by Lenora Worth
“And we appreciate the jobs,” she retorted. Slamming the rusty tailgate, she turned and wiped her hands down her jeans and exhaled a tired sigh. “Just keep things on a business kind of level. People want to work, not be handed something out of sympathy. If you want to impress the people of Fleur, come up with a way to keep most of them working at the shipyard.”
Not used to her being so snappish, he noticed she looked fatigued. “I’m not doing anything out of sympathy. When I first came here, I had big plans to cut half the workforce at the shipyard. But I didn’t.”
Shock colored her face. “Well, I’m thankful for that. You did make a promise to those kids the other day, remember?”
He stepped closer. “I didn’t do it, but I didn’t promise a full work crew, either. That’s my point. I could have let everyone go, but I didn’t. I haven’t decided yet.”
She tugged at her ponytail then took a long breath. “You wanted to shut the place down, didn’t you? What changed your mind?”
Tomas stared down at her, saw the confusion in her eyes, saw the tug-of-war in her heart. He felt both, but he couldn’t stop himself. “You, Callie. You changed my mind.” He took another step. “You changed me.”
“Me?” She backed away. “I haven’t done anything.”
“You don’t have to do anything. You only have to stand there and be yourself. It’s enough. It’s...hard to understand, hard to explain. And hard to resist.”
Putting on a blank face, she softened her expression and her tone. “Well, whatever I did, I’m glad it worked. You can’t fire everyone, Tomas. It’s not fair.”
“No, but...that’s life,” he replied. He tapped a hand against the truck. “I need to tell you something. If you’ll listen.”
“I’m listening.” But she looked wary.
“I came here with an agenda.”
“You think?”
“I’m not proud of it, but I bought the shipyard to...get even with someone.”
He had her attention now. Her eyes flared with smoke and fire. “Who could have hurt you so much that you’d come back here to ruin lives?”
Tomas turned away from the scorn and disappointment he saw on her face. Laying his hands over the tailgate of the truck, he stared out across the prim, immaculate yard. “My father,” he said.
Callie let out a gasp. “Your father? Does he live here, work at the shipyard? What’s going on, Tomas?”
“I didn’t want to involve you,” he replied. “I won’t involve you. But just know that I didn’t follow through with my ambitious need to get back at him.”
“Does he live in Fleur?” she asked again, her hand near his on the tarnished truck.
Tomas swallowed the last of his resolve. If he couldn’t trust this woman, he’d never trust anyone. “No. He used to live here, but...he’s in New Orleans now.”
“Tomas?” She reached out her hand toward him. “Tomas?”
“I shouldn’t have told you that.” He turned to go back to the house.
“Tomas, don’t walk away from me. I can be a good listener, too.”
He pivoted back to stare at her. “I don’t want to talk about this. Not yet.” He put his hands in his jeans’ pockets. “Callie, remember I stayed with my wife when I could have left. And now, because of you, I’m letting go of some of my old grudges. I don’t know why I want to impress you so much, but I do. Just remember that.”
“Hey, you don’t have to impress me,” she called after him. “But you do need to be honest with me.”
“I’m sorry.” He turned and hurried toward the house, toward the refuge that had turned into a prison. Why had he bought this big old house anyway? To show everyone that he’d gone from being a lonely loser to a successful, wealthy businessman? None of these people even knew who he was or remembered anything about his mother and him, so how could he blame them now?
What did any of that matter if he could never have the things he’d craved all of his life—a home, someone to love, and now, Callie?
What did any of this matter without a woman like her?
* * *
Callie toweled her wet hair and tugged her old chenille robe around her shoulders. The shower had soothed her sore muscles, but her nerves were still scattered and on edge.
“His father.”
She couldn’t get that out of her mind. And she didn’t remember any Delacortes living here. Maybe she could do some research and find out the truth. Why the need for revenge? What could a father possibly do to a son to make him feel that way?
Nick had told her Tomas had never known his father. Was that his reason for all of this? To get even with a man who’d abandoned him?
Her cell phone rang and Callie moaned. “No, I just want to eat some soup and go to bed.”
But she had to answer. It could be one of her sisters having a meltdown, or her father needing some company.
Glancing around her plant-filled bedroom, she finally found her phone near her purse on the old oak dresser. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
“I want to take you out to dinner tonight.”
Tomas. “Why?” she asked, surprised.
“So we can have some real time together, without teenagers or mud or manure or Elvis. Just us.”
The thrill tickling her spine caused her to quip, “I like dogs and teenagers and mud. And I’m used to dealing with...manure.”
“I can tell that, but...I want to take you to dinner anyway, to celebrate the garden makeover. You did a great job. Every time I walk through my yard, I’ll think of you.”
She closed her eyes to that sweet revelation. “I’m not hungry.” Her stomach growled in protest.
“Callie, please?”
“Where are we going?”
“Wear something pretty. Your favorite cocktail dress.”
“I don’t have a lot of cocktail dresses, Tomas.”
“It doesn’t matter. Just get dressed. I’ll come and pick you up.”
“Do you know where I live?”
“Yes. You live between your father’s house and the nursery, not far from where Alma lives but on the way out of town, right?”
“About two blocks from Alma, yes. The white—”
“The white house with the big front porch that has two ferns by the front door. And an old oak in the front yard.”
“That’s the house, yes.”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
Callie hung up, still stunned at how the man had managed to get her to agree to dinner before she’d even said yes.
But...if he was willing to open up to her, to talk to her, maybe, just maybe, she should go to dinner with Tomas.
“God, I know I’m supposed to be Your earthen vessel. I understand I’m supposed to be an example to others who are suffering or in need. But am I the right one for this particular man? Can I really help Tomas Delacorte?”
As she hurried to find a decent dress, Callie stopped and listened to the silence between her heartbeats. And she remembered Tomas’s words to her earlier. He’d changed his plans for the shipyard.
“Because of you, Callie.”
She prayed that maybe he’d also have a change inside his heart, where he hurt. Could she help Tomas with that?
“Because of You, Lord, I’ve seen grace and peace. Please let me help Tomas find both.”
But she had to wonder, what if it was too late to turn his heart around?
Chapter Ten
Callie immediately called Alma. “He wants to take me on a date. He told me to wear a cocktail dress. I don’t do cocktail.”
Alma did a little “hmm.” “Wear a church dress. You have some really pretty ones from Easters past.”
Callie tugged at her wet hair. “They’re old. I feel
so dowdy and washed-out.”
“You are not dowdy, and you surely are not washed-out,” her sister retorted. “Wear something floral. You look good in flowers.”
“Okay.” She hurried to the old armoire in the corner. “How about that one with the boatneck—you know, the sleeveless one with blue-and-green flowers and the full skirt? I have a wrap that matches it.”
“Perfect. More lemonade than cocktail, but then you are a lemonade kind of woman.”
“Yes. Yes, I am. And if he doesn’t like it, well—”
“He’ll like it.” Alma chuckled. Then she started singing. “Callie’s got a date.”
“Don’t,” Callie replied. “And don’t call Brenna. She’s on her honeymoon. She’d feel inclined to call me and give me specific instructions and that would just make me even more nervous.”
“You’re no fun,” Alma replied. “Call me later. I want details.”
Callie hung up and rushed around to dry her hair and slap on some makeup and scented lotion. Then she tugged on the dress and her mother’s pearls, grabbed her white kitten-heeled sandals and a shawl and took a deep breath.
Staring at herself in the standing oval mirror, she did a low groan. “Not very chic, but doable.”
Elvis sauntered into her bedroom and barked his approval.
She wished she’d had time to put her hair up, but it would just have to twist and curl around her shoulders.
Five minutes later, she heard a knock at the door. Elvis headed that way, his bark low.
Rushing then slowing herself down, Callie took another breath and willed her heart to stop that bashing against her ribs thing. But when she opened the door and saw him standing there in a dark sports coat over a crisp white shirt and with no tie, she had to swallow and talk to her heart again.
The man did dress to impress.
“Hello,” he said, his gaze roving over her with what looked like appreciation.
“Hi,” she replied, shy now. “Come in.”
He did and he took his time glancing around her big open living room. “Nice.”
“Thanks.” She loved her little craftsman cottage with the mismatched furniture and cozy rooms. It had a lot of nooks and crannies where she could set whatnots and knickknacks right along with fresh flowers and houseplants.
He reached down to pet Elvis. “Your home smells as good as you.”
She smiled. “Thank you. Would you like to sit? Do you want some iced tea?”
He shook his head. “No. If you’re ready, we can go.”
“Okay.” She went to put on her wrap, but he took it from her and gently placed it over her bare shoulders.
“You look great.”
She turned toward him. “I...I’m not a fancy dresser.”
“But you sure know how to wear a dress.”
She’d take that as a compliment.
After bribing Elvis into his big dog bed with a treat, she waved bye to her woofing dog and headed out the door, her mind reeling between prayers for guidance and imaginative scenarios for a romantic dinner. And because it had been such a long time since she’d actually been on a romantic dinner date, she smiled and decided to go with the flow. She wouldn’t worry about work or her health or her follow-up talk with the doctor tomorrow. Just routine, the nurse had told her when she’d called earlier today. Just to be sure, Alma had assured her.
Please let me relax and enjoy myself, she prayed.
Just don’t let me be an idiot, Lord.
* * *
Tomas eased the car into First as he maneuvered it back on the highway. “Are you comfortable?”
“Uh, yes.” Callie grinned over at him. “Nice ride.”
“Thanks. I thought maybe later we could put the top down and take a drive along the waterway.”
“That would be nice.” She watched the road. “Where are we going?”
He kept his eyes on that road. “It’s a surprise.”
“Well, you are a man of mystery.”
“You think so?”
“Yes.” She turned to him, her eyes illuminated by the dashboard panel and moonlight. “Tomas, thank you for telling me about your father. I won’t pressure you, but...I told you I’m a good listener. If you ever want to tell me the whole story.”
He gave her a quick glance. “I appreciate that, but tonight, let’s just forget about all my baggage and focus on having a nice, quiet dinner.”
He intended to focus on her. Callie. In his car. At his dinner table. In his life.
“I think I can do that,” she replied, laying her head back against the leather seat. “Or...I might fall asleep. I’m really tired today for some reason.”
“You work too hard.”
“Don’t we all?”
He nodded at that. “Yes. I live for my work, but now that I’ll be living in Fleur for a while, I think I’ll slow down a little.”
“Take some time to stop and smell the roses, maybe?” She put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I forgot. You don’t like roses.”
“No, I don’t—too many bad memories. But thanks to you, I’ll have the scents of jasmine and honeysuckle and gardenias all around me. To remind me of you.”
She tilted her head. “That was my devious plan.”
He had to laugh at her humor. “Not so devious. But very smart. You make me feel good, Callie.”
She gave him an impish smile. “Another part of my overall plan. You need to laugh more, you know.”
“Well, you do make me laugh.”
She grinned then noticed the road signs. “Hey, we’re headed away from town.”
“Yes.”
Leaning in, she stared over at him. “Are you kidnapping me, Mr. Delacorte?”
“Yes. For a few hours at least.”
* * *
When he pulled the sleek two-seater up to Fleur House, Callie turned to face him. “Tomas, what’s going on?”
He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he got out of the car and came around to help her out. “I’m taking you to dinner, as planned.”
Callie glanced up at the house. It shimmered with sweet light as the sun faded behind it and the gloaming came through the fresh evening air. “Well, it does look beautiful at night now. It’s not dark and dreary anymore. I see a lamp in the window.”
He gave her another searching gaze. “Yes, we have lots of lamps, and Margie and Eunice go around and turn them all on. It occurred to me that you’ve never seen my home at night.”
“Uh, no. I haven’t.” She let him take her arm. “I’ve always wanted the complete tour, but I was usually too dirty and muddy to ask.”
“You clean up nicely, so I think tonight you can see the whole place.” His hand on her elbow, he added, “But right now, let’s eat. I’m starved.”
“Okay. Me, too.” Only she was really too nervous to eat.
When he started toward the gazebo instead of the house, she almost protested. Until she saw the colorful Japanese lanterns someone had strung across the rounded structure.
One little gasp on that.
Then she saw the table set in the middle of the gazebo, complete with a white linen-and-lace tablecloth, candles and real china and silverware.
Another gasp of surprise. “Tomas?”
“I even sprayed for mosquitoes and set out the Tiki lights,” he said in response.
She smelled the citronella right along with the nearby gardenias. “You thought of everything, didn’t you?”
“With a little help from Margie and Eunice.”
She glanced around. “Where are our chaperones, anyway?”
“Book club,” he replied. “At Winnie’s house.”
Callie also smelled a matchmaking conspiracy. “Oh, I see. Funny, I didn’t know Winnie had sta
rted a book club.”
His eyes twinkled. “Yes. Something about revisiting Wuthering Heights.”
“Uh-huh.” Her eyes pricked with tears. She had the best friends in the world, including her new friends Margie and Eunice. But she’d certainly have to fuss at them for this little setup. “What’s for dinner?”
He took her by the hand and pulled out a chair. “Your favorites from what I could find out—shrimp creole from Alma’s kitchen, a garden salad with freshly made oil and vinegar dressing, crescent rolls and for dessert—”
“Alma’s crème brûlée?” she finished, clapping her hands when he replaced the lid.
“I take it that’s a good thing,” he said, smiling as he helped her with her chair. “That one was tricky. Alma insisted we needed to wait until the last minute to burn the top.”
So her sister had been in on this, too. And Alma had acted so surprised when she’d called for advice.
“She’s a stickler for details,” Callie said, still amazed that he’d gone to all of this trouble and that everyone had helped him. “I don’t know what to say. I would have been happy with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
“Exactly,” he said as he sat down across from her and poured some sparkling water into crystal goblets. “You deserve more, Callie.”
Callie wondered about that. “I don’t think so. I’m content with what I have, most days.”
He learned forward to take the covers off their plates. “And what about the other days, the days when you feel as if you might come out of your skin?”
Shocked, she tried to laugh. “Oh, so you have those days, too?”
“Pretty much.” He drank some water. “Would you like to say grace before we eat?”
Touched, she nodded. “If I can find the words.”
But she somehow did find the words. “I thank You, Lord, for this day, for this beautiful sunset, for this food, and mostly, for this man. Guide us, Lord. Show us the way. Nourish our bodies and our souls. Amen.”
When she finished, her throat caught with emotion, she lifted her gaze toward Tomas.
“Are you really thankful for me?” he asked, his expression all humility.
