by Marina Adair
“It’s our part,” Hattie said. “Figured with all the painting and decorating, you could use some help setting up for tonight. So the ladies and I decided we’d be that help.”
“In your robes?”
“No.” Hattie glanced at the choir, who all gave her an encouraging nod, “Brett called right in the middle of “Holy, Holy, Holy.” Just hearing his name made her heart sink to her toes. “Reminded me that it would be right neighborly for us to offer up our culinary prowess for this weekend, seeing as you’re doing all of this for the hospital.”
Josephina put her hands on her hips. “Did you just say culinary and prowess in the same sentence?”
“Now, people who live in fancy houses shouldn’t go slinging cow chips, child. It turns everything to shit.” Hattie’s smile went full-blown. “And it’s triple-blue-ribbon prowess.”
“And?” Jelly-Lou rolled forward, gently nudging Hattie from behind.
“And it took best in show at the Sugar County Fair in ’67,” Hattie said, holding up her cake, while glaring at Jelly-Lou.
“It was runner-up to my pineapple surprise cake in ’67, and you know it,” Etta Jayne clarified. “But I think Jelly-Lou was referring to us.”
One by one, each of the four ladies who had made Josephina’s life hell stepped forward. They all exchanged a sad look, but it was Hattie who spoke. “And we’re sorry. Sorry about the feud, about stealing your car, and cutting your power, and dognapping Boo. And about putting those toads in your bathtub.”
“And the chandelier,” Jelly-Lou added, Josephina’s heart aching at the reminder. Brett had been unable to find a place that had the right kind of glass to fix it. “We’re real sorry about that. We know how much it meant to you.”
“Don’t forget to apologize for telling everyone that her peaches are enhanced,” Etta Jayne said.
Thirty sets of critical eyes dropped to Josephina’s chest, even Rooster’s, who appeared from the side of the house. Dottie pulled out the binoculars.
Josephina cupped her breasts, showing them the natural jiggle. “One hundred percent real.”
“So Brett said,” Jelly-Lou informed everyone.
With a resigned look, Hattie held Josephina’s hand and led her to the swing. Still clutching tightly, the older woman took a fortifying breath and her posture crumpled—right along with Josephina’s heart.
“Go on, Hattie,” Jelly-Lou encouraged.
“Yeah.” Dottie rested a hand on Hattie’s shoulder. “The girl deserves to know.”
The last time Josephina had heard those words her world had literally cracked in two.
“Please,” she whispered. “I can’t take anymore. When I got here the place was a disaster, a guy that I was sleeping with gave me money, then lied to me, you all hate me, and there was a single mother opossum in the ceiling with her babies and I was too much of a city girl to kill them so I relocated them.”
“But you stuck it out. You dug your heels in, broken heart and all, and made it happen,” Hattie said quietly, taking in the changes to Fairchild House—the remodeled servants’ quarters, the rose garden—and gave a watery smile. “Letty would have been so proud.”
“Yeah?”
“More than proud, dear,” Jelly-Lou said, rolling up the ramp. “We all are. You are Letty’s girl inside and out.”
Hattie took both of Josephina’s hands in her own meaty ones, her voice serious. “Lord knows, after how I treated you, I have no right asking for favors, but seeing as this is Sugar and we’re neighbors, I’m asking. I made such a mess of things and I need your help to fix it. I love that boy more than anything and I chased him off.”
“He’ll cool down,” Josephina said, trying to soothe the older woman and knowing it was true. She knew firsthand that when it came to his family and this town, Brett was loyal to a fault.
Hattie shook her head. “He phoned about twenty minutes ago from the road. He packed up his truck this afternoon and is headed back out on the circuit.”
“But the Pucker Up and Drive is tomorrow.”
Hattie nodded, a small sniffle escaping.
“He loves this town and he’s worked so hard on this fundraiser. Why would he leave?”
“For you,” Jelly-Lou said.
“For me? Why?” she asked, but she already knew the answer, and it hurt her heart.
If she had understood at the time that staying here meant forcing him out, she would have left. He belonged there tomorrow. Her heart whispered that she belonged there, too. That she belonged there with him.
“He didn’t want to ruin your moment.” There was no blame in her voice, just a deep sadness. “I’ve never seen that boy as happy as when he was with you. And I’m sorry I didn’t see it for what it was until it was too late.”
“Too late for what?” Josephina whispered. All of the blood rushed to her head, pounding and making it hard to hear. A lump grew in her throat, expanding until talking became painful.
“Cal and his crew are building Brett a house on the back side of our property.”
“By his parents’ house?” She tried to swallow but couldn’t. “Why would he build a house?”
That seemed like a lot of commitment for a guy who considered the world his stomping ground.
“Before he left, he was thinking of retiring after this year,” Hattie admitted. “Told Cal that he wanted a place he could come home to. Raise himself some hogs and maybe start a family with a stubborn Yankee.”
“Hogs and a family?” Stubborn Yankee? Josephina was breathing too hard, the words all spiraling around in her mind too fast; she was afraid she’d misunderstood. Because suddenly everything and nothing made sense.
Josephina hopped up. “Rooster, hold that ladder!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Josephina grabbed the binoculars from around Dottie’s neck and slung them around her own. She crawled up to the top of the ladder and straddled the top. Lifting the rubber eye cups to her face, she scanned the landscape. Finding the big oak tree, she moved the lenses to the right and her breath caught.
A concrete foundation lay on the west side of the property to the left of a gigantic oak and butted up to the bank of the lake—right where she’d told Brett she’d place a floor-to-ceiling window. Next to where she’d imagined the kitchen door was a fenced-off bed. Enclosed in rod iron, the soil had been tilled and it was the perfect size for a small chef’s garden. Farther off, near the old structure, was the beginnings of what appeared to be a barn and a roped-off area that she could only assume was for a pen.
That was all Josephina could make out before her vision went blurry with tears.
“But he lied to me,” she yelled down.
“He loves you, dear,” Jelly-Lou hollered back. “Not that that makes his lying all right, but love makes people do stupid things. Why else would a man give up his home, his family, his friends? He gave you that loan for the same reason he left everything behind, so that you could have your fresh start.”
“He wanted you to be happy here,” Hattie added.
Josephina felt everything inside shift. The anger, the hurt, the heartache, it all faded, leaving only one realization.
“But I’m not. Happy, I mean.” Not without him.
Taking the ladder three rungs at a time, she raced down and, pulling together a mental plan, she fished her cell from her back pocket and thrust it at Hattie. “I’m trusting you with my most precious asset. My black book.”
“Should we tell her it’s just a phone,” Dottie whispered.
“In the contact section you will find the name and number of every person you will need to pull off this event. And the calendar lists every event that takes place over the next seventy-two hours, who has volunteered, and who’s bringing what. I’m expecting to raise enough to build Charlotte that pediatric ward.”
Jelly-Lou took the phone. “We’ve got this covered.”
Josephina hugged each grannie and then turned to Hattie one last time. “I’m going to go get y
our grandson and bring him home.”
“I expected you might.”
“And we’re going to be living in sin for a while,” Josephina clarified. She wasn’t sure if Brett was ready for forever, but she would take him twenty-four hours at a time until she could get him to consider twenty-five without breaking out in a sweat.
Hattie raised up on her toes and took Josephina’s face in her hands, looking her square in the eye. “Brett was right, mud bath or not, you’re good people, Joie.”
“The mud bath’s staying.”
“So is poker night,” Hattie announced, and with a smack to Joie’s tush added, “You better get going if you hope to catch him. He’s flying out of Atlanta in two hours.”
With a hug, Josephina headed inside the house. Grabbing the keys off Kenny’s head and the pair of red spiky do-me pumps, Josephina started for Ulysses. She was halfway to the car when Rooster, looking a little overwhelmed by all of the estrogen in the air, hollered. “Hey, aren’t we going to finish the gate for your pen?”
“You got hogs?” Hattie asked.
“No hogs. But I did order a goat, a llama, and a couple of geese,” Josephina said, smiling. “And, Rooster, you’ll have to finish it on your own. I’m about to go balls-to-the-wall.”
* * *
It was official. Brett was an idiot. A little over twenty miles outside of Sugar and he already regretted leaving. Regretted the way he’d handled things, regretted sneaking out before the event, regretted not finishing the inn. Mostly he regretted leaving Joie.
Actually, the farther he got from Sugar, they harder it was to breathe. Which was why, when he drove by Bubba’s Boar House, advertising fresh farm-raised bacon, he pulled over and had a man-to-man talk—with himself.
So when he headed back toward Sugar, turned onto the Brett McGraw Highway, and saw Ulysses stalled on the side of the road, hood up, Brett had to smile.
What he saw next had his heart clenching. Sticking out from under that hood was a world-class ass and the sexiest pair of legs Brett had ever seen. Long and lean and bare from the thigh down, the only thing on them was a pair of red pointy pumps.
Brett pulled alongside the car, and even before he rolled down the window he could hear Joie cussing.
Letting his truck idle, Brett leaned out the window. “There a problem, ma’am?”
He heard her gasp, then she slowly turned around to face him—and man, was she beautiful. Her hair was in braids, she had car grease just about everywhere, and cheesy pretzel crumbs covering the front of her shirt. The only thing city about this girl was her shoes.
God, he loved her shoes.
With jumper cables hanging limp in her hand, she nodded. “I seem to have lost a part back on the highway and now it won’t work.”
Brett slid out of the truck and shut the door. He closed the distance until he stood right in front of her. “I know the feeling.”
“You do?” she asked, her eyes assessing him in a way that made him want to be the man that she needed, the one she deserved.
“Yeah.”
“What did you lose?”
“Everything.” The minute he said the word, he knew it was true. She was everything to him. He loved golf, his town, his family, but the one thing he couldn’t live without was the woman standing in front of him. The woman who, if she gave him a chance, he’d spend the rest of his life making happy.
“Aw, shit,” Brett barked, tugging off his Stetson and pacing to his truck, only to slap his hat against his thigh on the return trip. “Aw, shit! I did it again.” His boots kicked up dust as he walked his line, back and forth. “I came back here to tell you that I screwed up. Screwed up the best thing that has ever happened to me and I’m not even done apologizing and I already messed everything up.”
Those heels, the red ones with the pointy toes, tapped on the asphalt.
“God damnit, Joie, here’s the thing,” he said, gripping his hat and spinning around. “I’m in love with you. And I bought you a fucking pig.”
Now it was her turn to stop. Her eyes filled with tears and her hand trembled slightly as she clutched her chest. “You bought me a pig?”
“I know, a real man would have brought a ring, but when I saw Bubba’s Boar House and found out he had a new litter of piglets…”
As if on cue, a shrill squeal erupted from inside the cab.
“You bought me a pig!” Before he could respond, Joie flung herself into his arms. She was halfway up his body, her legs circling his waist, by the time his hands came around her.
And right there, on the Brett McGraw Highway, with a pig in the cab and cheesy pretzels sticking to his shirt, he kissed Joie. And when she kissed him back, Brett knew he was one lucky son of a bitch.
By the time they eased apart, Joie was sitting on the hood of his truck, wearing his hat, and they were both breathing heavy. But at least he was breathing, which beat the hell out of what he’d been doing this past week.
“I love you so much, Joie. When I’m with you I want to be the kind of man my dad was.”
“Funny, when I’m with you I just want to be me. And that’s never happened before,” she whispered. “That’s why I had to find you.”
Brett felt his heart stumble. “You came to find me?”
She burst out laughing. “Why else do you think I’d be in the middle of the highway in heels and shorts?”
“I don’t know, because I am one lucky SOB.” He looked down at her shoes, resting on the grill of his truck. “And if you bring up those shoes one more time we will have to continue this conversation in the bed of my truck.”
“I was going to Atlanta to catch you before you got on your plane. To tell you that if you wanted me to, I’d come with you to the tournament,” she said, flashing those baby blues at him from beneath her lashes—and God almighty he loved this woman.
“You hate golf.”
“But I love you.” She kissed him long and slow. In response he pulled her flush against him, and melted into her, showing her in that one kiss everything that she meant to him and in return promising her every one of his twenty-four hours.
The piglet let out another squeal and Brett groaned. “So, can we not tell anybody that I proposed with a pig?”
“As long as you help me get out of these heels.”
Epilogue
Well, isn’t that a man for you,” Charlotte said, taking in Brett at the top of a very tall ladder.
“That he is. All man.” And all mine, Josephina thought as Brett held the new nameplate, while Cal secured it into place. The way Brett’s worn jeans pulled when he leaned forward did the most delicious things to his backside. The copper sign, which he had placed a twenty-four-hour rush on and which now hung next to Fairchild House’s historical plate, did some serious melting of her heart.
FAIRCHILD HOUSE FOR THE ADVENTUROUS
PROVIDING TEMPORARY HOUSING AND PERMANENT SUPPORT
FOR CHILDREN DEALING WITH LIFE-THREATENING ILLNESS
AND THEIR FAMILIES.
When Josephina had finally stopped worrying about proving herself a success and started thinking like the women who came before her, she realized that Fairchild House was not only an ideal getaway for city slickers, it was the perfect place for families to stay when they needed a lot of hope and a little fairy dust.
Fairchild House was part hearth and part magic, and who better to appreciate that than the children who would come from all over the state to find treatment at Sugar Medical Center’s new pediatric ward? Which was why she had converted all of the servants’ quarters into family-friendly apartments and added kid-friendly cooking courses to her lineup.
“I still can’t believe we can start construction on the new wing,” Charlotte whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I really didn’t think we’d manage to raise all the money. And if it hadn’t been for you I don’t think we would have.”
“Your wing,” Josephina corrected. “And I just meshed everyone’s ideas together.”
“Well, my daddy, bless his heart, still hasn’t made an official announcement of who will be heading it,” Charlotte said with perfect southern decorum.
Brett dusted off his hands and slipped them around Josephina’s waist. “You may have meshed everyone’s ideas, but this weekend was all class and heart. It was a Josephina Harrington event, no question.”
Josephina smiled as she leaned back against him and looked out over the porch at the crowded yard.
The event was, by far, the pinnacle of Josephina’s event-planning career. Fairchild’s grounds looked beautiful. The dock twinkled with lights, every pecan and oak tree on the property had candlelit Mason jars hanging from it, and in the middle of it all was a picnic area. She’d even had her first city dwellers check in as paying guests—her parents, Rosalie, and three couples she knew in New York, including a travel writer, a hedge fund chair with a soft spot for pediatrics, and a couple looking for the perfect destination wedding.
Cal and his crew had worked around the clock to make sure the inn was ready for guests and, as a surprise, built a dance floor with a stage for the band, which had kicked into high gear as soon as the sun went down. And, as the mayor was about to announce, they had made enough money to fund the new wing and to purchase two much-needed hyperbaric chambers.
As if that weren’t enough, Brett had found a man in Savannah who specialized in antique glass. By using the leaded glass from the old broken-out windows in the servants’ quarters, he had managed to patch the chandelier to where it looked better than new. Better because Brett had insisted that one of the stems be left broken.
The way the light caught the jagged glass made it look magical, he’d whispered last night while making love to her and showing her just how magical it could be.
Francesca Harrington stared past all the décor to the pen located at the side of the house and gasped. “Is that a pig pen?”
