LITMIR.BIZ

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had purchased on behalf of the Cole-family-owned conglomerate. Not only had Harry bought the land, but five years earlier he’d also brokered a deal with a Ugandan cotton grower for Diego, making ColeDiz the biggest family-owned agribusiness in the United States.

      Subsequently an engineering company had drained the swampy area to prepare it for growing and processing tea leaves, all the while Joseph insisting they not upset the ecological balance of region’s indigenous wildlife.

      He’d argued with his cousin that he was a lawyer, not a farmer, but Diego was quick to remind him that he also wasn’t a farmer, yet had familiarized himself with the entire process of growing and harvesting coffee, bananas and cotton. Joseph had been under the impression that tea wasn’t grown in the States, but Diego told him about the tea garden on Wadmalaw Island, South Carolina. Once ColeDiz Tea Company harvested their first yield, there would be not one, but two tea gardens in the United States.

      It’d taken him a while, but he had adjusted to spending the last two years of his life in Belize, Mexico, Jamaica, Puerto Rico and Brazil, educating himself with the cycle of planting, cultivation, harvesting and processing coffee and bananas in order to learn everything he could about the different varieties.

      It hadn’t been only about planting trees, but also soil quality, insect control and irrigation. He had logged thousands of hours in the air, crossed various time zones and grown accustomed to sleeping in strange beds and ordering room service. Several of his college buddies and fraternity brothers claimed they envied his jet-setting lifestyle, but Joseph had been quick to remind them it was work and not fun.

      However, he did take time off to have some fun when he stayed with his landscape-architect cousin Regina Spencer in Bahia, Brazil. Regina and her pediatrician husband hadn’t been to Carnival in years, yet had offered to accompany him. Joseph witnessed firsthand the once-in-a-lifetime frivolity. Partying nonstop for three days offset the months, weeks, days and hours he spent learning to become a farmer.

      Now he was back in Charleston to oversee the first planting of ColeDiz Tea Company’s tea garden. He’d grown fond of the incredibly beautiful historic port city and its friendly populace. He returned not as an attorney but as a farmer and an astute businessman. Although assigned to the legal department, he’d been groomed to eventually take over as CEO when Diego retired. His cousin failed to realize that Joseph preferred the legal component to running a company. Whether it was negotiating contracts or spending hours researching and interpreting international tariffs, law had become his jealous mistress.

      He didn’t want to think about jealous mistresses or past relationships. His four-year liaison with Kiara Solis had run its course the third day into a two-week Hawaiian vacation when he’d tried to make the best of what had become a highly volatile situation.

      Kiara had been under the impression they were going on a romantic holiday where he would propose, although he’d told her repeatedly he hadn’t been ready for marriage. At twenty-eight his life wasn’t stable. He’d just resigned his position clerking for a Florida appellate judge to join ColeDiz. He had also purchased land in Palm Beach with plans to build a home, but even that had been placed on hold until after he curtailed traveling.

      Joseph’s father had lectured him about dating a woman for more than two years without committing to a future together. His father failed to understand that although he loved Kiara he hadn’t been in love with her. If he had, there was no doubt he would’ve married her.

      Joseph swam the length of the pool, then pulled himself up at the shallow end. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling from the exertion. Picking up a towel from the stack on a wooden bench, he dried off before pulling on his shorts and T-shirt. Swimming was the perfect alternative to sitting up watching late-night infomercials.

      Joseph walked to the bank of elevators. Living in the penthouse wasn’t a perk but a requisite befitting his lifestyle. He’d grown up privileged, and having the best life had to offer was something for which he never apologized. As a Cole and a member of the purportedly wealthiest African-American family in the country, he accepted everything that went along with the distinction.

      Kiara had called him a “spoiled rich boy” and a few other epithets that he would never repeat to anyone, and it was her vicious and spiteful outburst that reminded him why he’d been reluctant to ask her to marry him. It hadn’t been the first time Kiara had gone off on him when she couldn’t get her way, but it was the last time Joseph decided to turn the other cheek. Although laid-back and easygoing, he wasn’t a masochist.

      He was certain his parents had had their disagreements, yet he couldn’t remember a time he was privy to them. Joseph shook his head as he stepped out of the elevator car, and walked to his apartment, unlocking the door. He vowed to remain single until he met the woman with whom he felt he wanted to spend his life. After all, he was only thirty and in no immediate hurry to settle down and start a family.

      Climbing the staircase to the second level, he stripped off his clothes, leaving them in a hamper, and then stepped into the shower. By the time Joseph got into bed, he had mentally prepared himself to oversee the project he’d been entrusted with. Despite his initial objection to setting up a tea garden, he knew failure was not an option.

      * * *

      Crystal woke rested and clearheaded. Her appointment with Algernon was scheduled for nine in the hotel restaurant; he’d informed her they would meet with the contractor in downtown Charleston to inspect the interiors of the recently restored properties.

      When she first came to see the abandoned buildings, she’d found herself hard-pressed to contain her excitement. Despite the faded, peeling wallpaper, warped floors, weakened window sashes and the pervasive odor of mold, she was able to imagine the beauty and elegance of the renovated spaces. Algernon, or Al, as he insisted she call him, wanted the interior to replicate the furnishings of 1800s Lowcountry city residences.

      After brewing a cup of coffee, she unpacked, putting everything away, then stepped into the Jacuzzi for a leisurely soak. The hands on the clock on the bathroom’s vanity had inched closer to eight-fifteen when she stepped out of the tub. At eight forty-five she entered the restaurant off the hotel lobby, the hostess greeting her with a friendly smile.

      “Good morning, ma’am. Are you a guest?”

      Crystal nodded. “Yes, I am.”

      “What is your room number?”

      “I’m in penthouse two.”

      The hostess punched several keys on a computer. “Ms. Eaton?”

      “Yes,” she confirmed. “I have an appointment to meet Mr. Beaumont here at nine.”

      “Ms. Eaton, I don’t know if anyone told you, but as an elite guest you’ll take your meals in the private dining room. Mr. Beaumont will meet you there.” The young woman motioned to a passing waiter. “Patrick, please escort Ms. Eaton to Mr. Beaumont’s table.”

      Crystal followed the waiter to the rear of the restaurant and to a door with a plaque reading Elite Hotel Guests Only. The space was half the size of the restaurant for other hotel guests and the general public, and furnished in the manner of a formal dining room with cloth-covered tables and place settings of china, silver and crystal. Classical music flowed from hidden speakers as waitstaff moved silently, efficiently picking up and setting down dishes.

      She thanked the waiter when he pulled out a chair at a table in an alcove, seating her at the same time her cell phone chimed softly. Reaching into her handbag, Crystal retrieved the phone and glanced at the display. It was Algernon. Tapping in her pass code, she answered the call.

      “Good morning, Al.”

      “Crystal. I’m glad I reached you. I rang your room, but it went directly to voice mail. I’m on my way to the airport to catch a flight to Vancouver. My daughter was injured on a movie set, and even though I’m told it isn’t serious, I need to see her. I’m not certain when I’ll be back, but I’ll keep you updated. I’m sorry you had to come and—”

      “Please don’t apologize,” Crystal

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