Page 31 of Moonshine and Magnolias
Just perfect. “We’re not done yet. Now we have to visit the stables.”
His brother groaned. “Seriously?”
“For Uncle Louis. To break the Curse over House Upshaw and let generations of not-divorced couples pay homage to us every summer.”
That got Hal going through the remainder of the tour. He even asked questions about the recitation that Rob was able to incorporate. Finally, they ended up where they began.
“Tonight,” Hal said, then disappeared inside the house.
Chapter 07
Brandi had handled the Kiplings’ check out of Southern Belle, but she wasn’t around when Wendy opened the room to start the cleaning later that afternoon. She went into the private bath and grabbed the towels that covered the grey stonework along the floor.
Her little experiment with Rob had backfired. She sat down to talk, hoping he’d be boring and the spark that set her insides aflame would dull. Instead, he was funny and charming and she was increasingly aware of every move, every breath, every heartbeat.
All her life, she’d been able to shut off her own wants and desires. When her dad got new orders and she had to move for the umpteenth time. When any guy she ever liked in high school ignored her intelligence and went for bimbo instead. When she settled for being alone, convincing herself that she was happy.And after a while, she began to believe it. Until her mind laughed at her every time she was in the same space as Dr. Robert Upshaw.
The door to the room creaked open, and a glimmer of hope formed in her chest. So Brandi was a little late for their shared tasks. At least she was here.
Except when Wendy peeked out of the bathroom, it was Aunt Eulalee stripping the sheets off the four poster bed. “Now before you say anything aboutyour cousin, know that she was on her way up here and I sent her on an errand of my own.”
“For what?”
Eulalee sat on the mattress, rolling the bed sheets into a ball. Her lined face looked every one of her seven decades. “Truth is, Wendy, I don’t know if I can handle all the cooking for the special events by myself. The retirement party, Pansy Hamilton. Even the knitting circle. I’m not your grandma. You and Brandi are getting some sort of routine down with the rooms and serving food, but you’re absolutely no help whipping stuff up in the kitchen.” She smiled when she said it, taking the sting out of the truth.
“You’re not going to,” Wendy swallowed and fisted her hand in the towels, “going to retire, are you?” She couldn’t blame Eulalee if she did, even if it meant Wendy’s own plans would have to be readjusted.
“No! I was born here. And it’s been my home for the last ten years. Where would I go? Heavens, the thoughts you come up with.” Her aunt shook her head. “I just need some extra help is all. Brandi is putting a call out on your alumni social media things to see if there’s anyone local who can lend a hand in the kitchen when we need it.”
“That makes sense.” Wendy’s mind flipped to the budget and the extra money while she stepped into the hallway and dropped the towels down the laundry chute. “Did Grandma like playing poker?”
“Bridge was more her game. Why?” Eulalee followed her and dumped the sheets.
She hadn’t finished her research on the funds yet, so she didn’t answer.
Footsteps sounded outside the room, too light and fast to be anyone but Brandi. For once she wore the appropriate clothes on top, but the blue shirt was paired with khaki shorts. Wendy handed her a broom.
“No rest for the wicked,” Brandi said. “Message out in cyberspace, Aunt Eulalee.”
“Thanks, honey.”
“Hey, are you playing Pansy in the reenactment again?” Wendy asked. They left Southern Belle and moved to Fairhill, where the grandmother had been staying. Thank goodness the Upshaws kept their do-not-disturb sign on their door. Cleaning Rob’s trash and seeing his dirty clothes would not add to his mystery.
“Of course. They asked me a couple of days after the funeral.” Brandi pulled the towels off the bathroom rack and tossed them to Wendy. “One of these days I’ll find my own stalwart Captain and can pass the torch to someone else. But in the meantime, it’s pretty fun. Dressing up in those clothes, entertaining everyone.”
Wendy looked at her cousin’s reflection in the bathroom mirror and at her aunt sweeping the floor. An unexpected shot of longing hit her heart. The three of them working toward one goal, not keeping score, not in a competition. Just together. Her throat tightened at the image. It would never be permanent. Her cousin would prove untrustworthy. Any extra help wouldn’t be family, wouldn’t share the history. And Wendy was going to leave.
Brandi came out of the bathroom, a roll of toilet paper in her hand. “OMG I just got the most amazing idea.”
“If you can’t even wear the right uniform skirt, how do you expect to put on a hoopskirt every day?” Wendy asked.
“Funny. But I have another amazing idea. Why don’t you play Pansy this year?” She punctuated her statement by pitching the roll.
Wendy caught it easily and kept her face from showing a reaction. The problem with Brandi’s idea is that being Pansy required looks and charisma, which left Wendy unable to fill her shoes. Her cousin was a natural at engaging the crowds. And the reenactment brought hundreds of people to the Fountenoy Hall grounds every year. Who wanted a boring, whey-faced substitute for everyone’s favorite heroine? “If I do that, who’s going to be available in case of an emergency and get everything in order for the vendors and keep the performers on task and make sure the trash gets emptied?”
“You could just give me your to-do list and see how it goes.”
“Nice try. Not gonna happen.” Wendy tossed the paper back as the lobby bellchimed.
