Chapter 20
Eric hurt everywhere. He soaked in a clawfoot tub filled with hot water and Epsom salts, soothing his aching muscles. How could he be so stupid? With nearly disabled hands, he wouldn’t be much help at the dairy tomorrow morning. Keaten would have to hook up the pumps. At least Eric could lead his ladies in.
Cradling his hands—the raw burns stung—he shook his head. Why had he put so much effort into winning? Stupid, stupid, stupid. He leaned his head back against the cool porcelain. Now Charlotte would leave with Westley, and the two of them could save orphans in a jungle somewhere. He dipped his head underwater.
Did the doorbell ring? He raised up his head, shaking the excess water from his ears. The old Windsor chime was still going.
Startled, he held his breath, heart thundering. Who visited at this late hour? Was anyone up? He listened for movement within the house.
Lizzie had gone to sleep at nine. After driving him home and taking care of the leftover food, Angie went to bed, and he wasn’t sure where Laurie was. Her car wasn’t in the driveway when he got home. James?
Was an officer on his doorstep waiting to tell him James or Laurie was dying on the road? A jolt of adrenaline shot through him. He better get downstairs and see what the late-night visitor wanted.
Lifting himself out of the water with much effort, he drained the tub, surrounding himself in a towel. Every move hurt. Every touch, sensitive. In the mirror, he examined the rope burn on his neck. That would leave a nasty scar. Other red angry marks covered his back and shoulders. Stupid, stupid.
Feeling defeated in every way, he wiped himself off, trying not to think about Charlotte. In haste, he slipped on a pair of flannel pajama pants and winced as he thundered downstairs.
Through the glass door, he could see an outline of someone standing on the porch. Not a police officer. He relaxed.
Shirtless, he opened the door. What was the emergency?
Charlotte stood on the stoop. In the half-light of the porch, her hair looked like a golden corona around her sweet face. Just the sight of her shot electricity through him. “What are you doing here?”
She blinked, staring at his chest, blushing slightly. “I came to let you know my answer.”
He was suddenly conscious of his bare skin as the wind washed across his naked chest. “Answer to what?” He leaned a forearm on the doorframe.
She wrapped her arms around her. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” With great effort, he opened the screen door wider and stepped out of the threshold, his mind buzzing a million miles an hour. Why was she here? What did she want? What was the answer? What was the question?
The scent of her as she passed him reminded him of their kisses. He tamped down the memory.
Now standing in the half-light of the hallway, she looked amazing. Her gaze focused on the floor. “I’ve made up my mind. I hope it’s not too late, but I want to be here.” She glanced up and met his gaze, as if she feared her own words. “With you.”
All the oxygen was sucked out of the room. Was she staying or had he imagined it? He gulped, half hoping, half disbelieving. “You want to be with me? You let Westley go?”
She nodded with a tiny movement. “He’s not the one for me. He doesn’t listen or care for me. Not like you do. He’s leaving. If you still want me…”
Want her? With one stride, Eric stepped into her space and scooped her into her arms. All the pain he felt disappeared, replaced by pure ecstasy. Holding her felt right. His arms were made for holding Charlotte. Instead of answering, he squeezed her close then stroked her hair. He loved all the curl. He pinched a piece and kissed the ends. “I love your hair. Have I told you that?”
She slightly shook her head, a small smile creeping on her lips.
He kissed her nose. “I love how adorable your nose is.” He kissed her chin. “This is the most perfect chin I have ever seen.”
He kissed a dimple. “I love these dimples.” Then the other.
“How about my lips? Don’t you like those?”
He grinned. He kissed her eyebrows next. “These eyebrows are so expressive. I can always tell what you’re thinking.”
She broke into a full grin.
The sight of it sent Eric’s heart slamming into his ribcage. Next, he kissed one eye, then the other, savoring her. “I love the color of your eyes and how they dance with delight when I see you.”
He brushed back her hair. “And these ears.” He kissed one on each side, inhaling her scent. “They are so good at listening.”
She shuddered under his touch. “But my lips?” she asked in a whisper, her voice wavering.
“Ah, you want me to kiss your lips?” he asked in a playful tone. He wanted to drag this moment out as long as he could. “Your lips are good at smiling. And speaking nice words.” Leaning forward, he brushed his against hers, savoring her breath. His hands found the small of her back and drew her closer, feeling her warmth on his bare chest.
Her hands slid over his shoulders.
Goosebumps arose on his arms.
She stroked the back of his neck.
He hovered above her lips, waiting, feeling the full weight of his desire for her careening through his body. If only he could give full expression to his heart. All the love and tenderness he felt.
At last, he crashed his lips upon her in fiery desire, tasting her reciprocating passion.
Then she noticed the laceration on his neck. “Oh, dear!” With a flash of pity in her eyes, she gently kissed the wound.
He felt nothing but bliss.
She opened his hands and gasped at more rope burns—burns he got for her. Raising his hands to her lips, she kissed each abrasion.
With even greater intensity, he dug his hand into her hair, kissing her lips, grateful for her tenderness and gratitude.
“What is going on here?”
Hearing Laurie’s voice, Eric jumped back, heart racing, face burning. He hadn’t heard her come in.
She stood with her purse over her shoulder, arms crossed, foot taping. “And where is your shirt, young man?” Her icy voice killed every romantic thought.
Now his whole being caught fire. “I was in the tub, and I—” He cut himself off. That was not what he meant to say.
Charlotte ducked her head, her face red to her ears. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Benton.” She glanced up at Eric, squeezing his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He opened the door for her, letting in the cooler air brush the heat away. At the stoop, he bent to kiss her one more time, savoring the sweet taste of her.
After a lingering embrace, he brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I’ll come see you tomorrow.”
“We’ve got lots to talk about.”
“And not to talk about.” He winked.
When he returned inside his mother was nearly crying.
“What’s wrong?”
She paced the hall, purse swinging. “Everything! Carl, the house, the farm! We’re losing it all, and it’s all my fault.” She buried her face in her hands.
A sickening feeling washed over him. He’d forgotten about the vote on Tuesday. He hadn’t forgotten he was still mad at Laurie. But in her distress, he couldn’t stay mad. “Carl didn’t come tonight?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry I scared him away.” In one move, he took his fragile mom, tucked her under his chin and hugged her.
She shook in his arms, crying against his chest. “It wasn’t just you. I also said some things that weren’t kind. I’m just so stressed about losing the farm. What can we do?”
He soothed his mother’s hair. “We can hope and pray for a miracle.”
The next day dawned. Charlotte didn’t sleep well as her thoughts churned of her kisses with Eric and hoping she could actually stay. What if the annexation fails? Then she would have to move. But if it passes, then Eric will lose his farm. He’d lose his heritage, his family business, his reputation—everything that was important to him. There was no winning in this situation. Likely, he would go back to college. What would his mom do? Angie and Lizzie? She tossed under the covers. It was all her fault. If she hadn’t been so persuasive, she wouldn’t have convinced so many people to vote with her. But Preston was counting on keeping this house until Papa Roland passed. He was a hard man; although she loved him, he wouldn’t allow Preston to access his trust fund money until he died. And she didn’t want him to die. She just wanted him to change his mind.
The whole thing was infuriating. Either way, she lost.
Eric said he’d come over after he finished his morning chores. She’d better get up and get ready for the day. As Eric was an early riser, he could be over any minute.
Preston was downstairs with Coco. They’d already been up and at the bakery and brought home cinnamon rolls.
“Hey, Charlotte. These are gluten-free for Preston.” She pointed to a few smaller rolls. “And these are ours. Courtesy of the Sweet Suite Bakery.” A clump of thick, fluffy rolls sat at the other end of a platter.
“They look delicious.” Charlotte burrowed into a chair and ate the gooey spicy treats.
Preston licked his fingers. “Papa Roland and Deb are coming by this afternoon. They’re in town.”
Charlotte swiped her tongue across her lips, nabbing a glob of frosting, and grabbed a napkin for her fingers. “I know. I saw Deb at a few events already.”
“Deb’s been here staying with Coco at her old house, helping at the bakery while I have school. But when Papa Roland arrives, they will both be staying here. We can try out our hospitality.”
Charlotte shook her finger, holding a napkin. “Hey, we wanted to turn this into a historical venue not a bed and breakfast.”
“We’ll do whatever we need to keep this place in the family.”
Coco drank a glass of milk. “Sugar Creek has enough B&Bs. What we need is something different. Something only we can offer them.”
Preston nodded, taking another bite of his gluten-free rolls. “Maybe we can do seasonal tours.”
“Or offer experiences. Like in fall, we can tell people the house is haunted. And do a guided tour and show them places where people were murdered.”
Both Preston and Coco stared at Charlotte.
“Or not.” She stared at her plate, face burning.
Coco recovered. “We could do Easter egg hunts in the spring.”
“And in the summer, we can open our waterfront property to swimmers and our tennis courts to players,” Charlotte offered, raising her head.
“Are we turning it into a YMCA?” Coco stuffed another bite of cinnamon roll into her mouth.
The smell of cinnamon overwhelmed Charlotte. She placed her hands on the kitchen counter. “I’m just trying to think of something in case the annexation fails so we can still retain the property, my home. Really the only home I’ve ever known.”
Preston gave her a side-shoulder hug, keeping his sticky fingers clear of her hair. “Don’t worry. The proposition will pass.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” she murmured under her breath. “There must be other ways to keep this afloat other than being granted the tax-free status because we’re a historical building within Sugar Creek’s city limits. That’s all. There has to be another way.”
“You’ve already put in so much work to make sure it passes.”
“I know.” Now she wished she hadn’t. Actually, she didn’t know what she wanted anymore. If they win, they keep their house. If they lose, Eric and his family lose theirs. Why did she have to get emotionally involved? That had been her first lesson in her internship: don’t get emotionally involved with the opposition or with your client. It clouded judgement.
She sighed. Maybe another cinnamon roll would make her feel better. She grabbed another doughy, pillowy mound of goodness. Tuesday loomed too close, and she couldn’t stop it. The house, as huge as it was, suddenly felt as if it were closing in on her. She needed space and fresh air.
“I’m taking this out to the garden to walk around a bit.”
Preston stuffed a bite into his mouth so all he did was nod.
She opened the door, smelling the fresh chill air and the soil. She stepped down the brick path crowded with mums and pumpkins and headed toward the gardens. Even in the fall, they were still beautiful. The clouds obscured the sun, giving it a faint glow above the white autumn sky. She sat on the stone bench that overlooked the fields of the Sweet Milk Dairy farm next door. She sighed and took a bite.
“I liked the idea of the haunted house tours, including the murder story. I think you’re onto something.”
Charlotte jumped.
Jules walked out of the bushes—literally, from the manicured bushes surrounding the bench.
Charlotte grinned. “Were you eavesdropping?”
“It’s hard not to.” He squatted near her. “That looks tasty.”
He looked to where she stared at the Victorian house nestled in front of a copse of trees. “So what did you decide about your suitors?”
“Thanks to your advice, I chose the one who always treated me nicely.”
“Is that the farm boy who lives next door?”
“Uh-huh.”
“With the truck.”
“Yup.”
“So now what?”
“Now I wait and see the results of Proposition 11.”
“And what does that determine?”
“Whether he stays or I stay.”
“There’s no other way around it?”
She shook her head. Finished with the cinnamon roll, she set the plate aside. “Life is full of things where you can’t have your cake and eat it too.”
“Or cinnamon roll.”
She stared at him flatly.
He winced. “Sorry. Bad joke. Don’t kill me.”
“Speaking of killing, did you think any more about… You know.” She felt awkward dragging up his past sins.
“I did.” He heaved a sigh. “Let me tell you a little about what was going on in my time. The year was 1924. Coolidge was just elected president.”
Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t know that much about US history.” She’d lived most of her life outside the States.
Jules tsked. “He was from here, you know. A Vermonter through and through.”
“Okay.”
“Women had received the right to vote four years earlier, and they were smart enough to vote him in.” He grinned.
“Cool!”
“Yes. But you see Vermont was still a kind of backwater. More people moved to the cities than stayed in Vermont. Poverty was rampant. Sadly, even I ran out of money. I had to keep up appearances. I was only a surveyor, and not many people were buying or selling properties. I turned to an unorthodox means of generating income. ”
“Oh, dear.”
“Don’t worry. As you can see, I paid the consequences for my actions. You don’t become a rum runner without making a few enemies.”
“Who?”
“A few people in the temperance movement. They pretty much didn’t like anyone but themselves. Tried to kick out Blacks, Jews, and Catholics, too.”
“Oh, my.”
“I’d had a few tangles with them previously, but thanks to my skilled driving, my fancy automobile, I was always able to escape.”
“But not that time.”
“No.” He squinted. “I guess not. It seemed so important to me to keep the house. I compromised my integrity to keep it.”
“And now you wish you hadn’t?”
“I wonder if that’s what’s keeping me tied here. Prioritizing material things over family.”
Charlotte faced forward. Relationships should never be sacrificed for material things. She didn’t know how to help Jules, but she could save her relationship with Eric. No matter the outcome of the election.