by Nan Dixon
“Have Abby call me.” Lennertz wiped his mouth. “But if you’re looking to invest in Savannah, I’d love to work with you.”
Gray sat back in his chair. Investing in real estate in historic Savannah might be an interesting addition to his portfolio. His dad might like the idea of a partial interest in property in the heart of Savannah. He tapped his chin. It was definitely something to think about.
* * *
ABBY WANTED EVERYTHING to be perfect for Gray’s family. Nigel had just headed to the airport to pick them up. Her fingers drummed the kitchen counter. She checked her to-do list. Baskets for the Smythes—check. Smythe dinner reservations confirmed— check. She’d already left their weekend events itineraries in their rooms.
Time was flying, but she was on schedule. She’d finish the trifle while her sponge cake cooled.
She poured whipping cream into her mixer. When peaks formed, she added sugar and then sherry. She spread the finished cream into the six bowls she’d worked on the day before and then garnished them with crystallized violets and pansies. “If that doesn’t say spring, I don’t know what else would.”
When the front-desk buzzer sounded, she set the last trifle bowl in the fridge. Time to be Abigail the hotelier, instead of Abby the chef.
As she walked into the foyer, her stomach gave a tiny flutter. The man and woman standing by the registration desk had to be Gray’s parents. “Mr. and Mrs. Smythe?”
“Yes.” Gray had inherited his hair from his father. Only a few silver threads glimmered in the man’s thick black hair.
“Welcome to Fitzgerald House.”
Nigel pushed a loaded luggage trolley into the foyer.
“Nigel, the luggage can go up to the Martha rooms. Mr. and Mrs. Smythe are in Martha Washington and their daughter is in Jefferson.”
Gray had inherited his mother’s bright blue eyes. “I can see your son is a blend of the best of both his parents. I’m Abigail Fitzgerald.”
Mrs. Smythe blinked. The edges of her lips turned up, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you—” she glanced at her name tag “—Abigail.”
Abby pasted a smile on her face. Apparently Gray hadn’t mentioned her to his family. She shouldn’t be disappointed. She hadn’t told anyone about their relationship, either.
“Here are your room cards. If you need transportation, let me know and we can set it up.” She looked around. “I thought there would be one more in your party—your daughter?”
“Courtney is stretching her legs with Gwendolyn. The weather’s so lovely, they took a stroll around the square,” Mrs. Smythe said.
Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry. Did you say there were four in your party?” All their dinner and sightseeing reservations were for four. Not five.
Mrs. Smythe nodded. “We brought a surprise for Gray. Don’t worry. Just put her in with Courtney.”
Abby added another key card to the folder. Her? What kind of parents brought their son a woman as a surprise?
She didn’t have long to speculate. Two young women walked in the door. They both wore sweater sets, beautifully tailored pants and strands of pearls. Gray’s sister was easy to spot. She had his eyes and curly black hair. Her friend had long blond hair and gray eyes.
“Welcome to Fitzgerald House. I’m Abby. Here are your room cards.” Her fingers shook as she handed them a floor map and pointed out the elevator. “I hope you enjoy your stay. If there’s anything you need, please let me know.”
“Can I have a key card for Gray’s room?” His sister grinned at the other woman.
“Oh.” Abby blinked for a minute. Something was off here. “I wish I could.” Not really. “But I’m afraid I’d need his permission to let you have access to his room.”
His sister’s black eyebrows snapped together. “We’ll pick one up later.”
The two women headed up the stairs, arms linked.
Abby reached for her cell phone. Her fingers rattled against the keys as she pushed Gray’s speed dial number.
Before he could say more than hello, she said, “Your parents are here. Why didn’t you tell me your sister was bringing a friend? I can’t get another ticket for the parade.”
In the background, a saw buzzed. “Hang on,” Gray said. The noise grew more muffled. “What did you say?”
“Your parents are here.” She spoke slowly. “And your sister brought a guest. I need to change all your reservations to five people. There’s no way I can get another ticket for the parade.” Abby could hear the panic in her voice. This was not the weekend to be adjusting things. Four hundred thousand people would fill Savannah to celebrate all things Irish.
“I’m not slow, Abs, I just couldn’t hear you.” He sounded testy. Well, too bad. His family was messing up her day.
“I called in favors to get you into some of these events.” Abby rubbed her forehead.
“Don’t worry about the parade,” Gray said. “I won’t go.”
“I’ll start calling the restaurants.”
“Thanks. I’ll make it up to you. Do you know who came with them?”
“I heard her name, but I was too flustered to remember.”
“I guess I’ll find out tonight. Say, did you call your loan officer?” Gray asked.
“Yes. You were right. Wayne had calmed down. He’s taking the package to the loan committee. What a relief.”
“Great.” Someone called Gray’s name in the background.
“I’ll let you go.” She had calls to make.
Abby spent the next half hour on the phone. One restaurant almost refused to change the reservation. They couldn’t tie up a table for six. She sweet-talked and begged. All for Gray, his family—and Gray’s gorgeous surprise.
* * *
GRAY TOOK A quick shower. If he hugged his mother while covered in sawdust and smelling like a laborer, she’d be outraged. She hated reminders that he enjoyed ripping things apart and then putting them back together.
He pushed around the clothes hanging in his closet. He had a jacket, and he would wear dress pants instead of his normal jeans, but he refused to wear a tie. Hell, he hadn’t even brought one to Savannah.
He called his dad’s cell phone. “I’m heading downstairs for wine. It’s in the library. See you there.”
Abby wasn’t setting up the wine tasting, and his disappointment was bitter. He missed her smile. They’d barely seen each other this week. “Hey, Bess, what’s the theme tonight?”
“French Country. You’ll be drinking a Muscadet wine from the Loire region of France.” She looked at a small card. “Please note the aromas of anise and citrus. There’s also a lovely Burgundy and Champagne.”
Gray spread a tapenade of olives and figs on toast. He added a little duck pâté and a couple of grilled-leek-and-garlic tarts to his plate. Abby’s creativity should impress his parents.
When Bess handed him a glass of wine, he said, “I thought Abby normally hosted Friday night.”
“She’s swamped because of this weekend’s garden tours. Plus, St. Paddy’s Day puts more demands on her. She’ll probably sleep in the kitchen. This is an all-hands-on-deck weekend.”
Guilt ate a little hole in his chest. Abby had wasted time changing his family’s dinner reservations. Why had Courtney brought a friend without warning him? Unfortunately, this inconsideration was typical of his sister.
“Abby needs help,” he said. “Can’t Michael put in more hours?”
“Abby ask for help?” Bess shook her head. “You’re kidding, right?”
“She works too hard.”
Bess rolled her eyes. “Don’t you know she has superpowers? According to Abby, she’ll sleep in two months. She wants every dime to go back into this money pit.”
Money. Of course. What else could it be?
; “Gray.” His mother’s low voice had him setting down his glass and hurrying to her side.
“Mother.” Despite the tensions of the week, it was good to see her.
She didn’t seem to age. Her sleek silver-blond hair was styled in a chin-length bob. She’d worn it that way for most of his life. He kissed her cheek, hugged her and smelled the gardenia fragrance of home. “You look lovely.”
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered.
His father walked in behind her.
“Dad.” God, it was great to see his parents.
They settled in a seating area with a love seat and two wing-back chairs. Gray brought them wine and plates piled with appetizers.
His dad took a glass, but his mother held up her hand like a traffic cop.
“I can wait until we order wine with our dinner,” she said. “I can’t believe a B and B’s wine would be anything special.”
“I’ve been impressed with the tastings,” Gray said, still holding out her wineglass.
He waited.
“Oh, fine.” She took the glass. “Don’t loom over me. Sit.”
His mother took a sip of wine. Her eyebrows arched up and she took a bigger sip.
“I told you.” He grinned.
Reggie the cat stalked over to Gray’s chair. His tail twitched as he stared up at him. Gray uncrossed his legs and the cat hopped up.
His mother blinked, her mouth dropping open. “What is that?”
Gray stroked the cat’s thick white fur. When Reggie twisted his head, he scratched behind the cat’s ear. “This is Reggie, the B and B’s mascot.”
“But you don’t like cats,” his mother pointed out.
“Oh, Reggie and I have an understanding.” He hadn’t had a pet since old Fred, his golden retriever, had died back when he’d been in high school. He missed having a pet in his life.
“Very odd.” His mother took a sip of her wine. “You wouldn’t think a pet would be allowed.”
“I’ve seen a lot stranger sights in Savannah,” Gray said.
His dad put his nose in his glass and then sipped. “Not bad.”
“She pairs the appetizers with the wines. The best thing I ever did was negotiate to have dinner included with my stay. She’s a miracle in the kitchen. I’ve probably put on ten pounds.”
“You look wonderful,” his mother said. “Who is she?”
“Abby. Abigail. She’s one of the sisters who own Fitzgerald House. She might have checked you in. I can’t wait to introduce you.”
He mother waved her hand. “Tell us about your project.”
“The warehouse is on River Street, so it’s a great location. I’ll take you over....”
“Gray.” Courtney wrapped her arms around his back.
His sister’s overpowering floral perfume had him holding his breath. “Courtney.”
Placing Reggie on the floor, he stood to hug Courtney. Even with all her flaws, he’d missed her.
His sister wore some combination of gauzy top and sweater, looking like the gaggle of girls that always surrounded her. Young, well-educated women who’d dedicated their lives to shopping.
He wanted more than that for his sister.
“I’ve missed you,” Courtney said, giving his shoulder a small punch.
“Me, too, brat.”
“I have a surprise, big brother.” She stepped away and gestured with one hand toward the hallway.
“Gwen?” He couldn’t believe his eyes when his ex-girlfriend entered the library. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I had to see you.” Gwen’s voice was soft, her eyes downcast. “I want to make this right between us.”
She moved toward him, hands out, tears hanging on her long eyelashes.
He glared at his mother and then at Courtney. “What have you done?”
“I told you this was a bad idea, Olivia.” His father shook his head.
“Gray.” His mother held up her hands. “You and Gwen dated for almost a year. You need to talk, to communicate and get through this rough patch in your relationship.”
His mother’s words piled on him like bricks. He couldn’t breathe. “We broke up.”
Gwen gasped. Courtney, that little traitor, wrapped an arm around Gwen’s waist. Half the guests in the room stared over at them.
“You wouldn’t talk to me.” Tears filled Gwen’s eyes.
“There wasn’t anything to discuss.” He stalked out of the room, his movements jerky and abrupt.
Footsteps clicked behind him in a running staccato. “Wait, Gray. Please.” Gwen caught his arm, dragging him to a stop.
“Let go,” he snapped. “I was clear how I felt. It’s over.”
“Why?” Gwen’s silvery eyes swam with tears. “We were having so much fun, and then all of a sudden you don’t want to go to parties anymore and you’re working all the time. I don’t understand what happened. I don’t understand why you broke things off.”
What a mess. “It was never going to work out the way you wanted.”
“We belong together.” Her voice cracked. “We know all the same people, go to the same club. I thought we’d get married.”
“That’s not what I want.” Her vision of marriage sounded more like a prison.
Gwen tugged him into the small parlor off the foyer. “I don’t believe that. We’re too much alike.”
They weren’t alike. Maybe he’d changed here in Savannah or maybe he’d never fit in at home, but he was finally realizing how out of place he’d felt back in Boston.
He shook her hand off his arm. “Gwen, don’t. We’re through.”
She tipped her head back to look up at him. Her lips trembled. “I’ve missed you. I...I love you.”
Gray closed his eyes. He’d never loved her, never intended to give her any false hope.
“I’ve had a crush on you since high school,” she pleaded. “I’ve always loved you. God, all the times I made sure I ran into you. Begging Courtney for sleepovers when I knew you would be home from college. You don’t know how much planning it took to make our paths cross.”
Tears pooled in her eyes. Their pale color used to fascinate him. Now he preferred bewitching green ones.
Abby. Oh, hell. How was he going to explain Gwen’s presence to Abby?
He shook his head. “It’s over.”
“But it’s always been you.”
“I don’t...feel the same.” He spaced the words slowly, trying to be kind.
Gwen closed the distance between them. She ran her hands up his chest and laced them behind his neck.
“Stop.” He reached up to loosen her hands from around his neck. “Gwen.”
* * *
ABBY STRIPPED OFF her apron and smoothed her hair in place. She couldn’t resist checking on the wine tasting.
Okay, she wanted to check on Gray’s family. She would just peek into the room. Her jeans and T-shirt said kitchen, not front of house, but she needed to tell Gray about the change in their dinner reservation.
Hurrying down the hallway, she rounded the stairs. She had a clear view of the front parlor and caught a glimpse of a couple in an embrace. Whoops. Abby slipped into the library, not wanting to interrupt them.
The library was full of guests. Full. She grinned. And they were all enjoying her food. Nothing made her happier.
She spotted the Smythes near the fireplace, but no Gray.
“Mr. and Mrs. Smythe,” she said, wishing she could have worn her power clothes. “I just wanted you to know I’ve updated all your reservations for five people. The Pinke House, where you’re eating tonight, asked that you be punctual.” Abby checked her watch. “You should head over. They won’t hold reservations long during the holiday.”
“Thank yo
u,” Mrs. Smythe said. “I hope it wasn’t any trouble.”
“Of course not,” she lied. “Has Gray come down yet?”
“He and Gwen are talking.” Gray’s sister nodded toward the door. Courtney. His sister’s name was Courtney.
Wait. That had been Gray in the parlor? With a woman wrapped around him?
Courtney handed her wineglass and plate to Abby. “I’ll warn them that we need to leave.”
Mrs. Smythe added her plate to the stack, making Abby feel like a maid. She was here to make her guests comfortable, but she also wanted the Smythes to know she was more than that to their son. Which was messed up when she wouldn’t even tell her own family.
Abby set the dishes on the tray and trailed after the Smythes. They hovered at the entrance to the small parlor.
“It looks like you’ve worked everything out,” Courtney said to her brother.
Abby swallowed and started to sneak around the group.
“There wasn’t anything to work out.” Gray’s deep voice had Abby grabbing the banister. “Gwen shouldn’t be here. We broke up.”
“Talk to me,” the other woman said gently. “Give me a chance.”
Abby’s fingers clenched the wood. Gwen and Gray had dated? The Smythes had brought an ex-girlfriend to Savannah to see him?
“No.” Gray’s voice echoed in the foyer.
She slid around Mr. Smythe’s back to escape to the kitchen. Escape and think.
“Abby,” Gray called out. His footsteps echoed in the foyer.
He caught her around the corner in the hallway, out of sight of his family.
She let him turn her to face him, forcing a smile to her face. She couldn’t look him in the eye. “I’ve just let your family know that tonight’s reservation has been changed, but that the table won’t be held long. You should get ready to go.”
He tipped her face up. Concern filled his eyes. “This isn’t what you think.”
Oh, she thought it was. “What? That your family brought a former—” lover? “—girlfriend to see you?”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, it is what you think. But I broke up with her.”