Page 11 of Moonshine and Magnolias
The line was delivered with perfect straightness, but Rob grinned at her subtle sense of humor.
Mrs. Kipling put the peach back in her basket. “There’s a lot to this fruit that I didn’t know.”
“Pits were also helpful for the war effort in World War I.” Rob kept attention fixed on the higher branches when he spoke, but felt Wendy’s stare on him. “They were used with charcoal to gather toxic pollutants in gas masks.”
“Very good, Dr. Upshaw. Another gold star.” She picked a peach off the tree. “In the lobby, you’ll see a letter from 1917, written to my great-great-granddaddy by the governor of Georgia, commending his efforts in collecting the pits for the war effort.” She took a bite of the fruit, leaning forward to avoid the juices that dripped from her hand.
Rob stood, mesmerized, as her tongue reached out to lick her lips. “I would love to try some of that.” So centered was he on Wendy’s lips, the peach she tossed to him almost smacked him on the forehead.
“Eat up,” she said. “Enjoy the fruits of your labor.”
Did the serious innkeeper make another joke? He bit into the peach, keeping his eyes settled on hers.
He didn’t mean for it to be a repeat of their staring contest this morning. A look of challenge flashed across her face, but she kept the contact going. “Tasty, isn’t it, Dr. Upshaw?”
“Never had anything like it.”
“I’ll be sure to tell Aunt Eulalee you approve of our cultivation methods.” Satisfaction flitted across her face.
Their connection cut off when the notes of a harp played from her pocket. She pulled out her phone and turned off the sound.
“Is that your infamous schedule?” Rob asked.
“Yes. It’s a good thing my shoes are tied.”
Rob gave a snort of laughter as he recalled the conversation with Brandi from that morning. “I’d tie your laces if it helped you stay on task.”
Wendy graced him with a tiny grin as she put the phone back in her pocket. He’d consider that a success.
She hoisted one of the baskets. “We’ll bring these to the storeroom, and you all can take what you want.” She shot him a wide-eyed, innocent look. “Any requests for dessert tonight?”
Chapter 03
After chastising herself for her behavior with the resident doctor—which, okay, was fun, even if she couldn’t say it out loud—Wendy almost welcomed the need to enter the office. She shuffled along the hardwood floor, her pace slowing as she approached the vacant room. The Fountenoy Hall master ring was cold in her hand and she sifted through the keys so she didn’t have to think about what lay beyond the door. She had managed to avoid it before by asking her mom to bring her what she needed, like the ledger and other papers. If she did that again, her mom would start making sympathetic gestures. Going into the office would prove she didn’t need that kind of comfort.
What had Dr. Rob Upshaw been thinking, flirting with her like that? Her crack about dessert had made him glow with the kind of desire she saw directed at her cousin. Never at her. Which reminded her. Brandi still had to come downstairs for the vendor list. Sending the text wasn’t procrastination, it was something that had to be done. And now it had been a whole twenty minutes since she checked her Steward Hotels email. Her team might have sent a question. The lingering memories behind the wooden door could wait.
She leaned against the wall, entering brief replies to the ten emails that had accumulated in that time. When the indicator said zero new messages, she let out aslow, steady breath.
Okay. The office. Nothing special about it at all. Just another room.
Step one: get the stack of letters and anything else she needed. Step two: Leave the office and don’t look back. In and out in less than a minute. It didn’t matter whether she did the work in there or on her bed or in the library.
It would be nice to blame the rolling in her stomach on the sweet peach jelly filling from her breakfast pastry she finally snagged, but she couldn’t lie to herself. She needed to brace herself before stepping through the doorway.
The furniture didn’t have thoughts. The curtains couldn’t embrace her. The boxes stacked on the floor didn’t hold memories. It was just a room.
Tears that had been lurking since the funeral leaked out and slid down her cheeks. It was so much more. This was where Grandma spent her time and energy, her soul, to run Fountenoy Hall. Where she signed paychecks and wrote up menus and made reservations for brides and grooms. Wendy angled her head to wipe the inconvenient wetness away with her shoulder.
Without giving herself a chance to think, she unlocked the thick wooden door and pushed it open. Light filtered in through the window’s cheerful cherry-patterned curtains and reflected on the filing cabinets and dust particles dancing in the air. Traces of Grandma’s baby-powder scent surrounded Wendy like an embrace, and she wrapped her arms around her body to hold onto it. The barrier of unwelcome emotions kept her feet from crossing the threshold.
“I can do this.” She pressed her hand to the light switch on the wall, flipped it on. And remained in dim shadows. That reality took a moment to set in. “Seriously?” She flicked the switch a few more times in rapid succession with the same lack of results.
She needed a new bulb.
And a ladder. And a cousin who was eager to learn. And some ice cream. Chocolate. With marshmallows and fudge sauce and nuts.
And her grandma.
