by Nan Dixon
“Interesting marketing angle,” he said.
She waved her hand. “It fits our brand. My sisters and I run the place, so we do what we can to play that up.”
Gray took a few more bites of the best meal he’d had in months. Abby was a fantastic cook. At least Derrick hadn’t steered him wrong when he’d recommended Fitzgerald House.
“It sounds like you’re planning some renovations,” he said.
Her expression fell away like dirt being stripped by a power washer. “We’re hoping to work on the third floor.”
“Hoping?”
“There’s a lot of water damage up there.” She absently shook her head, the ends of her hair brushing the tops of her breasts.
“You had roof problems?” He forced his gaze back up to her face.
“In the fifties.” She nodded. “They repaired the roof but didn’t fix the damage. I guess they weren’t using those rooms at the time.”
When she’d talked to her sister, she’d said it was bad. Had she meant the damage or the cost?
And why should he care? The sections of Fitzgerald House he’d seen were clean and well maintained. That was all that should concern him.
But renovations were his business. His parents’ library restoration had gotten him hooked on rehab and real estate. “So what are your plans for the third floor?”
“More guest rooms.” She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table.
He ate while she talked. He plied her with questions because it was fun to see her eyes sparkle. Not that it took much prodding. It was easy to see that Abby really loved this old mansion. Loved what she and her sisters were creating.
Strange to think of working with your family.
“When do you start?” he asked.
She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Right now we’re exploring the costs.”
She nibbled on her lip again.
Gray looked down at his plate, unwilling to watch her teeth work over that pink lip. He blinked in surprise. His plate was empty, though he didn’t remember finishing.
Abby noticed and brought over a tray of bars.
“Coffee?” she asked.
“Decaf, if you have it.”
Abby ground beans and set an industrial-size coffeemaker to brewing. She gathered up a notepad and a pen before sitting back down.
“I need to get an idea of your likes and dislikes,” she said. “Any allergies?”
“None. If tonight is an example, anything you fix will be better than what I normally eat.” He’d have to look at pushing his housekeeper to be a little more adventurous.
“Beef, chicken, fish or pasta?” she asked.
“All of the above. I’ll eat anything.” He bit into a bar and groaned. “This is incredible.”
“Brandy-pecan bars.” She made a note.
His cell phone rang. His sister.
“Excuse me.” He paced to the back of the kitchen and a small sitting area. The space overlooked a patio and garden lit with decorative lights.
“Hey, gorgeous, what’s up?” he asked, finishing his bar.
“How could you?” Courtney blasted his eardrums without saying hello.
“How could I what?” Gray knew why she was calling. He forced his fingers to relax. He should never have dated his sister’s best friend.
“You sent Gwen a breakup bracelet,” she whispered.
How did his sister know that was his trick for getting out of relationships? “Stay out of this.”
“Hang on,” his sister said.
“Courtney, I’m—”
“Gray?” Gwen’s voice was so soft he almost couldn’t hear it over his pulse pounding in his ear.
He closed his eyes. “Yes?”
“Did you mean the bracelet to be a...a parting gift?”
It had worked before. “We broke up.”
“But Mark and Liz invited us to the vineyard next weekend.”
“Gwen.” He closed his eyes. “I won’t be home. I’m working in Savannah. Even if I was back in Boston, we wouldn’t be together.”
“But they—” She hesitated. “They expect us.”
His headache was back, the pressure building behind his eyes. He should have read her emails. Then he could have avoided this phone call. “I’m not coming home for a damn party.”
In the beginning of their relationship, going to parties every weekend had been exciting. Gwen’s energy had been thrilling. Now she exhausted him.
“When will you be home?” Her voice was quiet and low. “I think we should talk.”
He took a deep breath. “No, Gwen.”
“Oh.”
He rubbed the cords at the back of his neck. What a disaster. There were too many connections between his family and Gwen’s. Their mothers had been best friends since college. Gwen and his sister had been best friends forever. It had been a mistake to date someone so entrenched in his family.
He glanced over at Abby as she filled a coffeepot. “I have to go. Say goodbye to Courtney for me.”
He shut his phone off, but the call had soured his night. Back at the table, Abby poured his coffee. He tried to neutralize his expression, but he could feel himself frowning.
“I need to ask about lunch,” Abby said. “Are sandwiches okay?”
He added cream to his cup and sipped. Great coffee. “Sandwiches are fine.”
“Tomorrow,” she said, “I’ll serve your dinner in the dining room.”
Listening to Abby describe the B and B’s renovations had been the most relaxing dinner he’d had in months. He didn’t want to eat alone in the dining room. “I’m good with the kitchen.”
“Really?” She blinked her green eyes.
He wanted to relax. And she was calm personified. “The kitchen’s fine.”
CHAPTER TWO
Rule #11—If cleanliness is next to godliness, then Fitzgerald House must be heaven.
Mamie Fitzgerald
GRAY CHECKED THE time again. The contractor was late. He glanced at his checklist. It was already early February, and he expected to complete the bulk of the work by July.
He shoved at a stack of cardboard piled in the middle of the warehouse floor. He couldn’t wait to get the renovations started, but he needed a contractor that matched his work ethic.
He’d never planned to work anywhere but New England. He had no contacts in Georgia. He shook his head. He hadn’t been able to refuse Derrick’s offer, even though he was sure his frat brother had remembered his phone number only because he’d needed financial help.
Gray slapped his hand on his thigh. Was Gwen any different? If he hadn’t been rich, would she have ever been interested in him? Maybe their similar backgrounds and mutual friends had made their relationship too easy.
Maybe that was why he couldn’t commit. His family wanted him to settle down with Gwen. But he wasn’t convinced a relationship with her would make him happy.
Relationships were a mystery to him, but he trusted his construction knowledge. He knocked on the sturdy interior wall. This place could withstand hurricanes. It had been built on the Savannah River for commercial reasons, but the view would guarantee a good price for the condos.
The sun struggled to shine through grimy windows. He poured coffee from the thermos the B and B staff had sent with him this morning. He took a moment and sipped the strong brew laced with a hint of cinnamon.
At least here in Savannah, he wouldn’t have to attend parties and benefits for causes he didn’t believe in. He could avoid making small talk with people who didn’t share his interests.
His dinner conversation with Abby hadn’t been small talk. They’d talked about creating legacies and restoring a building that would last generations. There’d been reverenc
e in her voice when she’d talked about her family’s B and B.
His phone buzzed. Gray looked at the call display and smiled. “Hello, Mother.”
“Grayson, how are you, dear? How’s Savannah?” Her voice was so Bostonian. So different from the warm drawls he’d heard all morning at Fitzgerald House.
“I’m in hog heaven.”
She groaned. “Gray.”
“Georgia’s great.” He nodded. “The bed-and-breakfast I’m staying at is fascinating. Built in the early 1800s, so you’d feel right at home.”
“I hope you’re not implying anything about my age, dear.”
His laugh echoed in the cavernous room. It sounded—rusty. “Never.”
“Well, no matter how lovely Savannah is, I could never live there. Boston has always been home.”
His mother had grown up in Maine, but he let it go.
“How’s your warehouse?” she asked.
“A disaster.”
“I hear that glee in your voice. You can’t wait to get started.”
“You know me too well.”
“Well, don’t be too much of a perfectionist. I would like to see you sometime. I know you said you’d be there for six months, but you will come home, won’t you? It is possible I might miss my only son.”
And he would miss her. If he was here long enough, he might even miss his sister, Courtney, but not if she kept pushing Gwen his way.
“I’m sure I’ll come home, but why don’t you and Dad come down for a long weekend? I can work something out with the B and B. If my breakfast today was an example, you won’t push away from the table unhappy. Pick a weekend.”
“Your father and I will discuss it.”
“Savannah is amazing,” he said, trying to entice her.
Yesterday, he’d driven through tree-lined streets around squares filled with statues, fountains and people. “I walked to work this morning.” He sighed. “February, and I wore a light jacket.”
The city had sparkled. The air had been cool but springlike. The stress had sluiced off him like paint peeling off a roller. “Come down. Bring Dad and that little pest, Courtney, too.”
“She’s the reason I called.”
“What’s she done now?” He watched a container ship chug up the river.
“Rather, it’s what she says you’ve done. Did you really leave town without telling Gwendolyn?”
“We broke up.” He turned away from the window, fingers choking the phone. “We haven’t seen each other for over two weeks.”
If what he and Gwen had had was special, he should miss her by now. All he felt was relief.
“Gwen’s from such a good family,” his mother said. “I’d hoped you’d suit. She’s lovely and her manners are impeccable.”
Gwen was his match, born of the right people, as his mother would say. She’d forced him to think about more than work. Forced him to get out and do things. She loved parties, loved having throngs of people around her. And she rarely took no for an answer.
Her constant need to be with people, to party, had worn him down. That wasn’t how he wanted to spend his life. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, but it wasn’t crowds of people. Peace seemed too nebulous a desire.
“We don’t fit together.” Gray rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the itch that ran up his spine. Why couldn’t he commit? “I’m not ready to settle down.”
“Perhaps absence will make the heart grow fonder. Her mother and I would love to plan a wedding.”
Her words were like the plop of slushy Boston snow invading the collar of his coat.
“I’m not ready to get married,” he said. “My life’s exactly the way I want it.”
“If your life was perfect, I’d have grandchildren.”
“So talk to Courtney.”
The picture of Gwen as a mother didn’t materialize. Abby’s colorful skirt floating around dynamite legs flashed through his mind. He shook his head, but the image stayed.
“You’re thirty-three,” his mother began. It was a familiar refrain and not one he wanted to listen to again.
A door banged, rescuing him.
“The contractor is here.” Finally. “I’ll call when I can.”
No time to argue grandkids with his mother. He had a building to finish.
* * *
CHERYL CLOSED THE back door of her car with her hip. “Here’s your backpack,” she said, handing Joshua the Spider-Man bag filled with his few toys.
They walked through a garden leading from the B and B’s small parking lot. God, her car looked out of place among the guests’ late-model SUVs and luxury sedans.
Her car was more rust than metal. The gray hood didn’t match the green paint on the rest of the body. And it sucked gas and oil like a drunk with a bottle of hooch. But it ran.
They passed a small table in a secluded section of the courtyard. The table was all but hidden from the house and the rest of the grounds. This would work.
She swallowed. “Okay. Wait here for me.” She pulled out Josh’s crayons and a pad of paper. “Draw a picture. I won’t be long.”
Josh looked up at her, his big brown eyes so like Brad’s her heart ached. “Can’t I come with you?”
“I wish you could, but I have to talk to a woman about working here.” She had to get this job. To keep Josh safe, she had to earn a living. She couldn’t go back.
“The rainbow house?”
“Yes, the rainbow house.” She knelt and cupped his cheeks. “Don’t talk to anyone. If you get scared, run to the car and lock yourself in.”
“Like you taught me when Uncle Levi smelled funny and got mean.” He looked solemn and older than a five-year-old ever should. “I run fast, jump in the car and slam down the lock.”
“Yup.” She was a terrible mother, leaving her son alone in a strange place like this. She brushed a kiss on the top of his head. “I’ll be right back.”
She hurried around the corner of the house and up the stairs.
The entry was empty. She pushed the buzzer on the desk.
The house was big. She hadn’t really noticed the day before. When they’d walked up the steps, Joshua had spotted the rainbows and taken off before she could get much sense of their surroundings.
“Can I help you?” An older woman came down the hall.
“I’m here to see...” Her mind went blank.
“Are you Cheryl? No last name?” the woman filled in.
“Yes.”
“Then you’re here to see me. I’m Marion. Last name Winters.”
“Cheryl Henshaw.” After running from Atlanta, she’d decided to use her mother’s maiden name. Levi shouldn’t be able to find them, since he’d never heard the name before.
Marion pointed to a small parlor. “We can talk in here.”
“This house is beautiful.” The words rushed out.
“That it is. And it takes dedication and elbow grease to keep it that way.”
The rich smell of coffee mingled with the scent of lemon wood polish. Cheryl stared at a tray with two coffee mugs and a plate of banana bread. The aromas intensified her light-headedness, and she sank onto the sofa.
“Take a sip.” Marion pointed. “You won’t find coffee this good at any of those chain places.”
“Thank you.”
Marion picked up a second mug. “Are you from around here?”
“Atlanta most recently. Before that, Fort McPherson, though I grew up in Richmond.” Cheryl took a sip. “Oh, this is good.”
“How many years have you been cleaning?” Marion asked her.
Cheryl took another sip and then set her mug down. “I’ve cleaned all my life, but I’ve never...been paid to clean.”
“Oh.” Marion frowned.
&nbs
p; “I know how to work hard. I won’t let you down.” Please, please, please.
Marion watched her, not saying a word.
Cheryl figured the interview was over. Sighing, she grabbed her wallet. Her Coach purse, a gift from Brad, had been hocked along with her wedding ring. She knew Brad would have understood; she needed to keep Josh safe.
She stood.
Where are you going?” Marion asked.
“I...assumed...” She pointed out of the room.
“Sit on down. Have a piece of that banana bread.”
Cheryl sank into her chair. She couldn’t swallow much more than the coffee.
“Here’s what we’re going to do.” Marion tapped her finger on her nose. “We’ll try you out for a couple of days.”
“You will?” Had she really heard Marion right?
“Sure. Miss Abby says you’ve got a little boy.”
“I do.” She wanted to tell this woman with the warm brown eyes that her son was waiting in the garden for her. If she did, would Marion rescind the offer? “He’s an angel.”
“I’m sure he is. Can you start today? That damn fool, Kikki, took off for California with her boyfriend. Going to be movie stars or some such nonsense. Put me in a bind leaving without notice.”
Today? “I... I’d love to. But my son. He’s here, outside, waiting for me in the courtyard.” Her words ran together.
Marion tilted her head. “He’s here?”
“I don’t...” She took a deep breath, her face burning with embarrassment. “Miss Winters, I don’t have money for day care.” Without money for rent, how could she pay someone to watch her child?
“Is he in school yet?”
Cheryl shook her head. “He just turned five. He won’t start kindergarten until September.” If they were here that long. Staying away from Levi was more important than staying in one place.
“I’ll bet he would love some of this banana bread.” A grin spread across the older woman’s face. “It’ll keep him busy while I show you the ropes.”
As the meaning of Marion’s words sank in, Cheryl burst into tears. “Thank you!”
Marion moved over and laid a gentle hand on Cheryl’s arm. “Now, now. No need for all that. Let’s see how your boy is doing.”