Best Laid Wedding Plans Page 18

  Moose made notations on a little notepad.

  Heading for the door, she said, “Order them, Moose. All of them. Take care of the paperwork and get a total for me. I’ll be back in thirty minutes or less to pay you, in full, up front. I have to take care of something first.”

  Outside, she threw her car into reverse and backed onto the street. The ’Vette ate up the short distance to the bank way before she’d cooled off even a fraction of a degree.

  She stormed into Coastal Plains Savings and Trust, slammed past Gloria, and marched into Richard’s office.

  Jasper Nolan, her high school biology teacher, sat in the chair opposite Richard.

  He looked up in surprise, then tipped his worn ball cap. “Jenni Beth, nice to—” He hesitated, a wary look coming into his eyes. “Um, it’s real nice to see you.”

  “Mr. Nolan, y’all are going to want to leave for a few minutes.” She spoke through gritted teeth.

  His head swiveling from one to the other, Jasper stood.

  “Nonsense.” Richard waved him back into the chair. “Jenni Beth, I’m in the middle of something.”

  “You sure as hell are.”

  Jasper’s eyes went wide. “Jenni Beth? Everything okay?”

  Without so much as a glance at him, her eyes fixed on the banker, she answered, “No. It’s not. But it will be. Close the door on your way out, please, Mr. Nolan.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jasper’s gaze settled on Richard, then Jenni Beth one more time. Without another word, he left, shutting the door softly behind him.

  “Your parents would be very disappointed in your behavior, Jenni Beth Beaumont.”

  She squinted as though giving it some thought before she shook her head. “No, I don’t think they would be.”

  “Have a seat.”

  “I don’t want to have a seat, you low-down, backstabbing—” She cut herself off. “What are you doing?”

  Richard tugged at the knot in his tie. “Watch your mouth, young lady.” He folded his hands on top of his desk. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Is that right? I just came from the appliance store. Seems they need full payment in advance. Someone suggested I might not be good for the money. Any idea who that someone would be?” Moving to his desk, she placed her palms on the shiny surface he was so proud of and leaned toward him.

  He rolled his chair back an inch.

  Her lips curved. “You’re a coward to boot, aren’t you?”

  “If this is the kind of aggressive, unladylike behavior you’ve learned in the city, I have to tell you it’s not at all becoming.”

  She said nothing, simply stared at him.

  “It’s time for you to leave.” He hit the intercom button. “Gloria, Jenni Beth Beaumont is leaving now. Would you send Walter in to escort her out?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” She straightened. “You’re going to sic the bank guard on me? Old Walter?”

  The guard had to be in his late seventies, and she prayed to God the bank never actually needed security. If Walter ever drew that gun of his, he’d be bound to shoot off his own toes.

  “I don’t understand,” Gloria fumbled, her voice tinny through the sound system.

  “You don’t need to understand,” he bellowed. “Send Walter in here.”

  “Don’t bother, Gloria,” Jenni Beth said. “I was just on my way out.” She rounded on him again, eyes narrowed to slits. “Mr. Richard Too-Arrogant-for-Your-Own-Good Thorndike, you’re going to be really, really sorry you messed around with me and mine.”

  “Did you hear that, Gloria? Ms. Beaumont threatened me.”

  Beyond furious, Jenni Beth said, “No, sir, I did not. I made a promise.”

  Head high, she walked to the door and opened it. Turning back to Richard, she added, “And I always keep my promises. You can take that to the bank.”

  Once outside, she stumbled to her car on legs so rubbery they barely held her. Laying her head on the steering wheel, she felt sick to her stomach again. Talk about losing her temper! But, to be honest, she didn’t regret confronting him—and would do it again under the same circumstances. Still, random thoughts ricocheted inside her brain. At the forefront was the realization she could very well have destroyed her chance to make this venture work.

  But he’d already given her the loan. He couldn’t take it back, could he? And it seemed to her the rat was already doing everything in his power to make things difficult for her. What more could he do?

  An adrenaline headache burned behind her eyes.

  Time to go home and lick her wounds—after she dropped off a check for Moose.

  That done, she headed toward Magnolia House. A quarter mile out of town, still hot under the collar, she stopped at Tomato Annie’s roadside vegetable stand. It would give her a little more time to detox, and some fresh tomatoes and cucumbers would be nice tonight at dinner.

  “Hey, Annie.”

  “Hey yourself, girl. I heard you were in town. Doing some fixin’ up at your place, huh?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “True you gonna hold weddings at Magnolia House?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping.”

  “Good for you. ’Bout time somethin’ new was happenin’ in this town.”

  Jenni Beth filled a container with her veggies and fished money from her purse.

  “You seen Ms. Hattie lately?”

  “No. Darlene told me she’s having some problems,” Jenni Beth replied.

  “Money. All comes down to money. Her windows are all but fallin’ out of her house, and she ain’t got no money and no family but that nephew up in New York state to help her. Don’t think she’s honest with him about her situation. I buy some of my produce from her, bein’ local grown and all. Pay her a little more because she sure does need it.”

  “Thanks, Annie.” Jenni Beth picked up her bag of produce. “I’ll see if there’s anything I can do for her.”

  “That would be real good of you. I don’t think she’s eatin’ right, neither. Since her sister died, I’m not sure she cares. Those two never spent a day apart.”

  Jenni Beth recognized the expression that settled on Annie’s face. The realization she’d mentioned the loss of a sibling. She’d seen it so many times this past year. “I’m sorry, honey,” Annie said.

  “It’s okay.”

  “You tell your mama and daddy and Ms. Charlotte I said hello. Enjoy those ’maters, now.”

  “I will.” Jenni Beth drove away with a heavy heart. Ms. Hattie, in her time, had done for most of the population of the town in one way or the other. When she and her sister Dorothy ran their little country store, Jenni Beth was certain they’d provided lots of credit to families, monies that undoubtedly weren’t always repaid.

  Two people in one day worrying about her? Definitely time for a visit. She decided to stop by Beck’s again and talk to him.

  * * *

  “Is Beck here, Jeeters?”

  “Believe he’s back in his office, fiddlin’ with that computer.”

  “Okay, thanks.” She strolled through the store, noticing things that before last week would have bored her silly. Now she studied hinges and doors, wondering if any of them would work for her renovation. Would Cole have something more authentic at Traditions?

  Reaching Beck’s office, she knocked.

  “It’s open,” he barked.

  When she peeked around the doorjamb, he stood. “Hey, didn’t expect to see you today. You don’t look very happy. Problem at the house?”

  “No. Nothing at Magnolia House. Everything there is phenomenal.”

  “But?”

  “I had a fight with Richard.”

  “About?”

  She explained briefly her chat with Moose, her spat with the banker.

  “Jenni Beth, yo
u need to be careful around him.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m not sure you do.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Exactly that. Keep your wits about you when you deal with him.”

  She twisted the chain at her neck nervously. “That’s not the reason I stopped to see you, though.”

  “Oh?”

  “Ms. Hattie apparently needs new windows. I’ll take a ride out there, see for myself, but both Darlene and Tomato Annie mentioned that she’s got some real problems. It doesn’t seem any of her people are stepping up to help her.”

  Beck dropped into his chair and motioned for her to sit across from him. “What are you thinkin’?”

  “First of all, let me say that I know without your help and Cole’s, I wouldn’t have a prayer of fixing up Magnolia House or getting my business started. Maybe, even with your help, I’ll sink.”

  Beck shook his head. “Not gonna happen.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking.” She grinned. “I’m also thinking a little pay-it-forward is needed.”

  He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand. “Wait. Hear me out. I mentally reworked my budget between Annie’s and here. If I faux paint the ballroom for now instead of putting up wallpaper, skimped a little bit a few other places, I might be able to swing windows for her.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “How can I not?”

  “Windows are expensive, Jenni Beth.”

  “I know. But—” She bit her lip. “Could you measure them for me? Price them out? Then, well, we’ll see.”

  He rubbed his jaw. Said nothing.

  “Come on, Beck. Work with me.”

  He sighed. “Okay, call me crazy. I can get out there tomorrow. Give me a couple days to work it up, though.”

  “Thanks.” She leaned across the desk and kissed his cheek.

  “This is what you two call workin’?”

  Chapter 15

  Startled, Jenni Beth swiveled quickly, heard Beck chuckle. She faced a raised-brow Cole.

  Oh boy. Her temperature shot sky-high, and her tongue darted out to lick her lips. The man was gorgeous—and he had to know it. Crisp white shirt tucked into snug, well-worn jeans, the sleeves rolled up to show off tanned arms, hair slightly mussed as if he’d been running his fingers through it. The man looked good enough to eat.

  “You hungry?” he asked.

  Her hand flew to her mouth. Had she said that out loud? No. She peeked at the wall clock. One o’clock. Lunch time. A reasonable assumption.

  “Hey, anybody home?” Cole waved a nicked and scarred hand in front of her face. “You want to have lunch? I’m flat-out starvin’, and we should talk about a couple things.” He held up a file. “Figured we might as well make good use of our time. Eat and talk.”

  “Oh, sure. Business.” Pop. Her pretty little balloon deflated.

  “If it makes it easier to say yes, then, yeah, you could call it a business lunch.” He looked at Beck. “Want to join us?”

  His friend glanced from one to the other. “Nah. Think you two will do fine without me playin’ third thumb.”

  “It’s not like that,” she said quickly.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Still, think I’ll stay right here.”

  “You’ll follow up on those windows?”

  “Yep.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes, I do. Get her out of here, Cole, before she comes up with somethin’ else for me to do.”

  “I’m on that.” Hand at her back, Cole opened the door and herded her through the store and out into the heat.

  “Why are you in Misty Bottoms?”

  “Had a delivery for Dinky. I had some tile a customer of his needed, and shippin’ it would have cost a fortune.”

  “Oh.”

  On the other side of the road, a train clattered past, whistle blowing. The land stretched out in front of her, and for one second she felt torn between her two worlds. Longed for the air-conditioned coolness of Chateau Rouge, wished she could step into a Starbucks and grab an iced coffee.

  Cole took her hand, and she forgot Savannah existed.

  “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” he said, “but—”

  “What did you hear?”

  He drew back at the intensity of her reply, and she’d gladly have bitten the end off her tongue if she could take it back.

  “I heard you talkin’ about Ms. Hattie,” he said slowly. “Something else goin’ on I should know about?”

  “No.”

  Reaching for her hand, he turned her to face him. “That answer was way too fast, sugar. Let’s have it. If you told Beck, you can tell me.”

  She huffed out her breath.

  “I’m gonna find out sooner or later,” he coaxed. “Let’s make it sooner. What’s got you in a tizzy?”

  She stared at the railroad tracks. He waited. She studied a fingernail she’d broken that morning. Still, he waited.

  “C’mon. Out with it.”

  “Won’t you just go away?” she pleaded.

  “Not a chance.”

  “Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Keeping it short and not-so-sweet, right there in the middle of Beck’s dusty parking lot, she relayed her run-in with Richard. “He’s an ass.”

  “Yeah, he is.”

  “Is this why you told me to watch out for him?”

  He blinked, and she knew she wouldn’t get the whole answer.

  “Just so you know, Cole, I can read your tell.”

  “What are you talkin’ about?”

  “When you’re being evasive or getting ready to skirt an issue, you blink. You blinked when I asked about Richard.”

  “Blinking is an involuntary response, sugar. Didn’t Ms. Turner teach that to you girls in health class?”

  She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “And you blinked again.”

  “Oh, for the love of Mike. You know what? You ask me, you’re the expert at evasion. You’ve turned this whole conversation in on me when you’re the one with the tale to tell.”

  “I already told it.”

  “Fine. Maybe I should pay Thorndike anoth—a little visit.”

  “No.” She placed her hand on his arm, felt the coiled tension. “Absolutely not.” She shook her finger at him. “And that’s exactly the reaction I expected. The reason I didn’t want to tell you.”

  “Okay, then.” He continued toward his truck. “How about we stop at the store and pick up some lunch? Maybe get an extra sandwich. We’ll give Ms. Hattie a call to let her know we’re comin’ out to visit.”

  He’d given in way too easy, and it made her exceedingly nervous.

  Uneasy, she asked, “You’ll go with me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Why are you being so nice, Cole?”

  His eyes darkened. “I’ve always been nice.”

  She snorted.

  He shook his head sadly. “I’m so misjudged. Seriously, I like Ms. Hattie. She and her sister were always good to me. We can share lunch and let her know Beck will be comin’ out.”

  She stopped walking. “What if I raise her hopes but can’t make the budget work?”

  “Between the three of us, you, me, and Beck, we can do some finagling. Some trading maybe.”

  “I won’t take money from you, Cole. I draw the line at that. You, yourself, said right at the start of this that you were willing to offer…” She squinted, trying to remember his exact words. “I believe it was gallons of sweat equity and you’d toss your vast knowledge at my feet. But no money. You were crystal clear about that.”

  His jaw tightened. “And that still goes. What we’re talkin’ about here is a totally different kettle of fish. First of all, Ms. Beaumont, it’s not you I’m helpin’. This is Ms. Hattie’s
house needs fixin’, not yours. Second? I’m a big boy, and it seems to me this is my choice, not yours.”

  “Fine.” Her brows drew together fiercely, and her jaw set in a tight line.

  “Whew!” He drew back. “If that’s the look you wear when everything’s fine, I’d sure hate to be on the receivin’ end when it wasn’t. But then I have been, haven’t I?” He grimaced and tugged on her hand. “C’mon. Let’s take my truck. I’m not sure what condition Ms. Hattie’s road is in. That fancy sports car of yours might scrape bottom.”

  He opened the door and helped her in, an old-fashioned gesture she realized she enjoyed.

  They drove to Bi-Lo, the town’s only grocery store. “We can hit the deli,” he said. “Martha makes a mean Italian sub.”

  “I know.” She grinned. “I had one last week. And the store’s air-conditioned.” Exchanging conspiratorial grins, they glanced both ways before they hurried through the parking lot and into the store.

  In far too short a time, they stepped back into the heat, lunch in hand. Since they weren’t quite sure what Ms. Hattie liked, they’d bought a couple extra sandwiches, some fruit, and a side of mac and cheese. No self-respecting Southerner would turn down mac and cheese.

  “We have to be careful not to offend her,” Jenni Beth said.

  “I know that. I’m not a total country bumpkin.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “You implied it.” One arm tossed carelessly over the steering wheel, he drove easily. “My mama taught me manners, thank you very much.”

  She stared out the side window. “Excuse me for insulting your finer sensibilities.”

  “See?” His hand slapped the steering wheel. “There you go. You yak about me not having good manners. I’ve got a news flash for you, Ms. Beaumont. That sarcastic tongue of yours can cut a fellow off at the knees.”

  She blushed, instantly contrite. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know why, when I’m around you, I’m so—” She waved a hand in the air, searching for the right word.

  “Bitchy, Jenni Beth. The word is bitchy.”

  She gasped. “That’s not nice.”

  “No, don’t suppose it is.”

  “What would your mama think about that?”