Best Laid Wedding Plans (18 page)

Jasper Nolan, her high school biology teacher, sat in the chair opposite Richard.

He looked up in surprise, then tipped his worn ball cap. “Jenni Beth, nice to—” He hesitated, a wary look coming into his eyes. “Um, it's real nice to see you.”

“Mr. Nolan, y'all are going to want to leave for a few minutes.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

His head swiveling from one to the other, Jasper stood.

“Nonsense.” Richard waved him back into the chair. “Jenni Beth, I'm in the middle of something.”

“You sure as hell are.”

Jasper's eyes went wide. “Jenni Beth? Everything okay?”

Without so much as a glance at him, her eyes fixed on the banker, she answered, “No. It's not. But it will be. Close the door on your way out, please, Mr. Nolan.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Jasper's gaze settled on Richard, then Jenni Beth one more time. Without another word, he left, shutting the door softly behind him.

“Your parents would be very disappointed in your behavior, Jenni Beth Beaumont.”

She squinted as though giving it some thought before she shook her head. “No, I don't think they would be.”

“Have a seat.”

“I don't want to have a seat, you low-down, backstabbing—” She cut herself off. “What are you doing?”

Richard tugged at the knot in his tie. “Watch your mouth, young lady.” He folded his hands on top of his desk. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Is that right? I just came from the appliance store. Seems they need full payment in advance. Someone suggested I might not be good for the money. Any idea who that someone would be?” Moving to his desk, she placed her palms on the shiny surface he was so proud of and leaned toward him.

He rolled his chair back an inch.

Her lips curved. “You're a coward to boot, aren't you?”

“If this is the kind of aggressive, unladylike behavior you've learned in the city, I have to tell you it's not at all becoming.”

She said nothing, simply stared at him.

“It's time for you to leave.” He hit the intercom button. “Gloria, Jenni Beth Beaumont is leaving now. Would you send Walter in to escort her out?”

“You've got to be kidding.” She straightened. “You're going to sic the bank guard on me? Old Walter?”

The guard had to be in his late seventies, and she prayed to God the bank never actually needed security. If Walter ever drew that gun of his, he'd be bound to shoot off his own toes.

“I don't understand,” Gloria fumbled, her voice tinny through the sound system.

“You don't need to understand,” he bellowed. “Send Walter in here.”

“Don't bother, Gloria,” Jenni Beth said. “I was just on my way out.” She rounded on him again, eyes narrowed to slits. “Mr. Richard Too-Arrogant-for-Your-Own-Good Thorndike, you're going to be really, really sorry you messed around with me and mine.”

“Did you hear that, Gloria? Ms. Beaumont threatened me.”

Beyond furious, Jenni Beth said, “No, sir, I did not. I made a promise.”

Head high, she walked to the door and opened it. Turning back to Richard, she added, “And I
always
keep my promises. You can take that to the bank.”

Once outside, she stumbled to her car on legs so rubbery they barely held her. Laying her head on the steering wheel, she felt sick to her stomach again. Talk about losing her temper! But, to be honest, she didn't regret confronting him—and would do it again under the same circumstances. Still, random thoughts ricocheted inside her brain. At the forefront was the realization she could very well have destroyed her chance to make this venture work.

But he'd already given her the loan. He couldn't take it back, could he? And it seemed to her the rat was already doing everything in his power to make things difficult for her. What more could he do?

An adrenaline headache burned behind her eyes.

Time to go home and lick her wounds—after she dropped off a check for Moose.

That done, she headed toward Magnolia House. A quarter mile out of town, still hot under the collar, she stopped at Tomato Annie's roadside vegetable stand. It would give her a little more time to detox, and some fresh tomatoes and cucumbers would be nice tonight at dinner.

“Hey, Annie.”

“Hey yourself, girl. I heard you were in town. Doing some fixin' up at your place, huh?”

“Yes, I am.”

“True you gonna hold weddings at Magnolia House?”

“That's what I'm hoping.”

“Good for you. 'Bout time somethin' new was happenin' in this town.”

Jenni Beth filled a container with her veggies and fished money from her purse.

“You seen Ms. Hattie lately?”

“No. Darlene told me she's having some problems,” Jenni Beth replied.

“Money. All comes down to money. Her windows are all but fallin' out of her house, and she ain't got no money and no family but that nephew up in New York state to help her. Don't think she's honest with him about her situation. I buy some of my produce from her, bein' local grown and all. Pay her a little more because she sure does need it.”

“Thanks, Annie.” Jenni Beth picked up her bag of produce. “I'll see if there's anything I can do for her.”

“That would be real good of you. I don't think she's eatin' right, neither. Since her sister died, I'm not sure she cares. Those two never spent a day apart.”

Jenni Beth recognized the expression that settled on Annie's face. The realization she'd mentioned the loss of a sibling. She'd seen it so many times this past year. “I'm sorry, honey,” Annie said.

“It's okay.”

“You tell your mama and daddy and Ms. Charlotte I said hello. Enjoy those 'maters, now.”

“I will.” Jenni Beth drove away with a heavy heart. Ms. Hattie, in her time, had done for most of the population of the town in one way or the other. When she and her sister Dorothy ran their little country store, Jenni Beth was certain they'd provided lots of credit to families, monies that undoubtedly weren't always repaid.

Two people in one day worrying about her? Definitely time for a visit. She decided to stop by Beck's again and talk to him.

* * *

“Is Beck here, Jeeters?”

“Believe he's back in his office, fiddlin' with that computer.”

“Okay, thanks.” She strolled through the store, noticing things that before last week would have bored her silly. Now she studied hinges and doors, wondering if any of them would work for her renovation. Would Cole have something more authentic at Traditions?

Reaching Beck's office, she knocked.

“It's open,” he barked.

When she peeked around the doorjamb, he stood. “Hey, didn't expect to see you today. You don't look very happy. Problem at the house?”

“No. Nothing at Magnolia House. Everything there is phenomenal.”

“But?”

“I had a fight with Richard.”

“About?”

She explained briefly her chat with Moose, her spat with the banker.

“Jenni Beth, you need to be careful around him.”

“I know.”

“I'm not sure you do.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly that. Keep your wits about you when you deal with him.”

She twisted the chain at her neck nervously. “That's not the reason I stopped to see you, though.”

“Oh?”

“Ms. Hattie apparently needs new windows. I'll take a ride out there, see for myself, but both Darlene and Tomato Annie mentioned that she's got some real problems. It doesn't seem any of her people are stepping up to help her.”

Beck dropped into his chair and motioned for her to sit across from him. “What are you thinkin'?”

“First of all, let me say that I know without your help and Cole's, I wouldn't have a prayer of fixing up Magnolia House or getting my business started. Maybe, even with your help, I'll sink.”

Beck shook his head. “Not gonna happen.”

“That's what I'm thinking.” She grinned. “I'm also thinking a little pay-it-forward is needed.”

He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand. “Wait. Hear me out. I mentally reworked my budget between Annie's and here. If I faux paint the ballroom for now instead of putting up wallpaper, skimped a little bit a few other places, I might be able to swing windows for her.”

“Why would you do that?”

“How can I not?”

“Windows are expensive, Jenni Beth.”

“I know. But—” She bit her lip. “Could you measure them for me? Price them out? Then, well, we'll see.”

He rubbed his jaw. Said nothing.

“Come on, Beck. Work with me.”

He sighed. “Okay, call me crazy. I can get out there tomorrow. Give me a couple days to work it up, though.”

“Thanks.” She leaned across the desk and kissed his cheek.

“This is what you two call workin'?”

Startled, Jenni Beth swiveled quickly, heard Beck chuckle. She faced a raised-brow Cole.

Oh boy. Her temperature shot sky-high, and her tongue darted out to lick her lips. The man was gorgeous—and he had to know it. Crisp white shirt tucked into snug, well-worn jeans, the sleeves rolled up to show off tanned arms, hair slightly mussed as if he'd been running his fingers through it. The man looked good enough to eat.

“You hungry?” he asked.

Her hand flew to her mouth. Had she said that out loud? No. She peeked at the wall clock. One o'clock. Lunch time. A reasonable assumption.

“Hey, anybody home?” Cole waved a nicked and scarred hand in front of her face. “You want to have lunch? I'm flat-out starvin', and we should talk about a couple things.” He held up a file. “Figured we might as well make good use of our time. Eat and talk.”

“Oh, sure. Business.”
Pop
. Her pretty little balloon deflated.

“If it makes it easier to say yes, then, yeah, you could call it a business lunch.” He looked at Beck. “Want to join us?”

His friend glanced from one to the other. “Nah. Think you two will do fine without me playin' third thumb.”

“It's not like that,” she said quickly.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Still, think I'll stay right here.”

“You'll follow up on those windows?”

“Yep.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I do. Get her out of here, Cole, before she comes up with somethin' else for me to do.”

“I'm on that.” Hand at her back, Cole opened the door and herded her through the store and out into the heat.

“Why are you in Misty Bottoms?”

“Had a delivery for Dinky. I had some tile a customer of his needed, and shippin' it would have cost a fortune.”

“Oh.”

On the other side of the road, a train clattered past, whistle blowing. The land stretched out in front of her, and for one second she felt torn between her two worlds. Longed for the air-conditioned coolness of Chateau Rouge, wished she could step into a Starbucks and grab an iced coffee.

Cole took her hand, and she forgot Savannah existed.

“Didn't mean to eavesdrop,” he said, “but—”

“What did you hear?”

He drew back at the intensity of her reply, and she'd gladly have bitten the end off her tongue if she could take it back.

“I heard you talkin' about Ms. Hattie,” he said slowly. “Something else goin' on I should know about?”

“No.”

Reaching for her hand, he turned her to face him. “That answer was way too fast, sugar. Let's have it. If you told Beck, you can tell me.”

She huffed out her breath.

“I'm gonna find out sooner or later,” he coaxed. “Let's make it sooner. What's got you in a tizzy?”

She stared at the railroad tracks. He waited. She studied a fingernail she'd broken that morning. Still, he waited.

“C'mon. Out with it.”

“Won't you just go away?” she pleaded.

“Not a chance.”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Keeping it short and not-so-sweet, right there in the middle of Beck's dusty parking lot, she relayed her run-in with Richard. “He's an ass.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“Is this why you told me to watch out for him?”

He blinked, and she knew she wouldn't get the whole answer.

“Just so you know, Cole, I can read your tell.”

“What are you talkin' about?”

“When you're being evasive or getting ready to skirt an issue, you blink. You blinked when I asked about Richard.”

“Blinking is an involuntary response, sugar. Didn't Ms. Turner teach that to you girls in health class?”

She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “And you blinked again.”

“Oh, for the love of Mike. You know what? You ask me, you're the expert at evasion. You've turned this whole conversation in on me when you're the one with the tale to tell.”

“I already told it.”

“Fine. Maybe I should pay Thorndike anoth—a little visit.”

“No.” She placed her hand on his arm, felt the coiled tension. “Absolutely not.” She shook her finger at him. “And that's exactly the reaction I expected. The reason I didn't want to tell you.”

“Okay, then.” He continued toward his truck. “How about we stop at the store and pick up some lunch? Maybe get an extra sandwich. We'll give Ms. Hattie a call to let her know we're comin' out to visit.”

He'd given in way too easy, and it made her exceedingly nervous.

Uneasy, she asked, “You'll go with me?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why are you being so nice, Cole?”

His eyes darkened. “I've always been nice.”

She snorted.

He shook his head sadly. “I'm so misjudged. Seriously, I like Ms. Hattie. She and her sister were always good to me. We can share lunch and let her know Beck will be comin' out.”

She stopped walking. “What if I raise her hopes but can't make the budget work?”

“Between the three of us, you, me, and Beck, we can do some finagling. Some trading maybe.”

“I won't take money from you, Cole. I draw the line at that. You, yourself, said right at the start of this that you were willing to offer…” She squinted, trying to remember his exact words. “I believe it was gallons of sweat equity and you'd toss your vast knowledge at my feet. But no money. You were crystal clear about that.”

His jaw tightened. “And that still goes. What we're talkin' about here is a totally different kettle of fish. First of all, Ms. Beaumont, it's not you I'm helpin'. This is Ms. Hattie's house needs fixin', not yours. Second? I'm a big boy, and it seems to me this is my choice, not yours.”

“Fine.” Her brows drew together fiercely, and her jaw set in a tight line.

“Whew!” He drew back. “If that's the look you wear when everything's fine, I'd sure hate to be on the receivin' end when it wasn't. But then I have been, haven't I?” He grimaced and tugged on her hand. “C'mon. Let's take my truck. I'm not sure what condition Ms. Hattie's road is in. That fancy sports car of yours might scrape bottom.”

He opened the door and helped her in, an old-fashioned gesture she realized she enjoyed.

They drove to Bi-Lo, the town's only grocery store. “We can hit the deli,” he said. “Martha makes a mean Italian sub.”

“I know.” She grinned. “I had one last week. And the store's air-conditioned.” Exchanging conspiratorial grins, they glanced both ways before they hurried through the parking lot and into the store.

In far too short a time, they stepped back into the heat, lunch in hand. Since they weren't quite sure what Ms. Hattie liked, they'd bought a couple extra sandwiches, some fruit, and a side of mac and cheese. No self-respecting Southerner would turn down mac and cheese.

“We have to be careful not to offend her,” Jenni Beth said.

“I know that. I'm not a total country bumpkin.”

“I never said you were.”

“You implied it.” One arm tossed carelessly over the steering wheel, he drove easily. “My mama taught me manners, thank you very much.”

She stared out the side window. “Excuse me for insulting your finer sensibilities.”

“See?” His hand slapped the steering wheel. “There you go. You yak about
me
not having good manners. I've got a news flash for you, Ms. Beaumont. That sarcastic tongue of yours can cut a fellow off at the knees.”

She blushed, instantly contrite. “You're right. I'm sorry. I don't know why, when I'm around you, I'm so—” She waved a hand in the air, searching for the right word.

“Bitchy, Jenni Beth. The word is bitchy.”

She gasped. “That's not nice.”

“No, don't suppose it is.”

“What would your mama think about that?”

“Me callin' you bitchy?”

She nodded.

“Why? You gonna tattle on me?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and said nothing.

They rode in silence the rest of the way.

When Ms. Hattie's one-story house came into view, Cole leaned slightly toward Jenni Beth. “Before we pay this fine lady a visit, it'd probably be a good idea for you and me to kiss and make up.”

He shot a sideways glance toward her.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Cole.”

“C'mon.” He tapped a finger on his cheek. “Right here. We'll both feel a whole lot better.”

She surprised them both by laughing. “You're impossible.” But she leaned across the console and gave him a kiss. One meant for the cheek, till he turned into it, met her lips with his own quick one.

With a laugh, Cole pulled the large Ford pickup into the overgrown dirt drive.

His laugh died, though, as did hers when they took in the small house's condition. The metal roof was brown with rust, the porch stairs listed to one side, and part of the stair railing was missing. Loose, ancient green Astroturf carpeted the top stair and formed a path to the front door. Both Annie and Darlene had been right. Ms. Hattie needed help. Badly.

And the windows. Oh! The bottom half of one had been covered with plywood. Another had several cracked panels. One had been propped open with a mason jar. All of them looked ready to tumble out of their frames.

“Why hasn't someone from town stepped up to help?” Jenni Beth whispered. “It used to be neighbors helped neighbors.”

“It used to be,” Cole said, “neighbors had jobs. Had the money to help. A lot of people in Misty Bottoms can't take care of themselves anymore, let alone dip into their funds for someone else.”

Unbuckling his seat belt, he turned to face her. “You sure you want to try to make a go of a new business here?”

“No, I don't want to try. I intend to do it.”

“Damn stubborn fool,” he muttered.

No matter that he was upset with her. Good manners had him jogging to her side of the truck, opening the door, and helping her out, lingering a little with her hand in his. When she pulled it free, he reached into the back and grabbed the grocery bags, more glad than ever that Jenni Beth had suggested they add a few extras.

What they'd brought today would feed Hattie the better part of the week.

The inside door stood open, so Jenni Beth knocked on the screen door. “Ms. Hattie? It's Jenni Beth Beaumont and Cole Bryson. You home?”

“Who?”

The voice sounded older, shakier than Cole remembered. Regret hit, and though he tried to push it away, it refused to budge.

Jenni Beth repeated herself.

“Hold on to your horses. I'll be right there.”

The woman who came to the door shocked Cole. Stooped and frail, she barely resembled the spry, smiling woman who'd always had a kind word and a cookie for Beck, Wes, and him as kids. He'd spent a lot of time hanging around her and Dorothy's little store.

His throat clogged, and he didn't have a clue what to say, to do. A quick glance at Jenni Beth showed she battled, too. Her face had gone pale and her smile faltered.

What did he say? “Heard you've been down on your luck lately so we're gonna step in and help”? Wouldn't work. Ms. Hattie might have withered physically, but he'd bet his life's savings her pride hadn't gone anywhere.

“Well, I declare,” Ms. Hattie said. “See you finally nabbed this fine-lookin' boy, Jenni Beth. Good for you.”

Cole choked on the laugh, managed to swallow it. Jenni Beth rounded on him, nonetheless. The sadness vanished from her eyes, replaced by a look that promised to send him into the fires of hell if he let go with a single chuckle.

“Actually, Ms. Hattie, Cole's been helping me at Magnolia House. He's working for me.” She managed to combine smug with scathing. Again promised retribution if he dared deny her claim.

“That so? Heard you'd torn into the place. Fixin' it up so's you can hold weddings there.”

“That's right. We've been working hard and decided we deserved an afternoon off.” She pointed at the bags Cole held. “It's such a beautiful day, we thought a picnic would be nice. But we bought way too much. Since we were out this way, we thought we'd stop in and share. If you haven't already had lunch.”

Hattie's ancient eyes studied Jenni Beth's face, then turned on Cole. He fidgeted beneath the stare. Damn, she was good.

“She ain't tellin' the truth, is she, boy? Somethin' else goin' on.”

He tugged at the top button of his shirt. “We wanted to talk to you about somethin', and that's the honest truth.”

“Just about to fry up some Spam. Want some?”

“Why don't you save that for later?” He lifted the bags. “We've got plenty here.”

“Guess that'll do. Want to eat inside or out back?”

Cole rubbed his chin. “You got a table back there?”

“Sure do.”

“Let's do outside.”

Cole offered his arm, and she led them slowly around the side of the house, picking her way around overgrown roses and broken stepping-stones. While he settled her into a chair, Jenni Beth set the table with the paper plates and plastic silverware they'd picked up.

Several chickens pecked and clucked around the yard. A rooster ran toward them, and Hattie flapped her apron at it. “Shoo! Go cause trouble elsewhere, Henry, or I swear I'll get that pot boilin' and toss you in, you old coot.”

She turned to Cole. “Keep the hens for the eggs, but that old rooster's the meanest thing on two legs.”

Cole winked at her. “Ms. Hattie, you must have as hard a time chasin' the beaus away as you do that old rooster. I swear, if I was here in town more often…”

She swatted him. “Get out of here, you young fool. You got a girl like Jenni Beth here, and you want me to believe you'd waste your time on me? Always thought your mama's son was smarter than that.”