Southern Comforts

“Are you staying here?” Gray asked. He’d thought he’d heard Abby and Joshua’s mom talking about a job, but maybe he’d been mistaken.

“Mommy’s working.” Josh kept rubbing at the small circular scab.

“You shouldn’t pick at that,” Gray warned.

“It itches.”

“That’s your skin healing. But you don’t want to rip it off too soon, or it might get infected.”

“I had infected before.” The boy started to pull up his sleeve.

“Joshua!” His mother came out through a side door. She was twisting a cloth in her hand. Her face was as torqued as the cloth.

The boy turned and ran to her. “The rainbows aren’t here yet. I have to wait.”

His mom knelt. “I said you could sit at one of the tables, but you can’t bother the guests.”

“But he’s at the frog table.” Joshua pointed.

“You can sit here,” Gray said. “I have...things to do.”

Joshua’s mom grabbed his hand and took a quick step back. “I’m sorry he disturbed you.”

“No problem.” The young woman was as skittish as the feral cat he’d brought home when he was ten. “So you got the job.”

She inched away, glancing at the door she’d just come through. “I did. But it’s on a trial basis.”

“Well, good luck.” Gray stood and started gathering his things. “Joshua can sit at the table.”

The little boy snatched up a well-used backpack. It flopped on the chair.

“You’re a guest.” The woman was twisting her hands again.

“No problem. I’m Gray.”

“Umm, Cheryl.”

“Nice to meet you.” He nodded to Joshua. “Be good for your mother.”

The little boy took out a pack of crayons and a well-filled tablet of paper. He waved without looking up from his scribbling. “Bye.”

Gray shouldn’t be lounging in a garden anyway. People who wanted to succeed didn’t sit around drinking coffee in the middle of the day.

* * *

ABBY SMOOTHED THE cranberry pencil skirt that ended a couple of inches above her knees and did a little spin. The matching jacket floated away from a white shell that showed a hint of cleavage.

“Looking good, Abs. Who are you trying to drive crazy with that suit?” Bess leaned against the kitchen table, snacking on a carrot stick.

“Jacob Tinsley.”

“Do tell,” her sister encouraged.

“I want to show him what he can’t have.” Abby tugged her jacket back into place. “He’s asked me out at every meeting for the past three months. Then I discovered he’s living with one woman and dating another.”

Was there something about her that attracted cheaters? First Maurice and now Jacob. Unfortunately, she’d been engaged to Maurice.

“I never liked Jacob,” Bess said.

Abby could always count on her sister’s support.

“Mr. Smythe’s dinner is in the warming drawer. He likes vinaigrette on his salad. It’s in the fridge on the middle shelf.”

She walked Bess through the to-do list, even though she’d left instructions pinned to the kitchen bulletin board. “Serve the Petite Sirah with his stew.”

“Trust me, I can handle this. I’ve hosted tastings for years.” Bess looked at her watch and pointed to the doorway. “Out. No one will walk off in a huff because you miss an evening.”

Abby kissed her sister and inhaled Bess’s scent of earth and flowers. “Sorry to obsess. It’s been a crazy start to the week.”

Crazy because of their long-term guest, but she wasn’t going to tell her sister about this weird attraction she was feeling. She could barely admit it to herself.

* * *

GRAY HAD TIMED his arrival in the library perfectly. Abby’s back was to him as she uncorked a wine bottle. He was the first guest to arrive.

“What’s the theme tonight?” he asked.

She turned and his smile dimmed. This woman’s hair was almost the same color, but she wasn’t Abby.

“Hello,” she said with a warm smile.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were Abby.”

“Thank you. My sister is lovely, so I’ll take that as a compliment.” The woman’s smile filled her face. “I’m Bess.”

“Nice to meet you. You and your sister look alike.”

But the two sisters were different, too. Bess’s nose was splattered with freckles. Her eyes had more gold in them than Abby’s emerald ones. Abby’s hair was an intriguing shade of strawberry blonde, while Bess’s was redder. And when Bess smiled, his body didn’t come to attention.

“What are the appetizers tonight?” he asked, trying to focus.

“Your theme is California Dreams. Artichoke dip, grilled tomatoes, olive tapenade, carrots, celery and other nibblers. California wines, of course.”

Setting down the wine bottle, Bess extended her hand. He shook it, surprised at both the strength and callouses. She smelled like flowers with an earthiness he couldn’t identify.

“I’m Gray Smythe.”

She laughed, making him frown.