Chapter Thirteen
As the dinner progressed, Liz had felt more and more at ease. Devlin had been right. The Governor was a bit intimidating at first, but the way his eyes softened whenever he pet Moon, the dog at his side, went a long way to making her less tense. On the other hand, Devlin’s grandmother was a sweetheart from the start. She could have made a cat feel at ease in a room full of rockers.
It took past the appetizers and well into the main course to actually taste the delicious meal Hazel had cooked. Liz had been so taken aback by all the silverware at the table that she’d been more intent on watching who used which fork and spoon than on savoring the dinner. At one point, the creamiest and most flavorful mashed potatoes she’d ever had, tickled her taste buds, and her obsession with not making a fool of herself with the wrong silverware slipped far away. Everything was as Devlin had led her to believe. Heaven on a plate. It was all she could do not to moan when she bit into the cornbread. Normally, she didn’t even like cornbread, but this, she could eat the whole pan and then some. Though she did notice a minute too late that she’d been the only one to bite into the square of bread. Everyone else would break a small piece off and pop the single morsel into their mouths. She wasn’t totally sure, but she suspected that it was not a family quirk but probably a rule straight out of Emily Post.
If she were going to hang out with these people, she might have to study a copy, and not the abridged version either. “How do you do it?” Liz joined her sister by the dessert table.
Adding a crème puff to the plate in her hand, Emily tipped her head. “Do what?”
“Fit in?”
“I’m sorry.” Emily reached for an almond square. “What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t know which fork to use.”
Emily turned pensive.
“And I don’t think I’m supposed to bite the corn bread, am I?”
This time her sister chuckled very softly. “No. Any bread, you break off a bite-size piece, butter it, and put it in your mouth. Never, ever butter the whole thing then break it off. Not many people know or care, but if you’re ever having dinner with the King of England, it would behoove you to remember.”
“Have you?”
A frown replaced Emily’s smile. “Have I what?”
“Have you been to dinner with the Barons and royalty?”
Emily rolled her eyes. “I may be Dev’s plus-one a lot of the time, but no, I’ve never been anywhere near royalty.”
“What else would I need to know if I were to spend time with these people?”
“Most of the time, nothing.”
“And the rest of the time?”
“There’s a cheat sheet Devlin gave me when I went to a political dinner with him at the White House.”
“Now that you mention it, I remember that dinner, but never gave any thought to needing a cheat sheet.”
“Political protocol can be tricky. When to stand, when not to stand, whose hand to shake and not shake. The hardest for me is always other women.”
“What about them?”
“The rules of etiquette dictate that the senior female must extend her hand first. Which is why no one ever offers to shake the Queen of England’s hand in receiving line photos and videos.”
“They just curtsy.”
“The women, yeah. But when you’re at an official dinner party, and you’re introduced to a woman who may or may not be older than you, it’s a crap shoot who goes first. Last thing you want to do is piss someone off by not extending your hand because you think she’s older.”
“And here I thought it was all fun and frills.”
“Did you two save room for ice cream?” Devlin came up between Liz and her sister.
“Don’t tell me Hazel makes ice cream too?” At this point, after tasting so much of what Hazel has cooked, Liz wouldn’t be surprised by anything the woman made.
Devlin chuckled to himself. “She does, but that wasn’t what I had in mind.”
“I don’t know,” Liz blinked. “I ate an awful lot at dinner and I wasn’t even that hungry after the afternoon snack.”
“I wish I could.” Emily sighed. “I am exhausted and have an early day in the morning, but you know that if I didn’t, I’d kill for some of Gertie’s butter pecan.”
“Gertie?” Liz looked to her sister.
Emily shifted to face Devlin. “You were thinking of Alamode, weren’t you?”
He nodded. “None other.”
“Blast,” Emily snapped her fingers, “I wish I could play hooky tomorrow so I could join you tonight. I love Gertie’s homemade ice cream.”
“Excuse me.” Liz spoke more forcefully. “Who is Gertie?”
“Sorry.” Emily turned to her sister. “If you were driving by and saw this old building in the middle of a field that looks like a strong wind could blow it over, that would be Alamode. Gertie and her husband have been making homemade ice cream there since before we were born. The woman has to be as old as Methuselah, but their ice cream is the creamiest I’ve ever had.”
“I think it has something to do with straight from the cow milk. The cream just tastes better,” Devlin chimed in.
“I bet.” Liz had never had truly homemade ice cream and the suggestion suddenly made her feel hungry for something sweet. As if to corroborate her story, her stomach picked that moment to growl. Smiling at Devlin, she placed her hand on her gurgling tummy. “Sounds like I’m in for an evening of ice cream indulgence.”
“You’re going to love it.”
When they pulled up in front of the place, her sister had not exaggerated even an ounce. The next windstorm was bound to knock the old place over. Inside, it looked like it fell out of the space-time continuum bringing the 1950s into the twenty-first century. Seeing Devlin laughing with an older woman she assumed was Gertie, Liz mentally shook her head. This man was an anomaly. As easily as his wealth and power could be intimidating, she couldn’t help but love his down to earth charm and warmth. Who cared if he was crazy rich? It was only money. Except for a few minor faux pas, she’d made it through the day unscathed and in the end, actually enjoyed herself. And she enjoyed being with Devlin—a lot. If she put her mind to it, she could learn how to run with the rich and famous. After all, if her sister had learned to fit in with all these high society trappings, why couldn’t she?
All evening, a sense of panic kept licking at Devlin’s nerves. He’d barely recognized that Liz was quickly proving to not only be special, but was becoming very important to him, yet at the same time he could see any possibilities of a future slipping away. Every time something that reflected the Baron wealth came into view, her eyes almost glazed over.
Desperately, throughout dinner, he’d wanted to take her hand and whisper we’re just ordinary people. The problem he faced was that ordinary people didn’t use sterling flatware, set a formal dinner place, or keep a stable of horses. They did, however, eat ice cream. And that was all he could think of to show her that deep down his world wasn’t all that different from hers. He hoped.
“Gertie, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Liz Carter, Emily’s sister.” Devlin smiled at Liz.
“So glad to meet you.” The older woman extended her hand. “You look so much like your sister and yet,” the woman put a single finger to her lips before speaking again, “there’s something different.”
“My mom is the only one who could easily tell us apart as kids. Emily and I always had a blast confusing Dad.”
Gertie laughed. “I bet you did.”
“Got any recommendations for tonight?” Devlin glanced at the old-fashioned blackboard riddled with words in colored chalk.
“I’m playing around with dark chocolate, coconut and salted caramel. I think it’s a winner.”
“Salted caramel?” Liz’s eyes lit up.
Gertie nodded. “Also have a plain dark chocolate with sea salt, and a caramel with sea salt.” She leaned closer to Liz. “That’s how we accidentally got the new recipe, I sort of dropped one in the other and couldn’t scoop it all out. Added the coconut for the heck of it.”
“Like the old commercial for Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups!” Liz grinned brightly.
“Yep. That would be it.” Gertie lowered her voice again. “But don’t tell anyone. It’s our little secret.”
“Deal.” Liz drew an X across her chest with one finger.
Seated at a corner table, Devlin waited for Liz to take her first taste.
Her eyes widened and then closed a moment. “Gertie needs to call this Heavenly Delight. Wow.”
“The problem is they all taste that way.” He dipped his spoon into the ice cream and scooped out a mouthful. “Here, taste.”
Her face crumpled a moment. “Bananas aren’t my favorite.”
“This tastes just like banana pudding.”
“I guess.” Cautiously, she gripped the spoon, eyeing the ice cream with mistrust. Even more slowly, she raised the spoon to her lips and took the tiniest of tastes. Pausing, her face crumpled and she seemed to be lost in thought when she took a bigger taste. Her mouth moving, her eyes opened almost as wide as a moment before and a broad smile took over her face. “Okay, that is amazing too!”
They ate in comfortable silence, digging into the cups of ice cream and making silly faces at each other with every bite. When she offered him a taste of hers, he made a big show of rolling his eyes and moaning with delight. Thankfully, that succeeded in making her laugh. He absolutely loved how her eyes lit up when she laughed from deep inside.
“Feeling better?” He swore to himself he wasn’t going to say anything, only do his best to show her that he was just a regular guy who happened to have a good deal of money, but he couldn’t help himself. He was feeling oddly desperate about possibly losing her before anything good could develop.
“Better?”
“You know, about everything.”
She flashed a smile. “Ice cream does have a way of making everything look brighter.”
His phone dinged and he glanced down at it.
“Do you need to take that outside?”
He shook his head. “It’s Paige. She’s already gone to work on the event. Grams and the Governor suggested using the ranch ballroom instead of the country club to save expense, and she’s already gotten responses from a handful of Steer Den’s best customers that they’re in.”
“Wow. That’s fast.”
“Paige has a way of making things happen.”
“I have a feeling you all do.”
“I suppose.”
“I suppose nothing.” Her expression softened. “I watched you last week. Just like your cousin, within hours of tragedy, you had wheels turning and plans coming together.”
“Thank you. I’d hoped it would be enough, but without the insurance money, even having the new location secured and ready for a restaurant, there is still too much needed to open the doors.”
“How long do arson investigations take?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. I would guess faster when the prime suspect isn’t the policy holder.”
“You’re probably right.” She swallowed her last dollop of ice cream and glanced down at her ringing phone. “Oh, foo.”
“Need to take it?”
“It’s Mr. Belker. The owner of that exquisite old mansion that his teenybopper wife wants to disfigure.” She blew out a deep sigh. “Give me a minute to take this.”
The phone to her ear, he watched her pace outside the window. Her head kept bobbing, but her facial expression gave nothing away. When she came back and sat down her expression seemed a bit lighter, but not thrilled.
“What did he want?”
“To tell me that they’ve decided to take a quick trip to Italy. Something about a fashion show in Milan. They won’t be back for a few weeks, so that old house has been given a reprieve. Though I’d rather have a stay of execution.”
How he wished he could do something to fix her dilemma. Unsure, but willing to take a chance, he let his hand fall gently on hers. When she didn’t react, he squeezed it and smiled.
Her face brightened a bit more and she wrapped her fingers around his. “On the upside, this means I have some time to help Paige. Do you think she’d let me?”
Would it be totally inappropriate for him to jump out of his chair and kick his heels up? A few more weeks. Working with Paige—and him. He and his family might wield a lot of power and connections, but only the grace of God could have kept Liz here longer for him to win her over. “I’m sure she, and the rest of my family, will love it.”
Even though the truth was, no one would love it more than he would. Now he had all of a few weeks to make her fall for him, all he had to do was figure out how. It wasn’t much, but holding her hand seemed as good a start as any. At least he certainly hoped so.