Southern Hospitality

by Sally Falcon

  “Enid doesn’t believe in nicknames, Victoria. Isn’t that interesting?” T.L. raised his eyebrows and gave her a sickly smile that said, Do something!

  “It’s a shame that Logan is out of town right now,” Tory began, wondering how she could ask if he’d been expecting his mother. Or did he know she was coming and leave town on purpose?

  “Actually I came on the spur of the moment, something I don’t usually do, of course. But I just had to see for myself what Preston had gotten Logan involved in down here.” She smoothed her hand over the skirt of her beige suit, which matched her beige hair and beige skin.

  “Have you visited Arkansas before?” Tory asked, determined to find something she could talk about to this woman. She sat down on the sofa next to T.L. and was surprised at the strange noises he began to make at her question. He gave a short cough when she gave him an inquiring look.

  “No, Victoria, I have never been here,” Enid returned, straightening her spine with exaggerated care. “I can’t think of any reason I would need to, actually. Once I’ve taken care of this nonsensical trip of Logan’s, I doubt I’ll ever come back.”

  “Dinner.”

  Arnette’s call to dinner cut off the sharp retort Tory was about to deliver. As T.L. made a show of escorting Enid to the dining room, Tory exchanged an understanding look with Arnette. It was possible one of them would kill the woman before her wandering son returned. If she did give into the temptation, Tory was sure Arnette would help her hide the body.

  “What an interesting piano. Do you play, Victoria?” Enid asked as she walked back into the sitting room after dinner the second night of her visit.

  Tory wondered if Enid Herrington had anything in her wardrobe that wasn’t beige. Tonight’s outfit was a jersey dress that did nothing to improve her coloring. Smiling at the thought, she answered graciously, “No, I don’t. Actually, Daddy bought it for the cupids. Isn’t that right, Tyrone?”

  T.L. choked slightly on his brandy and glared at his daughter. “Yes, Victoria, that’s right. No one in the family plays, but I keep it in tune anyway. Arnette told me that Logan’s played it a few times during his visit. You’ve heard him, haven’t you, To—Victoria?”

  “Yes, he played beautifully.” She wasn’t going to say another word until she was asked a question. Every minute in Enid Herrington’s presence reminded her of the reasons she could never have a lasting relationship with Logan. The woman was the ultimate snob. Logan couldn’t forget his years of training, no matter how many southern lessons he passed.

  “How nice that he’s keeping up with it while he’s here,” his mother commented. Tory was amazed to see her give a genuine smile for the first time. “I taught him how to play as a child.”

  “You did?” Tory and T.L. asked in unison.

  “Yes, I did. Before my mother decided that I was going to marry Schuyler, I had aspirations of becoming a concert pianist,” she explained, her eyes beginning to sparkle at the memory. “Of course, in those days women weren’t encouraged to pursue a career. So, I married Schuyler in the biggest wedding that my mother could plan.

  “Victoria, you’re very lucky that you can work at something you love,” Enid commented after taking a sip of Amaretto. “I’d like to see your new shop before I leave, if that’s possible.”

  Tory quickly brought her coffee cup to her lips to keep her mouth from dropping open. Surely Enid Herrington wasn’t giving her a compliment. Had she been too hasty in judging her?

  “Tomorrow might be a good day. Sunday should be slow. It’s hard to tell since we’ve only been open a week,” she found herself saying. “But I don’t have any extra catering scheduled, so we won’t be doing any extra cooking.”

  “Thank you, I find catering fascinating. There’s so many functions that I organize. What’s truly amazing is how creative people can be with food. It must be quite challenging.”

  “Well, if you ladies are going to discuss food, I think—”

  “Now, Daddy, you don’t want our guest to think you’re rude,” Tory said hastily, stopping T.L. as he was halfway out of his chair. She reinforced her words with a fierce look. The woman might be interested in catering, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be left alone with her. “I was hoping we could get Enid to play something for us.”

  “What an excellent idea, just as soon as I refill my glass,” he agreed as if he’d simply been standing up to get more brandy, instead of trying to make a getaway.

  “Oh, I don’t want to impose,” Enid said faintly, already flexing her fingers.

  “If you taught Logan, we’re in for a real treat,” Tory returned with genuine enthusiasm.

  T.L. gallantly opened the cover of the piano and pulled out the piano stool. Enid didn’t seem to need any further encouragement. She took her place, remembering to ask for any requests. When the Planchets demurred, she suggested a little Beethoven. The familiar tune of Fur Elise floated across the room. At the last lingering note, Tory and T.L. broke into applause. Even after such a brief piece of music, Enid’s talent was evident. They encouraged her to play more.

  The next hour sped by as Enid played selections of Bach, Chopin, and Rachmaninoff. As she played her face became flushed, emotion flowing from her fingers. Tory felt as if she was watching a transformation. The colorless woman was changing with each key she touched. Enid seemed to be absorbing the passionate emotion of each composer.

  “Madame, we are your slaves for life,” T.L. announced when Enid couldn’t play another note. He went to her side and executed an elaborate bow.

  To Tory’s surprise, Enid Herrington giggled. The sound was a little rusty, but it was a giggle. The older woman rose to her feet, then dipped into a deep curtsey as T.L. kissed her hand. Rising to her feet once more, she flashed a broad grin of accomplishment. Logan had inherited his mother’s smile as well.

  “I haven’t done that in years,” she exclaimed, brushing back an errant tendril of hair with the back of her hand. “Tyrone, would you happen to have a handkerchief. I seem—”

  “At your service, madam,” he answered and pulled a snowy piece of linen from his pocket. “As my granddaddy used to say, you’re glowing, my dear.”

  Enid dabbed at her forehead and neck. Giving T.L. a level look that held a definite twinkle, she challenged, “Ladies in the South might glow, but at times ladies from New England perspire. I’d forgotten how taxing playing can be.”

  Both T.L. and Tory hesitated for a minute, but couldn’t contain their laughter when Enid raised one eyebrow.

  “You sit down right here, and I’ll get you a restorative,” T.L. instructed.

  “Your father is quite charming, Victoria. I have to admit that I’m enjoying my visit much more than I had anticipated.”

  “I’m glad, Enid. Thank you for playing for us tonight. Would it be too much to hope for another recital before you leave?”

  “I’d love to. Perhaps when Logan returns we can play a Schumann duet that we’ve performed at a number of functions.” Enid continued to smile, making Tory’s heart ache at the resemblance to her son. “I hate to admit it, but he’s really the better player.”

  “I’m not a good judge, but I’d say it’s a draw,” Tory returned, getting to her feet as T.L. returned to the room. “I’ll have to excuse myself now. It’s been a long day, and I’ll have to be back at work again tomorrow. Enid, I’ll probably be able to come by about two o’clock tomorrow and we can go over to the shop after lunch.”

  Once the arrangements were made, Tory escaped. She didn’t walk directly back to the cottage, but headed for the gazebo. There was something about the octagonal structure that helped her think. She’d made a number of important decisions there, sitting and watching the silhouette of the Ozark foothills at night.

  Enid Herrington’s piano playing had her mind in a turmoil. She began to wonder if a lasting relationship with Logan might be possible. Under the right circumstances, both Logan and his mother dropped their Bostonian attitudes. How deep did th
ose attitudes run? Could they just be a facade, a mask to protect them from the outside world?

  Perhaps she was being foolish. She missed Logan more than she had anticipated. The week without him had been endless. How was she going to survive the rest of her life? Cutting him out of her life was much more painful than her broken engagement. But then, she realized a long time ago that she hadn’t really loved Reed. It had only been a youthful infatuation.

  Had she been incredibly stupid to say goodbye to Logan? She had one kernel of hope growing inside her. Logan still might not be willing to take no for an answer. He’d ignored her denials in the past. Would he continue to try and break through her defenses?

  Tory got slowly to her feet, letting out a sigh of disappointment. She’d only found more questions tonight. Even if Logan still wanted her, she didn’t know for how long. She might have recognized her love, but Logan had only talked of passion and need for a brief period of time.

  Patience wasn’t one of her best qualities, but she would just have to wait and see what happened. Logan would be back soon. By the end of next week, she would know whether or not her love was returned.

  Chapter Eleven

  Logan stopped the rental car at the back of the Planchet house. He’d left Texas early that morning, impatient to get back. His sense of anticipation had grown sharper with each mile that brought him closer to Little Rock. The sight of the dark green turrets gave him a sense of homecoming, although he’d only been in Arkansas for a few weeks.

  Glancing at the rooftop of the cottage, he wondered where Tory was at this moment. That lady had quite a bit of explaining to do, he decided, getting out of the car and pulling his duffle bag out of the back seat. His hand automatically went to the letter in his pocket, making him take the back steps two at a time, anxious to find out where he could locate Tory.

  Following the sound of voices, he walked directly to the dining room. He was stunned at the sight that greeted him. For a chilling moment he thought something had happened to Preston, but relaxed as he remembered his phone conversation with Babs last night.

  Tory was the first one to notice him standing in the doorway, but she didn’t say a word. Her dark eyes gleamed with amusement as she looked from him back to the others seated at the table. As usual the Planchets managed to provide the unexpected.

  “Come on, Enid, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with these suspenders,” T.L. protested and hooked his thumbs under them, pulling them out for better inspection. He looked down with pride at the golden American eagles with their inch-wide wingspans. “The boys gave me these beauties for my birthday last year.”

  “T.L., you can’t use beauty in the same sentence with those birds,” Enid returned with disdain, but her smile took any sting out of the words. She turned to the other women for support. “Tory, Arnette, you tell him—Logan.”

  He was amazed at the uncharacteristic sight of his mother blushing. She seemed flustered at the sight of him. Logan couldn’t remember another occasion when his mother hadn’t been in complete control, the model of perfect behavior.

  “Mother, I didn’t know you were coming to visit,” he said stiffly before nodding to the others. T.L. returned his greeting with a smile. While Arnette insisted that he sit down and have something to eat, Tory refused to meet his gaze. She was very interested in the mound of mashed potatoes on her plate. Suddenly he felt like an outsider, awkward and uncomfortable.

  “Come on and sit down, boy. You got here just in time for cholesterol Sunday,” T.L. declared, waving Logan into a chair next to his mother. “I let Arnette have her way the rest of the month, but I demand some old-fashioned southern cooking once a month. No one can top Arnette’s fried chicken and mashed potatoes. And her milk gravy just melts in your mouth.”

  At the mention of milk gravy, Logan looked across the table at Tory. She hadn’t been able to resist either. He tried to read her expression, but the laughter he expected wasn’t there. She gave nothing away. Did she really mean what she’d written? Could she really want to throw away everything that was between them?

  Damn, if she wasn’t the most frustrating woman he’d ever met. She made love like an angel, making him ache for more, but she had this nasty habit of disappearing when he was ready for a serious discussion. He’d had it. Tory Planchet was going to have to listen to him this time.

  “How do you like Arkansas so far, Mother?” His tone was sharper than he intended. Nothing could be accomplished with Tory until they had some time alone, so he might as well deal with his surprise visitor. He was still trying to understand the laughing conversation he’d witnessed.

  “It’s been very pleasant. Did you enjoy Texas?” she answered in the prim voice he’d known all his life.

  “Texas was interesting,” he began, but hesitated at a sound from across the table. He was surprised to find Tory glaring at him.

  What had he done wrong this time? Unfortunately, Arnette returned from the kitchen with his plate, and the moment was lost.

  “Did you see Preston and Babs before you came down?” he continued after thanking Arnette. A polite conversation with his mother might help him get back his feeling of normalcy. “Babs didn’t mention anything about your trip when I talked to her last night.”

  “I didn’t actually mention it to them. Your uncle is doing fine. His new medicine seems to be doing him a world of good,” Enid explained. Logan was fascinated that she was fidgeting with her silverware. That was an infraction that always sent him to his room.

  “I hate to interrupt this warm reunion, but I need to get back to the shop,” Tory announced. She got to her feet abruptly. There was a militant set to her shoulders as she glanced at Logan. “Enid, do you still want to come along to see the shop? I won’t be staying too long since Abby came in today as well.”

  “Yes, I think I will. Logan’s probably tired from his trip.” She almost jumped out of her seat at the invitation. Then for a moment she hesitated. “Is that all right with you, Logan?”

  “Whatever you want to do, Mother,” he returned, still trying to figure out what was going on around him. Why was Tory furious? It was as incomprehensible as his mother’s attack of nerves. Thankfully, Arnette and T.L. were behaving normally, or he’d wonder if he’d entered the Twilight Zone.

  The knock sounded on her front door at nine o’clock. Tory had been bracing herself for Logan’s arrival all evening. She was dreading the confrontation, especially after his disgusting behavior at lunch. His cool treatment of his mother proved that she’d been right. Her wishful thinking had only fostered false hopes.

  Tonight she’d get Logan Herrington out of her life once and for all. She pulled a face as she walked to the door, trying to remember how many times she’d come to that conclusion since their first meeting.

  “Enid!” Logan’s mother was the last person she expected to see when she opened the door.

  “I’m not disturbing you, am I? If it’s not a good time, I can talk to you later.” Her anxious expression told Tory that she couldn’t send her away.

  “Come in.”

  “What a lovely room. Did you decorate it yourself?”

  “Yes, I did, with a little help from an artist friend.” Tory was uncertain about what to do next. The older woman was talking in the same monotone she’d used at lunch with Logan. When in doubt, eat, was Arnette’s motto. “Can I get you something to drink? I was just having a cup of tea.”

  “That would be nice.”

  Tory returned from the kitchen a few minutes later with a tray ladened with a fresh pot of tea, lemon sponge cakes, and macaroons. Although she had an active imagination, she couldn’t fathom why Logan’s mother was there. Enid was standing by the fireplace, looking at the jumble of knickknacks that Tory had spread across the mantle.

  “This fan is beautiful.”

  Tory set the tray down on the coffee table and was glad the silk fan gave her something to say. “Thank you. It’s an heirloom that’s always handed down to the oldest daughter,
or in my case the only one. It was the groom’s gift to an early Planchet bride, a filles de la cassette, New Orleans version of mail-order brides in the seventeen hundreds.”

  “Never make snap judgments,” Enid murmured and sat down on the couch next to Tory. She accepted her cup of tea, but held the cup and saucer in her lap. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, poor judgment. Your family’s been in this country almost as long as the Herringtons and the Macombs, and you aren’t the barefoot hillbillies I imagined. I came to apologize to you.”

  “Apologize to me?” Tory didn’t try to hide her surprise. As far as she was concerned the only one who needed to apologize was Logan. His abrupt treatment of his mother today had been disgraceful.

  “I behaved very badly when I arrived, and your family has treated me with nothing but kindness. I’m never very comfortable with strangers. In fact, they scare me to death. When I get nervous, I always manage to do and say the wrong thing and give the wrong impression,” Enid explained. Her fingers played over the single strand of pearls around her neck. “My grandmother was a true Victorian, and she helped my mother raise me. I was always told never to let anyone ever know what I was thinking or feeling, to pretend to have the emotions of a statue. I raised Logan the same way.”

  “Cake?” Tory held out the plate for lack of anything else to do or say. Why was Enid telling her this?

  Enid took a sip of tea, almost as if it would give her courage to continue her speech. She took a deep breath and raised her chin. “This is probably none of my business, especially since I came here to get him away from what I thought were horrible people. How do you feel about my son?”

  Tory could only stare at the other woman. Was Enid here to ask her intentions toward Logan? This was revenge for the night she’d left Logan in the kitchen with T.L. She did the only thing that made sense, she picked up a lemon sponge cake and took a huge bite out of it.

  “No, don’t answer that last question,” Enid told her. Setting her cup and saucer on the tray, she got up and began pacing the room. “I think you’d be very good for Logan. You’d give him balance. He needs someone to break through his reserve.” She paused for a moment, as if considering her next words, then gave a snort of disgust. “Oh, this would have been so much easier if I was in my dowager war paint. There’s something about jewels and furs that gives one a sense of authority.”