"He won't talk to me." Elinor slapped down the papers she'd held. "I've called and gone by more times than I remember. But Charlie swears the old coot won't even discuss the contract offer with him. Every time Charlie tries to get him to talk to me, Daniel goes into such a rage that he sends his blood pressure through the roof."
They sat in a comfortable corner of Elinor's office, the sun filtering through long windows that looked out onto the cottage's front gallery.
Daisy chuckled. "That old man's always been a trial. I remember my mother talking about him. Her best friend, Eula, was a cook at Oakleigh back when they still had money."
"That's what it all comes down to," Elinor said with disgust. "Money. If it weren't for Daniel's incredible shortsightedness, he wouldn't be in the position to have to consider this offer. He could keep his precious plantation house and leave it to the local historical society when he dies."
"You really don't like the house, do you?" asked Daisy with a mixture of curiosity and compassion.
Elinor nibbled on her lower lip. "I don't know, Daisy. My father talked about Oakleigh as if it were the promised land. Heck, he couldn't wait to inherit it. That was his biggest dream." She sighed. "It seems like we spent my entire childhood chasing after Daddy's dreams. And most of them ended up drowned in the bottom of some bottle."
"So Oakleigh's still all tangled up with your daddy's foolishness?"
"I suppose so," Elinor agreed. "That's what makes this whole thing with the contract and power of attorney so bizarre. My grandfather and father spent their lives arguing over this prize. I never wanted it. And, now, he's thrown it in my lap."
"Who do you think made the offer to buy Oakleigh?" Curiosity gleamed in her friend's eyes.
Elinor shrugged. "I don't have a clue. The broker said his client 'preferred to remain anonymous.' Not that it really matters. If my grandfather is serious about selling, we need to take the best offer we can get."
"It sounds to me," Daisy said, "as if Daniel's dumping his mess on you."
"I know," Elinor sighed. "I'd feel like strangling him except that I think this is his way of finally acknowledging our relationship. It's certainly the first indication he's ever given of thinking of me as anything but a pest."
"I think it's just his way of making others deal with it," Daisy disagreed. "That old man isn't smart enough to recognize what a pearl he has for a granddaughter."
"Thanks, Daisy." Elinor grinned. "You're just the support a girl needs in her time of trouble."
Daisy leaned back, tilting her chair precariously on two legs. "You're welcome, honey. But if it were me, I'd rather be supported by someone like that hunky Cole Whittier." Her faded blue eyes got dreamy. "He always was a nice-looking boy, but I never thought he'd grow up so fine."
"Daisy, you're as bad as the women down at the Cut 'N' Curl," Elinor chided, leaning over to make a note on the stack of paper in front of her. "I'd think you'd have more maturity."
"I'm very mature," Daisy said with dignity, her sneaker-clad foot balancing on the pine-planked floor. "But I'm not dead, and neither are you."
"No, and I'm not interested in Cole Whittier," retorted Elinor.
Daisy's chair legs hit the floor. "Well, you should be," she declared with asperity. "Not only is he a darned near perfect specimen of manhood, he's also just the guy to help you with this mess about selling Oakleigh."
"Cole?"
"Yes, Cole," Daisy declared. "Who else has more experience with business in this town?"
"This is a real estate matter," Elinor stressed. "I can't imagine why Cole could have any reason to know the best price for a decrepit plantation house."
"You never know," exclaimed Daisy piously. "Answers have come from more unlikely places."
"Not in my experience," Elinor said dryly. "And I don't particularly want to ask Cole Whittier any favors."
"Why not?" Daisy questioned.
"I don't want to be obligated to him, that's all," Elinor said, turning away to look for a form on her desk.
"There are worse people you could be obligated to," Daisy proclaimed. "I knew Cole back when all he could afford to drive was a tractor, and I'd bet on his integrity in a minute."
"Oh, Daisy," Elinor sighed. "Don't tell me you're in favor of the factory being built in Bayville."
"Why shouldn't I be?" the older woman asked. "It'll be a godsend for this town." She looked at Elinor with understanding eyes. "The trouble with you is that you're afraid to trust any man."
"That's not true." Elinor straightened the papers on the table. "I just don't trust Cole. He's like the men my father used to work for, only he's better looking. From what I can see, the majority of big businessmen are driven by the lure of the almighty buck."
"Well, I think you're not giving Cole a chance," Daisy declared.
Just then, a movement in the front yard caught Elinor's eye as she glanced out the window.
"Darn it, Daisy," Elinor said, leaning forward to peer discreetly out the window, "you've conjured him up." Seconds later, footsteps could be heard on the gallery.
"Who?" Daisy joined her at the window. "Cole?"
"Yes, Cole." Elinor quickly straightened the piles of paper on the table, wishing she'd worn something more professional than stretch pants and a tunic this morning. A business suit might help her counteract the disastrous effect Cole seemed to have on her.
"Well, gosh," Daisy said as a knock sounded at the front door. "I wish I'd worn something nicer this morning."
Elinor threw her a fulminating glance as she stalked out of the office to answer the door.
Swinging back the heavy front door, she positioned a pleasant, neutral smile on her face, trying to ignore the sudden thundering of her heart.
"Good morning, Elinor."
He had the bluest eyes. "Good morning, Cole," she responded hoping her voice didn't sound unnaturally high.
Standing in the doorway with the light behind him, he looked altogether too appetizing, his hair gilded a burnished gold.