boxes from up here, but you’re definitely more able to carry them.”
She had a soft laugh, not the kind I expected from her, and the way her eyes moved to my arms made my blood heat.
I pulled the truck’s tailgate down and braced myself for the load. The boxes were heavier than they looked but not uncomfortably heavy, and I set them down on the ground at the foot of the cabin’s stairs. There were only four boxes and a cooler of food. Haven straightened after she handed me the last one, her hands moving to her back, her eyes going to the sky.
“How do you know it won’t rain?” she asked.
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
She watched the sky, but I watched her face, my eyes studying the way her sun-bleached hair curled around her temples in the humidity. The wavy mass looked like it tangled easily.
“You can tell by the way the air feels,” I told her.
She looked down, and our eyes met. “You have an interest in the weather?”
I shrugged. “It’s a hobby.”
Haven stooped, swinging her long legs over the end of the lowered tailgate, and sat.
She glanced at me. “Sometimes hobbies become careers.”
I pulled at my T-shirt, letting the harsher breezes moving in from the south cool my sweat dampened skin.
“In my family, business comes first, hobbies come second.”
She stared down the sloping yard at the river. Only a thin line of muddy water could be seen from where she sat, the trees mostly obscuring it. Older leaves from the spring were blown toward the ground, falling like green-colored snow. Newer, greener leaves would replace them. It was June. The summer would get hotter, the leaves fuller and heavier. The over-sweet scent of honeysuckle mixed with the damp, sometimes putrid scent of wet moss and standing water surrounded us.
“You’re old money, right? The Braydens made their fortune off cotton, I understand,” she said, her tone inquiring.
My gaze followed hers to the river. “We did, but with the passing of time, the Civil War, and the end of slavery, my family adapted with the times. We began to invest our money in different business ventures, leaning more toward that than cotton. We still own a plantation, but there’s nothing grown on it now. We make all of our money off of investments.”
I didn’t ask her how she knew about my family. Everyone knew about my family.
“Ah, the power of business,” she murmured. “A family who made their fortune off the backs of slaves.”
I didn’t miss the sarcasm in her voice, and I eyed her. “The Civil War has long been over, and aren’t you a little judgmental being fresh out of high school? Shouldn’t you be worried about your nails or shoes or something?”
She snorted, and even though it shouldn’t have sounded endearing, it did. “Does it look like I ever have my nails done? And I wouldn’t know the difference between a pair of flip flops and a pair of ... of ...”
“Gucci or Prada?” I supplied.
She threw me a look. “Yeah, that.”
I fought a smile. Something told me she wouldn’t be amused by my amusement. “If it makes you feel any better, my family didn’t use slave labor for several years before the Civil War. One of my great grandfathers was an advocate for slavery while his son abhorred it. I had one uncle who fought for the Confederacy and one for the Union. The typical split family back then.”
Haven sighed, her shoulders shrugging. “It was stupid anyway.” She looked at me. “My bringing it up, that is. At least you have a family tree you can trace.”
She jumped off the tailgate then, her head at my chest.
“And you can’t trace yours?” I asked.
She laughed. “You mean past my grandparents and the amazing number of cousins? Umm, no. I guess I would know more if I had the money to look, but tracing your family lineage requires a search and a willing family.”
She took a step toward the river.
I followed her. “It’s just you and your mom then?”
She didn’t answer me, her eyes on
She had a soft laugh, not the kind I expected from her, and the way her eyes moved to my arms made my blood heat.
I pulled the truck’s tailgate down and braced myself for the load. The boxes were heavier than they looked but not uncomfortably heavy, and I set them down on the ground at the foot of the cabin’s stairs. There were only four boxes and a cooler of food. Haven straightened after she handed me the last one, her hands moving to her back, her eyes going to the sky.
“How do you know it won’t rain?” she asked.
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
She watched the sky, but I watched her face, my eyes studying the way her sun-bleached hair curled around her temples in the humidity. The wavy mass looked like it tangled easily.
“You can tell by the way the air feels,” I told her.
She looked down, and our eyes met. “You have an interest in the weather?”
I shrugged. “It’s a hobby.”
Haven stooped, swinging her long legs over the end of the lowered tailgate, and sat.
She glanced at me. “Sometimes hobbies become careers.”
I pulled at my T-shirt, letting the harsher breezes moving in from the south cool my sweat dampened skin.
“In my family, business comes first, hobbies come second.”
She stared down the sloping yard at the river. Only a thin line of muddy water could be seen from where she sat, the trees mostly obscuring it. Older leaves from the spring were blown toward the ground, falling like green-colored snow. Newer, greener leaves would replace them. It was June. The summer would get hotter, the leaves fuller and heavier. The over-sweet scent of honeysuckle mixed with the damp, sometimes putrid scent of wet moss and standing water surrounded us.
“You’re old money, right? The Braydens made their fortune off cotton, I understand,” she said, her tone inquiring.
My gaze followed hers to the river. “We did, but with the passing of time, the Civil War, and the end of slavery, my family adapted with the times. We began to invest our money in different business ventures, leaning more toward that than cotton. We still own a plantation, but there’s nothing grown on it now. We make all of our money off of investments.”
I didn’t ask her how she knew about my family. Everyone knew about my family.
“Ah, the power of business,” she murmured. “A family who made their fortune off the backs of slaves.”
I didn’t miss the sarcasm in her voice, and I eyed her. “The Civil War has long been over, and aren’t you a little judgmental being fresh out of high school? Shouldn’t you be worried about your nails or shoes or something?”
She snorted, and even though it shouldn’t have sounded endearing, it did. “Does it look like I ever have my nails done? And I wouldn’t know the difference between a pair of flip flops and a pair of ... of ...”
“Gucci or Prada?” I supplied.
She threw me a look. “Yeah, that.”
I fought a smile. Something told me she wouldn’t be amused by my amusement. “If it makes you feel any better, my family didn’t use slave labor for several years before the Civil War. One of my great grandfathers was an advocate for slavery while his son abhorred it. I had one uncle who fought for the Confederacy and one for the Union. The typical split family back then.”
Haven sighed, her shoulders shrugging. “It was stupid anyway.” She looked at me. “My bringing it up, that is. At least you have a family tree you can trace.”
She jumped off the tailgate then, her head at my chest.
“And you can’t trace yours?” I asked.
She laughed. “You mean past my grandparents and the amazing number of cousins? Umm, no. I guess I would know more if I had the money to look, but tracing your family lineage requires a search and a willing family.”
She took a step toward the river.
I followed her. “It’s just you and your mom then?”
She didn’t answer me, her eyes on
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