Home At Last Chance (Last Chance #2)(17)
Author: Hope Ramsay

Sarah knew precisely how to translate those words. Deidre was eager to keep her around so she could continue to steal her ideas. That made Deidre no different from Steve. Did everyone in business have to be so sharp and driven and dishonest?

“I’ve got to go,” she said, trying hard not to let her disgust show in her voice. The idea of using the death of a beloved family member to violate Tulane’s privacy made Sarah nauseated. She wasn’t going to do it.

“We’ll talk on Monday,” Deidre said into her ear. “And remember, I want every little detail.” Deidre rang off without actually saying good-bye.

Sarah followed Clay and Tulane up the front porch steps and into the house. At least thirty people had descended on Ruby Rhodes and her sister-in-law, Arlene Whitaker, widow of the late Peter Whitaker, owner and operator of Lovett’s Hardware for the last thirty-some-odd years. And since everyone in Last Chance had shopped at Lovett’s at one time or another, more people were expected.

Sarah almost heard Mother’s voice echoing in her ears the moment she entered Ruby’s parlor and registered the sheer number of people there. There were some things that one didn’t do, and spying on a grieving family and their friends was one of them. Sarah wasn’t going to do that, no matter what happened to her.

Tulane and his brother went straight to their mother and the grieving widow, bestowing manly hugs as they went. Grief pinched Tulane’s face.

It was time to get out of Dodge.

Sarah hugged the living room wall and made her way around the clot of people as unobtrusively as possible. She headed toward the kitchen, where she figured she could plug her—

No, wait, she couldn’t plug her cell phone in. She had left her briefcase in the limo at the Charleston Value Mart, and her cell phone charger was in the briefcase.

What an idiot.

She headed toward the kitchen anyway. There was probably a phone in the kitchen. She needed to call someone at Ferguson Racing and arrange for a car to come down with some appropriate clothes for Tulane. The car could pick her up and take her back to Florence.

She finally made it to the kitchen, only to discover that the Last Chance church ladies had already staked out this territory. She should have expected this, because really, nothing brings out church ladies like a funeral. Sarah herself had been dragged to countless funerals by her mother, and put to work brewing coffee, making sandwiches, and whatever else was necessary to feed the multitudes that always descended.

She knew the drill. She was not a funeral virgin, unfortunately.

The Last Chance church ladies had arrived with the energy and zeal of missionaries bent on saving heathen souls. They had come bearing casseroles, Jell-O molds, and banana pudding. Deidre was going to be disappointed. There didn’t seem to be any need for professional catering—assuming there were actually caterers in Last Chance.

In the middle of the chaos in the kitchen, like some preternatural hurricane’s eye, sat Miriam Randall, dressed in a blindingly bright purple-plaid pantsuit. Little Haley Rhodes sat on her lap.

Haley’s hair was coming out of its ponytail holder, and her face was smeared with what appeared to be chocolate. Nevertheless, the indoctrination of the next generation was well under way. Haley was helping to drop chocolate chip cookie dough onto baking sheets.

Sarah cast her gaze around the room, searching for a telephone. She found it, bolted to one of Ruby Rhodes’s sunny yellow walls.

Unfortunately, someone who resembled Ruby’s younger clone had beaten her to it, and in grand style, too. The Ruby lookalike had the landline pressed to her right ear, and a cell phone pressed to her left. She was masterfully handling two conversations at once.

She did this juggling of conversations wearing an immaculately tailored gray summer-weight worsted suit with a cream-colored silk blouse of the same luster as the pearls at her throat and ears. Her nails were perfect, her makeup flawless, and she gave the appearance of a woman who had never sweated a drop in her life—the sort of woman who could actually wear tropical-weight worsted suits in the Carolina sunshine and remain fully and actively conscious.

Why couldn’t Sarah be like that? Formidable. Imposing. In control.

The woman looked up, and their gazes locked across Ruby’s linoleum floor. Her green gaze traveled from Sarah’s windblown hair, across the silly bunny logo on her golf shirt, down to her baggy khakis, and ended with her slip-on boat shoes, which were appropriate footwear for Grandfather’s sailboat, but not at a funeral.

The woman said something into the landline and then something into her cell phone, and hung up on both conversations simultaneously, all while continuing to study Sarah as if she had been blown in by an unwanted wind.

“Are you with Tulane?” she asked without any preamble.

“Oh, Aunt Rocky, that’s Miss Sarah,” Haley said from her place on Miriam’s lap. “You know, the one who fainted that time.” Haley smiled her Bucky Beaver smile. “Hi, Miss Sarah.”

“Hi, Haley.” Sarah nodded toward the little girl and the ancient church lady. Then she turned back toward Aunt Rocky, who must be the little sister Tulane had mentioned. Rocky Rhodes was stifling a little half-smile. She seemed more delighted than she ought to be, considering that someone had died. “I’m Caroline,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Caroline?”

“Yes. I go by that name these days.”

“But she’s really Aunt Rocky,” Haley said as she continued to drop cookies on the baking sheet.

Sarah wondered if the real reason Tulane wanted to keep Haley out of the limelight was that Haley knew everything about everyone and had no filter on her mouth.

Sarah ignored the precocious child and shook Rocky’s hand. The woman had a firm, businesslike grip. Rocky probably had a firm, businesslike grip on everything in her life, including her career.

“I’m Sarah Murray,” she said. “I’m Tulane’s sponsor liaison. I was with him when we got the news. I traveled up here in Clay’s van while I worked on getting Tulane out of his various weekend obligations. Now my cell’s dead, and I don’t have a charger. I was wondering if I could use the phone, so I can arrange for some clothes to be brought down for Tulane.”

Rocky gave her a pixie smile, full of mischief, and stepped aside, clearing a path to the phone. “Phone’s all yours. But there’s no need to call for a car. I can take you up to Florence, if you need.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I don’t want to put you out. I’ll just get someone to send a car and then I’ll just ride back. Oh, and do you know who’s handling the funeral arrangements? National Brands wants to help any way we can, maybe with flowers for the service.”

“Do you now? That’s nice,” Rocky said, a speculative gleam in her green eyes.

“Yes, we do. Do you know who—”

“You know, Momma told me all about you,” Rocky interrupted.

“She did?” Sarah had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She could just imagine what Ruby had told Rocky—a lot of nonsense about how she had worn a black suit and fainted.

“She said you were Tulane’s nursemaid, and I didn’t believe her. I didn’t think anyone could actually keep my brother in line, but you seem to have the knack. That’s impressive.” The grin on Rocky’s mouth grew into a wide, beauty-queen smile.

“Uh, well, it’s not—”

“I’m guessing that being his nursemaid might be pretty interesting, since my brother is so immature. I can see they’ve sent a sensible person to keep him in line.”

“Well, um, thanks, I guess.”

“C’mon, I have a car. I’ll give you a lift up to Florence. To be honest with you, I wouldn’t mind getting out of this madhouse before Momma and I start arguing. And besides, I could use your help.”

“My help?”

“Momma told me you were handling all of Tulane’s personal appearances. I can only assume there is a lot of planning that goes into a baby-changing race. And I can clearly see that you’re in the middle of handling all the little details of my brother’s life right at this moment. I know what it takes to manage details, not to mention a difficult boss. So, the way I’m thinking is that you are, pretty much, the answer to my prayers.”

“I am?”

“Absolutely. I’ve got a crisis at the moment with my boss, Senator Warren. He’s having a snit fit about some stupid Englishman who has a real estate problem that needs fixing right away. The senator doesn’t really care that there’s been a death in the family. He can be an insensitive SOB at times. But he does depend on me. So all in all, you being here is like a godsend. It means I don’t have to continue to try to conduct two phone calls simultaneously.”

Sarah frowned. “A godsend? Really?”

“Sarah, around here we believe in the power of prayer, and I was just praying for someone to help. And the minute the prayer left my mind, you came strolling into the kitchen. I have a huge favor to ask. I’ve got way too much on my plate at the moment, and none of my brothers could plan their way out of a paper sack, since they were all close to Uncle Pete. And Aunt Arlene, who might be able to do that sort of thing, is a total mess, as you might imagine. As for Momma, she just lost her only brother, and she’s joined at the hip with Aunt Arlene right now. So until you walked into this room, I was thinking that I was going to have to manage this funeral all by my lonesome.” Rocky smiled. “But the reinforcements have arrived, haven’t they?”

“Have they?”

“Well, you did just say that National Brands wants to help any way they can. I’m going to take you up on that offer.”

“You are?” Sarah could hear the jaws of the trap swinging closed. Deidre was going to love this. And Tulane was going to be angrier than one of the rodeo bulls that Dad used to ride when he was much younger, before Mother roped and tied him.

“Yes, I am. Have you ever planned a funeral before?” Rocky asked.

“Uh, no. But my mother is a devout Presbyterian church lady and member of the casserole brigade.”

Rocky laughed out loud and took Sarah gently by her upper arm. “Sarah, I think I like you. C’mon, let’s go. You can get some clothes for yourself and Tulane and then you can help me with the arrangements.”

Rocky turned toward Miriam Randall. “Miz Miriam, can you put Sarah up for the next few days? I wouldn’t want to make her stay at the Peach Blossom Motor Court.”

Miriam looked up at them from behind her glasses. “Of course I can put her up. She stayed with me the last time she was here. And thank you, Sarah. I’m sure your mother would approve of your helping out.” She smiled like a possessed cherub.

“Good, it’s all settled, then.” Rocky tugged Sarah through the kitchen door and out into the parlor, where she announced that they were taking care of everything. Then they marched out through the front door and into the Carolina heat and humidity.

Rocky didn’t wilt in the heat. This didn’t surprise Sarah one bit. Because Rocky was a force to be reckoned with. Just like her mother.