Welcome to Serenity. Sherryl Woods

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СКАЧАТЬ decorator and help you whip it into shape. You’ll need something large enough for entertaining, and it should be in the best neighborhood. After all, you are a public official.”

      “Mom!” He needed to get her attention. “Enough. I don’t need anything fancy. I can slap a little paint on the walls if it needs it. The last thing I need is a decorator.”

      “Well, surely you’ll want some of the family heirlooms,” she continued, undaunted. “That awful place you had in the last town was nowhere for priceless antiques, but I’m sure you can improve on that.”

      Tom would rather live in a tent than be surrounded by the ornate McDonald treasures. “We’ll discuss it when I see you,” he said. If he put his foot down in person, she might actually hear him. Then again, that had never worked for his father. She’d been running roughshod over him for their entire forty years of marriage.

      Jeanette exited the church, stopped for a moment to speak with Pastor Drake, then turned and bumped straight into Tom.

      “You!” she said, taking a step back.

      Had he been in church? That would explain his perfectly tailored navy blue suit, crisp white shirt and polished Italian loafers. She couldn’t help recalling what Helen had said about him coming from money. He looked every inch the scion of some old Charleston family. Of course, the dimple in his cheek and the twinkle in his eye also made him seem sexy and accessible. It was a potent combination.

      “Well, this is an unexpected surprise. You’re just the person I needed to see,” he said, seizing her hand and drawing her away from the crowd.

      Jeanette tried to yank her hand away, but he had a surprisingly strong grip. Warm and solid. The kind of grip that would feel reassuring if circumstances were different.

      “Will you let go of me?” she demanded.

      “Will you at least hear me out?” he asked.

      “Why wouldn’t I hear you out?”

      He shrugged. “Good question, but our brief history suggests you’re not always open to spending time with me.”

      “You’re not asking me on a date again, are you?”

      “Not exactly.”

      “What does that mean?”

      “It means my parents are arriving here in approximately fifteen minutes and I need backup.”

      She stared at him blankly. “Backup? Why?”

      “My father hates everything about my being town manager here and my mother wants to choose my new home and decorate it,” he said, sounding a little frantic.

      Jeanette’s lips twitched. This vulnerable side of him was oddly appealing. “You’re scared of Mommy and Daddy?”

      “You won’t say it like that once you’ve met them. My father is a tyrant and my mother is a force of nature.”

      “And you want me to meet them after you’ve made them sound so charming?”

      “Okay, bad planning on my part. The point is that they are always on their best behavior around strangers. I can feed them at Sullivan’s and have them on their way by two if you’ll help me out by tagging along. I swear it’s not a date. I just need you as a buffer.”

      Jeanette found herself enjoying his discomfort. She actually wanted to meet the two people who could throw this self-confident man into such a dither. And it might be nice to see another dysfunctional family in action. It might be reassuring, somehow, to have proof that she wasn’t the only one on the planet who had parental issues. And it wasn’t as if they were dating and meeting his parents was a major moment. As he’d said, she’d be merely a buffer. No big deal.

      “There’s just one thing,” she said. “How would you explain me?”

      “As a friend,” he said at once. “That’s the truth, isn’t it? We’re friends, or at least getting there.”

      “Casual acquaintance is more apt, but I get why you’d need to call me a friend if you’re including me in this lunch.” She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay, then, as long as there are no hints…” She gave him a stern look. “None, whatsoever, that we are anything more than friends, understood? I don’t want to hear even the tiniest suggestion that we might be friends with benefits.”

      “Of course not,” he said solemnly. “Then you’ll do it?”

      “I’ll do it.”

      He snagged her hand again. “Good, we’re meeting them at the town hall—” he glanced at his watch “—in less than ten minutes. The one thing you don’t ever want to do is keep them waiting. It’s important to make a good first impression.”

      Something in his voice alerted her that he hadn’t been entirely honest with her. “Why do you care what kind of impression I make? I’m a buffer, that’s it. It might be even better if they hate my guts on sight.”

      “Possibly,” he conceded. “But there’s no point in either of us enduring a ten-minute lecture on the lack of respect implied by tardiness.”

      “Agreed,” she said, amused.

      Her oddly upbeat mood lasted until she spotted Mr. and Mrs. McDonald—surely it had to be them—emerging from a shiny black car almost the length of a city block. They’d parked across the square from the town hall, which put them some distance away, but she knew in her gut she wasn’t mistaken about who they were. Her horrified gaze barely skimmed over the man, but the woman…she would recognize her anywhere. An image of that artfully colored blond hair, pale complexion and the arrogant lift to her surgically perfected chin was burned into her memory.

      “Those are your parents?” she asked. “Over there, getting out of that limo?”

      Tom shot a quizzical look at her. “Yes. Why do you look like that? You’re pale as a ghost.”

      “I can’t meet your parents,” she whispered, frantically trying to get him to release her hand so she could bolt. Why hadn’t she made the connection before now? It wasn’t as if she’d never heard his last name or didn’t know he was from Charleston. She just didn’t believe in coincidences, that was all. Or she hadn’t wanted to believe in this one. It had been too awful to contemplate.

      Tom was still staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Why can’t you meet my parents? Jeanette, what’s wrong? Is it the car? They have money. So what?”

      “It’s not the car,” she said in an oddly choked voice. “Believe me, that car is the least of it.”

      “Then, what? Tell me quick, because they’ve seen us, so it’s too late for you to run.”

      “It’s your mother, Tom,” she said, still struggling to break free. “I know her. And you do not want us face-to-face. You need to trust me about that.”

      He stared at her blankly. “You know my mother? How?”

      “Do you really want to waste time chitchatting about the details? I need to go before they get over here. I СКАЧАТЬ