Last Chance Beauty Queen (7 page)

“So why not use Sirocco? It’s a lovely name. Mysterious and foreign. You look rather like a Sirocco.”

“Mysterious and foreign? Really?”

“Yes, quite.”

Wow! In all her born days, no one had ever called her mysterious and foreign. She was a country girl, no matter how hard she tried to hide all that with her business suits. “Uh, well, that’s nice, but no one knows how to spell Sirocco, probably because it’s mysterious and foreign.”

“I see.”

“Besides, Sirocco sounds a little self-important, don’t you think? On the other hand, Caroline is a nice, middle-of-the-road, domestic-sounding name. It’s perfect for my career.”

“And I rather think your career is important to you,
isn’t it? Otherwise, you would never have agreed to help me with my factory.”

She glanced over at him. It wasn’t yet fully dark, and the golden glow of the setting sun caught in the highlights of his curls and lined his profile. He was incredibly handsome.

She really needed to clear the air, before she did something dumb. “You’re right,” she said in her best senatorial aide voice, “my career is important to me. But I love my family, too. So I will do my best to introduce you to all the important people in Allenberg County, just as you’ve asked me to do. But the thing is, I’m not on your side if it means trying to force my father to sell his land. And besides, Daddy will never sell out. So maybe it’s time for you to rethink the location of your factory.”

“And I told you I was not willing to do that.”

She gritted her teeth. The man was used to getting his way, wasn’t he? “Okay, I understand. But you’re not going to win on this point. You can’t convince Daddy to sell, and if you try to push the issue, the church ladies of the Committee to Resurrect Golfing for God are going to tar and feather you.”

“I can handle churchwomen.”

She stifled a snort of laughter. Hugh deBracy had no idea what he was up against. It might be fun to watch Hettie and her minions take him apart piece by piece.

Caroline pulled into Miriam Randall’s driveway, just as the daylight had faded to dusk. “Here we are, Lord Woolham. I’ll give you a call in the morning when I get a better sense of our schedule. I don’t think we’ll have anything on the agenda until midmorning at the earliest.” She set the parking brake.

“Are you going to schedule a meeting with these church ladies who want to save the golf course?”

“Absolutely. The Committee to Resurrect Golfing for God always meets on Friday at noontime at the Cut ’n Curl. I have no doubt they’ll want to meet you. They are all pretty curious.”

“Curious about me?”

“Yes. You see, they read a lot of regency romances. And they all watched the royal wedding together over at Thelma Hanks’s house. They’re still talking about the breakfast kippers she served that morning.”

“I see.”

“I’m sure I can get you on the agenda for tomorrow’s meeting. Momma owns the Cut ’n Curl. I have an in.” She gave Hugh one of her best professional smiles.

It was as phony as a three-dollar bill.

He turned in his seat and studied her for a long, breathless moment. No doubt he was thinking about her lowly station in life, the daughter of a hairdresser and a putt-putt owner. Well, he could just fry in hell for all she cared. She kept her grin steady.

After a long moment, he said, “I get the distinct feeling that you are trying to deliver me to the lions, Miss Rhodes.”

“I’m doing no such thing. Meeting with the members of the Committee to Resurrect Golfing for God is one way to get your opposition in a single room. After all, didn’t you just say that you knew how to handle churchwomen?”

“I suppose I did say that.”

“And I pointed out that it was hopeless. And I’m trying, with great professional patience, to show you the
error in your thinking. You aren’t going to build that factory on my daddy’s land.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t appreciate it if I told Senator Warren that you weren’t being helpful.”

The bottom of her stomach dropped a couple of inches. This was her biggest fear—that Lord Woolham would say something to Senator Warren, and her boss would suddenly realize that Caroline wasn’t up to the task of being his main administrative assistant in Washington.

“No, Lord Woolham, I wouldn’t appreciate you calling the senator and saying things like that. The fact is, I’ve been very helpful. I’m introducing you around. I’m helping you to see the facts. And I talked my brother out of arresting you tonight.”

“Yes, you did, didn’t you?” He said the words in his stuffy accent as if he didn’t really appreciate the fact that she’d pulled out all the stops for him. Her brother could be kind of serious-minded.

She held her tongue. There were any number of choice things she could think of saying, but none of them would be acceptable. He was going to really screw up her life, wasn’t he?

Lord Woolham opened the passenger side door and stepped out into the hot and humid night. The porch light burned brightly, silhouetting him as he walked toward the old house. He was tall and well built, and arrogant as the day was long.

She hated him.

Hugh strolled down the walk toward Miriam Randall’s boardinghouse, trying not to be amused by the gravel Caroline had kicked up with her sudden, ferocious departure.

Granddad certainly wouldn’t have been amused. Granddad had been grumpy and unpleasant and often quite mean to people. Granddad would have called the senator by now and demanded that Caroline be removed from her job.

But of course, Hugh had no intention of calling the senator and complaining. A complaint might just unsettle things further. The pixie-like Miss Rhodes would definitely fight for her job, and in the process, she might discover how flimsy his financing was. And then where would he be?

No, it was best to let things lie and see what the senator’s dishy aide could come up with as a solution. He was getting the feeling she was actually quite competent at her job.

She had done a marvelous job of sweet-talking that copper out of arresting him. And really, he had seriously overreacted this evening. Given all of that, Caroline had been remarkably civil and helpful. That wouldn’t have mattered to Granddad, of course. Granddad was a terrible snob—he would have looked right through a working-class girl like Caroline and steamrollered over her and her father’s golf course.

And that, in a nutshell, was the difference between Hugh and his granddad.

He stepped up on a creaky porch step. The old Victorian home was just a little shabby—kind of like Woolham House, although on a much smaller scale. He reached the top step and realized that he wasn’t alone.

A little white-haired lady sat rocking patiently on the porch. “Good evening,” he said in his best public school voice. “You must be Miriam Randall. I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

“Sit down and visit a spell. It’s Hugh, isn’t it?” She gestured toward an adjoining rocker.

Granddad would have sniffed at this woman using his first name. But Hugh kind of liked the fact that she’d been so familiar.

And besides, he was in a different land, with different mores, and he’d gotten into quite a bit of mischief. So he sat in the rocker and rested his head against its back. His companion kept up her steady motion, an old floorboard protesting with each transit of the rocker. The sound of the squeaky board provided a counterpoint to the buzz of insects and the deeper song of the frogs.

Boxwood and summer perennials perfumed the balmy night. “Your garden is quite lovely,” he remarked in a bald-faced attempt to get on her good side. Gardeners, he knew from long experience, could be easily wooed into long, benign conversations.

“Well, thank you, son, but it’s not my garden. I have a brown thumb when it comes to plants. Lord knows what will happen when Harry leaves me.”

“Harry?”

“My husband of fifty-one years. I’m afraid the Lord means to take him from me soon.” She gazed out toward the screen of pines that hid her home from the street. She seemed melancholy, and Hugh decided to remain silent until he could politely get away to his room, where a great deal of work awaited him. His prototype had been built, of course, but he and his handpicked team of engineers (basically a bunch of classmates from university who were moonlighting on the project) were still working out some of the kinks in the planned manufacturing process. There would be dozens of e-mails to read.

Miriam lifted her old hands from the rocker’s arms, and Hugh noted the swellings at each joint. His old Great-Aunt Maude had suffered terrible arthritis in her hands, and often the pain would drive her from her bed and down into the ladies’ parlor, where old Sam would set a fire for her in the stone fireplace. Sometimes, when Hugh had come home from school on holiday, he’d sit up with her well into the wee hours, telling stories over tea, just to help ease her pain.

Great-Aunt Maude had been gone for almost fifteen years. He relaxed into the movement of the rocker and let the nostalgia settle in. It was a lovely, star-filled night—perfect for reverie.

Miriam took another deep breath and let it out. “You know I keep praying that the Lord will send Dash a gardener, but that’s a selfish kind of prayer. The Lord will send Dash what Dash needs, and Lord knows that boy needs a great deal. I reckon I’ll have to be happy if He sends a strong woman, even if she does have a brown thumb like me.”

“Well, I suppose Dash could always hire a gardener if push came to shove.”

“Ah, so you’ve been in town long enough to know the state of my nephew’s bank account.”

“Well, I had heard something along the lines that he was well off.” Which begged the question as to why Miriam Randall’s house looked as if it might tumble down around her ears. Was Dash one of those selfish bastards?

“Hiring a gardener would break Harry’s heart. Harry loves this garden, and the house, too. He used to work on things all day long. Kept him fit until the last year. Now he can’t breathe well enough to walk across the room.
Dash hired a man to do some weeding, and Harry nearly ’bout had a fit.”

She let go of a long breath. “Well, I don’t have much to complain about. Fifty-one years of happiness is more than most of us get, I reckon.”

Perhaps Dash wasn’t selfish at all. And the old lady didn’t need or want any kind of affirmation of what was, after all, a platitude. Fifty-one years of happiness were more than many got, but if one was left behind, it would still never be enough.

She rocked a long moment in silence. “I do like a man who knows when to keep his mouth shut.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was intended as such. And more so, given what you’ve been up to this evening.”

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d get to that. Shall I pack my bags and take myself off to the Peach Blossom Motor Court?”

Miriam laughed and turned her head. The yellow porch light caught a glimmer in her dark, myopic stare. Her eyeglasses were perched on the top of her head, and the twin indentations on either side of her nose told him that she was probably blind without them.

He knew the feeling. He was utterly blind without his contact lenses. But there were times when leaving them out and letting the world blur would give him a moment of inner peace.

“No, I don’t think I’ll send you off to the Peach Blossom. That would put you at Lillian Bray’s mercy.”

“Lillian Bray?”

“Hmm. She’s the chair of the Christ Church Ladies Auxiliary, a member of the town council, and the chair
of the Garden Club. Now
there
is a woman who takes gardening seriously. Her gladioli are legendary.”

“Really?” he said politely, as if he were sitting down to tea with Great-Aunt Maude.

“Yes. And she’s on your side, if you must know.”

“Well then, I will have to seek her out and enlist her work on my behalf.”

“You do that.” There was a sour note in Miriam’s voice.

“I take it you’re not keen on my building a factory here in Last Chance. Would it change your mind if I told you it would employ two hundred people?”

“Not if it means disturbing the angels who’ve been watching over this town for a hundred and fifty years.” She stopped rocking. “You know about the angels, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes, Caroline was very thorough with her briefing. I told her we needed to get the angels on our side.”

Miriam huffed a laugh. “Lord a’mercy, you are a funny man. But honey, that may be harder than you think.”

“Why not? The factory will create jobs. If the angels are interested in protecting the town, wouldn’t they see that?”

“Hmmm. Good point. But you see, the angels are probably on the side of the environmentalists. And even if they aren’t, I’m thinking Elbert’s angels are more interested in having people learn their Bible by playing golf than helping with the unemployment situation. And that’s why we formed our committee. The golf course could easily save the town. It is a marvel, and well, there is only one Golfing for God, and there are factories everywhere.”

“That’s a very good point. I wonder if it would be possible to move the golf course.”

“Move it?”

“Hmm. Yes, all the statues and whatnot.”

The old woman leaned forward. “Hugh, honey, have you seen the golf course?”

“No. I gather Caroline is trying to schedule something for tomorrow.”

Miriam chuckled. “You know, I wouldn’t count on Rocky being entirely on your side on this.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not counting on her.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “She’s conflicted, of course. I’m certainly not above using her local knowledge. But I’m not foolish enough to trust her.”

“If you don’t mind my saying so, I think you had better count on the fact that you aren’t going to get that land. You’d have to convince God, and He’s on Elbert’s side, I believe.”

“That’s too bad for the people of Last Chance, isn’t it? Because I’m very close to losing my patience. I could very easily return home to the UK, marry Lady Ashton, and forget about this project altogether.”

Miriam turned and pulled her glasses down and rested them on her nose. They were thick trifocals, upturned at their corners and decorated with rhinestones. They reminded Hugh of Aunt Petal’s eyeglasses, although Miriam’s frames were a steely blue and Aunt Petal wore frames the color of a male gnome’s hat—holly berry red.