“Do what? Ask you out?”
“Push me to make a choice. I like you, too. I enjoy spending time with you, but….”
“Ah, the ‘but.’ I get it. I’m sorry if I pressured you.”
“You didn’t. I’m sorry if I gave you mixed messages. You deserve someone who can give you much more than I can.”
After a moment of silence, he said, “You deserve that, too. I’m sorry it couldn’t be with me. If Evan is that man, I hope he treats you well.”
She protested, “This isn’t about Evan.”
“Alex, for a woman who can spot a lost cat in the middle of a cotton field, you sure are blind where love is concerned.” His tone returned to business. “Do you want me to bring Walter to the shelter tomorrow, or will you pick him up?”
“Someone will pick him up.”
“Fine. He’ll be ready by noon. I want to keep an eye on him and make sure there’s no damage to his esophagus, see that he eats okay.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Goodbye, Alex.”
She ended the call feeling relieved and uncomfortable. She didn’t like disappointing anyone. Things would no doubt be awkward for a while between her and Howard. Maybe she could make sure volunteers had more contact with him for a while. It was a shame because she really would have enjoyed Howard’s friendship. And what was that comment about ‘love’? If Howard read her that way, was Evan getting the same reading?
With a few hours to kill before she showed up at Evan’s house, she drove to the shelter. A stack of mail sat in the middle of her desk. Volunteers were already there cleaning out the kennels and exercising some of the dogs. Lambchop wandered into her office and rested his muzzle on her thigh, waiting for a head pat. She smiled and ran her fingers through his silky curls that were growing back in nicely. Soon he’d look more like a dog than a lamb. “Hey, buddy, how are you?”
She returned to opening mail. A letter from one of the casinos caught her attention. They wanted to help sponsor the shelter and asked if she’d call their community relations coordinator to set up a meeting. She had received donations from time to time in the form of used blankets or bedspreads when one or the other hotels were replacing their bedding. But this letter indicated an ongoing sponsorship. This could be like hitting the lottery. She set the letter beside the phone so she could call first thing in the morning, assuming no one would be in the office on a Sunday.
When she opened the next three envelopes, all bills, her gratitude and hopefulness surged. It would be easy to give them examples of ways their dollars could help. She had already earmarked Amy’s money for either renovation or relocation to a new facility.
At fifteen minutes before one, she gathered up her purse and keys and headed out. Might as well get this over with.
Evan answered the door dressed in worn jeans, a t-shirt that hid nothing of what she saw last night, and damp hair that fell onto his forehead. Alex fought the urge to reach up and finger-comb it into place.
“Right on time,” he said.
“I try to be prompt.” She stepped past him.
“Would you like a cup of coffee or a glass of tea before we get started?”
“No, thanks.” She stood and waited for him to move toward the stairs.
“Okay, then.” He motioned for her to go ahead.
Once in the attic, he asked Alex to look at the stored pieces of furniture and sort through some photographs, decide which ones would be good for display in the restaurant. “I have to go through a few of my boxes that I put up here and find some important papers.”
Alex went quietly about her task, only interrupting his frantic digging through boxes of books and papers to ask his opinion about the furniture she’d selected. “I know Miss Amy would be very proud to have these things on display in your restaurant. And I think it’s sweet of you to name the place after her.”
“Aha!”
“So you agree.”
“What? Sorry, I wasn’t listening. I just found what I was searching for.” He flipped through a stack of papers. “Will you be okay here for about half an hour? I need to run to the restaurant and get a phone number.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks. I’ll be back.” He nearly fell over his own feet getting down the stairs.
Alex ran her fingers over the fine antique pieces she’d chosen for display. Her throat tightened as she thought of Amy, how the older woman had loved these things because they tied her to a past of which she was very proud.
An old steamer trunk peeked out from beneath a dusty bedspread. Alex carefully pulled the cloth aside and opened the latches. Raising the lid, she discovered the trunk was filled with stacks of old photographs, some tin types dating back to the Civil War. It was a treasure trove of Cade and Whiting family histories.
A creaking of the stairs drew her attention. She glanced up as Tiffany swatted at a cobweb and stepped into the dimly lit space.
“I was looking for Evan.”
“He had some business to tend to.”
“I see.” She moved closer. “What does he have you doing up here?”
“I’m sorting through some things to be used in the restaurant.”
Tiffany glanced around the attic. “Oh my, look at all these antiques. Why they must be worth a small fortune. Did you know Evan’s great aunt very well?”
Without looking up, Alex nodded. “I did.” She wished the woman would go back down the stairs and leave her to her work.
“I understand she was quite wealthy.”
“I knew Miss Amy to be a woman of great moral strength who lived simply and cared about others. I never considered her finances to be my business.”
Nonplussed, Tiffany continued, now wending her way around the attic, perusing the family heirlooms. “Don’t most old Southern families come from money?” She circled around and glanced down at Alex. “With some exceptions, of course.”
Heat rose in Alex’s chest and she fought to remain seated. “A lot of Southern families lost everything in the war. As for exceptions, I guess that’s true everywhere when it comes to money or class.” With the last few words, she lifted her eyes to meet Tiffany’s. “With all due respect, I have only a little time to work here and I could do it best without interruption.”
It was Tiffany’s turn to flush with either embarrassment or anger at being dismissed. “Is there a decent hairdresser within twenty miles of this godforsaken place?” She pursed her lips, then added, “I’m sure the casinos all have spa services and I’ll need a full spa treatment for the grand opening on Friday. After all, I am the owner’s wife.”
Alex frowned. “Ex-wife?”
Tiffany smiled like a shark that smelled fresh blood. “Uh, no. Evan never signed the divorce papers. I don’t think he really wanted a divorce, and I’ve recently had a change of heart. That’s why I’m here—to give us a second chance.” She turned and stopped at the top of the stairs. “Would you be a dear and tell Evan I’ve gone in search of a place to make a hair appointment? Surely the casino shops and spas are open on Sunday. I have to get out of this musty old house.”
Alex envisioned reaching out and giving Tiffany an ever so slight push. It would look like an accident. “Oh, I’ll tell him.”
Once she heard the downstairs door close and a car start up outside, she stood, dusted off the seat of her jeans, and descended the drop-down stairs. In the kitchen, she helped herself to a glass of tea, though something stronger would have been preferred. And it dawned on her—the papers Evan was so eager to locate. No wonder he was in a rush. Tiffany’s showing up here was probably his worst nightmare.
She was rinsing the glass when Evan returned.
“I’m glad you made yourself at home. How’s it going upstairs?”
“I’m almost finished. I would have been done sooner, but Tiffany stopped in to chat.”
He clung to the papers in his hand and glanced around. “Where is she?” His tone was that of someone expecting a vicious animal to
jump out and bite them.
“She’s gone to make a hair appointment at one of the casino spas and to, quote, get out of this musty old house.”
He stared at her. “She was obnoxious to you, wasn’t she?”
“She has a way of making her point, bless her heart.”
Evan chuckled. “I’ve been here in the south long enough to know that isn’t a compliment or well-wishing.”
“Did you get your business taken care of?”
“I made an important call. Now I have to go to the courthouse in the morning.”
She nodded. “Tiffany told me about the non-divorce.”
“I misplaced the divorce papers when I packed and never signed them.” Beads of perspiration broke out on Evan’s forehead. “I knew there was some reason she’d come snooping around. The woman has a nose for money, that’s for sure. Wait until she finds out I have to stay here for a year to collect.”
Alex bit her lip. “You make it sound like a prison sentence. So that’s your plan, put in the time, collect the money and leave?”
He blinked. “What? No, that isn’t what I meant. I’m starting to really like it here. Tiffany, on the other hand….” He sighed. “In all the chaos of closing up the restaurant and moving, I thought I’d signed these and sent them back to the attorney.”
Alex pushed off from the sink where she was leaning. “You know what they say, that sometimes we forget something as a way of avoiding it because we don’t really want to do it.”
“Oh, I really want to do this. Trust me.” He followed her to the stairs once more.
“I found buried treasure for you,” she said as she scrambled up the steps and over to the open trunk. “Look at these photos.” She sat on the floor, her legs crossed.
Evan dropped down beside her. “Wow, these are great. Any way of identifying who these people are?”
“Yep. Amy labeled the back of each photograph.” She picked up one of the old faded sepia-toned photos. “Evan, meet your great-great-grandfather Micah Cade.”
Evan took the photograph and gently cradled it in his hands. “Amazing.”
The reverence in his voice made her throat tighten a little.
“There’s so much family history in this trunk. You can have these framed and display them at Amelia’s. I know a guy who does framing and knows how to handle these old photographs.”
He reached into the trunk and pulled out an eight by ten portrait of a young woman with her hair swept up and a demure smile on her face.
“That’s your Aunt Amelia when she must have been in her early twenties.”
“She was beautiful.”
“Yes, in more ways than one.” Her voice broke.
Evan turned his head, their faces inches apart. She felt his breath on her cheek.
He stared into her eyes. “You loved Aunt Amy.”
“Very much. Amy probably saved my life, gave me a sense of self and purpose.”
He reached out and wiped away a tear with his thumb. His warm palm cupped her cheek. Golden brown eyes locked on hers. When he lowered his mouth over hers, she forgot everything—that a relationship with Evan Whiting would be very complicated; that she was there as a friend to Amy to help him sort photos and antiques; that his divorce was, in fact, not final.
She pulled away abruptly. “I think you have enough to work with here. I have to go.” She stood and brushed the dust from her palms. Her now dampened, dirty palms.
“Alex….”
“Don’t. You’re not even divorced.” She moved toward the steps. “Your life is complicated. I don’t want complications. I’m sorry.” She nearly lost her footing half way down, but grabbed onto the side rails, picking up a few splinters. She practically ran to her car.
Their lips had barely touched, but she felt a jolt all the way to her toes. Her hand shook as she worked the key into the car’s ignition. She needed distance from Evan Whiting. As much as she wanted to attend the grand opening of Amelia’s, she would have to beg off. One of the women from the Daughters of the Confederacy could easily give a talk about Amelia Cade Whiting at the ribbon cutting.
Chapter Eighteen
Evan sat on the dusty floor wondering what had possessed him. He’d vowed not to do anything to give Alex the impression he was interested in her. And what did he go and do? He stared into those jade green eyes and he kissed her. It wasn’t all that much of a kiss. It would have been, but she pulled away too fast.
What was wrong with him? Frustration, he decided. How long had it been? Too long. Judging by Alex’s response, she wasn’t all that interested in him. She high-tailed it out of there faster than someone who’d walked into a hornet’s nest.
He stood and brushed the dust off his seat. Work, that’s what he needed to focus on. Besides, he didn’t want to be there when Tiffany returned. He locked the now-signed divorce papers into the glove box of his SUV for safe keeping and headed for the restaurant.
It didn’t take Evan long to realize that some people in the south did not work on Sunday. His hopes of arranging for the moving of the furniture and someone to frame the photographs went out the window. He could call Alex and get the name of the person she said she knew, but that seemed a bad idea at the moment. If he had Walter, they could go for a drive, maybe walk somewhere in the woods. But Tiffany had taken care of that matter. Now he had to go to Doggie 101 to make sure he would be a fit adoptive parent.
Alex’s car was parked in front of the shelter next door. Reasoning that he was probably the last person she wanted to see right now, he put the SUV into gear and headed for the highway. Maybe a little mindless gambling—little being the operative term—would take his mind off things. He stopped at the first casino in the row and parked. He tried his hand at a quarter slot machine and blew through twenty dollars in a matter of minutes. He walked around, watching other players, before settling down at a penny machine. This was more his speed. Or so he thought. In no time, his credits were gone. He was not having fun yet.
Then he spied a familiar face near the bar. Alex’s sister, Kellie. She spotted him, waved and smiled. Obviously she’d not yet gotten the memo that he was to be avoided.
“Hey, Evan. How are you?” she asked.
“I’m fine. You?”
“Good. Evan, this is Robert.” She pulled a tall, well-built man away from the bar. “Rob, this is Evan Whiting. He’s opening the new restaurant on Friday.”
“Nice to meet you.” Robert extended his hand. “We’re coming to your grand opening.”
“Thanks.”
Kellie looped an arm through Evan’s. “I need to talk to you for a minute.” To Rob she said, “I’ll be right back, sugar.”
“Is this about the property?”
“Property? Oh, no. I haven’t heard back from my client yet about that. I was wondering if you’re free one evening for dinner.”
“I…uh…. Are you asking me out?”
“Yes. Well, on a double date. Me, Rob, you and my…uh…a friend. You’re new to the area, so I thought I could introduce you to someone.”
“A friend?”
Kellie nodded. “She’s a great person, beautiful, smart, runs her own business. Well, better for her to tell you all that when you meet. What do you say?”
Evan thought about it. It would be good for him to meet a woman, someone other than Alex or Tiffany. “This week is going to be non-stop. With the restaurant opening, I’ll be tied up every night except Mondays. We’ll be closed on Monday.”
“Great. Next Monday. I’ll make reservations. Maybe some place in Memphis. We’ll pick you up around six.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“So, you havin’ any luck here?” she asked as they walked back toward the bar.
“Nah, I had time on my hands and nothing to do. I think I’ll head home and get some work done.”
“We’ll see you on Friday night.”
Evan nodded. “Have a nice evening.”
On his way to the door, Evan stopped and
fed a ten dollar bill into a one dollar slot machine. On his third spin, three sevens lined up. Bells rang and lights flashed.
An attendant came over and slid a card into a slot in the machine. “Congratulations!”
“Thanks, what did I win?”
She laughed and pointed to the screen on the top of the machine. “Nine hundred dollars. If you’ll wait right here, I’ll be back.”
He was stunned. He’d scored a blind date and a jackpot. Maybe his luck was turning around.
The following morning, Evan’s notion of changing luck was dashed when he went to the courthouse to file the divorce papers, only to be told he needed to have an attorney handle that. He left, certain he’d have to make a quick trip to New York to get the divorce finalized. He thought of Warren Pinkney, his aunt’s attorney. Back in Cade’s Point, Evan parked in front of the law office where he was told Mr. Pinkney was in court at the moment. He left an urgent request for the lawyer to call him as soon as possible.
The message light flashed on his office phone and he hit the ‘play’ button. “Evan, this is Alex Ramsey. I’m sorry, but I’m unable to speak at the ribbon cutting for your grand opening on Friday. I’ve arranged for Henrietta Atkins to be there. She knew your Aunt Amelia quite well and is happy to say a few words about her.” Pause. “Good luck with the opening.”
He slumped into the high-backed leather chair. As much as he wanted distance from Alex, he also wanted to see her. Perhaps this was for the best, though. He’d get through the week and the grand opening and, on next Monday, go out with Kellie’s friend and—who knows—start a new relationship. Or at least find someone to spend some time with.
He picked up the file of recipes he’d found in his aunt’s trunk. No time like the present to experiment. These original recipes might become featured menu items. He headed for the kitchen.
*
“No. No. No.” Alex shook her head.
“Come on. It’ll be fun. He’s a great guy. Handsome, easy-going, owns his own business. It’s just one dinner date and you won’t be alone with him. One signal from you and we cut the evening short.” Kellie gave her a pleading look.
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