Fall Flip

by Denise Weimer

  But like before, Scott found he was the one receiving a blessing. And he did talk about Shelby. A lot.

  “We’re making chicken soup from scratch.”

  Amazing, savory smells gave credence to Lester’s announcement as he led Scott into the kitchen.

  He had Scott take the meat off the carcass he’d simmered in his Dutch oven, then begin the time-consuming process of dicing onion, celery, garlic, bay leaves, sage, thyme, rosemary, and marjoram. The tiny, flaky herbs kept escaping Scott’s thick fingers. As he chopped and Lester asked questions, Scott shared how he feared Shelby entertained the notion of rebooting “Dodson’s Do-Overs” with an emphasis on historical renovations.

  Lester seemed amused at the idea. “And with you as the male lead?”

  “I guess. With a name change, of course. Maybe Dodson and Matthews, in that order.”

  “And would that be so bad?” With slow and careful movements, waiting it out when a tremor took control of his hands, Lester added Scott’s ingredients to the chicken broth.

  “Yes!”

  “But you said you like working with her.”

  “Yeah, but not with a bunch of cameras pointed at us. When it’s just us, she can be herself. She doesn’t even know what that is yet. I think that show changed her. I don’t want it changing me. I don’t want to be some second-rate Chet Dodson. Call me old-fashioned, but I want her to want me around for me, not for some show.” The intensity of his own response surprised Scott.

  Lester’s wizened smile accepted his feelings without criticism. “Now that we’ve got the broth back to a boil, just keep it simmering, son. Some things can’t be rushed. While we’re waiting, we’ll make the noodles.”

  “Make the noodles?”

  “You want authentic flavor, you don’t use store bought.” Lester shoved a medium-sized mixing bowl in front of him. “Two cups of flour, half a teaspoon of salt. Make a well in the center, and add your egg in. Three yolks, and one whole egg. I’m afraid you’ll have to do those. I’ve cleaned one too many eggs off the floor in the last six months.”

  Watching Scott mix, Lester’s brow knit in concentration, and he indicated the exact moment to start adding water.

  “You in the kitchen reminds me of myself in the workshop.” Scott paused to glance at Lester. “I can see why you love this. It’s therapeutic.”

  “Have you told Shelby about your family’s business yet?”

  “I was about to earlier this week—”

  “Now, knead it. Every time you add water.”

  Scott plunged both hands into the bowl as he finished his sentence. “But now I’m afraid to. You should’ve seen her face when I told her my family lives on Milledge Road. If she knows the extent of my family’s success, it could fuel this ridiculous notion she has about re-starting the show.”

  “No, no, only a few tablespoons. Too much, too quick, and it won’t come out right. You just keep plugging away, son. She’ll soon be taking notice. But don’t be afraid to show her your assets when the time is right.”

  Waiting on the porch of Shelby’s four-square, Scott feared this wasn’t the type of “taking notice” he and Lester had counted on. Shelby’s red-nosed, make-up-free face looked far from happy that he stood there with a container of chicken noodle soup in his hand.

  “I’m a mess,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting anybody.”

  Her fluffy robe over PJ pants, tank top, and messy bun made her adorable, although Scott doubted Shelby would see it that way. She might not accept the food, much less invite him in. Scott tried not to sound desperate. “We made it from scratch. Lester knew you were sick and will be disappointed if you don’t try some.” As he awaited the verdict, he reached down to pet Maltie, who scrambled at his leg.

  A hand flecked with dried paint jerked the door open, and Angelina’s sunny face appeared behind her sister. “Oh, stop being such a grumpy pot and let him in, Shelby. Who turns down chicken noodle soup? Not me, and I’m not even sick.”

  “Hey, Angelina.” Scott took the opportunity to push past his frowning co-worker and follow her younger sister to the kitchen.

  “It smells marvelous,” Angelina said. “Have you eaten?”

  Shelby muttered as she trailed them through the living room. “Not sure this is professionally appropriate.”

  While Scott appreciated Shelby’s obvious taste and creative decorating touches, he found her proclivity to turn historic homes into show places for trendy furnishings and modern art a disappointing use of her talent. Ignoring that as well as Shelby’s comment, he responded to Angelina. “Not unless sampling the broth counts. But it should be great, at least if rolling out homemade egg noodles counts for anything.”

  “You went to that much trouble for Lester?” Shelby asked from behind him.

  Scott paused and looked at her, wondering if she could really be that dense. “And for you.” Now what made him admit that? Maybe the lingering effect of the emotional honesty oozing out of Lester’s kitchen.

  Shelby’s puffy blue eyes widened, then blinked.

  Scott cleared his throat as though to diffuse the warmth creeping up from his collar. “You are sick, right?”

  “Right. I just think it’s super nice … what you’re doing for Lester.”

  If Shelby could admire kindness to Lester rather than accept interest in herself, he’d have to take that for now. Scott smiled. “It’s my pleasure.”

  Shelby looked embarrassed as Angelina rummaged for bowls and crackers, but since she kept righting her drooping bun, maybe that was due to insecurity over her appearance. She sniffed and blotted her nose with a crumpled tissue.

  “I guess you were too sick to go to the party last night, then?” As he and Shelby took seats at the breakfast room table, Scott couldn’t keep from feeling hopeful. In any case, the need for a report on Tasha’s country club crowd event was one of the main reasons he’d shouldered his way inside rather than allowing Shelby to dismiss him. He was not impressed by Tasha’s posturing. Even though his parents had become successful, apart from church and business involvement in the community, they chose to lead quiet lives rather than getting caught up in the need to compare and compete.

  Shelby placed Maltie on the floor. “No, I made it, although I left a little early.”

  “Oh? Did you have fun?” Scott thanked Angelina as she set a napkin and spoon in front of him.

  “Yes. I caught up with a lot of my old friends.”

  “Did the Barnes case come up?”

  Shelby wrapped her fingers around the bowl Angelina slid in front of her as if to soak up the warmth. “Some of the people had read the article, but I got the opportunity to clarify that the reason I took the job was to honor the Wentworths’ long-standing commitment as a couple, and in turn, to honor Chet.”

  With that exalted sentiment, Scott wouldn’t be surprised if confetti fell from the ceiling. So she’d been lauded as the noble young widow.

  She sniffed and dabbed her nose with a tissue. “And of course, the spirit of that private endeavor, and not some unsolved case, calls for no cameras. I think they got it.” Shelby inhaled the aromatic vapors wafting up from her bowl, then dipped her spoon in and sipped as Angelina sat down. “Mm.”

  Scott grinned when Shelby closed her eyes. “Like it?”

  Shelby seemed unable to admit her approval directly to Scott. Instead, she said to Angelina, “Don’t tell Mom, but I think this is better than hers.”

  As Angelina sampled and the girls discussed the merits of the soup, Scott bowed his head to say a quick, silent blessing. Looking up, he realized both sisters watched him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make that awkward.”

  “No, it’s our fault. I’m afraid I’ve set a bad example with saying the blessing.” Shelby slid a loose strand of hair behind her ear and tucked her chin. “We’ll get back to that, won’t we, Angelina?”

  “Sure, but you’ll have to remind me. Dad and Aubrey don’t bother to pray before meals.”

  “Nor attend
church either, I dare say.” Shelby muttered the comment before blowing on her soup.

  “Nope.”

  “Well, next time we go to my church, we can try a different Sunday school class. And I hope you’ll find a good campus ministry to get involved with.”

  Angelina nodded, cutting her eyes at Scott, giving him the feeling she didn’t want to protest in front of him. Had Angelina not liked Shelby’s church?

  After an awkward beat of everyone eating in silence and trying not to slurp the hot liquid, Shelby spoke again in an overly bright voice. “Julian was there last night. I think it was good for him to see me.”

  Scott tried not to chuckle at her choice of wording. “Why is that?”

  “To realize I wasn’t shamed into hiding after your embarrassing debacle at his store, of course. Scrambling about on the floor disguised like a common thief!”

  “Hey, it was your idea to wear the hat and glasses.”

  Angelina pushed back from the table and cackled with laughter, earning Shelby’s scolding stare.

  “Well, you left me little choice when you barged in there.” “I thought you’d wait outside.”

  “Obviously, you needed my help.”

  Shelby seemed determined to argue. You’d almost think he’d offended her with his offer of dinner. Why? Crumbling another handful of crackers over his bowl, Scott returned to the subject of the most interest. “And the lawyer, was he at the party too?”

  “He was very charming.” A smug smile danced over Shelby’s lips. “He wanted me to stay for the karaoke and dancing, but I started feeling blah.”

  Angelina’s head popped up. “You said you came home early because he bored you to death talking about real estate law.”

  As Shelby turned red, Scott stifled a laugh, blessing the little sister’s honesty. He decided to save Shelby an explanation by gesturing to Angelina’s stained hands. “Shelby said you like to paint. What are you working on?”

  Angelina beamed. “A painting of Shelby’s house, as a little thank you for putting up with me.” She winked at her sister.

  “It’s so good, I asked her to paint the bungalow for the Wentworths too,” Shelby said to him. “Angelina’s style is similar to Caitlyn’s. I know I’m prejudiced, but I might say she’s even better. In any case, I can use both when I decorate.”

  “Well, that’s great.” Scott ignored the slight to Caitlyn. When Shelby and Caitlyn had met, he’d sensed they didn’t like each other, though he didn’t know how that could be on such a short acquaintance. Perhaps a certain tension was to be expected between two attractive, successful women.

  “After I finish the house paintings, I’ve got to get inspired.” Angelina waved her spoon in Scott’s direction, flinging a tiny drop of liquid onto his arm. He surreptitiously wiped it with his napkin as she kept talking. “If I come up with something cutting edge, my stepmother promised me a spot in her spring showing in Atlanta. She’ll invite some very influential people in the art community there. It could be a big break for me.”

  As the lines of Shelby’s body tightened with tension, Scott offered an alternative. “If your work is as good as Shelby says, I can introduce you to Caitlyn. No cutting edge needed, just what you do naturally. She’s looking at opening a bigger gallery right here in Augusta.”

  “Really? That would be awesome!” Slurping down the last of her soup, Angelina sprang up from the table. “Come on, I’ll show you what I’ve got so far.”

  Rising with hesitation, Scott glanced at Shelby.

  She smiled. “Go ahead. I can clean up.”

  Angelina’s art did possess a similar vibe to Caitlyn’s but demonstrated just enough less maturity that Caitlyn might view Angelina as a mentorship opportunity rather than a threat. He praised the golden, early autumn light bathing Shelby’s four-square in Angelina’s painting. A likeness of Maltie even waited on the steps.

  “Are you enjoying living here as opposed to the dorm?” Scott asked as Angelina restacked a line of paintings she’d shown him.

  “Oh yes, although it has its pros and cons. I don’t notice a mess the way Shelby does. One thing can be out of place, and it will drive her crazy. But I’m trying to keep stuff cleaned up. It helps that I’m on the second floor. And I think she’s trying to not be hard on me.”

  “I’m glad you can be here for her.”

  “She likes you, you know,” Angelina said as she led Scott into the hallway. At Scott’s shocked expression, she added, “Sorry that she’s kind of salty today, but the fact you can ruffle her feathers is a good thing. You’re pushing her boundaries. Not like Chet did, not loud and obnoxious. Subtler, but steady. And I like the food idea.”

  Scott didn’t have a chance to respond to Angelina’s unexpected observations or the exaggerated wink she gave him because as they descended the stairs, she started chattering loudly about how excited she was to meet Caitlyn.

  Shelby waited for them in the living room, Maltie in her arms. “I take it you approved?”

  Scott cleared his throat. “So much so that I feel sure Caitlyn could not only show your sister’s talent, but might be interested in helping her further develop it. I’ll talk with her.”

  “Okay, well, you’ve got me inspired! I’m going to paint.” Angelina accompanied her announcement with an enthusiastic wave from the bottom step. “Thanks for the soup, Scott.”

  Before he could say “you’re welcome,” Angelina disappeared around the landing.

  Shelby turned to him and shook her head with a smile. “She’s still so young, even though she went through a lot after the divorce. Mom tried hard to shelter her from the worst. I want to see her succeed with her dreams, and to realize she can do that without Aubrey. I don’t think she’s a good influence.”

  “I understand. I’m happy to do what I can to help. I know you’d like her to stay close after she graduates, especially since your mom moved.”

  “Yes, I would. Thank you.” Following him to the door, Shelby fell silent for a moment, then she said, “Scott, can I ask you something?”

  Scott’s heartbeat kicked up a notch, but he tried to keep his voice casual. “Sure.”

  “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  When faced with a potentially awkward conversation with a girl, Austin always advised maintaining the upper ground by countering with more questions. “Aren’t you used to people being nice to you?”

  “Well, yeah … mostly when they want something. Which was a lot when I had the show. Not so much now.”

  “Can’t somebody just be nice for the sake of being nice?” Scott shoved his hand in his pocket as Shelby reached for the doorknob. “It’s not all about getting ahead or using someone. I prefer to look at my business partnerships as friendships.”

  Swinging the door open, Shelby hid her face in Maltie’s fur. “Okay, as long as that’s all it is. Because you know … I’m not ready for anything else.”

  He tried not to react to the punch to his chest. “Of course not. I wanted us to be friends in high school. I’m glad we get the chance now.”

  “Me too.” Moving past the personal declaration with a brevity that revealed how little Shelby had invested, her eyes lit up. “I should mention, Tasha found a phone number online for Sharon Barnes’ older sister, who was married and living in Anderson, South Carolina, when Sharon married Charles. Tasha called her this morning.”

  Scott’s control slipped. “Why? This isn’t her business.”

  He just wanted to do this renovation in peace and forget a woman had ever disappeared from the house. Besides, this quest into the past diverted Shelby’s attention from meaningful work and relationships in the present.

  “Because she’s like a pit bull when she gets a hold of something. And she’s very protective of her friends.”

  He closed his eyes for a second. “Or she’s one of those hoping for something in the future.”

  “Scott, that was rude! You don’t even know Tasha.”

  Scott sighed. “You’re right
.” Just what I surmised in sixty seconds. “Although I don’t think the Wentworths received the best impression of her in the past either.”

  “What—”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Cutting off any questions or protests, Scott waved his hand to prompt Shelby along. “What did she find out?”

  Shelby pressed her lips together and adjusted Maltie’s weight. “The sister painted Charles as a controlling workaholic who wasn’t into women’s lib in the ’70s and resented his wife working.”

  “Enough to make him kill her?”

  She tilted her golden head. “Unless it was an accident.”

  “Look, despite my interest in old houses, I’m all for leaving the past in the past. More often than not, you stir up unwanted memories and skeletons, emotional if not physical.”

  “And I’m all for believing that you can’t move into the future with unsolved problems from the past.” Shelby stopped and stared straight ahead. “Probably because that’s not gone so well for me.”

  How did she do that? Draw him back in with sudden transparency a mere moment after pushing him away?

  “Yeah, but this isn’t about us. It’s about an old man sitting in a nursing home—a man who might be falsely suspected of killing his wife—and a son who grew up in the shadow of that. And without a mother. I’m trusting you’ll take the wishes of the Wentworths into account and not contact the Barnes family again. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Shelby smiled, but from the brief way she met his eyes, Scott feared there was something she wasn’t telling him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “West End Premium Pre-owned.” Shelby read the sign aloud as Tasha turned her yellow Corvette into the parking lot a few days later. “A used car dealership? This is the Barnes family business?”

  “West End’s reputation is well-established in the area as a luxury car dealer. They’d probably take exception to the term ‘used car dealership.’ Kind of like calling a flight attendant a stewardess these days.” Tasha parked and slid a strand of hair behind one ear. “I bought my own car here. That’s how I got a quick audience with the owner.”