Part 4 (1/2)
”Not at all. We're going to begin in the atrium in a few minutes. The leaded gla.s.swork was preserved beyond anything we imagined. Brooks, you should give our contractor's name to your father. He mentioned Badewood needed some repairs on that gorgeous portico.”
”I will. And I thought I saw Manning's car out front.”
”He was talking to Colonel Bradley about next month's field maneuvers.” Mrs. Werlin frowned, as if the words she'd heard hadn't made much sense. ”Something about how the Bahala Rifles regiment kept several goats for milk and he thought it would be more authentic to bring a few along for the weekend. Your sister-in-law reminded them her role as Company H cook did not extend to milking goats.”
Caroline laughed. ”Perhaps the men could perform that task and give Debbie Mae the milk for cooking.”
”I can't see Manning milking a goat,” Brooks said. He was a Civil War enthusiast, not a farmer.
”Hey, you two.” As if on cue, Manning appeared and gave him a brotherly punch to the shoulder. ”Where's Dad?”
”He didn't feel up to it.” He resisted rubbing the throbbing spot and wished he could lob a punch right back. Manning was younger but Brooks had always been the better athlete. An old-fas.h.i.+oned head-lock sounded like it might fit the bill. Later.
Manning raised his eyebrows. ”He hasn't been feeling up to a lot.”
”That's too bad. You give him our love, hear?” Mrs. Werlin patted him on the arm and turned to speak to a young man hovering at the edge of their small group.
”How have you been, Manning?” Caroline gave him a quick hug. The guests in the room seemed to be s.h.i.+fting around them as more attendees arrived. He saw a lot of familiar faces and old acquaintances.
”Gooder'n grits”, he said, laughing. ”Debbie Mae's got me training for a triathlon. We're doing the Gator Bait in August.”
”Glad to hear it! I dragged your brother out for a sunrise run a week ago and he still hasn't stopped complaining.”
Brooks snorted. ”I stopped complaining within a few hours.”
”I want you to meet someone, if I can catch his eye.” Manning waved toward a cl.u.s.ter of well-dressed women. From the center of the group, a young man disentangled himself. He smiled his way out of their reach and crossed the room, bright teeth flas.h.i.+ng in the light. A pinstriped three-piece suit paired with an outrageously patterned tie and bright red silk made Brooks think of entertainers and politicians. He felt immediate remorse for the unkind comparison and fixed his face into a friendly expression. Maybe the guy couldn't help having perfectly straight teeth and overly styled hair. Well, he could probably help the hair.
”I'd like you to meet Franklin Keene. He and Debbie Mae went to grade school together. He came up from Oxford to celebrate the completion of the renovations,” Manning said.
”Pleasure to meet you.” Frank reached out and grasped Caroline's hand, flas.h.i.+ng that toothpaste smile. She said nothing, and for a moment Brooks wondered if she might be fighting back an impulse to laugh. But when she spoke her voice was a bit breathless.
”Caroline Ashley,” she said. He was still holding her hand and he smile grew wider, if possible. Brooks swore he could see every tooth in the man's mouth.
”This is my brother, Brooks.” Manning continued as if he hadn't noticed Caroline and Frank were having a moment.
Frank withdrew his hand, slowly lifting his gaze to acknowledge the other person in the group. ”Lucky man. A brother like Manning and a date like Caroline.” The words included Manning, but they all knew who was being complimented. Brooks felt his jaw tense. This kid was getting on his nerves.
He shook Frank's hand, resisting the petty urge to grind his knuckles a little bit. ”You and Debbie Mae are good friends?”
”I moved away from Th.o.r.n.y Hollow in sixth grade when my father was transferred to Nashville, but this place has always been like a second home to me.” He motioned around the expansive ballroom.
”Mrs. Werlin is his aunt,” Manning clarified.
”I don't remember you.” Caroline put a finger to her chin and gave Frank a long look. ”Unless... you were that skinny kid that always rode the green bicycle around the end of our driveway. You had gla.s.ses and hair that...” She made a movement above her head that seemed to indicate either a severe cowlick or intentionally dramatic styling.
Frank laughed and leaned forward. ”You do remember me. I was uglier than homemade sin. Let me tell you that skinny little kid was so in love with you that he tried to tattoo your initials onto his own arm with a ballpoint pen.”
Her eyes went wide and she raised a hand to cover her mouth, laughing. ”You weren't! You didn't!”
”Miss Caroline Ashley, I a.s.sure you I was and I did. My daddy wupped me for it. I was so in love with you, I'd ride my bike to the end of your driveway every day in the summer time, waiting to see if you'd be coming to Mr. Hardy's store for a c.o.ke. I'd pretend the chain had slipped if anyone drove by. I never could figure out a pattern to your comings and goings. Most days I went home without a glimpse of you and a near dose of heat stroke.”
”I'm sorry I was mean.” Her brows drew together. ”I'm pretty certain I was. At least, I remember telling you to go dunk your head.”
He laughed, all those teeth on display again. Brooks was beginning to hate the sound of Frank's geniality. ”I probably deserved it. I just wouldn't leave you alone.”
”Well, I promise not to repeat my bad manners. I'll be good.” She looked up at him from under her lashes and Brooks almost choked. She was flirting with this fancified newcomer!
”I'm not sure I can return that promise.” His eyes went half-closed and he was inches away from her. Brooks cleared his throat, hoping to remind them there were other people in the room.
”I think the tour is about to start.” Brooks took Caroline's elbow and tried to steer her toward the atrium, but her feet were planted.
”I didn't hear any announcement.”
He looked at Manning, who shrugged. ”I'll go find Debbie Mae.” He was gone in the next moment.
Brooks took a deep breath. There really wasn't any reason to be so annoyed. He was clearly a schmoozer and a charmer, but not seriously dangerous. Surely, Caroline saw through him from the first moment and was just being kind. He glanced at her as Frank launched into another story from his childhood spent chasing the dream of Caroline Ashley. Her face was flushed and her bright green eyes reflected the faceted crystal chandeliers above. She laughed, a sound that was as familiar to him as his own heartbeat, and laid a hand on Frank's arm. For a moment, he saw her as a woman, not as the girl he'd always known. Gone was the kid who preferred cherry popsicles to green ones and who painted her bedroom walls pitch black without permission and who started her own tiny newspaper as a high school senior.
Brooks felt something stir in his chest, like an animal being roused from sleep. It wasn't a pleasant feeling and he pushed it away, refusing to surrender to petty jealousy. Caroline should go out more often. He'd just said so himself not even an hour ago.
He forced his expression into something he hoped would pa.s.s for relaxed, but it probably landed somewhere near sullen. Really, it was natural to feel a bit left out when your friends started a new relations.h.i.+p. When Manning started dating Debbie Mae, months stretched between his trips to Midlands College to visit. Now he hardly saw him unless there was a reenactment, and apparently Debbie Mae would be there, too.
It was just exactly the same situation. He said this a few times to himself as Caroline beamed up at toothy, perfect-hair Frank. He said the words, but the truth was quite different and deep down, Brooks knew it. He hadn't been jealous of Manning's new girlfriend. He hadn't even minded the brotherly excursions being curtailed for the new wife.
Franklin Keene had landed firmly on his bad side and there was no way he could make friends with the man. It didn't matter how interesting he turned out to be or how many stories he told of his childhood in Th.o.r.n.y Hollow. They would never be friends; the reason had nothing to do with Frank's style and everything to do with the woman standing between them.
”Why not seize the pleasure at once? -- How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation!”- Frank Churchill
Chapter Six.
Caroline was struck by the realization that this was the very best thing that had happened to her in months. A party on a perfect summer evening combined with a brand new and very interesting man had the effect of coating her entire life with the stardust of satisfaction. Of course, all was rosy before you really got to know a person, but so far, Franklin Keene was about as perfect as a man could get. She tried not to stare, but he was breathtaking in his effortless elegance. Obviously cultured, Southern, and handsome, all he needed to do was to say he spent his days doing something impressive, like researching cancer cures.
”Well?” Frank was smiling down at her, deep brown eyes intense.
She blinked, scrambling to recall his last few words. He'd been telling some story about meeting her grandfather and she'd lost the thread of the conversation. She opened her mouth to apologize but Brooks cut in.
”She's a freelance journalist working on the Great American Novel,” Brooks said.
She turned to frown at him but Frank was already speaking. ”Fascinating! I've been dealing with quite a few freelance writers lately. You might know some of them. Scott Drexler? Terry Lewis?”
”No, I'm afraid I've been very bad about keeping up my professional contacts lately.” Her face felt hot but she kept the smile fixed to her face, hoping he wouldn't interpret her words to mean living-in-my-mom's-house-and-eating-ice-cream-out-of-the-carton, which was the truth of it.
”I understand. It's become such a trial for writers, with all the marketing. That's why I have an entire team devoted to keeping them happy, although the days of Th.o.r.eau's cabin in the woods are over. Tell me you at least go on Twitter once in a while.”
She blinked, wondering why on earth a writer would need to be on Twitter. Honestly, with only a hundred and sixty characters, there wasn't a lot they could impart. ”I leave Tweeting to the Haiku masters.”
Frank laughed, a lovely warm sound that made a s.h.i.+ver zigzag from the top of her head to her toes. ”There, that would have been perfect. More of that and you'll have a platform in no time. To make your marketing effective, I advise aiming for at least five thousand followers.”