Swamps and Soirees: A Summerbrook Novel

by Vicki Wilkerson

  In moments, the gorgeous blonde made her way across the room, and his mother made her way out of it.

  If only Hanna could look like that for just one day in her life. With white-blond hair and creamy skin, the color of porcelain. But she was vexed with thick, dark curls and sun-seasoned skin that looked like she worked on a farm.

  “Hello, Furman,” the beautiful woman said. “Looks like you’ve got plenty of money tonight.”

  Furman turned around, saw who’d just greeted them and then swept the room with his eyes as if he was looking for someone. “Yeah, I thought I’d flaunt it a little.”

  What? Hanna was completely confused. Plenty of money? Flaunting it? Something was going on, and no one had bothered to explain it to her. She knew one thing about polite society. One didn’t question another’s money situation.

  “Hanna, this is Claudette Westbury.”

  Claudette smiled a plastic smile and extended what looked like a perfect mannequin-like hand. “And your name is?”

  He spoke again. “I’ve already said. Hanna.”

  “But I didn’t get her last name, Furman.”

  “I’m sorry, Claudette. We were just heading over to speak to someone. Maybe we can catch up later.”

  Hanna wasn’t stupid and could tell this was some kind of verbal game. Probably initiated by his mother.

  “I hope so because I have a million things to tell you since we met for lunch last week.” She looked over her shoulder. “I had to come with that boring Jefferson Burgess because you wouldn’t return my calls.” She leaned into Hanna’s space and rolled her eyes. “Commitment phobia. They practically all have it these days.”

  “Nice meeting you,” Hanna said as Furman whisked her away.

  What was going on? Maybe he was embarrassed of her. Which was fine and understandable, but why did he even invite her in the first place? He knew she didn’t belong here as much as she did. It didn’t get past her that he purposely avoided telling Claudette her last name. Rudder. It sounded muddy and ruddy even if you didn’t know the name’s cloudy heritage.

  Hanna Rudder was in an historic social hall at a high-fa-luting black and white gala where she didn’t belong. And wearing her short red dress wasn’t the worst of it all. It was hiding her “nobody” name, which made her feel separated from everyone else. Why on Earth did Furman bring her here?

  ⸙

  “There’s someone I want you to meet,” Furman said as he kept Toleman Sterling in his sights. Toleman was one of the reasons he wanted to invite Hanna to the dinner he had been roped in to attending. That and a whole list of other reasons. Selfish reasons.

  He did want to make up for his mother’s outrageous hysterics at the house over her roses. He didn’t want to come to the gala with Claudette. And he didn’t want to be cornered into non-stop conversation with the ever-complaining, busy-body motor-mouth if he came alone. But those were all just excuses.

  He really wanted to get to know the smart, beautiful, dark-haired woman beside him. Why did she seem so timid? How did she get so smart with numbers? And when had he ever met anyone so capable, agreeable and compassionate?

  It seemed like everyone she knew, she helped—her cousin, her aunt and uncle, and even him. She didn’t know him from Adam and she was willing to do him a favor. In this look-out-for-number-one society, she was a rarity.

  And she was way too easy on the eyes. Her hair made soft raven-colored circles down her delicate back. Her arms and face were lightly bronzed by the sun, and her midnight eyes twinkled like a million miniature stars had found their way into them. He could get lost in their infinity.

  And he was glad she had worn red. It caused everyone in the room to look his way. Most of the men would envy him. And the women, her—even if they wouldn’t admit it. How could they help but envy her? Didn’t all women admire beauty as rare as hers?

  Hanna didn’t know it yet, but he was going to pay dearly tonight for Hanna’s red dress faux pas in more ways than one. But it didn’t matter to him. She was worth it.

  Moving his head from side to side, he drew himself out of his thoughts. He had some work to do here.

  He slapped Toleman on the back. “It’s been ages, man. How have you been?”

  “That doesn’t matter, boy. Who is this lovely woman on your arm tonight?” The portly gray-haired man gave Hanna a smile and a good staring over.

  A strange sensation crept up Furman’s spine, and he had second thoughts about what he was doing. “Hanna Rudder,” he said. “Hanna, this is Toleman Sterling, head of Sterling Financial in downtown Charleston. He owns brokerage firms and insurance companies all over.”

  She looked up at Furman in amazement.

  “The most successful investment company in the entire Southeast,” Toleman bragged.

  “I know. I mean…I’ve heard.” She reached out her hand and smiled. “I’m honored to meet you, sir.”

  “This woman here is amazing,” Furman said.

  Toleman gave her a little shoulder hug. “Well, everyone in this room can see that. She’s stunning.”

  Hanna smiled, but looked uncomfortable.

  That same heated sensation ran through Furman again. What was it—protection, jealousy, anger? He had to get his head into this and away from the uneasy feelings he was experiencing. “No. Well, yes. But I mean with numbers. She can crunch and sort them with the best.” Furman smiled at Hanna. “And she’s interested in investing.”

  “Family money?” Toleman asked. “Is that why you wore that lovely dress?”

  Hanna started to open her mouth, but she had a look of confusion in her eyes. She didn’t understand the dress question.

  “No. Investing for other people. She has a degree in finance.”

  “From where?” Toleman asked.

  Furman had hoped he wouldn’t ask that. Palmetto State University was a fine university, even though it was rather small. But it wasn’t a prestige school. College snobbery was everywhere in Charleston. Anyone could tick off the list in its priority. Harvard, Yale or Princeton—if you had the connections. Clemson, Citadel or the University of South Carolina if you lived in the Palmetto State. All the others followed.

  “Palmetto State University. I went there on a scholarship,” Hanna returned.

  “Oh, that’ll get someone to change their mind about another school fast. Can’t turn down free money.” Toleman said. “And what are you doing now?”

  “Working for my uncle. A little accounting, amongst other things,” she said.

  She definitely knew how to accentuate assets and leave out the superfluous.

  “Well, young lady, we’re always on the prowl for new talent—especially when it comes in such a pretty package. Our best get stolen or move on all the time. I’d ask you to come in for an interview, but right now our house is full.” He put his hand on the small of her back as a waiter came by with a tray full of hors d’oeuvres. “Dear, have you had one of these little shrimp things?”

  Furman was rattled by the attention the older man was giving her. She looked at Furman. He could tell that she was, too. Maybe he wouldn’t like her working for Toleman after all.

  ⸙

  No. Hanna wasn’t interested in any little shrimp thing. No. She wasn’t interested in letting the old man presumptuously place his hand on her back. She didn’t know him. She moved away from his grasp.

  Furman touched her elbow. “Toleman, we’ve got some rounds to make still. Let me know if anything comes up for Hanna. It was good to see you again.”

  “You too, son. And how’s your father?”

  “Not well, but we’re managing.”

  That would have been the first question Hanna would have asked if she had known his dad for years. In fact, it was as soon as the two had hopped into the car to head downtown. To these people, though, it almost seemed as if the old man was an afterthought.

  Hanna didn’t feel like an afterthought, though. Furman had thought enough of her that he brought her here to get an improm
ptu job interview. She knew he wasn’t really interested in her. He was interested in being charitable—like everybody in the room tonight. That was kind, and it needed to be enough.

  The beautiful blonde walked up to them again and grabbed Furman’s arm. “Okay, Furman. You’ve avoided me long enough.” She looked at Hanna. “You don’t mind if I borrow your date, do you?”

  She shook her head. But she did. Even though technically he wasn’t even a date now…simply a charitable man, looking to give her a hand up—now that she’s ready.

  “She’s not a library. And if she were, I’m already checked out this evening, Claudette. By Hanna.”

  “Well, your mother asked if I could help with the Jasmine Society Planning Committee dinner at her house. Said you had already messed things up once, and I thought that if we had lunch again next—”

  He moved closer to Hanna. “I’m sorry, but Hanna is helping me plan the event.”

  No she wasn’t. She didn’t want to help at all, but if she did, she was merely going to be his servant in the kitchen that night. With the catering crew.

  “Really, Furman. What shall I tell your mother?” Claudette put her hands upon her skinny hips.

  Just to make matters worse, his mother walked up to the little group. “What are you young people organizing over here?”

  “Evelynn, I don’t believe Furman wants my help with the dinner party,” Claudette said.

  “Don’t be silly. He doesn’t know a thing about planning dinners and parties. At first he agreed to have them serve some kind of…country gumbo at the gathering.” His mother and Claudette laughed in unison.

  Hanna wanted to die. Furman knew it was she who had suggested the okra soup that had gotten so many sneers and giggles.

  “Mother, shouldn’t you be getting back to the hospital and Father?”

  She ignored his question. “Isn’t Claudette lovely tonight, Furman?” His mother looked at her beautiful protégé. “She’s wearing Oscar couture.” She turned to Hanna. “Who are you wearing tonight, dear?”

  Hanna had to answer. She just had to. “I’m wearing a Della original. Custom made.”

  “I’ve never seen a hem treatment like that. It’s exquisite—even if it is red. I hope you’ve brought your checkbook, son.”

  Why is everyone talking about money when they see her dress?

  Claudette examined the fabric. “Is Della a new design house?”

  “Look at that time, ladies. We’ve got to run. I’ll talk to you in the morning, Evelynn.”

  He grabbed Hanna’s elbow and escorted her toward the door. She was never so happy to get out of a pickle in all her life. And Furman was gentleman enough to see to it.

  But before he could get her to the exit, the elderly lady that was stationed at the door stopped them. “Furman, honey.” The woman’s voice was filled with Southern elegance. She looked Hanna up and down. “You do remember the rules of the ball, don’t you? We can take care of this right here.”

  Rules? Taking care of what? What had Hanna done now?

  “Yes, ma’am.” He reached into his tuxedo jacket pocket and pulled out a check. “Do you have a pen?

  “Of course, I do. The theater company can use the extra.” The elderly lady smiled at Hanna while Furman wrote.

  “So what’s the damage?”

  “Well, it’s two-hundred per plate—even though you’re not dining with us. And ten-thousand for the...um, red dress.”

  Oh, my God! Had Hanna just caused the kind man ten-thousand dollars? By wearing a fifty-dollar dress? That she shouldn’t have worn?

  He continued to write out the check—like he was buying groceries at the Piggly Wiggly.

  Hanna had never had a panic attack before, but she thought she was having one now. Ten-thousand dollars!

  “How’s your boat building hobby going?” the elegant older woman asked.

  “Saw-dusty. And it’s more than a hobby.” He handed her the check. “Goodnight, Mrs. Harbison.”

  What had just gone on? This whole night was such a mistake. Such a mistake. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked in a hushed, but panicked tone as they walked through the door.

  “It wasn’t important,” he said. “I was going to donate a sizable amount more anyway,”

  She carefully put down her foot upon each step. She’d had enough humiliation for one night. All she needed was to do a Humpty Dumpty down the granite steps.

  “Please tell me exactly what just happened,” she pleaded, keeping her sight trained on the treads.

  He stopped on the landing between the flights of stairs. “One of the rules of the ball states that invitees have to pay an extra ten-thousand dollars on top of their required dinner donation if he or a guest wears something other than black or white. But after our talk the other night, I wanted you to meet Toleman—no matter how you were dressed.” They stood staring at one another in the warm, spring breeze as it blew strands of her hair around. He brushed the waves away from her face. He leaned toward her and past her lips and touched her ear with his mouth. For a moment she thought…

  He whispered. “And I wanted to kiss you.”

  “Oh.”

  But he didn’t. He moved away from her like a gentleman, and led her down the rest of the flight.

  She was quiet all the way to the car. So, he was interested in her—at least before the soiree. Surely he saw now that nothing more than a business arrangement should pass between them. It was why he didn’t kiss her.

  “So, where would you like to eat?” He cranked his Volvo. “It’s late enough now that I think we can get in somewhere without reservations. What about Grill 221?”

  Funny how pieces of stories and fairy tales kept running through her head. At that moment, she completely understood how Dorothy felt when she’d said, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.” Hanna wanted to be in Four Hole so badly, she could practically smell the low, wet lands around the butcher shop.

  She didn’t have much of an appetite, but she’d already ruined most of Furman’s evening. It seemed to her that she didn’t have much of a choice. “Grill 221 is fine.” It wasn’t, but she’d said the words anyway.

  There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. She’d much rather be there and endure the stares of her stuffed swamp friends than the glares of his society associates.

  Even Cinderella had had better fortune than Hanna. At least she’d dressed appropriately and escaped her ball before the clock struck twelve. But not Hanna. No. Hanna had arrived at the ball in her unsuitably red garb. For all the world to see that she didn’t belong.

  Glancing down at her watch, she realized that her evening of torment wasn’t nearly over yet. If only she could speed the hands of time, click her red shoes and be back in Kansas, get in her magic pumpkin and be ratted away.

  But instead of escaping, she was on her way to dinner.

  Grill 221 occupied an expansive space on the ground floor of a fancy downtown hotel. The waiter sat them at a table by the window.

  “Is this okay?” Furman asked. He seemed pleased.

  “This is wonderful.” It was. And he had every right to be pleased with himself—getting them into a nice restaurant without reservations, securing a table with a view. She should have been grateful, but the same words kept running through her mind. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.

  The waiter placed her napkin in her lap and handed her a large, elegantly lettered menu. She looked up at Furman. He was still smiling. Handsome and perfect. He could have had any woman at that ball sitting here with him, but instead, he had her. At least her red dress was much more fitting here.

  “May I order for you?” His eyebrows were raised in anticipation of her answer.

  She didn’t know. Should she let him? No guy she’d ever dated had ever asked that. She usually ordered her own sandwiches from Droze’s Barbecue. Was he afraid she’d order incorrectly? Was that even possible? Who knew? “Sure.” At lea
st she was off the hook for that decision. She just had to sit there and look like…like she belonged.

  ⸙

  The evening was turning out to be even better than Furman had planned. He had his beautiful date all to himself. And he had introduced her to Toleman as he had designed. When Toleman had some time to think about how much money his family had invested with him, Toleman would certainly find something for Hanna. Sometimes a good family name and some old money talked and got one through doors. Hanna could do the rest.

  He watched as Hanna’s eyes darted all over the large dining room. Her admiring gaze was childlike and innocent. Her hands remained folded in her lap. He could tell she was more relaxed here. And he didn’t blame her after what Evelynn and her cronies did. He really needed to stop calling his mom Evelynn, but when she gets rude, it seems the only appropriate thing to do and still stay somewhat respectful.

  The waiter returned and broke their silent interaction. “Have you decided?”

  Furman leaned into the table. “I’m assuming steak is okay with you?”

  She nodded and glanced out the window. Charleston was abuzz with tourists and residents enjoying the evening under the palmetto trees that lined the warm, cobblestone streets.

  “Yes, then we’ll have the filet mignon.”

  Hanna turned her head back to the table. Her lips parted, but she didn’t say anything. She just looked up at the waiter with eyes that seemed to question the sanity of the order.

  “Yes, sir. Center cut and aged. Great choice.”

  Yeah. It was probably the most expensive item on the menu, but he was dying to impress her—and make up for the gala. Heck, he’d already dropped ten-thousand on her dress. Why stop now?

  “And your sides, sir?”

  “Fried green tomatoes and garlic roasted mashed potatoes.” He glanced at Hanna again, looking for approval.