“Guess you’ll be sleepin’ on Melanie’s pillow tonight—that sounds like rain comin’ on,” he said.
Sassy meowed once and sighed.
“That’s not a sign, either.” Tucker finished off the pizza and went to bed.
He didn’t dream that night and awoke in a bad mood. All he’d asked for was a little indication that he should even consider buying that run-down place. Melanie could have visited him in his sleep like she often did—but nothing, nada, zilch.
He jerked on a pair of possibly clean jeans and pulled on a stained, mustard-colored work coat over a long-sleeved knit shirt frayed at the wrists. Covering his eyes against the bright sunshine, he hurried out to his truck, climbed inside, and flipped the visor down to get his sunglasses. Once he had them on, he shut the door and started the engine. He grabbed a bag of sausage biscuits at a drive-through window and then drove north toward Jefferson. Maybe something would hit him and tell him whether or not to buy the place—or at least half of it.
When he turned down the lane toward the Magnolia Inn, he braked and turned off the engine. He opened the sack and removed a sausage biscuit. He’d never been inside the inn, but Melanie had talked about going there for a tea that the Chamber of Commerce had put on for the girls when she was a high school senior. She’d gotten a dreamy look in her eyes the first time she pointed it out to him from the highway. He smiled as he remembered their conversation that day.
“Someday we’re going to have a house like that, and a dozen little Malone boys will slide down the banister from the second floor to the first one,” she’d said.
“And what if we have a dozen little Malone girls?” he’d asked.
“Then they will sit on the porch in fancy dresses and you can polish up your shotgun and wait on the swing to scare off the boys,” she’d giggled.
A picture of three or four teenage girls on the porch and a couple of boys playing football in the front yard popped into his mind. But that would never happen, because if he bought the house, it would be to run the place as a bed-and-breakfast. Melanie had been his soul mate, and he’d had five wonderful years with her. It was insane to think that a man ever got two chances like that in a lifetime.
“You could help me out here, Melanie,” he said.
He’d barely gotten the words out when Sassy crawled out from under the passenger seat and stuck her head into the sack of biscuits. She cocked her head to one side and then the other before she turned to meow at him.
He’d had to tranquilize the stupid cat to move her from Dallas to Marshall, and even then she’d awakened before they arrived. He could still hear her moaning and groaning from the carrier in the back seat of his club-cab truck. So why was she hitching a ride when she was supposed to be staying at the trailer?
“How did you get in here?” he asked.
Then he remembered putting on his sunglasses and his gloves before he shut the door that morning. But still, she should have been throwing a fit by now.
“Is this my sign, Melanie?” he finally whispered.
A bird flew down from the pine trees and landed on the hood of his truck, and Sassy made a noise in her throat as she tried to tease it into coming closer. She’d love it out here in the country, maybe as much as Melanie had thought she would when she’d talked about living in a place like this.
“Okay, I hear you,” Tucker said as he pulled his phone from his hip pocket and dialed Belinda’s number.
“What’s he askin’?” he said when she answered.
“Hello to you, too,” Belinda said. “There’s a house in Jefferson about that size that’s up for two hundred and fifty thousand. But it’s in pristine condition, so I’ve already told him there’s no way he’ll get but maybe a quarter of that amount for the Magnolia, since it needs a complete overhaul. You seen the inside yet?”
“Nope. Tell him I’ll go seventy-five thousand for half of it,” Tucker said. “Cash, so we can make it happen sooner than if I had to go through the bank for a loan.”
“He’s pretty anxious to sell.” Belinda drew out the words.
“Then tell him sixty-five,” Tucker laughed.
“I’ll relay your message. Should have a counteroffer within an hour or two. You should go inside to get a look at what all it needs before you make a second offer,” Belinda said.
“I’m looking at it right now from where I turned down the lane. I don’t need to see any more than this right now.” Tucker hit the “End” button on the phone, laid it aside, and ran a hand over Sassy’s fur. “So you didn’t want to leave Dallas, yet you want to move here. Whoever said that you own a dog but feed a cat sure knew what they were talking about.”
He gazed down the lane at the two-story house with its wide front porch. He envisioned guests sitting on the porch in the summertime. They’d have glasses of lemonade or iced tea, and maybe there would be a little cart on wheels with cookies on it. In the spring, there would be tulips or maybe even rosebushes. Sure, he was eager to see the inside, but he really didn’t care how much work it would take to renovate the place. That was irrelevant. The feeling in his heart of doing the right thing was what he’d been looking for, and it was definitely there.
“So what do you think, Sassy? We can pull our trailer back behind the house and live in it while we do the remodeling. Maybe I should go in and take a tour of the place.” He removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s pretty damned impulsive to buy a place without even looking at it, isn’t it?”
The cat cold nosed his chin. He hadn’t laughed so much in weeks. “Okay, I get the message. Buy it. From the outside, it doesn’t look so bad, and they were renting rooms up until a few weeks ago, so it can’t be completely falling in. And besides, the Big Cypress Bayou runs behind it, so I can fish every evening.”
He grabbed his phone from the passenger seat and called Belinda. She answered on the second ring. “Dixie Realty.”
“Call the woman in the house and make her the same offer. Maybe she doesn’t realize how much her half is worth. Hell, offer her a hundred thousand and see if she’ll go for it,” he said.
“I don’t think she will, but I’ll give it a shot,” Belinda said. “Be in touch in a little while.”
He drove back to his trailer with Sassy sitting like a queen in the passenger seat. If this Jolene woman was willing to take his offer, he would restore and flip the place and make a nice profit. Once inside, he shed his coat and cowboy boots and began to pace. Sassy turned around three or four times in the middle of his bed before she settled down and went to sleep.
“So you’ve done your duty and now you aren’t going to worry with me?” Tucker asked. “Now that I’ve seen it again, I want it really bad. You could at least stay awake and keep me company.”
Sassy’s whiskers didn’t even twitch in reply.
He wished he had a job to keep his mind off the two offers he’d made. He’d even be willing to remodel a bathroom to keep his hands busy, and Tucker hated working in the tight spaces. They reminded him of all the times he’d had to crawl under houses in search of things he’d rather not think about anymore. He slouched on the sofa and leaned his head back, shutting his eyes, and second-guessing himself about what he’d just done.
He fell asleep, and in his dream, Melanie was sitting on the swing on the front porch of that big house. She ran out to meet him as he drove up, slung her arms around his neck, and kissed him. He awoke to the sound of the phone ringing, and before he answered it, he just knew that it was good news.
“Hello, Belinda. That was quick,” he said.
“Got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”
“Give me the bad.” He raked his fingers through his dark hair and realized he really needed to visit the barber.
“Jolene says no way in hell, and that if she had the money, she’d buy Reuben out. Good news is that Reuben didn’t even want to counteroffer. He took the sixty-five thousand and said to tell you to consider it yours. I’ll have the
papers ready for both of you to sign on Friday morning, but as of now, you can sell that trailer and move into the house if you want.”
“I ain’t sellin’ my trailer. I might drag it out there and park it behind the house by the bayou, but a million bucks couldn’t take it from me,” he said. “I’ll see you Friday. What time?”
“Nine o’clock,” she said.
“I’ll be there.”
“Bring your checkbook.”
Jolene had taken stock of what was left in the pantry, and there was plenty to last a couple of weeks. By then she’d have money from the bar to pay the utility bills. She paced the floor, wondering if the guy who’d offered would really buy Reuben’s half of the inn. She went from the foyer up the wide staircase, checked each bedroom, and finally sat down on the top step.
The person who was interested in the place might not finalize a deal on only half. If he backed out, she decided that she was going to open for business, no matter what. She’d take a month to get the place in shape, do the spring cleaning like Aunt Sugar did every year, and take reservations starting the first of February. If she lived on a shoestring, maybe she could save enough to hire someone to remodel one room at a time that way.
Now that she had a plan, even if it wasn’t a good one, she was eager to get started, but seven o’clock at night wasn’t the time to start washing woodwork. She grabbed a quilt from the back of the sofa and carried it outside. Wrapping it around her body like a long shawl, she sat down on the porch swing and set it to moving with her foot. Within minutes she was second-guessing herself about selling her half. A picture of Aunt Sugar’s smile flashed through her mind.
Even if she could have more money than she’d ever had at one time and be on her way to a new life—maybe down near Lafayette, where she still had beaucoup cousins—it wasn’t going to happen. She’d made up her mind, and she was going to stay focused on moving forward with the plan.
A big, fluffy white cat hopped up on the swing with her and laid a paw on her leg. It was friendly enough that Jolene wondered if it belonged there and Aunt Sugar had just forgotten to mention it in her excitement to leave the day before.
“Well, what’s your name, pretty thing?” Jolene asked.
“Sassy is her name,” a deep voice said right behind her.
Startled, Jolene whipped around so fast that she almost fell off the swing. “Who are you, and what are you doin’ here?”
Now is that any way to act toward a potential customer? Aunt Sugar’s voice popped into her head. He might stay a week, and you’d make enough money to pay the electric bill.
“Right friendly, ain’t you?” Sarcasm dripped from the man’s tone.
“I’m sorry. You scared me. Is this your cat? How did you get here?”
“Drove my truck right up the lane and parked my trailer out in that little clearing by the bayou.” His deep drawl left no doubt that he was definitely from Texas. He topped six feet easily in his well-worn cowboy boots. His hair was dark, and the porch light lit up his piercing blue eyes.
“We don’t have a trailer park.” How had he gotten past the house without her hearing the truck?
“Nope, don’t reckon you do.” He sat down on the porch step, and the cat hopped off the swing and went to curl up in his lap.
“Then what are you doing here?” she asked again. “Would you like to rent a room?”
“Nope, but I wouldn’t mind a tour of the house,” he said.
“Why would I do that?” Her fear radar shot up several notches.
“Because, honey, I’m Tucker Malone, and I own half of this place now—or at least I will on Friday when I sign the papers.”
Chapter Four
Tucker had planned on knocking on the door like a gentleman, introducing himself and telling the lady why he was there, but Sassy kind of beat him to the punch. Now Jolene was staring at him like he had horns on his head and maybe a long spiky tail. She was downright cute with those big blue eyes and blonde hair. With that small waist and those curvy hips, most men would be drooling over her.
“I thought maybe Belinda would have told you that Reuben said I could go ahead and move in today. My trailer rent is up tomorrow, so I took your cousin up on staying,” he explained.
She stood up and paced to the other end of the porch, the quilt dragging behind her. She whipped it around as she turned. “She called, but there was no talk of you moving in. But I guess since you own half this place, you’ve got the right to do what you want.”
“I thought maybe this first little while I’d just hook up to the electricity and stay in my trailer,” he said.
His detective training on the Dallas PD kicked in as he watched her pace nervously across the porch. She was short, maybe an inch or two over five feet tall, and soaking wet she might hit 120 pounds. Her slightly pointed chin didn’t detract from her delicate features. Even with no makeup she was a looker—someone he might have hit on in a bar before he settled down with Melanie.
“That’s crazy. What would you use for a bathroom?” She continued flipping that quilt around every time she turned to pace to the other end of the porch. “The house is warm, even if it’s shabby right now. We need to go inside out of the cold and talk if we’re going to be partners.”
“What’s there to talk about? We both know it needs to be remodeled, so we’ll go halves on everything. Close it down until spring and have a grand opening when everything is done,” he said.
She eased down on the step beside him and put her head in her hands. “I have about a hundred dollars in my checking account. I hope you have a little more than that, or else your credit is good enough to get a loan.”
“Sweet Jesus!” he gasped.
“Here’s what I offered Reuben. Hear me out, okay?” She started talking before he could even answer and finished with, “Whether you have the money or you can get a loan, we can put it all in a contract so you won’t feel like I’m taking advantage. I’m willing to work right beside you until we get the place back in shape. I can paint, sand, or do anything if you’ll only show me how. The Realtor told me that you are a crackerjack carpenter.”
“Can you cook?” he asked when she finally wound down.
She nodded.
“And you’ll work right along with me without bitchin’?”
Another nod.
He stuck out his hand. “Then you’ve got a deal. We’ll draw up something on paper tomorrow morning and each of us will sign it. And I don’t need to get a loan from a bank. Got a safe in the house?”
“Just a little one in the utility room,” she answered.
“We’ll put our paper in there when we get done with it,” he said. “So you can cook for real?”
“Yes, why?”
“I’m hungry,” he said.
Even though Jolene looked like she might have traveled a few rough roads, she didn’t sound like she was conning him. And he really was starving. That slice of cold pizza he’d had for breakfast had long since digested. He’d been so busy getting the trailer ready to move that he’d forgotten all about lunch.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I love breakfast for supper. So I’d like biscuits and gravy, pancakes, and maybe an omelet with hash browns on the side.” He straightened up and headed across the porch with Sassy right behind him.
“Are you testing me to see if I can make a good breakfast for the inn when it’s up and running again?”
“Nope. I just happen to really like homemade breakfast food, and I thought I’d push my luck,” he answered.
“I can have it ready in thirty minutes while you do a walk-through of your new property, Mr. Malone,” she said.
“Are you serious? An omelet with some toast would be fine. Just call me Tucker. Unless you want to stand on formality, and then I’ll call you Miss Broussard.” He waited for her to catch up, and then held the door for her and Sassy. “Hope you ain’t allergic to cats.”
“No, sir. Love them, as a matter of fact. Not
much into dogs. You go on and see what you think while I get some food going, and I’ll show you that I can put a decent breakfast on the table—Tucker.” She hurried off to the kitchen as he started up the wide, curved stairway.
Jolene’s hands shook as she stirred up biscuit dough from Aunt Sugar’s recipe file. If he had enough money to redo this place, why in the hell was he living in a travel trailer? Why would he want to buy half ownership? And this all had happened in two days—wasn’t that too quick?
Questions upon questions raced through her mind, but there wasn’t a single answer to any of them. She shook flour on a piece of waxed paper and kneaded the dough a few times. Once it was cut into a dozen perfect circles, she stomped her foot. She should’ve only made half a recipe. There was no way two people would eat twelve biscuits.
She slid the pan into the oven and then crumbled half a pound of sausage into a cast-iron skillet. Going back and forth from stove to cabinet, she kept it stirred in between whipping four eggs up in a bowl and dicing up some tomatoes, onions, and peppers for a western omelet.
She glanced out the kitchen window, and a dark shadow proved that he had indeed parked his trailer back there. In the dim light, it looked a lot like the one she’d lived in for a few years when she’d moved out of her mother’s place. Since he hadn’t signed the papers, he might take one look at what all needed to be done and grab his cat, and she’d never see him again.
Jolene’s mind was going in a hundred directions. Jumping from showing him that she’d be a good cook for the bed-and-breakfast to wondering how things had ever happened so fast to just how much money he was willing to invest. She didn’t even hear him enter the room.
“We’ve got a big job on our hands. You got a deadline in mind?” Tucker came into the kitchen and watched her cook from the other side of the kitchen island.
The Magnolia Inn Page 4