"Nine-months-pregnant schoolteacher?" she supplied cheerfully. "And you will note, won't you, that I arrived here seven months ago? So Axell has nothing whatsoever to do with my...'interesting condition.' And if you think there's anything else between us but his old-fashioned solicitude and generosity, then you have bacon where your brains should be. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm after a box from the kitchen."
She swam away, out of the conflagration she'd fueled. Axell could only admire her dexterity as she swept from the room. He'd hate to see how swift she was without the burden of pregnancy holding her back. Like the Cheshire cat, she'd probably leave her smile still spinning in the air behind her.
Popping the top from a water bottle, he leaned against the bar. "Give Judge Tony my regards, will you? And tell him if he wants to make a political case out of this, I'll take it all the way to the Supreme Court. That should thrill him. Constance is mine."
Sandra narrowed her eyes. "Are you certain Constance is yours?" she asked coldly. "My daughter wasn't exactly a one-man woman when you married." She stalked out, spine straight, high heels clicking.
Axell heaved his water bottle across the bar at a row of whiskey tumblers. The sound of shattering glass didn't equal the devastation inside his soul.
October, 1945
I've gone back there every night this week. I can't stay away. She's all I can think about. I can scarcely concentrate on the books for seeing her in my head, her red hair sprawled across the pillow, her white skin pale in the moonlight. I'm not a poetic man, but she makes me want to sing songs.
I've got to stop going there. I'd be ruined if Dolly's father found out.
Chapter 11
I need someone really bad... are you really bad?
Returning from the restaurant kitchen with an assortment of boxes, including one filled with freshly baked cinnamon rolls, Maya discovered Axell sitting at his polished bar, sipping an icy drink, a black cloud almost visibly hovering over his golden head. Her insides did a tumbling number as she remembered one of too many incidents in her childhood involving bar stools and alcohol. Then seeing the half-empty bottle of mineral water sitting on the bar, she breathed easier and approached with firmer tread.
"Drowning our sorrows so early in the day?" she teased daringly, taking the stool beside him and opening the box of rolls. After seeing Axell's human side last night, she couldn't view him as an invulnerable paragon any longer. "Sugar is much tastier than water." She helped herself to a steaming soft roll, and with a sigh of ecstasy, sank her teeth into it as she pushed the box in his direction.
Axell took a bun and tore into it like a vicious dog handed a bone. Maya considered that a sacrilege. She adored cinnamon rolls, even the kind from a can—which were the only ones she'd known growing up. One savored cinnamon rolls, not swallowed them whole.
Picking out a plump juicy raisin, she contemplated leaving this obviously angry man to his tantrum and going on about her business. Unfortunately, right now, it looked like he was her business. Or Cleo's, anyway.
"Ticked you off, did she?" she asked conversationally, licking a particularly sticky cinnamon-coated finger.
A V wrinkled the bridge of Axell's nose as he glanced over and caught her childish act.
Beaming in response to his frown, Maya popped another raisin into her mouth. "Tell me not to play with my food if it makes you feel better."
Axell managed a smile of sorts. His eyes, however, remained stony cold. His square jaw had a stuck-out set to it that would have driven Maya into spasms if she thought it aimed at her. For a change, though, she figured she was innocent.
"Carlos makes those rolls for the staff. I don't ever get one unless I go to the kitchen and demand one." He polished off the remainder of the sticky bun, and with a defiant gleam, licked his fingers.
Maya grinned. "You'll notice most of your staff is female," she replied.
Axell squinted at her, followed the track of her thoughts and finally saw its destination. He snorted in appreciation. "The old billy goat."
Maya snickered. "Shame on you. He's a sweet old man. Shall I go back to packing my boxes or would you care to explain your serious snit?"
"I don't have snits," he snapped, throwing back the glass of water as if it were whiskey.
"Right, and I don't have constipation." She slid off the stool, and leaving the rest of the rolls to sweeten his temper, strolled toward the door with her boxes.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he called after her. "Don't you ever sit in one place for three minutes?"
Maya directed a wry look over her shoulder. "Not where I'm not wanted. I'm perfectly aware I'm a hideous intrusion in your life, so I'm doing my best to make myself scarce."
She walked out before Axell could summon a reply. Refusing to consider Sandra's insinuations of Constance's parentage, he distracted himself by staring at the door from which Maya had shot her parting volley.
A hideous intrusion? Was that how the gypsy saw herself? He realized that's probably how she'd felt most of her life. He remembered her mentioning she and Cleo had spent a lot of time in foster homes. What must that have felt like to an uninhibited child like Maya, being shoved into a stranger's house, into an established way of life, not knowing the rules or limits or how long she'd be welcome?
And that's just exactly what he'd done to her and Matty—shoved them into a strange situation, and left them to flounder for themselves. She was good at it, he had to admit. He hated having his orderly life turned upside down, hated any break in his routine, but she had slid between all the cracks in his walls and found a niche of her own.
Amazed, Axell poured the rest of the water into his cup, ignoring the shattered glass behind the bar as determinedly as he ignored Sandra's words. Maya and Matty hadn't once set foot in his wing of the house. Actually, if he thought about it, they hadn't set foot anywhere but their bedroom, the kitchen, and the family room, places he didn't particularly consider his turf. They stayed out of sight and sound when he was home. He didn't even know when they ate breakfast or how they got to school. Matty took the bus, presumably.
Damn, but he'd been a blind bastard. Here he'd been thinking of himself as a humanitarian, when all he offered was another substitute foster home. He hadn't thought of either them as walking, talking human beings with minds and needs of their own.
All right, so he was a piece of shit. Considering he was actually contemplating safeguarding his license by scratching the mayor's back and agreeing to close her school, that was nothing new. Slamming down his glass, Axell stood up. On second thought, he turned and grabbed the box of cinnamon rolls.
Watching Maya eat that roll was an experience he didn't mind repeating. Remembering his reaction to the kiss she'd bestowed upon him earlier, he figured his libido was in sorry need of feeding. He'd have to wait until the teacher moved out before satisfying his hunger.
* * *
"Bosco," Matty declared in satisfaction as he wrapped his arms around the ragged rabbit and literally squeezed the fluffy pink stuffing out of its many holes.
"Let me guess," Axell said dryly from atop a ladder where he was attempting to affix chimes over the door. "It's a chocolate rabbit."
Maya beamed in approval. "I would have opted for 'Nestle,' myself, but Cleo is into ancient commercials. I think she gets them from the oldies station."
"N-E-S-T-L-E-S, Nestles makes the very best..." Matty sang almost absently as he rummaged through his box of toys.
"Chaw-w-klet," Constance finished for him in a deeper voice.
Maya erupted in giggles and Axell glowered down at her.
"Clowns! I'm working with clowns. And remind me never to meet your sister. The two of you in the same room is likely to be dangerous to the sanity." He stuck out his hand. "Give me another nail."
Maya sobered as she handed several up to him. "You do realize this is all her stuff, don't you? I'm just a place holder." As Cleo's release date grew closer, her anxiety level climbed. At least Cleo's last
curt note had thanked her for sending Matty's artwork.
Axell spoke around the nail he held in his mouth. "Yeah. So call me stupid."
"Stupid," Matty mimicked from below. "S-T-U-P-I-E-D."
"Stew-w-pid," Constance intoned.
Maya broke up all over again.
Grinning, Axell hammered the chimes in place. "Who taught that kid to spell?"
"He's five years old!" Maya protested. "He barely even knows his letters yet."
"He can almost read my Dr. Seuss books," Constance said matter-of-factly, opening another box the movers had left stacked in the middle of the newly waxed shop floor. "Look, the crystal ball!"
"Don't play with that stuff, Constance," Axell warned as he climbed back down the ladder. "Maya has to tell the cleaning crew where to put it all."
"Actually, I think Matty is memorizing the words," Maya started to say, but the door swung open as soon as Axell moved the ladder from in front of it.
"Headley! What the hell are you doing here?" Axell propped the ladder against the wall and dusted his hands on a rag.
"Hell," Matty repeated idly, removing one of his few tattered books from the box. "Hell, bell, well..." He stopped and pondered a new rhyme.
Maya covered her mouth with her hand to hide her laughter since Axell didn't look particularly happy with Headley's presence. She didn't want to tick him off any more. It was generous of him to take time off from his restaurant to spend the evening helping her move in. She eyed the older man warily, knowing who he was by sight. Everyone knew Headley.
The elderly reporter eyed the children and the confusion of boxes as if they might explode in his face at any minute. He shook out his soaked umbrella—the rain had continued all night and through the day—and leaned against it as he observed the contents of the few unpacked boxes. "Same weird paraphernalia, hmm? Not much call for that stuff around here, is there?"
"That's what you tracked me down to tell me?" Axell removed the crystal ball from his daughter's hands, swiped it with his dust cloth, and set it inside the glass counter Maya had cleaned earlier. "There's actually some pretty good stuff in here. It just needs the proper display."
"A clean one," Maya said dryly, not rising from her seat on the packing crate as she set another pot of water on the hot plate. "Would you care for tea? I can't offer a seat..." She gestured at the stacks of boxes burying the table and chairs.
"I'll clear those away for you. Your packing crate seat is making me nervous." Axell crossed the room and shifted a box from one of the ice cream parlor chairs, ignoring the man who had obviously come to see him.
Headley shifted another box and gallantly extended his hand to help Maya from her awkward seat. "Miss Alyssum? Jason Headley. Your name is familiar. Are you from around here?"
Maya shrugged. "So they say, but I don't remember the days of infancy."
Headley grinned. "Anyway, I've heard a lot about you."
"From Katherine, I suppose," Axell interjected. "She exaggerates."
"She's not the one who calls me twenty-months pregnant," Maya pointed out, accepting the reporter's hand and exchanging her seat on the crate for the chair.
"Well you are, even if you refuse to act like it." Axell glared from her to Headley, than stalked toward the door. "All right, Headley, let's take it to the bar. I'm just getting in the way of the lunatics over here anyway."
Headley hesitated, glancing at the children digging through still another box. Maya caught the hesitation immediately.
"Constance, why don't you help Matty take his things upstairs? Now that we have furniture again, we'll be staying here tonight."
Matty screamed with delight and raced for the stairs. Looking uncertain, Constance glanced back and forth between the adults, then obediently followed with her skinny arms full of toys.
"Does that help, Mr. Headley?" Maya asked as the children disappeared up the stairs.
The reporter lowered his bulk into the other chair and eyed her jasmine-scented tea skeptically. "I'm not certain anything helps, but I thought this might be something you needed to hear, too." He glanced at Axell, who stood with arms crossed, lean hip propped against the glass counter, waiting.
Receiving no prompt to continue, Headley shrugged. "The police arrested your busboys for possession and sale, Axell. Rumors are flying that they're just the flunkies and you're the bigger operation. Some people are jealous of the success you've made of that place."
Even through the gloomy twilight, Maya could see Axell's knuckles whiten. She recognized the lines tightening beside his mouth. He had an enormous capacity for restraining his temper, or diverting it in strange ways. She didn't think she wanted to be around when the dam broke this time. To drain off a little of the pressure, she spoke before Axell could. "And why did you think I needed to hear this, Mr. Headley?"
"Just Headley, dear. That's all anyone calls me." He shrugged his gray-suited shoulders again. "The connection is nebulous, but it doesn't take much in a small town. Your sister was busted for drugs, Axell is moving her inventory into his building, and you're living out at his place. Your sister's shop attracted a lot of teenagers. One thing leads to another and tongues are flapping like sheets in the wind."
Shocked, Maya couldn't summon a reply.
"Ralph is after my liquor license," Axell explained wearily. "I take that back, he's killing two birds with one stone with that rumor. Label us both as druggies and he eliminates any chances of my running for his job and kills your business along with mine. He figures you'll pack up and move out, and then I'll leave the Pfeiffer property uncontested. He must have found out that I persuaded one of the other council members to vote against the access road."
"Is that what this is all about?" Headley asked with interest. "I'd wondered."
"He can't do that, can he?" Maya asked with trepidation. She'd lost homes before. Lost parents, dogs, cats, and every valuable possession she'd owned except for the teacups. But she'd never been the cause of someone else losing anything. She watched Axell with growing horror.
"The mayor can't do anything personally, but he can pull strings. I'll have to investigate the financing behind that shopping center. I thought Ralph had kept his hands clean, but he's dumping too much into this to be doing it just for campaign contributions." Axell shrugged and didn't move from his position against the counter. "Thanks for the warning, Headley, but you shouldn't have worried Miss Alyssum. I'll take care of this."
"You'll take care of this? Someone is insulting my integrity, threatening my sister's shop and my school, and you'll take care of this? Do you have any idea what kind of catastrophe this could be for me? They could take Matty away, take my school away, destroy Cleo's livelihood..." Maya shoved up from her chair. "I'll damned well snatch the mayor bald before that happens."
Axell grabbed her arm as she stalked by. "It's my liquor license and my fight, and you don't have the experience to deal with it. Now go on upstairs with the kids and get some rest. Ralph and I have been battling it out since he switched to a Charlotte football team in high school."
Had she been in any condition to swing a punch, she would have. Instead, Maya smiled sweetly and shrugged off his hold. "Of course, honey bear. You do that. You just look out for little ol' me. You're so good at it." She patted Axell's wide chest, decided touching him was a mistake if the tension triggering up her fingertips was any indication, then pinched his cheek in defiance. "I'll just sashay upstairs and let you big ol' men take care of everything."
Axell's eyes narrowed into stony slits, his jaw muscle twitched, and he crossed his arms again, apparently restraining himself from shaking her. "When I need a woman to fight my battles, I'll let you know."
"Why, sure thing, sugar dumplin'. Isn't that what Ah just said?" She mimicked her mother's drawl. "I'll just go upstairs and call Selene and we'll have us a real nice gossip. You call me if you need anything, y'heah?"
Flowing skirts twirling around her, Maya drifted up the stairs and out of sight.
Hea
dley grunted and shoved up from the awkward parlor chair. "If she's talking about Selene Blackburn, you got your hands full, son. That little witch could scalp an army and leave them grinning. You won't have to worry about poor Ralph, except where to send the flowers for his funeral."
"Selene? She's a pest, but from what I hear, she didn't even graduate high school." Uncomfortably catching himself watching the empty stairs, Axell adjusted his focus. Maya could damned well do whatever she wanted to do. She wasn't any of his concern. He just had to decide the best way of handling this. "Selene will call her daddy and have Ralph's accounts audited or something."
Headley snorted and shook his shaggy head. "You're living in a dream world, boy. You need to get out and around women more often." He glanced at the stairway. "And I reckon that one bears watching as well. She might look like an addlepate, but keep in mind: she arrived broke and homeless seven months ago and already she has a school and a shop and a hook in you and one of the richest families around. She's not dumb. She's got an agenda. You might look further into her background."
No, Maya wasn't dumb, but agendas weren't precisely her method of operation. Axell glared at Headley, then glared at the far wall after Headley strolled out.
He had to remember why he was doing any of this: Constance.
And she might not even be his own kid.
A wave of emptiness engulfed him, and wearily, Axell unfolded from the counter to head back to the restaurant. He'd pick up Constance later, after he got off work. He just couldn't face her again right now. He kept searching for signs of himself in her, and even he knew kids were sensitive to things like that.
Chapter 12
Ain't nothin' in the middle of the road but yellow stripes and dead armadillos.
The tension headache pounding in the back of his skull matched the churning in his gut as Axell watched Ralph Arnold parade up and down the floor, oozing sincerity. The mayor's office in this tiny town was scarcely a standard of high living, but the polished desk and the flag hanging behind it offered a semblance of Southern patriotism. The mayor, with his professionally styled chestnut hair and gym-maintained physique, practiced the role of up-and-coming politician with more arrogance than the office deserved.
Dixie Rebel (The Carolina Magnolia Series, Book 1) Page 10
