I couldn’t believe I’d missed her. While I couldn’t exactly sit at the reception desk just waiting for her, someone should have told me.
“Why are you grinning? What did she bring?”
“She brought you a mascot. It’s in my office. She wanted to be here when you saw it, but she had to head to work.”
He was still grinning, which made me suspicious. Kent grinned more than a person should. He was all around too smiley. You can’t trust a person who smiles that much. It made me confident of one thing: whatever Page had left behind for me probably wasn’t a goldfish.
“Just tell me what it is.”
He grinned and shook his head. “Follow me.”
I followed him downstairs to the back hallway where his office was located. I needed to see about moving it upstairs. His office was too far away—it was getting annoying having to run downstairs or upstairs every time we needed to bring each other something.
I was a little terrified to find out what Page’s idea of a golf course mascot was. Hopefully not the same as my grandfather’s. I didn’t need another fatal attraction.
“Here, she left you a note.” Kent handed me an already opened envelope.
“You read my note?”
He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “All part of the job, making sure she’s not threatening to sue or something.”
I stopped walking. Kent had read my note. As the manager of the course, he was privy to everything, but knowing he read Page’s letter bothered me. “Next time, let me be the first to read her notes.”
His eyes narrowed briefly, then he smiled again. “She is a pretty thing, isn’t she?”
“You’ve been hanging around with my grandfather too much. There’s more to a woman than looks. When you wake up and realize it’s the twenty-first century, let me know.”
He ignored me, pulled out his keys, and unlocked his office door.
I eyed him as he pocketed the keys and stepped inside. “There it is. You’re now the proud owner of a one-legged chicken.”
Sure enough. A chicken sat on top of Kent’s desk. It was a fat red hen that bobbed its head back and forth.
“Hey, get down off there.” Kent tried to shoo it off of the desk, but the bird hopped on top of his keyboard and left a sticky present for him.
“Get off of there!” Kent cried out.
I wrinkled my nose as I watched Kent chase the chicken around the office. It might have had only one leg, but it was fast. Hopping from desk to chair to windowsill, it squawked as Kent reached for it. It hurried to his bookshelf and began hopping from shelf to shelf as though it were a ladder.
I leaned against the door frame as I watched Kent jump up and down, trying to reach for her. “If I’d known it would be this entertaining, I would have taken a video so I could enjoy it again later.”
What was I getting myself into with Page? Watching Kent chase the chicken around the office had been the highlight of my week—second only to meeting Page. I only wished she’d been there to see the chicken-chase in action.
“Shut up,” Kent grunted.
The chicken flew down from its perch and scurried to the corner where it hid under a chair. “You’re terrifying it, Kent.”
He rested his hands behind his head while he caught his breath. “It’s faster than it looks. Besides, a little terror might do it some good. Teach it not to crap on my keyboard.”
“You should start doing more cardio and fewer weights. That chicken’s giving you quite a workout.”
He muttered something back to me as I pulled Page’s note out of the envelope.
It was a legitimate handwritten note on thick paper with a sketch on the front of a golfer on the green—I wondered if she drew it.
Dear Noah,
I’m so incredibly sorry about killing your legendary mascot. I know you must be heartbroken. I’m sending you Edwina to keep you company, and hopefully, fill Lucifer’s void. Maybe she’ll become a new urban legend to help you gain more members. I’ll be back to make sure you’re getting along.
Page Boone
She left a note—and a chicken—for me. I needed to get her phone number. She’d underlined legendary, and I could read her sarcasm coming through the note.
I left Kent to deal with the chicken situation while I went back to work in my office. It was good for him to be stretched this way.
I pulled up the marketing plan that Kent and I had created together. When my grandpa was running the course, it had been the boys’ club. Men with money and time on their hands, getting together to talk about their money. I intended to change that. Our new plan was an all-inclusive plan. It even including targeting families. Alec Dunaway would be horrified to see a child golfing on the course. I happened to think it was an excellent way to foster a love of golf in future generations.
My grandfather expected me to fail as the owner of this course—I expected him to watch me succeed. He’d be hyperventilating when he saw the changes we planned to incorporate—he couldn’t stand children.
He would have a fit when he found out new members didn’t have to be in a certain income bracket. My grandfather liked money. He liked to spend it, smell it, and talk about it, but he was never very good at keeping it. He always talked investors into lending him money for a business that he would inevitably run into the ground. Then he would leave the mess behind to someone else and blame them for his failure.
Once I finished my phone calls, I slipped on my jacket and buttoned the front, remembering the way Page had helped me put it on the other day. Such a simple action shouldn’t linger that long in a man’s mind, but all I could think about was her slender hands helping me into my coat. Those nimble fingers buttoning it up, then her hand patting my chest and sending my heart into overdrive. It was a little embarrassing to admit to myself how often I’d relived that moment in my mind.
I walked down the back staircase and slipped through the side door into the lobby. I checked in at the front desk with Alisha and Mandy.
“How is everything going?” I asked.
“Slow today, but we have two new member applications,” Mandy answered.
“And there’s a guest here,” Alisha said as she waggled her eyebrows. “Maybe he’ll become a member too. He’s in the pro shop right now.”
Mandy looked a little starry-eyed too, so I could guess that this guest was young and good looking. Kids these days—getting obsessed with someone they just met—not unlike me.
“Make sure you guys take your breaks this morning. And let me know when you have your school schedules figured out.”
“I can work any time I’m not in class,” Alisha replied. “I’ll give you my class schedule.”
“What about homework?”
“People do homework?” She smiled.
I exaggerated my eye roll so she would see. “You can have however many hours you want here, but I expect you to make time for homework. You’re paying for college. Make it count.”
Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. “I’ll let you know.”
“Sounds good. I’ll go check in at the shop. Neither of you wants a chicken, do you?”
They both burst out laughing. “Page made us promise to not spoil the surprise by calling you. She’s fun.”
“She is at that. Kent’s still trying to catch that thing.”
“She brought it in a pet carrier. She wanted to say hi to you if you were close by,” Mandy explained. “We couldn’t find you, and she said she had to head to work.”
“Are you dating her?” Alisha asked.
“Not yet,” I smiled.
“I heard she turned Kent down flat,” Mandy told me.
“Hmm, interesting.” I tried to smile at that, but it troubled me that Kent had tried to ask her out—especially when I had made it clear I was interested in her. Although, it only made me like Page more, knowing that she’d turned him down. Smart woman.
“Yeah, I overheard him telling a couple of the caddies about it. Said they di
dn’t stand a chance since she admitted she’s waiting for you,” Mandy said with a laugh.
She liked me. She liked me. She was waiting for me. I didn’t think anyone could wipe the smile off my face for the rest of the day.
Shaking my head, I walked toward the pro shop. It was the one section of The Garden that didn’t need to be renovated. Grandfather had been meticulous about that part of the golf course.
When I stepped inside the pro shop, I immediately spotted the guest the girls had been talking about. He stood a head above the man and woman he was with, and a good six inches taller than the club pro—Robert, not Bob—who was helping them. Robert nodded when he noticed me. I waved him off to let him know he should continue working with the trio. I walked behind the sales desk and logged onto the computer to find out how many golfers were out on the green.
I overheard the woman say, “Well, I don’t know. Our good luck charm is gone now.”
“Mom, you’re a terrible golfer. No amount of luck will fix that.”
I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. I stole a discreet look over the computer monitor at the couple and son as they debated over which grip would be better for their golf clubs.
I did a double take when I realized it was the same couple that Page had been golfing with the other day.
They sorted through the handgrips Robert held out for them. I wondered how they knew Page. She hadn’t wanted to be golfing that day—that was obvious from the fact she’d been passing notes to my staff and napping on the green.
Curiosity got the better of me. I shut off the computer and slipped around the counter.
“Maybe I could help you pick the right grip. You don’t mind, Robert?”
Robert looked at me like he might cry with joy. He wasn’t the most patient person with beginners. He was obsessive about golf, and he was born with a club in his hand. But when people came into the shop with zero previous knowledge, he had to fight himself to keep from running away. He was so knowledgeable that I gave him a raise when I took over the course and promised to sponsor him in a couple of golf tournaments. With him being well-respected in the golf community, he was a great draw for new members. Besides, he loved giving lessons to the more talented golfers on the course.
“Oh, you’re the man that ran off with Page the other day!” The woman faced me with wide eyes.
I smiled stiffly. “Yes, I didn’t want her to have to be around that snake any longer, or to be harassed by some—shall we say—dedicated Lucifer fans.”
“Such a shame. Such a big snake snuffed out like that.” The older man snapped his fingers and shook his head sadly. “Yes, I can’t believe we forgot all about Page after you took her away. So many people were trying to talk to us that we forgot she rode with us. I’m afraid we left without her to avoid all the questions. Such a shame that snake was killed, though.”
I straightened a little at that—as if it were her fault that the giant had struck at her. “It wasn’t her fault. I should have had Lucifer moved a long time ago.”
The younger man muttered something under his breath that sounded like “Amen.”
I turned to him, and even though I was a solid six feet, I still had to look up. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Mack. Page is my cousin. These are my parents, Tricia and Mike.”
The relief that this guy was her cousin was nearly palatable. He wasn’t a boyfriend. He was a cousin. I’d never been so happy to meet someone’s family before.
I shook his large hand. “Noah Dunaway.”
“Thanks for looking out for Page. I saw the video—that was one heck of a swing for her, but she probably didn’t tell you she’s terrified of snakes.”
Tricia started to say something, but Mack cut her off. “Mom, why don’t you finish picking out the grip for your club? I’m going to talk to Noah for a minute.”
Mack’s easygoing manner put me at ease as his parents stepped back to choose their grip. I could practically see the steam rising out of Robert’s head.
Mack turned back to me. “Thanks for getting Page out of the crowd before she passed out. I saw it on that video that’s posted online.”
“What do you mean passed out?”
He shook his head. “She’s scared to death of snakes. She and another cousin, Kylie, got caught in a cottonmouth nest when they were young. Nearly died from the bites. They’ve both been terrified ever since—rightfully so. You don’t understand just how scary that would be for Page to face a snake that size. I’d imagine she’s still having nightmares.”
I rubbed a hand against my forehead. I couldn’t believe I’d been so insensitive. I thought it’d be fun to tease her about it; I thought it would distract her from the situation. I didn’t stop to consider that she was beyond scared; she had been terrorized. Add in a history of snake encounters, and she had a legitimate phobia. How many times could one person have a cottonmouth encounter?
“She didn’t tell me about that.”
“Yeah, she likes to pretend like it doesn’t bother her. That’s why I’m glad she reacted as fast as she did instead of freezing up.”
“Me too. I’ve had some club members asking about her—mad that she killed the snake.” I shook my head. I’d watched the whole thing through my binoculars as the caddy drove across the green. That snake had struck at her even though she’d been backing away slowly. I’d never been so glad someone had swung their club.
“People get protective of rare things. They probably didn’t think of the fact that it could easily kill her since she’s so sensitive to the venom now.”
“Isn’t everyone sensitive to venom?”
Mack shoved his hands in his jeans’ pockets. “Yeah, but the doctors told Page and Kylie that they were even more sensitive to future venomous bites because of how much exposure they’d had. You don’t build up immunity to it—you grow more sensitive to it.”
That was news to me. I’d heard of several people being bitten by cottonmouths or copperheads around here—more so in my high school years when kids were busy doing stupid stuff. It was part of living in the south, especially if you enjoyed outdoor activities. But I hadn’t ever heard of anyone getting more sensitive to it.
Mack continued talking, “And then there’s the fact that Page is allergic to antivenin.”
“Wait. What? What’s antivenin?” I rested a hand on the shelf next to me, careful not to knock down the case of golf balls.
“It’s antivenom—caused anaphylactic shock in Page. She almost didn’t make it the first time because of that. I was only a freshman in high school, but I still remember the doctor’s face when he came out to the waiting room and told us what happened.”
“Good grief.”
“Yup. Most people haven’t heard of that, but I guess it’s a fairly common reaction.”
“No wonder she looked so pale.”
“She’s a sensitive soul.” He sighed. “You’d think she’d be tougher.”
I growled. “Tougher? She’s been bitten by multiple snakes, been attacked by one this weekend, and you think she should be tougher?”
Mack grinned at my outburst. “I thought that might be the way it is. Wait until I tell Jenny.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about—and I was a little nervous to ask who Jenny might be. He was almost as hard to keep up with as Page.
“You like her.”
I shrugged, trying to downplay it. He smirked at me, and I nodded. “Fine, yes, I like her. She’s a nice girl.”
Mack snorted. “Page is not a ‘nice’ girl. She’s a unique girl, and you’d better remember that if you want to stand a chance with her. You call her nice, and you might get a golf club to your head. She hates being called nice. She thinks it’s boring.”
I smiled, “Noted. So how do I find her? She left me a note and a chicken this morning.”
Mack chuckled, “She would. She works at an art gallery in town. She’s working there tonight.”
“Thanks.”
Mack shrugged
. “You might not be thanking me when this is all over.”
I nodded. I might have a clue what he’s talking about. Page had already swept into my life and stirred things up. Keeping her in my life would only shake things up even more.
I was okay with that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
PAGE
Carlotta’s, the small art gallery where I worked four nights a week, was located on the outskirts of the French quarter. We had steady walk-in traffic but very few buyers. The owner, Lottie, kept it open more as a hobby rather than a business. I didn’t even know how much money she sank into it every month, but that wasn’t any of my business. She paid me regularly, and I showed up regularly — a good deal for me.
She paid cash too. Rumor had it that she moved a lot of paintings through the black market. I wouldn’t be surprised. There was the small locked room in the back of the gallery that she spent a lot of time in. I’d never seen the inside. She claimed it was a regular old cleaning closet.
That had three locks on it.
And alarmed access.
I was paranoid about my cleaning supplies, too, except I only kept them in a cupboard below my sink.
Glancing at my phone, I realized it was almost nine. Since it was close to closing time, I hurried to finish arranging the minute-paintings on the wall. It was a fun display of local talent. I loved the exhibit. The paintings gave a glimpse into local life, and only local artists were featured. Lottie had started the minute painting contest a year ago. Every season she would hold another minute painting contest. Artists had exactly one minute to paint something that exhibited local life or the season we were entering.
Whereas it took me about at least a month to complete a painting, these artists could paint fairly complex scenes with only sixty seconds. We awarded the top five contestants an exhibit of their own for six months. I loved that Lottie showcased others’ work in such a competitive venue as the art world.
I didn’t think Lottie would be too upset if I locked the front door a little early and instead focused on setting up the last of the displays. We had to prep for our wine and art night. If I closed early, I could set everything up ahead of time.
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