Heartstrings and Diamond Rings (16 page)

He didn’t even want to say it. The moment he took her money, he was obligated to help, even if he was in over his head.
Way
over.

“I charge fifteen hundred dollars for five introductions.”

He actually hoped maybe that would scare her away and he wouldn’t have to deal with this. Instead she made a scoffing noise and said, “That’s all? Hell, the way my love life is going, I’d pay fifteen hundred bucks for
one
introduction.”

No. Don’t tell me that. I’m not worth it!

“So,” she said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “What do you think, Mr. Matchmaker? Is there hope?”

Brandon opened his mouth to say something, only to close it again. Hope? Hell, there was always hope. But considering that he wasn’t really a matchmaker, what were the odds that he’d be able to pull this off?

“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. “You’re not answering me. It’s times like these I really hate not being able to see people’s faces.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was just…I was just mentally going through my files. I’m sure there’s somebody in there who’ll be perfect for you.”

The moment the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to yank them back. He had no idea if he’d be able to make a match for this woman. None at all.

“You’re a little uptight about this, aren’t you?” Delilah said.

His heart skipped. “No. Of course not.”

“Don’t worry, Brandon. I’m a realist. I know I’m a tough sell. If this works out, okay. If not, that’s okay, too.” She stood up and gave him a cheery smile. “So…if you happen to come across a guy who doesn’t mind dating a poor blind girl, let me know, okay?”

She grabbed her cane and started down the stairs, only to turn back. She paused for a long time, and he noticed her hand tightening on the porch railing.

“When you were on the radio,” she said, her voice softer now, “you said that you think there’s somebody out there for everybody. Do you really believe that?”

Brandon closed his eyes.
Please don’t ask me that.
“Of course I do.”

She seemed to think about that for a moment, and then she gave him a smile.

“I just decided I’m going to take your word for that. After all, you’re the professional, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, even as he thought
fraud, fraud, fraud
. “I’m the professional.”

She turned and continued down the stairs. Brandon watched as she walked back to her house, trying to imagine what it must have been like for her to have her life change so profoundly from one second to the next. He admired the hell out of her just for having the guts to get up and get on with her life.

And here she was putting her trust in him.

He didn’t like people depending on him. That implied a sense of responsibility he’d never believed himself to have, and now he had to take it whether he wanted it or not.

He imagined leaving Plano in a few months and handing her money back to her.
Sorry, sweetheart. Guess Mr. Right isn’t going to be so easy to find after all. Good luck with the rest of your life.

He’d lied to her before. He had no idea if there was somebody out there for everybody. Surely there had to be some people in this world who were destined to go through it alone. And he’d always believed he was one of them.

He sincerely hoped Delilah wasn’t.

The next afternoon, Alison and Heather were once again sitting around the table with the other members of the board of the Preservation League. It was their second meeting that month, with more to come. It was always like that in the weeks leading up to the home tour. So many details, so little time. There were the sponsors to think about. Volunteers. The program. Press releases. Raffle baskets. Ticket sales. Tour guides. More meetings. More details. More things she had to remember.

More Judith.

Bea hadn’t even arrived to kick off the meeting yet, and already Judith was arguing with Karen about the hors d’oeuvres Maggie’s Café was donating. Thirty seconds into the conversation, Alison wanted to toss her Sharpie aside and send a letter opener straight through her own skull.

“Those mini quiches were dry as a bone last year,” Judith said. “The egg was like rubber. I could barely eat one. You need to tell them that. No mini quiches unless they can keep them moist.”

“You want me to actually
say
that to them?” Karen said.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a
donation
, Judith,” Heather said. “You don’t solicit a donation and then bitch about the details.”

“It’s more than just details. It’s a health hazard.”

“Health hazard?”

“Somebody could choke on it.”

Then by all means, Judith, eat up.

Just then Bea came through the door and tossed her notebook down on the conference room table. “Bad news, boys and girls. I just got off the phone with Mrs. Strayhorn. She’s backing out of the tour.”

Alison’s heart seized up. “What? No. She can’t back out. The tour is less than two months away!”

“She says she’s afraid people will steal things.”

“But I told her that wouldn’t happen,” Alison said. “I told her we’d have plenty of people staffing her house.”

“She’s not so sure
they
won’t steal from her.”

“I’ll talk to her again,” Alison said. “Try to change her mind.”

“Nope. What if she backs out again only a few days before the tour and leaves us with no chance of getting another house?”

Good point.

“I wonder why Mrs. Strayhorn called you instead of me?” Alison said.

“She said you were such a nice girl that she didn’t want to tell you she’d changed her mind.” Bea paused, raising an eyebrow. “Gee, I wonder what that says about me?”

“What about the stuff about the Strayhorn house up on the website?” Karen said.

“And the programs are getting ready to go to press,” Judith said.

“Don’t worry about the website so much,” Bea said. “But we do have to stop the programs. If those have to be reprinted, it’ll break the bank.”

Judith turned to Alison. “So what are you going to do now?”

“I’m not sure,” Alison said. “But I’ll get another house. I just don’t know where.”

“There’s that house on State Street,” Karen said. “On the corner of 16th. Painted beige and burgundy. Two-story Victorian with a wraparound porch—”

“I tried that one. It’s vacant now. The old man who lived there died, and the house is tied up in his estate.” She turned to Bea. “Are there any women in your book group who might have a house that’ll work? Or know somebody who might?”

“I’ve hit them up in the past. But I’ll hit again.”

This was a disaster. Finding four people with the right homes who didn’t mind opening them up to hundreds of people traipsing through them was a staggering feat every year. If they left it at three homes, they’d feel obligated to drop the admission charge, which would really cut into their profits.

And then it dawned on her. She did know of another house. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She turned the thought over in her mind. Yes…
yes
. It would be perfect.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “I know just the house.”

Bea perked up. “You do?”

“It’s a pretty little prairie-style bungalow. Nearly original. It’s on a beautiful block. The house is in good condition, and a lot of the furniture is vintage.”

“Sounds perfect,” Karen said. “Where is it?”

“I’ll tell you all about it once it’s in the bag.”

“Hold on,” Judge Jimmy said. “Before we get all excited here, are you sure you can get this house?”

“I’ll get it,” Alison said. “One way or another.”

Half an hour later, the meeting broke up. Bea, Heather, and Alison went up the stairs together.

“Uh…there’s a small problem with the house that I didn’t bother to mention to the whole board,” Alison said.

“Problem?” Bea said.

“It’s going to need a little work to get it up to par for the tour. The owner just inherited the property, so he hasn’t had a chance to do much to it. Since I’ll be asking him to use it on short notice, I thought it’d be a sign of goodwill if we offered to help.”

“Uh…Alison?” Heather said. “Whose house are we talking about?”

Yoga breath.
“Brandon Scott’s.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“What are you girls talking about?” Bea asked.

“Nothing,” Alison said, and Heather rolled her eyes. “It’s the perfect house. It just needs a little work.”

“How much work are we talking about?” Bea asked.

“Mostly spring cleaning kind of stuff. Minor repairs. Maybe a little painting. Can you guys help?”

“I painted my whole house by myself once,” Bea said. “Just give me a roller.”

“And I’ll ask my father to help, too,” Alison said, then turned to Heather. “Can you and Tony help?”

“Yeah, sure,” Heather said in a deadpan tone. “Sign us up.”

They reached Bea’s car. “Just let me know when we’re getting together for a work day.”

“Will do,” Alison said.

As Bea drove away, Heather turned to Alison, her fist on her hip. “Brandon’s house? Really?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be there the whole time to protect me from his evil ways.”

Heather twisted her mouth with irritation.

“Look. If we don’t get another house, and fast, we’re screwed.”

Finally Heather sighed. “Well, I guess we are under the gun. Do you think he’ll agree to let us use it?”

“I guess we won’t know until I ask, will we?”

A
s Brandon listened to Alison’s proposal, he decided he needed to stop answering his door if she was on the other side. Every time he let her in, she told him things he didn’t want to hear.

“So you want me to open up my house to a bunch of strangers?” he said.

She smiled. “More or less.”

“Hell, no.”

She drew back. “What do you mean,
hell no
? You haven’t even thought about it.”

“I don’t need to think about it. Strangers traipsing through my house? No, thanks.”

“Just pretend you’re selling it, and they’re prospective buyers. You used to do that all the time, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t live in those houses.”

“It’s not that big a deal. One day. That’s it.”

“I thought tour homes were supposed to be all pretty and perfect. Mine isn’t.”

“It could be. I know it’s a little rough around the edges, but the architecture is wonderful, and a lot of the furniture is from the same period. I have a few people who have volunteered to do whatever we need to do to make it presentable.”

“Let me get this straight,” Brandon said. “Not only will I have people wandering through here for hours on tour day, I’ll also have a bunch of people in my house banging around getting it ready?”

“But think what that’s worth. Cleaning, minor repairs, maybe a little painting—what would you have to pay for that?”

Brandon didn’t really care about the condition of the house. Let the First Baptist Church worry about that when he left town and it took possession.

“There’s too much work that needs to be done,” he told her. “It’ll take more effort than you and your friends want to put in.”

“We just need it to look good on the surface. It won’t be all that hard.”

“No, Alison. I just really rather not.”

“But it would be good PR for your business. Feel free to hand out your business cards. The more you integrate yourself into the community, the stronger your business will be.”

If only she knew that was the last thing he wanted to do for the long haul. “I haven’t had business cards designed yet.”

“That’ll cost you…hmm. Say, a box of Godiva?”

“I still don’t get that.”

“Trust me—you don’t want to know.”

“Truthfully, I have about all the business I can handle already.”

“Uh…thanks to
whom
? Is her name…Alison Carter?”

“Hey, I comped your matchmaking fee, so we’re even on that.”

“You still owe me.”

“Yeah? How do I still owe you?”

“You set me up with a felon, remember?”

He rolled his eyes. “I thought we put that to rest.”

“But I suffered psychological damage.”

“Oh, you did not.”

“No. I did. It’s just a delayed reaction. One of these days I’m going to be standing in the grocery store or something and suddenly start crying uncontrollably, and it’ll be your fault.”

“You are
so
full of crap.”

“Oh—did I mention this is for a good cause? The East Plano Preservation League. We do all kinds of good things for the preservation of history in East Plano.”

“Such as?”

“I’ll get you a copy of our mission statement. It spells it all out. Trust me—it’s a doozy.”

Brandon shook his head. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“But—”

“No.”

The smile melted away from Alison’s face, and she let out a disappointed sigh. “Oh. Okay. I understand.” She dropped her eyes, studying her shoes for a moment, then brought them back up to stare at him, looking like a homeless kitten in the rain. There was something about those big brown eyes staring up at him that made him lose his train of thought. Then that train hopped to another track, and he started wondering what such a sweet, innocent woman would look like in a tangle of sheets with morning sun streaming through the window.

And then it struck him.

She wasn’t nearly as innocent as those eyes made her seem. In fact, she was downright calculating.

Hey, stupid. Wake up. She’s playing you!

“Will you stop that?” Brandon said.

“Stop what?”

“Begging.”

“I didn’t say a word.”

“You didn’t have to. Your eyes are doing all the talking.”

She tilted her head, adding a layer of lost little girl to the homeless kitten thing.

“Will you stop that?
God
, you’re relentless.”

And still she stared at him.

Brandon closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. “You’re not going to get off this, are you?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re going to make me feel like crap if I say no, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Say no, say no, say no.
But still she was looking at him. He was going to regret this. He just knew it.

“Fine,” he said glumly. “You can use my house.”

“Yes!” Alison said, clasping her hands together. “You’re the best!
Thank
you!”

Brandon couldn’t believe how the silliest things made Alison so happy. Yeah, he didn’t much like the idea of opening up his house to strangers, but he didn’t hate the expression of pure joy she wore right now.

“Wait a minute. When is the tour?”

“It’s not until the second week of October, but that’ll be here before we know it. I’d like to get the big stuff done around here in the next couple of weeks. Then we can come back a day or two before to do a final sprucing up. Will that be all right?”

Brandon pulled up a mental calendar, wondering if he’d even still be around by then, but he realized he most likely would. They had until December to exercise the option, and while business was really picking up, he expected he’d need almost all of that time to get the money together he needed.

“Okay,” she said. “Can I take a quick tour through the house and see what needs to be done? I’ll need to report back to the board.”

“Yeah. Sure. I’ve already thrown myself on your mercy. Why stop now?” He circled his gaze around the living room. “This place could use a complete renovation. Just how much do you think is necessary to bring it up to par for the tour?”

“I’m thinking just cosmetics. That’s it.”

They went through the entry hall and the living room in short order. Nothing but cleaning and rearranging in there. Then they went into the dining room. Ditto. And the whole time Alison kept telling him how wonderful the woodwork was, and the crown moldings, and the light fixtures. Brandon had always had plenty of vision for renovating houses and seeing profit in the most dilapidated properties, but he would never consider living in a house like this if he had a choice. Alison, on the other hand, talked about it as if she’d stepped into Buckingham Palace.

They went into the kitchen. “Okay, this room needs a paint job. But we can handle that.” She looked down. “The floor shows lots of wear, but I know where I can get a rug to put over it. If we can’t fix it, we’ll hide it.”

Then they went out to the back patio.

“The stone is cracked in a lot of places,” Alison said. “But if we trim the grass coming up through the cracks, it’ll hardly be noticeable. And I know I can get Simpson’s Nursery to donate a few big clay pots and some flowers to put in them. It doesn’t have to look perfect. Just pretty.”

“Sounds fine.”

“Otherwise everything looks—oh, boy.”

“What?”

She pointed to the magnolia. “That tree. It doesn’t look as if it’s been trimmed in twenty years. One bad thunderstorm with enough wind and one of those big branches will pop off and go right through your roof.”

“Hmm. Maybe I can rent a chain saw. Trim it up.”

“Have you ever used a chain saw?”

“Uh…no.”

“You cut your finger on the air-conditioning unit. I don’t have a big enough Band‑Aid if you lose a limb.”

“Tree trimming is probably pretty expensive.”

“You won’t know until you get an estimate.”

Then Brandon remembered the guy in his grandmother’s files who did landscaping work. Yeah, he looked an ex-con, but he wouldn’t be hiring him for his handsome face.

“There’s a guy who was a client of my grandmother’s who owns a landscaping business. I’ll see if he can drop by the day everybody comes to work on the house. But I’m warning you. If it’s going to be a lot of money, I’ll just have to hope thunderstorm season is mild this year.”

“It’ll probably be cheaper than you think.”

“You’re a real optimist, aren’t you?”

“I’ve tried pessimism. It just doesn’t work for me. Let’s take a look at the second floor.”

They went back inside and up the stairs, and Alison gushed over the stained-glass window on the midfloor landing. She also loved the black-and-white tile and the claw-foot tubs in the bathrooms and the walls of windows in the bedrooms. Then they went into the room where the pool table was, and her eyes lit up again.

“Oh, my God,” she said as she walked slowly toward it. “That is the most amazingly beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s a little rough around the edges,” Brandon said. “It was in the house when my grandparents bought it, and it was already a little beat up. Age hasn’t helped it much.”

“Yeah, but it’s still gorgeous. Look at the legs! Lions? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Brandon smiled, pleased that somebody finally appreciated the old Brunswick Monarch. Tom still thought it looked like a piece of junk.

“Would you like to play?” he asked her.

“Really?” she said with a smile.

“Sure.”

“I’d love to,” she said, tossing her list and her purse to the chair behind her. “And you’d better look out. I’m pretty good at pool. Eight ball?”

Brandon smiled furtively. “Eight ball it is.”

As he gathered the balls, Alison grabbed a cue from the rack on the wall, rubbing the tip of it with chalk. She was dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a snug little T-top that drew his gaze right to her breasts, and he didn’t stop looking as she leaned over the table. He really needed not to do that. Unless she wasn’t looking. Then he intended to look all he wanted to.

As it turned out, her proclamation of pool prowess turned out to be nothing but trash talk. Her stance was all wrong, and she lined up a shot with all the expertise of a five‑year‑old. She swung her arm back in a funny arc, then whacked the cue ball just a little too hard. Okay, a
lot
too hard. It leaped into the air, then clattered back to the felt. Then, unbelievably, it traveled the length of the table and actually collided with the balls. The seven headed for the corner pocket.

Slowly.

“Come on, come on,
come on
,” Alison murmured as the ball crept toward the pocket. It teetered on the edge, then finally dropped. She threw both arms in the air. “
Woo hoo!
Did you
see
that?” She spun around to Brandon with a sly smile. “
Ha.
Told you I’m good.”

He decided not to mention that it didn’t count if she hadn’t called the shot. “I had no idea. Let’s see if you can do it again.”

Alison turned back around to study the table. “Hmm. Maybe I’ll sink that four, huh?”

“The four? You might want to think about the nine instead.”

“Yeah, of course you’d suggest that. It’s a harder shot. Do I
look
like a fool?”

“No, ma’am,” he said. “You most certainly do not.”

She lined up the cue ball with the four to knock it into a side pocket, only to stand up again with a quizzical expression. “Now, which one was I again? Stripes or solids?”

“I thought you were good at this.”

“I can shoot. I just can’t remember…you know. Which balls I am.”

“Stripes.”

“Oh,” she said, looking back at the solid four ball she’d had her eye on. “Well, then. Forget the four. That would be silly. The nine it is.”

Alison’s gentle, self-deprecating humor was such a breath of fresh air after most of the women Brandon had known, ones who were either so insecure they couldn’t admit to a fault if their lives depended on it, or so egotistical they couldn’t admit to a fault if their lives depended on it.

He rested on his cue, watching her, and as she leaned over again, he had the perfect angle to admire her ass. Her positioning was all wrong, assuming her goal was to play pool. If her goal was to drive him just a little bit crazy, she was positioned exactly right. For just a moment, he entertained himself with the thought of easing up behind her—just to correct her position, of course. He’d lean over, slide his hand down her arm, close his hand over hers, and there he’d be, his lips only inches from her neck, so close he could turn his head and—

No. Off limits. Verboten. Get your mind back where it belongs.

She leaned over her cue, and the dainty silver chain she wore around her neck swayed back and forth, sparkling in the lamp light. She moved her arm back, then took her shot. She missed the ball she was aiming for by approximately a foot and missed scratching by millimeters. Brandon leaned in, intending to dispatch the eleven and the ten simultaneously with a bank shot off the rail, which would set him up perfectly to take out the seven after that. But then it occurred to him that if he did that, a few shots later, the game would be over, and so would his entertainment for the evening.

Instead, he made a half-ass shot that sent balls banking in ways that never were going to win the game for him. But then Alison got to shoot again.

And he got to watch.

Alison crunched up her eyebrows, her forehead crinkling, as she concentrated on the shot. It was an easy one, and the three disappeared into a side pocket. She got lucky and took out one more before missing the shot after that.

Brandon dropped the twelve ball just to keep up, then missed the nine on purpose. Several rounds later, only the eight ball remained. He missed it on his turn, but managed to set it up so she could take it out with no problem.

She moved around the table and took the final shot. The eight ball fell. She let out a whoop, then turned and gave him a smug smile. “Well. You just didn’t know who you were up against, did you?”

“Oh, no. I knew exactly who I was up against.”

“Which was why you let me win?”

Brandon drew back. “What makes you think I let you win?”