Last Chance Beauty Queen (31 page)

BOOK: Last Chance Beauty Queen
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After Rocky had left him last night, he’d taken a long walk, right into a rather seedy roadhouse across the street from the Magnolia Inn.

His single beer turned into more than one, and before he knew it, he’d befriended a group of locals and got
pulled into a game of eight-ball snooker. Luckily the tavern was within walking distance of his room at the Inn because he’d gotten himself pissing drunk.

It seemed the appropriate thing to do, seeing as his fantasy woman had left in a huff, and he had no earthly clue how to win her back.

He reached for his mobile phone and checked the caller ID.

“Petunia,” he said as he pressed the talk button. He tried to sound bright and chipper, but he failed. “Is there a problem at home, love?”

“Is there a problem?” The timber of Petunia’s voice reminded him of the times when he’d disappointed his aunt. Disappointing Petunia was far worse than disappointing Granddad. Granddad was always disappointed. But disappointing Petunia was a rare thing and always made him feel very low indeed.

“Have I done something wrong?” he asked.

Silence beat at him for several long moments before she spoke again. “Everything is fine at home. But not here in South Carolina. I’ve just had the most amazing story from Mrs. Harry Randall. My word, Hugh, this is a very interesting village you’ve found for your factory. Petal quite approves of it.”

Hugh sat up in bed. It was a big mistake. His head felt like someone was driving nails through it. “Are you here?”

“Where is here? I am in Last Chance, South Carolina. You, apparently, are not here. According to your landlady, you did not return home last night. That is, apparently, cause for much gossip and speculation, which is quite unseemly.”

“You’re in Last Chance? Why?”

“Simple, really. Petal insisted that we had to come. Something about Queen Aeval being very upset with you.”

“Queen Aeval, the mythological goddess of Irish fishwives? Since when do you believe in Aeval?”

“When Aeval and my own spiritual guides are in agreement, that’s when.”

“Oh, Christ.”

“Yes, well, perhaps He can help, but I’m not one to put much faith in Him. Is it true what they say here? That you’re trying to force that man who owns the golf course off his property? My word, Hugh, I would expect something like that from Father, but not from you.”

“Granddad
would
approve, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes, well, he might. But I don’t. Goodness, Hugh, couldn’t you build your factory someplace not already occupied?”

“Yes, I can. In fact, I was made a very nice offer yesterday to do just that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. A textile heiress wants to buy my loom technology.”

“And you accepted this offer?”

“No, I didn’t. I probably should have. That would have made everyone happy. I would have lived up to the family motto—
Honor in duty
—and all that.”

“Really, there are more important things than duty and honor, Hugh.”

“Not according to Granddad.”

“Well, he was misguided.”

“Maybe he was. But he was usually right. And if I’d been more like him, I wouldn’t have made such a mess of things.”

“I take it this textile heiress isn’t named Rocky Rhodes.” Petal managed to put her finger right on the heart of the matter.

His face burned. “Aunt Petunia, please. I don’t think—”

“Exactly, Hugh, you haven’t been thinking. I’m quite appalled, really. You’ve been behaving like Father, with all this rot about duty and honor and heiresses. It’s a very good thing Petal insisted we come before you made yourself a complete villain.”

“Right. Look, Aunt Petunia I—”

“We need to talk. Face-to-face. You will meet us here at Mrs. Randall’s boardinghouse directly. And then we are all going down to City Hall for the meeting at two o’clock. You will stand up and you will tell the town council that you oppose the plan to force that man off his land.”

Hugh was not about to go back to Miriam Randall’s boardinghouse to be dressed down by his aunts. He would, however, go to the meeting of the town council. He owed Rocky that much.

“I’ll be at the council meeting. I’ll see you there.” He pressed the disconnect button before she could say another word.

He would clear up this problem with the town council and make it clear that he had no intention of forcing Elbert Rhodes from his land. And then he had to make a choice: Cissy Warren or Lady Ashton.

He propped himself in his bed for a long, long moment, weighing his dream of a factory against his duty to his family.

There was no contest. Duty won out. He was, after all, a deBracy.

He would go home and marry Lady Ashton, which was, oddly, precisely what Miriam Randall had predicted he would do.

Rocky leaned against the fence at the Painted Corner Stable and watched as Lizzy made another circuit around the corral, controlling her horse’s gait with nothing more than the pressure of her legs.

The horse was as big as a house, but Lizzy had complete control of that critter. The sight of Lizzy and the horse put an unexpected smile on Rocky’s lips. The kid was turning into someone Sharon would have been so proud of.

Dash Randall watched from the corral fence, making the occasional comment on form and technique. He was completely focused on the girl and horse, and it was nice to see Dash at work, doing something useful that didn’t involve a bat and a ball.

Not that Rocky had anything against baseball. And baseball had certainly been good for Dash. But baseball had been an addiction for Dash, sort of like Hettie Marshall, and alcohol. Maybe he was making a new start.

She hoped so. In fact, she was depending on it.

She kept her distance until Lizzy finished her session and had dismounted. When Lizzy started walking the horse, Rocky moved down the fence line until she was standing right beside the big ex-jock.

“Your niece has talent,” Dash said. “She might want to think about competing in dressage one day. She’s got that horse doing things I thought he never would. That’s Hettie’s rescued Thoroughbred she’s been helping me train.
And that horse was broken down when he came here. Lizzy’s done a great job with him.”

“You got a minute to talk?” Rocky asked.

He tipped the Stetson back on his head, and the sun sparked in those blue eyes of his. “I’ve heard that Rachel and Bubba are an item now, so I’m done with any and all masquerades. Although you gotta admit I’m a genius. Maybe I inherited some of Aunt Mim’s magic.”

“Miriam is related to you by marriage.”

“Oh, yeah, well, there is that.” He gave her a lopsided smile.

“I came to deliver some gossip and to ask you to do something that you’re probably not going to want to do.”

“Okay, that’s pretty ominous. Sort of like bad news and more bad news.” He leaned his body against the fence post, obviously shifting his weight to his good leg.

“Exactly. I’ll start with the gossip, which I got from a firsthand source, so it’s more like news than gossip.”

“Yeah? And?”

“Hettie went into Jimmy’s office about half an hour ago, slapped his face, and told him she wasn’t going to bail him out anymore. She threatened divorce if Jimmy didn’t get his act together, and she vowed to stand in the way of the effort to bulldoze Daddy’s golf course.”

Dash’s smile faded. “From the talk around town, that makes her a better person than you.”

Rocky put her hands on her hips. “Dash, you know good and well I would never try to have the council condemn Daddy’s land.”

“Yeah, I reckon. But that Englishman you’ve been so cozy with would.”

She gritted her teeth. “Yes, I suppose he would, but that’s not what I came here to talk about, okay?”

“Cried yourself to sleep last night, huh?”

She glared at him. “Would you please shut up for five minutes? This is really important.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Hettie’s trust fund isn’t what it used to be. I know this because she told me. And I think you know it, too, because you’ve been paying top dollar for Jimmy’s land. Obviously, Jimmy is strapped for cash. I don’t know what Jimmy is into—gambling, bad investments, it’s not important. Whatever it is, he’s started cutting corners down at the plant. And sooner or later, he’s going to get caught.

“I’m guessing that you offered to buy the plant from Jimmy, but he wouldn’t sell because he’s a rat bastard and he’s always hated you.”

The lopsided smile disappeared. “I’m impressed you figured that out,” he said in a very sober voice.

“It didn’t take a genius.”

“So what’s the favor?”

“Someone has to save this town or it’s going to end up like most of the other small towns in America. And for that, we need a real tax base. We can’t be a picturesque place with independent shopkeepers, unless we have some bigger businesses providing good manufacturing jobs. The chicken plant does that, but if the state swoops in and shuts it down, where the heck are we going to be?”

Dash’s gaze became oddly focused. “Gee, Rocky, to hear you talk, I might think you cared.”

“I do care. I don’t want the chicken plant to fail. I love this town.”

“Sometimes you have a strange way of showing it, girl. You couldn’t wait to leave this place. And you stay away at Watermelon Festival time. And from what I hear, you’re heading off to Washington any day now for a big career in politics.”

A deep pang of regret darted through Rocky’s chest. “Yeah, you’re right. I ran away. I’ve been absent. But I still love my folks and I love this town. Every time I see the water tower on the horizon, I get all lumpy in the throat.”

His smile returned. “Well, that’s nice to know.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Look, Dash, you can lose the smug tone. The town’s in trouble, and I’m not in a position to save it.”

Their gazes locked.

“But you are,” she whispered.

“Me?” His baby blues got big and round. “Me, the messed-up bad boy drunk? I don’t think so. I’m just about the last person on the face of the planet Jimmy Marshall wants to do business with. He only let me buy his land because there wasn’t anyone else interested. Most of it’s not worth much. So how, exactly, am I supposed to save the town?”

“You can give Lord Woolham land north of town. You could even invest in his factory. He’s not proud. He’d take your money, and I’ve got a feeling he’s going to be really successful. Cissy Warren’s hot to have his technology. She’s made him an offer, and if he accepts it, the factory is going to be built upstate. Do you want that to happen?”

He stood there staring at her. “Holy crap, you’ve fallen ass over tea kettle for him, haven’t you?”

“Look, Dash, this isn’t about Hugh. This is about you
and the town. You could be everyone’s hero, Dash, the way Bubba once was. Only you’d be a real hero, instead of just a football hero. There isn’t anyone else who can save this town. And think of how happy Hettie will be if you save Golfing for God.”

CHAPTER
19

T
he air-conditioning at City Hall was taxed beyond its capacity. Sweat collected under Hugh’s arms and dampened the back of his shirt. Arrayed before him on a small dais, behind a scarred and battered mahogany table, sat the members of the Last Chance Town Council. Big Bob presided, wearing a bow tie and a seersucker suit. Bob looked quite put out by this emergency meeting.

Lillian Bray was turned out in a white dress that made her look like a Wagnerian opera singer without the long braids. Kamaria LaFlore wore a dress made of kente cloth. Dale Pontius looked a bit like Mr. Chips with his round glasses, moustache, and balding head. And Jimmy Marshall, dressed for the golf course, looked bored.

“All right, ya’ll, we’re here and it’s hot, so let’s get this over with as quickly as possible.” Big Bob mopped his brow with a white handkerchief. “Lillian, I believe you have something to say?”

“Yes, I do.” Lillian folded her hands in front of her and looked down her long narrow nose. “As ya’ll know, I
was brutally accosted last evening by Elbert Rhodes. And we all know that Doc Cooper thinks he may have finally lost his mind. Given that fact, and the fact that our town desperately needs new investment, I think we should consider using our town’s power of eminent domain to condemn Golfing for God, so that Lord Woolham can build his factory on that land.” Lillian stopped and gave Hugh a big smile that burned a hole right in the middle of his chest.

Big Bob took a breath and folded his handkerchief and returned it to his pocket. “Is there any discussion on this item?” he asked.

None of the other council members made a move to speak. So Hugh knew it was his time to stand up and stop this nonsense. He walked down to the microphone placed before the dais.

Before he could identify himself, or state his business, a commotion broke out in the hallway. The door to the chamber burst open, and a half-dozen women bearing hand-lettered signs marched up the aisle chanting, “Down with Lord deBracy.” Hettie Marshall was in the lead, and it was almost as if her calm exterior had cracked a little between yesterday and today. She wore a blue suit and pearls, but her hair was askew, her eyes were big and a little wild, and she was chanting louder than all the others. It was almost as if she’d suddenly discovered her inner rebel.

“Good lord, Lavinia, what are you doing here?” Big Bob said to the woman right behind Hettie, who was carrying a sign that said, “God Bless Golfing for God.”

The woman named Lavinia glowered at Big Bob. “I could be asking you the same thing. What makes you
think you can just take away Bert Rhodes’s land when he’s never been anything but nice to you? And besides, we all love his wife.”

“Lavinia, you get your butt back home, you hear?” Bob said.

“I will not. And if you think you’re going to do this thing and have a blissful retirement with me, you have another thing coming. Doesn’t he, girls?” Lavinia turned around to her compatriots, her dark eyes sparking with her passion.

“Right on,” the girls chorused with a few fist pumps. They renewed picketing up and down the aisle. All of them were wearing trainers on their feet, so it appeared they were ready to stay for quite a while.

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