Trading Hearts is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons in coincidental. Photo courtesy of www.islandhideaways.com.
An hour later, Jasmine sat at the bar of Café Noir in St. Lawrence Gap, fuming over a piña colada. How dare that upstart of a niece speak to her like that? Just because she had her own business and drove a fancy Jeep didn’t give her the right to treat her like dirt!
Her inner tirade was broken by the sound of a male calling her name, and she turned to see Matthew Sealy standing next to her bar stool.
“Jasmine? It is you! When did you come in?” he asked as he gave her a warm hug.
She grinned, her spirits lifted for the moment. “Earlier today. It wasn’t the warmest of homecomings so I decided to get out of the house for a bit.”
The young man ordered a gin and tonic from the bartender and drink in hand, beckoned to Jasmine to follow him to a booth at the back of the room. As they wound their way through the dimly lit room, Jasmine was amused to see that for a Wednesday night, the bar was filled with as many locals as tourists. Probably working up the nerve to go back to their dead-end jobs tomorrow, she thought.
After surveying the room and nodding her head to the reggae music playing on the overhead speakers, she fixed her eyes on her companion. “So, what brings you to the Gap on a work night?”
Matthew took a gulp of his drink before replying. “I had a business dinner up the street and I didn’t feel like heading home yet.”
Jasmine eyed his lined face and receding hairline critically. Matthew was still a good looking guy, but he was a far cry from the Adonis she remembered when he dated Natasha.
“How long have you been having trouble at home?” she asked bluntly.
He paused with the tumbler halfway to his mouth and placed it back on the table wordlessly.
Jasmine pressed further. “Matthew, I may not be as smart as you lawyers but I do know that happily married men don’t hang out in bars drinking by themselves.”
He shrugged, turning the glass slowly in his hands. “It’s nothing that won’t blow over eventually. It always does.”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “From what you were saying before I take it the Taylor clan wasn’t too happy to see you?”
She snorted angrily, and gave him the short version of what had occurred earlier that evening.
The man regarded her thoughtfully. “Jasmine, I remember years ago Frank was suggesting that he buy out your share of the property. Did you do it?”
She shook her head. “I was traveling a lot and never got around to hiring a lawyer and all that stuff. Why?”
He leaned over, suddenly excited. “So you’re telling me that you and Frank still jointly own the Taylor property?”
“Yes, seeing as it was left to both of us by our mother. Why are you asking all these questions?” she asked, puzzled.
Matthew raised a finger and fished his cell phone from his pocket. “Mr. Goddard, sorry for calling you at home, sir,” he said after a brief pause, “but there’s someone I need you to meet.”
Trading Hearts is the sole property of Bajegirl. Any reproduction of this story in any form without the author's permission is prohibited.
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