Carolina Mist Read online

  “And we had to get all dressed up, and you had to serve hors-d’oeuvres to all the little old ladies.” He half-smiled at Abby for the first time since they had exchanged words in the kitchen.

  “And as soon as they began eating, we snuck out and ran down to the cove…”

  “And I pulled off that tie and pitched it off the dock.” He chuckled, and the memory seemed slowly to erase the traces of the earlier tension from his face.

  “And are you a lawyer also, Alissa?” Belle smoothed her napkin onto her lap and attempted to divert Melissa’s attention from the giggling duo at the end of the table.

  “It’s Melissa,” the woman corrected Belle, more firmly this time, “and yes, I am. My daddy started the firm in Atlanta with one of his brothers about thirty years ago. We now have offices in five cities throughout the South,” she announced with a good deal of family pride. “Alex is one of the few Yankees Daddy ever hired. Daddy thinks he shows enormous promise.” She smiled ever so sweetly as she added, “And so do I. He’s just a tiger.” She wrinkled her pert little nose and winked in Abby’s direction. “In court, that is, of course.”

  Abby concentrated on cutting the thin slice of white meat, which was beginning to take on the form of Melissa’s little heart-shaped face. Abby gave it an extra stab, right about where that pouty little mouth would be.

  “Carrots, anyone?” she asked.

  “Why, yes, dear.” Belle accepted the porcelain bowl. “Isn’t this just the loveliest dinner? Abigail is simply the most wonderful cook.”

  “Everything is excellent, Abby.” This from Alex, who was submerged behind a stack of carefully seasoned green beans. “Makes me think of all the Sunday dinners we had, right here in this room. No one cooked like Leila.”

  “Well, I was very fortunate to have had her as a mentor in the kitchen.” Abby smiled at him from across the table. “And lucky to have found her old recipes in the pantry.”

  “My, you cook like a pro, bake scones from scratch, and make home repairs, too,” Melissa drawled. “Why, you’ll just make the cutest little housewife for one of these local boys.”

  Abby choked. “Excuse me,” she said as she rose from her chair and headed for the kitchen.

  “Are you all right, dear?” Belle asked with some concern.

  “I’m fine. I just need to check a few things in the kitchen.”

  We’ll start, she grumbled silently as she swung the kitchen door wide, with my blood pressure. Then we'll move on to my temper. She took a glass and filled it with water, counting the sips until she reached twenty. She simply could not afford to let Melissa’s condescending attitude rattle her.

  Alex was still happily eating away as Abby reseated herself at the table.

  “Well, isn’t this nice to be together on Christmas,” Belle said. “Though, of course, it isn’t quite the same without Leila.”

  “Gran, I think we need to talk about that. About Leila.” Alex added a small pile of new potatoes—his third—to his plate.

  “There’s really very little to say, dear. She is dead, you know.” Belle squirmed, not anxious to have the conversation turn to unpleasant reality just yet.

  “I understand that, Gran. I’d like to know when and how.” He put his fork down quietly.

  “It was September the first, dear,” Belle sighed. “Leila always made breakfast—she did all the cooking, of course—and on that morning, she just never came downstairs. I had her tea all ready and waiting for her, as I always did, but she simply did not come down.”

  Belle related her tale with the same mix of bewilderment and fear that she must have felt that day some months earlier.

  “Well, when she hadn’t made so much as a peep by eight-thirty, I went back up. And there she was, sleeping soundly. At least, I thought she was sleeping. And knowing how Leila hated to oversleep, I thought to wake her. But she was gone, you see?” Belle spread her hands out before her, as if awaiting an answer. When none came, she continued.

  “I tried everything to rouse her, you understand. When she wouldn’t wake up, I came down here and called Naomi. Well, she was over here in a shot, bless her heart. Took one look at Leila and said, ‘Well, for heaven’s sake, Miz Matthews. Miz Cassidy has passed on in her sleep!’ ” Belle’s hand hovered over her heart as if to stop its fluttering. “Now, of course, it had never occurred to me that Leila would be dead. I mean, it was so unlike her to stay in bed so long, but dead…”

  “I’m sure that was just the most ghastly shock.” Melissa sought to be a part of the drama.

  “Gran, why didn’t you call me?” Alex asked gently.

  “I wasn’t really sure just where you were,” she hedged.

  “Come on, Gran. I was in Boston. You knew that.”

  “I must have forgotten.” Belle dabbed her napkin to her lips. “I’m almost ninety years old, Alexander. One does tend to become forgetful about things.”

  Abby suppressed a giggle as she gathered up the dinner plates. Belle could probably tell you exactly what she wore on her very first day of school, right down to the color of her hair ribbons. Her attempts at playing the doddering old woman were laughable.

  “Well, then, I will leave my business card with Abby, so that you won’t have that excuse should another crisis arise,” Alex was saying, and Abby looked over her shoulder in surprise as he did so. Good grief, was he buying into Belle’s act? “But I still don’t understand why Abby wasn’t here with you all that time.”

  “Abby was in Philadelphia, Alexander, though I didn’t know that at the time. Leila’s lawyer tracked her down.”

  “What were you doing in Philadelphia?” He turned his attention to Abby.

  “I was working for an investment firm,” she told him.

  “Doing what, exactly?” He leaned back in his chair.

  “Investment counseling.” She tried to appear blasé. “Vice president of new accounts.”

  Melissa’s flat smile seemed to insinuate, Of course you were, dear. And I’m Mother Teresa. “Now, why would you leave a position like that to come all the way down to this quaint little town?” Melissa’s eyes narrowed.

  “The company was taken over in a merger,” Abby reluctantly admitted.

  “And you were let go.” Melissa pointed out the obvious with a smile.

  “Yes.”

  “But now you have this handsome old house, in this sweet little town, and Miz Matthews to keep you company,” Melissa cooed, happy to take advantage of the opportunity to pour a little salt into the wound she had just forced open. “Who could ask for anything more? Why, I’ll bet the social life around here just leaves you breathless.”

  “Why, actually, it does.” Abby squared her jaw and glowered across the table. “Just last week, we were as busy as a couple of beavers. Let’s see, now, on Friday night, we had the lighting of the tree down on the town green. Cocoa and cookies for everyone back at the Primrose Cafe, of course. Then, on Saturday, we had the church Christmas pageant, couldn’t have missed that. Now, mind, all this follows on the heels of a month of revelry—the church bazaar, the ham supper at the firehouse—did I leave anything out? Oh, the Christmas house tour two Sundays ago. No one who’s anyone in Primrose misses the house tour.”

  “It’s all just as I remembered it,” Alex said wistfully. Abby and Melissa both turned to stare at him.

  “That’s what I loved best about Primrose. All those wonderful community events that made life so special here,” he told them. “I sure have missed it. It sure is good to be back.”

  Belle took a sip of wine, hiding her pleasure behind the rim of the glass. Things were looking up.

  Melissa rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

  “Alex, could you give me a hand with clearing the table?” Abby asked sweetly.

  “Of course.” He stood up, lifting the turkey platter with one hand.

  “Abby,” he said when they’d gone into the kitchen, “I still don’t understand why Gran was alone here so long.”

  “Alex,
I didn’t know Leila had died until I got the letter from Tillman in October,” she told him. “Then it took me a while to get some things settled up there.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to admit that she’d spent six weeks in a frenzy of job hunting.

  “And that’s when you found that Gran was living here?”

  “That’s right. Just as you found out when you showed up today,” she said as they passed back into the dining room.

  “I see.” He nodded slowly, putting it all together, offering Abby a smile of apology for his earlier accusations of granny abandonment. “But, Gran, I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me about Leila. All those times I called…”

  “I’m sure I must have mentioned it, dear.”

  “And I’m sure you did not. The last time I called, you told me she was napping.”

  “Now, did I say that?” Belle shook her head slowly, as if trying to recall. “I just get so forgetful sometimes.”

  Abby’s head swiveled around as she reached for the empty vegetable bowls. Why was Belle persisting in this absurd imitation of one whose faculties came and went?

  Belle’s mind and memory were as sharp as a tack. She glanced over at Alex to see if he was falling for his grandmother’s little act. The lines gathering on his brow assured her that he was.

  “All the more reason why you should not be alone here,” he told Belle with gentle concern.

  “But I’m not alone, dear.” Belle smiled. “Abigail is here now, and she takes excellent care of me. And you’re close enough to come and help out whenever we need you.”

  “Absolutely whenever.” He nodded.

  Melissa’s eyes narrowed, and her lips grew taut over her teeth as her face settled into an unpleasant mask.

  “How many for coffee?” Abby asked brightly from the doorway.

  “And what marvelous surprise do you have for dessert, Abigail?” Belle tapped her fingers in happy anticipation, hoping it would be something with chocolate.

  “Dessert?” Abby stopped halfway through the diningroom door. She turned and looked at the apples piled in the centerpiece along with the pine cones, sprigs of boxwood, and trails of ivy. Those same apples had been destined for the apple pie. That very apple pie she had not made.

  “Ah, dessert will be a real surprise, Belle. It’s… I’ll bring it out in a minute.”

  "Dessert,” she whispered aloud to the empty kitchen. Even she couldn’t throw something together in forty-five seconds.

  Panicked, she dialed Naomi’s number.

  “Abby, is that you?” Naomi said. “Speak up, honey, I can’t hear you.”

  “I can’t speak up,” Abby whispered into the phone. “I said, do you have any desserts left over?”

  “Why, sure. We have some peach pie and some pecan pie and, let’s see here, a few slices of coconut cake.”

  “No, no. I need a whole something. Something that hasn’t been cut yet.”

  “Well, the only thing that’s not been cut is the Yule log my sister brought over last night.”

  “Can I have it?” Abby cut her off.

  “Sure, Abby, but…”

  “Could you bring it right over? Right now?” Abby pleaded desperately.

  “Yes, but Abby…”

  “Thank you, thank you.” Abby breathed a sigh of relief. “And Naomi, would you bring it to the back door?”

  Abby was waiting for Naomi as she walked up the driveway, the Yule log perched on a silver tray.

  “Abigail, what is going on here?” She laughed as she handed the tray to an obviously frazzled Abby. “You and Belle planning on a little sugar binge to top off the holiday?”

  “Belle invited Alex to spend Christmas Day with us—without telling me, I might add—and the apples went into the centerpiece instead of a pie because I thought we needed a centerpiece. I mean, I did intend to bake the…”

  “Alex is here? Now?” Naomi’s eyes widened at the news. “But how lovely for Belle. And for you. How’s it going, after all these years?”

  “Not so good,” Abby told her as they filed through the back door. “We sort of got off on the wrong foot, and he brought along…”

  “Well, I just have to poke my head in and say Merry Christmas.” Naomi grinned and disappeared through the door into the dining room.

  Three minutes later, Naomi was back. “Abigail, who is that woman in there?”

  “She’s with Alex.” Abby turned her back.

  “I know she’s with Alex.” Naomi plunked herself down on the nearest kitchen chair. “Just who is she? In his life, I mean?”

  “I know they work for the same law firm. Which her daddy and uncle own, by the way. Beyond that, I’m not sure. Naomi, you didn’t tell them that you brought over that Yule log, did you?”

  “What? Of course not. Are you trying to pass that off as your own?”

  Abby nodded, her lips drawn into a tight smile.

  “Why would you do that? Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Naomi’s eyes lit with mischief. “Abigail McKenna, are you aiming to seduce that man with food?”

  “I can’t deny the thought crossed my mind.” Abby sat down opposite her friend at the small table.

  “I always knew it.” Naomi grinned triumphantly. “I always knew you two would end up together. Is this just the most romantic thing?” She pounded her fist twice on the table to emphasize her glee.

  “No, no, Naomi, see…” Abby attempted to explain.

  “Oh, my stars, Abby, it’s just like one of those romance novels. Childhood sweethearts, torn apart by time and circumstances, reunited at last.” Naomi almost swooned.

  “Naomi, listen. It’s not like that.”

  “Now, tell me what happened. He showed up here today, and you just fell head over heels when you saw him again?”

  “Naomi,” Abby said sternly. “This is not love we’re talking about here. It’s a matter of convenience. I need Alex…”

  “Say no more.” Naomi held up one hand to stop her. “I understand completely. Passion often leads to love, Abby. It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

  “Naomi, I need him to help me figure out what to do about Belle.” Abby grasped Naomi’s arm, shaking it gently. “I can’t afford to keep this house. I cannot spend the rest of my life in Primrose. I need to find a job. I have to support myself. I need Alex to take responsibility for Belle so I can get on with my life.”

  “That’s all?” Naomi asked in mock horror.

  “That’s all.” Abby nodded.

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “What a pity.” Clearly disappointed, Naomi shook her head and stood up to let herself out. “What an absolute pity.”

  “Them’s the facts.” Abby shrugged.

  “Enjoy your dessert,” Naomi told her as she closed the screen door behind her. “But Ab?”

  “What?”

  “Didn’t I tell you he’d grown up real nice?” She grinned, the touch of mischief returning to dance in her eyes.

  Abby laughed out loud as she lifted the tray holding the Yule log and carried it into the dining room.

  16

  The rest of the evening seemed to go downhill after dessert, which Melissa had declined, saying, “Oh, I just never eat dessert, Abigail. I’d just end up looking like a house. Of course, you doin’ all that manual labor, you probably just burn it right off.”

  Abby had glared, mentally stuffing the meringue mushrooms, which adorned the Yule log, firmly into Melissa’s nostrils.

  With one eye on the clock, knowing she was running out of time, Abby was fitfully stacking dishes on the counter when Alex appeared in the doorway.

  “Can I give you a hand?” he asked.

  “Sure.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a linen towel. “You can dry as I get these washed up.”

  “Great.”

  She ran hot water over the plates, then stacked them on the counter while she filled the old porcelain sink, mentally searching for her opening line. She just couldn’t say,
Look, Alex, I want to leave Primrose, so you are going to have to get your grandmother out of this house by the time I sell it.

  “Abby, I owe you an apology. If I’d thought before I opened my mouth, I’d have known that you’d never have deliberately left Gran here alone all that time.” The apology came easily, without embarrassment or hesitation. The brown eyes that had earlier snapped in anger were once again soft and warm as molasses. “It was just such a shock, finding out that Leila was dead. And imagine Gran forgetting to tell me.”

  “Alex, Belle did not forget.” Abby handed him a wet plate. “She didn’t want you to know.”

  “Didn’t want me to know?” He laughed. “How long did she think she could get away with that?”

  “Apparently, she got away with it for about three months,” she reminded him.

  “That’s my fault. I should have made time to visit before this. I just got all caught up with this new job—you know how you get when you let your job absorb you?”

  “Yes, unfortunately, I know all too well.” She nodded. “It’s been years since I visited with Aunt Leila. Far too many years. And I regret it more than I can tell you. I can still hardly believe that she left everything to me, after the way I neglected her.”

  “She loved you, Abby. And she knew how much you loved this house. I think she always intended for you to have it.” He took another plate from the rack. “Besides, you always said someday you’d live in Primrose. How many people get to live their dreams?”

  The dream, a tiny voice inside her threatened to confess aloud, was to live in Primrose with you.

  “And you don’t know how lucky you are,” he continued. “I have such wonderful memories of this place. The happiest times of my life were spent in Primrose. You don’t know how much I envy you, coming back here to stay.”

  “Well, Alex, that’s something I need to talk to you about.” She took a deep breath and prepared for the launch.

  Melissa chose that moment to be helpful. “Abby, here’s the dessert plates and the cups. I’ll be back in a second with the saucers.” She flashed an efficient smile at Alex as she blew in, then back out, only to return with the promised dishes in hand.