Page 84 of Moonshine and Magnolias
His hand caressed her shoulder and he kissed the top of her head. “Sure thing,mon caneton. You know where to find me.”
She waited with her arms folded across her chest, gripping her own forearms until she was alone. No wonder Rob had flirted with her instead of Brandi. She was a much easier target. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Letting herself feel. Reveling in the high of a new relationship. Relying on someone. Taking a chance. Only to be let down and broken. Her body drained its energy and all she wanted to do was sit and cry.
Never again.
Pieces of her mental armor snapped into place and she shoved any residual emotions away from her heart. None of this mattered. Even if she was forcing herself to pretend now, the belief would come if she let it.
She slipped back into the kitchen and hightailed it up the staircase. Once safely inside her room, she took her suitcase out of her closet.
It was a four-hour drive to Atlanta, but she’d make it in time to talk to the HRdirector and Tina about getting her job back at Steward Hotels. Even if she had to take a demotion. Brandi was ready. She could run Fountenoy Hall and Belle’s Medicinal Brewery with Aunt Eulalee. They didn’t need Wendy anymore. And Wendy needed to go home.
Chapter 17
The walls of Rob’s apartment vibrated with the pounding on his door. He ignored it in favor of popping an antacid from the roll that hadn’t left his side in the four days since he’d returned home. He rested his elbows on his knees and clicked a link on his laptop on the coffee table in front of him.
“Dammit, Rob!” Hal’s voice came through the door. “Let me in. I know you’re in there.”
Rob picked up a pencil and poised it over his notebook, ready to write down whatever useful tidbit he found while he scanned a promising a story on southern moonshine stills in the 1920s. “I’m not hiding. I’m just not letting you in.”
Grumbling and scraping noises sounded from the outside hallway before the door swung open. “You gave me a spare key a few years ago.”
“Great.” Rob leaned back on the sofa to stretch. He’d been in a hunched-over position for three hours that morning, ignoring calls from family and potential clients. What he was doing was too important.
Hal trudged into the apartment and plopped himself into the recliner next to the sofa. His feet thudded on top of the coffee table. “No one’s seen or heard from you since we came back. Mom thought you’d been caught under a pile of fallen books. I can see she’s not that far off.”
Rob moved the pile of notes he had amassed about Uncle Louis away from his brother’s large shoes. Research books lay open on the floor, all turned to texts on Prohibition and rumrunners. “I’ve been busy.”
Hal eyed the mess and heaved out a sigh. “You liked her. A lot. And now here you are, alone, like Dad, and Grandpa. Like Uncle Louis. Do you believe the curse now?”
Regret layered with the bitter truth in Rob’s chest. He had only himself to blame for his situation, not some family fable.
He could fix it. If Uncle Louis’s lost greatest treasure was somewhere on the grounds of the Inn at Fountenoy Hall, Rob was going to get it and hand it over to Wendy Marsh.
But first, he had to find it.
Not that he voiced any of this to his brother. “Maybe I’m doing this for me. I’ve read stories of revenuers being shot at, or run off the road, or lured into a swamp by a tale of illicit activity.” Rob hadn’t forgotten Wendy’s words about writing it all down. “Some are attributed, some aren’t. I’m hoping to find one about Uncle Louis.”
“Sounds exciting.” Hal’s dry tone suggested anything but. “Come across anything interesting?”
“Uncle Louis may have had a girlfriend. Caroline Clayton.”
“The woman in the photo from the dining room?”
“Yes,” Rob said. “And from the newspaper archive. I knew it had to be about a woman. I firmly believe he was the passenger and she was the driver of the car that crashed into the judge’s house.”
“How romantic.” Hal headed to the kitchen.
When a man describes a woman asfair as sunshine with eyes that match a brilliant, stormy skyand havinga pointed chin that turns her face into the shape of a heart, it was obvious he wasn’t writing in his journal for posterity. He was writing for love.
“I’m bored.” Hal opened a cabinet and took out a glass. “Let’s head down tothe bar and hit on some co-eds.”
“Because that’s not at all creepy.”
Hal poured something and added ice to his drink, but Rob didn’t look to see what it was. “When did you turn into such a boring old man?”
“Look, I have work to do.” Rob picked up a book from the stack and held it out to his brother. “So unless you’re going to help?”
Hal set his drink on the counter with a clank, then left the apartment.
