by Karen Booth
Crap. She hadn’t bargained on her mom knowing about that. “Did you see that in the papers?”
“One of your brothers emailed me a link. I figured you’d call me and tell me what was going on when you were ready for me to know.”
“We aren’t really dating. It’s complicated.” Beyond complicated. “We were in a position to help each other’s businesses. And we’re trying to be friends, but we argue a fair amount. He doesn’t like my contractor. I don’t really know what’s going on between us, to be honest.”
“You’re rambling, darling. And you still haven’t told me what happened with your apartment.”
Ashley took in a deep breath. “There was a fire.”
“Oh no.” There was such finality to her mother’s words. “Are you okay? You weren’t hurt, were you?”
“I’m fine. Really. Actually, my neighbor Marcus was the one who discovered the fire. He put it out and everything. Before the fire department arrived.”
“Please tell me you weren’t home.”
“I wasn’t. I was at work.”
Her mother exhaled deeply. “I have never been so thankful for that crazy job of yours. Are you going to be okay? Do you need to come home for a few days? Let me feed you and you can sleep in and we’ll have our girl time.”
Ashley smiled. Just a few minutes of talking to her mom had lowered her stress level dramatically. “I would love to do that, but I have to stay and deal with the fire marshal and the insurance company and find a new contractor.”
“Okay, honey. I know you’re busy. I just want you to know that we’re here for you. Always. I’m sure that the fire was a scary thing, considering everything that happened when you were a girl, but you need to recognize that good things come out of bad, too.”
“What good came out of that fire? It was all bad.”
“Actually, a lot of good things happened. It made your father quit smoking. Another decade or two of that and we probably would have lost him to a stroke long before now. Plus, your dad and I weren’t doing that well at the time. Running the farm was hard, and it was driving a wedge between us.”
“It was?” Ashley sat back against the headboard. “You never told me that.”
“You were ten years old. And that was between your father and me. Some things have to stay between a husband and a wife. Nobody else needs to know. Regardless, the fire brought us closer. We realized how much we needed each other. It made the financial problems that came after it much easier to handle.”
“I think of that time as being so hard.”
“It was incredibly hard. But your father got me through it. That’s what love does, darling. It makes all of the bad tolerable. You should know that better than anyone. You go to work and find a lot of people true love.”
“Not that I’m actually able to find it for myself. That would make too much sense, wouldn’t it? For the woman who searches for love all day to actually find it for herself?”
“So tell me what the situation is with you and Marcus.”
If only her mother knew what a long conversation this could end up being. “There is no situation. I mean, I liked him a lot at first, but then I thought he didn’t like me.”
“And now?”
“Now, I don’t really know what to think. He has a very complicated life. I’m just not sure I’m up for that. He’s had a hard time, went through a really painful divorce and is trying to raise his daughter on his own. I’m starting to see why he can come across as a jerk. He closes himself off to everything.”
“Just like you do.”
For a moment, Ashley wasn’t sure of what she’d heard her mother say. “What? I don’t do that at all. You know me. I’ll talk about anything.”
“Maybe when it comes to other people. You close doors when you don’t like what you see. You’ve done that since you were a little girl. If something bad happened, you just learned to ignore it. You were always better at helping other people than helping yourself.”
Ashley’s mind flew back to the palm reading in the limo. She didn’t really believe in that stuff, but Marcus had said virtually the same thing of her. Oh my God. She’s right. He’s right. She’d closed the door on the bad behavior of her contractor. She’d closed the door on the fire, trying to put on a brave face for Marcus so he wouldn’t see her fall apart. She’d closed the door on the reasons James had left. Why wasn’t she ready for a real commitment? For children?
“Mama, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Do you think I’m too scattered to be a good mom or wife?”
Her mother laughed quietly. “Didn’t I just get done saying that you’re better at helping others than helping yourself? That’s pretty much the first requirement of being a wife and a mom. Being scattered has nothing to do with it. And you’re not scattered. You’re full of life. You aren’t afraid to take on new things, even if it stretches you a little bit.”
“I’m not afraid to take on new things if I think I’m going to be good at them.”
“Or if it helps you help someone else.”
She hadn’t thought about it that way, but that wasn’t far off base. She’d taken on the matchmaker show not completely certain she’d do well at it, only knowing that she had to take the chance so she could help her family.
“So, Ashley Anne, do you like him?”
“Who? Marcus?”
“The man in the moon. Of course I mean Marcus.”
Ashley instructed her clients not to think when she asked them questions like this. It was a time for the heart to take the lead. “I do. He can be a big mystery, but I feel like I find out something new every time we spend time together. I just keep going back, even when things aren’t going well, because I’m dying to know more. I guess you could say he has me hooked.”
“And does he like you?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest. I mean, he invited me to stay at his apartment, so I’m pretty sure he doesn’t hate me.”
“Sounds to me like you need to find a way to his heart. And you know what that means.”
Ashley smiled wide. “You think so?”
“Absolutely. You need to cook for the man. That’s the surest way to figure out how he feels.”
Twelve
Mama had given her marching orders—cook for the man. A homemade, South Carolina low country, George family dinner. Shrimp and grits—the kind of dinner her mother would have made when there was money for groceries. For dessert, a coconut layer cake, six layers, the way her grandmother had made it. Ashley knew every step by heart.
But first, clothes. The black pencil skirt she’d worn to work yesterday was fine, but the smell of smoke had permeated her silk blouse just from twenty minutes out in the hall. She hoped Marcus would feel okay if she borrowed one of his dress shirts for a little while. She’d take it to the cleaners when she was done with it. Plus she wanted to see his bedroom.
When she rounded the corner into his room, she was greeted with masculine splendor, much like the rest of the house. A tufted brown leather headboard crowned the head of his bed. A white duvet and pillows topped it with a gray wool blanket cast aside. The bed was still unmade, a rumple of sheets. Of course—the housekeeper would be by soon.
Ashley couldn’t help it—she crept over to the side of the bed and turned, perching precariously on the edge of the mattress. Her hand smoothed over the silky sheets. Damn him. He would have to buy bedding with a high thread count. Probably the finest Egyptian cotton. She knew she shouldn’t have been doing it, but there was something so comforting and cozy about sitting where he’d been sleeping mere hours ago. More than comforting—it was a bit titillating. His naked chest and back had touched these sheets. The morning after he’d rejected her, she’d forced herself to wash the memory of him from the bedding.
Atop a gorgeous wood chest next to the bed sat a white-shaded reading lamp, an alarm clock and a silver-framed photograph of him and Lila. She was probably only a few months old in the picture, the two of them nose to nose, her tiny, dimpled hands touching his face, the two of them grinning. Their mutual adoration was so evident it made Ashley’s heart ache. They’d been through so much. Together. There had to be days when Marcus felt as though it was just he and Lila against the world. After these many months, would he even be able to make room for a woman in their lives? Would he trust another woman with not only his heart but also the heart of his sweet little girl? Marcus’s protective tactics made one thing clear—he’d risk his own heart far before he’d risk Lila’s.
She ventured into his closet, a shrine to meticulous organization. The man would probably pass out if he ever saw the condition of her closet, bursting at the seams with dresses and shoes—good God, the shoes. She thumbed through his shirts, admiring a few, finding a French-blue one that didn’t look like it was too horribly expensive. Except that it was probably incredibly expensive. She slipped into it, buttoned it and rolled up the sleeves. With some creative tucking to make it look less like she was swimming in a shirt, she headed back down the hall.
Noises came from the kitchen—the housekeeper.
Ashley marched over and held out her hand. “Hi there. I’m Ashley. You must be Martha.”
The woman’s bright blue eyes were wide with surprise. “You’re the matchmaker. I watch your show all the time.” She dropped the towel she was using to wipe the counters, her hand flying to her face. “You had a fire. I saw the firemen in the hall just now. I’m so sorry.”
Ashley nodded. “Yes. Thank goodness it wasn’t a total loss. I’m headed over there right now. I need to get a few of my things and try to see about getting everything fixed up.”
“You aren’t going to have the same builder come back, are you? They were horrible.”
Ashley sighed. Why had she been so stupid? “I know that now. I’m so sorry if they were an inconvenience for you.”
Martha picked up her towel and ran some water in the sink. “I just don’t like to see Mr. Chambers get so upset. He works very hard and he’s a great boss. He gave me two weeks off with full pay when my husband had back surgery. He even had meals sent to our apartment.”
Now that she knew Marcus, she shouldn’t have been even the slightest bit surprised that he would do something like that. “That was very generous of him.”
“He’s a good man. A very good man. And his daughter is an angel. Of course, he protects her like he’s a bear, but that’s what a father does. Especially when she doesn’t have a mother.”
Ashley wasn’t sure whether she should feel better that Martha’s information confirmed that her feelings for Marcus were warranted, or if she should feel like she might never match up to his epic goodness. He clearly had a generous heart. He just hid it from a lot of people.
“Well, you don’t need to worry about preparing dinner for tonight,” Ashley said. “I’m taking care of that. I want to thank Marcus for all he has done for me.”
Martha’s face lit up. “How nice. I’m sure he’ll love it.”
Ashley retrieved clothes, toiletries and several pairs of shoes from her apartment, rushing through the whole thing as quickly as possible. She had to escape the smoke smell—it was everywhere. She didn’t even go into the kitchen. The pictures had been enough. She had her talks with Lieutenant Williams and the insurance adjuster out in the hall, then returned to Marcus’s apartment and threw everything in the wash. She left a message for the new contractor she hoped she’d be able to hire this time around, then embarked on her shopping trip, managing to remain under the radar for most of it, having to stop only once to take a quick photo and give an autograph.
When she returned to Marcus’s apartment, she changed into jeans and a tank top, getting right to work by first putting the cake layers in the oven. Memories hit her the minute the sweet fragrance of that golden sponge cake began to fill the kitchen. Every breath took her closer to home...the sticky South Carolina summer, magnolias and honeysuckle, and crisp air in the fall. It seemed so far off. Too far off. Part of her longed to be back there, to be plain old Ashley George, no cameras or billboards or publicity photos. It was nice no longer to struggle the way she had back at home, but those struggles had been replaced by new ones, the most profound of which was the nagging sense that she had money and a beautiful, charred apartment, but her life had become empty. She had no one to share this life she had built. And she had to wonder if she was sabotaging herself by still holding on to romantic thoughts of Marcus when so much pointed to the idea that they didn’t quite fit together—different personalities, divergent situations. If she were giving herself love advice, if she’d been the woman crying in a restaurant about a broken heart, she’d say that it might be the smart thing to move on. The problem was, she’d tried, and the only thing she’d learned in the process was that she had no talent for giving up on Marcus.
After carefully slicing the cake layers, she assembled the cake and gave it the finishing touches, pressing coconut to fluffy white cream cheese frosting—her mother’s twist on her grandmother’s traditional seven-minute icing. She stood back and admired her handiwork. The grits were cooking away on the stove, the shrimp and other ingredients prepped and waiting for Marcus to arrive home so she could throw it all together at the last minute.
He walked through the door and for a moment, she felt as self-conscious as could be. Was he going to think all of this was silly? Unnecessary? And why did he have to look so incredible after being at work all day? She usually looked as if she’d been run over by a train.
“What’s all this?” he asked, surveying the kitchen and loosening his tie.
She gave the grits a stir and turned back to him. “I gave Martha the night off. I’m making you dinner.”
“And there’s cake?” He swiped icing from the base of the plate.
“Hey. That’s for later.”
He flashed his green eyes at her. Every time he did that she suffered a bout of amnesia. It was impossible to remember a single bad thing that had ever happened between them. “Do I have a minute to change clothes?” He pointed at her. “From the look of things, I’d say I’m overdressed. Plus, I can’t wait to get out of this suit.”
Out of this suit. That mental image was going to stick with her for a while. “Of course.”
* * *
She’s making me dinner. And how lovely the sight of her in his kitchen was after a hectic day at the office. He knew better than to think that this would be a normal occurrence if he and Ashley were a couple. She’d be busy with work. He’d be similarly occupied. But it was a nice fantasy.
He quickly changed into jeans and a Cambridge Rowing Club T-shirt. Much better. Wearing a suit to the office was one of the worst parts of his day. “It really smells incredible.” He approached Ashley from behind as she worked at the cooktop.
“Almost ready to eat. I just need to finish up the shrimp.”
“Is it okay if I open a bottle of wine? I trust a white will work with the meal?”
She nodded, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Yes. Perfect.”
He fetched the wine and two glasses, filling them just as she was spooning the meal into shallow bowls.
“Ready?” he asked, nodding toward the dining area.
“I’ll meet you in there.”
The table was set perfectly with placemats and linen napkins, and she’d thankfully had the sense to put them at one end, next to each other. She’d even dimmed the chandelier overhead. He couldn’t escape the romance of it. Was she being kind? Or did she see the opportunity he was so eager to take? He really wanted the chance to redeem himself, or at least to know for certain whether they had any business being together.
“No candles?” he asked.
“Considering what happened yesterday, I thought it best we avoid fire.” She set down his plate before him and took the seat next to his.
“Smart.” He laughed quietly, holding up his wine glass. “A toast to everyone being safe and sound.”
She gently clinked her glass against his. “Thank goodness.”
He took a bite of the meal she’d prepared—succulent sautéed shrimp with bacon and scallions atop a cheesy, creamy substance that closely resembled porridge. “This is delicious. What is this mixture at the bottom of the dish?”
“They’re grits. I’m guessing you’ve never had them.”
He shook his head “Not once. They’re good.”
“It’s dried, ground corn. Put in enough butter and cheese and you’ll think you died and went to heaven. I practically grew up on them. They are, as my mother would say, dirt cheap.”
He studied her, considering what she’d said. “Is she a real bargain shopper?”
“She is, but it was a necessity, too. We never had much money and things got a bit dire after we had a fire.”
Now he was even more confounded. “No. A fire?”
She nodded and looked at him with an expression much like the one he’d seen her wear last night—vulnerable, but strong-willed. “Yes. We lost our house to one when I was ten.”
His heart seized up in his chest as she told him the story. Her family lost everything. It led to years of struggle. He couldn’t fathom that particular loss. She’d had such a potent reminder of it last night. Reaching across the table, he grasped her hand. The gesture was forward and intimate, but it was his only inclination. “I’m so sorry, Ash. I can only imagine what was going through your mind last night.”
“Last night is still a blur, but yes, it brought back a lot of bad memories. I don’t like to think about it too much or it’ll just make me sad. Nobody wants a sad houseguest.”
“You can be sad if you want to. You should allow yourself to process it.”
“I’ll process it a lot better once I meet with my new contractor on Monday.”
