Southern Hospitality

by Sally Falcon

  “That’s crazy,” he shot back, ignoring her caustic jibe. When Tory simply raised her eyebrows and pointed to the list, he was forced to pick up the rumpled papers. He looked at his answers from her point of view. Galling as it might be, he had to admit she was right. How had his life become so dull?

  “Okay, let’s take another tack,” Tory announced after a few minutes. “If you were in an elevator with three other people, a man and two women, what would you do when the doors opened?”

  “Is this one of those trick questions? You’re not going to ask me about the color of a bear passing the window, or who lies in the house next door to Mr. Green, are you?”

  “Pardon?” Tory gave him a quizzical look, then seemed to understand his question. “Oh, those silly logic problems. No, this is just idle curiosity from my experiences visiting the North.”

  Logan stood up and began pacing in the small space allowed by the octagon structure. This was something important to Tory, so he had to be careful with his answer. She had the strangest thought pattern of any woman he’d ever encountered. Others had questioned him about when the Herrington family settled in the Massachusetts Bay Colony, or the exact net worth of H.P.G. in round figures. The elevator question was definitely a new approach, or was it?

  “Well, I’d get out of the elevator, if it was on the floor I wanted,” he finally managed, almost making it sound like a question.

  “Uh-huh.” Tory nodded slowly, seeming to analyze this bit of trivia the same way she had his list of answers. “Okay, if you saw that a person had a flat tire near you in a parking lot, what would you do?”

  “Feel sorry for them I suppose,” he answered, still hesitant. He couldn’t figure out where she was heading, but he wasn’t about to admit he’d never changed a tire in his life and wouldn’t know what to do if he had such a problem.

  “Uh-huh.” The little furrows in Tory’s forehead deepened as the corners of her mobile mouth dipped downward.

  “Is there a reason behind all this?” Logan felt compelled to ask at this negative omen. The conversation was completely out of control. He wasn’t used to being the one ill at ease. He was accustomed to having the upper hand, being in control.

  “I was curious about the difference in attitudes between your environment and mine.” She gave a careless shrug that made him feel more restless, and he continued his pacing.

  “I get the impression that you weren’t suitably impressed,” he remarked, trying to appear nonchalant. This obsession she had about the difference between North and South didn’t bode well for furthering their relationship. He had to show her it was ridiculous.

  Tory shrugged again, tilting her head to the side to watch his restless strides. “It’s nothing personal. I was simply testing a theory. Hardly anyone in the North seems to hold doors open anymore, as well as forgetting a few other niceties while they’re rushing around at hyper-speed. Everyone’s too preoccupied with their own business to take the time to remember common courtesy. Do you know that last week when I had a flat tire downtown, three men I’d never met before argued over who was going to change my tire for me?

  “How nice.” He gave her what he thought was a noncommittal smile, but it had Tory looking at him strangely. He clenched his jaw, hoping she wouldn’t notice the telltale sign of his precarious control. No one questioned a Herrington’s upbringing, especially an opinionated young woman who went out of her way to find fault with anything that came from above the Mason-Dixon line. After all, his family was eating off crystal and china while her ancestors were probably still scouring the woods for beavers and raccoons as fashionable attire.

  “Aren’t you being a little judgmental about someone you’ve known for a short time? I could make a few sweeping accusations about you, with the same limited knowledge,” he finally managed in a suppressed growl, wondering how one woman could make him experience desire and anger at the same time. He glared at her for good measure, standing at his full height with his hands on his hips.

  “Such as?” Tory asked with a mixture of confidence and wariness in her expression that told Logan he’d finally shaken her out of her earlier mood. Schooling his features to maintain a placid expression, he continued, “You live rent free on your father’s property, drive a succession of borrowed classic cars, and seem to have plenty of spare time on your hands. What do you think I would assume from all that, Ms. Planchet?”

  His smile was a masterpiece of superiority, one he’d used for years at restaurants with inferior food and poor service, or anytime he held the upper hand. When she didn’t answer immediately, he gave her his summation. “I see a person with no real responsibility passing judgment on me. Like I said, you live rent free, have your meals prepared for you, drive a fleet of expensive cars, and have a nice little hobby in catering, but you think I need some lessons on how to live. Fascinating.”

  Tory gave him a level stare, meeting his accusing look with placid maple eyes showing no sign of irritation. “Now that you’ve got that out of your system, can we get back to the main topic of discussion?”

  “Has anyone ever threatened to strangle you?” he asked earnestly, but he could feel the tension leaving his body. For some unknown reason, he suddenly had to keep himself from smiling at her.

  “Most of the time it’s not strangling. My brothers and T.L. seem to think a hickory switch does the trick,” she answered honestly, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

  “I’d stay out of New England, if I were you.” He unbent enough to return her smile.

  Giving him a guileless look, she asked, “Why is that?”

  “They’d probably bring back burning witches at the stake, just in your honor.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I don’t plan to leave Little Rock anytime soon.” She got to her feet, rubbing her palms against her jean encased thighs. “We need to get these dishes cleaned up before we go shopping.”

  “Shopping?” He couldn’t figure out where this was going to lead, but he wasn’t going to lose his temper again. He’d play by her rules for now, staying calm and collected. Nothing was going to upset him.

  “This ne’er-do-well has to go to the grocery store and buy supplies for the party she’s catering Saturday night on the Spirit. So we’re going to the grocery store to give you another experience at the unknown,” she explained, while gathering up the remains of their lunch.

  “The Spirit?”

  “A riverboat on the Arkansas River, and it’s scheduled for a retirement party.” Tory picked up Logan’s questionnaire and carefully folded it before putting it in her hip pocket. He couldn’t resist watching her slide the paper into the snug material, then tried to look innocent when she caught him staring.

  He smiled at her and took the tray, waiting patiently for her to load it with their dirty dishes. This was something the true southern gentleman would do, wasn’t it? Staring at the roof line of the gazebo should keep him out of trouble for the next five or ten minutes.

  Yes, pushing a shopping cart around the grocery store should get Logan’s mind off my body, Tory decided, thankful his questionnaire was helping her keep her mind off his. The man actually had his groceries delivered, and a housekeeper who did his cooking. And he thought she had no responsibilities.

  Tory studied Logan’s profile, thrown into stark relief by the sunshine that outlined his lean frame. He’d looked magnificent a few minutes ago when he glowered at her. She felt a twinge of regret. This wasn’t the quiet, sensitive man she was looking for to fill the empty spaces in her life. After Reed, she’d evaluated exactly the type of man that would fit into her life. A stubborn, self-possessed Yankee didn’t fit the pattern she’d designed, no matter how tempting his amazing chest, or how compelling his elusive smile.

  Her tactic to defuse his anger had worked perfectly. He was still sensitive about being sent to Arkansas, so anything she said was bound to set him off. They were on safe ground as long they didn’t talk about sex or Logan’s family. She planned to steer c
lear of anything that even looked controversial. She wasn’t about to be the one on the defensive. Whenever she lost her temper, she always got in trouble, or landed in Logan’s arms, which was the same thing.

  If she hadn’t realized it before, reading his answers confirmed that the man wasn’t interested in commitment or emotional responsibility. To Logan, an affair was simply a means to satisfy his physical needs, his emotions weren’t involved. It was apparent in the way he went from hot to cold. One minute he was logical and composed, the next he was angry and passionate. Unfortunately, he was calm and calculating in his pursuit of her, not the victim of his emotions.

  Why did she offer to be his friend? It was probably the dumbest thing she’d done in her entire life, except maybe letting T.L. talk her into being nice to Logan. She couldn’t wait for the old goat to get back from Texarkana and take Logan off her hands.

  Her mind kept betraying her at the oddest times. Like right now as she allowed Logan to walk ahead of her toward the house. An image of Logan lying in bed wearing nothing but a smile flashed across her mind. Shaking her head, she began reciting her menu for the Ferguson retirement party and compiling her grocery list. The ingredients for Caesar salad and pecan tarts had to take her mind off how well Logan Herrington filled out a pair of slacks.

  “Do I have to talk to the girl behind the popcorn counter about her personal life?” Logan asked above the noise of the theater lobby a few days later. He looked around him in horrified fascination at the jumble of arms and legs, and the piercing voices of the children attending the five o’clock movie. Ty Daniel and Amanda Sue stood next to him, clinging to Tory’s legs as they stood in the concession line.

  “No, I think it’s too crowded for a lengthy conversation,” Tory admitted, biting back a smile, “but don’t forget to say, yes, ma’am or no, ma’am.” Over the past few days she had been demonstrating a laid back approach, showing him how to interact with the people in the grocery store and in two restaurants. He’d heard about the grocery clerk’s forthcoming gall bladder operation, looked at the pictures of one waitress’s grandchildren, and knew every detail of another waitress’s doomed love life. He’d been amazed that Tory hadn’t known any of these people beforehand. It just wasn’t done that way in Boston.

  But that was the only comment he’d made. He’d gotten through each experience without a single objection. It worried her. He held the door open for her wherever they went, pulled out her chair, and always stood when she or another woman entered the room. And although she should be happy with the progress he’d made, she was uneasy.

  “Logan, I’ll take the kids over by the theater entrance while you fetch the goodies. Remember, one Big Bomber buttered popcorn, a small box of regular popcorn, two small drinks—orange and grape—a medium diet cola, and whatever you want to drink. They’ll give you a box, and we’ll need lots and lots of napkins.”

  She led the children away, trying not to snicker at the stunned expression on Logan’s face. What she was doing was really rotten, but Logan needed more exposure to the real world. There wasn’t anything more real than going to the early showing of a Disney movie. Fleetingly, she wondered if Logan had ever seen a Disney movie, even as a child.

  He’d agreed to the expedition without a quarrel, but he’d only seen Curtiss’s kids over dinner when they were out numbered three-to-one by adults. So far, Ty Daniel and Amanda Sue had been angels, but they could turn into demons at any time. Then she’d see if Logan was really learning anything.

  It didn’t take long for the children’s transformation to take place. Logan herded them into the theater and found them seats, still looking a little shell-shocked from the concession stand.

  “No ice,” Amanda Sue snapped, pushing her grape drink at Logan, who was sitting between her and Ty Daniel. She’d waited until the opening credit of the movie to start her protest.

  “It has ice,” Logan whispered helpfully, prying back the top to show her.

  “No ice,” she repeated louder than before and pushed at the cup, splashing grape drink on his beige twill slacks.

  “Oh, dear, I forgot,” Tory began contritely because she’d forgotten about the child’s dislike of ice. She almost choked on her words at the accusing look Logan gave her. “She doesn’t like ice in her drink. Give it to me, and I’ll take it out.”

  “Shhhhh,” hissed a voice from behind them as Tory awkwardly made the transfer. She was thankful that the theater used ice cubes instead of crushed ice.

  With the ice situation handled, they settled back to watch the opening credits. The minute the movie started in earnest Ty Daniel spoke up, at the top of his lungs, “Logan, I have to pee.”

  Tory’s heart almost melted at the stunned look Logan gave her. She’d volunteer to take her nephew, but it would only create a scene. Ty Daniel was into a macho stage, refusing to be taken into the women’s restroom. She just shrugged when Ty Daniel tugged on Logan’s sleeve and proclaimed his need again. This was a situation that she hadn’t anticipated.

  “For heaven sakes, mister, take your kid to the restroom,” demanded the same voice from behind them.

  A half hour later, when Logan hadn’t returned with his charge, Tory was about to send out a search party. She wasn’t sure who she’d be rescuing—Logan or Ty Daniel. Just as she was getting to her feet, the shuffling at the end of the aisle caught her attention. Logan was carrying Ty Daniel by his arm pits, holding him out in front of him as he worked his way to their seats. After tossing Ty Daniel, who was happily sucking on a red licorice whip, into his seat, Logan met Tory’s wide-eyed look over the boy’s head. He gave her a semblance of a smile, really more a grimace, before slouching down into his seat.

  Although he didn’t seem to be too angry, she knew that she was going to pay for this. It seemed like such a good idea this morning when Leeanne called to remind her of her promise to treat the kids to the Disney movie. Sneaking another look at Logan, she slunk down into her seat as Amanda Sue began quizzing Logan about every minute detail of action on the screen.

  “Does your sister-in-law ever talk?” Logan asked in the blessed quiet of Tory’s car. They’d delivered the Children from Hell to their parents, staying to have coffee with Curtiss and Leeanne after the little ones had been hosed down and put to bed. He was surprised to discover that he missed the children’s chatter during the quiet, adult conversation. Especially after both Ty Daniel and Amanda Sue had hugged him goodnight and thanked him for taking them to the movie.

  “Of course, she talks,” Tory answered absently, “Why?”

  Logan smiled under the cloak of the dark interior of the car. Tory had been wary of him since they’d left the theater. She’d spent most of the visit at her brother’s house eyeing the grape drink stain on his pants and the licorice smears on his shirt. When he’d laughingly explained the mishaps to Curtiss and Leeanne, Tory looked at him as if he were a ticking bomb.

  “I thought I might have done something wrong. I seem to make her nervous,” and she isn’t the only one, he finished silently.

  “She’s shy and gets nervous around strangers sometimes, so she defers to Curtiss quite a bit,” she explained, seeming to come out of her abstract thoughts. “Leeanne’s very sweet and a wonderful mother.”

  “I wasn’t criticizing her. I was just curious.” Logan thought over the matter for a minute. “You seem a little defensive about my comment.”

  Tory braked for a red light and glanced in his direction. “I’m sorry. This is something my other sister-in-law loves to harp about.”

  “But I don’t remember that she was all that talkative the night I met your family.”

  “Exactly. For different reasons, my sisters-in-law let their husbands take center stage.” Her voice was shaded by disdain as she accelerated through the intersection. “Leeanne’s shyness keeps her from speaking to strangers, and Adele thinks that the man of the house—in this case Sanders—always has more interesting things to say.”

  “Are we a little milit
ant on the subject of marriage?” Although he was teasing, Logan really wanted to know the answer.

  “Not really. Just on women who become idiots when they get married. Adele was a very successful realtor before she married Sanders ten years ago. She’s well read, well traveled, and a witty conversationalist—until she’s with my brother.” Tory couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice. “Leeanne has always been shy, and unfortunately, Curtiss takes advantage of the fact sometimes. He lets her wait on him hand and foot, knowing she’s not going to object.”

  “I think you should meet Uncle Preston’s wife, Babs. She’d restore your faith in the sanity of married women,” Logan declared, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

  “Logan, I’m serious about this. Abby Bush is another prime example. I swear that she hasn’t made a move outside the house by herself since she married Gary last year. He even drives her back and forth to work every day.” She slapped her hand against the steering wheel to emphasize her point, getting into the spirit of her monologue. “This is a woman who’s been my second-in-command for three years. I could always depend on her if I couldn’t be there to supervise a job. I made her a manager of my West Little Rock shop, but I wonder if she’s going to be able to make a decision without checking with Gary first.”

  “Bet you can’t name four?” Logan challenged.

  “Name four what?” Tory stopped at the gate to punch in the security code.

  “Name four wives who are walking dishrags,” Logan continued, as she steered the car through the gate. For some reason her attitude towards marriage bothered him. Maybe it was because it seemed at odds with her usual optimistic outlook.

  Tory didn’t answer, letting the silence continue until she stopped the car near the back of the main house. She didn’t wait for him to come around the car to open her door. When Logan rounded the front of the car she was standing with her hand resting on the open door. “You know, I can’t think of a fourth wife, but three out of four isn’t very good odds.”