Page 29 of Moonshine and Magnolias
Four words down. He could start thinking Pulitzer.
He stared out the window, seeing the open expanse of green lawn that led to the stables. His uncle may have walked that same track, rode the horses, picked peaches. Surely not all his time was spent foraging for the telltale odor of a still in the middle of Clayton’s land. Had he visited the museums? Walked along Main Street?
A half-snort, half-snuffling noise sounded from behind him, followed by a soft exhale of breath.
Rob froze and listened, but nothing moved and he heard nothing else. He balanced the notebook on the arm of the recliner and stood up.
Sock-covered feet peeked out at him from the chaise lounge in the corner. He stepped closer, following the feet up the body nestled deep in the cushions, the arms resting on a stomach, to the trail of drool oozing out of a man’s mouth. Not a ghost, then. A guest? The grandmother, Casagnes and his entourage, and Rob and his brother were the only patrons here. He couldn’t imagine the two large men or Wendy’s not-boyfriend being so blasé about their surroundings.
The man’s eyes were closed and he lay quiet and still and Rob hoped to God he was only sleeping and the sound he heard wasn’t a muted death throe. Did his chest move at all under his crossed arms? Rob inched closer. When the man flung a hand out, his motion was stopped by the raised armrest, but he hit the baseball cap resting on the side and it went sailing across the room. Rob jumped out of the way and banged into a chair.
“Eulalee?” the man mumbled as he sat up. “What was that?”
“Ah, no, sir.” Rob would have remembered seeing him around Fountenoy Hall, with his worn skin and graying hair. “Robert Upshaw.”
He blinked at Rob with a dull stare until his consciousness caught up to his brain. “Mac Selznick. I’m the produce guy.”
Okay, but that didn’t explain his current position slumping in the parlor. “Should I get Ms. Eulalee for you?”
“She knows I’m here. I’m biding time until she finishes up with the peaches.”He rubbed his eyes and nudged a canvas bag on the floor with his socked foot. Yarn poked out of the top along with several pairs of knitting needles. “She’s helping me knit. I hope to have my first sweater done in time for Chanukah.”
“A reachable goal, since it’s barely June.”
Mac shifted to the end of the lounge and held up the orange and red monstrosity. One arm was two feet too long and the other barely there, and the waist looked big enough to keep all the Maccabees warm for much longer than the celebrated eight nights. “I wanted it done last December, but I’ve had to adjust. Miss Eulalee said she’d give me a hand this time around.”
He’d need all the help he could get. “Well, good luck to you.”
Wendy entered the parlor carrying a glass of ice and pitcher filled with a deep gold liquid. She stopped upon seeing Rob and gave him a fleeting smile before turning her attention to the old man.
“Mr. Selznick, my aunt asked me to bring you this iced tea.” She placed it on the small table next to him. “She said she’ll be ready in two shakes.”
“Thank you, Wendy.”
She gave a nod, then looked at Rob.
He waited for her to speak. It was her turn, after all.
“What are you doing, Dr. Upshaw?”
That’s all she had? “I’ve finished going through the journals for the tour, Boss.”
“That’s fantastic. Do you have everything you need?”
“I have notes on all the relevant passages.” He reached for the notebook to keep his eyes from trailing over her body, cursing the damn boundaries she made clear when he wanted to kiss her in the library. And again in the orchard. “Putting the final touches on now.”
To his surprise, she sat on the couch and crossed one toned leg over the other. “On paper? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you without your tablet.”
“There’s something old fashioned about using a pencil that puts me in a more historical frame of mind.” He ran his hand along the thighs of his jeans and sat nextto her. Might as well see what she was up to. “I’ve never seen you without your phone.”
She took it out of her skirt pocket. “This ol’ thing?” She put it squarely in the center of the side table. “There. Now you have.”
He shook his head. “Still within reach.” Ignoring every part of him that screamed not to, he leaned across her.
She smelled even better up close, with the faint hint of shampoo wafting from her hair under the scent of peaches. Her breath hit his neck and his body hardened at the sensation. He scooped her phone off the table and put it on the one next to him. “There.”
She settled back on the sofa, the picture of casual relaxation, belied by her slightly reddened cheeks. “I have a reminder set for when I need to go back to work.”
He gave a huff of laughter. “Aren’t you always at work?”
