Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True Series Book 2) (24 page)

Feeling like she’d just failed inspection, Laura held out her hand to Amanda who looked at it a moment, then latching on to her wrist, hauled Laura in for an unexpected hug. She eyed Nathan over his sister’s shoulder. He wore a perplexed look, topped off with a grin.

Releasing Laura, Amanda stepped back. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend! ‘Bout damn time!”

Relieved about his sister, Nathan choked back a laugh at Laura’s discomfiture, as she sputtered and
stammered to clarify that they were just friends. Offering no assistance in that department, Nathan reached out for Laura’s hand, grasping tighter as she tried to tug free.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, anyway,” Amanda said. “This calls for a celebration. I’ve got a pot of fresh black-eyed peas on the stove, a pecan pie in the fridge, and the makings for cornbread in the cupboard. All we need is some fried chicken to go with it. I’ll just go pick out a chicken. Be back in a few. Meanwhile, Laura, make yourself at home.”

Amanda headed toward the back of the house and shortly the screen door slammed again.

“Is she going to do what I think she’s going to do?” Laura’s face went pale, as she lifted her hand to her throat.

“I don’t know. What do you think she’s going to do?” Nathan asked, holding back his amusement.

“Is she—” She swallowed. “Is she going to . . . kill a chicken? For dinner?” The last part came out in a squeak.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve had farm-fresh chicken.”

Laura covered her mouth. “Super.”

Chapter 20

After retrieving the bags from the car, they reentered the house, the cool dim interior a contrast to the bright sunshine. The screen door slammed behind them, and after all the excitement, Laura was finally able to observe her surroundings.

To the right of the front door was a tidy living room, with a love-worn sofa and chairs centered around a fireplace, the same red brick as the chimneys. Beside the fireplace stood a bookcase loaded with books,
tchotchkes
, and framed photos. Hand-woven rugs scattered over the warm pine floor like so many fall leaves.

To the left of the hall was an office, where an ancient roll-top desk stood guard at the front window. The top was open to reveal stacks of papers, a
Farmer’s Almanac
—did people really still use those things?—and other office paraphernalia stuffed into the nooks and crannies. More bookcases lined the walls with books on farming and animal husbandry.

“The bedrooms are upstairs.” Nathan led the way up a steep staircase, carrying their suitcases, to a second floor with four doors opening off the hallway. “There’s only one bathroom, so we’ll all have to share.”

“Oh.”

“The Ritz it ain’t,” Nathan said with some chagrin. “You’ll be in my grandmother’s room.” He headed down the hall to a door on the end.

“I’ll be—” Laura stopped. “We’re not sharing a room?”

“I thought it best if we didn’t. It might make Amanda uncomfortable. She’s always been shy.”

“All right,” she muttered. If he called that forthright welcome Amanda had given her shy, she’d hate to see his definition of boisterous.

He ushered her into a cozy room with a beautiful old spool bed, covered in a faded wedding ring quilt. Homemade curtains hung in the windows overlooking the hills behind the house. A chest of drawers stood next to the tiny fireplace, framed black-and-white and daguerreotype photos perched along the top.

Setting her Vuitton bag on the bed, he pulled her toward him. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot to me.”

Laura shrugged. “What are friends for?”

“Is that what we are? Friends?” His hands rested on her hips, gazed into her eyes, and the familiarity of his touch warmed her from the inside out.

“Friends with benefits,” she clarified with a teasing smile. A frown crossed his features. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. I’ll let you get unpacked and meet you downstairs.”

Nathan left, giving her the opportunity to check out her accommodations—a.k.a. snoop. The photos intrigued her. Nathan’s ancestors perhaps?

She picked up one of a beautiful young woman, hair in a Gibson Girl style, ringlets framing her oval face, a slight smile touching her lips. His great-great grandmother? There was another of a woman standing in front of a late-1940’s-style automobile, spectators on her feet, a perky hat on her head. His grandmother maybe? A photo of a young brunette woman with eighties big hair, cut sweatshirt hanging off her shoulder—the only color photo on the chest—captured her attention next.

Carrying the photo over to the window, she held it up to the light. Nathan’s mother. No question. He had her eyes, her hair color. Her smile. Who was this woman? What had happened to her? And had she given Nathan the love and affection he deserved? She hoped so.

Laura returned the photo to its place, wondering why it mattered so much to her.

Nathan heard Laura’s
footsteps upstairs treading on the familiar creaky floorboards of his grandmother’s room, as he poured over the notices from the mortgage company, the certified letters from the developer and their attorneys, the bills.

Combing his hands through his hair, he sank to the chair in front of the desk. The developer’s offers were fair. They could pay off the mortgages, take the remaining money and never look back. Maybe Amanda could find a smaller farm for sale, start new.

But that wasn’t the point. This was the only real home Amanda had ever known. The safe, stable environment she deserved. And she loved it. Every creaky floorboard, every drafty corner, every plant, tree, and rock on the property. She got her strength from this farm.

His sister had been painfully shy when they’d first arrived, but she’d come out of her shell when she tended the farm animals. She had a special knack for soothing them, communicating with them. And she had a green thumb to boot. When she was nine, Gram had given her a small plot to plant her very own vegetable garden, and damned if it hadn’t thrived under her care.

As he grew older, and Gram grew more frail, he took on more and more responsibility for the farm, including the bookkeeping, while his sister took on the planting and animal care. The high school football coach had salivated over Nathan’s muscular build, gained throwing around bales of hay and bags of chicken feed, not to mention his speed in the forty. The baseball coach wanted him, too. His curveball had been a thing of beauty. But after his sophomore year, things like sports and other after-school activities just weren’t in the cards for him.

As Amanda hit her teens, she began to draw the attention of the young men in the town, and Nathan gained a reputation as her protector. He wouldn’t let his baby sister make the same mistakes as his mother. She would go to college and earn her degree in agricultural science. It had been her dream to take over the farm, reclaiming the leased acres and cultivating them herself.

Over the years, his grandmother leased out more and more of the property for grazing and cultivation, but Amanda had come home with that degree, and as the leases expired, she’d taken over their cultivation, adding new crops like organic soybeans and sorghum grain. She’d also added beef cattle to the land.

No. This land was hers. She’d nurtured it, sweated over it. By George, she would keep it.

Hoping to satisfy her curiosity, L
aura crept down the hall, uttering a curse when a board groaned beneath her feet, and headed in what she hoped was the direction of Nathan’s room. Sticking her head in the only other open door off the hallway, she hit pay dirt.

The small room held what looked like a double bed, no headboard, covered with a blue chenille bedspread. His clothes, some jeans, a few T-shirts, his boxers, were in neat piles on top. A battered chest-of-drawers stood in the corner next to the room’s only window. A colorful throw rug lay on the floor at the foot of the bed.

Hmm. She didn’t know what she’d expected. Posters of his favorite sports heroes, maybe? A centerfold of Phoebe Cates? But his walls were bare except for a few paint-by-number landscapes.

What had he been like as a little boy? A troublemaker? A good student? A protector, as evidenced by his concern over his sister? He’d already told her about baseball, so he must have been a good athlete. But what else had he been?

Shaking her head, she left his room. Since when did the inner-workings of people’s lives interest her?

Laura could feel her arteries hardening
just looking at the food laid out before her. A bowl of what appeared to be otherwise healthy black-eyed peas, surrounded by pieces of fatback. Crispy fried chicken, of the freshly wrung variety. Roasted corn-on-the-cob swimming in butter. Cornbread made with bacon grease. Pecan pie in a crust so flaky it could only have been made with lard. And a big pitcher of sweet iced tea to wash it all down. The one healthy concession, a plate of fresh-sliced tomatoes and cucumbers.

Laura felt Nathan’s eyes on her as she took a seat at the big table in the middle of a kitchen that looked like it hadn’t changed since the 1950’s.

Amanda chattered on about this cow or that laying hen, Nathan asking questions every so often. Amanda took Laura’s plate and heaped it full with peas, tomatoes, cucumbers, and cornbread.

“White meat or dark?” Amanda asked.

“Hmm?”

“Would you like a breast, a drumstick, a thigh? I also fried up the gizzard and the neck.”

Laura could feel the blood drain from her face. Gizzards? Necks?
What the hell?
If she didn’t select something fast, the next thing she knew Amanda would be offering her the feet. “Oh, breast is fine. Thank you.”

She waited, eyeing the food, while Nathan and Amanda helped themselves. Her eyes widened when she saw Nathan put the gizzard on his plate.
Blech.
Note to self: do not kiss Nathan again until he brushes his teeth. With bleach.

She took her first tentative bite of the chicken, trying to forget it didn’t come from her local meat market.
Wow!
Okay. She took another bite. “Mmm.” Did she just groan out loud?

“Good, huh?” Amanda chirped. “My grandmother’s recipe. She always made the best fried chicken.”

Nathan’s face split into a big, silly grin, as he shoveled a forkful of fat-laden black-eyed peas into his mouth.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, and Laura found herself licking her fingers. Miss Manners—a.k.a. her mother—would be horrified. The thought made her smirk, as she stuck another finger in her mouth.

Nathan looked across the table at Laura, as she su
cked a finger into her mouth. Aside from the erotic thoughts that sprang to mind, seeing the perfectly poised, well-mannered Laura Armstrong licking her fingers made him smile.

If someone had told him the day he met Laura that she’d be sitting at the table in his grandmother’s kitchen he’d have told them they were nuts. Or on drugs.

Covering a laugh, his gaze traveled to his sister. He never really noticed before he left, how much she’d changed. And even more since he’d been gone. She’d been confident in her farming and animal husbandry skills, but now, she displayed a strength and courage he never thought he’d see from his otherwise shy sister.

Having these two women here in, for all intents and purposes, his childhood home, made him feel complete for the first time in a very long time.

Hating to ruin the warmth of the occasion, he knew they had to discuss the elephant in the room. Saving the farm. “After dinner, Amanda and I need to go over some farm business. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, I’ve got work to do,” Laura said, throwing him a meaningful glance.

Ah, yes, the pitch.
He hadn’t forgotten that he also had work to do there. It would be a late night.

“I’ll clean up,” Laura offered.

“No,” Amanda interjected. “Gram would have our hides if we let a guest clean up the kitchen. It won’t take long. Besides, I know where everything goes.”

Nathan stared at Laura, his mouth agape. He’d be willing to bet she’d never cleaned anything in her life, much less the kitchen. He doubted she even knew how. Which made him appreciate the offer that much more.

Powering on her laptop, Laura settled again at the kitchen table
to catch up on emails. Her team was putting in weekend hours, making revisions to the pitch, polishing the presentation, fine-tuning the numbers. Which left her feeling guilty over her absence.

Reviewing the documents in her inbox would go a long way to assuaging some of that guilt.

Opening the draft proposal, she got down to business.

Before long, she could hear Nathan’s and Amanda’s voices drifting in from the office, just on the other side of the kitchen. Trying not to eavesdrop, she focused on the campaign’s objectives, tweaking them to a laser-sharp focus.

“Even if we pay off the mortgages, the house needs a new roof, the barn is practically falling down around poor Midnight. There’s a leak right over his stall, and the septic tank’s been backing up.”

“Amanda,” Laura heard Nathan’s patient voice, “one thing at a time. First and foremost, pay off the mortgages, or at the very least get caught up.” He sighed. “If we lose the farm, none of the other problems matter.”

Laura’s ears perked up.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“So where do we stand on the mortgages? Since we’re not technically in default—”

“Yet.”

“Yet. The ten thousand I sent you appeased the mortgage company, right?”

The mortgages Nathan was talking about that day in S
anta
Margherita Ligure?

“For now, but I’m always teetering on the brink, with the developers breathing down my neck, ready to pounce like a hungry mountain lion.”

“I’ve reviewed the farm’s books, and you made a profit on the cattle you sold, as well as the organic soybeans.”

“Transitioning the farm operations to organic is lowering the production costs, and with the increase in returns per acre, I can reach my overall economic goal with half the acres. This gives me grazing land for more cattle. I can do this, Nathan. I can make the farm profitable. I just need to get out from under the banks. And fend off the developers.”