Last Chance Beauty Queen (2 page)

He laid down his silverware and then wiped his lips with his napkin. “No, George didn’t provide those details. I did hear from the real estate chap that the owner of the land in question is a complete nutter. But I was given to understand that the business on the property is no longer in operation. Is that not correct?”

Nutter
. UK vernacular for crazy as a loon. Great, just great. “Golfing for God was hit by a hurricane and a lightning storm last fall. It’s not currently in operation, but there is a movement to—”

“Good, then I should be able to negotiate with the man who owns it. I’m planning to pop ’round to have a look tomorrow.”

It was her moment to choke. Luckily she didn’t have any food in her mouth. “You can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know who you’ve been dealing with in South Carolina, but anyone in Last Chance will tell you that trying to get Elbert
Rhodes
to sell his property would take a miracle. Literally.”

“Elbert Rhodes?” His eyebrow curled upward. The man ought to have a quizzing glass.

Her face burned with embarrassment. She had managed to tell the truth, and now she would have to endure his snotty, snide, superior laughter. He was not going to take her seriously.

“That’s right, Lord Woolham, Elbert Rhodes, the owner of Golfing for God, is my father.”

Hugh looked down at Caroline with some surprise. The wanker who owned the land was her father? That wasn’t good. What had the senator been thinking?

He studied Caroline for a long moment. She didn’t look like the daughter of a wanker. At first glance, she looked the very model of a professional woman, but there was something not quite right about that. Her face was fey and otherworldly, and she looked rather like an Arthur Rackham illustration of the Queen of Faerie, with slashing eyebrows, pale skin, and unruly hair as dark as the ravens in the Tower of London.

She tilted her head, exposing a long, swan-like neck set off by a little gold necklace with a small crucifix. Their eyes met and connected. His cheeks heated.

He had not counted on Miss Rhodes being so dishy. He had expected an older and rather ordinary woman, given what Senator Warren had said about her. He forcibly relaxed his shoulders. He needed to keep his mind on business.

“Well then,” he said, his voice sounding thin. “Does Senator Warren know this?”

“He does.”

“And he sent you here anyway?”

“He did.”

“And you’re here, aren’t you? You haven’t come to sabotage me.”

“No, Lord Woolham, I’ve come to try to talk reason to you. My father is eccentric, and he’s never going to sell out, so the best thing all the way around is to avoid a confrontation and look for another site for your factory.” She pulled a folder from her briefcase and handed it to him. “I took the liberty of asking the South Carolina Department of Commerce to give me some suggested alternate sites.”

Hugh took the folder but didn’t bother reading it. “I already have this report.”

“You do?”

“Yes. And it’s no use, really. You see, my late partner, George Penn, already purchased the land adjacent to Golfing for God, and the man who sold it is not interested in having it back and returning the money I spent on it. So I intend to build my factory right there, in Last Chance. I will have your father’s land, one way or another.”

Or he would lose his shirt and Woolham House in the bargain. He was mortgaged up to his neck, and he had only one chance to tap into the lucrative U.S. market for textile machinery. But he wasn’t about to tell her that. She was, for the moment, as much an adversary as a friend.

He watched her for a moment, halfway expecting her to get her back up. After all, he did sound like a melodramatic villain in a set piece.

Instead she smiled. “Good luck with that. Believe me, you would solve any number of family problems if you could convince Daddy to part with Golfing for God.”

“Not very loyal, are you?”

She let go of a nervous laugh. “Don’t assume that I’m opposed to your project because it’s my father’s land that’s in question. I’m not against building new factories in South Carolina. Factories create jobs and economic growth that our state badly needs. I don’t think I’d shed any tears if Golfing for God was bulldozed. You have no idea what it’s like to grow up having a father who speaks with angels and runs a putt-putt place dedicated to the Almighty. But it’s Daddy’s land and his decision, and his decision is unshakable.”

“Are you refusing to help me?” He wouldn’t blame her.

Her smile faded. “No, the senator wants me to help you, and I want to please him. But to solve this problem, we’re going to have to find an alternate site for your factory. Building it on Daddy’s land isn’t going to happen.”

“Look, Miss Rhodes, I think I’ve made it clear that I’m not interested in starting over somewhere else. I need to go down to Last Chance and speak with the leaders of the town council and with your father, and maybe even his angels, if I can get them to play along with me. I’d like you to help me arrange some meetings tomorrow, if you’d be so kind.”

Miss Rhodes closed her eyes and leaned back against the banquette. She looked miserable and lovely. He sympathized with her plight, but he was in his own tight spot, too.

And failure wasn’t an option.

“I’m not good at scheduling meetings with angels,” she said.

He had to stifle a little laugh. “The town council will be good enough.”

She opened her eyes and gave him a frank and direct stare. She had lovely green eyes. “This would be a terrible time to visit Last Chance,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because it’s Watermelon Festival time.”

“Watermelon Festival?”

“Yes, it’s a big deal in Last Chance. Allenberg County devotes a full week to extolling the virtues of the melon. It’s also an excuse for a bunch of activities that would bore you.”

“What kind of activities?”

“Oh, you know, the usual Watermelon Festival kinds of things—demolition derbies, seed-spitting contests, country music sing-alongs, pie-baking contests, carnival rides, and the official kickoff parade this Saturday, followed by a barbecue where they smoke two pigs.”

The smile he’d been fighting suddenly won. “That’s brilliant.”

“Brilliant? What’s brilliant?” She seemed genuinely surprised by his reaction.

“A country fair such as the one you’ve described would be perfect. It’s just the sort of occasion that brings out all the local politicians. I could save a great deal of time. Everyone will be in one place.”

“Well that’s true, but—”

“Senator Warren put you at
my
disposal until this issue is resolved. I perfectly understand your conflict, Miss Rhodes, but your local knowledge will be invaluable. So I would like you to make arrangements for us to go to Last Chance for this festival. I’d like to be invited to the reviewing stand for the parade on Saturday. Perhaps we can drive down tomorrow afternoon, and have a few meetings on Friday, and then I can do my politicking during the festival over the weekend. I’d like you to arrange a few personal meetings between myself and the various officials, not to mention introducing me to your father.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Miss Rhodes said in a strident tone. “Last Chance is in the middle of nowhere. It’s near a swamp. And it’s hot. Much hotter than England. And we have snakes and alligators living in the
Edisto River, which runs right nearby. And most important of all, there aren’t any fancy hotels there, where a person such as yourself might stay overnight.”

Hugh had already read several South Carolina tourist guides on the flight over from the UK. He was well aware of the swampland. And now that he knew, Hugh fervently hoped that George hadn’t purchased any of it, although from the looks of it, George was so incompetent he just might have.

Hugh had only himself to blame for trusting George with his money. He could almost hear Granddad’s voice in his head pointing out every single one of Hugh’s shortcomings. Telling him, in no uncertain terms, that he would never be a success at anything important.

But he would make a success of this. And this beautiful woman in the dark gray business suit might be the only person who could help him achieve that success.

He had to be strong, assertive, and arrogant if he was going to get the job done. He gave her an imperious stare and said, “Miss Rhodes, I intend to build my factory in Last Chance, South Carolina. If I have to go on safari to get there, I will. So, I would appreciate it if you would arrange accommodations for me, and schedule some appointments.”

She stared up at him for a long moment as emotions from indignation through acquiescence played across her features. And then something changed in her mien. A mischievous spark ignited in the depths of her green eyes that was neither anger nor submission. She was up to something the way the pixies always got up to trouble in the childhood stories Aunt Petal had told him.

Caroline gave him a big American smile. “Well, I
guess I could ask Miriam Randall to put you up. She lives in a large Victorian house that used to be a hotel a hundred years ago. She sometimes takes in boarders.”

He had no idea who Miriam Randall might be, but by the twinkle in Caroline’s eyes, he had a feeling he might have just made a terrible mistake.

C
aroline slammed her briefcase down on the threadbare carpet in her office cubicle. The senator’s Columbia office was in a tired old building not far from the state capitol. The traditional-style mahogany furniture had scars marring every surface, and the standard-issue blue leather chairs looked like they had been in use during the Wilson Administration.

She loved her office just the same. Having this semiprivate cubby was a sign of her rank, as well as all of her hours of dedicated service since her graduation
summa cum laude
from the University of South Carolina.

She’d landed the job with Senator Warren right out of college and had started her career as a caseworker, helping people with their Social Security Disability issues. In just a few years, she’d made herself indispensable. Two years ago, she’d become the administrator of the senator’s main state office. When the election was over this November, she hoped to land a job in the senator’s office on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC.

But the election was going to be tight. The senator faced two challengers—a Democrat and a populist Independent. So landing a new factory for South Carolina would be of significant political benefit. If she could clear the obstacles for Lord Woolham’s factory, the promotion she coveted would be hers.

Caroline fell into her squeaky office chair and rested her head on her desk for a long moment.

Clearing the obstacles for this factory to be built in Last Chance would be impossible. Even worse, this assignment had the potential to blow up in her face and undermine the senator’s trust in her.

Senator Warren knew she came from a small town. And he knew Daddy’s land was at stake. But she had worked hard to keep the most embarrassing details of her background quiet.

She’d gotten rid of her small town wardrobe. She had learned, through painful experience, to keep her mouth shut and think before she said anything stupid. She was circumspect and professional in everything she did. She didn’t want to embarrass Senator Warren. And she certainly didn’t want to embarrass herself or her family.

But Lord Woolham was going to blow her cover. And her attempt to talk him out of building in Last Chance had fallen on deaf ears.

DeBracy was going to visit Last Chance, and Caroline couldn’t stop it from happening. Given the situation, it was probably better for her to accompany him. At least that way, she might be able to control the damage to her career.

But before she arrived in Last Chance with his Lordship
in tow, she needed to issue a general warning to the folks back home.

She picked up the telephone and dialed.

“Rocky, darlin’, what a surprise,” Ruby Rhodes, Caroline’s mother, said on the other end of the line.

Momma and everyone in Last Chance had always called Caroline Rocky because her first name was Sirocco and she had three brothers named Stone, Clay, and Tulane. Losing her quirky name was part of Caroline’s makeover. A senator’s aide didn’t need a name like Rocky Rhodes. A senator’s aide wanted a plain name that was easy to spell. Of course, no one in Last Chance ever called her Caroline.

She clutched the phone and squeezed her eyes shut. “Momma, I have some news.”

The silence on the other end of the line seemed to last for hours. “Bad news? Are you all right, sweetie?” Momma asked.

“I’m okay. But I have a huge problem. I’ve been asked to help the man who wants to buy Golfing for God.” Caroline said it really fast on the theory that news like this was better delivered rapidly, in the same way that it was better to rip off a Band-Aid quick.

“By who?”

“The senator, who else?”

“And you said yes to this?” Momma apparently had heard every word despite Caroline’s delivery. The headache Caroline had been fighting finally blossomed into a throbbing cluster of pain over her right eye.

“Uh, no, I didn’t say yes,” Caroline countered. “I told Senator Warren that it was impossible. But you know how he doesn’t listen.” Caroline massaged her eye socket, smearing her eyeliner.

“His inability to listen is one of the reasons I’ve never voted for him,” Momma said.

Caroline didn’t respond. Momma was a Democrat. Senator Warren was a Republican. Enough said about that.

Caroline snagged her purse off the floor and tipped it over on her desk searching for the little green bottle of aspirin she always carried. “Look, Momma, I don’t want to help this man get Daddy’s land.” She found the green bottle, and cradled the phone against her shoulder.

“Then why did you call?”

The adult-proof cap finally gave way, and Caroline popped two of those babies into her mouth without any water. She fell into her chair, closed her eyes, and let her head drop back against the high back. “Because,” she said, “the stuck-up English lord who wants to buy Daddy’s land just told me that he wants to pop ’round for a visit during the Watermelon Festival.”