Southern Comforts

by Nan Dixon

  Cheryl still had some pride left. She’d resign. Tonight.

  “Where’s Uncle Levi?” Josh asked, his voice too quiet, too filled with fear.

  “He’s not here.” She set her son down and knelt next to him. “The police took him away.”

  Marion set a warm hand on Cheryl’s back. “Come, have some supper.”

  Marion called back to the sitting area where Abby stood in front of Gray. “Let’s eat, you two.”

  Heat filled Cheryl’s face. She couldn’t face her saviors. “We should go home.”

  Oh, Lord, what if Mr. Smythe wanted them to move? What if he didn’t want any trouble in his building? She clutched her churning stomach.

  Abby gently touched Cheryl’s arm. “How are you doing?”

  “Ashamed.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry I caused trouble.”

  Abby’s eyes flashed. “Don’t you dare feel guilty about what happened.”

  “This wasn’t your fault.” Gray came up behind Abby. “I saw him waiting near the condos. I talked to him. He followed Josh and me.”

  Gray set his arm around Abby’s waist but she slipped away from him.

  “Josh, why don’t you sit here?” Abby helped Cheryl’s son into a booster seat.

  “Mommy, sit next to me.”

  “I will, sweetie.”

  Josh grabbed her hand. His lower lip trembled. “I don’t want to go with Uncle Levi.”

  “And you’ll never have to.” Cheryl forced her voice to be strong and steady for him. Josh had regressed to where they’d been months ago, afraid to let her out of his sight. “I’ll never let him near you again.”

  Abby crouched on the other side of Josh’s chair. “I’ll protect both you and your mamma.”

  “No one’s getting through me, young man.” Marion touched his hand.

  “You’ve got your friends at Fitzgerald House taking care of both of you,” Gray said. “And I’m here to help, too.”

  Cheryl covered her mouth, choking back a sob.

  “None of that.” Marion handed her a full bowl of soup. “You’ll feel better with my chicken-noodle soup in your belly.”

  “Thank you.” She looked around at the people surrounding her and her son. “Thank you all. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t helped us.”

  Marion served soup and cut the bread.

  “Tell us more about your camp,” Gray asked Josh.

  And Josh was off and running, telling everyone about swimming and watching birds. “We cooked hot dogs for lunch. On a stick and everything.”

  Abby winced.

  Gray nudged her with his shoulder. “Kids love hot dogs.”

  “But they’re so...”

  “Delicious!” Josh finished.

  Everyone laughed. Cheryl hadn’t thought she’d ever laugh again. But they laughed and talked through the rest of the meal.

  As they cleared the dishes, Josh moved to the sitting area to watch television.

  She had to apologize.

  Cheryl stepped in front of Gray and Abby. “Thank you both for stopping Levi. If I can ever do anything for you, please, ask.”

  “No need for that,” Gray said. “Friends help each other.”

  She’d hoped to do this alone, but Mr. Smythe wasn’t leaving. She had to get this out.

  “Miss Abby.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll be giving my two weeks’ notice.”

  Abby frowned. “Why?”

  Cheryl glanced over at Josh. “Because I...I brought trouble to your home, your business.”

  “No. No way.” Abby’s green eyes flashed. “Levi brought the trouble, not you. Don’t you abandon me.”

  “But I showed poor judgment when I let Levi take money from me. Money I could have used to take care of my son. You don’t want someone like that working for you.”

  “You did what you needed to.” Softly, Gray asked, “He hurt Josh?”

  She nodded.

  “Then the money wasn’t worth it,” Gray said.

  Abby was nodding with him. “You showed great judgment in taking your son out of that situation and finding him a safe place to live. Money isn’t everything.”

  “Sometimes you need to trust that people are doing things to help you.” Gray stared at Abby.

  Cheryl looked between them, confused. She didn’t think they were talking about her problems anymore.

  Gray and Abby looked at each other and then anywhere but each other.

  “But...” Cheryl started to say. She didn’t deserve to work here.

  “There are no buts.” Abby put her arm around Cheryl’s shoulders. “I refuse your notice.”

  “You both...” She couldn’t get the words out. “Thank you.”

  “Enough. Friends help each other out.” Gray shook his head. “I’m going to check with the police for an update.”

  “Thanks...” Cheryl started, but Gray shushed her and headed out the door, scrolling through his phone.

  She turned to Abby. “He’s been so good to Josh and me.”

  Abby nodded, loading the dishwasher.

  “He’s a nice person, and he cares about you two.” Abby gave Cheryl a small hug. “I’ll finish up here. You and Josh go relax.”

  Friends. She had friends who were looking out for her.

  She hugged Josh to her chest as she carried him upstairs. They had friends. They belonged. Hope bubbled up inside her like the garden fountain, sparkling and happy.

  “We’re going to be okay.”

  * * *

  ABBY TURNED TO MARION. “You should get home.”

  Marion checked the kitchen and then hung up her towel. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Abby flipped on the radio and hummed as she wiped down the table.

  “They’re holding Levi for the night,” Gray said as he pushed through the door. “He’ll be arraigned tomorrow.”

  “I’ll let Cheryl know.”

  “I caught her in the hall.”

  “Oh, good.” She moved over to scrub the counter, even though it was already clean. “Good night, then.”

  Abby didn’t want to be alone with Gray. She was too exhausted to fight with him.

  She couldn’t reconcile the man who’d fought for Josh and Cheryl with the businessman who could make heartbreaking decisions. Gray had told Cheryl money wasn’t everything. But every big gesture he made involved money. She rubbed her head. Except saving Cheryl and Josh.

  “Your head still hurts.” Footsteps sounded behind her. She inhaled and caught Gray’s cologne. If she turned, she’d be in his arms.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “We need to talk.” He was so close that even without touching her, his heat suffused her body.

  “There’s nothing more to say.”

  “Why can’t you understand I was trying to help you? Can’t you trust me?”

  “This isn’t about trust.” She spun around, pushing him back a step so she could breathe. “This is about you taking over my business.”

  “I was trying to help.” His lips tightened. “But you won’t take help from anyone, not even Marion. Cheryl is willing to take help, but not you.”

  “How does your making an offer on Carleton House help me?” She clenched her hands into fists.

  “You were never going to get the financing. When I talked to Lennertz—”

  “Wait.” She threw her hands up. “When did you talk to our loan officer?”

  His face went blank.

  “When?” she whispered, knowing she wouldn’t like the answer.

  “After Dolley blew up at him.” Gray reached for her.

  She jerked away from his touch. Away from his piney scent that made her want
to wrap her arms around him. That wouldn’t solve their problem. “You’ve been planning this since—March?”

  “No, I—”

  “You saw an opportunity and grabbed it.” Abby pointed a finger at him. “Your sister said you were ruthless, and I defended you. I’m a fool.”

  “That’s not true.” He pounded on the counter. “You can’t achieve your goals without cash. I’m trying to help by investing in your dreams.”

  All the air left her lungs. “We don’t have investors in Fitzgerald House.”

  He tried to take her hands, but she shook him away. “I just want to help.”

  “This is a family business. If we can’t make it on our own, we deserve to fold.” Her voice cracked. “We deserve to lose Fitzgerald House.”

  She headed for the door to the backyard. She had her hand on the knob, but turned. Gray still stood in the middle of the kitchen.

  “You told me money has always been your burden.” She shook her head. “Look at what you’re doing—buying your way through life. Maybe people only see your wealth because that’s all you’re willing to share. Maybe you hide behind your money.”

  She stepped out into the heat and let the door close between them.

  * * *

  ABBY WAS WRONG.

  Gray took another sip of his cognac and stared at her apartment from where he sat on his balcony. She was wrong. He stacked his feet on the chair across from him. He didn’t hide behind his money. What was so bad about helping Abby and her sisters?

  So maybe talking about investors had drained the color from her face. He didn’t want to take an ownership position in Fitzgerald House. He wanted...he wanted Abby to love him.

  Lightning flashed. A storm was coming.

  Abby’s bedroom curtain shifted.

  How could she kiss him like she had earlier and still not understand that he was doing what he could to help her out? How else could he show her he cared? Buy all the houses on the square and give them to her?

  He took another sip of his drink. Let the fire burn its way to his stomach.

  Then he stewed and waited for the storm.

  * * *

  GRAY RAN A hand along the varnish on the floor of the model suite in the warehouse. The finish was as smooth as Abby’s skin—not that he’d been able to touch her since he’d returned from Boston. “With all the humidity, I worried nothing would dry.”

  “Last week’s storm and cold front helped.” Daniel made a note on his clipboard. “We got a good start on Friday and then finished on the weekend.”

  “Your idea of a cold front and mine are miles apart.”

  Had the storm only been four days ago? It was Monday, and Gray had barely said hello to Abby since their latest argument.

  She hadn’t kicked him out of Fitzgerald House. He was still eating dinner in the kitchen. But they were never alone together. Friday they’d eaten with Marion, Cheryl and Josh, Saturday with Dolley. Her glares had burned holes in his skin. And Sunday Bess had joined them. Bess hadn’t glared, she’d just seemed puzzled.

  He hadn’t had a chance to talk privately with Abby. To tell her she was wrong. He wasn’t buying his way through life.

  “The model looks great. And a week early.” He pulled his focus back to the condos.

  “I should have held out for a bigger completion bonus,” Daniel joked.

  “I probably would have agreed.”

  “Cheryl’s been up here cleaning.” Daniel made a note on his clipboard. The two men moved through the suite in tandem.

  “It’s great to have her back on-site.” She’d insisted on heading back on Saturday.

  “It is.” Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Heard there was some excitement at Fitzgerald House the day you got back from Boston.”

  “Cheryl’s scumbag brother-in-law was waiting here when the school bus dropped Josh off.” Gray paused in front of the windows facing the river. To his left he could see the Talmadge Memorial Bridge traffic and to his right, the tourist riverboats. “Thank goodness I was there to pick him up and not Cheryl.”

  “Heard this guy was a big one. I’m surprised you were able to take him down.”

  “The guy is mostly fat, but he got in a few good hits.” Gray rubbed the bruise on his arm. It still ached. “Can someone touch up the windowsill enamel and fix the closet door that isn’t plumb?”

  “Already on the punch list,” Daniel said. “Why don’t we wait until the furniture arrives and then repaint, just in case they bang up the walls?”

  “Good idea,” Gray said. “I’ll let the decorator know she can schedule the furniture load-in.”

  Once they had furniture, the realty company would open up shop. They’d posted a sign outside the warehouse a month ago and already had a list of interested parties.

  “So what’s happening with this guy?” Daniel asked.

  “He’s still in jail. The scumbag couldn’t make bail,” Gray said.

  “How long could he get?”

  “If they can make a kidnapping charge stick, life imprisonment. But if they only charge him with stealing Cheryl’s checks, it’s one to ten years.” Gray opened a kitchen cabinet. Cheryl must have cleaned in here, too.

  Daniel nodded. “Let me know if he ever makes bail and my crew and I will keep our eyes open.”

  “Will do. I haven’t seen your dad around Fitzgerald House since I got back,” Gray said, leading Daniel out of the suite now that the inspection was complete. “How did you get all this info?”

  “I’m not revealing my sources.” Daniel held the door open for him and they stepped into the interior hall.

  “How come there isn’t any work happening on the third floor of the B and B?”

  “We picked up a couple more jobs. Abby knows we have to fit her in between other jobs. That’s the only way we can bid so low.”

  That wouldn’t help Abby meet her goals. “I noticed Abby’s costs were a lot lower than mine. I might expect a lower bid next time.”

  Daniel shook his head. “Not going to happen. What’s your next project?”

  Apparently Daniel’s spy hadn’t told him about the offer on Carleton House. “Don’t have one.”

  Daniel patted his stomach. “I’m starving. Lunch?”

  “Not today. I need to take care of something back at Fitzgerald House.”

  Gray didn’t hide behind his money. Abby wanted actions rather than words? He knew just how to prove her wrong.

  * * *

  CHERYL STUFFED THE trash into the bag. One last room to clean on the second floor and then she’d move to the library. There were so many wonderful books there. Abby had said she could borrow any she wanted. She’d already read the entire Tolkien collection. She thought she might tackle Jane Austen next. But there were also culinary books. Maybe she should borrow one of those.

  “Just the person I was looking for.” Gray filled the doorway.

  She jumped, but not as much as she used to. “Hi, Gray.”

  “You promised you would help if there was anything I needed.” Gray smiled and took a step closer to her.

  No. He wasn’t Levi. She forced herself to stay where she was. “What...what do you want?”

  His smile disappeared. He shook his head. “I’m not Levi. I won’t hurt you.”

  She swallowed. She must not have hidden her nerves as well as she’d hoped. “I know.”

  His mouth curled up a little at the corners, but it wasn’t a real smile.

  “I’m sorry.” She rubbed her hands on her face. “You’ve only been kind to me. You don’t deserve this. I don’t know why you put up with me reacting this way.”

  “Because I want to help you.” He waved a hand. “You’re diligent and work hard. I appreciate that. And if I can help you and Josh...”

 
“Thank you.” She relaxed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone do something nice without wanting something from me.”

  “I know what you mean.” Now his smile was bigger. “I don’t expect anything from you. But if you have trouble, I’m your friend. Let me know what I can do to help—as a friend.”

  “A friend.” She tried out the word. Brad had been her last true friend.

  “I would like your help,” Gray said.

  “What can I do?” She smiled.

  “There’s a door to the third floor by my room. It’s locked.”

  She nodded.

  “I’d like a key.”

  “It’s supposed to stay locked.” She rubbed her hands together. “They’re working up there.”

  “Forester had to pull his team off.” He rubbed his neck. “I’d like to work on the third floor without Abby knowing.”

  “A surprise?”

  He nodded. “I promise you won’t get in trouble.”

  Cheryl hesitated. He’d done so much for her and Josh, given her hope when her life had been so bleak. Now he was going to help Miss Abby.

  She made her decision and sorted through the keys on her ring. “Sure.”

  * * *

  GRAY CHANGED INTO a T-shirt and jeans. Grabbing his tool belt, he made sure the hall was empty before he slipped the key in the lock and headed up to the third floor.

  He scouted the work Samuel had already completed. Signs written in Abby’s bold print hung by each room. The work had started on the least-damaged room, the Lady Bird Johnson room. The holes in the plaster had been repaired, although the plaster medallions in the ceiling still needed replacing. Sheetrock needed to be hung on the new bathroom walls. The floor needed to be sanded and prepped for varnish, though Abby might catch wind if he brought up a sander.

  The electrical and plumbing subs had been through the rooms, every room except the one with the most water damage, the Mary Todd Lincoln room. He leaned against a wall. If he brought tools in at night, she might not catch on.

  Samuel’s team had left a few things behind. Gray set a shovel and crowbar in a battered wheelbarrow and headed to the Lincoln room. He’d seen the plans. Everything should be demolished.

  Smashing walls was mindless, satisfying work. He chose his first enemy—the wall with the least plaster remaining. He took a swing, and the thwack filled the room. Another and another until the plaster finally crumbled. Scooping up the debris, he tossed it into the wheelbarrow with a deep thud. He whacked and scooped. Twenty minutes later, he’d cleared the wall and filled the wheelbarrow. He was breathing a little hard and wishing he’d brought up a jug of water.