Rose

by Chris Keniston

  Rose slapped her hands together in excitement. “You don’t think it’s Old Blue, do you?”

  “I doubt it.” He shook his head, determined not to lose this guy. “This fish is putting up a fight but nothing like I’d have with a fish as big as Old Blue.”

  Finally, he won. Reeling in the line, the fish broke the surface, rising up before him.

  “Oh my gosh,” Rose exclaimed.

  A satisfied grin tugged at his cheeks. “I know. This guy’s got to be at least ten pounds.”

  “No,” she said more forcefully. “That.”

  Before Logan could follow the direction she pointed at or finish reeling in his catch, wings spread wide, an eagle swooped down low, snatched the fish with his claws, and without slowing down, soared to the sky again. “Oh, hell.”

  “Wow.”

  He turned to face her. Wide, beautiful green eyes filled with awe, coupled with a kissable mouth hanging slightly open, and suddenly he didn’t care so much that the eagle had stolen his best catch of the day. As a matter of fact, if it would give Rose that much pleasure, he’d gladly let every bird on the mountain steal all his fish.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Feeling, as her Grams would say, dead and too dumb to fall over, Rose sank into the porch rocker and debated how badly she wanted to put her feet up. The nearest ottoman was across the porch. It didn’t take long for keeping her feet on the floor rather than fetching the ottoman to win her mind’s inner battle. “I feel like that was the longest two hours of my life.”

  “Why is that, dear?” Grams didn’t bother looking at her granddaughter. Fiona Hart had progressed from braiding fabric scraps to tying the long strands together in a circle. Every time the beloved grandmother looked up, something would go wrong. As a result, Rose and her cousins had quickly grown accustomed to conversing with the top of their grandmother’s head.

  “Two hours weighing fish after fish after fish. And some of those men, jeez.” Rose sighed. “You’d think a tenth of a pound were a matter of life and death.”

  “You know how men and their hobbies are.” Grams continued to wield the longest needle Rose had ever seen.

  With her Grams’ track record, Rose was actually afraid the woman might sew herself to the rug.

  “I do believe it brings out the conquering spirit as much as a football championship. Friday night lights are nothing compared to a man and his fishing prowess.”

  Rose hadn’t thought her grandmother knew anything about football and Friday night lights. Then again, Fiona Hart had always been a marvel, why should this subject be any different. Speaking of prowess. “How’s the rug coming?”

  “I’m not sure why, maybe it’s the size of the needle, but sewing this seems less challenging than quilting.”

  “The needle is easier to see.” And, Rose would think, easier to sew yourself to something, but what did she know.

  “It certainly is a world easier than those nasty lures.”

  “Lures?”

  “Yes. Years ago. For your grandfather.” Fiona frowned, stabbing more forcefully at a swath of fabric.

  Somehow, Rose was fairly positive she was missing something. “Lures for the General?”

  “They were always so pretty. I thought it would be fun to make him a few for his birthday. Men seemed to treasure their favorite lures.”

  Fishing. They were still talking fishing. While the conversation made more sense, the thought of her grandmother and sharp objects like hooks and needles made Rose’s blood run cold.

  “A few turned out rather nicely, I thought. Did you know fish love shiny things?”

  Rose shook her head. The day she’d gone fishing with her grandfather he’d used live bait. The memory of the squirmy little critters was enough to give her the heebie-jeebies.

  “Anything really. Bottle caps, beads, coins. Of course we’d have to tie them to something with wire. Corks were my favorite. Easy on the hands.” Fiona paused and glanced up. “Loved working with the beads and feathers.”

  Feathers? Feathers weren’t shiny. Maybe Rose needed a footrest and a drink. Then it wouldn’t matter what fish liked.

  “But for some reason your grandfather switched to live bait and I had no reason to work with the lures anymore.” Grams returned her attention to the rug, a frown deepening between her brows.

  Rose didn’t dare ask what had gone wrong with this project to cause the sour expression.

  “Uh oh.” Lucy stepped onto the porch. “Is that rain?”

  Rose opened her eyes. Darn, it was.

  Fiona glanced outside. “Forecaster on the news said it’s going to lighten up before morning.”

  “I certainly hope so.” Rose sighed.

  “I’m sure it will be fine. At least it’s not very heavy.” A glass of lemonade in each hand, Lucy handed one to Rose. “What time do you have to be at the Inn?”

  “Thanks. And I don’t.” By the end of last night, they’d worked out a system so close to foolproof that anyone could make sense of it. Fortunately, she didn’t have to worry about just anyone. Since both Cindy and Lily worked in town, they would take care of dispersing the day’s door prizes—she flipped her wrist and glanced at the time—as of ten minutes ago. If she didn’t hear from her cousins in the next few minutes, she would assume all was well. Tomorrow would be the big day. Last day registrants, another day of fishing, weighing, and hopefully limited mediation, all culminating with a banquet, awards, and the auction. Yep, she was going to have her hands full. She’d kill to have her assistant at her side now.

  The family’s longtime housekeeper didn’t utter a word. One eyebrow arched higher than the other spoke volumes. She thought Rose should be there.

  “Cindy and Lily are handling it,” Rose explained. “There aren’t as many to disperse as last night so it should be easy work for them.”

  “If you say so.” Lucy shrugged and handed the other lemonade to Grams. “As long as you’re here, supper will be served in about twenty minutes.”

  Supper. Rose resisted the urge to glance in the direction of Logan’s cabin.

  “Thank you, Lucy. This always hits the spot.” Grams took a long swallow and then held up her handy work. Rose had a feeling there weren’t supposed to be quite so many gaps, but for a first attempt it wasn’t half bad. Maybe Grams had finally found her talent.

  “It’s better,” Lucy said softly.

  Better?

  “We might be able to use this one,” Grams responded.

  “This one?” Rose voiced out loud. “How many do you have?”

  “This makes four,” Grams offered.

  Oh, dear. Rose had a feeling rag rugs would soon be a thing of her grandmother’s past, no matter how much fabric she had stashed in her craft room. And paints. And yarn. Oh, did the woman have an eternal supply of yarn. Even after she’d stopped knitting or crocheting, Grams and the General would make a monthly trek to the specialty shop outside Boston. From the glimpse Rose had gotten earlier in the week of the storage closet, Grams clearly couldn’t resist the stuff, and Rose suspected soon the family would be up to their eyeballs in yarn snowballs. Though now that she thought about it, no one had mentioned the specialty shop for some time. Maybe her grandmother had finally lost the penchant for yarn shopping.

  Speaking of penchants, the porch door squeaked, inching open, and tall, dark and Texan walked onto the porch. Just her luck, a man finally makes her heart dance by merely breathing, whose company she actually enjoyed, and he had to live halfway across the country. What was the saying: all good things must come to an end. Too bad.

  “Evening,” Logan directed to everyone within earshot.

  “How did you do?” Lucy asked.

  “They don’t have the tallies posted yet, but I had the most weight of the handful of guys I could hear who went before me.”

  “Ooh. Isn’t that nice.” Grams continued her efforts with the rug.

  Rose nodded and Lucy scurried away, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll bring you so
me lemonade. Fresh squeezed too.”

  “That woman is spoiling me.” Logan straddled the chair closest to Rose. “Do you think if I proposed she’d be willing to move to Texas?”

  Chuckling, Rose did her best to keep a straight face. “It won’t be her first.”

  “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” Logan smiled. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

  Stuck with him. Why did that not sound a bad thing at all?

  * * * *

  Only a week ago Logan was dreading being stuck here at the lake on his own and now he couldn’t think of any place he’d rather be.

  “I guess with the tournament, the evening card game is on hold?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. You never know who’s going to show up.” Fiona Hart put her project aside and craned her neck to look into the foyer.”

  “So tell me, Logan.” Fiona Hart smiled up without raising her head. “Did you catch Old Blue?”

  He shook his head. “Though I heard someone named Ned claims to have hooked him and then he broke loose.”

  “Pish posh,” Fiona sputtered. “That man’s fish stories are as long as his boat.”

  “I’m kind of glad no one caught him.” Rose leaned back. “Even if it was a catch and release tournament, I’d hate for something to happen to him. He’s such a legend around here.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Fiona paused her work and glanced toward the doorway. “I do believe your grandfather has lost track of time. That computer can be intoxicating.”

  “Cell phones too,” Rose added. “There are days I wonder why the heck people pay to come to an art museum if they don’t lift their noses out of their phones.”

  He certainly wouldn’t disagree, though in his case that cell phone addiction had proved quite lucrative and he’d liked to think he’d learned a little something about putting his techno gadgets away and just enjoying the world around him.

  Footsteps accompanied by four-footed paws clacking on hardwood drifted onto the porch, bringing a smile to his hostess’ face. “There you are, dear.”

  “Was just on the phone with Ralph. He’s going to stay in town this evening. Going to dinner with Ned and Nadine.” The General turned to Logan. “And I understand congratulations are in order.”

  “Sir?”

  “You’re in the top five.”

  “Oh, isn’t that lovely,” Fiona Hart cooed, once again returning to work on her rug.

  “How do you know?” Rose frowned at her grandfather. “The official tallies aren’t supposed to be posted until later tonight.”

  General Hart made little effort to smother his amusement. “Rose, every member of the tournament committee is one of my dearest friends.”

  “And blabbermouths,” she huffed before smiling. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks, the scales were good to me. Which reminds me.” Logan retrieved the paper he’d carried all afternoon from his breast pocket, laid it on the table in front of the General, and carefully unfolded it. “This was on a fish I caught today. I don’t know how we missed it, but the scale guy noticed it when they were weighing my catch.”

  “That was on a fish?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Not in it?”

  “No, sir. It was hooked deep in the fish’s tail. Looks like it’s been there a good long time. A few of the men figured maybe the fish shook it loose from his mouth and it slipped to his tail.”

  Rose reached out and lifted the bead clad lure. “Oh, how pretty. This is rather unusual, isn’t it?”

  Glancing up from her project, Fiona Hart’s eyes circled round. “Oh, my.” Stabbing the needle into the rag strip, she reached forward slowly and lifted the lure to the light. “Aunt Emma’s earring.”

  “Excuse me?” Logan asked.

  “I was just telling my granddaughter. I used to make lures for my husband.”

  The General blinked, maintaining his eyelids shut for a fraction longer than usual. For an instant, Logan thought he saw relief in the man’s eyes.

  “That was right about the time I lost one of my Aunt Emma’s earrings. They were my favorite too. It must have gotten snagged on the lure and I didn’t notice.”

  “I remember, dear.” The General blinked again. “That was right about the time your finger got infected from a hook jab.”

  “Yes. Not long after that you switched to live bait.”

  Now it all made sense to Logan. To spare his wife any further injury indulging his hobby, the man had switched to live bait. Every day he liked the General more than the day before. His grandfather and this man did sneaky well.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You look amazing.”

  “Thank you.” Heaven knows Rose had spent way more time in front of the mirror and discarded more clothing options than she normally would have if Logan Buchanan wasn’t attending tonight’s final event. Unlike two hours ago, now she was sure that settling on the chiffon gown with the sweetheart neckline, cap sleeves, and yards of swirling fabric had been the right choice.

  “Everything looks perfect.” Logan casually scanned the crowded hall. “And the silent auction seems very popular.”

  “I hope so. The wildlife center is a good cause. The new hospital received so many donations from all over New England that it’s going to open ahead of schedule, but not as many people get sentimental over saving jealous pelicans.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Rose waved her hand. “Never mind, I’m a little nervous.”

  “Here.” Logan tugged her into his personal space and placed a slow, gentle kiss on her cheek. “For good luck.”

  She smiled. “I may need a few more of those.”

  “Any time.” He grinned back.

  “Rose!” Nadine came rushing across the floor, pivoting around tables, and practically leaping over chairs. “We have a problem.”

  The four most terrifying words on the night of a big event. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just heard over the police scan.”

  “You’re listening to the scan now?” Rose squeaked.

  Nadine rolled her eyes. “Be glad I did. We’ve got a heads up.”

  “Nadine, would you please skip a chapter and get to the epilogue.”

  “There’s been an accident about ten minutes south of town. Big pile up. One car with Boston license plates.”

  Quickly Rose ran an inventory of any family members that would have Boston plates.

  “The auctioneer is on his way to the hospital.”

  Auctioneer. Rose didn’t know if she should sigh with relief that her family was well, or crawl into a corner and cry. “Great. Just great.”

  “I know, honey. What do you want me to do?”

  “I don’t suppose you have a spare auctioneer on speed dial.”

  Poor Nadine looked stricken. “I can get Judge Callahan to lend us his gavel. Will that help?”

  Her no tumbled over Logan’s yes.

  “Are you crazy?” she asked him. “What good is a gavel without an auctioneer?”

  “You do it.” He actually said that with a straight face.

  “You are crazy.” She sucked in a deep breath through her nose and out through her mouth. Just the way Violet had taught her. It wasn’t helping.

  Logan grabbed hold of her hand. “Think about it. Everyone from town loves you and your family, and all the fishermen are mostly here to drink and have a good time.”

  “None of that is making me feel any better. Except maybe the drink part. I might have to change my policy of imbibing while on the clock.”

  “I’m serious. You are a formidable woman.”

  “Listen to him.” Nadine waved a thumb in Logan’s direction. “The man is smarter than he looks.”

  Rose nearly spit with laughter at the startled look on Logan’s face. She could almost see the cogs in his mind turning as he debated whether to take issue with the pseudo insult or continue on his crazed mission for her to replace the auctioneer. The way he barely shook his head before f
acing her again told her which argument had won.

  “You are good with people, you are not afraid of crowds, you have a sense of humor, and when in command, you can talk pretty fast.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Honey.” Nadine placed a hand on her forearm. “Like it or not, you’re a city girl and all of you can talk fast.”

  “Not that fast.”

  “Fast enough,” Nadine added.

  “I don’t know.” Was she actually considering this? Could she pull it off? No. It was crazy.

  “You can,” Logan said.

  What? Was the man a mind reader now too?

  “I’ll be here if you need me.”

  A lot of good that would do her. She’d probably see him in the audience and all intelligent thought would spill out her ears again. Just look at her now. He was standing too close. Her synapses had to be frying because she was actually considering doing as he said.

  “We’ll give away a few rounds of drinks,” Nadine suggested. “Liquor ‘em up good and they’ll never know you’re not the real thing.”

  Rose shot her grandparents’ friend an are-you-kidding glare.

  “Hey, you’re the fundraising pro. At least it will loosen their wallets,” Nadine defended.

  That much was true.

  “You can do it.” Logan squeezed her hand and nodded. “I know you can.”

  Damn that man and her rattled brains. Rose sucked in a deep breath, waited for sanity to settle in, and when no brilliant ideas came to mind, she exhaled and nodded her head. “For better or worse, I hope you’re right.

  * * * *

  So did he. First thing on Logan’s agenda, he needed to pay for a round of drinks for the house. He had no idea what she meant by jealous pelicans, but all that mattered to him was that this charity mattered to her. He was pretty sure at least Lucy would approve. Wasn’t it Dolly Levi who had said money, like manure, should be spread around to help young things grow?

  “You look rather serious.” The General came to his side and raised a glass to him. “Smile. It’s a good night. Win or lose, you did well. Your grandfather would be pleased.”