Rose

by Chris Keniston

  “Thank you.” Logan looked over the man’s shoulder. Normally he would have loved to exchange stories of his grandfather, but he wanted to get to the bar tab before Nadine. “Do you know who the lead caterer is?”

  “Yes.” The General spun about. “Barb Miller is in charge.” He waved a finger at an older woman in black slacks and a black button-down dress shirt.

  “Got it. Give me a minute. And,” he paused already in motion, “thanks.”

  “Sure thing,” the General called after him.

  Across the hall he could see Nadine surveying the room, no doubt searching for the same person he was. Only he was already closing in on Barb. “Excuse me.”

  “Yes?” She looked up with a smile. “Do you need something?”

  “Actually, I do. I’d like to pick up the tab for a round of drinks.”

  “You would.” Her tone dripped with incredulity.

  “I would. And I’d like to remain anonymous. I’d rather no one found out who donated.”

  “Of course.” Barb smiled but he could see her calculating how to make her escape.

  “Maybe this will help.” Pulling his wallet from his pocket, he retrieved his black limitless credit card.

  Like a cartoon character, Barb’s eyes took over her face with shock. And even still, it took another fifteen minutes of fast talking before she finally agreed to run the card. Not until the surprisingly large by the glass price had been approved did she fall all over herself promising her eternal silence. He had a feeling if he’d asked for it, she might have thrown in her first born.

  A finger tapping on the mic reverberated in the noisy room.

  “Is it on?” Rose’s voice asked.

  Several key people nodded.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, the silent auction will be closing in fifteen minutes. Last chance to take these wonderful donations home with you tonight. Fifteen minutes. Thank you.”

  He stood in place, admiring the way her gown flowed as she walked across the stage. With every few steps, some person or other stopped her, chatted her up. Her smile never faltered. A time or two he heard her calm, reassuring laugh all the way where he stood. She could charm the skin off a snake and he meant that in a good way. When she reached the top of the steps, she paused to scan the room. His heart rate kicked up a notch as he thought how nice it would be if she were looking for him. Logic dictated she needed the caterer, or the lead volunteer, or a bartender, or maybe the judge and his gavel, but still it didn’t hurt to pretend for a little while she wanted him.

  “Can you imagine that?” Nadine came up behind him.

  Tearing his gaze away from Rose, he turned to Nadine. “Imagine what?”

  “Someone, an anonymous donor, paid for a good number of free drinks.”

  “Did they?” He hoped his surprise sounded sincere. “An animal lover?”

  “I suppose.” Nadine’s plastic smile told him she wasn’t convinced, or maybe it was her police background that made her generally suspicious of just about anyone.

  “There you are.” Rose tapped him on the shoulder.

  If he could have done a back flip and not look foolish, he would have. She’d been looking for him. “Right here. You’re doing great.”

  “Announcements and charming money away from people with too much of it is easy. It’s the next part that I’m not so sure about.”

  “Here.” Nadine grabbed a champagne glass from the tray of a passing waiter. “This will help.”

  Rose waived her hands in front of her face. “After the auction.”

  “If you say so.” Nadine shrugged and took a sip from the glass herself. “Good stuff.”

  “Do you have the gavel?” Rose asked.

  “Oops!” Nadine chuckled. “Be right back.”

  The woman scurried away and Rose shook her head. “That Merry Widows club can be dangerous.”

  “Merry Widows? Isn’t Nadine married to Ned?”

  Rose chuckled. “She is, but what’s a breathing husband among friends.”

  “I see.” He didn’t, but he’d learned a long time ago figuring out how a woman’s mind worked, any woman of any age, was not in his skill set. His father had taught him if Mama ain’t happy, nobody’s happy and Logan figured that was about as much as he needed to understand about women.

  “Here you go.” Nadine came hurrying back, waving the gavel in front of her.

  “I think I’m going to throw up,” Rose muttered as the gavel slapped against her palm.

  “You can do this,” he encouraged. If only she could see herself through his eyes. Quickly tapping and scrolling through his phone he scanned his options, downloaded, and handed her the phone. “This is a voice recognition app to help auctioneers keep track of the bidding. It should help.”

  Her hand flew to her chest and he wasn’t sure if she was going to laugh or throw up, but she slowly took the phone, shaking her head. “Only you.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Cindy’s voice came over the mic, “it’s my personal pleasure to thank you all for coming tonight.”

  While her cousin continued warming up the crowd with stories of the animals and the value of the wild life center, Rose took in several deep breaths and squeezed his hand.

  “Don’t forget to exhale. It doesn’t work if you don’t exhale. You’ll just pass out.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” she teased.

  He leaned over and kissed her on the check. “For good luck.”

  “Your auctioneer for the night, Rose Preston!”

  Applause filled the room as Rose made her way to the podium. She could do this.

  Rose described the first item up for auction. An eighteenth-century bed warmer. A bona fide antique very possibly from one of Paul Revere’s contemporaries. The bidding started at one hundred dollars and the room grew horribly quiet. It might have helped if she’d started with something the men wanted, like the antique fishing gear he’d donated, but a bed warmer it was. He raised his bidding card.

  The relieved smile that spread across Rose’s face was worth every penny that contraption would cost him.

  “One ten, do I hear one ten? Ladies and gentlemen, if nothing else I bet it makes great popcorn.”

  The room burst out in laughter and she managed to finagle two hundred dollars for the eighteenth-century popcorn maker.

  The next item went more smoothly but not high enough as far as he was concerned. A new strategy might be necessary. When someone took interest, and a moment of silence fell, he raised his card. Apparently, what he’d heard, that it’s the exhilaration of the competition that pushes people to spend too much at auctions, seemed to have merit. The room was filled with competitors and by the time the first edition of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn came up, he’d only accidentally bought two items he had no idea what to do with. All for a good cause.

  “We’ll start the bidding for this timeless treasure at five thousand dollars.”

  Immediately, Logan raised his card and the sweet smile she’d flashed him at his first bid had slowly slipped into a hint of a scowl as he bid on item after item. He couldn’t swear to it, but he was pretty sure the lady was concerned about his bank account.

  “I have five thousand, do I have six? Six, do I have seven?”

  Several bidders had joined the frenzy. Who knew there were so many literary lovers in the room? When the bidding reached fifteen thousand all but two people bowed out. A balding man sucking on an unlit cigar whose wife elbowed him with every price increase, and himself.

  “Sixteen thousand, I have sixteen. Seventeen.”

  Lightening cracked outside and a thunderous clap rattled the windows. The drive back to Hart Land was going to be interesting.

  “Eighteen, do I hear eighteen?”

  His card went up and her searing glare could have burned a hole through him.

  “I have eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty,” she went on. At twenty-one, the balding old man turned to his younger counterpart and threw a scowl that would have withered e
ven the stormiest of generals. Baldie’s wife huffed so loud Logan could almost hear it from where he stood.

  “Sold for twenty thousand dollars to number one forty-nine.”

  The gavel pounded and the room erupted in applause then immediately died down with the next item up for bid. When the last item was sold, Rose set the gavel down on the podium, thanked the attendees for their generosity and strode off the stage as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

  The minute she set foot on the wooden floors, her gaze met his and he could see a storm brewing in her eyes to match the one outside. “Hi. You did great.”

  “How much have you had to drink?”

  “Excuse me?” He held up his hands. One empty, the other with the bidding card that made her cringe.

  “I’m sorry.” She squeezed her eyes tightly closed, then opened them and forced a smile as she settled her gaze on him again. “You seem perfectly sober and not the least bit worried about all the items you bought.”

  “Only five.”

  “Yes. Five. And what exactly do you plan to do with an eighteenth-century bed warmer?”

  “Make popcorn, of course.”

  That made her laugh.

  “I said you’d be great. That joke broke the ice.”

  “Your starting bids didn’t hurt.”

  He hefted his shoulder in an effort at a casual shrug. “Glad I could help.”

  “Yeah, me too.” The corners of her mouth inched up in just a hint of a smile.

  Edna the owner of Buy the Book approached. “I am so happy to see someone who appreciates good literature win the first edition.”

  “I don’t know about good literature, but I certainly appreciate Mark Twain. Just seeing the book brought back happy memories.”

  “Excellent taste.” The woman beamed.

  “But, I must admit I bought the book for a gift.”

  “A gift?” The bookstore owner’s eyebrows arched high over startled brown eyes. “That’s quite a special gift.”

  “It’s for quite a special person.” He cast a short glance in Rose’s direction. “Who definitely appreciates literature.”

  Edna’s gaze darted from him to Rose and back. A knowing smile bloomed and she nodded, placing her hand on his. “I understand, but I really must run along now. There’s quite a bit of hubbub about my other first editions.”

  When he shifted his gaze from Edna’s departing back to Rose, she was staring at him with a different kind of fire in her eyes. “You’re giving the book away?”

  He nodded. “If you’ll accept it.”

  “Me?” Her eyes popped open wide with surprise.

  All he could do was nod. Words seemed to fail him.

  She shook her head. “I can’t. That’s a very—”

  “I promise you it will be easier reading than Anna Karenina.”

  “Anything is easier reading than Tolstoy, but I can’t.”

  “It would make me very happy if that book could bring you even a portion of the pleasure it gave me.”

  Her head tipped sideways as she carefully studied him. “I don’t understand you. Why would you give something so very valuable away to someone you barely know?”

  “I know you better than you think.” Even as he said them, he realized the words didn’t come out quite right. “What I mean is—”

  “It’s all right. I understand what you meant. I agree it’s a lovely gift. I’m still not sure I can accept.” She smiled. “But thank you.”

  Another round of lightning and thunder shook the room, making that sweet smile slip. “Glad this waited till the tournament was over to besiege us.”

  Logan nodded. “Hopefully it will ease up tomorrow when most folks go home.”

  Her head whipped around. “You’re going home tomorrow?”

  “No. Are you?”

  “No.” She sighed. “I am sticking around for the clean-up and any loose ends that need tying up, and then I want at least one full day with the family.”

  “I see.” That didn’t give him much time.

  “How long are you staying?” she asked softly.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I know the General would love to have you stick around a few more days. He’s always interested in a good whist partner.”

  “The General?”

  Her gaze drifted behind him a moment before locking on him again. “I’d love it if you’d stay a little longer.”

  His heart was officially doing handstands. “Then I guess I’m staying on.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I’m not much for clichés, but if this downpour continues we’re going to have to draw straws for who builds the arc and who collects the animals.” Rose stared at the constant rain. The first storm had come and gone the first night of the tournament. Fortunately, it had tapered off as forecasted before the second day of fishing, but by the time the banquet was in full swing, so were the rains again. They hadn’t stopped all day yesterday and if this kept up, getting home to Boston tomorrow was going to be a nightmare.

  “Nonsense,” Grams tsked. “The whole point of the rainbow is the promise never to destroy the earth by flood. We won’t need an arc.”

  Callie kicked her toe against the floor and set the rocker moving. “Last night the news said the rains should be moving north at a pretty fast clip. Tapering off here by later this afternoon.”

  “I saw that too,” Rose said. “They’re predicting it’s going to get pretty ugly by the time it hits the Canadian border.”

  “Good thing it’s not winter, the Canucks would be up to their chins in snow and ice.” Lucy turned, shaking her head, and went back inside.

  The General remained still, his face tilted skyward. “I’ve looked at a lot of nasty skies in my day. I don’t see this easing up any time soon. If anything, the rain’s getting heavier. If the wind picks up any more we’re going to have a problem.”

  “Oh my.” Grams pushed to her feet and slowly moved to her husband’s side.

  It wasn’t often that concern darkened her grandmother’s countenance. She had a way of always looking to the brighter side of a situation. How could we enjoy lemonade if we never had any lemons type of thinking. “It does bring back memories.”

  “Not good ones.” The General folded his wife’s hand in his. “I’d like to get a good look at that weather map myself.”

  “I can turn on the local news,” Callie mentioned. “Get an updated forecast.”

  Shaking his head, the General turned to face the folks sitting around the enclosed winter porch. “Not the little Doppler that they show viewers. The big picture.”

  “I might be able to help.” Logan pulled out his phone and swiped a few things. “Though it would be easier if I had access to a computer.”

  Callie jumped from the rocker. “I have my laptop in my bag by the steps. I’ll be back in a second.”

  “Bring my poncho and boots too,” the General called after her.

  “Oh Harold,” Grams muttered softly, “maybe that won’t be necessary. Maybe it’s not that bad and the TV people are right and it will all blow over.”

  Poppy and her mother came scurrying up the walk. The wind practically blew the two women and their umbrellas through the porch door.

  “Wind’s picking up and the water’s rising,” Aunt Virginia blurted. “Beach is covered.”

  “High tide?” Logan asked.

  The General nodded. “Yes, but add almost two days and three nights of nonstop rain, the last thirty-six hours coming in solid sheets, and that’s why the beach is under water.”

  Callie set her laptop in front of Logan and in a few seconds his fingers flew on the keyboard. With every click of his mouse, the lines on his forehead deepened. He’d pause to scan the screen, then tap on the keys some more. “Blast.”

  “What’s wrong?” Rose asked.

  “I’m blocked. Give me a minute.” Logan’s gaze never left the screen.

  Standing over the Texan’s shoulder, the General’s eyes w
idened. “You’re hacking into government satellites.” It wasn’t a question, and Rose was pretty sure she saw more pride than shock in her grandfather’s eyes.

  Focusing on the screen in front of him, Logan blew out a hard breath and leaned back. “The storm isn’t going to move out as forecasted.”

  The way his back teeth clenched and the muscled cords in his neck tightened, Rose knew whatever he was looking at was not good. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  He nodded. “It isn’t going anywhere. It’s stalled dead smack on top of us and according to these images, this little sprinkle isn’t the worst of it.”

  “I didn’t think so.” The General’s shoulder’s straightened and his chin lifted. Rose had just witnessed her grandfather leave the room and General Harold Hart USMC enter.

  “It’s Hurricane Adelaide all over again,” Virginia mumbled under her breath.

  “Could be.” The General shrugged into the rain poncho that his granddaughter held out for him.

  “Hurricane?” Poppy tipped her head in confusion. “We’re in the mountains.”

  “But the outlying storms can be just as…serious,” Logan stumbled over his last words. Not that Rose needed to be told what he’d really wanted to say. “We should notify the town officials. From what I just saw, this is going to get very ugly.”

  The General nodded. “I need to get outside and see for myself. We may not have much time. Lucy,” the General turned to the woman standing stone-faced in the doorway, “call the mayor. Put Logan on the line so he can tell her what he just told us. Then tell her we’ll need access to the district warehouse. And most likely so will anyone else with a house close to the shore.”

  Without a word, Lucy turned and rushed into the house, following orders.

  “If you’ll give me one minute I’ll go with you. You may want some back up.”

  The General nodded. “The assist is appreciated.”

  Logan looked to Rose in silent request for another raincoat as he followed Lucy into the kitchen.

  “I’ll get him some extra boots. Those cowboy boots may be pretty but they’re not worth a plug nickel in this weather.” Poppy bolted around her mother.