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Phoebe tried again. “Do one thing for me before you go.”
“What do you n-need?”
Touching him was a bad idea, so she clasped her hands together. “Come around the truck. That’s right, to the fence.” They stood side by side once again, staring at the horses. “Now, tell me what you see. Slowly, gently, calmly. Describe the scene.”
He opened his mouth.
She held up a finger. “Deep breath, first.”
“Okay.” His shoulders lifted, and he blew out softly. “T-twilight above the trees, p-pink, p-purple, g-gold. P-pines, d-dark green and b-brown, stretching b-between grass and sk-sky. Horses white and b-brown and b-black, colors b-blurring in the gray light, b-beautiful and p-peacef-ful and s-safe.” He looked over at Phoebe. “Are you s-sure you will b-be?”
She had to draw her mind back from his poetic description. “I’ll be fine. You’ll lock the gate again, the dogs and I will go into the house, and everything will be good until morning.” Again, she had to stop herself from touching him. “I promise.”
“Okay.” Adam started toward his truck.
“That was lovely,” she told him as she followed slowly. “You did a good job with your consonants. And the description. That’s what I see when I’m here.”
He looked around again, and then smiled at her for the first time all evening. “Yeah. I’m b-beginning to understand j-just how that therapy of yours w-works.”
“I THINK WE’VE COVERED the agenda. Does anyone have questions or comments?” Cynthia DeVries glanced at each member of the fundraising committee, now assembled in her living room. “If not, then we’ll close. Be sure to have another cup of punch and some more dessert before you leave.”
A collective sigh preceded the polite bustle as most of her listeners returned to the dining room. Cynthia gathered her papers together, rose from her chair and turned to find Kellie Tate, the mayor’s wife, approaching.
“I knew you must be dying for something to drink. I thought I’d bring you some of that delicious punch.” Kellie offered one of the cut-crystal cups she carried and sipped at the other. “Where did this recipe come from?”
“Thank you so much, dear.” As the fruit drink soothed her dry throat, Cynthia felt the tension that had been holding her up through the meeting begin to drain. She hoped everyone would leave soon. “My mother got it from one of her bridesmaids. We served it at my wedding to Preston.”
“Heirloom recipes are the best, aren’t they?”
“That’s quite often true.” Moving nearer the front door, to be on hand when the ladies began to leave, she waited for Kellie to come to her point.
Most of the guests were gone, however, before she stated her business. “You know, Mrs. DeVries, quite a few people were surprised to hear that your son has decided to run for mayor.”
Herself among them. Cynthia called up a thin smile. “I imagine they were.”
“Curtis feels like he’s done his very best for the citizens of New Skye. After running unopposed for four terms, he’s…well, he’s hurt, if you want to know the truth, that Adam wants to challenge his fitness to be mayor.”
“I can see how that would seem like a personal slight.”
“I know you must have a great deal of influence with your sons, Mrs. DeVries. Surely they know how fortunate they are to have such a respected and admired woman as their mother.”
Through sheer willpower, Cynthia managed not to roll her eyes. “Kellie, dear, I’m not sure what you and Curtis think I could do to change Adam’s mind. I can give him my advice, but I can’t force him to resign from the race.” A fact amply demonstrated by his tantrum on Sunday.
“Oh, of course not.” The younger woman waved the idea away. “Curtis was just reflecting on how much the Botanical Gardens means to the city as a whole, and how impressed he is with the idea of the Stargazer Fundraiser. A dinner dance under the stars in the gardens—you were so clever to think of such a wonderful way to raise money.”
She paused to finish her punch, and Cynthia waited for the punch line.
Kellie looked at her over the rim of the cup. “I expect Curtis could find some funding tucked away in the city budget somewhere that would be very helpful to the garden. He might even be able to match the money you raise with the dinner dance. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful gift for the Botanical Gardens?”
“Yes, indeed.” She said goodnight to the remaining committee members and walked into the dining room to set down her cup, relieved to note the housekeeper was beginning to clear the table. Kellie followed, not too obviously anxious, to grab one more lemon square and turn in her punch glass.
Cynthia placed a hand in the small of Kellie’s back and eased her to the front door. “I do appreciate your husband’s generosity and his willingness to assist in keeping the gardens at their very best. I don’t know that I have nearly as much leverage with my son as you believe, but I’ll certainly keep your ideas in mind when I talk to him about this endeavor.”
Standing on the front porch, Kellie turned, her lips parted to make another attempt at persuasion.
“No, dear, really. I do understand.” Cynthia held the door open just wide enough for her face to be seen. “I’ll get back to you on this. I promise. Good night, and drive carefully.” She closed the door, giving the mayor’s wife no choice other than to go away. Finally.
The clock struck eleven before the house was orderly once again and Cynthia felt free to sit down with a glass of dry sherry and slip off her high heels. Kellie Tate had certainly provided her with food for thought. As the current president for the New Skye Botanical Gardens Auxiliary, she would be quite satisfied to leave as her legacy a sizable donation to the organization. She expected the Stargazer Fundraiser to bring in adequate money, but if the city provided a matching donation, then she would, indeed, have done her job well.
To achieve that goal, all she had to do was dissuade Adam from making a fool of himself and his family by continuing his run for the mayor’s office. From earliest childhood, he’d been a stubborn little boy. Sometimes she thought his speech difficulty was just another attempt at defiance.
Rarely, very rarely, had she allowed him to prevail. Descended from a long line of those who’d withstood the assault of British troops, the Yankee invasion, the shame of Reconstruction and the desperation of the Great Depression, Cynthia did not doubt her ability to control her own son.
The DeVries family held an enviable position and enjoyed a sterling reputation in this town, thanks in no small part to her own work in the community. If Adam did not understand his role in maintaining the respect due his mother and father, he could be taught. He must come to his senses and withdraw from the campaign. Or suffer the consequences.
And Cynthia could ensure that there would be consequences.
CHAPTER FOUR
SAM DECIDED TO AMBUSH Tommy Crawford in his office again. Early morning seemed to be his vulnerable time. Besides, she liked seeing him as a way to start off her day.
This time, she brought breakfast. She heard the rear door of the office open and close and then a pause, as if he caught the aroma in the air.
“Bonnie, honey, did you bring doughnuts?” he called from the back. “There will be stars in your crown for that act of goodness.” His footsteps came quickly down the hall. Sam loved how he moved, with a grace and precision that only looked slow. “I stayed up watching the Braves game and slept too late—” He came into the front room and saw her. “For breakfast.”
“Great game, wasn’t it?” Sam got to her feet, holding the familiar green-and-white doughnut box in one hand and a carrier of gourmet coffee in the other. “Could you believe that play in the bottom of the eighth? I thought for sure the Yanks were pulling away with that hit. Instead, the big boys from the South turned it into a double.”
“Amazing. You’re here for breakfast?” He didn’t seem as surprised as she’d hoped.
“Most important meal of the day.”
“Where’s Bonnie?”
“She went to the bank. I told her I’d watch the front door.”
He massaged his jaw with one hand. “Sure, let’s eat. Come on back.”
Sam hoped to confuse him, keep him off balance, because he was such a smart-ass, always knew the score, always got the last word. Sometime, though…sometime she wanted to see him serious, see him thinking, see him caring. About her, the way she cared about him. In a forever kind of way.
If, that is, Adam DeVries and his run for mayor didn’t ruin her chances completely.
They settled in Tommy’s office again with the doughnuts open between them. He chose chocolate-covered cream, as she predicted, and settled back with a groan. “No calories here, of course. No fat. No cholesterol.”
“Just air,” Sam agreed, taking a raspberry-filled bite. She licked jelly and glaze off her lips, savoring the tart sweetness.
Tommy choked, choked again, and went into a fit of coughing. When she would have come round the desk, he held up his hand and shook his head, then staggered out and across the hall to the break room. She heard the water running, and his coughs gradually died.
He returned, red-cheeked and wet-eyed. “Man. That bite went down the wrong pipe.” He sat down again and picked up his coffee with both hands. “So what’s the deal, Sam? Did you come specifically to choke me with a doughnut, or do you have a more sinister purpose?”
“Well…” She leaned back in her chair. “I did want to ask you about Adam DeVries’s new girlfriend.”
His eyebrows rose into the fringe of his hair. “Girlfriend? Not that I know about.”
“Lives out in the country, works in town. Long, silver-streaked hair, drives a green Beetle. Speech therapist?”
“You mean Phoebe?” Tommy gave a one-sided grin and took a sip of coffee. “Girlfriend? Nah. They’re just friends. Longtime buddies.”
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