by Webb, Peggy
“I take it last year’s bonus was not substantial enough.”
“I plan to add a little for the hardship of living in the wilderness.”
“You might surprise yourself and come to enjoy it.”
Hines studied him before answering. “You might, too, sir... and wouldn’t that be nice.”
It would be a miracle. Ben couldn’t remember enjoying life in a long time. Had he ever? The things he remembered most about his childhood were hiding under the covers with his ears covered so he wouldn’t hear his parents screaming at each other, and being shuffled from one expensive summer camp to the next.
In college he’d been too busy achieving to have time for friends. In Washington he had an active social life, but only to the extent that it furthered his ambition.
“Enjoying life has never been on my list of priorities,” he said, and if there was a wistful note in his voice, Hines wisely ignored it.
Ben helped himself to the grape jelly. Outside the kitchen window the sun laid a sparkling path across the Gulf. It was the kind of day most folks used to lift their spirits. For Ben it was the perfect kind of day to pick out all the flaws on his house so that he could plan how to fix them.
“I thought I would finish the unpacking today, sir, if there’s nothing else you want me to do.”
“That’s fine.”
The sun glinted off the wing of a bluebird, and Ben had a sudden vision of a pair of impossibly blue eyes and a rakish halo set atop a riot of red curls.
“No,” he said. “Wait....”
“Is there something else you want me to do?”
Was there? What Ben was about to do would set him on a course that he would see through to the end, regardless of consequences. Ben was like that. Ask anyone in D.C.
“Sir?”
“I want you to find out everything you can about Michael Snipes and his family.”
“Is there anything in particular that I should be looking for?”
“I want to know everything, including the kind of toothpaste he uses.”
“Consider it done, sir.”
That’s why Nathan Beauregard Hines was worth his weight in gold. When it came to business, he never questioned Ben’s motives. It was a good thing, too, for at the moment Ben hardly knew what they were.
They finished breakfast then Hines left Ben in the kitchen loading dishes into the dishwasher. The brochure for Holy Trinity was still on the cabinet; Holy Trinity where a certain woman, who wore sweatshirts advising Ben to hug his friends, was probably hatching some diabolical plan to ride him out of Sunday Cove on a rail.
He slung soap into the dishwasher and slammed the door. For a minute he thought about calling Hines back and saying, Forget Michael Snipes.
But that would invite uncomfortable questions, and besides, once Ben was committed, he never turned back.
He headed to the barn to deal with a donkey that didn’t like him any better than Holly Jones did. The way his luck had been running lately, the jackass would probably be wearing a saddle blanket giving Ben stupid advice.
He didn’t have time to hug friends, even if he’d had friends to hug.
o0o
Michael Snipes’ sister’s house was even smaller than Holly’s. As she stood on the front porch juggling packages so she could reach the doorbell, she marveled once again that a family of four could squeeze into space that already housed a family of three.
She punched the bell, and Jo Ann Snipes came to the door.
“Holly.” Smiling, she opened the door wide then reached for some of the packages. “Here. Let me help you with those.”
Holly followed her into a small room bursting at the seams with furniture. To add to the clutter, winter coats filled the sofa and two opened suitcases took up a good portion of floor space.
“Forgive the mess. We’re so crowded. But I shouldn’t complain. Sit down, Holly... if you can find a spot.”
“Nothing to forgive.” Holly shoved the coats aside and deposited gaily wrapped Christmas packages, then held up the wicker basket. “We’d better get this in the fridge.”
“Holly, you shouldn’t have. You’re too generous.”
“It’s just leftovers from the church supper... oh, and some fresh fruit.” Holly grinned, remembering how she had come by the fruit.
“The kids will love it.”
“They’d like it even more if they knew I took it from the man who stole your farm.”
“Holly...”Jo Ann’s gentle rebuke was offset by her affectionate smile.
“Well, he did,” Holly said, no longer sure. Could a man who held her face so tenderly while he wiped her tears be capable of theft? Tenderness and thievery didn’t seem to go hand in hand. But then, neither did honesty and political careers.
She sighed. What did she know? She was just a small-town girl who couldn’t even figure out two fairly simple ex-boyfriends, let alone a man as complex as Benjamin G. Sullivan.
“Tell me the story of the forbidden fruit, Holly. And don’t look surprised. You always have a story to tell, and you always make me laugh.”
Marching around the kitchen using dramatic gestures and making dramatic faces, Holly told about delivering the rotten fruit to Ben Sullivan. By the time she had finished, Jo Ann Snipes was holding her sides.
“Stop... stop... I can’t breathe.” She collapsed onto a kitchen chair and fanned her hot face with her apron. “Lord knows, I needed that.”
“How is it going, Jo Ann?”
“Not so good. Michael missed another interview yesterday.”
Holly’s spirits sank. The people in the church had arranged four interviews for Michael Snipes. By now he should have had a job.
“What happened?”
“You know... the usual. He overslept, and then the car wouldn’t crank.” Jo Ann twisted her hands together in her lap. “I don’t know, Holly. We can’t live with Peg and James forever. Sometimes I wonder where all this is going to end?”
Holly knelt in front of Jo Ann’s chair and squeezed her hands.
“I know it will all be over soon. I just know it. Hang on, Jo Ann.”
“I can, as long as I have friends like you.”
Holly felt the press of tears behind her eyes. A fine thing that would be, bawling like a newborn calf when she had come to cheer Jo Ann up. Fortunately, the back door burst open to let in three boisterous, laughing children, and she was too caught up in their excitement to think sad thoughts.
Little Timmy raced forward and grabbed her hand. “Look what Daddy and Aunt Peg got us, Holly. Look!”
It was a Christmas tree of enormous proportions, tall enough to reach the ceiling, with majestic sweeping branches that begged to be decorated.
Margie Snipes caught her other hand. “Can you stay and help us decorate it, please, Holly, please?”
She hadn’t meant to stay. There was the grocery shopping to do, and then Grandma’s bridge game with her friends at Clara’s Café. Then, the following day was Sunday, an extremely busy day for Holly at the church.
“I’d love to,” she said.
And it was the truth. There was nothing like being with children and good friends to make a woman forget that she had no one at home to put the star on top of her own tree.
Chapter 6
“You want me to what?”
This was not the kind of news Holly wanted to hear first thing on a Monday morning. She stood in Jonathan’s office feeling like a mouse trapped in an enormous maze.
“You’re the best one to do it, Holly. You know your way around the farm, you’ve already made one social call since Ben moved out there, and you know about animals.”
The thought of facing Ben Sullivan again on his own turf turned her inside out.
“I don’t know that much about animals,” she said. “Besides, I don’t think it’s a very good idea.”
“The truth is, neither do I. But this is what the children’s council voted for, and it’s my job to see that it happens.” He grinned
at her. “That’s why I called you.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere. You know the man. Shoot, the two of you got along like a house on fire at the benefit dinner. Why can’t you go, Jonathan?”
“It’s my day to visit the nursing home.”
“He’ll probably say no.” She fervently hoped he would. “What if he says no?”
“It’s your job to see that he doesn’t. You can do it, Holly. All you have to do is turn on your charm and people walk through flames for you.”
“That’s twice, Jonathan. You’re slipping.”
“No. I’m desperate. Look, Holly, I would go tomorrow, but I promised Jean I’d go Christmas shopping. If we don’t get this lined up today, we won’t have time to make adequate preparations.”
“You’re going to owe me big time for this, Jonathan.”
o0o
Holly put off the trip to Mockingbird Lane as long as she could. Not that she had to make excuses. There was enough work in the Fellowship Hall for more than two people. She and Loweva were hanging Christmas greens over the doors.
“Should I call first or just show up on his doorstep?” Holly said.
“You’re gonna fall off that ladder if you don’t quit turning around ever’ two minutes asking me about that man.”
“I’m not asking about that man. I’m asking about... protocol.”
“Protocol, my foot. The last time you got in this kind of stew was when that rascal Jake Farmer promised to take you off water skiing—and look how all that turned out.”
“Snow skiing... and it wasn’t so bad.... I enjoy cooking.”
“Hmm, cooking, my great-aunt Astor. You played maid to his high-and-mighty business partners.”
“This is not even the same kind of thing. This is church business.”
Loweva rolled her eyes. “Like all that business with Mr. Sullivan out in the hall?”
Flushed, Holly turned back to her decorating chores.
“This swag needs something. Don’t you think it needs a big bow or something?”
“We all need a big something, but I’m not fixing to say what.”
Holly laughed so hard, she had to get off the ladder to keep from toppling. When her mirth subsided she gave Loweva a quick hug.
“Do you know that you keep me sane?”
“It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it.”
Holly mounted the ladder once more, and Loweva handed up a red bow.
“I’m going to call,” Holly said as she tacked the bow to the swag of greenery. “That’s the only decent thing, don’t you think?”
“Yes, that’s what I think.”
Holly leaned back to inspect her work. “But maybe it would be better if I just show up. The element of surprise, and all that. What do you think?”
“Sounds like a good plan to me.”
“Loweva!” Holly came down from the ladder. “I’m serious about this. What do you really think?”
“I think you ought to quit agonizing, then go home and get all powdered and painted up and put on something that makes you feel like dynamite, then go out there and let nature take its course.”
“That could be dangerous.”
“Honey, I’ve lived safe and I’ve lived dangerous, and I can tell you one thing, dangerous is better.”
Chapter 7
“Do I look like a fool?”
“On the contrary, sir. You cut a handsome figure, but perhaps the tie is a bit too much.”
“I knew that.” Ben pulled off his tie and stuffed it into his pocket. “I was just checking to see if you’re still on your toes.”
Repressing his grin, Hines strolled toward the kitchen.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to polish the silver serving tray.”
“You’re polishing the silver?”
“We can’t have Miss Jones taking tea on tarnished silver, now, can we, sir?”
“I call that cowardly, leaving me to face the music by myself.”
Hines cocked his head to one side. “Come to think of it, sir, I do hear music.” His eyes twinkled. “What do you think it is? Bells in the hills that you never heard ringing?”
“Hines, you’ve seen too many Broadway musicals.”
Ben glanced at his watch. Six minutes after four. Holly was late. She’d said she would be there at four.
In the kitchen Hines was whistling as he polished the silver service. Good grief. The silver service.
Did Ben have time to race upstairs and change back into his jeans and sweatshirt, then maybe run down to the barn and find a chore to do? There was always that crazy jackass who acted like Ben was the Grinch who stole Christmas.
He felt like a jackass himself. The way he and Hines were carrying on, Holly Jones was going to think they were excited about her visit. He’d be happy if he never laid eyes on her again.
He ran his hand through his hair. That was another thing. His foolhardy race to a barbershop called Hoot’s had put him at the mercy of a jovial dictator who could have passed for Santa Claus. Hoot Sims, himself.
“Just a little off the top,” Ben had told him.
“You don’t want that top cut. Makes the ladies swoon.”
“I don’t need to make ladies swoon.”
“You never know.” Hoot winked. “There’s no telling when the legend of Sunday Cove will get a hold of you.” He took out his scissors and Ben’s hair began flying. “You just leave it to me. I’ve got an eye for these things.”
o0o
Ben didn’t know if Hoot’s eye had caused him to end up looking like a vain man auditioning for the part of a 1920s movie idol, or a man enamored of hair product.
He ran a hand through his hair, hoping to relieve himself of looking like a man who had just gone to the barbershop. He was heading up the stairs to change out his ill-advised button down shirt and necktie when the doorbell rang. Hines could get it. As a matter of fact, if Ben were smart, he’d let Hines handle the whole thing.
“Hines?” he called.
Hines stuck his head around the kitchen door.
“You’ll have to get it, sir. My hands are covered with silver polish.”
Ben sighed as if were on the way to Alcatraz.
Standing on his front porch with the setting sun as her backdrop, Holly looked like something on a Renoir canvas. The wind had whipped her cheeks to a bright rose, and her hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall of flames. She was wearing a soft angora sweater as blue as her eyes.
And what was that scent? It reminded Ben of the citrus grove he’d once visited with a client from Florida. It seemed to be coming from Holly, and yet not from her. It was everywhere, swirling around the front porch and through the front door so that suddenly Ben felt as if he couldn’t breathe.
For a heady moment, he forgot everything except the intoxicating woman on his front porch. It took a while before he remembered that contents rarely lived up to their packaging.
“Won’t you come in?”
“Thank you.”
Ben had always been intrigued by the way women walked, and Holly had it down to an art. Was it calculated on her part, that smooth gliding gait that gave her hips just the right amount of seductive swivel?
When she glanced back over her shoulder and saw him watching her, she blushed. He guessed that was Southern, the ability to blush at will. Whatever it was, it was extremely sexy. And more than a little dangerous. If he weren’t careful, he’d find himself believing in the fairy tale people called romance.
Holly sat in his favorite burgundy leather wing back chair and crossed her legs at the ankles. She looked sweet and demure. It helped that he knew she was neither.
“I hope you didn’t get the wrong idea about this visit,” she said.
“I didn’t get any ideas at all.”
He’d had years of practice in lying. Funny, though, how hard it was to tell them to this woman in this bucolic setting.
Her color deepened. “I guess I should
have told you on the phone. This is church business, of course.”
“Of course.”
Ben wasn’t going to make this easy for her. He stretched his legs and scooted down in his chair, the picture of repose. It was a pose designed to catch his opponents off guard. He’d won many a battle that way.
“Every year at Christmastime we do something special for the children at Holy Trinity. Last year we did a wonderful little pageant, and they all got to dress up in costumes and be animals. They loved it.”
She lifted her chin and dared him to find fault.
“I’m sure they did,” he said. “On occasion I enjoy doing that myself.”
“Oh... my...” Holly looked like a little girl surprised by Santa.
He almost believed she was real.
Ben had sworn he would never be the kind of fool who lost his senses over a woman, and yet here he was dressed fit to kill and sitting idle on a Monday afternoon while Hines plotted to serve tea on a silver platter. And all because of a phone call from the woman who sat in his favorite chair.
“So... tell me, Holly, did you come here to ask me to be an animal?”
She shot out of her chair. “You are the most...” Her lips trembled as she searched for words to describe him.
“Devious?” he suggested. “Dangerous?”
“I was going to say irritating, perhaps even maddening.”
If his conscience hurt a little at the way he’d goaded her, he salved it by telling himself that he was saving her a lot of grief in the long run.
“Too bad you can’t stay for tea,” he said.
Holly gathered her courage. First, she took a deep breath then she sat back down and crossed her legs at the knee. This was the Holly Jones he knew; assertive, focused, certain of herself and her mission.
“If you think I’m leaving, think again.” Her voice was full of a sweetness he knew to be fake. Surprising himself with how much he looked forward to this sparring match, Ben suppressed a grin.
“This could be a long evening.”
“Very,” she said. “I came for something, and I don’t plan to budge until I get it.”
“Is that your way of telling me that I have something you want?”
