Last Chance Family

by Hope Ramsay

“Who would do that?”

  A wicked look crossed her face. “Maybe you could get Wilma to do it.”

  He sat there for a moment as he thought it through. “Oh, my God, Charlene, you are a genius.”

  “I doubt it.” After all, she planned to buy a man she didn’t like much because of a forecast that probably hadn’t happened. She leaned back in her chair feeling exactly like a desperate spinster.

  Angel gave her a probing stare. “Chica, if you do not love the preacher, why are you planning to buy him?”

  “Because the guy I really like is not emotionally available. And I really don’t want to break my heart again.”

  “So you are going to settle for someone you do not really like?”

  “I get to be with Rainbow if I do.”

  “Ah, I see. And this other person? It would not, by any chance, be the older brother of Tim Lake?”

  She sighed. “I’m pathetic. I know. And if I thought for one minute that Mike Taggart might choose to settle down here in Last Chance, I’d be all over him. But he’s never going to stay. He’s a gambler, and he wants to get back to that life. And I can’t change him. If I try, I’m going to break my heart. So I’m going to settle for second best. And you know, I won’t be the first woman who ever did that.”

  CHAPTER

  20

  The Cut ’n Curl beauty shop was busy. The usual Saturday regulars were there—Aunt Millie, Thelma Hanks, and Lessie Anderson—when Charlene arrived for her “makeover.” Miriam Randall was absent, thank goodness.

  Charlene didn’t want the old lady to take back her matrimonial forecast. She wanted to believe in it. She wanted to pretend that the stuff Savannah Randall had told Angel applied to her, too. After all, veterinary science could be called medicine.

  So Charlene had embraced the whole idea of finding love at the bachelor auction. And now that Saturday had arrived, she couldn’t wait for the fairy-tale moment to happen. She was going for the whole Cinderella thing in a big way, even if she didn’t have a fairy godmother helping her out. Last evening, she’d run up to Orangeburg and bought herself one killer of a party dress for this evening’s soiree.

  Now she needed the hairdo and makeup to pull it all together. She stared at Ruby, the proprietor of the Cut ’n Curl, in the mirror at her beauty station. “I want big, glamorous hair, Ruby.”

  Ruby arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “What? You don’t think I should go for big?”

  “Uh, well, I guess it depends. You are trying to land a preacher, right?”

  Charlene nodded. “But I also need a hairdo that will complement the new dress I bought. It’s black and sequined. And it’s got a mermaid silhouette that shows off my figure. Oh, and it has a terrific sweetheart neckline that should get Tim’s attention.”

  In truth, she looked like a million dollars in that dress. It fit as if someone had tailored it for her. And to sweeten the deal, it had been marked down 50 percent, proving that the Lord did have a plan, and Belk’s was part of it.

  “Um, sweetie,” Aunt Millie said, “are you sure Pastor Tim will like a dress like that? I’ve heard from some of my Methodist friends that he’s a bit… uptight.” She leaned in and whispered the last word in a furtive voice. No one in the shop was a Methodist, but you never knew when one of them might pop in.

  “I heard the same thing,” Thelma said. She sat in one of the dryer chairs, her roots plastered with dye, and her hair standing on end as if she’d seen a ghost or something. “I was talking to Elsie Campbell the other day, and she was saying that his sermons are deadly dull.”

  “I’m sure it’s only because he’s unmarried,” Lessie said. Jane Rhodes, Ruby’s daughter-in-law, bent over Lessie’s hands, working on the old lady’s manicure. “He’s probably a virgin, you know,” Lessie added.

  That shut everyone up for a moment. “You really think so?” Charlene found herself saying right out loud as her stomach twisted itself into a knot.

  “He’s a devout minister,” Thelma said. “I bet he’s never even been to third base with a girl.” And then she grinned. “I think the Methodists are going to be so happy when you and Pastor Tim are married. I’m sure you’ll loosen him up a little.”

  Crap. Did the Methodist ladies expect her to fix him? No, she had sworn off that. She expected to find a soulmate—someone she loved, flaws and all.

  Charlene stared at her reflection in the mirror, catching Ruby’s arch look. It had never even occurred to her that she might be about to fall in love with a man who was that inexperienced. Wow, that didn’t sound like all that much fun, did it?

  “So,” Ruby said, “I think we need to put the hair up in something classic, like a chignon. I’m not sure an uptight, thirty-something, virgin minister could handle you in a dress with a plunging neckline and big hair, too.”

  The Cut ’n Curl’s door opened, and Amanda strode in looking like a woman on a mission. “I’ve been trying to call you for days and days, and you’ve been avoiding me. We need to talk.”

  Oh, boy. Why were her friends lining up against her plan? It was such a perfect plan. It would get her a sober and dull husband and a kid, all in one fell swoop.

  “I don’t want to talk,” Charlene said.

  “Of course you don’t, or you would have answered my calls. But I wouldn’t be a very good friend unless I made you talk. I saw your truck parked out back and figured you were here. And I’m not leaving until I speak my mind.”

  “Amanda, I’m getting my hair done. My mind’s made up.”

  “This is all about Dr. Dave, isn’t it? You’ve been sulking ever since I told you he was gay. And I feel so responsible for what happened. Honey, you don’t have to go throw yourself at Tim Lake just because the man of your dreams isn’t interested in girls.”

  “Dr. Dave is gay?” Aunt Millie said. The other women in the room didn’t look all that surprised. But Millie’s bubble certainly had been burst.

  Amanda turned toward Millie. “Aunt Mil, I hate to tell you this, but everyone knows he’s gay, except maybe you and your niece.”

  “Oh. My. God! Amanda! You’ve just outed him,” Charlene said.

  “Well, it’s about time he climbed out of the closet.”

  “That’s your opinion. But it’s his life and his choice.” Charlene turned and gave the rest of the ladies in the shop a stern look. “Y’all, just remember. What happens in the Cut ’n Curl stays in the Cut ’n Curl.”

  She got nothing but blank stares from the women, who were probably the biggest gossips in town. “I mean it,” Charlene said. “There’s a reason Dave hasn’t wanted to come out, and it would hurt him if y’all started gossiping about him. So please don’t do that.”

  They all closed their mouths and nodded, but Charlene had no faith that any of them would keep this quiet. Aunt Millie would be the first one blabbing all over town.

  Charlene turned in her chair and put her face in her hands. Her life had gotten way too complicated the last few days.

  “Charlene,” Amanda said, “I don’t give a rat’s behind about David Underhill. But I do care about you. And I think the idea of you throwing yourself at a Methodist minister you don’t love is just, well, I hate to say it, but it’s dumb.”

  “Of course I don’t love him. Not yet. All that’s supposed to happen tonight at the party.”

  “Oh, good lord.” Amanda sank down into one of the dryer chairs. “Honey, you’re doing this because Mike Taggart talked you into it, aren’t you?”

  “No.” She didn’t sound all that convincing.

  “Yes, you are. I’ve spoken with Mike. His heart’s in the right place, and I believe he truly thinks you’d make a terrific mother for Rainbow. And you would. But you can’t throw yourself at Pastor Tim because you’re infatuated with the child. And using the rumor about Miriam Randall’s prediction is just wrong. If you and Tim were truly soulmates, you’d know it. Believe me. The minute I saw Grant I knew it.

  “I think Mike started this rumor a
bout Miriam’s prediction. He’s a gambler, honey, and he knows how to play games with people. You want to know how crazy that man is? He almost had me convinced that I should buy Pastor Tim for you, just in case he couldn’t get you to buy the man for yourself.”

  “He tried to get you to buy him for me?”

  “He did. And honey, I had a conversation with Angel on Wednesday. He told me Miriam had no recollection of ever saying one word about you and Tim. I know Angel told you this. So you’re just being ornery and bull-headed. And I wouldn’t be any kind of friend if I didn’t stop you from doing something destructive.”

  Charlene raised her head and looked at Ruby’s reflection in the mirror. Kindness and sympathy filled the hairdresser’s eyes, as if she understood how confusing things were. “Miz Ruby, you give me big, showgirl hair, you hear? I want to walk into that fund-raiser tonight looking like a sex kitten.”

  “Charlene, honey, you don’t mean to buy…” Amanda’s voice faded out when Charlene glared at her in the mirror.

  “I don’t know who I’m going to buy. But you better believe I’m going to buy someone, and I suddenly don’t care if he’s emotionally available. If Miriam Randall has no forecast for me, and I’m destined to become a spinster cat lady, then I’m going to go for one last outrageous fling.”

  CHAPTER

  21

  On Saturday evening, Mike left a long list of instructions for Liz Rhodes, the teenager he’d hired to babysit Rainbow. He felt sort of stupid doing that, since Liz seemed really competent, and besides, she already knew Rainbow from Bible camp. But he couldn’t help himself.

  It only took fifteen minutes to drive to the VFW hall in Allenberg where the bachelor auction would be taking place. But the moment he parked the Hyundai, he had to stifle the urge to call Liz and check in. He had to remind himself that Liz was also the sheriff’s oldest daughter. So if anything happened, she’d know how to get help fast.

  He needed to relax. But relaxation had eluded him the last few days. He hadn’t been sleeping well. Rainbow and Tigger were both rebelling against his plan for helping Rainbow “get over” her affection for her cat.

  Clearly he needed to rethink. Mike certainly had never “gotten over” his affection for Angie. And he had doubts that he’d ever get over his growing affection and concern for Rainbow. And he sure was having a lot of trouble “getting over” his feelings for Charlene, which were admittedly a little on the X-rated side but still very affectionate. Avoiding his curvaceous next-door neighbor wasn’t helping.

  And neither were the cold showers.

  He wondered if he’d still need cold showers when he got back to Vegas. He wondered if he’d be stifling the urge to call Timmy every five minutes to see if he was doing a good job with the kid. He wondered how on earth he could keep his mind on poker when he’d be worrying about Rainbow.

  He heaved a huge sigh and headed toward the front doors of the VFW lodge, a windowless brick building with a big parking lot situated on Main Street in Allenberg. He pushed through the doors and into a small anteroom where tables had been set up for attendees to register for the opportunity to bid on a bachelor.

  In addition to the tables, several big posters had been set up around the foyer with photographs of sad-looking dogs and cats peering through cage bars. Guilt assailed him. In a matter of days, Tigger would probably become one of these cast-off animals. He didn’t exactly love Tigger, but the idea of sending the cat to death row in some animal shelter made him feel like the lowest scum of the earth.

  A tall woman bearing a clipboard and an impatient expression came over to him. She was almost his height and wore an iridescent, light blue formal dress that matched her eye shadow. “You are late,” she said.

  “I’m sorry I was—”

  “I’m Wilma Riley. I’m in charge of the bachelors. And I know all about you, Mike, and the way you and Elsie have been manipulating things.”

  After this speech, Mike wondered what “in charge” meant. By the evil-looking smile on her lips, he had a feeling Wilma’s notion of being in charge would probably irritate him.

  “Uh, you know, Wilma, I’m thinking I ought to come with a disclaimer.”

  She snorted a laugh. “Honey, every man should come with one of those. But to ease your mind, I think our MC is planning to introduce you as a rambler and a gambler, which should tell the ladies all they need to know.”

  “Uh, thanks, I think. But kidding aside, I’m not going to be here for much longer. Maybe only a few days.”

  “Well, that’s typical.” She looked down at her clipboard and rearranged some of the papers. “Now, come on back with me. We’re behind schedule, and I need to rehearse you boys.”

  “Rehearse us? In what?” His stomach churned with acid.

  “Walking the runway, of course.”

  She bustled away, and he followed her into the main hall, which had been decorated with crepe paper streamers in various shades of blue. A runway had been set up perpendicular to the raised stage at the far end of the room. Table rounds, each with white tablecloths and blue flower arrangements, filled the space around the raised platform. Each folding chair sported a white fabric cover and a dark blue bow.

  For all the streamers and flowers and big bows, the place still looked like a VFW hall, with gray linoleum floors and dark paneled walls sporting photos of heroes in uniform and unit citations. The veterans had also spared no expense when it came to the bar. It occupied the front corner of the room, and it looked exceptionally well-stocked. “Uh, Wilma, wait up. I need a beer.”

  She took him by the arm. “Not until after rehearsal.” She led him down to the front of the room where the rest of the victims, including his brother, had convened. Timmy stuck out like a sore thumb. He’d bypassed the tuxedo and had come with his Roman collar firmly in place. And oddly, given that his backward collar looked kind of tight, Timmy managed to look way more comfortable than most of the other guys in their monkey suits.

  “All right, y’all, now that everyone is here.” Wilma gave Mike a little unfriendly glare. “I need to go over what we expect of you. We’ll be having a silent auction for a number of items on the tables around the room. That will take place during the cocktail hour. We want y’all to meet and mingle with the crowd. Especially the single ladies wearing purple bead bracelets. The ladies with the bracelets have paid the fee to participate in the bachelor auction.

  “Precisely at eight p.m., we’ll begin the auction. Grant Trumbull, our local radio personality, will be our master of ceremonies.”

  She pointed to a guy standing at the bar hoisting a beer and wearing a white dinner jacket.

  “Now, when the auction starts,” Wilma rambled on, “each of you will be called by name. You’re to come out from behind that curtain.” She pointed to the navy blue curtain on the stage. “And then strut your stuff down the runway and back. Drew, you’ll be the first one out, and when you’re done, you go stand on top of the masking tape X on the stage floor. The rest of y’all will take a position next to the man who preceded you onto the stage. When the introductions are done, y’all will exit to the left and go backstage. Then each of you will be called out one by one for the auction.”

  “You mean slaughter,” Mike said under his breath.

  This earned him another glare from Wilma.

  “Uh, I have a question,” Timmy said.

  “What is it, Pastor Tim?”

  “What exactly do you mean by strut our stuff?”

  “Don’t you worry, no one expects you to do any strutting. Just come out and walk to the end of the runway and wave and smile. You’ll get a chance to rehearse it all.” She cast her glance over the bachelors wearing tuxes. “I expect Pastor Tim to be the model of restraint. As for the rest of y’all, just remember to keep it clean.”

  Mike cast his gaze over the dozen or so bachelors. They ranged in age from their twenties to their seventies. And they all looked nervous. Especially the guy wearing a white dinner jacket with black lape
ls. His tux didn’t look rented. Which begged the question, who kept a white dinner jacket in his wardrobe?

  Easy answer: James Bond or a seriously gay guy. And this guy looked so nervous he had broken out in a sweat.

  Mike stuck out his hand. “Hello, I’m Mike. I don’t think we’ve met.”

  White dinner jacket guy nodded. “I’ve heard a lot about you. My receptionist is a Methodist, and Charlene is my associate. I’m Dave Underhill. Creature Comforts Animal Hospital is my veterinary practice.”

  So that explained how a gay guy got roped into a man auction. “So, did Charlene win a bet with you, too?”

  “A bet?”

  “Yeah. I’m only here because Charlene bet me that she could get Rainbow to eat broccoli. I was a fool to take that bet.”

  “No, she didn’t bet me. But I kind of had to agree to do this, you know? Being the vet and all.” The guy looked like he needed a stiff drink.

  They all looked like they needed to have their attitudes adjusted.

  “Wilma, sweetie,” Mike said, taking charge of the situation. “I know we’re just a bunch of dumb dudes, but I think we can handle the runway walk without practicing.” He turned toward the rest of the bachelors. “What do you say, guys? I think we should adjourn this meeting to the bar.”

  To a man, the bachelors nodded their heads, even Timmy, who didn’t drink. It was all over for Wilma, as a black-and-white herd of bachelors stampeded to the bar.

  Twenty minutes later, with a beer in hand and a group of guys to bond with, Mike felt much better. Almost in control of himself. Until Charlene Polk walked into the room wearing the sexiest damn dress he’d ever seen in his life.

  Holy God, it looked as if someone had spray-painted that thing on her. It displayed every one of her curves. And that didn’t even count the fact that the neckline showed a ridiculous amount of cleavage. He drank it all in and then he checked out her hair.

  He was done. Charlene looked hot while simultaneously sending out a good-girl vibe. Oh, yeah. How the hell had she known about his terminal weakness for smart, curvaceous, sweet women who knew how to dress trashy?