A Taste of Shine (A Trick of the Light Book 1) Page 9

  Flattering the man’s daughter seemed to be just the ticket to win the sheriff’s approval. A lax smile came to his face, the lawman asking over his shoulder. “Ruth, child, could you spare the time to teach this young woman?”

  “Absolutely, Father.” Kitten eyes twinkled at Charlie, the girl’s mischievous smirk unnoticed by her daddy. “It would be unchristian to do anything less.”

  The man looked to the basket in his arms. “Just where did you come by all this meat, Miss Elliot?”

  Charlie, virtuous expression back in place replied, “A deer ran right in front of my car.” The lie was an easy one. “Eli Emerson drove by and stopped to see if I was all right. He repaired my car—didn’t charge me a nickel—and offered to butcher the deer so others might benefit from the situation. In fact, it was Eli who suggested I come to you, claimed you’d know what to do.”

  The expression on the lawman’s face darkened at the first mention of the boy, but Charlie carefully painted a picture of how amiable, how gentlemanly, Eli had been. “I am very grateful to Eli Emerson. He was really kind to me.”

  Sensing her cue to jump in, Ruth spoke up. “When would you like to start your lessons?”

  Charlie offered her warmest smile. “As soon as may be.”

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Charlie shuffled up the Cormac’s drive, her arms full of groceries. After looking on with a sharp eye for neigh on thirty minutes, the Sheriff left with a nod.

  “Dear Lord, I thought he would never get out from underfoot,” Ruth complained, peeking out the window as her father went off to work.

  Charlie snickered, taking a taste of the batter in her bowl. “When I head on up to Devil’s Hollow later, you want me to take that pie you have sitting pretty as you please in the window?”

  “Indeed I do. I should warn you though, Charlie, them Emerson boys are trouble.” A naughty gleam came to Ruth’s eyes. “Good, appealin’ trouble…”

  Charlie eased a little closer, more than willing to be wicked with her friend. “You gonna marry that boy? All I hear is Ruth this and Ruth that. Eli is smitten with you to no end.”

  “If he got up the gumption to ask, Daddy would probably shoot him.” Ruth was a heap brighter than her would be Casanova. “The Emerson name ain’t quite what my father has in mind for me.”

  “‘Cause of the bootlegging? Prohibition will end soon enough, and the Emerson name will go back to being respectable.” Trying to put uniform dollops of batter on the cookie sheet, Charlie wondered aloud. “Of course, you could just up and run off with Eli.”

  Ruth snorted, reaching out with the tip of a towel to wipe a smear of flour off Charlie’s face. “If you think ending prohibition will make the Emerson name respectable, you just might be crazy. Everyone around here knows what they did to Harrison McCray. And he wasn’t the first. Anyone who crosses them… well, you know.”

  Charlie couldn’t help but think of the sort of men she was used to dealing with. “The Emersons don’t strike me as the type to start trouble—just to end it.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Ruth darted dove eyes to Charlie. “I can see why Matthew likes you.”

  “Nathaniel’s the one who likes me—a good friend of mine these days. Matthew tolerates my presence,” Charlie clarified, trying not to think back on the stolen kiss or how bad she’d been panting after him.

  “That’s not what Eli says.” The petite brunette cooed, playfully wistful, “Seems he is quite taken with you. Good thing too. No local girls have even earned a glance since Alice ran off. It’d be a waste if a man so handsome didn’t settle down.”

  Over the last few months, Charlie had forgotten all about the stunning waitress. Yet, one mention of the black-haired beauty’s name, and an odd feeling began to weigh in her gut.

  Their acquaintance may have been brief, but Charlie had seen enough to know Alice was glamorous, had a look about her that drove men wild. Clumsy and awkward, Charlie could not hold a candle to the other woman.

  Keeping her sinking feelings to herself, she feigned ignorance. “Who was Alice?”

  Ruth shrugged. “A girl who waitressed up at Devil’s Hollow last year. Supposedly came from money but had nothing to show for it, if you get my drift. I don’t really know much about her except that she was real stylish and pretty aloof when it came to making friends with the women in town.”

  “Why did she leave?”

  “Rumors abound. General consensus was Matthew refused to marry her. But my personal opinion—well, based off all Eli told me—is that she wasn’t the kind to stick around. Big dreams, you know.” A timer dinged, and Ruth paused her chatter to pull out the first tray of cookies.

  Smiling like a loon to find not one was burned or misshapen, Charlie declared, “If I didn’t have your help, they would have never turned out so good.”

  Disinterested in garnering praise or discussing cookies, Ruth pressed, “What are Nathaniel and Matthew like? I have never been able to speak with them but once or twice in passing. All I got to go on is Eli’s point of view, which might be a little flawed.”

  “Well, Nathaniel has the mouth of a sailor and drinks like a fish. I like him, but he may be a little too rough around the edges for most ladies. Matthew is the brooding type, a man of few words who glares a lot.”

  “Maybe he ain’t glaring…” Ruth hinted. “Maybe he’s just off kilter around you.”

  There was nothing off kilter about his lips the morning before. In fact, the amount of times their kiss had replayed in Charlie’s head was flat out shameful. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Why?” Ruth set the cookies to cool. “‘Cause you traipse around the woods and hunt deer when nobody’s lookin’?”

  Charlie froze, instantly unsure and uncomfortable.

  Seeing her friend nervous, Ruth hurriedly explained, “Eli told me last night. Would you take me with you next time? Take me hunting?”

  Growing red-faced, Charlie stammered, “I have a feeling, uhh, Eli would not approve.”

  “If I don’t listen to my father, what makes you think I’m gonna listen to Eli?”

  Ruth had a point.

  Chapter 11

  There it was, boxed up on the seat next to him. He’d driven all the way to Charleston to get the damn thing—could hardly believe he’d spent all of thirty dollars. Glaring at the box stuffed full of his new suit, Matthew tucked it under the seat, out of sight, so he wouldn’t have to answer any damn questions about it to his kin.

  “Where the hell have you been, Matthew?” Nathaniel complained, climbing in the truck.

  Shifting the toothpick to the other side of his mouth, Matthew hit the gas. “Where’s Eli?”

  “He’s off chasin’ that girl again.” Nathaniel waved a hand, the gesture annoyed.

  “‘Course he is…” There was already enough work to do, leaving Matthew moody and tired. The last thing he wanted to deal with was slaving over a hot still while his fool cousin shirked responsibility to woo Ruth Cormac.

  One man short, the brothers did their work, Matthew growing more aggravated with every hour Eli failed to show up. Making matters worse, where Nathaniel was usually clear minded in tending the stills, his present lack of vitality was wearing on Matthew’s last nerve.

  After hours of grueling labor, Matthew checked the time and called it a day.

  “But we ain’t done yet,” Nathaniel complained. “We still need to check the mash and bleed the lines on ol’ Bessie.”

  “It’ll keep.” There was no one at the grill and customers would be coming soon. “You can take care of it tomorrow once you get the lead out of your ass.”

  When they were driving out of the foothills, Nathaniel began fidgeting. “Wanna go into town and see if they got our sugar order in?”

  “No, Nathaniel,” Matthew puffed a cigar and shot his brother a glare, “I don’t got all day to fool around.”

  “We could call on Charlie,” Nathaniel offered, picking some dried hay off his shirt.

  Distrustfu
l, Matthew darted a narrow-eyed glance at his brother. The very thought Nathaniel might be sweet on Charlotte made him grumble and start cursing under his breath. The girl may like to share rough talk, he told himself, but she would never bat her eyelashes at his brother… Or would she?

  Skidding to a halt outside Devil’s Hollow, Matthew climbed out and began yanking the tarp off the crates of shine, pausing at the sound of muffled feminine giggles.

  What the hell?

  Stalking up the steps like a snorting bull, he pulled open the screen only to find the grill empty.

  The sound of a squeal echoed from above. He heard Eli’s voice, the scrape of furniture shifting, and more of the golden girl’s peals of laughter.

  The ruckus was coming from his room. Eli was making her cry out… and gasp. Knowing just what inspired those kinds of noises, Matthew saw red. About ready to murder his cousin, he bounded up the stairs, ignoring how Nathaniel chased after him, telling him to calm down.

  Furious, Matthew threw open his bedroom door, causing the two people standing in the middle of the space to look at him as if he were insane.

  Charlotte gaped, her blue coveralls scattered with paint smudges, a smear of white milk wash down one side of her face. The startled woman had a paintbrush in her hand… one that looked like she had been attacking his cousin with—seeing as the boy was practically covered in dripping white.

  Matthew’s scowl was so deep he could practically feel his brows touching.

  “Now calm down, Matthew,” Eli said, recognizing the signs of impending violence.

  “You don’t like it…” Chewing her lip, Charlie’s face fell in disappointment.

  That look, that sad little frown, made Matthew glance around to find the cause—realizing, at last, his room had been wallpapered in soft cornflower blue.

  A deep breath left his lungs, the tension visibly easing when Nathaniel called, “Eli, come on downstairs now.”

  The youngest Emerson hightailed it out the door, praying under his breath that Matthew would not be too hard on Miss Charlie.

  When they were alone, Charlie timidly stepped closer. “I went to Charleston to get everything so no one in town would gossip.”

  Pale eyes looked from the subtle vertical pattern in the paper, landing right on her paint-smeared face looking all kinds of guilty. “Why did you do this?”

  Wringing her hands, and clearly struggling to meet his eye, Charlie said, “It’s plain to see that you are so caught up in taking care of your family that you don’t spend any time seeing to your own comfort. So, I decided to step in and do it for you. As a thank you, of sorts, for allowing me to stay in town, giving me shelter when I got caught in that storm, tending my ankle… kicking the shit out of the Grimes boys. I thought—” she stammered, lamely explaining herself “—I thought… I hoped… you might enjoy waking up to see something beautiful.”

  The tips of his ears went bright red, the man stuck for something to say.

  Looking back to the newly decorated walls, Charlie added, “I made sure the wallpaper wasn’t prissy—something masculine and soothing. I saw this and thought of you.” She tried to be funny. “I don’t imagine the Matthew Emerson would like walls covered in flowers.”

  He cleared his throat and let his eyes leave her face, forcing himself to look again at what she’d done. Everything about the room seemed different, lighter… comfortable.

  As if taking his silence for approval, Charlie went back to whitewashing the window frame.

  “Would you have picked something, uhhh—” the tightness in his throat was making it near impossible to speak “—something different for yourself?”

  He saw her smile, those sapphire eyes focused on making short, concise strokes. “I like what I chose for you.”

  Without another word, Matthew turned around and left the room. After plodding down the stairs, he passed the others, Eli piping up that both of them had tried to talk her out of it, but she’d threatened to break in and do it with or without help before Nathaniel thwacked the kid.

  Ignoring their following spat, Matthew went straight into his office and closed the door. Burying his nose deep into his ledger, he tried to focus on his accounts, but couldn’t stop thinking about what was happening upstairs. Conflicted over the whole thing, especially how he’d reacted when he thought she was up there making love to Eli—with all that squealing and giggling—he groaned.

  The golden girl, the one he’d danced with and kissed only the morning before had gone to Charleston and chosen nice wallpaper just for him. Granted, Matthew didn’t know much about decorating, but he did know such things had to be special ordered. She’d organized everything at least a week ago, before he’d kissed her. That’s where she’d been when she disappeared. And the little vixen had brought his kin reluctantly on board. No wonder Nathaniel had been dragging his ass all day; his brother was supposed to keep him away so Charlotte could finish the surprise—the surprise he’d gone and ruined in a temper.

  Knowing he should talk to her, he stood from his chair and opened the office door. Nathaniel and Eli were sitting at the counter, each eating a slice of pie. Paying them no mind, Matthew moved towards the stairs.

  “She’s already gone, Matthew.” Though his mouth was full, Nathaniel’s words were clear. “But she left you something. I’ll keep it if you don’t want it.”

  Brows low, Matthew found a half-eaten pie and three small boxes, one with his name scribbled on top. It was bursting with cookies.

  Eli explained, “Charlie made the cookies, Ruth made the pie.”

  Picking up what looked like a snickerdoodle, Matthew took a cautious bite. The scowl fell right off his face. They were his mama’s recipe, and damn good.

  “You’re as shocked as we were,” Nathaniel chuckled, reaching to snag a cookie from Matthew’s box, only to have his hand slapped away. “Especially considering that woman could hardly fry an egg or toast bread.”

  Chapter 12

  Leaving Monroe for a few days could not have come at a better time. Charlie had blundered badly with Matthew, clearly overstepping his boundaries, and was unsure how to go about fixing the broken fence. Chicago would give her an opportunity to get her head on straight. Besides, a few days of being spoiled at the luxurious Drake Hotel would be a wonderful distraction.

  After a long soak in the claw foot tub and a lazy afternoon nap, she sat at the dressing table, fluffing her hair into what the magazines claimed was the height of Chicago style. By the time she strolled through the gilded lobby, her satin gown set aglow by the Drake’s crystal chandeliers, Charlie actually felt… pretty.

  No. She felt glamorous. A real sophisticated woman.

  It was surreal to be in her city, to be in such a fine dress, to be Charlotte Elliot and not Blackbird.

  The Radcliffe contingent was already there, early, no doubt, due to Martha’s need to always be a step ahead.

  It was striking to see her, the wife of Beaumont Radcliffe elegantly attired in velvet, the shade of blue contrasting beautifully with mahogany hair. Standing next to the tuxedoed lynchpin, Martha seemed grand—a queen surrounded by her court.

  When the woman’s eyes passed right over Charlie, Beau leaned down to his wife and teased, “She’s right in front of ya, toots.”

  “It’s been a long time, Martha,” Charlie stammered, easing closer, mesmerized by every unchanged detail of a face she knew by heart—Martha’s high cheekbones, arched brows, and warm chocolate eyes exactly as she remembered.

  Martha’s jaw practically hit the floor. Eyes bugging out of her skull, the older woman looked over what had once been a skinny, bruised up child and exclaimed, “Dear God! I would never have recognized you in a million years!” She took Charlie’s hands and spread them wide so she might look her over. “And you have breasts.”

  Beaumont coughed to cover his laugh, his men snickering behind him.

  “Umm, yeah,” Charlie managed, blushing scarlet.

  Martha wasn’t the only one taki
ng notice. Swaggering nearer, Tommy pitched in. “You look very beautiful, Lottie.”

  Before Charlie could offer an off-putting reply, Martha linked their arms, chatting brightly as she tugged Charlie toward the ballroom.

  The best tables were reserved, boasting a grand view of the big band assembled onstage. Beaumont’s goons settled in, but the Radcliffes and their guest dined separately, Charlie disappointed when Tommy slipped into the plush booth right next to her.

  “So, Lottie,” Beaumont popped open a bottle of champagne, “You’re Martha’s niece should anyone ask.”

  “Aww, shucks.” Charlie batted her eyelashes and took the proffered glass. “You made me family.”

  The infamous wicked grin she knew so well curved up Beau’s mouth. “I did, kid. It should help keep you out of trouble.”

  “Doubtful.” The corner of Charlie’s lips twitched. “You must want something.”

  “I don’t remember you being so mouthy as a kid,” Tommy interjected, leaning back against the soft cushion, his arm draped across the top of Charlie’s seat.

  “I just didn’t like you is all.” She sipped her champagne and added for good measure, “You were a little prick.”

  “Charlotte!” Martha slapped her arm. “That’s not how a lady talks.”

  The sting brought back the memory of the dozens of times Martha had smacked her over the years for mouthing off. Snickering, Charlie looked to the woman and apologized, trying not to snort when Beaumont winked.

  “Come on then, Lottie.” Light gleamed off Tommy’s sculpted blond hair, the man standing to offer a hand. “Let’s start over. Have a dance with me?”

  “I should warn you.” Charlie made a face, but took his hand anyway. “I don’t dance very well.”

  “Not a problem, little girl. I am a strong leader.”

  And he was. Surrounded by other couples, Tommy kept his hands firm on her body, leading Charlie with subtle cues that made it almost easy. But when she stepped on his foot for the third or fourth time he rolled his eyes and teased. “Since they’re already scuffed, you may as well climb up on my shoes and let me do all the work.”