Rose

by Chris Keniston

  This morning he decided to focus on two things only. Rose and the fish. He started by trying the fishing spot once again that Mrs. Hart had suggested upon his arrival two days ago. He should have known to trust a loving grandmother, even if she wasn’t his grandmother. Since this time he wasn’t splashing around having been pulled into the water, the fish were darn happy to cooperate. He’d caught and released six good size bass, not including the few too small for legalities, keeping only one of his catch for a nice lunch.

  If the plan was to cook his fish, he’d need a few more groceries than the basics the cottage stocked. For the short ride back to town, he’d debated taking advantage of the bare cupboards as an excuse to head to the main house and borrow the proverbial cup of sugar and hopefully run into Rose—his second agenda for the day—but a picture of her working on the porch yesterday came to mind, followed by his mother’s voice urging him to be thoughtful of others. No matter how much he’d been itching to hear Rose’s voice and laughter, he opted to stop by the local grocery instead.

  “Top of the morning to you,” a sweet voice called to him as he came through the door.

  “Good morning.”

  “Been fishing, have you?”

  He probably did look like a character from the Andy Griffith show, his favorite hat, the vest, and even though it wasn’t made of flannel, his shirt was the stereotypical required plaid pattern. “The lake was good to me.”

  The woman smiled, and the light from the window beaming behind her gave her a surreal glow. She looked like the portrait of an angel worthy of hanging in any famous gallery. “Did you catch Old Blue?”

  Walking down the aisle with miscellaneous dry goods, he paused to look up. “Old Blue?”

  “Surely someone has mentioned Blue to you.”

  He grabbed a jar of minced garlic and shook his head. “Can’t say that they have.”

  “Well, Old Blue has been around for as long as I can remember. Anglers have been filling out surveys for the fish and game commission for decades now. Every few years, one fish keeps popping up, getting bigger and bigger.”

  “Old Blue?” It wasn’t really a question.

  “Yep. Hard to say exactly how much bigger or if it’s still him cause if anyone gets him to take the bait, the line breaks more often than not. Last time anyone had him long enough to weigh in was about five, maybe six years ago. Blue was already at sixty-one pounds.”

  Logan blew out a sharp whistle.

  “That pretty much sums it up.” The woman bobbed her head. “Folks figure by now he’s got to be close enough to break the state record for largest Striped Bass, maybe even the world record. I suspect that’s why the sign up for this tournament is so high even though it’s new.”

  Things were making a lot of sense. Getting up before dawn when the stripers were feeding closer to the surface was something he did often, but he might want to hang out more at dusk now that he knew about Old Blue. Maybe even skip cooking his catch and just turn himself around to search out the deepest hot spot on the lake.

  “If you’re thinking of heading back out, I wouldn’t.”

  His head snapped around to face her. Was she a mind reader?

  “Only time anyone has reeled that fella in has been in the morning. Not much of a night owl apparently.”

  “I see.” He tossed the garlic into a handheld basket and walked over to the small display of produce. It all looked nice and fresh, probably grown in a nearby garden, but his mind kept drifting away to the other night, eating on his porch with Rose. Maybe he should just stick the fish in the fridge and invite her out to dinner.

  “You enjoying your stay at Hart Land?”

  Granted, they weren’t far from the gorgeous old Victorian and the surrounding cottages, but they weren’t that far from the Hilltop Inn closer to town either, and as far as he knew, there were smaller inns dotting the area all filled with reservations from fisherman. His thoughts jumped back to what were the odds this woman could read his mind before he decided a lucky guess was more likely. “Yes.” More than he’d expected. Maybe dinner out was a bit much and he could invite Rose to join him at the cabin for a fresh fish dinner. He didn’t cook like Lucy, but it was hard to ruin grilling fresh bass. Especially with fresh herbs. No. He shook his head. As much as he’d enjoyed their time on the porch the other night, he had to leave her alone. Let her get her work done. Maybe after the tourney. He could stay an extra day or so.

  He blew out a soft sigh. Wasn’t he presuming a lot. Not only that Rose would be staying on after the tourney, but that she’d want to spend what was left of real down time with him.

  “By the way,” the angelic woman came around from behind the counter and stuck her hand out, “I’m Katie O’Leary.”

  “Logan Buchanan,” he responded, taking the proffered hand. “A pleasure.”

  “I have an idea.” She spun around and returned to her spot. “I bet if you take this order back to Lucy and mention your catch of the day, she’d probably offer to cook it up for you and,” her smile widened, “odds would be even better she’ll ask you to join the whole family for dinner.”

  Okay, that did it. Katie had to be a mind reader. No one was that lucky.

  “Here you go.” She pushed the box with his purchases forward. “Still want the garlic?”

  He glanced down at his basket. Despite walking up and down nearly every corner of the small store, he’d done more thinking about his time with Rose than on cooking supper. Sorry Mom, but looks like being thoughtful is going to take a back seat to any chance of spending a little more time with Rose Preston.

  * * * *

  Pushing to her feet, Rose twisted left, then right, stood on one foot pulling the other against her rear then did the same with the other, and finally hung her arm over her shoulder, pulling one elbow close to her ear and then the other. A few seconds of easy stretches every hour or so made her life much less achy. Her sister Violet had taught her that little trick after surviving her first exhibit on the new job.

  Somehow she’d managed to turn one portable card table into a mountain of paperwork. She’d spent the better part of yesterday and today on the phone confirming and reconfirming every possible detail. Even the things she wasn’t technically responsible for, she followed up with the coordinators to reassure herself. This event meant so much to her grandfather and her cousin Cindy that she wanted to make sure everything went off without a hitch. In a couple of days, the fishermen would be descending on Lawford Mountain like biblical locusts. Some had probably already arrived to scope out the lay of the land.

  That brought one tall cowboy to mind. All day yesterday, she’d battled the urge to find any excuse to knock on his door. When dinnertime had rolled around, she’d expected her grandfather to have invited his friend’s grandson to dinner with the family, but nope. Then she thought for sure Lucy would fix him a tray like she had the night before, and she’d been ready all through supper to casually volunteer as room service again. Except Lucy hadn’t prepared anything for him, and even though the General mentioned inviting him to play cards, he had not joined them for that event either.

  Now she considered how awkward would it be if she simply showed up on his doorstep this evening bearing some of Lily’s almond cookies that he seemed to like. Or, what if she were to extend an invitation to join the family for dinner. She shook her head. That’s all she needed. To alert Lucy’s matchmaking instincts, not to mention create fodder for the family and any friends within earshot. The card playing Merry Widows coming to mind. Those ladies gave the old joke telegraph, telephone, and tell a woman new life. No doubt, within hours of inviting him to dinner, the entire town will be privy to the invite, they’d probably have her engaged, married, and pregnant before morning.

  About to take her seat and begin going over the checklist in the next section of her binder, the sound of a car door slamming collided with an ear-piercing scream from inside the house. The latter made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, leavin
g her no time to contemplate how had she not heard the car drive up to the front of the house in the first place. A second desperate cry of “Lucy” propelled her away from her chair and sent her bolting inside.

  The sight of her grandmother standing on a kitchen chair, literally clutching her pearls, and Lucy backed into the corner cabinets jabbing a broom at the countertop brought her to a screeching halt.

  “What’s the matter?” A deep, now familiar voice floated over her shoulder. Logan must’ve heard the screams as well. It had probably been his car door that she’d heard slam shut. Rather ironic when you stop to think that daydreaming about him was the whole reason she hadn’t heard the car pull up in the first place. Didn’t life have an interesting sense of humor?

  “Oh, thank God.” Grams blew a deep shoulder-relaxing breath and pointed at Lucy.

  On the other hand, their normally nonplused housekeeper was still white as a well-bleached sheet and frantically waving the broom around. “I left my phone by the sink,” she huffed. “I thought for sure he was going to eat it, or me, before I could call for help.” She dared a glance in Rose’s direction. “Where the hell did that thing come from?”

  Only now did she turn her attention to the sink and take a step back, slamming into the hard chest behind her. “Oh my.”

  Logan’s hands shackled around her arms, holding her steady. “I’d say Oh my about covers it.” His hands loosened and brushed lightly down her forearms, patting her reassuringly before stepping around her for a better look and slowly inching forward.

  She didn’t know what had her heart racing faster, the sight of a massive snake curled up in the sink, or the gentle feel of Logan’s comforting fingers.

  “What are you doing?” Lucy shouted at Logan.

  “Getting a closer look.” The man had the nerve to chuckle before calmly striding up to the sink, reaching in, and grabbing the slimy thing by either end and lifted what must have been at least four feet of ugly up into the air. “I’d venture a guess that somebody’s pet boa constrictor escaped and found its way into your pipes.”

  Still pointing the broom at him and the snake as if it were a lethal weapon, none of the color had returned to Lucy’s face. “Don’t those things eat people?”

  Logan had the good grace to muffle his amusement. “In order to do that it would have to wrap himself around you and squeeze you to death first. Fortunately, this guy is too little to do that.”

  Lucy didn’t look terrible convinced, but her grandmother seemed a little more reassured. “You’re positive he isn’t one of those poisonous kinds of snakes?”

  “Yes ma’am.” He threw her a reassuring smile. “I’m from Texas. Ranch country. I’ve got a pretty good handle on what’s gonna kill my cows or me.”

  That seemed to be enough for Lucy to lower the broom to the ground and Grams to ease into the nearby chair, both breathing more easily.

  “Okay,” Lucy said. “Now what do we do with it?”

  Rose pulled her phone from her pocket. “I’ll call Cindy.”

  “You can call whoever you want.” Lucy waved a finger at Logan and the snake. “But I want that thing out of my kitchen. Now.”

  “I’m afraid I have to agree with her,” Grams said.

  “If one of you would bring me a pillowcase and a box, we can move him outside until someone more official comes to get him.”

  “I can handle that.” Rose tore off up the stairs and came back with both a pillowcase and one of her file boxes with a lid. For the first time in her life she’d merely dumped the thing on end without any regard to neatness or order and flew back down the stairs. Logan had moved to the back porch and both her grandmother and Lucy looked more like themselves. Especially Lucy, she was already scrubbing that sink within an inch of its life.

  “Here you go.” She handed him both items. Within minutes, the snake was secure in the pillowcase and resting in the box.

  “Just for good measure.” He flipped the small café table upside down and set it on top of the box.

  Only now did she breathe easily. Even though she held every confidence he knew what he was talking about, she was too much of a city girl to take any snake in stride.

  “Let’s get back inside and check on your grandmother and Lucy.” Placing his hand on the small of her back, he nudged her toward the door and once again her heart took off at the speed of a thoroughbred at the derby. Clearly the snake had little to do with her pulse racing.

  “You,” Lucy whirled around to face Logan, “may have anything you want for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the rest of your stay. I may even consider shipping meals to Texas after you leave if you’d like.”

  “And I’ll see to it that my granddaughter makes your favorite dessert,” Grams added. “Do you have one?”

  “Maybe something with rum in it,” Lucy suggested. “Lord knows about now I could use a shot of my sainted grandmother’s peppermint schnapps.”

  “Right about now I wouldn’t object to that either.” Grams smiled.

  Funny, Rose was thinking she could use a drink too, only something a whole lot cooler. Her gaze drifted to her tall Texan. On second thought, maybe not.

  Chapter Eight

  “I bid five.” The look of utter and complete frustration on his opponent’s face made Logan smile. Normally he wasn’t an aggressive bidder in whist, but lady luck seemed terribly enamored with him today.

  Chuckling, the General shook his head. “You can play at my table any time you like, young man.”

  “Back at you, sir.” He’d joined the card game over an hour ago and he and the General had won every hand since. If he were a betting man, it would probably have been enough to make him try his luck with the lottery. Though he supposed stumbling into that kind of luck only struck a man once in his lifetime.

  “Are you going to stare at those cards all night or are you going to play?” Ralph peered at him from over the rim of his glasses. The man was a natural born storyteller and tonight was no exception. Whether just shooting the breeze or an outright effort to throw him and the General off their stride Logan wasn’t sure, but either way, Ralph’s impatience was escalating. The interesting neighbor clearly had grown tired of losing.

  Logan discarded four cards. “Hearts are trump.” From the unsolicited groan that came from Ralph and his partner, the infamous Floyd the barber, Logan was willing to bet he probably should have bid higher than five. If he hadn’t been watching Rose from the corner of his eye, most of the night he probably would have better calculated his odds of winning with the hand he’d been dealt and perhaps attempted a six bid. But the truth was that the luck of the cards dealt bolstered by the General’s skill had been winning the rounds, not anything Logan was doing. His mind had mostly been on the pretty redhead focusing on the growing mounds of paper in front of her.

  The old screen door squeaked open and another redhead carrying a large white box backed onto the porch. “So, who is the conquering hero?”

  All the older men at the table glanced up and chorused, “Me.”

  Shaking her head, the woman marched to the main entryway of the house, pausing at Logan’s side. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Lily and I have been told that the women in my family are forever in your debt.”

  “That may be a slight exaggeration.” He really didn’t get why they were making such a fuss about this. It wasn’t like Lucy and Mrs. Hart had found a rattler at their feet.

  “When I’m requested to not only bring all the day’s leftovers from the bakery but to bring a double chocolate cake, something big is cooking. Or in this case, rescuing. Thank you.”

  “I didn’t do anything anyone else wouldn’t have done,” he insisted, not that any of the women on the porch were listening.

  “That’s right.” Ralph scowled at the card the General discarded and threw out a lowly two of clubs. “It’s times like today that my trusted shillelagh would have come in handy. I’d have clobbered that footless reptile good. He wouldn’t be scaring anymore fine lad
ies to death again.”

  “Where do you suppose he came from?” Rose lifted her gaze from the paper in her hand.

  The General rolled his eyes. “I can’t imagine whoever it is will be fessing up any time soon. No one on this mountain wants to scare my sweet Fiona to death.”

  “What about me?” Lucy came in and set a piece of freshly sliced chocolate cake beside Logan.

  “Sorry, Luce.” Floyd shook his head. “You may have many a fine quality, but I don’t think there is a soul on this mountain thinks of you as sweet.”

  Lucy didn’t bother responding; she merely shot Floyd a sideways glance before rolling her eyes.

  “Personally, I think y’all got off easy with the snake,” Thelma said from the other table. “Finding a harmless boa—”

  “Harmless,” Lucy scoffed.

  “I’m not saying that in the wild in a jungle somewhere that a full-grown boa wouldn’t be a problem I’m just saying, a trapped raccoon could have been much worse.”