Georgina’s invitation played around the fringes of his mind as he struggled to concentrate on the words filling the computer screen. Massaging his forehead with fingertips, Langston knew reviewing the article with an open mind was futile and decided to quit for the day. It was after five and everyone had gone home.
Although she had insisted he not bring anything, Langston still did not feel comfortable showing up empty-handed. He had several days in which to come up with something generic that would demonstrate his appreciation for her invitation.
* * *
It was Sunday, and after attending the early service, Georgina returned home to prepare dinner for her first and very special guest. And that was how she’d begun to think of Langston. He was special. She’d debated whether to make lamb or pork chops, and finally decided on the latter, because Langston had broiled lamb chops for her when he’d invited her to his home. But then again, she’d promised to make smothered pork chops for him.
She’d cooked for Sean, but this was different. They’d slept together, while she did not plan to sleep with Langston because it would ruin their budding friendship. She found it so easy to talk with Langston, while there were occasions when she had to struggle to make Sean open up to her. He would ask to see her, and she would drive to Beckley only to sit in his apartment waiting for him to open his mouth to say something. She’d give him fifteen minutes, then she would get into her car to reverse the trip. It would be several days before he’d call her again, and that was when she’d warn him she did not intend to drive to see him only to encounter a mute. And little did she know that he was struggling with the dilemma of how to repay his gambling debts. Although devastated when he’d asked her for money, Georgina realized Sean had done her a favor because if she’d married him or even had a child with him, her future would have been filled with not only heartache but also stress from Sean’s financial irresponsibility.
Georgina had planned her menu to include a spinach salad, sautéed red cabbage with slivers of apple, a sweet potato casserole and mini apple crisps to accompany the smothered pork chops. She’d also purchased a bouquet of flowers from the local florist and votives from Powell’s as a centerpiece for the table. After dusting and vacuuming and cleaning the bathroom, she felt the house was presentable for her first guest.
Georgina had settled into the guesthouse and within minutes of closing the door she believed that she’d finally come home. She felt free, freer than she ever had in her life, and chided herself for not moving out of her parents’ home much sooner.
She rose at the same time each morning, lingered long enough to eat breakfast and then drove to the downtown business district to meet her father at the store. She had also continued the ritual of cooking various dishes on Sunday to last her for several days, with leftovers for lunch. It had taken Georgina less than a week to find people coming to her home to clean and vacuum when she wasn’t there invasive, and informed Viviana that she wasn’t going to avail herself of the housekeeping services. The owner of the B and B delivered a supply of towels and bed linens when Georgina informed her she would do her own laundry. Once she opened the door, walked in and closed it behind her, she didn’t want to see evidence that someone else had been there before her.
She realized a bed-and-breakfast and hotels were run on the same model, but she wasn’t spending a few days in a hotel or motel; the guesthouse had become her home—a place that had become her safe haven where she could unwind at the end of the day without interruptions or interacting with anyone.
If she’d changed, so had her mother. Evelyn had shocked her when she came into the store one afternoon and asked if she would show her the software program she had set up to keep track of the inventory. One day became two, and after a week the murmurings about seeing Evelyn in Powell’s ceased altogether. When she’d asked her parents what they were doing Sunday, Bruce informed her he wanted to surprise Evelyn by driving up to Charleston after closing the store, checking in to their favorite hotel overnight and ordering room service. He appeared slightly embarrassed when he confessed that he felt as if they were newlyweds, rediscovering a passion that had been missing for far too long.
Georgina tried imagining what it would feel like to marry and even after thirty-plus years of marriage still enjoy making love with her husband. She’d convinced herself she didn’t have time for a romantic liaison when it was exactly what she needed, if only to allow her to trust a man enough to believe he did not have an ulterior motive for wanting to be with her.
She opened the refrigerator and removed a bag of freshly washed spinach, a carton of mushrooms, red onion and several strips of bacon. Once she boiled an egg and let it cool, then she’d slice it for the salad along with crisp bacon.
Georgina turned on the radio on the kitchen countertop and selected a station that featured upbeat dance tunes. She’d only shared one dance with Langston, albeit a slow one. Sean had loved to dance, and he would take her to different clubs where she’d spent so many hours on the dance floor that she’d occasionally arrive home holding instead of wearing her shoes.
She lit several scented candles to offset the cooking aromas as she chopped, minced and sautéed the ingredients for dinner, stopping to shower again and change into a hot-pink sleeveless sheath dress, ending at her knee. She’d just slipped her bare feet into a pair of espadrilles with matching pink ties when the doorbell rang. Not bothering to take a last glance at her reflection in the Cheval mirror, Georgina walked out of the bedroom and to the front door.
Peering through the security eye, she saw Langston staring back at her. She opened the door and sucked in a breath at the same time her heart pumped wildly in her chest. He wore a royal blue tailored suit with a white shirt and silk tie that was the perfect match for her dress.
Her delight in seeing him again was reflected in her eyes and smile. “Welcome.”
Langston extended the hand behind his back, handing her a cellophane-wrapped jade plant in a white glazed pot with black Asian lettering. “This is a little housewarming gift.”
Chapter Eight
Langston knew Georgina wasn’t expecting him to bring anything, but the smile softening her delicate features grew wider when she stared at the plant. “Oh, it’s beautiful! Thank you so much, Langston.”
“You’re welcome. And may I come in?”
Georgina stepped aside. “Yes. Do please come in.”
He walked into the house and glanced over Georgina’s head to examine her new home. It was as charming as the woman occupying it. The ubiquitous hotel/motel vibe was missing, and in its place was a space designed for family living. A bundle of dried herbs lay on the grate in a faux fireplace and the scent of lemon from several jars of lighted candles wafted in the air. A table in the living/dining area was set for two. His gaze lingered on a vase of deep rose-pink roses and tulips.
“Lovely,” he whispered. Langston shifted his gaze from the table to Georgina. “Lovely,” he repeated, staring directly at her. And that she was. She had blown out her hair and pinned it up in what he recognized as a messy bun. She lowered her eyes in a demure gesture that never failed to turn him on. Everything about her was a visual feast.
“Even though I told you not to bring anything, I love the plant. Thank you so much.”
“You’re not going to hold it against me?” he asked.
“Of course not. I was thinking about buying a few potted plants to liven up the place. Now I’m forced to so this little guy can have some friends. What does the lettering say?”
“Love, peace and eternal happiness.”
“So you also read Chinese?”
Langston laughed. “No. There was a note card attached, translating the words. This place is very nice. How many rooms do you have here?”
“Two bedrooms, galley kitchen a full bath, living/dining area and there’s a king-size bed in the loft with a wall-mounted television.”
&n
bsp; Langston walked over to the window. “I’ve driven past the Falls House countless times and never knew these guesthouses were here.” They overlooked a grassy pasture with a copse of trees and wildflowers growing in abandon.
Georgina removed the cellophane from the plant and set it on a side table. “Neither did I. Remember, the Remington kids didn’t go to the public school with the rest of us, and I doubt if they had sleepovers like the rest of us.”
Langston was aware that Viviana graduated from a private boarding school, while her brother Leland transferred to the high school where he hadn’t made many friends. “Are your parents going to join us?”
“No. My folks are going up to Charleston later this evening to eat at their favorite restaurant.” She didn’t want to tell him that her parents had planned to check into a hotel for the night.
Langston smiled. “That’s nice.”
Georgina also smiled. “I agree. They’ve been acting like lovebirds since coming back from Hawaii.”
“Good for them, Georgi. Just because couples have been married for a long time doesn’t mean the passion gets old. My folks act like teenagers when they decide to make out in front of me and my sister.”
“Aren’t they embarrassed for you to see them like that?”
“Heck, no. The one time I said something to Dad, he told me in no uncertain terms that it was his house and therefore he could do anything he wanted. And when I get my own place, then, as king of my castle, I could do whatever I want. Of course, my mother differed with him because she said she didn’t want her son to have a revolving door of women coming and going, because what I did in the dark was certain to come out in the light. And she said that before social media blew up.”
Georgina nodded. “Your mother is right. You can have one mishap in college, and it can follow you for life.”
“I’m no monk, but I’ve tried to be selective when it comes to who I’ve been involved with.”
“You know there’s talk about us being photographed together at the Chamber dinner-dance.”
Langston’s expression did not change with her mention of them possibly being linked as a couple. Jonas had mentioned it, and so had a few people he’d run into when at the supermarket. He’d been noncommittal about their so-called relationship when they’d asked if he and Georgina were dating, while he’d wanted it to become a reality.
“I know,” he said truthfully. “Does that bother you?”
“No,” Georgina said quickly. “I learned a long time ago not to be swayed by what folks say, because they’re going to believe whatever they want regardless of how you try and convince them it’s not that way.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave her a lengthy stare. “Are you saying you don’t mind us being seen together in public?”
She laughed softly. “We were already seen together in public.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know exactly what you mean, Langston. You’re asking if I would be willing to date you.”
He blinked slowly. “Yes.”
“Yes, but only when I have some free time.”
His smile was one of supreme confidence and victory. Getting Georgina to agree to go out with him was easier than he’d anticipated. Langston did not know why but he’d expected her to turn him down.
“I promise not to get into a huff when you say you can’t see me.”
“Thank you, because I don’t do well with bad attitudes.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly. “I’ll try and remember that.”
“You can lose the jacket and tie, because dinner is going to be casual and relaxing,” Georgina said.
Langston wanted to tell her that flowers and candles were a step above casual, but decided not to say anything. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“You can open the wine and allow it to breathe. I’ve made the salad and dressing, cooked the cabbage, and the sweet potato casserole is in the oven along with apple crisps. I’ve seasoned and stuffed the chops, and I wanted to wait until you got here to cook them.”
He shrugged off his jacket, leaving it on a chair, loosened his tie and rolled back the cuffs on his shirt. “Do you mind if I watch you make the chops and gravy?”
“Of course not. I’m going to get you an apron, so you won’t get food on your shirt.”
* * *
Langston pressed his hands to his belly. He realized he’d eaten too much, but he couldn’t stop himself when he had second helpings of the sweet and sour cabbage, sweet potato casserole with a topping of finely crushed sugared pecans and the fork-tender double-cut stuffed pork chops with an onion and pepper gravy that literally melted on his tongue.
“If I eat like this every day I’d end up gaining at least fifty pounds,” he said, smiling across the table at Georgina. Where did you learn to cook like this?”
She smiled. “My grandmama taught me.”
Langston raised his glass of rosé. “Here’s to grandmothers all over the world who taught their grandbaby girls how to cook.”
“Grandma Dot was old school and she told me no young woman should marry unless she knew how to cook because she didn’t much believe in eating in restaurants, or husbands being able to cook.”
Langston partially agreed with Georgina’s grandmother. “Restaurants are necessary at times, but I personally would rather a home-cooked meal anytime to eating out. Is your mother a good cook?”
“The only thing I’m going to say is that she’s better than my aunt Michelle. My grandmother gave up on them when they claimed they didn’t want to be chained to a stove, which meant I was her next pupil. I loved going to my grandmother’s house because whatever she made was delicious. And she was in seventh heaven whenever I asked her to teach me how to cook something I really liked. She’d sit me on a stool near the table or stove and patiently show me step by step how make perfect fried chicken or ribs.”
A slight frown furrowed Langston’s forehead. “She fried ribs?”
“Yes. She’d cut up ribs, wash and season them with kosher salt and lots of black and white pepper. Then she would put flour in a paper or plastic bag and coat them well. And like with chicken, she’d shake off the excess flour and fry them in oil until they’re brown all over. They would take only about two to three minutes to cook. I varied the cooking method with spraying them with canola oil and oven-fry them. They come out just as crispy but with less oil.”
“Wow! One of these days I want you to come over so I can watch you make them.”
Nodding, Georgina smiled. “Okay.”
“I’ll buy the ribs from the butcher at the supermarket and have him chop them into bite-size pieces.”
“What else do you plan to serve with the ribs?” she asked.
Langston searched his memory for what he’d eaten when visiting his grandmother in South Carolina. “Potato salad and cole slaw.”
Georgina’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re going to make potato salad?”
Langston winked at her. “You’re not the only one with a grandma who could burn some pots. She did teach her grandbaby boy and girl how to cook.”
Propping her elbow on the table, Georgina rested her chin on the palm of her hand. “And she taught you well, because you are quite good.”
He inclined his head. “Thank you. But what I’m looking forward to is us cooking together so I can pick up some pointers from you for our next encounter.”
“Are you talking about a cook-off?”
Langston winked at her again. “So I see you catch my drift,” he drawled.
“Do you have any idea what you are proposing?” Georgina asked as she lowered her arm. “You have to know that Dorothea Reed won first prize for her dishes whenever she competed in the Fourth of July cook-off. Folks would always ask for her recipes, but rather than say anything she’d pretend she didn't hear them. O
nly her granddaughter is her recipe secret keeper.”
“So it’s like that, princess?”
“Yes, sweet prince. It’s like that. There’s a hard and fast rule that only someone related to a Powell can become management at the department store. It’s the same with family recipes that have been passed down from one generation to the next. So,” she said, pantomiming zipping her lips, “no can do.”
Langston switched chairs, sitting next to Georgina, and took her hand, cradling it gently in his larger one before bringing it to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. “What if we were married? Would I still be exempt?”
* * *
Georgina froze. Nothing moved. Not even her eyes. It was the second time Langston referred to her marrying him. She searched his face for a hint of guile but found it impossible to read his impassive expression.
“No, you wouldn’t be exempt even though that’s not going to happen.”
“What isn’t?”
“Marriage. Several years ago I dated someone, believing I was in love with him and if he had proposed marriage I would have jumped at the opportunity to become his wife. But when I discovered he was hiding something from me I realized I had to walk away.”
Langston tightened his hold on her hand. “Everyone has secrets.”
She closed her eyes for several seconds. “I know that, Langston. But his secret was one that wouldn’t allow me to ever trust him. And for me, trust is more important than love.”
“You are preaching to the choir, babe.”
A small smile trembled over her lips. “The difference between you and me is that everyone in the Falls knew about your breakup because you’d married a celebrity, while few folks in the Falls were aware that I was seeing someone.”
“Was that by design?”
“Not really. He lived in Beckley and most times I’d drive down to see him.”
Starting Over In Wickham Falls (Wickham Falls Weddings Book 9) Page 11