A Southern Reunion. Lenora Worth

for that, at least. And he’d do his best to save this plantation.

      Because he knew what he really wanted couldn’t happen.

      He’d never have Cassie back in his arms again.

      CASSIE STEPPED OUT OF THE shower and draped a big, fluffy white towel around her body. Her room had been redecorated to look updated and fresh but the memories remained, dark and misty and edged in a lacy haze of pain. But somebody had remembered how much she loved the color green. Probably Teresa.

      The cherry-wood four-poster bed had been in her family for generations and was as solid as the day it had been hand-built. A bright green-and-peach floral comforter matched the dainty green brocade chaise lounge sitting near the French doors that opened out onto the upstairs gallery. Bright red, green and peach cushions lay against the chaise and across the shams on the bed. A mint-green chenille throw also lay across the chaise.

      The matching mahogany dresser and vanity were also antique, but polished to a high sheen. The sweet fresh scents of lemon oil and vanilla merged with Cassie’s magnolia-blossom shower gel to make the big square room smell like a summer garden.

      She walked barefoot across the plush cream carpet, her toes digging into the heavy threads. When she reached the big double windows that looked out onto the backyard, she remembered the first time she’d seen Cal. She’d been standing right out there on the porch, but her room had been done up in deep pinks, bright greens and crisp white back then, with a rose-and-camellia motif mixed in with rock-star posters and cheerleading memorabilia.

      But on that summer day, she’d forgotten all of her teenage dreams as she stood watching Cal strolling up the dirt lane from the stables, guiding a beautiful chestnut gelding. He’d been dressed in the standard jeans and T-shirt that he always wore when working. His dark hair had been longer and curling around his face and forehead. When he’d stopped and looked right up at her, Cassie had felt like the princess in the tower waiting for her forbidden prince. After that, their relationship had taken on a dreamy fairy-tale kind of intensity.

      But her fairy tale had not ended happily ever after.

      And she’d learned that Cal Collins was no prince, even if the gelding he was escorting had become her own prized horse—aptly named Heathcliff, after the character in one of her favorite classic books, Wuthering Heights.

      Cassie closed her eyes now, swallowing back the sweet desire she remembered from that day. It wasn’t so much a physical desire, even though Cal certainly won out over all of the bad-boy rock stars she had plastered on the wall. It was more of a desire to find out who this man was, to ask him how he’d found his way to Camellia Plantation. Sheltered and pampered, she longed to get to know the mysterious older boy who had not come from any of the neighboring plantations and farms, a boy who hadn’t gone to prep school with her or driven some fancy sports car bought with his daddy’s old money. She wouldn’t find Cal Collins at the cotillion or any of the debutante balls.

      In other words, Cal represented everything she’d been sheltered from and protected from—the real world.

      And Cassie so wanted to break away and find that real world. But reality wasn’t so exciting after the way their summer had ended.

      And now, her reality was centered on watching her estranged father die and finding out why Cal was really back here. She wasn’t buying that he’d returned for her sake. They’d both moved on with their lives after that long-ago summer. And there was no going back. Ever.

      Her cell phone rang, causing her to whirl and patter over to the rolltop desk on the far wall, where she’d left her big leather tote bag and her sketch pads.

      Looking down at the number on the phone, Cassie grimaced. Ned Patterson. When would her ex figure out that they were finished? Why couldn’t she love him the way he deserved to be loved? Pushing thoughts of Cal away, she ignored the incoming call. Ned was dreamy and debonair, everything a woman could ask for. But theirs had been a chaotic kind of relationship. Cassie had finally ended things, which she’d needed to do a long time ago. Because she didn’t want to marry Ned.

      Was her love life destined for self-destruction with every man she met?

      Cassie threw down the phone, determined to put Ned—and Cal…for now—out of her mind. She hurried back into the big bathroom with the claw-foot tub and the old marble vanity, combed out her hair and threw on the barest of makeup. After drying her hair, she put on a white button-up shirt and skinny jeans with a pair of black flats then gathered her courage to return downstairs.

      But what would she do while here? She stopped to stare down at her phone, thinking it looked out of place on the century-old desk. Did she dare sit with her father and try to talk to him? She had plenty of work to keep her busy and a whole slew of phone messages to wade through, some regarding business, some from concerned friends and…that one from Ned.

      She deleted Ned’s message right away. She didn’t need to listen to his pleas or his promises anymore. Next, she called her assistant, Rae.

      “Cassie, how are you?”

      Rae’s deep rich voice always soothed Cassie. They’d met in college at the University of Georgia in their freshmen year. Rae, a soulful expression on her cocoa-colored face, had taken one look at Cassie and become her mentor and soul mate.

      “Girl, you look like you are as lost as a little kitty cat,” Rae had said at the time.

      “I am,” Cassie had responded. Then she’d burst into tears.

      Over coffee in a nearby coffeehouse, she’d blurted out all of her woes, including her mother’s horrid death and her father’s silent treatment and finding the man she loved in the arms of another woman. And Rae Randolph had listened and advised and suggested and…become a fast friend. On those days when Cassie wanted to give up, especially the holidays, Rae had been her rock. Following those awkward attempts to go home during her freshman year, she’d spent most of her holidays and summers with Rae’s family in Atlanta.

      Rae’s mother, Louise, had helped Cassie get a summer job in a fashionable Buckhead department store. And since Rae’s mother sewed most of their clothes, Cassie was allowed to use them for models for her own designs. She learned how to be an expert seamstress under Louise Randolph’s keen eye. That experience had helped her become a better designer.

      After college, they remained friends, both seeking work within the fashion industry. Rae had been there when Cassie sold her first designs in trade shows and obscure boutiques. So it was only natural that Rae would become her head assistant and confidante and advisor when Cassie finally branched out on her own three years ago with Cassie’s Closet.

      “I’m okay, Rae Rae,” Cassie said now, wishing she could have brought Rae with her. “It’s been so hard, coming back, facing my father. He’s sick—much worse than I realized.”

      “I think you’re in the right place,” Rae responded, her signature hoop earrings jingling through the airwaves. “You can’t let him pass on without making amends and forgiving, girl.”

      Rae had a way of stating the truth in soft, flowing euphemisms. She’d never tell Cassie her father was dying. No, he was just passing on. Passing on to somewhere with no pain and no regrets, according to Rae’s reassuring words when Cassie had first received the call regarding his illness.

      “Rae, Cal is here, too.”

      “Huh?”

      “Yes, exactly. Cal Collins is back here, working for my father. He’s the plantation foreman, which means he’s pretty much running the whole show.”

      “Get outta here.”

      “I wish I could. He’s here and he’s single. He never married Marsha. They never had a child together. Can you believe that?”

      “I mean,” Rae said, louder this time, “get outta here and tell me that so ain’t happening.”

      “It’s happening, all right. We’ve already had a fight of sorts. I was a bit mean to him, but