Last Chance Beauty Queen (10 page)

It always felt safe inside his big arms. Try as she might to run away from Daddy and his eccentricities, every time he gave her a big hug and called her his “littlest angel,” she wanted to burrow down into his shoulder and never come up for air. When she was a little girl, before she realized that the Ark was not life-sized, she had believed that her daddy hung the moon.

The truth had hurt. A lot.

“Uh, Daddy,” Caroline said, “I want to introduce you to Hugh deBracy, Baron Woolham. Baron Woolham, this is my father, Elbert Rhodes.”

The two men stared at each other. Daddy looked at his Lordship as if he had just flown in from some alien land, which was not really too far from the truth. Hugh studied Daddy as if he really wanted to get to know the man, which made no sense at all.

Daddy narrowed his gaze in a way that made him look semicrazy. Daddy’s eyes were really pale, and they could be pretty scary when he wanted them to be. Hugh seemed impervious to Daddy’s put-on eccentric routine.

“So,” Daddy drawled, “you figure you’re going to make me an offer I can’t refuse?”

“Well, Mr. Rhodes, the truth is I’ve already offered as much money as I can afford. So I don’t think money is going to get you to give up your land.”

“I reckon that’s why you got my daughter involved.”

“Now Daddy, don’t—” Caroline started, but was unable to finish.

“Well,” Hugh interrupted, “it did occur to me when I learned of the connection between Senator Warren’s aide and this property that getting your daughter involved might be helpful.”

Indignation stiffened Caroline’s spine. “Daddy, I never said that I was going to help him—”

Elbert waved her words away. “Daughter, you should know better than to try to walk a line as fine as this one. But I’m going to forgive you for it because I know your boss is a hard man. And besides, just this morning your momma reminded me that the Lord has a plan, and this embarrassing and difficult situation might be something He thinks is necessary.”

“Daddy, I…” Her throat closed up, and she couldn’t go on. This was so typical of Daddy. Just when she was about at her limit, he would say something like this, and she’d be reduced to a puddle of butter. Daddy’s ability to forgive almost anything was something Caroline loved about him. Lots of people talked about forgiveness, but Daddy lived it every day of his life.

Daddy turned toward his Lordship with one of his patented good-ol’-boy grins. “Would you like a tour, so you’ll know exactly what you’re trying to destroy?”

Once again, the corners of Hugh’s mouth quirked. Was he laughing at Daddy? Caroline felt her hackles rise. Daddy was eccentric, but she hated people who laughed at him. Up to now, Hugh had been pretty polite and really nice to everyone in Last Chance. With the possible exception of Bubba Lockheart. And that had been a big misunderstanding.

“A tour would be lovely, thank you,” Hugh said.

Elbert headed toward Adam and Eve, the first hole on the course, talking over his shoulder as he walked. “We have eighteen holes here, the front nine are dedicated to the Old Testament and the back nine are all New Testament…” Daddy droned on about the fiberglass and the water circulation system and half a dozen other issues.

Hugh surprised Caroline by clucking in admiration in all the right places. The man even asked a number of intelligent questions about the damage the lightning storm had done.

When they got to the plague of frogs, which at one time had frolicked on fiberglass lily pads while spitting water in synchronized bursts over the fairway, the two men stopped for a long moment. The lightning storm and subsequent problems with the water circulation system had shattered the frogs’ fiberglass bodies. Now only a few shredded frog’s legs and the guts of their spitting mechanisms remained.

Daddy and Hugh hunkered down to inspect the damage and began to talk to each other in a language so filled with engineering terms that Caroline couldn’t follow. The eccentric and the Englishman seemed to be completely copacetic despite the differences in their ages and backgrounds. She was suddenly tempted to ask his Lordship what he wanted more—to fix the frogs or buy the land. At the moment, she would have bet he was all for fixing the frogs.

That thought arrowed right through her. She liked Lord Woolham when he behaved like this. He wasn’t being bombastic or arrogant. He wasn’t appalled by Golfing for God. He was
interested
. And he was treating her father with respect.

Outsiders rarely did that on a first meeting.

Maybe this was a good thing, given what she’d learned that morning at the courthouse. She didn’t want to scare him. She needed to reason with him.

Eventually Hugh stood up and leaned back against the sign that bore the verse from Exodus 8:6 about Aaron calling the frogs out of the Nile. “Elbert, I’d be most
interested in learning more about your business plan. I have just the spot for a small putting-only golf course like this at the nature center on my family’s land near Woolham House. I’m thinking maybe a course dedicated to garden gnomes.”

“Because everyone knows that gnomes are really a part of nature—as opposed to say snakes or frogs,” Caroline snarked out loud and then immediately regretted it. She should know better than to open her mouth and say something like that.

Hugh turned and arched his eyebrow. He might have looked snotty and arrogant were it not for the fact that the corner of his lips were quivering. Like maybe he thought her joke was funny.

“Well,” he said, his voice rich and warm, “my aunt has amassed a very large collection of garden gnome statues, and I’m thinking a golf course like this might be a good way to get them out of the vegetable garden.”

Daddy laughed right out loud.

Hugh gave him an imperious stare, but now his eyes were smiling, too.

“So tell me,” his Lordship continued in that stuffy accent of his, “where did you acquire all these statues?”

“We didn’t purchase them, if that’s what you’re asking,” Daddy said. “Rocky’s grandfather was a fiberglass artist. He made most of them, and I don’t think I could rival his talents.”

Hugh turned away and made a great show of inspecting the statues. “Well,” he said at last, “the fiberglass art is really quite amazing.”

“Which is one of the reasons I don’t want to sell the land,” Daddy said.

“Oh, but the statues could be saved, couldn’t they? I mean wouldn’t it make more sense to have the golf course someplace where there are more people? Like”—his Lordship shrugged—“I don’t know, the guidebook I have indicates that Hilton Head and Myrtle Beach are very big on golf.”

“I don’t live in Hilton Head or Myrtle Beach.”

“Oh, right.”

“And besides, there are the angels who live here.” Daddy stood his ground and folded his arms across his chest. He looked pretty badass when he did that.

Caroline crossed her own arms and hugged herself. She really hated it when Daddy started talking about the angels. She hadn’t always felt that way, but about the time she had figured out that the Ark was not life-sized (the same year her older brothers clued her in to the whole Santa Claus myth), she also realized there weren’t any angels. That had been extremely painful.

Hugh rubbed his chin with his right forefinger and thumb as if he were thinking deeply. “I was wondering if I might have a word with the angels? How many are there?”

This line was delivered utterly deadpan. It surprised Daddy almost as much as it surprised Caroline. “You want to talk to
my
angels?” Daddy tilted his head and studied Hugh more closely. In all of Caroline’s memory, no one had ever asked to speak with Daddy’s angels. Ever.

“Well, of course I do. I understand they aren’t happy about my factory. I’d like to find out why.”

Daddy’s bushy brows lowered, and he gave Hugh his scary Daddy face. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you? You reckon I’m going to turn around and start talking to the
air?” He shook his head. “And I almost liked you there, for a minute.”

Daddy turned toward Caroline with a killing look in his pale eyes. “Girl,” he said, “I’m going to forgive you for this, on account of the fact that I can see that Baron Woolham is as stubborn as a mule. So do us all a favor and explain to him how the angels don’t talk to everyone, won’t you? And then, in real slow words, you tell him I ain’t never gonna sell this land.”

Daddy turned on his heel and strode back toward the azaleas that lined Jesus’s tomb, shaking his head the whole way.

“Well,” Caroline said up into the frowning face of Hugh deBracy, “that went well, don’t you think?”

“I expected him to let me talk to the angels.”

Caroline gave him a funny look. “You’re kidding, right?”

“That tack always works with my Aunt Petal, the one with the gnomes and fairies. She speaks with them regularly.”

A giggle bubbled right out of Caroline’s chest. And once that giggle started, it developed a mind of its own, until it had grown from a chortle right into a bona fide belly laugh. Before she knew it, she was having trouble breathing, and tears were leaking from her eyes.

Hugh caught her sillies when that happened, and his laugh softened everything about him. It took a good minute before either of them managed to reexert control.

When Hugh had finally quit chuckling, he said, “Aunt Petal enjoys her daily chats with Woolham House’s gnomes and faeries. And in her case, she’s always been willing to invite me in for tea and conversation.”

His gaze shifted toward Daddy, who had gone back to pruning azaleas. “It would appear that your father is not nearly as dotty as Aunt Petal. That’s a shame, really.”

“I’m glad you realize that. And I hope you can see now why it’s going to be impossible to change my father’s mind. And not to be the bearer of bad news, but there are a lot of other reasons why you should think about another location.”

“What reasons?”

“I was down at the courthouse this morning looking at land platts, and I discovered that there is swampland right over there.” She pointed in a southeasterly direction. “It’s located on the land you now own. If you build on that land, the state and federal government will be all over you for wetlands permits.”

Hugh’s face turned pale. “Swampland? Really? You’re not just saying that?”

“Would you like me to take you for a canoe ride? I’m sure one of my brothers would be happy to take you upstream right into that swamp. When they were kids, they used to go gator hunting up there.”

He blanched. “Do you think George knew this when he bought the land?”

“I don’t know, but I do know you and your partner paid way too much for that land given the development issues it poses.”

“I see. Any chance of getting my money back?”

“I don’t know. We could always appeal to Hettie Marshall’s honor.”

“Hettie Marshall? Chairwoman of the Committee to Resurrect Golfing for God? She’s the one who sold the land?”

“No. Hettie probably doesn’t know a thing about it. But her husband does. He’s the one who took you to the cleaners.”

“I see.” He frowned and managed to look just a little forlorn.

“Look, not all is lost. Tomorrow morning, during the Watermelon Festival parade you may have a chance to chat with Hettie about things. Her husband is a member of the town council, and I’m sure they’ll be on the reviewing stand during the parade. Maybe you can talk her into getting her husband to give you your money back.”

Of course, Lord Woolham had no chance of getting his money back. Jimmy was either bribing officials, or propping up the chicken plant, or God knew what else. It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that Jimmy was clearly hurting for cash and getting his money back was going to be difficult.

She didn’t tell his Lordship this, of course. He wouldn’t have believed her. He was going to have to figure this out for himself.

Then, maybe, she could work with him to find a solution to his problem.

A
t around eight-thirty that evening, Caroline headed down to Dot’s Spot, Last Chance’s main watering hole. She told Momma and Daddy she was going to hear Clay and Jane’s band, the Wild Horses, but her ulterior motive was to hang out at the bar and talk to Roy Burdett.

She figured by eight-thirty Roy would be on his fourth or fifth beer. That meant she might get something out of him about those safety issues down at the chicken plant. Not that the safety issues were directly related to her reason for being in town. But still, in her experience, finding solutions to insoluble problems usually hinged on having more, not less, information.

She pushed open the door. All the regulars were there tonight, and Hugh deBracy was slumming with them.
Bam,
one glance in his direction, and the entire room faded out, leaving his Lordship in sharp relief.

He didn’t look like an English baron tonight. Oh no. Tonight he was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a
black T-shirt that showed off his seriously cut muscles. He was sitting at the bar listening in rapt attention as Roy regaled him with one of his fishing stories. This particular whopper involved a twenty-pound largemouth bass that got away.

Hugh actually appeared interested, in addition to looking really, really hot and sexy. And not at all like a character out of one of Momma’s regency romances.

The man would have fit in anywhere in those blue jeans. They looked soft, and there was a little worn spot on the left back pocket where he kept his wallet.

This was a disaster.

As long as Hugh was there listening, Roy was going to talk fishing. So any plan to get Roy to gossip about the plant went right up in smoke.

Aw hell. She was here now. She had to stay and have at least one drink or everyone would want to know why she had turned around and walked out.

Speculation would rage on and on and center on her relationship with Lord Woolham. Not that she had a relationship with the baron. But people would talk. And she couldn’t afford that, especially seeing as Senator Warren was going to be in town tomorrow and might hear something stupid.

So she marched across the floor and up to the bar, where she nodded at Hugh and Roy, and then, in an attempt to appear cool and sophisticated, she ordered a dirty vodka martini.