Page 16 of Moonshine and Magnolias
“You don’t know the grounds or the stories or even what to do.”
“Which is why she gave me the box. Your grandmother Maybelle was very thorough. And it’s a benefit for me, too. My client isn’t sure when his ancestor came through here. Maybe he was a family friend. Maybe he was a soldier that stopped on his way back home. Maybe he was a guest when Fountenoy Hall opened its doors to boarders.”
Wendy pursed her lips. “Do you think your client was connected to my family?”
Hell, yes. Especially after that mention of her ancestors being moonshiners. “That’s what I’m here to find out. It will be easier if I can immerse myself in what life was like when this was a plantation and the transition to Reconstruction andwhen Fountenoy Hall became an Inn.” Rob studied her, one eyebrow raised, and took a calculated risk. “I’ve obviously walked into something here.”
Her hands twisted around the hair that hung over her shoulder, but he didn’t think she was aware of her actions.
“It’s fine.” She took out her phone with a small sigh. “My cousin is a little new to how things work. I’m going to need you to sign confidentiality agreements and give me permission to run a background check, since you’ll be working with kids. I don’t suppose you have references?”
“My clients are confidential. You could get a subpoena.”
She didn’t acknowledge his joke. “That won’t be necessary. I can fit you in right when the nightcap hour is over. Do you have time to do it then?”
“Will I have to confess about the pack of gum I stole when I was eight?”
Ah, there was the crack in her business persona. A hint of a smile stole over her lips and he went right back to thinking about kissing them.
“I think we can keep adolescent transgressions secret. I’m sorry to throw you off your schedule, but don’t do any work yet, okay?”
“Oh, man. I cleared my entire evening for this. Kidding,” he said when panic flashed across her face.
Laughter drifted through the library door and her head turned in that direction. “Will you excuse me for a minute?”
She smoothed out her skirt and headed to lobby without waiting for an answer. That made three times in this short span that she had to deal with something unplanned. No wonder she kept lists. Rob watched the sway of her hips while she walked, her fingers playing with the ponytail that hung over her neck.
One day, he’d like to see her with her hair down, swirling around her graceful, naked shoulders.
Another swallow of the whiskey banished that image, and he slid her book around to read the cover. Not surprising, it was the latest best-seller on leadership and skills and building a business infrastructure. He moved the book back in place.
The TOURS box beckoned to him from across the room. It would have beenbetter if he had done his research upstairs, but then he wouldn’t have heard about Wendy’s family running moonshine. Plus, walking around the grounds would give him and Hal unbelievable access to places that might have held Uncle Louis’s treasure.
Uneasiness at the duplicity twisted his gut, and he abandoned the work to stare at the impressive collection of books lining the walls. Clear glass covered a Jane Austen that stood next toThe Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Less valuable literature lay on the shelves accessible to anyone.
The air charged the moment Wendy came back into the room, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, he waited, exhaling a satisfied breath when she joined him. “Sorry about that. I wanted Brandi available when you become an official Fountenoy Hall employee later tonight.”
“No problem.” He lifted his finger to the glass protecting the battered copy ofLes Misérablesas if he could touch the literature inside. “First edition?”
“And in French.” Wendy reached for her drink, then used her finger to adjust the position of the leadership book she had been reading. “One of my ancestors knew someone who knew someone who knew John Slidell, who got the book in Paris when he was trying to talk Napoleon into supporting the South. Not many soldiers could read French, so it eventually ended up in the hands of my family.”
“Your house is a dream for any student of history.” He moved over to the secretary behind a glass display. Four large books stood on the shelves and a fifth sat open on the writing desk. The leather covers had faded with age, but the word Bible was visible on their sides.
“Beautiful,” Rob said. “Tell me about these.” Books were safe and entertaining. Books didn’t have solemn eyes that hid a yearning. Books didn’t make his body hard just by looking at them.
Okay, the old Bibles might, but that was just him being a history geek.
Wendy traced a line down the display case. “They’ve been in my family since the early 1800s. My many-times great grandmother used those Bibles to teach slaves to read, regardless of the consequences for breaking the law. The otherfamily members all knew, but no one stopped her.” Her mouth twisted. “I hate that whole part of my history, but I can’t deny where I came from. So there it is.”
“Think to what these books have born witness. The people who touched them, the gatherings, the guests.”
“I used to wonder that, too. Like, what happened within these walls that led to me being right here, right now.”
He hid the glance he gave her with another swallow of his drink. “Used to?”
“There’s no point anymore, is there? I’m here.” She shrugged and put down her mason jar. “I had to move around a lot when I was younger, but once I started high school, my mom and I moved here and Dad would go wherever his orders took him. I couldn’t control it either way. I can’t go back, so there’s no reason to waste time thinking about it.”
“Don’t let any of my clients hear you say that.”
