theme.

  You’ll want to read each one!

  BEACH BRIDES SERIES (Clair)

  Twelve friends from the online group, Romantic Hearts Book Club, decide to finally meet in person during a destination Caribbean vacation to beautiful Enchanted Island. While of different ages and stages in life, these ladies have two things in common: 1) they are diehard romantics, and 2) they’ve been let down by love. As a wildly silly dare during her last night on the island, each heroine decides to stuff a note in a bottle addressed to her “dream hero” and cast it out to sea! Sending a message in a bottle can’t be any crazier than online or cell phone dating, or posting personal ads! And, who knows? One of these mysterious missives might actually lead to love…

  Join Meg, Tara, Nina, Clair, Jenny, Lisa, Hope, Kim, Rose, Lily, Faith and Amy, as they embark on the challenge of a lifetime: risking their hearts to accomplish their dreams.

  This is Clair’s story….

  For Clair Bennett, will her message in a bottle bring her the antidote to heartache, or the bad fortune that allows the man who broke her heart to hurt her yet again?

  Find all of the Beach Brides at Amazon!

  MEG (Julie Jarnagin)

  TARA (Ginny Baird)

  NINA (Stacey Joy Netzel)

  CLAIR (Grace Greene)

  JENNY (Melissa McClone)

  LISA (Denise Devine)

  HOPE (Aileen Fish)

  KIM (Magdalena Kilmer)

  ROSE (Shanna Hatfield)

  LILY (Ciara Knight)

  FAITH (Helen Kilmer Taylor)

  AMY (Raine English)

  Prologue

  ~ Clair’s message in the bottle ~

  Clair Bennett

  ClairIsAlreadyInLove@....

  Chapter One

  June ~ At Enchanted Island in the Caribbean

  Everyone was hiding something. Clair Bennett knew that was true for her, and didn’t doubt for a moment that it was true for each of her friends. Even the most open among them had something to hide, whether scary or joyful, and one’s first instinct was to protect oneself. Smiles could be genuine yet still serve as camouflage.

  Who was it that first suggested they each put a message in a bottle and toss them into the Caribbean Sea? She couldn’t recall. It seemed a silly gesture at the time. At first Clair dismissed the idea, but some of the gals were so excited about it, each imagining their dream of a guy, a sweetheart who’d come into their life and make it worth every heartache that had gone before. She couldn’t say no. She felt a little dishonest pretending she, too, was still in search of love, but she didn’t want to dampen anyone else’s enjoyment, so she played along.

  One of the gals gave her an empty bottle. Her friend, Lisa, gave her a pen. Clair saw a small card someone had left on a nearby table and she took it. She didn’t need much writing space. Nothing would come of this stunt anyway, she thought, as she wrote her name on the blank card. In fact, she made sure of it by adding a fake email address. No phone number and no physical address—no crazy stranger could contact her. At the last moment, she realized there was raised lettering on the other side of the card. She flipped it over.

  A business card from an attorney. She laughed. She didn’t need a new boyfriend and she didn’t need a lawyer either, thank goodness.

  Clair laughed again as they launched their bottles into the sea and didn’t give it another thought. As much fun as she was having with her friends, she was ready to go home to Virginia. That’s where her fiancé and her future waited. She and Sean Kilmer were building a business and a life together, and that’s where her heart was.

  Chapter Two

  April (Ten Months Later) at Emerald Isle, NC

  Clair dreamed that dream again. It didn’t replay every night but often enough to make her apprehensive each time she surrendered to sleep. In her dream, the warm, dry grains of sand shifted beneath her bare feet. The onshore ocean breeze caught in the full skirt of her satin gown and the lace trim teased the soft flesh of her shoulders and neck. The pure white gown reflected the sunlight, as did the water a few yards distant. Together, they nearly blinded her, so she kept her eyes down, focused on the red bouquet clasped in her hands, waiting to hear The Words. The red flowers were echoed on her manicured nails against a white base, and all that red and white was repeated in the gowns of the bridesmaids, the bling in their barefoot sandals, and in the scattering of rose petals around them. Finally, she looked up, blinking against the reflected light, only to find herself alone. Alone. There was no one to perform the service, no bridal party, and no groom. Suddenly great drops of water fell from a gray sky and marred the gown. At that point, as always, Clair struggled to wake, gasping when she found herself back in her moonlit childhood bedroom.

  She was crying. The wet blotches on the dream satin weren’t rain, but tears. She had reason to cry. Her heart had been broken and she felt it rip again each time she had to deal with the aftermath of the breakup. Everyone had been sympathetic, including the rental hall, the caterer and DJ—though they’d all refused to refund her deposits. The house she and Sean had rented together, the utilities and other expenses...Sean had been busy with the business so she handled the wedding preparations and non-business commitments. Her name had been on those agreements. Plus, she’d loaned Sean money for the business. Not official loans because they were in this endeavor together and in love, so there was no proof. Proof didn’t matter anyway. There wa
s no money left and no Sean.

  Her name hadn’t been on the business debt. For that, she was grateful.

  Nine months after the breakup she needed healing, not more sympathy or empty words, and she’d never wanted pity. She believed her dream wasn’t really about the canceled wedding, but rather an expression of grief for the loss of everything she had worked for, including what should have been the celebration of the business and the future she and Sean had built together.

  Every hope had turned into lies and betrayal.

  The loss of her real-life dream had been a shock. But continuing to dream of it or to regret it was foolish. Yet it kept coming back, bleak and unresolved, like the current state of her life.

  Clair dragged herself out of bed, peeked in on Darcy—still asleep—and headed to the kitchen, following the promising aroma of caffeine.

  Her sister Mallory was already dressed for work in a suit and low heels. She was pouring coffee into her travel cup when Clair walked in.

  “Morning,” Mallory said.

  Clair admired her older sister. Mallory always looked so together. Clair didn’t have that gift. Mallory’s dark hair was close-cropped and sleek. Her clothing never wrinkled or got food-spotted. Clair ran her fingers through her own long, curly brown mop of bedhead hair to get it out of her eyes.

  “You’re up early,” Clair said.

  “Early start for an early showing.” Mallory secured the lid on the cup. “These clients may tie up my whole day. I don’t know what time I’ll be home. Hopefully, for supper.”

  “Okay.” Clair wasn’t a morning person. She struggled to shake off her fuzzy brain state. It had been a rough night. The back door was already open. Through the screen the promise of a beautiful spring morning sailed in on a fresh breeze. One couldn’t see the ocean from here, but the salt air riding the onshore wind mixed with the usual coastal smells, and made its proximity unmistakable. She loved this place. All of it. The Outer Banks, the Crystal Coast, Bogue Banks, including this small bit of heaven that had been their parents’ home. It was only a few blocks from the beach, and was nestled in its own small haven of Live Oaks and shade.

  Mom and dad had been gone for more than three years.

  Clair went to stand at the open door. The lavender-colored azaleas, the early bloomers, produced abundant blossoms. They were sheltered by an ancient, twisted, Live Oak. The yard was a mix of shrubby green stuff and lean, fine sand—a challenge for gardeners. Their parents had put years of effort into the landscaping and now nature was deconstructing it, reclaiming it. Neither she nor Mallory made any pretense of being gardeners. They hadn’t tried to keep it up, not even her dad’s roses. He’d made growing roses an art, always talking about protecting the plants from the ocean winds and the salt air while still getting good sun, and keeping the soil amended, moist, and mulched. The straggly, thorny branches framing dad’s wrought iron bench were barely recognizable as rose bushes now. Last year, they’d produced hardly any blooms.

  Standing at the door, remembering, she could almost hear his voice again, an echo from the past, humming or whistling as he tended the garden, or calling out to his daughters or their mom to come see the latest bloom.

  The scent of her mother’s rose sachets seemed to surround her. As far back as Clair could remember, her mother had collected the petals from the rose bushes and arranged them on cookie sheets and pizza pans to dry. Those pans occupied every flat surface in the kitchen for several days. After the petals had dried, mom added in spices like cinnamon, ginger and allspice, and then stuffed the mixture into small packets made of netting and ribbon. She hung them in closets and tucked them into drawers. The scent of roses that permeated their home had been a fact of life. Clair missed it. She suspected the same was true for Mallory and for their youngest sister, Darcy.

  When their parents died, Clair was living in Virginia, working and falling in love with her boss, Sean. She was eighteen years older than Darcy. Mallory, two years older than Clair, was working in the Raleigh area and dealing with a divorce. Darcy was only six at the time, a late arrival to the family. She had always been a shy child, and, in many ways, an only child since her sisters were so much older. Just a cute, quiet kid, who became quieter after losing mom and dad, until she stopped speaking altogether. There were days when Clair wondered whether their little sister would ever be able to grow up and leave home, have her own life and be her own person. Mallory always got angry when Clair tried to discuss that possibility.

  “You okay?” Mallory asked.

  Clair turned away from the door to face the room and her sister. Mallory held a mug of coffee toward her and she accepted it gratefully.

  “How’d you sleep?” Mallory asked.

  “Fine. It’s just early. You’re the morning person. Not me.” She tried to end the sentence with a smile.

  Mallory said, “I have to run. These clients could mean a big payday for us. Darcy is still sleeping.” She stopped, a large leather business tote hanging from her arm, and fixed her gaze on Clair’s face. “She had a restless night, too.”

  It wasn’t an expression of complaint, but of sadness.

  After Mallory left for work, Clair closed the kitchen door despite the view and the tempting ocean smells, and locked it.

  Poor Mal, having to deal with two restless dreamers—Clair was sorry to have disturbed Mallory’s sleep because of her own inability to put the past behind her and move forward.

  She checked on her little sister. Darcy was still in bed, rolled up in her covers like a cocoon. Clair eased the door closed and took the opportunity to grab a quick shower and to dress. As she stood at the sink brushing her teeth, she avoided seeing her reflection. A year ago, this wasn’t where she thought she’d be now. She should’ve been in her own home, still a newlywed, enjoying life with Sean. Somehow, she’d screwed that up. Or Sean had.

  She wanted to assign blame, to understand what had happened. But had never been given that chance.

  Sean. Sean. She tested the sound of it, and yes, it hurt to think his name. After all these months, she should be past the pain. His name and memory should be no more than a tender spot she could sidestep with ease. But it wasn’t.

  Darcy’s bedroom door was ajar. Her bed was empty. The pillow lay on the floor and the sheets were awry. Clair hurried down the hall and to the kitchen, sure of where to find her. Her sister loved breakfast.

  She was already seated at the table. Her long blond hair was a mess from the restless night. Her pajamas were twisted and wrinkled.

  Clair smiled. She started their day with the usual greeting and question. “Good morning, Darcy. What would you like for breakfast?”

  No response was expected. None was given. The question was pointless because the menu never varied. Cheesy eggs and toast with cherry jelly. No orange juice. Darcy wouldn’t touch the stuff. She was a lemonade lover. She was almost ten, and though she was wordless, she was absolute about what she would or wouldn’t do, including what she would and wouldn’t eat. Usually cooperative, she balked when she disagreed with what was being asked of her, and when that happened no power or persuasion could move her.

  Darcy had no words. She was plenty smart, though. Clair was certain of it. But if you were hoping for a smile or nod or a temper tantrum, you were asking for disappointment. Clair believed that one day all the words Darcy had been hoarding for three years would burst out. She was eager for that day.

  Clair pulled the frying pan from the cabinet and fetched the egg carton and other items. She turned to her sister. “Darcy, can you set the table, please?”

  Darcy selected a fork from the silverware drawer and returned to sit at the table. Clair observed the action, but didn’t remark. Apparently, the table was now sufficiently set. Clair added plates and her own fork, then turned back to scramble the eggs and pop the bread into the toaster.

  When their parents died, Mallory accepted the role of legal guardian and returned home to raise Darcy. Clair gave her credit for never suggesting s
he should also return to help. Mallory had packed up her personal life, including her career selling real estate, and moved. She said markets could be tricky, but houses were houses wherever they were and having grown up here, she felt confident. Mallory made it seem very convenient and logical because that’s how she functioned. Later, Clair realized it was more than that. Mallory had never liked Sean. She would’ve known that involving Clair would likely involve Sean, too, and so she made the choice to shoulder most of the responsibility on her own.

  Neither had believed their little sister would stay silent, or that school and other normal kid activities would be impossible for her. The doctors said Darcy was healthy. The therapists put a name to her condition, but that changed nothing. Mallory believed that their sister’s wall—because it was a wall, invisible, yet as impenetrable as steel—would come down one day.

  Mallory was a responsible, productive business woman who never saw failure as failure, but rather as a signal to try something else. Clair had returned home last August, about a month after the breakup with Sean. Until that time, Mallory had followed the therapists’ instructions, including medications. All with no apparent change. About a month after Clair returned, Mallory said, “Enough. She’s not a guinea pig. Let’s give her time.”

  Clair had doubts. For months now, she’d seen Darcy’s wall, securely in place, day after day. She feared her sister had settled into this silent state. That the love and support she received from her older sisters might be part of the problem. Were they enabling her? Could this become permanent?

  Suppose her condition continued indefinitely? A trapped, panicky feeling rose in Clair.

  In silence, Clair and Darcy finished their breakfast. She wanted to shake her young sister up, motivate her, do something to bring her back to herself, to make her want to return to them instead of shutting them out.