It is the year 1900 — Carolina and Savannah Dickson are nineteen year old twins in the post-reconstruction South. With the help of a hefty inheritance, the girls and former slave, Cherry Wheeler, run a Bed and Breakfast in Savannah, Georgia, growing cotton on the surrounding land. Until now, they believed their father to have disappeared after they were born and their mother died during child birth. The arrival of a brother they believed dead raises unimaginable questions.
While their beauty and intelligence attracts many suitors, the twins don't want to get tied up with just any man and to prove their point, they’ll go to any length to find love, no matter how often they fail.
But what secrets lie in the past that could destroy their future?
“Well, good evening.”
Carolina almost dropped one of her grandmother’s china teacups.
Cape Miller stood in his slippers and spectacles, his arms full of books. His face was stubbly and unshaven, and the few flecks of gray in his hair shimmered in the moonlight. Carolina caught her breath. Cape Miller was a fine looking man.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I saw the light. The children are sleeping and I didn’t want to keep the lamp on in my room. I hope you don’t mind.”
Carolina forced a care-free smile. “Not at all—the sitting room here in the Inn is open for anyone, all night long. Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Miller.”
“You can call me Cape, if you like,” Cape dropped down into a wicker loveseat. “Mr. Miller makes me feel old.”
Cape Miller had a confident grin on his face that evening. The kind of look a man gets when he thinks he has caught a lady off her guard. And for all this talk of old, Cape moved like a young man. He was in fine health, or looked to be, and Carolina could make out the lines of his muscular arms beneath his shirt. It made her think of the sculpture David, by Michelangelo. There was a sketch that Burl Dickson had done of David years back, hanging in her sister’s bedroom.
Carolina fumbled about for something to offer Cape. “Would you like some tea? Or some coffee, perhaps?”
“No. No, thank you. It’ll keep me up all night. I have enough trouble sleeping.”
Carolina moved slowly into the sitting area, craning her neck to see what Cape was reading. “I have trouble sleeping at night, too, sometimes. My Grandma Jayne used to call me a night owl.”
Cape looked up and removed his glasses. He squinted while his eyes adjusted to the light. Carolina looked lovely in the simple frock she wore.
“I had a friend who called me a night owl, too.”
Carolina swallowed hard. “Your wife?”
Cape’s gaze never faltered. “Good guess.”