Last Chance Hero Page 2

  There were only two major items left to be settled. She needed to finish her associate’s degree. And he needed to save up enough for a down payment on a house.

  So it was all good. Well, except the part about not having sex until they were married. That was, in his opinion, kind of an old-fashioned idea for a woman who had just turned thirty. But Momma had raised him up as a southern gentleman. And there were quite a few old-fashioned women in Allenberg County who frowned on premarital sex. So Lucy wasn’t all that unusual for this neck of the woods.

  And he liked her. And he liked her family. Which probably meant he should marry the girl. But he deeply resented Miriam Randall meddling in his relationship with Lucy Grey.

  So he cleared his throat and came up with the best excuse for not proposing that he could muster on short notice. “You know, you’re not the only person on the Allenberg County payroll whose job might be in jeopardy. Mayor LaFlore is giving County Executive Hayden a real election challenge this November. So Hayden has been making all kinds of promises about property tax reductions and balanced budgets. It would be stupid of me to take on any new responsibilities until after October first. Until then I don’t have any guarantee that the department will be fully funded for another year.”

  “Bummer.” The corners of Matt’s mouth turned down.

  “Yeah, total bummer, because I’ve been saving up for a down payment on one of those new houses they’re building off Route 321, you know the place—Jessamine Manor. Lucy and I took a look at the model home, and you should have seen the way she lit up. She wants to practice all that stuff she’s learning in college about interior design. Well, anyway, until this latest round of budget cuts, I was thinking that I could afford that house. And with a house, you know, it might be a good time to…” He shrugged off the last part of his sentence. Just saying the word “marriage” made the spit dry up in his mouth.

  “Well,” Matt said, “job or no job, you’re in deep crap with the female population of Last Chance if you don’t ask Lucy to marry you. You know how it is, Ross. Miriam can hand out a lot of bogus mumbo jumbo, but every female in town believes it like the words came down from God Almighty. Those women don’t give a rat’s behind that you are about to be downsized. They think you need to fish or cut bait.”

  Lucy Grey stood on the concrete walkway leading to the parking lot at Allenberg Community College. She dug her cell phone out of her purse and switched off airplane mode.

  The phone immediately rang. Momma was on the line. So what else was new? Momma called almost every hour of the day.

  Lucy heaved a weary sigh as she punched the talk button. “Hey, Momma, what’s up?”

  “Honey, you won’t believe it. This morning Miriam Randall herself came into Last Chance Around and gave your sister some marital advice.”

  Lucy’s mood brightened. “Oh, my goodness, what did she say?”

  “Well, honey, it’s simple. She said that Sabina’s Prince Charming won’t show up until we have you safely married off.”

  Just like that, Lucy’s balloon popped. “What?”

  “You heard me. We need to put our heads together and figure out a way to help Ross over his commitment issues. Honey, the time has come for you and your fireman to get hitched. It’s not like I’m asking you to do something you don’t want to do. You and Ross belong together.

  “And now we know that once we get you married off, the way will be cleared for Sabina. Daddy and I want to give you a big, fancy wedding. Like a fairy princess. We’ll have so much fun planning it. And all the while we’ll be doing something wonderful for your big sister.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “I am not. Why would I joke?”

  “You don’t really believe that stuff about Miriam Randall, do you?”

  “I most certainly do. She may be an Episcopalian, but I think her track record speaks for itself. And besides, Lucy Ann, you owe your sister this. She gave up her college experience to help me nurse you after the fire.”

  Oh, boy. It hadn’t taken Momma more than a minute to start ladling on the guilt just like gravy on her pot roast. And Momma never stinted on gravy.

  Of course, Lucy was perfectly capable of feeling guilty without Momma’s help. Lucy knew exactly how much Sabina had given up after the fire. She was also well acquainted with Sabina’s guilty conscience. So it was hardly news that Sabina wouldn’t move on in her life until Lucy was settled with someone like Ross.

  Lucy should marry him. He was a good man. A loyal guy. A gentleman who put up with her weird need to control everything. Ross would make the perfect husband and father and mate.

  But he’d never actually swept her off her feet. Because, well, she’d kind of never let him. She was frightened of being swept off her feet. She didn’t like feeling out of control. It took her back to that night when she’d been surrounded by the flames and knew that she was no match for a force of nature. The fire had scarred her in so many ways.

  Which was why Ross was so safe. He was dependable, and easygoing, and happy to let her make all the plans.

  “Lucy, honey, are you still there?” Momma sounded annoyed.

  “I am.”

  “So are you going to do something about Ross or not?”

  “I guess I should.”

  “Well, don’t sound like you’re going to a funeral. Once you get that engagement ring on your finger, we’ll plan a trip to Atlanta and go looking for the wedding dress to end all wedding dresses, just like those people on Say Yes to the Dress.”

  Uh-oh, that didn’t sound like fun. Lucy didn’t want to be dressed up like a doll. Besides, even if you put a pretty dress on her, she’d still have scars on her forehead, arms, and legs. She wondered, sourly, if anyone made wedding dresses with long sleeves anymore. It seemed like every bride was wearing strapless mermaid dresses these days. She didn’t have a figure for a dress like that, not to mention the way that kind of neckline would expose her flaws.

  “All right, Momma,” she said, knowing that arguing with Momma was a waste of time. “I’ll talk to Ross.”

  She said her good-byes and headed for her old Saturn sedan. It didn’t take long before her phone rang again. She checked the ID: Maryanne Carpenter. No doubt Maryanne had heard the news. She sent the call directly to voice mail, only to have the phone ring again.

  This time it was Jenny, Maryanne’s cousin and Sabina’s best friend. That call was also sent to voice mail. She was thinking about turning her phone back to airplane mode when it rang a third time.

  This time the call was from Ross. She sat there in the driver’s seat contemplating her future. She wanted to send this call to voice mail, too. But she couldn’t do that. Not to Ross. He was such a sweet man.

  She pressed the talk button. “Hey, sweetie.”

  “Hey.” He had the deepest voice. She had to admit the guy was pretty much perfect in every way.

  He hesitated for a long moment before he spoke again. “So, uh, I’m here at Jessamine Manor, you know the Webster Homes development out on Route 321? I’m looking at that model home you liked so much, and I was wondering… well, I wanted to know if you had a minute to come down here.”

  “You’re looking at a model home?”

  “Uh, well, actually I just signed papers and put down a few grand in earnest money. To be accurate, I just bought a home and I need your advice about carpets and appliances and upgrades… you know… stuff.”

  Good Lord, the house was one of the last items on their joint to-do list, right after her graduation from college. If he bought a house and she graduated, there wouldn’t be anything left on that list, except sex and marriage. Maybe in that order or maybe the other way around.

  Yikes. Her life had changed in a matter of hours just because Miriam Randall had walked into Last Chance Around and talked to Sabina.

  Of course Ross would never, ever stand between Sabina and her happy ending. He was too much of a gentleman for that.

  And of course, Lucy owed Sabin
a happiness. Big time. She couldn’t say no.

  So really, she didn’t have a choice, did she? She was going to marry Ross Gardiner on someone else’s time line.

  And that bugged the crap out of her.

  CHAPTER

  2

  Sabina arrived at the Kismet movie theater at seven-forty on Thursday morning, late for the Discover Last Chance Association monthly breakfast and business meeting. She slipped through the lobby and into the dining room, where virtually all of the Palmetto Avenue merchants were already digging into their omelets.

  Sabina had stayed up way too late last night drinking cheap champagne, compliments of Momma, who’d rushed right out to the BI-LO for the wine and some steaks the minute she’d heard about Ross buying one of those houses out at Jessamine Manor.

  Attendance at Momma’s impromptu engagement celebration was mandatory. Unfortunately, champagne always gave Sabina a headache. And cheap champagne was the worst.

  She sat down at a nearly empty table in the back, pulled a bottle of Excedrin out of her purse, and reached for the coffee thermos.

  “Sabina? Sabina Grey? Is that you?” The voice was low, masculine, and kind of husky.

  She looked up from the coffee she’d just poured and blinked her hungover eyes at the other occupant of the table. The guy was wearing the usual uniform for Chamber of Commerce meetings: blue suit, white shirt, red tie. But that’s where the comparison ended. The suit looked hand-sewn, the shirt had French cuffs, the tie was definitely Hermès. She had a feeling that if she looked under the table he’d be wearing Italian leather shoes.

  But she couldn’t manage that, because he was staring at her with an unwavering gaze, out of a pair of ice blue eyes that were somewhat obscured by a pair of tortoiseshell glasses. Those eyes were oddly still, as if he could see nothing but her. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

  Busted. The pounding in her head was joined by a definite pounding in her chest. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

  He leaned in kind of stiffly, his body straining forward. And even though an ocean of table separated them, his forward posture left her feeling slightly invaded.

  He spoke again, in measured tones. “You and I went to the eighth-grade homecoming dance together. You dumped me there.” The words were a condemnation, and yet they were delivered with little emotion.

  She knew him now. Layton Webster.

  Oh, good Lord.

  She wanted to slide right under the table so he wouldn’t see her red face. Or maybe she could get up and run on the high heels she took out of her closet every month for this meeting.

  But of course she couldn’t do either of those things. She was a thirty-five-year-old grown woman, not the cruel fourteen-year-old she had once been.

  And boy howdy, Layton Webster had grown up nice. Really nice. Who would have ever thought he’d turn out so well?

  “Layton Webster,” she said and screeched to a stop. What could she say that would make up for the way she had tormented him?

  Layton Webster had been a dork in high school. But he’d been a smart dork. He’d gone off to MIT, and she remembered hearing some gossip about how he’d invented some kind of system or software for computer-generated animation that he’d sold to Disney Studios for millions.

  “Uh,” she said, her mouth as dry as the Sahara, “what brings you back to Last Chance? I heard you’ve been quite successful.”

  “Uncle Elias asked me if I’d help him develop a project management system for his construction business. With all the growth around here, he’s got two housing developments in Allenberg County, and two more up north near Orangeburg. It interested me. I’m thinking I might be able to make this into an off-the-shelf software product that I could sell. As for this morning, Uncle Elias is busy, and he sent me here to see what y’all are getting up to.”

  There was something in the way he said “y’all” that kind of put Sabina off. And then there was the fact that he’d taken a seat here in the back of the room, at an empty table. Layton had always done that. He’d always set himself a little bit apart.

  But then how could she blame him for that? He’d been the geeky kid in school. The one who didn’t fit in. The loner. And she’d been cruel to him.

  It was incredible how much penance she faced for the person she’d once been. And here was another opportunity for her to repair the damage she’d done.

  “Layton,” she said, looking him square in the eye, enduring that deeply unsettling stare of his. “I am mortified by what I did to you at the eighth-grade dance. It was cruel and nasty and wrong, on so many levels. I apologize from the deepest places in my heart. I am a different person from that spoiled little girl I used to be. Life has a way of changing people. So I do hope you will forgive me. And I’m not saying this because you’ve been a success. I’m saying it because I was wrong. I owe you something.”

  He leaned back and looked away, almost as if he didn’t care about her apology or even the fact that she was sitting right there at the table with him. She couldn’t blame him. And really, even if he did accept her apology she would still find a way to wallow in the guilt. Guilt was one of her weaknesses.

  To her utter surprise, Layton’s lips curled halfway, and he caught her gaze once again. “Sabina, I accept your apology. And if you really want to make it up to me, join me for drinks or dinner sometime.”

  Oh, boy. This could be really great, or it could be Layton’s way of paying her back. It would serve her right if he invited her out to dinner and then stood her up.

  On the other hand, this could actually be something important. It was almost spooky the way Layton had shown up the day after Ross proposed to Lucy. The day after Miriam showed up at the store. And she owed Layton a pleasant night out—or maybe an opportunity to stand her up.

  She was mulling over the risks and rewards of accepting his invitation when Savannah Randall, the chair and founder of the Discover Last Chance Association, got up in front of the stage and welcomed everyone with a few announcements. DLCA had been founded for the express purpose of branding the town and building tourism. Last Chance had a few things going for it: a Bible-themed miniature golf course called Golfing for God, a converted bottling plant that provided studio space for working artists and artisans, and The Kismet, the movie palace that Savannah owned, which had just been recognized as a historic building by the State of South Carolina.

  “I hope y’all enjoyed your omelets this morning,” Savannah said. “Now I’d like to recognize Lark Chaikin, the chair of the program committee. She’s got a terrific idea she wants to discuss.”

  Lark, the wife of Allenberg County’s sheriff and an award-winning photographer, got up and started outlining plans for a town-wide fall festival that, unlike the summer Watermelon Festival, would focus exclusively on Last Chance. Lark’s plan called for a parade, a sidewalk arts and crafts fair, a film festival of southern movies, and a Miniature Professional Golf Association tournament.

  Lark revealed the logo for the event and outlined the publicity plans, which included regional newspapers and social media. She wanted every Palmetto Avenue merchant to display flyers and to incorporate the logo into their own marketing materials.

  “We’re going to need some volunteers,” Lark said. “We especially need someone to coordinate the arts and crafts festival. We’ll have the bottling plant studios open to the public, of course, but we would like to attract local crafters for booths on the sidewalk in order to create a street party feel for that Saturday. And I know it’s probably bad form for me to call on someone publicly, but Sabina, I see you hiding there in the back row; we really need your expertise on this. We figure you know a lot of people who have crafts to sell, since a number of them rent stalls at Last Chance Around.”

  Oh, crap. For the second time that morning, she wanted to slink under the table. She didn’t want to volunteer for this. She already had obligations to the Altar Guild, she was helping to organize the Christmas Bazaar, and she had picking trips scheduled
, and Lucy’s wedding coming up.

  But on the other hand, what Lark had said about her was absolutely true. If anyone else in town tried to coordinate a craft sale, they would probably make a mess of it and tick off the local crafters. And if that happened, she’d never hear the end of it—from her friends or the crafters.

  So either way, she was sunk.

  She stood up, resigned. “I’m happy to volunteer,” she lied.

  “You’re a sweetheart,” Lark said.

  Sabina sat down, utterly annoyed at herself. Why was she always the first one everyone asked to volunteer? Why did she never say no?

  The meeting droned on while she drank her second cup of coffee and tried hard not to look at Layton. She failed utterly, and at one point he turned away from the speaker to give her a look that practically smoldered. Was he flirting?

  Possibly.

  He finally leaned in. “So, about drinks and dinner? How about tomorrow?”

  Wow, the guy actually picked the one night she had free. This could be good or bad. She didn’t know. Best not to agree to dinner. “Uh, why don’t we meet for cocktails down at Dot’s Spot tomorrow evening, say around six?”

  He gave her that half grin that passed for a smile. She remembered that expression. As a boy, Layton Webster had worn that smirk like armor, as if to say that no one could touch him or hurt him. Although everyone tried, including herself.

  This was her chance to atone for her sins. Besides, a girl could do a lot worse than having a couple of drinks with a guy who’d graduated from MIT and had a few million in the bank.

  It would be utterly ironic if her Prince Charming turned out to be Layton Webster, wouldn’t it? But stranger things had happened. And God moves in mysterious ways.

  Ross closed up the firehouse and headed down the sidewalk toward Last Chance Around Antiques. He was feeling pretty good about himself.