by Carol Rose
Later that evening, tiny white lights were strung in the pines and magnolias that dotted the Boeuf River Park on the outskirts of Bayville. Children ran wild on the sloping riverbank, dabbling their bare feet at the water's edge until their parents called to them.
At this hour, the sound of chirping insects filled the sultry air, and an occasional high-pitched whine could be heard as mosquitoes reconnoitered their victims.
Humming to herself, Elinor walked through the people as the setting sun left shivery purple ripples on the river's surface. More than anything, the annual Bayville Peach Festival was an opportunity for the town to get together and throw a party. And if a few tourists came along, all the better.
The smells of river dampness mingled with the smoky rush of cooking meat to create the fragrance of excitement. The exact combination always conjured up memories of the festival itself.
Circling a group of teenage boys, Elinor heard several long, drawn-out wolf whistles as she passed by, the milkmaid outfit, she knew. Responding to their high spirits with a playful shake of her head, she turned down the avenue of booths set up for the event.
She was so excited about seeing Cole that she felt almost giddy. He'd left a message on her voicemail that afternoon saying he'd meet her at the Ladies' Guild booth around eight.
Daydreaming the hours away, she'd imagined how his eyes would darken into blue velvet when she finally gave an answer to his proposal. The only thing she hadn't figured out was how she'd convince him to wait long enough to get married in the little church here in Bayville, rather than flying to Las Vegas.
Even wearing the milkmaid outfit for the Ladies' Guild booth couldn't dampen her mood.
Mrs. Wilmington, bless her heart, had quite a sense of humor. When Elinor opened the box and saw the dress she was to wear while working at the ice cream booth, her jaw had dropped.
The blue cotton material of the underdress was demure enough, but the snug fit of the bodice combined with a low cut neckline left little to the imagination. The skirt itself was full and very short. Elinor had stood in front of her mirror, gaping when the whole outfit was in place.
With the tiny waistline and full skirt, the dress was very flattering. She felt herself growing warm just thinking about Cole's reaction when he saw her in it. The little puffed sleeves sat perkily on her arms in defiance of gravity, because there were no shoulders to speak of, the scooped neck left the upper slope of her breasts bare almost past the point of decency. Even the tiny white apronlike pinafore didn't diminish the overall seductive effect.
Elinor had found herself laughing as she pinned on the little white cap that matched the apron. She couldn't imagine a milkmaid wearing this outfit unless she was planning to milk something other than cows.
Where had Mrs. Wilmington found these garments? The possibilities were so at odds with the woman's proper image that they boggled the mind.
But the thought that had tickled Elinor all the way to the festival was Daisy's reaction. If the milkmaid outfit was a requirement of all the women working the Ladies' Guild booth, Daisy would also be inflicted with one. This seemed only fair since she was the one who'd gotten Elinor into the situation in the first place.
The ice cream booth was situated on the avenue, some distance from the river. As she approached, Elinor could see a small, rotund woman of fifty behind the counter serving ice cream to two eager youngsters. She stifled a laugh when she recognized the minister's wife, a shawl knotted awkwardly over her provocative milkmaid outfit.
Mrs. Wilmington must have had it in for some of these ladies.
Entering the back of the booth, Elinor tucked her things down under the counter and started serving the clamoring customers. The Ladies' Guild always put up an attractive booth of white lattice walls with silk flowers woven in. Behind the serving counter stood a chest freezer loaded with homemade peach ice cream.
Within minutes, Daisy arrived to relieve the minister's wife. Relief was the operative word Elinor acknowledged after having watched the woman adjusting her bosom-protecting shawl a dozen times.
When the embarrassed woman hurried away, Elinor turned to her friend. "Hi there, fellow milkmaid. Feel like you ought to be doing a number from Gypsy? "
Daisy giggled glancing down at her trim figure. "No. I feel like I ought to be standing on a street corner. What on earth could that woman be thinking of when she bought these?"
Elinor paused in the middle of tasting a spoonful of ice cream. "I don't know, but my theory is that she didn't win the presidency of the guild last year and this is her revenge."
Choking back a laugh, Daisy handed bowls of ice cream to a teenage couple. Behind them were three elderly ladies. And then the rush was on. Elinor and Daisy found themselves scurrying around the booth filling orders with no chance to think, much less talk.
Half an hour later, they'd emptied six laige ice cream containers and broken open the second case of disposable bowls before there was a lull in business.
"Whew!" Elinor sat down on a folding chair. "Who would've believed that so many people liked peach ice cream?"
"This is a peach festival," Daisy said, fanning herself with a paper plate. They sat in silence, catching their breath as they watched the passing crowd.
"Hey, did you get the contract stuff done on Oakleigh?" Daisy asked when Elinor had gotten up to serve a small boy.
Elinor sank back into her chair. "Yes. All taken care of."
Daisy paused in her fanning. "Any regrets?"
"No," Elinor said after a moment's reflection. "I did hate to sell the house. It could be really beautiful, but, in a way, signing the contract put the past behind me."
She looked at Daisy. "I hadn't realized how much the fight between my father and Daniel has bothered me. Being able to sell the house was proof to myself that I'm not like my father."
"You thought that might be a possibility?" her friend asked dryly.
"I guess so." Elinor laughed. "We come up with the craziest ideas when we're kids, don't we?"
"I wouldn't know," Daisy replied. "That was too long ago for me to remember."
Elinor made a scoffing noise. "Oh, yeah. You look like a grandmother in that outfit."
Daisy smiled, her cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. "I do look pretty decent for my age, don't I?"
"I think you look great," Elinor agreed. "Anyone in particular that you're hoping will notice?"
Fluffing her bangs, Daisy's smile turned coquettish. "There are several gentlemen I wouldn't mind seeing tonight."
"Well, I'm glad you don't feel too shy," Elinor teased. "It occurred to me when I put on this outfit that my neighbors are getting to know me better than I ever expected. Once you've seen a woman in this get-up there aren't many surprises left."
"Do you think Cole will mind?" her friend asked slyly.
Elinor smiled. "I have no idea. We'll just have to see. He's supposed to come by here soon."
She broke off, getting up to serve a family of four. After that, a group of junior high kids descended upon the booth, requiring both Daisy and her to quickly fill more bowls.
"We need more change," Daisy announced when all but the last kid had been served. "I'll go get some."
"Okay." Scooping the last serving out of a container, Elinor handed it to a young girl with fake fingernails and gelled bangs that stood straight up. When she deposited the girl's money in the cash box, she turned to retrieve another container from the freezer.
"Well," sneered a voice from behind her, "if it isn't Miz Prescott."
Elinor straightened, turning to face the counter. "Mr. Brinkman."
The realtor leaned over the counter, a can of beer clutched in his hand. "Doing your bit for charity? You look good enough to eat in that dress." His eyes zeroed in on her chest. "I'll have an order of those, to go."
"We're serving 'ice cream,' Mr. Brinkman," Elinor said icily. "Can I get you a bowl?"
"You know, that's your problem," Brinkman scoffed. "You snobby women think yo
u're too good for a little fun. And that's too bad, because I could've helped you out."
"I beg your pardon?"
"If you'd have been a little friendlier, maybe cozied up to me a little, I could have talked Whittier into making you a better deal on that pile of bricks he just stole from you."
"Whittier?" Elinor felt the blood drain from her face as the background sounds faded. It couldn't be true.
"Yeah, Miss Too-good-for-a-tumble. He got that house for ten thousand below market value, and I nailed the deal for him. He'll probably give me a bonus."
Her eyes fastened on the vindictive realtor's face with painful intensity. The man was a slimeball. Was he telling her the truth? "Cole Whittier bought Oakleigh?"
"Yes, Cole Whittier," Brinkman repeated impatiently. "He wanted the house but didn't want the old man to know it was him. I guess they had some kind of feud back when Whittier was a kid."
"Cole knew my grandfather," Elinor said slowly, trying to absorb the slam of betrayal that hit her midsection.
"Yeah," the man jeered. "He had this whole thing planned out from the start. You and that old man didn't stand a chance."
The world seemed to shift before her eyes. The ever-moving stream of people blurred, but not before she caught sight of Cole, several feet away.
"Elinor!" His face filled with anger and dismay, he strode toward the booth.
She felt the air in her lungs clog. Obviously, he'd overheard part of their confrontation.
"Elinor." Cole reached across the counter to snag her hand in his, ignoring the startled realtor. "You have to hear me out."
"It's okay, boss," Brinkman smirked. "I got her signature on the contract this afternoon. Thought you wouldn't mind if I let the cat out of the bag now. She can't get out of the deal."
"Brinkman," Cole said through clenched teeth. "Get out of here, and pray that I don't have you hunted down like a dog."
"What'd I do?" the man whined. "It doesn't matter if she's mad. The snobby bitch can't do anything about it."
Cole turned toward him, menace visible in the movement. "If I find that you've had any further contact with Ms. Prescott, I will personally make sure you never do business in this state again."
Fear finally dawned in Brinkman's drink-glazed eyes. "I'm sorry, boss. I didn't mean to—"
"Get lost," Cole snarled watching as the man wavered before turning and stumbling away.
Elinor observed their interaction as if they were far away, shock telescoping her out of the scene.
"It's true, isn't it?" She searched his face, hope shriveling in her as he hesitated his blue eyes clouded with guilt. "You know that man because you're the buyer."
He'd lied to her to get the house. Cole had lied from the beginning. Nothing he'd ever said was true. She'd been right about him all along. He'd do anything for success, money—and a little revenge.
"Elinor!" Cole's voice was low and urgent.
Looking down at where his hand still gripped her wrist, she didn't reply. Suddenly, she jerked free, revolted by a contact that still seemed laden with possibilities. How could the touch of his hand feel so right when everything between them was so corrupt?
"What did he tell you, El?" Cole's intent gaze searched her face.
"The truth," she spat. "He told me the truth. Something you never did."
"El—"
"Don't!" she interrupted, suddenly furious. "Don't make it worse by telling more lies. You got what you wanted. You've got the plant and Oakleigh. And you even got what Brinkman couldn't get—a couple of tumbles with a Prescott."
"God no, El." Anguish flared in his face. "That was never what I wanted."
A man and woman with a small child stopped hesitantly behind Cole, obviously wondering about buying ice cream.
"You're really good at manipulating people." Ice formed around her words. "Much better than my father ever dreamed of being. You gambled big time and won."
"No, El. I'm losing everything as I stand here." His eyes locked with hers, sincerity and a desperate passion blazing in their blue depths.
Only the best can fake sincerity. Her father's words echoed in Elinor's head.
The couple walked on, apparently reluctant to interrupt their intense interchange.
The look on his face tore at her. She wanted to believe him, wanted to find a magical end to this nightmare. Her own weakness nauseated her. "Don't worry," she told him, barely managing to hold herself together beneath the huge weight of his betrayal. "I won't hold you to your other offer."
"Cole? Elinor?" Daisy entered the booth, looking worriedly from one to the other. "What's the matter?"
"Dammit, Elinor," Cole growled, his face dark. "You've got it all wrong. I asked you to marry me because I want you. It has nothing to do with the house."
"Hey, you guys," Daisy tried again, as they both ignored her. "What's the problem?"
"There isn't a problem," Elinor said finally, her gaze still locked with his as she jerked off her milkmaid's cap. "I'm leaving. You can handle this by yourself, can't you, Daisy?" She bent to grab up her purse.
"I . . . guess so."
Elinor's gaze never left Cole's face as she backed out of the booth. "I'm leaving. Don't follow me. Don't try to talk to me. Ever. I never want to hear your voice again."
"Good grief, I just went to get change. What the heck happened?" yelped Daisy.
Without another word, Elinor turned and started running up the avenue of booths as if chased by the hounds of hell. If Cole ever caught up with her, she couldn't be sure of her control. The tears started splashing down her cheeks as she tore through the festival-bedecked park,
She didn't dare slow up. Making it to the parking lot, she dove into her car and started the engine with shaking fingers.
Halfway home, the crying started in earnest. How could she have walked so blindly into disaster? Loving Cole Whittier was like selling her soul.
"Heh heh. So you got caught at your own game, Mr. Moneybags."
Cole paused, turning at the sound of the dry, crackling voice. He glanced at Oakleigh's back gallery where a weathered bench occupied a place next to the kitchen door. On it sat Charlie, almost obscured in the early-morning shadows.
"What did you say, Charlie?" Cole had been walking over the part of the property where slave cabins had once stood, but now he went to where the old man sat.
"I said you got caught at your own game last night." Charlie sat ramrod straight, both feet on the ground, his wrinkled face creased in mocking laughter.
"You mean ..."
"I heard Miss Elinor won't have nothing more to do with you."
"You did?" Cole said, leaning against a column with one foot resting on an overturned clay pot.
The old man chuckled again.
"Tell me something, Charlie. If Daniel knew who I was—"
"Right from the start," Charlie said staunchly.
"—why he didn't block the sale of the house?"
The old man's face worked a moment. "He saw how it was with you and Miss Elinor," he replied slowly as if discussing Daniel's business came hard to him.
"Daniel knew from the beginning that I was interested in Elinor?"
"Yes. Anyone would have known with the way you two looked at each other."
Cole frowned as he sorted out this new angle. "And he wanted Elinor and me together?"
"Mr. Daniel saw it as kind of a package deal. You'd get Oakleigh and Miss Elinor would get a husband."
"Daniel always hated me," Cole said flatly. "Why would he want Elinor and me together?"
Charlie looked up at him, every line of his body disdainful. "Things is different now. You're a rich man."
Cole searched the proud, wizened face. "I'll be damned," he said softly. "He made me a gift of Oakleigh to get his granddaughter married to money? Even when he must have known she would despise the idea?"
"It was the only thing he ever done for her," the old man said, a stubborn set to his jaw. "He was providing for her. Mr. Daniel alwa
ys provided for his womenfolk however he could."
"So he schemed behind his granddaughter's back to marry her to a man with money." Cole paused. "She had his number right all the time, didn't she? Daniel did whatever he had to do for money. Even accepting me as master of Oakleigh."
"Seems to me," Charlie got up stiffly, "that you got no call to be talking of scheming. You started the whole thing with sneaking in to buy the house in secret. Mr. Daniel just went along with you because it suited him."
Cole stood watching as the proud old man walked away without another word, his carriage straight despite his halting gait.
When Charlie's figure disappeared down the drive, Cole was alone.
He looked up at Oakleigh's graceful, columned structure, acknowledging to himself that he faced a cold reality. There were no magic tricks to get him out of this one, no brilliant strategies to yield total triumph.
It came down to choosing between giving up the woman he loved or letting go of the ambition that had carried him through the toughest times of his life. This time he couldn't have it all.
"I never thought I'd see the day when you'd turn tail and run like a coward." Daisy jerked open the curtains and pulled up the blinds.
Elinor blinked swollen eyes and turned away from the light. "I don't want to talk to him. Did Cole send you over here?"
"No. Has he called or come by?"
"Three times, I think. I quit answering the phone when he called so many times last night because I wouldn't answer the door."
Daisy made a disgusted noise. "You're hiding out like a criminal. What's the big deal in just talking to the man?"
"There's nothing worth talking about. He lied to me, Daisy. Right from the start." She huddled down in her bed coverings wondering if there was any chocolate-fudge ice cream left in the freezer.
"Maybe he did. But you haven't even heard him out." She paused in the middle of opening another curtained window. "Suppose he had his reasons for not wanting anyone to know he was buying Oakleigh?"
"He had his reasons, all right," Elinor said, sitting up abruptly as she shoved her tumbled hair back with a vicious hand. "He wanted to be the big man in town and that meant having the biggest, most impressive house. And he wanted to get it at a good price. Cole had a plan and he didn't care who got hurt."