“I told you he was a Hell’s Angel,” Hattie declared triumphantly. “I want all your Hummels!”
“Hummels, hell.” Maggie snorted. “You bet your Hummels. We didn’t bet any Hummels.”
Seemingly humiliated, Bella’s cheeks reddened as the group downstairs continued to bicker over the terms and conditions of the Hummel bet.
“Despite evidence to the contrary, privacy will not be a problem—”Bella marched over and hurriedly closed the opening to the downstairs.“—so long as you close the door. Otherwise, we’re all…” She trailed off weakly, not wanting to say the rest. All ears.
Gray grinned. “I’ll try to remember that. Anything else I should know about?”
Bella bit her bottom lip and shook her head. “That’s it.”
“Good,” he told her. “I’ll fill out that agreement. How long will it take you to check my references?”
She glanced at her watch. “I have someone coming in at eleven o’clock. I can make the calls around eleven-thirty and let you know at lunch.”
“Then I’ll see you at noon.” Gray followed Bella downstairs, filled out the form, and bid them all good-bye as he donned his sunglasses. Then, as he started to pull the door shut, he heard Fayrene say, “Well, I don’t know what all the fuss is over. Personally, I think Bella needs a man in her life. And that one will do just fine. Look at that set of cheeks, would you? Do you see that, Bella? I’ve been admiring buns for a long time and I can tell you he’s got one fine behind.”
Gray couldn’t help himself. The urge to see if his apparently single and soon-to-be landlady was checking him out proved to be too strong. He turned, glanced over his shoulder, and to his ultimate delight, caught Bella Valentine openly ogling his hindquarters.
Smiling, he lowered his sunglasses and winked.
Chapter Two
Bella and the rest of her regulars watched as Gray Cameron loped off the steps and sauntered toward his car. Fayrene, her voice quavering with lust, stood next to Bella and enthusiastically extolled the virtues of her newest tenant’s rear end.
Unable to help herself, Bella’s gaze followed the tantalizing length of his spine, then lingered at the particular part of his anatomy that was presently under such scrutiny from the rest of her group.
A small smile curved Bella’s lips and silently she concurred with Fayrene’s frank assessment. He did have nice buns, Bella decided as another current of heat zinged through her. Nice and—
To Bella’s immeasurable embarrassment, he suddenly stopped and looked back. A combination of male satisfaction and humor tilted his lips into a devastatingly sexy grin. To her further humiliation, he lowered his sunglasses, then winked knowingly.
Mortified, Bella jerked away from the window. Heat scaled her cheeks. What the hell had come over her?
“Whew-ee” Fayrene whooped, fanning herself dramatically. “That is one helluva man! Mercy, Bella, I wish you had another apartment for rent—I’d be giving notice at Shady Acres and moving in here!”
Lila and Maggie cackled, while Hattie lined face wrinkled into a mask of displeasure. “He’s an exhibitionist,” she told them. “Pure and simple. A dandy, through and through.”
“Aw, hell, Hattie,” Maggie said. “Put a sock in it. I didn’t see you covering your eyes.”
“Well, I never,” Hattie gasped.
“We know,” Maggie drawled, exasperated. “That’s the problem.”
Bella swallowed the chuckle that rose in her throat, while the rest of the room—except Hattie, of course—dissolved in laughter.
“Momma?”
The laughter faded away as Bella turned to see Ethan standing in the doorway. His curly blond locks tangled from a severe case of bed-head, he ground his small fists into his eyes sleepily. Bella’s heart swelled. “Yes, baby?”
Ethan walked across the room into her out-stretched arms. He yawned. “I’m ready for lunch.”
Bella grinned wryly. Big surprise there. Ethan’s world revolved around three pastimes—play time, meal time, nap time. Anything else was secondary and of no consequence to him. “Is that right?”
“Mmm—hmm. I wanna peanut butter and jeddy samwish cut in half with no yucky crust and some chips with dip and a drink.”
“Decisive little booger, isn’t he?” Maggie remarked. The other three ladies beamed and gazed fondly at Bella’s little prince.
Since Ethan didn’t have maternal or paternal grandparents, Fayrene and the bunch had taken it upon themselves to fill those roles. Maggie knew about cars, Lila could fish, Hattie made fabulous chocolate chip cookies and Fayrene simply doted. Despite the lack of blood relations, Bella felt unbelievably fortunate to live in a small town with people who cared about her and her son. The township of Magnolia Grove was their extended family and she felt secure in its bosom.
“I think I can arrange that,” Bella told him. “Anything else, Your Highness?”
Ethan frowned thoughtfully, giving the question some consideration. “Nope.”
Bella relayed Ethan’s order to Dana, then playfully swatted him on the behind. “Go eat. Momma’ll take a break after I finish Ms. Hattie and we’ll play a quick game of I Spy.”
“Pinky sear?” Ethan asked hopefully.
Smiling, Bella hooked her pinky finger around his considerably smaller one. “You got it.”
Satisfied that his mother was duty bound by the pinky swear, Ethan charged off toward the kitchen in a blur of white curls, bare feet and denim overalls.
“That boy is lookin’ more like his daddy every day,” Maggie commented wistfully. A chorus of equally wistful “mmm—hmms” sounded at her observation.
It was true, Bella thought. Ethan’s chin had a definite cleft and his eyes were the same warm brown as Dan’s had been. A dull pang struck her, remembering her late husband.
She and Dan had been high school sweethearts and had married as soon as they’d graduated. Dan had been the captain of the football team, made good grades, and worked at the local supermarket. Your all-around good guy. Bella had fallen head over heels in love with him in homeroom class her sophomore year. And she’d loved him ever since.
Dan had been gone for almost three years and the consensus was that the time had come for her to move on. But move on to what? She’d been fortunate enough to be with a man who she’d loved and been loved in return. Theirs had been a happy marriage, not riddled with distrust, adultery and other problems she’d heard horror stories about. She had a beautiful child, a comfortable home and a career she adored. She had moved on…or as “on” as she intended to go. Marrying again was simply not an option. Why risk what happiness she and Ethan shared together?
“I still can’t believe you’re going to let that man move in,” Hattie said, breaking into Bella’s thoughts. “What will people think?”
“Who cares what people think?” Maggie said, voicing Bella’s silent thought.
Besides, she reasoned, what people thought wouldn’t make the mortgage. There were still several renovation projects Bella needed to complete, and without the rent, she couldn’t afford them. The last three months while the apartment sat vacant had knocked a serious dent in her savings. She desperately needed that income.
“Aw, hell. Get outta the Dark Ages, Hattie,” Fayrene admonished. “Men and women live together all the time. Don't you watch TV?"
“Still, we don’t know anything about this man!” Hattie argued. “Bella’s single and she has a child to think about. There are some sickos in this world. I watch the national news; I know what’s going on. He isn’t from Magnolia Grove.” She crossed her arms over her chest and sniffed. “We don’t know his people.”
Uh-oh, Bella thought. The unpardonable social sin of the south. Any undesirable could move into town and be welcomed back into the bosom of Magnolia Grove with open arms—so long as someone knew his people. Somber-faced, the group paused to consider Hattie’s last remark.
“You are going to check his references, aren’t you, Bella? Maggie asked he
sitantly. Concern glimmered in her light blue eyes.
“Well, of course,” Bella told the suddenly anxious gathering, touched again at their thoughtfulness. “I plan to run a credit check as well. Don’t worry. I won’t do anything rash.”
Seemingly satisfied, the elderly troupe breathed an audible sigh of relief. Hattie crossed herself and murmured a prayer. But of the four, Fayrene seemed most pleased.
“You say he’s going to be back at noon?” Fayrene queried coyly.
Curbing a grin, Bella nodded.
“Well hurry up and take care of Hattie!” Fayrene cried. “Time’s a-wastin’ and I’d like to be at my best when he gets back. In fact, Hattie,” Fayrene remarked, scrutinizing Hattie with a calculating eye, “you don’t even look like you need a set.” She grabbed Hattie’s frail arm and attempted to drag her out of the chair. “Move aside and let me have my turn.”
“Let go of me, you…you harlot!” Hattie yelled.
Smiling wryly, Bella started to referee while Lila and Maggie placed bets on the outcome of the catfight.
Gray Cameron had certainly stirred things up around her little salon this morning, Bella thought. Unaccountably, a dim feeling of foreboding settled in the pit of her stomach…and she fervently hoped it wasn’t a premonition of things to come.
***
After letting the top down on the Cadillac, Gray cruised around Magnolia Grove’s town square, listening to classic rock. The October sun lent a pleasant warmth to the crisp, earthy scent of fall. Wreaths fashioned of autumn leaves and Indian corn adorned the old-fashioned lamp posts, creating a picturesque avenue through the historic district of the town. Beneath a canopy of ancient magnolia trees in the center of the square an octagon fountain bubbled, sending arcs of crystal water into the air. Clad in overalls and John Deere caps, a couple of elderly men sat and whittled on a park bench beneath the shade. They looked up as Gray drove past and regarded him with unabashed curiosity.
Feeling as though he’d stepped into a Normal Rockwell picture, Gray grinned and slowed the car to a stop. He still had another forty-five minutes to kill before he returned to Bella’s and the insistent rumbling in his gut had announced a way to pass the time. He lowered the volume on the tape deck. “Where can I get a good meal?”
Squinting thoughtfully, the larger of the two old men designated himself as the food authority. “Depends,” he said, thoughtfully stroking his gray-stubbled jaw. “You want barbecue or a plate lunch?”
“Just a plate lunch.”
“Dora’s Diner around the corner,” he said decisively, dentures clacking. “She makes the best chicken fried steak in Mississippi.”
Gray nodded his thanks, then aimed his car toward the diner. The pungent aroma of pumpkin spice and fried food hit him as he walked into the brightly lit room. Like the salon, a brief lull in conversation descended as the door swung shut behind him. Heads swiveled and forks stalled at open mouths. Feeling a little like the villain in and old western move, Gray smiled and ambled toward an empty booth.
Instantly a waitress was at his elbow. The name tag positioned over one of her ample breasts read Wanda. Wearing lipstick bright enough to blind a man in sunglasses and hair teased to the point where a ceiling fan could do serious damage, the plump siren gazed at him speculatively.
“Hi, sugar. What’ll ya have to drink?”
“Iced tea.”
She scribbled something on her order pad. “Sweet or unsweet?”
“Sweet.”
“I figured as much,” she told him smugly. “Lemon or orange?”
What the hell, Gray thought. He’d live on the edge. “Both.”
She smiled. “Good choice. Today’s special is the chicken fried steak with collard greens and mashed potatoes. Dora took her blood pressure medicine, so the gravy’s pretty good today.”
Despite advice to the contrary, Gray wasn’t all that eager to try the chicken fried steak. In fact, he preferred his steak grilled to perfection over an open flame, not battered and fried. As for the collard greens…they didn’t sound like anything he’d particularly care for. He conjured a smile and said, “I’ll just have a burger and fries.”
She jotted down another note. “Okay. Lemme turn this in, then I’ll be back in a jiff with your drink.”
Gray settled back in the red vinyl booth to survey his surroundings and the circa nineteen-fifty décor. Black and white tile, worn through in several places, quilted the floor. Gleaming, speckled formica covered the tabletops and counters, and the chairs and booths were upholstered in red vinyl with chrome accents. Various black and white photos, high school banners and other bric-a-brac adorned the walls.
“You’re the man who’s lookin’ to rent widow Valentine’s apartment.”
The statement came from a bushy-browed man of an indeterminate age in the booth directly in front of him. Gray had little time to process the remark before Wanda returned with his drink.
So you’re not just passin’ through then,” Wanda remarked. To Gray’s sudden discomfort, her speculative look was back.
“Uh…no.”
“Wonderful” Wanda exclaimed. “I’d be glad to show—“
“Wanda!” a stout little woman from the kitchen bellowed. “Table four’s order is up. Quit your jawin’ and take care of business.”
Wanda scowled at the woman, then turned back and grinned at Gray. “I’ll check back with you in a minute.”
“Wanda!”
“I’m comin!” she bawled back. With an angry swing of her hips, she stormed off, muttering something about estrogen deficiencies and female dogs.
“Widow Valentine is a good woman,” the man said after Wanda stalked away. “She’ll do you right about the rent.”
Widow? Gray wondered. Bella was a widow? She seemed awfully young to be widowed. Gray guessed her to be in her mid to late twenties. He’d had the opportunity to really observe her while he’d been waiting to see the apartment. She seemed to laugh easily. It was a deep, throaty laugh, as though she enjoyed the sound of herself. And it was obvious that she adored those old busybodies who frequented her salon. Gray inwardly snorted. An ex-convict? Hell’s Angel? He’d been too amused by their overactive imaginations to be insulted.
Still, despite everything he’d discerned about Bella, Gray had noticed that there seemed to be an aura of quiet strength about the hairdresser. Laugh lines fanned the corners of her eyes, but a wisdom learned too early lingered in their blue depths. As if she’d been forced to deal with too many troubles, much too soon.
Gray had thought for a moment that the man had been referring to Bella’s mother, but intuitively he knew that wasn’t the case. A peculiar feeling swirled in his chest at the thought of his future landlady’s unhappiness.
He’d never been in love, and therefore couldn’t empathize with her loss. But he knew from experience how the loss of a loved one could affect a person. He’d watched his mother wither away and die within three months of his father’s passing. His mother had lived in happiness, had raised him with the benefit of a father. Bella was all alone with the rest of her life ahead of her and a toddler to raise. How daunting it must be—
“You’re not from around here are you, young fella?” the man asked.
Shrugging off the odd sensation, Gray managed a smile. “No, sir.”
The man’s bushy brows drew together. “Well, then. Where are you from?”
A place where nobody asks questions, Gray thought wryly. “San Francisco.”
“Humph. Well, that explains it.” His interest satisfied, the old man forked up a glob of green food that Gray suspected were the touted collard greens.
Gray frowned. “Explains what?”
“Why your hair looks like a girl’s.” He sighed heavenly. “I guess we won’t have to worry about Bella’s reputation. She should be safe enough with you.”
Safe enough? Gray scowled in confusion. What on earth…
“Don’t worry. The citizens of Magnolia Grove are hip to your needs,�
� the old man said matter-of-factly. He speared a bit of mystery meat, then dipped it in gravy. “Mayor Smith’s son is gay too.” He paused thoughtfully. “Michael’s got a boyfriend, but he might be willin’ to fix you up with someone.”
"Er, no thanks."
Gray didn't need fixing up with anyone, straight or otherwise. He just needed to work.
Chapter Three
Four pairs of faded blue eyes peered at him from the front window as Gray exited his car and bounded up the steps to Bella’s salon. The door swung inward before he could grasp the knob.
“Welcome back, Mr. Cameron,” Fayrene cooed, batting her eyelashes shamelessly. “Come on in and I’ll let Bella know that you’re here. Can I offer you anything to drink?” she asked.
“You could if it were your house,” Maggie muttered under breath. She snorted and rattled the magazine she’d been reading.
Gray smothered a chuckle as Fayrene aimed an evil glare at Maggie. “No, thanks,” he declined. “I just had something at the diner.”
“Dora’s?” Hattie beamed. Her penciled brows rose into her thin hairline. “Did you try the chicken fried steak?”
What was so damned special about chicken fried steak? Gray wondered absently. “Uh, no. Not today.”
Her brows drooped. “Oh, too bad. Dora makes the best chicken fried steak in Mississippi.”
Gray grinned. “So I’ve been told.”
“Well, maybe next,” Fayrene said briskly. Suddenly a shrewd gleam lit her gaze, causing a sensation of dread to coil in Gray’s stomach. “In fact, I’d be happy to accompany you down to—“
“Bang! Bang!” a little tow-headed boy shrieked gleefully as he ripped into the room as fast as his little legs would carry him. Wearing a red cowboy hat and wielding a couple of plastic six-shooters, the child ran around the room and aimed them randomly at the ladies.
“Oh, mercy. I’m hit. I’m hit!” Maggie wailed dramatically. She clutched her chest and sagged in her chair, her tongue lolling out of her mouth.
My Funny Valentine Page 2
