“Oh heavens.” Mrs. Hart shook her head. “I remember that day. We had the Ladies Art League luncheon here at the house.”
Louise, another of the Merry Widows, looked up from her cards. “I wonder if Thelma’s little raccoon incident is why we’ve never done that lunch here again?”
“Little incident?” Thelma glared at Louise. “That animal was trapped in my car for a short while—”
“Not sure he agrees that a five hour luncheon is a short while,” Ralph chimed in.
“Whatever!” Thelma waved him off. “The thing defecated all over the car, scratched all the doors, tore up the seats, and if that wasn’t enough, peed in the vents.”
“It was a bit of a mess,” Fiona Hart said sweetly.
“I love you, Fiona, but that has to be the understatement of all time,” Thelma said. “I had to buy a gas mask just to clean it out enough and drive it to the body shop. In the end, the insurance company had to total a practically new car.”
“New? Wasn’t that the Oldsmobile?” Floyd asked.
“It was. Loved that ’88.”
“They stopped making Oldsmobiles in 2004,” Floyd deadpanned.
“Doesn’t matter. It was in pristine condition with low mileage and those beautiful Corinthian leather seats.” Thelma sighed.
“Those seats were Chrysler,” Ralph corrected. “And there’s no such thing as Corinthian Leather. It was a marketing ploy that made Chrysler a hell of a lot of money.”
“Whatever,” Thelma snapped. “The point is it was a beautiful car. Still like new and those blasted raccoons ruined my baby.”
“You never did have much luck with cars. Didn’t a pack rat nest under your hood?”
Thelma rolled her eyes skyward. “Don’t remind me. At least it wasn’t a sewer rat or they would have eaten the wires.”
“I don’t think Jerry at the gas station has ever forgotten opening the hood and all those plastic bags and leaves from the nest falling on his head.” Ralph chuckled.
At that exact moment Logan glanced at Rose the same way he’d done over and over this evening, only this time she laughed at the banter and looked up, her gaze meeting his. Her amused grin shifted to a sweet smile and Logan thought he would gladly put up with snakes, raccoons and pack rats if it meant spending more time with Rose Preston.
* * * *
Rose had no idea why she bothered working, she’d lost track of her project at least two hands ago. Instead she was fascinated watching Logan interact with her friends and family. Especially her grandfather. He had just the right mix of familiarity and respect, and she admired that.
“We found the culprit.” Cindy emerged from inside the house, a dish of Lily’s cake in one hand, a fork in the other, and her sister Poppy and Lily on her heel. “I just got a text from Nadine. She’s working dispatch tonight and got a call from city hall. The mayor.”
“The mayor?”
Cindy dropped into the seat beside Rose. “The one and only. Apparently, her son failed to mention that his pet snake Igor has been missing for two weeks. At first he thought he’d find it somewhere in the house, and then he figured it was gone for good.”
“Interesting. The mayor doesn’t live that far,” Ralph looked up from his cards, “but she doesn’t live that close either.”
“My guess,” the General said, “is he found his way into the sewer line looking for a water source and followed his way into our beloved home.”
A bowl of ice cream in her hand, Poppy practically collapsed into the seat on the other side of Rose.
“Another long day?” Rose asked.
“Now half the new moms in the congregation are petitioning the pastor to convince the board to go for the Mother’s Day Out program.”
“If that many people want it, what’s the problem?” Cindy asked.
Poppy swallowed a spoonful of butter pecan. “And there’s my problem, because every last one of them has come and sat in front of my desk asking me that exact same question.”
“What about the pastor?” Lily dragged the rocker closer to her sisters. “Shouldn’t he be fielding his parishioners?”
“He does, but he can only deal with one at a time and you know who gets the overflow.”
“It sounds to me like tonight’s the night for that wine on the beach.” Rose grinned. “Since we couldn’t do it a couple of nights ago.”
“Do we have the fixings for s’mores?” Poppy asked.
“Have you not ever looked in Lucy’s pantry?” Lily rolled her eyes. “That’s like asking if the Pope is Catholic.”
Poppy burst out laughing. “I know. What was I thinking?”
“Then we’re on?” Rose looked from Poppy to Cindy to Lily. All nodded.
“Cole’s working tonight so I’m free as the proverbial bird.”
“What about Callie?” Poppy asked. “Anyone talk to her today?”
“I think they had practice tonight,” Cindy answered. “But I bet she’ll stop by afterward. She usually needs adult recharging after spending a few hours with energized teens.”
“That she does.” Lily nodded. “Besides, who can resist s’mores.”
“And wine,” three voices echoed, then all four burst into snickering laughs like a gaggle of teenagers keeping secrets from boys.
Speaking of which, Rose looked over to where Logan had tossed down a card and scooped up another trick. He really was on a hot streak.
“I’ll call Iris.” Poppy reached for her phone.
“I thought she’s in New York?” Lily asked.
Poppy sighed and slid the phone back into her pocket. “That’s right. They’re all visiting Aunt Marissa. I swear I feel like this week has just been one crazy long day.”
“All right.” Lily pushed to her feet. “I’ll go raid the pantry. One of you hit the wine bar.”
“Done.” Cindy followed her sister into the house.
“Are you heading home?” Grams asked Poppy.
“Nope.” Rose’s cousin grinned. “We’re heading to the beach.”
Grams dipped her chin and nodded. “Someone save me a s’more.”
“You should totally join us,” her youngest granddaughter said.
“Yes,” Rose chimed in. She couldn’t remember the last time her grandmother had told them stories of growing up on the mountain and roasting marshmallows by the shore.
Grams shook her head. “Not tonight, girls. But I’ll take a rain check. You should invite Mr. Buchanan. I think he’s done enough old codger duty. Besides, I think there could be a mutiny if he and your grandfather win another hand.” Always looking graceful in her colorful dresses, Rose’s grandmother set her pile of braided fabric aside and stood.
It didn’t take much convincing from her grandmother for Logan to agree. “May I do anything to help?”
He followed Poppy and Rose into the kitchen after Lily and Cindy. Arms laden with graham crackers, bags of marshmallows, chocolate bars, plates, napkins, skewers, and of course wine and glasses, the five made it halfway to the shore when headlights flickered on them.
“That’s either Callie or Alan,” Cindy said.
Poppy shielded her eyes toward the house with her free arm. “Unless Alan has grown a ponytail, I think that’s Callie.”
“Callie it is.” Rose waited for her cousin to spot the migrating crowd and waved for her to join them.
“What a great idea!” Callie ran up to the group. “It’s been too long since we’ve done a bonfire.”
“Oh, we can do you one better.” Rose held a box of graham crackers and Callie’s eyes rounded with delight.
Lily chuckled and held up a bottle of red wine. “Nothing goes with chocolate like a good Cab.”
“Man,” Callie looped her arm around her nearest sister, “I knew there was a reason I love you guys.”
Logan muffled a low laugh.
“Something funny, Cowboy?” Rose prodded.
“Since I wasn’t blessed with a sister, it’s kind of fun to see life wouldn’t
be very different if I had, except there’d be beer instead of wine, and chips and salsa instead of s’mores. But all in all, there’d still be love and laughter.”
“Amen to that.” Not many people got the connection the nine cousins shared. Families like hers, and apparently Logan’s too, seemed to be growing scarce. Heck, she knew a lot of families where the siblings barely spoke to each other once they left the house, and sadly even a few who had not spoken to each other in years and probably never would.
Through the years, starting the bonfires had been Cindy’s job. No one really remembered how she became the designated fire starter, but with an ease that came from years of practice, she had the flames reaching for the sky before Poppy had finished handing out the extra-long skewers the General had made ages ago for nights just like this.
She handed the last one off to Logan. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” The Texan stabbed at one marshmallow then another.
“A double sugar rush man,” Rose teased.
He dangled the white fluffs over the fire “What can I tell you, I’m a growing boy.” Tipping his head to one side, he flashed that winning smile she’d become quite fond of.
“I bet you were a handful growing up.” She kept her stick hovering near the fire.
“You know it’s going to take all night to toast at that distance.” He casually waved his free hand in the direction of her slowly browning treat.
Her gaze shifted to the flames shooting from the middle of the bonfire. “I don’t like mine burned.”
“Neither do I.” He shrugged.
“Then you may have a problem.” She pointed to the end of his stick. “Your marshmallows are on fire.”
His eyes popped open wide and quickly he pulled the stick out of the flames and blew hard to put out the near raging fire, then turned to face her. Another smile teased one corner of his mouth. “Maybe slow and easy is better.”
“Always.” She grinned at him. For just a few long moments her cousins’ laughter and banter slid away and they were the only two people on the sandy shore. It was a nice feeling.
“Look, shooting star.” Poppy waved an arm up to the sky. “Tis the season.”
“Man, that one’s bright.” Callie lifted her gaze to the heavens. “I love nights like this. Especially this time of year. It’s like our own private light show.”
“Yeah,” Rose added. How long had it been since she’d been so totally and completely relaxed? Too long. And how long since she’d enjoyed the company of a nice guy? Even longer.
“Wow.”
She turned to see Logan leaning back on one elbow, staring up.
“I forget how much the nearby Dallas lights fight the stars.”
“That’s a shame.”
“It is.” He continued looking up as if trying to memorize each and every twinkle. “We see more stars than the folks who live in Dallas county proper, but it’s nothing like this. And certainly no shooting stars.”
“I know. Having people refer to the sky as black velvet makes sense when you’re not in Boston.”
“Or Dallas.”
“Or Dallas,” she repeated after him.
“Hey,” Callie snapped straight, dragging her gaze back to earth. “Isn’t the best night for the annual meteor shower coming up?”
“Night after tomorrow,” Cindy answered quickly. “I was thinking about taking Alan up to Eagle Point to watch.”
“Oh,” Lily rubbed her hands together, “what a great idea.”
“You guys do remember,” Callie chimed in, “the best viewing is after two in the morning.”
“Which is why I’m only thinking about it,” Cindy said.
Callie shook her head and sighed. “Not me. I have to deal with a camp full of sugar-rushed teens starting at eight in the morning. I need all the rest I can get before facing them and hanging out on a mountain top at two a.m. isn’t going to help any.”
“Of course we’ve had lots of clouds the last few days.” Cindy slid her toasted marshmallow between two graham crackers. “If it’s a cloudy night it will all be a moot point.”
“You forgot the chocolate.” Callie pointed to the graham cracker and marshmallow sandwich her cousin was about to bite into.
“I didn’t forget. I didn’t want any.”
“What?” Poppy almost dropped her skewer in the fire. “That’s sacrilege not to have chocolate in a s’more.”
“So sue me.” Cindy licked the oozing marshmallow from the sides of the cracker sandwich and moaned with delight. “Sometimes simple is so good.”
“Agreed.” Lily bit into her traditional s’more.
Enjoying the easy communing with her cousins, Rose had forgotten all about making her own s’more when a neatly assembled sugar delight appeared in front of her.
“I promise it’s not burned.” Logan waited for her to accept the offering.
“Thanks.” She smiled.
“I was thinking.” He stabbed at another marshmallow with his stick and held it to the fire. “This meteor shower.”
Thankful for something to do with her hands and a mouthful full of s’more to keep her quiet, she merely nodded at him.
“I’ve heard about this before. Hadn’t realized I’d be in the Northeast at the same time. It’s supposed to be a pretty spectacular show.”
“It is,” she concurred, shoving another morsel into her mouth before she said something stupid and romantic too.
“If I stay up to see the show in person, would you care to join me?”
She couldn’t have stopped the smile that took over her face even if she’d wanted to. “I’ll even bring the blanket.”
“Deal.” Slowly, he turned his gaze back to the glowing fire.
For the first time in a long time the last thing on Rose’s mind was work, to-do lists, and color-coded binders. And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing at all.
Chapter Nine
Logan had barely crossed over the threshold into Hart House when Lucy grinned up at him. “Breakfast will be ready to serve in just a few.”
When he’d agreed to indulge Lucy and let her feed him for the rest of the trip, he hadn’t realized that meant from now on he would be imbedded at the Hart family table. Not that it was a bad thing. Especially if it meant spending more time with Rose Preston. Still, a small part of him felt terribly guilty. To him it was akin to taking advantage under false pretenses. The snake really wasn’t dangerous, and there wasn’t anything brave or heroic about putting the thing in a pillow case to wait for Cindy to come get it.
“The General is already in the dining room. Take a seat and I’ll bring in a fresh batch of hot food.” Before he could blink, she was off and hurrying into the kitchen.
What he’d really like at the moment was a good, strong, and hot cup of coffee. Not long after they’d begun roasting marshmallows last night, Cindy’s fiancé joined the crowd on beach. The sugar rush had kept everybody talking, laughing, and wide-awake until well after midnight. Callie and Poppy had been the first to leave, blaming early morning work. Cindy, on the other hand, insisted unlike her early-to-rise counterparts, she’d inherited their grandmother Lawford’s night owl genes. Shortly after one in the morning, she had stood and announced that night owl or not, she should at least get some sleep before dealing with her patients in the morning. That had left only him and Rose watching the embers blow out and finishing the last drops of wine.
By two o’clock, despite the nonstop conversation covering almost every embarrassing or hilarious moment in their lives from the age of four on, Rose’s eyelids were beginning to droop. So much so that she reminded him of his youngest brother, Carson. As a baby, he hadn’t wanted to miss anything. Batting eyelashes desperately attempted to remain awake only to succumb to the call of the night. Like Carson, Rose was fighting a losing battle. Despite not wanting their time together to end, he knew with the tournament only a few days away she still had a long to-do list and needed to get at least some sleep, preferably in a comfortable
bed. Reluctantly, he’d insisted they call it a night.
“Good morning.” Standing by a massive silver coffee urn, Rose appeared a tad too cheerful for someone who’d had as little sleep as he’d had. “Would you like a cup?”
“Yes, thank you.”
She handed him two packets of sugar and the steaming mug of hot morning brew she’d just poured. For some reason, that she’d remembered how many sugars he used made his morning feel just a pinch brighter. When she slid the milk decanter in his direction and smiled up at him, the final gesture made his day. Adding a touch of milk to her own freshly filled cup, Rose turned and took a seat at the table. Her animated conversation with the General picked up where it had left off when Logan had entered the room. Clearly unlike Cindy, Rose had inherited the General’s early morning genetics.
“And here we go.” Lucy strolled into the room carrying a large baking dish and set it on the buffet in front of him. “This is my French toast casserole. I waited for you to arrive. It’s best when fresh out of the oven. Enjoy. Eggs will be here in a moment.”
He didn’t doubt anything that Lucy cooked would be worthy of a five star restaurant. Scooping a spoonful of casserole onto his plate, he added a few strips of bacon from a nearby platter and spun about, almost tripping over one of the dogs. “Well, good morning. Which one are you?”
“That’s Sarge,” Rose offered.
Setting his plate down, he scratched the dog’s ears. “I suppose you want some scraps.”
“Nope.” The General shook his head. “Not in this house.”
Rose rolled her eyes and he shrugged a shoulder at the pup. “Sorry, buddy. You heard the General.”
Plate in hand, he took one short step before the second dog trotted up to him.
“Sorry girl, same deal. No food.”
The second pup rubbed up against him with such force he had to take a step aside, only to bump into Sarge again.
Rose tapped the seat beside her. “You’d better sit before those two send you flying and waste all that good food.”
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