Magnolia Brides would be a success.
“There’s no way to save the shop?”
“None that I can think of.”
Yapping sounded from the back room, and Darlene opened the door to it. Moonshine and Mint Julep, Darlene’s rambunctious Cairn Terriers, peeked around the edge. Seeing Jenni Beth, they skittered out to greet her.
Moonshine sported a purple and green knitted cap, while Mint Julep wore a jaunty bow of the same colors.
“We match,” Darlene said as Jenni Beth knelt to scratch the dogs’ ears.
“I noticed.” She smiled. Everybody in town knew these dogs had more clothes and accessories than any other dogs in the state of Georgia. And regardless of Darlene’s outfit, the dogs would be dressed in coordinating colors.
One more thing to love about the South. Crazy aunts—and storekeepers—weren’t hidden away but, rather, flaunted proudly.
While Darlene broke a cookie into tiny bites for her fur-babies, Jenni Beth hiked herself onto the edge of the high window ledge. Behind her, sampler quilts in all colors of the rainbow vied with the pink and purple silk azaleas on display.
When Darlene waved to someone outside, Jenni Beth turned her head.
Cole, the weasel, waved back.
Oh, jeez. Her chin dropped to her chest. She couldn’t catch a break.
Brazen as a boardinghouse cat, he stuck his head in the door. “Hey, Ms. Darlene. Moonshine, Mint Julep.” He knelt to pat the dogs. “I’m doin’ a little window-shoppin’. How much for the new mannequin?”
Darlene frowned, and then chuckled.
Jenni Beth stepped down onto the floor. “Ha-ha. Very funny.”
“Can we talk?” he asked.
“Not today, Cole.” She couldn’t. She was too vulnerable for another sparring match. “I have things to do.”
He didn’t back down. “Nothin’ as important as this.”
Why wouldn’t he go away? “Sure I do. I have to paint my nails, wash my hair—”
“Look, I’m sorry for that comment this mornin’. We both know you work like a dog when you have to. No offense,” he said to the terriers.
Jenni Beth turned her head one way, then the other, and put a hand up to her ear. “Is someone else besides the three of us in the store, Darlene?”
“Nope. Except for my babies.” She fed the dogs another piece of cookie.
“Did I really just hear an I’m sorry from Cole Bryson?”
His jaw set stubbornly. “Fine. I thought maybe I could save you from makin’ a fool of yourself. Guess I was wrong. Excuse me, ladies.”
With a tip of his ball cap, he slammed out the door and stormed off down the street.
Darlene gave a soft little whistle. “What on earth has gotten into him? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cole in a temper like that.”
Wide-eyed, Jenni Beth stared at his disappearing backside. Neither had she. Out of sorts? Sarcastic? Goading? Yes. But this went beyond a simple sulk. Did he really have something important to talk to her about—other than convincing her to pressure her parents into selling him their family home?
She seriously doubted it. Maybe Cole had struck out at the bank, too.
And hadn’t she promised herself not to think about him anymore? If he’d stay away, it would sure be a heck of a lot easier. The man was exactly what she most didn’t want in her life right now. He was like a big dark cloud, and who needed that? Her life already resembled the perfect storm, swirling out of control.
Darlene picked up a feather duster and chased nonexistent particles around the counter. “To answer your earlier question, yes, I’m sure. I dreaded makin’ the decision, stalled till it simply couldn’t be put off anymore. The business is flat broke.”
“Do you have enough to stay open another couple months?”
“What good would that do, honey? Circumstances won’t be any different sixty days from now. I can’t compete with the chain stores and big malls.”
Jenni Beth wandered over to the large rack of pattern books. She should be quiet. Anything and everything she told Darlene would be all over town in under an hour.
But, oh, she hated to see another business go down for the count.
“I don’t know for certain that anything will change,” she said cautiously. “But there might be something coming down the pike that could make a difference.”
“You’re speaking in riddles.”
She sighed. “I know. I really can’t tell you anything specific. Not yet. But I’m hoping that, given a little time, things will turn around for Misty Bottoms.”
Picking up three skeins of yarn she had no idea what she’d do with, she placed them on the counter.
“You want these?”
Jenni Beth nodded.
“You don’t knit.”
“No, but…maybe I’ll take it up.”
Darlene’s brow creased, but she rang them up.
Jenni Beth paid, said her good-byes to Moonshine and Mint Julep, and left with the ugliest yarn she’d ever seen tucked under one arm. Maybe her mother could do something with it. Her mood had turned even darker, and there was no bounce in her step as she passed once-thriving businesses. More than a couple had closed up tight, out-of-business signs taped in their windows, for-lease notices posted.
Mixed in with them were a handful of trendy little shops—a deli, a candy store, another selling high-priced art. Good luck with that here.
And yet the town itself? Irresistible. The quilt shop faced a little park, green with trees and bursting with flowers, that ran down the center of Main Street, a little like Savannah’s city squares. Alice’s gift shop boasted a white picket fence and colorful wooden rockers on its porch. And even though the pharmacy’s soda counter had disappeared, Henderson’s still sold ice cream and sodas and provided a couple small tables to sit at, relax, and chat.
What wasn’t to like about this small town—other than the fact that these wonderful shops and their owners had almost no customers?
The sun scuttled behind a cloud, and a shadow fell over her. Negative Nancy crawled out from some dark recess of her mind and nagged at Jenni Beth. Richard hadn’t jumped at her business plan, and she had to return home without an answer. Darlene thought her a total whack-job, although that was a little like the pot calling the kettle black, and Cole Bryson was still in town. The day couldn’t possibly get any worse.
Maybe she’d go home, kick off her shoes, toss her suit jacket over the hall banister, and while away the rest of the day on the front porch with a few mint juleps and a good book.
That is, if the porch hadn’t collapsed while she was gone. And that wasn’t rhetorically speaking. That porch had to be her first priority. She really did need to get some new planking laid and the columns shored up.
She reached the bank parking lot where she’d left her car earlier. Her one true love. Just looking at it made her smile. Unlike a certain somebody who’d been plaguing her the last two days, her ’65 ’Vette never let her down, never caused her sleepless nights. The car was a thing of beauty. Black with a white ragtop and red leather interior, stick shift on the floor, and a small block with 365 horsepower under the hood.
She should probably sell it. God knew she needed the money. But the car meant so much to her. Her brother had helped her find it, had checked it out for her. She’d taken her first ride in it with Wes beside her.
It was the one thing she’d bought for herself that had sentimental value. And in the grand scheme of things, the money she’d get for it would only be a drop in the bucket compared to what she needed. Still, if things got desperate… Hah, what a joke. Things couldn’t get much worse.
So okay. That meant they could only get better, right?
That in mind, she slipped behind the wheel and simply sat for a moment. With this heat, she’d definitely begun to glisten. She dropped the top, but the day
was still. Not a leaf stirred. No breeze. It was as if the world held its breath.
She tossed her purse, her suit jacket, and the mustard-yellow yarn on the seat beside her, started the car, and looked both ways. Not another car in sight. What a shame.
Next stop? Tommy’s Texaco. Tommy still pumped his customers’ gas for them. And her car, while fabulous, guzzled fuel faster than Hollywood celebrities changed spouses.
She pulled under the station’s awning and up to the first gas pump.
“Hey, Jenni Beth. What can I do for ya?” Tommy wiped his hands on a grease rag, then tucked it into the hip pocket of his coveralls. He swiped at his forehead with one hand and turned his ball cap backward over a mass of wiry, copper-colored hair.
“Fill it up, Tommy.”
“You got it.” He unscrewed her gas cap. “You know, y’all ever decide you don’t want this car no more, I’ll be more than happy to take it off your hands. Give you a fair price for it, too.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She slid out and headed inside the Texaco station. Boy, her lucky day. She’d had an offer on both her house and her car, neither of which she had any intention of selling.
But what if she had to? A sick knot settled in the pit of her stomach, and she chewed her bottom lip. Maybe she’d been too hasty in quitting her job. A leave of absence might have made more sense.
She looked over her shoulder, out the window. Tommy ran a hand over her car’s fender the way another man, a man like Cole, might caress a woman’s leg or shoulder or… Whew! Enough.
With or without Richard’s help, she’d find a way to keep her car, her house, and start her business. She could and would have it all.
Failure? Not an option. Darlene might give in and give up, but she couldn’t. If she failed, her parents would have nothing. Worry nagged at her.
She opened the cooler door. Water. If the weatherman was right, today’s temperature would reach sizzle by noon. She needed to stay hydrated.
Tommy walked in, mopping at his forehead again. “Dang, it’s hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk.”
“Yes, it is. I can’t wait to get out of these clothes and into something cooler.”
“You look real nice in them, Jenni Beth. That red’s a good color on ya.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Tommy. I’ll take these, too.” She set the water bottle and a Three Musketeers candy bar on the counter, then swiped her credit card.
Back in the car, she uncapped the water and took a long, cool drink before nibbling at her creamy chocolate treat. Mmmm. Heaven.
On the way home, the wind whipped through her hair and Rascal Flatts serenaded her. For just these few moments, she’d let go, enjoy. Reality could take a short vacation.
Springtime in the Low Country. If she lived to be a hundred, she swore she wouldn’t tire of it. She passed houses tucked at the ends of long lanes, a riot of azaleas splashing bright pink, coral, and dark purple through the yards. Flowering dogwoods added their pale pink and white to the palette. Live oaks, dripping Spanish moss, stood guardian.
God, despite everything, she was glad to be alive today.
A vision of Wes, laughing, singing along with the radio, flashed through her mind, and she caught her breath. Would she ever again think of him without pain fogging her brain?
And thoughts of Wes carried right on through to thoughts of his best buddy, Cole.
Way before she reached home, she’d eaten the entire candy bar, licked the melted chocolate from her fingers, and chewed off her remaining lipstick. She probably should have been nicer to Cole today. For two reasons. The first? Guilt. Even though she was inarguably justified in calling him a dog, this constant fighting and bickering made her feel disloyal to her brother.
Second—and she acknowledged this was totally selfish—without a doubt, she’d need Cole’s help. Nobody else in town could do what he could.
It galled her, but if they crossed paths again, she’d have to be nicer.
She’d tried that before and where had it gotten her? Dumped. Right before the senior prom.
True, she and Cole had never actually dated. Wes had thought himself in love with Sadie Wilson, whose father wouldn’t allow her to single-date. Determined to take her to the prom, Wes had strong-armed Cole into asking his pesky little sister so they could double-date.
Jenni Beth, with her mad crush, had been over the moon.
But Cole, the cad, had reneged the day before the big dance—after she’d bought her dress, her shoes, and told everyone she had a date. That beautiful gown and no guy. Worse, the social disgrace. To a sixteen-year-old it had been the ultimate humiliation. She’d ended up going with Angus Duckworth. The name said it all.
And Cole? As Angus stomped all over her feet, Cole had waltzed in with Kimmie Atherton, Misty High’s head cheerleader, on his arm.
Jenni Beth had cried buckets over that.
She downshifted and turned into her lane.
Far worse, though? She hadn’t learned a thing. Had been dumb enough to give him a second chance. When she’d been twenty-two—nope, not even going there.
She didn’t need that third strike. Two and she’d declared Mr. Cole Bryson out. Definitely out. And who could blame her?
Chapter 5
“Mother? Daddy? Anybody home?”
Jenni Beth bent down and pulled off her shoes, then wiggled her toes. Oh, that felt good. She flung the red jacket that had been so crisp this morning over the newel post.
Charlotte stuck her head around the kitchen door. “Your mama taught you to take care of your things. Get that jacket off there, and hang it up the way you oughta. I’m not gonna be the one to iron it when it’s all wrinkled.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She retrieved the jacket and held it in her hands. “It’s really warming up.”
“Don’t I know it! Thought I’d scrub those patio chairs. Huh! Got one done and called it quits.”
Almost afraid to hear the answer, Jenni Beth asked, “Where’re Mama and Daddy?”
“If you’d be still a minute, a body could tell you.” Her dark brown eyes softened. “They’re down by the lake with their coffee.”
Uh-oh. Not good.
Her father’s go-to plan when her mother unraveled always included a walk down by the lake. The water settled her nerves.
Jenni Beth closed her eyes, sensed the beginnings of a headache. Losing Wes had been difficult for all of them, but her mother was having the hardest time with it. Understandable. Her firstborn. Her only son. So many families hugged sons and daughters and sent them off to war. Too many never returned. It had happened since the beginning of time, but that didn’t make it any easier.
Tears swam in Jenni Beth’s eyes, and she blinked them away. She wanted to turn back time. Wanted Wes to come traipsing in with muddy boots, wanted Charlotte to chew him out.
She wanted her parents happy again. It was the ultimate frustration not to be able to help them. She’d never felt so helpless.
“Did something happen to upset Mama?”
“Cole called.”
Her mouth dropped open in disbelief. “He called here?”
“He wanted to check on them. Asked if there was anything needed to be done around the house he could help with.”
“Oh!” Jenni Beth shook her head. “That underhanded, scheming—”
“Jennifer Elizabeth, you watch that mouth.” Her mother’s voice cut into her tirade. “That’s no way to talk about your brother’s friend.”
Sue Ellen Beaumont breezed into the foyer. Even her red-rimmed eyes couldn’t dim her beauty. Her poise.
“Are you okay?” She moved to her mother and wrapped her arms around her, shocked again at how thin she’d become.
“I’m fine, honey.”
She looked over her mother’s head, raised her brows at her father. He gave an almost imperc
eptible nod.
Hands on her mother’s shoulders, she said, “Cole Bryson is up to no good, Mama. He wants this house. He’d like nothing better than to dismantle it and sell it, piece by piece.”
“But that’s not going to happen, is it?” Her mother smiled and laid a hand on the side of her daughter’s face. “Because you have a brilliant plan that will save us and Magnolia House.”
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on her, Sue Ellen.” Her father, always so tall, so handsome and proud, looked stooped from the weight he carried. The worry and sadness.
Jenni Beth hated that and vowed she’d do whatever it took to make things right again.
They’d been scraping along until that unfortunate business deal Richard had mentioned. Her dad, so vulnerable in the months after his son’s death, had gotten involved in a scam. He’d invested—and lost—what little savings they had left, including Wes’s life insurance. That had been the final straw for her father. It had broken his spirit.
Her mother, normally a fighter, masked her own desolation over their finances rather than hurt her husband with recriminations.
The Beaumonts of Misty Bottoms were dragging butt.
If Jenni Beth hadn’t been so busy in Savannah, she might have averted at least that disaster. Twenty-twenty hindsight.
Whether out of compassion or because he didn’t want the money leaving his bank, Richard Thorndike had tried to talk her dad out of the risky investment, and that earned him a few points in her book. Coupled with her dad’s loyalty, it had been enough for her to go to him today.
“Richard approved the loan, didn’t he?” her mother asked. Worry lines creased her forehead. “You didn’t run into any problems?”
Not wanting to upset her mother again, Jenni Beth put on a good face. “Everything went fine. Richard will have an answer for me sometime this week.”
“Why not today?”
“Because he has bosses to answer to,” her father said. “He needs to get approval on something this big.”
“It’s not all that big, Daddy, but you nailed it. Those are Richard’s words, almost to the letter.” Her nervous fingers wadded the jacket into a ball. Shoot! She shot a glance at Charlotte and shook it out. “Think I’ll run up and change.”
Best Laid Wedding Plans Page 4