The Sweetest September. Liz Talley

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СКАЧАТЬ not sure. Through Saturday?”

      Abigail gave her the “you don’t know?” look and then glanced toward John, the unspoken question in her eyes.

      “At least through Saturday. Actually, I’m bringing Shelby to Thanksgiving dinner.”

      Abigail’s eyebrows rose nearly to her hairline. “Really?”

      Shelby swallowed, wondering if she should correct him or merely accept the fact she was stuck with John in Magnolia Bend for a week.

      “It’ll be nice to have a guest at our table. Friends are always welcome,” Abigail said, sliding another glance to John. The unstated questions literally pulsed in the quietness.

      Shelby knew Abigail wanted to grill John, but likely relied on Southern graciousness in order to bite her tongue. Shelby wasn’t from the South so she said, “Just so you know, we’re just friends. Met a few months back.”

      “Oh,” Abigail said, her gaze meeting Shelby’s. “I didn’t know John had started dating again.”

      “We’re not dating,” John said, settling his hands on his lean hips. “Like Shelby said we’re just friends.”

      “Yes,” Shelby agreed. “Just friends.”

      “But he’s brought you home to meet his family,” Abigail persisted, unconvinced.

      “I had some business to take care of down here,” Shelby said, setting the half-empty cup back on the antique tea cart with a clatter. “Getting to spend time with John is a bonus of sorts. Unfortunately, my health prevents me from flying back to Seattle and spending the holiday with my own family. John volunteered to help me get settled here for a few days, thinking I’d enjoy the small town atmosphere better than the busyness of Baton Rouge.”

      “I knew she’d like Laurel Woods...just wasn’t sure you’d have room,” John said.

      “I have room until Friday. This weekend the Candy Cane Festival starts, and I’m booked solid for a week. You’re welcome to stay until then. What about your health? Is there anything special I need to know?” Abigail looked worried, as if at any moment she might whip out Lysol and start spraying.

      “No, nothing contagious,” Shelby said, almost laughing. Almost. ’Cause there wasn’t anything really funny about being an unwed, unemployed single mother who’d conceived a baby in the bathroom of a roadside honky-tonk that also sold bait and beer during daylight hours. “I appreciate you putting me up on such short notice, but I think I’ll head to my room for a shower and an early night.”

      “Can I at least make you a sandwich?” Abigail volunteered. She didn’t look as worried anymore. “Ham? Turkey?”

      “If you have peanut butter and jelly, that would be perfect,” Shelby said, rising and scooping up her purse. “Thank you for the tea.”

      “Sure,” Abigail said, setting her cup on the cart and standing. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

      “I’ll walk her up,” John said to Abigail.

      Seconds later, they climbed the grand staircase to the second floor. The rooms were all marked by placards, most named after flowers. Shelby withdrew the old-fashioned skeleton key and inserted it in the keyhole, the whirring machinations releasing the lock. Vintage outside, modern inside.

      John pushed open the door and Shelby sucked in her breath.

      “Oh, wow,” she breathed out.

      “Yeah, pretty grand,” John said.

      The room had raspberry walls stretching up to a ceiling with insets and heavy crown molding. The huge bed sat on a platform, the green silk canopy gathered in the center, cascading down the sides of the ornately carved bed. Large linen European shams banked the profusion of needlepoint pillows and the plump duvet beckoned weary travelers to lay their burdens down and burrow within the depths. The elegant antique furniture complemented the room and the adjoining door gave a view of an enormous claw-foot tub.

      Shelby eyed her bag sitting at the end of the bed. “Well, thank you.”

      John stared at her, his face impassive.

      “You can go. I’ll be fine. Your sister seems capable of handling most anything.”

      At this he snorted. “My parents should have named her Colonel so people would know what to expect when they find themselves facedown in the mud with tank marks on their back.”

      “It would be hard for a girl to go through life with the name Colonel. She’d never find a personalized key chain or snow globe,” Shelby cracked, wanting him to go away, wanting him to stay so she wouldn’t feel so alone.

      His flash-bang smile surprised her. “That’s the girl I remember from Boots.”

      “Yeah, I have a good sense of humor when I’m not hormonal, on the verge of tears or cracking up...though I bet you wish you had never answered that knock-knock joke at the bar.”

      “It was funny.”

      “Yeah,” she said, walking toward the bed and sinking onto the plush comforter. “So...”

      “I’m writing down my number.” He picked up the notepad by the phone. “If you need anything...”

      “I won’t.” She hadn’t wanted anything from him in the first place. Her plan had been so simple—tell him about the child and fly back to Seattle. Okay, she hadn’t wanted to fly back to Seattle and face the music with her family...over turkey no less. She’d imagined the scenario several times over the long flight to Louisiana. “Pass the green bean casserole. Oh, and by the way, I’m pregnant.”

      How fun was that?

      Spotlight on her as she enacted the next installment of “Shelby the Eternal Screwup”—a yearly special airing near the holidays when family members were apt to ask things like “How are you?” And since Shelby prided herself on being honest and relishing the jolt on the faces of her brother, sister and assorted cousins, the answer was always shocking.

      “How are you, Shelby?”

      “Good, David. I lost my virginity to Dad’s junior partner, who swore he loved me and would marry me when his wife died. How are you?”

      Yeah. That’s pretty much how it went. Come to think of it, saying, “I’m pregnant by a man I met at a back-road honky-tonk” sounded tame by comparison. Maybe dropping that doozy over the white-chocolate-cranberry cheesecake wouldn’t be so bad.

      “Look, Shelby, I know we’re veritable strangers.”

      “Veritable?”

      “Virtual?”

      “We know each other carnally. That’s pretty much it.”

      He lifted both his eyebrows. “And that’s all it took.”

      “Touché,” she said.

      “My СКАЧАТЬ