Chesapeake Summer Read Free

spectacular sunset views of the Chesapeake was the kind of restaurant that accommodated anyone with money to spend, no matter how casually or sophisticated he dressed. The bar, for those who preferred golf shirts and slacks as well as a lighter menu, could be found on the first floor. A spiral staircase led to the legendary restaurant on the second level. Complete with flickering candlelight, white tablecloths and the soft dance music of a bygone era, it offered its patrons the same comforts they enjoyed at home: elegance, seclusion and discretion.
    Two couples shared the best table on the second floor. Cole and Nola Ruth Delacourte had barely touched their gin and tonics. Amanda Wentworth sipped her sherry. Quentin Wentworth was well into his second martini.
    Nola Ruth’s eyes met her husband’s. The message was clear. How long do we have to stay?
    Cole barely lifted his shoulders.
    Nola Ruth summoned the warm delta charm ingrained in her from birth. “Amanda, tell us about Tracy and Tess. Are you enjoying their stay?”
    Amanda was about to open her mouth when the judge intervened. “We’d enjoy it a whole lot more if she planned on leaving anytime soon.”
    Nola Ruth looked bewildered. “I beg your pardon?”
    â€œOur Tracy has decided to get a divorce. Yes, sirree, a dee vorce. ” He stretched out the word.
    â€œI’m so sorry,” Nola Ruth murmured. “How terrible for her.”
    The judge leaned forward. “What do you make of these kids, Cole? I’ve a good mind to deny their request, make ’em get along, tie ’em up together until they’re good and ready to come to terms. Divorce.” He shook his head. “What’s the matter with young people today? Why can’t they stay married like the rest of us?”
    â€œMaybe the time for tying up was before the marriage,” Cole replied dryly.
    â€œI told her not to hook up with that boy in the first place,” Quentin continued. “The Hennesseys are nothing more than dockworkers.’
    Nola Ruth bit her lip and remained silent, a Herculean feat considering that Russ Hennessey had courted her own daughter up until he’d gone away to school. That was before Libba had run off to California with Eric Richards, an actor. Nola Ruth shuddered, she still couldn’t bring herself to think of, much less utter, her son-in-law’s name.
    Cole was less inclined to keep his mouth shut. “There’s nothing wrong with Russ Hennessey. He’s done his family proud. I’m sorry to hear about the breakup, especially since they have a child.”
    Amanda Wentworth’s thin-lipped mouth frowned in disapproval. “Tracy and Tess will be fine.” She changed the subject. “You haven’t told us about Libba Jane. How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”
    â€œWe flew out to California when the baby was born,” Nola Ruth replied shortly. “Libba’s in graduate school. We’re very proud of her.”
    â€œDaughters,” snorted Quentin. “More trouble than they’re worth. Give me a son any day.”
    Cole laughed. “We’re a bit long in the tooth to be starting over.”
    Amanda looked pointedly at her husband. “One would think.”
    A waiter approached the table. Wentworth waved him away. “I had an ulterior motive when I asked you to dinner, Cole.”
    â€œWhy am I not surprised?”
    â€œI intend to enter the senate race,” Wentworth continued. “I’d like your support.”
    Nola Ruth’s eyes widened, huge chocolate drops in the cream of her face. “But we’re Democrats, Quentin.”
    â€œPeople change parties.”
    â€œWe don’t,” replied Nola Ruth, “especially when we agree on everything Clayton Duval stands for.”
    â€œWhat about you, Cole? Does Nola Ruth speak for both of you?”
    Cole Delacourte smiled. “You’ve been talking