“Who’s Dudley?” Ben asked.
“Have you ever seen the bad guys in the Star Wars movies?” Hogan asked.
He nodded. “Yep.”
“Well, he’s one of those. Trying to take things that aren’t his.”
Jenna put down her hand and lowered her glasses. “Heavens to Betsy. I really need to write my Letter of Intention and send it to Mr. Smithers now. And start the paperwork to get Bellingham dropped off my name so I’ll be officially a DeBordieu. Like the trust requires.” Could she actually save her family’s plantation? And keep the trust for her own people? Yesterday, it had seemed complicated and difficult, but Hogan had changed all that. And his hair. Because she was taking a chance for the first time in her life to trust someone.
“Oh, I’d almost forgotten to ask. I’m not going to have to change my name, am I?” Hogan said, his brow furrowed, looking wantonly handsome.
“Not unless you are a long lost cousin and want to inherit it, too. Anyway, everything will go to the next offspring of whomever is approved.” Things were certainly looking up for her. She examined her hero in the chair across the room.
Yep, she’d certainly like to have offspring with him. In fact, she couldn’t wait to get married to start practicing.
⸙
Offspring? Hogan wasn’t going to be having any more offspring. Not after Savannah. But Jenna didn’t even know that. Boy, she needed to know a lot of things. He simply hadn’t had the time to tell her.
Hmmm. Maybe he did jump the gun about this marriage thing—just a little.
But there was no going back now. They could actually save one another.
“So…Miss Bellingham. We’d better be going to get the ball rolling on that name change and letter.”
“I don’t even know where to begin.” She stepped down and walked to Hogan.
“I have a friend of mine who’s an attorney standing by to see us this afternoon. We’ve got to get you fingerprinted and get a background check on you first.”
“What?”
“For the name change.” He held onto her waist and pulled her to him. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me before we do that? Are you listed on any dubious registries, or most wanted lists, or anything?” he asked.
She playfully hit at him. “Like, you’ve got to be kidding. I’m a registered member of the DAR and the Summerbrook Ladies League. And more stuffy, pretentious organizations than I can count. Sometimes that ought to be illegal.” She smiled. “Believe me…when you’ve been investigated by the ladies league, there’s absolutely nothing ‘dubious’ in your background.”
They both giggled. Oh, did he ever know that. He’d heard about that over and over again several years ago.
He let go of her waist and held out his hand to Ben. “Thanks, buddy, for helping me pull that off on such short notice.” They shook hands.
“Anytime. I work for peanuts.”
They all laughed.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Hogan handed the little boy the brown paper bag with the boiled peanuts. “Here you go.”
“Gosh. Thanks,” Ben said.
They all hugged and said their goodbyes.
Hogan took Jenna to the police department for the fingerprinting, by his lawyer’s office for the name change documents, and then back to his Harley dealership.
Before he got out of his car, he glanced down at her hand and said, “You know we’re going to get some heat about this. When people notice.”
She nodded, gazing at the stone. She inhaled deeply and then looked at him with heavenly blue eyes. “I’m ready. But are you ready to be crucified about your hair?”
He lifted his brows. “I’d better be. It’s going to be bad in there.” He smiled.
He stood at the door and opened it for her.
“Oh, I get this. I go first so I can step on all the landmines.”
“Landmines? What landmines?” he asked. Jenna could be confusing sometimes. Like she had something going on in her head that he wasn’t privy to.
“This just reminds me of a quote by Robert Mueller that’s in one of my favorite books. ‘I asked a Burmese why women, after centuries of following their men, now walk ahead. He said there were many unexploded land mines since the war.’”
He smiled and nodded. “That’s exactly why you’re going in first,” he said.
She stepped through, looking at him as she did. As soon as they made their way inside, it started.
“Boss, what happened?” Dickey asked, looking at Hogan’s hair. “Hey, call Sea Pig and Diamond Jim out here. Look at Boss.”
Hickey was next. “That little socialite there done whipped you, Boss?”
“Nothing like that, boys. I just need to meet her family, and I didn’t want to look like McMullet over there.” He pointed at the red disarray of hair.
Diamond Jim, Wilder and Sea Pig came out into the showroom.
“Oh, what in tarnation! Look what he’s gone and done,” said Wilder, pointing at Jenna’s hand. “Looks like he’s got a weakness for socialites, don’t it.”
“Remember what happened last time? Had them little cucumber sandwiches instead of hotdogs at the sales event. Had bikers leaving in droves,” said Sea Pig.
“I ain’t never seen so many cucumbers in a trash can in all my life,” said Diamond Jim. He looked at Hogan. “Boss, you don’t remember that?”
“I do, but Jenna might not even like cucumber sandwiches.” He looked at her.
She nodded and wrinkled her perfect nose. “Sorry, but they’re one of my favorites.”
“Awww. Heck,” Diamond Jim said.
The others shook their heads, shuffled and mumbled.
“So…enough time for your little break. Get back to work and sell me some Harleys. I’ve got to get this here ring paid for.” Hogan lifted Jenna’s hand in the air.
The moaning commenced again. He supposed it wasn’t exactly the way to motivate the group of surly dudes, but they may as well get used to the fact that Jenna was going to be around for a while.
Jenna looked completely ill at ease. Still sexy as all get out, but uncomfortable.
The crew all moved away, grumbling, back to their stations and jobs.
Hogan surveyed Jenna’s face. “You ready to get that Letter of Intent written?”
She nodded. “You bet. I was beginning to think this day would never come, or I’d be doing it alone with little hopes of it being accepted.” She walked beside him. “I could certainly imagine writing a quit claim letter, though.”
They sat together in Hogan’s office, two chairs pulled together, arms touching. He pushed the laptop toward her. “Time to do the writing and the arithmetic.”
Jenna typed. He stared. And admired her beauty. And the little smile she wore as she hit the keyboard with her fingers.
Then she started on the paragraph about him. How he was her intended, and he was a single businessman with no children. The hairs on his forearms stood, and his breath caught in his throat. It was what she knew of him. None of what she typed was exactly true. He lived on a farm and was a divorced man with a five-year-old special needs daughter.
And Jenna knew nothing about any of it. This was not the time to tell her, though. But what if those nuances mattered? Nerves knotted in his gut. He was the reason all this was happening. What if he’d gotten her hopes up about saving her home, and they couldn’t pull it off? It was all moving so fast. So fast he really hadn’t had time to think it all through.
What had he done?
Chapter Ten
“Land is the secure ground of home, the sea is like life, the outside, the unknown.”
~ Stephen Gardiner
“Oh, thank goodness you’ve arrived,” Jenna said to Hogan as she straightened the bow-tie that added that final touch to his monkey suit. He detested these kinds of events.
“Mother is absolutely a nervous wreck.” She stepped back. “What’s wrong?”
Hogan couldn’t tell her, and he couldn’t believe h
er mother had the ability to put together some major deal engagement soirée in less than two weeks. She must know Bentley’s parents’ event coordinator. Though he looked for opportunities every time he and Jenna got together, he could never find just the right time to tell her about his…complications.
“Sorry, Jenna.” He bent down and kissed his beautiful fiancé on the forehead. Her dress was a pale blue that almost matched the color of her eyes. Did match the color of the spring sky at the point the white clouds mixed with the blue. Light. Serene. Nothing like his internal thermostat which was almost overheating because of the hot water he was in if she found out about Savannah and his…life before he told her.
He tugged at the tautness of his collar and looked around. Who came up with parties like this? He had been so glad when Bentley was out of his life, and it was no longer required that he dress like a mortician getting married every other month or more. And here he was again.
Jenna grabbed him by the arm and led him straight to her mother.
“Hogan, dear,” Mrs. DeBordieu…or Mrs. Bellingham…or whatever her name was air kissed him beside his ear. He hated air kisses. What kind of a lame practice was that? Either kiss someone or don’t. He wanted to kiss someone all right. Jenna. Long and hard and slippery and wet. All his old feelings about society people were flooding his head.
Jenna’s mom’s name should have been Mrs. Bellingham—because of Jenna’s father, who had cozied up to the huge sideboard that had been set up as a bar, but instead, her legal name was Mrs. DeBordieu because of the dictates of some old trust.
Would he be relegated to Mr. Bellingham’s position in a matter of months? Propping up some bar because his wife was off socializing or hosting some charity thing? He’d been down that path before, and he did not want to go traipsing down it again. And this time his wife wouldn’t even have his last name. Like Jenna’s mother, Mrs. DeBordieu.
“We have so many people to introduce you to, Hogan,” said Mrs. DeBordieu in her polished Southern accent.
So…he was a dog and pony show again. Things were moving way too fast.
Jenna stayed by his side as her mother led him around the room. Which was large and filled with antiques and family silver with all sorts of colorful hors d'oeuvres in them.
“These are the Prioleaus. Galliard and his lovely wife. They own Gardenia Plantation just down the road,” Mrs. DeBordieu said. Hogan had heard of them through his ex-wife’s family, but had never met them. Galliard sipped what looked like a gin and tonic, and his wife, who still remained nameless, just looked…obligated or owned or something. There was a sadness in the air about her.
“Thorpe, is it?” Galliard asked. “Is your family from here?”
Hogan nodded, resentful that he had to explain himself or his family to anyone. It was none of his business. Galliard was really asking how old his family name was, and was Hogan worth his trouble. He knew the drill. Family names were connected to land and plantations and history in the South. It was more important than who one was or what one did to make the world a better place. Oh, they’d play charity games. To make themselves feel better about taking up so much of the valuable real estate around them just by being born with a certain surname.
Hogan had gotten himself out of the trap that he’d fallen into with the Charleston hob-snobbery, and here he was again with Jenna and her neighbors—the land-owning gentry that lived on huge tracts of generational property along Ashley River Road.
How on earth did this happen? And so fast?
It was because he and Jenna really hadn’t gotten to know each other’s history—not like they should have—before they’d gotten engaged. Now it didn’t matter how “different” Jenna was from Bentley in so many ways. Right now, it seemed to matter more that she was still too much of the same.
What had he done?
He had to get out of there. Fast.
“Excuse me for a moment. I see an old friend of mine, and I need to speak to him before he gets away.” And he did. At the moment he saw Bullworth Clayton on the veranda in the back, he’d seen his get-out-of-jail-free card.
He walked out the front, around the side and tried to get Bull’s attention. “Pssst. Bullworth. Bullworth.” Bull was recently out of the hospital after an accident and had all of his shoulder-length hair shaved off. A little was growing back in, but he did not look like the same Bullworth. Clean cut and in a monkey suit. Just like Hogan.
Bull saw him. “Dude. Where’s the mullet?” He started laughing. “Oh, no. Hog’s gotten clipped. Literally.”
“Get over here before someone calls us out as escapees,” Hogan said.
Bull looked behind him and made his way over to Hogan.
“Let’s walk down to the river.” Hogan motioned to the path that meandered through the garden.
The two friends walked in silence for a while.
“Is something wrong?” Bull asked, pulling to loosen his bow-tie. “You don’t look so good.”
Hogan pressed his lips together. “I don’t know.” They walked a few more paces. “I don’t think I thought this whole thing through. This is not what I signed up for. Again.”
Bull remained quiet.
“I mean. Jenna’s perfect for me, but all this money and family and plantation stuff. Crap. I hated the pretense the first time.”
“Then I take it that you didn’t tell Jenna about Bentley…and Savannah. Or anything else.”
“Not yet. I haven’t even told her about the farm.” Hogan pulled a dead camellia bud off the bush beside him as he walked and hurled it as hard as he could.
“Dude, you’ve got some ‘splaining to do.”
At this point Hogan didn’t know if he even wanted to explain. He could never go back to cotillions and tea parties and fundraising galas at Hibernian Hall. No matter how much he needed Jenna. Or how much he was enamored with her.
He was sunk. Again.
⸙
Jenna stood beside April. “Where do you think they ran off to? It’s been over thirty minutes,” Jenna said.
“Probably comparing notes on how they’d proposed. I’m sure Hogan has Bull beat.” April let out a little laugh. “Heck. I didn’t even know Bull was proposing. He was just coming out of his coma, and I though he was delusional.”
They both giggled. Their fiancées certainly weren’t run-of-the-mill fiancées. They were fringe people. Literally. Who didn’t give a pig’s eye about how the world viewed them—or a hog’s eye—or a bull’s eye. Jenna had—at first—found that troublesome about Bull. But when she got to know Hogan, it had turned endearing.
Their friend Callie, Hanna’s cousin, came by with a tray of hors d'oeuvres. “Hey, Jenna, thanks for letting me have this gig. I’ve already got two jobs off it. Down Home Catering is about to explode with all my new business.”
“Don’t thank me. I don’t know what my mother would have done if you couldn’t do it on such short notice. Really. Thank you,” Jenna said.
Callie lowered her tray. “Here. Have one of these before they get gone. Mushrooms Charleston.”
Each of the girls grabbed one.
April took a bite and rolled her eyes. “Mmmm. These are incredible.”
Callie smiled. “One of my specialties.”
“They are awesome. Thanks again, sweetie,” Jenna said.
“Hey, I need to talk to you about a reception, when you get a chance,” April said.
“I’ll call you next week. When I get a chance,” Callie said as she walked to the next group of revelers.
April took a sip of her champagne. “How’s the wedding planning going?”
Jenna cleared her throat. “Not well. Mother wants to control everything. Like it’s her wedding.” She shook her head. “But I’m not having it. You should have seen her face when I told her you were going to play your accordion at the wedding.”
April spewed out a little champagne. “What? You hadn’t told me that. I don’t know if I even want to go up against Isabella DeBordieu on th
at,” April said.
She shrugged. “My wedding. My choice. My friend. My music.”
April joined in with the two word sentences. “You mother. Will murder. Your butt.”
Jenna lifted her head. “My mother simply needs to be grateful that I may have found a way to save our plantation. Possibly.”
April looked deep into her champagne glass. “Possibly?” What if the board doesn’t approve? Are you still going to marry him?”
Jenna looked out the window at the grounds leading to the huge pond and fountain out front. “It has to work. We’ll lose everything if it doesn’t. Nothing I’ve imagined doing to make this place will work with the little bit of capital I have.”
April touched her arm. “You need to love him, you know.”
She nodded. “I know.” Her brain couldn’t organize all she needed to do at the moment. Everything was moving so fast.
Her mother gave her another look from across the drawing room. She knew what it meant. Where is he? Jenna shrugged. Un, deux, trois, quarto, cinq, six. Her nerves. She needed to get to the dress shop and organize a couple of racks. Her refrigerator was beyond organized at this point. Hmmm. Maybe she could help Hogan out at the store.
She looked at her mother again. Though she knew her mother and she were on the same team, it made her uncomfortable that her mother was talking to Dudley, Scarlet and Mr. Smithers. Scarlet seemed especially animated, telling some story or other to the entire group. Probably protesting that her giant ring weighed more than Jenna’s.
Where on earth was Hogan? She just couldn’t wait to introduce them to the future overseer of DeBordieu Plantation.
But something didn’t seem quite right about their conversation. Her mother kept shaking her head and looking back at Jenna. Mr. Smithers was adding to whatever story Scarlet was telling and was getting into her mother’s space more and more. And then she detected a slight…smirk on Dudley’s face. Scarlet looked her way and smiled one of those two-faced smiles.
Un, deux, trois, quarto, cinq, six, sept. Something was wrong. If only Hogan were here. He’d run interference for whatever was going on.
Fireflies and Lies (A Summerbrook Novel Book 4) Page 15
