Laken clung to him, weak-kneed. “I’m thinking, I agree.”
WHITE PEARLS
Dedication
To Mama, for being the unique individual you are, for encouraging my dream and helping me achieve it. You instilled in me a love for reading, helped me go to all those writers’ conferences, and babysat so I could meet deadlines.
Acknowledgments: I appreciate Jeannie Webber from the Little Rock, AR, Children’s Home Administration Office, Carrie Korzen and Tina Thomas of the Rose Bud Post Office, and Nick Stark, owner of the Darden-Gifford House in Rose Bud.
Chapter 1
Great, just what Shell needed to spoil the view from the balcony. A church full of Holy Rollers across the street. At least the old plantation sat back off the road a good two hundred yards. The Bible-thumpers wouldn’t be able to spy on her. With an exaggerated eye roll, she ran her forefinger and thumb back and forth over the faux pearl necklace she wore.
She stood at the railing and surveyed the grounds of the crumbling, two-story relic. Transform this place into a happening bed-and-breakfast? On the edge of town in tiny Rose Bud, Arkansas?
But the place had charm. It had obviously once been a grand estate. Oh the balls and cotillions this house must have hosted. Oh the grand, fine ladies who’d lived here. Grand, fine ladies who looked down their snooty noses on the likes of Shell Evans.
“Shell Evans.” A hoarse male voice came from behind her.
She stiffened. Probably a carpenter. How did he know her name already? She’d barely gotten here. Already the gossiping tongues wagged. Wade Fenwick’s floozy is in town. She could almost hear the whispers. Paranoid. Of course, her boss had told the man her name.
“Who wants to know?” She smiled, trying to sound confident as she turned to face him.
Ryler.
Her jaw dropped. Her heart skittered into overdrive. Her knees turned spongy and she leaned back against the railing.
“The landscaper.”
If only this could be an April Fool’s joke.
A massive brick of a man—but she knew how gentle he could be. Despite his imposing size, he was easy to look at. Same model-worthy, sculpted bone structure with tousled dark waves almost brushing his shoulders, and haunting moss green eyes. Eyes that bore into her soul and seemed to hold all of life’s hurts in their endless depths.
Hurts she’d once tried to ease. Instead she’d almost lost her heart. “Darrell hired you?”
Something cracked. The railing gave way, and Shell screamed. Ryler grabbed her arm and jerked her toward him. They landed in a heap by the door with her face buried in his solid chest. She pushed away from him.
He helped her up. “You okay?”
“Fine. Thanks.”
The balustrade where she’d stood was gone, leaving twisted, splintered wood in its wake.
Yellow pollen dust smeared her pink T-shirt and jeans. She swiped at it with shaky hands, and managed to pat most of it out.
Ryler coughed and cleared his throat. A few gasps later, he caught his breath.
“Are you sick?”
“Allergies. All this pollen. If it’s green and grows in the spring, I’m allergic to it.”
“And you’re a landscaper?”
“Gotta make a living somehow.” Ryler ran a hand through his dark waves, sending them tumbling in disarray.
Shell swallowed hard.
“I don’t remember you having allergies before.” But she remembered everything else. His deep voice that sent shivers over her spine, his touch that shot lightning through her veins, and his kiss that turned her into a quivering, brainless idiot.
“It was fall. I’m good in fall and winter. I’m usually better than this, but I forgot my medication last night.” His gaze scanned the grounds. “This place has a lot of possibilities.”
“It’ll take a lot of work, but it’s doable.” The porch swing beckoned to her still wobbly legs, but she didn’t trust the rotting wood and rusted chains. “You know, I’d understand if you want to back out of this. I’m sure you can find another job.” Please do. Just walk away.
“Probably, but we’re both adults. I’m starting my own business and something as upscale as restoring the grounds of a former plantation will look great on my résumé.” He coughed and cleared his throat.
She hugged herself and managed a smile. “Whatever you think.”
“I think I’ve seen enough.” No returned smile, no handshake, no catch ya later. He strolled through the doorway and was gone.
Why? Why? Why? Of all the landscapers, why the one who’d almost made her believe happily-ever-after could be possible. Six months. A whole half a year without him. Yet one glance and her heart had done a giddy tap dance.
Darrell stepped through the doorway. “What happened?”
“I leaned against the railing.”
His eyes widened and he gently took her by the shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
He wagged a finger. “No leaning on anything until the carpenters do some work.”
“I thought you said it was structurally safe.”
“In 1982, a tornado hit Rose Bud.” With a shrug, Darrell checked his watch. “Some of the outbuildings got blown away, but the house survived. Just think of the history. Famous architects of the time, DeVoss and Carr designed it for the original owner, J. S. Darden.”
“When did you get here?” Shell’s frustration came out in her tone.
He raised an eyebrow. “Just a few minutes ago.”
“I must have been inside opening windows. It needed airing out.”
“We parked around back by your apartment.”
“You mean my slave quarters.” She rolled her eyes. “Leave it to you to buy an old plantation and house me in the slave quarters.”
Darrell laughed and his brown eyes almost closed like they always did when he smiled. “Actually the servants’ quarters are upstairs. There’s a separate stairway from the dining room. And technically since the house was built in the late-1800s, they were no longer slaves, but servants. But think of all the history. When I saw it for sale, I had to have it. It’ll be fun restoring this place back to its original glory.”
If only his unconcerned, worry-free attitude could make her forget Ryler’s presence. But her nerve endings were alive at the prospect of working with him. “Is this an April Fool’s joke?”
“Wish I’d thought up something.” Darrell snapped his fingers. “But I forgot what day it was. Seriously, I wish I could oversee this renovation project myself, but then I’d miss my lovely wife.”
The only upstanding, happily married man Shell had ever known, Darrell was one of the few she was sure would never hit on her. He and his wife, Eva, were the stuff romance novels were made of.
“You have to admit it’s beautiful.” Darrell strode to one end of the balcony. “Ryler’s here somewhere. The landscaper.”
“I sort of ran into him.”
“Good. He’s planting a garden on all four sides with a fountain in the middle of each.”
“You said three months, Darrell? This place will take at least six, maybe even a year. I’ll never get to go home again.”
“Three. Maybe six if we hit snags, definitely not a year.” Darrell framed the front yard with his hands. “Just imagine. A garden view from every window. Freshly painted siding and new glass in the broken windows, restored interior walls and flooring…”
The breeze blew pollen dust tornadoes across the long drive.
“Darrell, I’m not sure about this.” Three months—six months. Either way, too long. What was she doing here anyway? Why wasn’t she with Chance in Conway? “It’s a bigger job than I expected.”
“You have my blessing to go home every weekend to Chance if you want. And there’s a church right across the street if you decide to stay here.”
“You know I don’t do church, and I’d rather spend every evening with Chance.” She bit her lip.
“I can’t keep up. How ol
d is he now?”
“Fifteen months.”
“You could bring him here with you.”
She closed her eyes. “You know that’s not possible.”
“Nothing’s impossible. You could stay on, run this place for me, and raise Chance here.”
Except she couldn’t raise him.
“Come on, Shell. This place needs your touch.”
And she owed him. “Three months. That’s all I have to give.”
“That’s my girl.” He patted her shoulder. “So now do you see the potential?”
“It’s a great old place.” It’s the landscaper that’s the problem. “Three months, then I’m out of here.”
“That’s all I need. But think about what I said. This little town would be a great place to raise a child.” Darrell checked his watch. “I’ve got a meeting to get to. I’ll come back tomorrow for an official tour and we’ll go over the plans. Will you close the windows and lock up for me?”
“Sure.”
“You can whip this place into shape, Shell. I have complete confidence in you.”
The only person who ever had.
Without a backward glance, he left. Moments later, his black cherry Cadillac convertible rounded the house. With a wave, he drove away.
Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she hurried through the house and retraced her steps, closing windows as she went.
The musty smell was better than when she’d first arrived. She closed the last window, locked the storm and regular doors, and stepped out on the front porch.
“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Shell jumped and whirled toward the gravelly voice.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I thought you left.”
“I was checking out the grounds.” He jammed a baseball cap on his head and tipped it at her. Dark waves flipped every which way under the rim. “Better get used to me hanging around. You’re stuck with me, for at least six weeks.”
Only half the time she’d be here. A relieved sigh welled up within her, but she stifled it as he waved and jogged toward the back of the house.
Moments later, a charcoal SUV rounded the side of the house and pulled onto the highway. If it was Ryler’s, it was definitely a step up from the battered royal blue pickup with the roaring engine he’d driven six months ago.
Her breathing leveled out to normal.
The splintered railing lay in front of the steps. Her stomach clenched. She could have ended up there in a broken heap. Picking up the rotted wood, she threw it in a pile next to the porch and scanned the house.
Six weeks. Six weeks of working with Ryler. The crew could whip this place into shape in three months. They had to. She had to get home to Chance.
Inhaling the fresh spring air, she tried to let the peaceful surroundings calm the quaking inside and imagined the repairs, flower beds, and bushes. Yes, it definitely had potential.
A breeze wafted the tall, amber hay surrounding the house on three sides. Dense woods stretched into eternity behind her apartment separate from the house. Typical of rural Arkansas, hayfields surrounded almost every house, although downtown Rose Bud was just around a curve.
The porch spanned the entire front, with filigree trim and the balcony above it. The window with stained glass panels Darrell had bought in Botkinburg graced the eave overhanging the terrace. His only splurge from keeping everything original. So excited with his antique find, he’d had the window installed months ago when the roof had been replaced and the apartment remodeled.
Double French exterior doors would be perfect for the front entries on both stories, but Darrell wanted the originals with the double arched windows left intact.
Her purse vibrated. She dug out her cell and flipped it open. Darrell.
“Hello?”
“You okay?” Darrell’s favorite Christian radio station played in the background.
“Fine. Why?”
“You seemed kind of—funny, so I wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt.”
A lump lodged in her throat. “It wasn’t the fall. I wasn’t expecting to see Ryler here, so it kind of rattled me.”
“You know him?” Concern echoed in his tone.
“We got acquainted when he was working on the golf course.”
“And that’s all you’re going to tell me.” The music faded out. “He did wonders with the golf course, so I thought he’d be perfect for the job. But you’re giving me second thoughts. Will you be okay working with him?”
“It’s fine. He’s gone already and what are you? My boss or my father?”
“Just trying to look out for you, Shell. Somebody needs to. Have you made it to the apartment yet?”
“On my way.”
“Call Eva when you get there. She’s dying to know what you think.”
“I’m sure it will be fabulous. Even if it’s not slave quarters.”
He chuckled. “Take care, Shell. And if Ryler gets out of line, he can answer to me.”
Her heart was the only thing out of line.
As she hung up, a child’s giggle echoed through the air, followed by a playful squeal. Now she was hearing things. Painful reminders.
She turned toward the sound. A mother with a toddler and an infant walked toward the house across a narrow hayfield. Great, just what she needed.
Scurrying to her apartment, she rounded the side of the main house. With a screened porch on the side, and a small afterthought of a porch over the door, the back of the main house wasn’t nearly as ostentatious as the ornate front.
Separated from the house by the driveway, her apartment sat directly behind it, with an aged wooden garage on the far end. Its door looked permanently jammed about a foot from closed. She shuddered. No telling what kind of creatures had made their home in there.
Coffee. Darrell promised her apartment was fully furnished and stocked with everything she’d need. Two cups, maybe three, then she’d go over the plans and blueprints and be ready for Darrell’s arrival in the morning. And Ryler’s.
She opened the trunk of her car and pulled out the largest suitcase, then sifted through the keys Darrell had given her.
So much for slinking into town without a splash. Who was she kidding? This job would take forever. No way could she spend months on end here without the locals finding out who she was. Six weeks of those months on end, working with Ryler.
Oh well, at least she wouldn’t have to hear her sister and brother-in-law constantly talking about God and church and inviting her to attend.
The aged lock of her temporary lodgings clicked. Inside, the apartment was roomy with sunny yellow walls and white wicker furnishings. Eva had done a nice job with the contemporary, bright, and cozy decor. Given the chance, Shell would have chosen a less hokey color, but it was nice enough. And after Shell finished the job, it would serve as a nice honeymoon suite.
She stepped into the bedroom and hoisted her suitcase onto the bed. After unzipping the lid, she dug through her clothing, found the framed photo, and set it on the night table. She ran her fingertips over the precious face, her chin trembling.
Weekend trips to Conway. Lots of them over the next several months. Home was only forty-five minutes away and she’d left something there.
Her heart.
And the only male she’d ever trusted with it.
Ryler parked in front of the glass lobby of the post office. If he’d known the manager for the B & B project was Shell, he wouldn’t have taken this job. He should have known. Shell was never far from Darrell. White-knuckled, his hands tightened on the steering wheel.
But she was supposed to be in Conway. And now, he couldn’t quit—couldn’t let her know that working with her would be hard on him. Hard on his heart.
How had she gotten back under his skin so quickly? He jerked the SUV door open.
She was beautiful, but he’d had his share of beautiful women. Was it the pain in her eyes that had drawn him to her again? He didn’t need to
dabble with anyone else’s pain—he had enough already.
Pushing thoughts of Shell down deep, he concentrated on the task at hand. Meeting his sister. Shortly after his birthday, he’d finally found the courage to unearth his mother’s letter from his father’s Bible, read it, and head to the bank with the safe deposit key. And his life had pole-vaulted even more out of control.
He’d found his birth mother but hadn’t revealed his identity to her yet. Her highfalutin ways made him want to run the other way. Until he learned about his siblings. Siblings who possibly didn’t even know about him.
With his stomach churning, he stepped inside the post office lobby and swung the second door open to reveal white walls and commercial tiled floors. Mailboxes lined a long wall and several U-shaped areas. The work area was to his right.
He blew out a breath. She was alone.
Turning from her computer, Laken flashed him a friendly smile. “May I help you?”
His tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. He swallowed. “I just moved to Romance.”
“Welcome. I used to live there. It’s a great little town.”
“I’m trying to decide whether to get a post office box there or here in Rose Bud, since I’ll be doing some work in this area, Searcy, and Little Rock.”
“Hmm.” She tapped her chin with her index finger. “It depends. Is the Romance office close to your house?”
With a shrug, he grinned. “Beats me.”
“Where do you live?”
“In a rental house on Highway 5.”
Squinting, she cocked her head to one side. “By any chance is Pete Callaway your landlord? Number 124?”
He frowned. Was she on to him? “How did you know?”
“I used to live across the street. My brother lives there now and he mentioned someone new moving in.” She shrugged. “Besides, it seems everybody ends up in one of Pete’s two rentals when they first come to town.”
Across the street from his brother? He couldn’t have planned that if he’d tried.
She grabbed a scrap of paper and drew an X, then a line and another intersecting it. “Okay, your house is here. The office in Romance is down this road, I’d say about a mile and a half past your place.”
ARKANSAS WEDDINGS: THREE-IN-ONE COLLECTION Page 34
