A New Attitude. Charlotte Hughes
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hope you’re sincere,” he said at last, offering his hand to seal the bargain. Marilee paused before taking it. It was big and warm, the palm toughened by the work he did. They shook. “We’ve got a deal,” he said. “I expect you to honor it.” He was surprised by the self-deprecating smile that touched her lips. She had always seemed so confidant, so self-assured. Who had hurt her so badly? he wondered, feeling oddly protective of her.
He released her hand. The last thing he needed to do was get involved in her troubles. She was a married woman, and he had his hands full trying to keep up with his mother and a new business. That reminded him of the architect who was supposed to drop by later. “I’d better go.” He made for the door, paused and turned. “Uh, Marilee?”
“Yes?” Her gaze locked with his, and for a moment she felt completely disoriented. She blinked, trying to make sense of the strange sensations sweeping through her. What was going on here? Had she killed off some brain cells when the noose tightened around her neck? Or perhaps she did have a concussion and didn’t know it. Either way, she was suddenly acutely aware of him as a man, the tall, athletic physique and broad shoulders. She couldn’t seem to stop staring at his eyes. They were observant. Was he aware that she was looking at him in that way? No wonder the girls at Chickpea High had followed him around like puppies. She cast her own eyes downward, certain that no decent woman would stare so blatantly at a man. And her married to boot!
“I know this is a bad time,” he said, “but do you happen to have an iron I could borrow?”
At first she thought she’d misunderstood. “An iron?”
He nodded. “I’ve misplaced mine. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”
She couldn’t imagine anyone making such a request at a time like this, but from the looks of his clothes an iron was exactly what he needed. Not to mention a hairbrush and razor. “Yes, of course. Just give me a second to find it.” Marilee hurried to the utility room, thankful for the reprieve. She had to gather her wits about her or the man would sure enough think she had lost her mind.
The iron was on a shelf next to the spray starch and laundry detergent. Marilee leaned her head against the shelf, feeling as though she needed to bang it hard and clear the muddle inside. In all her married life she had never once looked at another man. Well, not the way she was looking at Sam Brewer.
Lord help her.
Marilee took a deep breath, raised her head and reached for the iron. She dusted it off and retraced her steps to the living room. “It hasn’t been used in a while,” she said, her voice sounding stiff and unnatural. She had to get him out of there if it was the last thing she did. “I hope it still works.”
“I really appreciate this.”
He looked so grateful that Marilee wondered if there was a shortage of irons in Chickpea. “You’re welcome.”
“I’ll return it as soon as I’m finished.”
“Keep it as long as you like,” she said quickly, in no hurry to face him again after what had transpired.
Sam was reluctant to leave her, but he had no choice. “I’m, uh, just next door if you need something.”
“Thank you.” Marilee walked him to the door, noting the damaged trim. “Oh my.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “When I heard you scream I broke in. I can fix it. And the ceiling beam.”
“No, please, you’ve done enough.” In a matter of minutes he’d turned her upside down and inside out. That was more than enough after the kind of day she’d had.
“Well then, I’d better get going.” He started down the front walk, glancing over his shoulder for one last look. She stood at the door, watching him. He wondered if she remembered visiting when his father died. She and her mother had taken food over, offering their sincere condolences. They’d even attended the funeral. Both of them had been so kind to his mother, and Marilee had sought him out in the crowd and told him how sorry she was. She had done her best to console him when all he could think of was how angry he felt at losing his dad. He had never forgotten her caring nature.
Sam waved and crossed the yard to his own property.
Marilee closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief. If she didn’t get a grip on herself she was going to suffer a bad case of the vapors, just like her grandmother used to do when the worms ate her tomato plants. Here she was, ogling her sexy neighbor as if he was something out of a box of Godiva chocolates, when what she needed to be doing was deciding what to do with the rest of her life.
CHAPTER TWO
MARILEE HAD BEEN CLEANING nonstop for several hours when the doorbell rang. She hesitated before opening the door, afraid that it was Sam Brewer, returning the iron. She was a mess, having changed into old gray sweats and sneakers, and she smelled of disinfectant. Marilee would almost prefer giving Sam the dang iron, just to keep from facing him again. In fact, she was tempted not to answer the door at all, but after three rings she realized she had no choice. When she opened it, she found her best friends, Clara Goolesby and Ruby Led-better, standing on the other side.
“Marilee, you have a lot of explaining to do,” Clara said, frowning so hard her black eyebrows touched in the center, as though someone had drawn a straight line across her forehead with a black marker. Her short hair, dyed black as crow’s feathers to hide the gray, stood in tufts, a sure sign that she was upset, because she had a habit of plucking the ends when she was anxious about something. The town librarian, Clara was usually quiet and reserved, the exception being when she discovered food spills or dog-eared pages on her beloved books. Then she was a menace.
“Darn right she owes us an explanation,” Ruby echoed, crossing her arms over her breasts. She was a diminutive blonde, no bigger than a minute but a formidable opponent when riled. As owner of Classy Cuts Hair Salon, she was a shrewd businesswoman who tried to stay one step ahead of her competition, Martha Grimes, who ran The Hair Affair.
“What in heaven’s name were you thinking, Marilee?” Clara insisted. “How could you just disappear on us like that, without telling us where you were going? If it hadn’t been for my exceptional memory, we’d never have found you.”
Ruby looked at Clara. “Your exceptional memory? Hell’s bells, Clara, we searched for almost seventy-two hours before you thought of coming here.”
“That may be true, Ruby, but I’m the one who remembered how Marilee couldn’t bear to sell this place after her poor sweet mama died. And you don’t have to resort to foul language to get your point across.”
Marilee looked from one woman to the other. “Is something wrong?”
Both women gaped at her. Clara drew herself up and sniffed as though she smelled something foul. “Did you forget you were supposed to play the piano at the Grace Blessing Home benefit luncheon on Saturday?”
Marilee gasped. “Oh, no!”
“Oh, yes! We had more than two hundred women show up from six counties who paid twenty bucks to eat overdone roast beef and listen to you play Mozart on Richard Griffin’s baby grand piano.” She paused to catch her breath. “And after all we went through to get that piano inside the school auditorium and pay to have it tuned. Well,” she added in a huff, “Alma Jones ended up playing hymns, and the poor thing is so old she’s tone deaf. Marilee, how could you!”
“Yes, how could you!” Ruby seconded. “We had a devil of a time getting that piano back to Mr. Griffin. Not to mention having to pay for another tuning.”
Clara nodded. “And that’s not the half of it. We collected almost a thousand dollars selling raffle tickets, but guess who still has the pure silver antique candelabra in the trunk of her car?”
Marilee paled instantly. Not only had she forgotten about the benefit luncheon, she hadn’t remembered that she held