Home At Last Chance (Last Chance #2)(20)
Author: Hope Ramsay

At some point in his total breakdown, Sarah Murray, nursemaid, hopped up on the running board, reached in through the open window, and touched him on the shoulder.

Something eased inside him. The girl had a real gentle touch.

“It’s all right, Tulane,” she said. “Just let it all out. You’ll feel so much better.”

He took her advice. He couldn’t have stopped bawling if he’d tried.

He looked up sometime later as his sorrow started to ease, and he realized that the cruiser and all of his siblings were gone. He turned toward Sarah, who stood on the running board, silhouetted against the security lights behind her. He couldn’t exactly read her expression, which was okay with him, because he didn’t want to see any pity in her eyes.

He had a random thought that what she’d just witnessed was going to take their professional relationship in a direction neither of them actually wanted it to go.

“Move over; I’m driving. You’ve definitely had too much to drink,” Sarah said. She tried hard to keep her voice level. Her heart ached for Tulane. He was so sad, and he was trying so hard to hold all those feelings in.

It really wasn’t fair, the way the world imposed rules on men at times like this. She had no doubt he was embarrassed that she had seen him like this.

But she promised herself that she would hold her tongue on this matter, and on all his other secrets.

Tulane scooted across the bench seat. She opened the door and climbed behind the steering wheel. The truck seemed about five sizes too big for her.

“Am I in trouble?” he asked as he sagged back against the passenger-side seat.

Sarah fumbled around until she found the mechanism for moving the seat. She hauled it forward. She could almost reach the pedals.

“No,” she said as she started adjusting the mirrors. “You’re not in any trouble. You can thank Stone for that.”

“I can’t believe he didn’t give me a lecture.”

She turned the ignition key, and the truck rumbled to life. “Well, I think he understands, Tulane.”

“Stone? Understand? I don’t think so.”

“You might be surprised. He thought it might be easier for you to have me drive you back than for him to do it. Besides, there was limited room in the cruiser since your brother and sister are both drunk as skunks.”

“Me, too,” he said in a little-boy voice.

“I know, dear, but it’s all right. Everyone understands. Just don’t make it a habit, okay? Deidre wants someone squeaky clean for her car seat campaign, and breaking and entering, trespassing, and driving a truck around a dirt oval while intoxicated is probably grounds for arrest.”

“You aren’t going to tell her, are you?”

“No.” Sarah turned the wheel and drove the vehicle toward the gate. The cruiser was waiting for her, without its bubblegum lights going. She flashed her headlights and pulled out onto a two-lane road, following Stone back to Last Chance.

She glanced over at Tulane. His eyes were closed. Her heart lurched in her chest. She had a huge crush on this guy, and seeing him cry like that only made it worse. A girl could get a notion that a man like him needed a shoulder to weep on at a time like this.

But, of course, her shoulder was off-limits. And the very fact that Stone had hauled her out here to rescue Tulane underscored her position. It was her job to take care of him. But it was a job. Nothing else.

They drove in silence for a long time, and she thought he’d passed out. But he surprised her when he said, “Thanks for helping me out today; I really appreciate it.”

“All in a day’s work.” Her voice sounded almost professional. “When you get home, you should drink some water and take a few aspirin, and try to get some sleep. Don’t worry about anything. I’ve got it all covered,” she said.

Darn, she sounded like a mother hen. That was good, wasn’t it? She was supposed to be a mother hen. Which, of course, explained why her heart was pounding, and she was fighting the urge to reach out across the bench seat and take his hand in hers.

“Tomorrow’s going to be hell,” he murmured.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“You loved Pete a great deal, didn’t you?”

He didn’t say a word, but the silence in the cab became a heavy thing. Maybe Tulane wasn’t entirely cried out.

They sat in silence as the lights of Last Chance came into view. When he spoke again, his voice sounded gritty. “He never saw me win.”

“Really? I thought—”

“No, I mean as a NASCAR Sprint Cup driver. Pete never saw me win a race. All those years he supported me. He taught me every damn thing I know, and when I finally made it to the top…” His voice strangled. “Shit,” he said.

“You know, I don’t think less of you because you’re sad, Tulane. It’s not a crime to cry at a time like this.”

“Maybe for some guys. But I have rules about stuff like that.”

“Well, you told me once you never saw a rule you didn’t want to break.”

“Yeah, well, not this one.”

Sarah made a right turn off Palmetto Avenue onto a street whose name she didn’t know. He started talking again. “It’s so unfair,” he said. “All that hard work to get to the top and what happens? Ya’ll paint my car pink and make me help folks change diapers. It’s stupid. I feel like I let him down somehow.”

He sat up and opened his eyes. “Where are we?”

“No clue, somewhere in Last Chance. I’ve been following Stone.”

He looked around. “Let me out at the curb.”

“But—”

“Just do it.”

Sarah pulled the truck over and, almost immediately, the cruiser ahead of her stopped. Tulane opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. “You’ll find Miriam’s place just down this road and to the left. I’m walking home.”

He slammed the door, turned on his heel, and walked away.

She halfway expected Stone to get out of his car and insist on Tulane being driven home, but Stone was a wiser man than that.

When Tulane was five steps away, Stone flashed his lights and pulled out from the curb. Sarah pulled out behind him. She had no doubt that Stone would guide her safely to Miriam’s.

She gave a quick glance in the rearview mirror. She could just see Tulane walking along the sidewalk, heading in the opposite direction. She hoped he didn’t go off to Dot’s Spot and drink more. But he was a grown man, and he needed to deal with this grief on his own terms.

Still, it troubled her to know that she was responsible for a large measure of his grief. When she wrote the marketing plan for the pink car, she never once thought about what it might do to the man who had to sit in it every Sunday. She never thought that it might be a distraction that would keep him from winning races or making his family proud of him.

Suddenly Sarah could almost hear one of Mother’s tirades about how she was wasting her talents on things that didn’t matter. Shame washed through her.

She needed to find a way to make things better for Tulane.

But how was she supposed to do that?

She had been sent to South Carolina to spy on him. Deidre wanted her to find a reason to get him fired. And the only way to convince Deidre that Tulane might be a good spokesperson for car seat safety was to break her promise to Tulane and tell Deidre about Haley. Sarah was stuck in a moral dilemma.

Chapter 9

Hettie Marshall checked her reflection in the vanity mirror of her Audi. Thanks to Ruby, every hair had been tamed. Her Armani silk suit evoked class without being ostentatious. Her mineral makeup hid the red around her nose and the puffy bags under her eyes. She didn’t think anyone would know she had cried herself to sleep last night.

She looked like one of the porcelain dolls she collected. And hadn’t her life been like those dolls—admired and protected and lived inside a glass case?

Until Mr. Dixon had delivered his report about all the interesting things Jimmy had been up to. Hettie had expected to discover that her husband was cheating on her. But Jimmy’s transgressions weren’t quite so simple.

Oh, no; it turned out that Hettie’s husband was a crook.

The word sent a frisson of revulsion through her. She had tried so hard to live her life between the lines. She had done everything Mama had asked of her, becoming the epitome of a Southern lady, dedicating her life to her church, marrying well.

And now this.

She was at her wit’s end. Divorce was not an option. Her reputation would be lost for all time. And even though her parents had passed on, both of them would disapprove.

What was a Queen Bee supposed to do in a situation like this?

In the absence of divine guidance, the answer was clear—a Queen Bee pretended nothing was wrong and put off all the unpleasantness until tomorrow.

Hettie picked up the casserole from the passenger seat and opened the car door into the heat and humidity. One of Last Chance’s citizens had passed away, and Hettie was a member of the Ladies Auxiliary. The rules for proper comportment were clear and comforting.

She entered Ruby’s nice little house, paid her respects to Arlene, and then headed toward the dining room, casserole in hand.

She heard Reverend Ellis’s voice before she got there. The sound of it, deep and sincere, eased the tension in her chest. It was always a marvel the way his voice resonated from the pulpit on Sunday mornings. Hettie never objected to Bill’s long-winded sermons. She could listen to him for hours. He was almost as good as a cigarette for calming her nerves.

She entered the dining room, prepared to give him a big smile and a heartfelt hello. But her disquiet redoubled the instant that she saw Bill engaged in a conversation with an attractive young stranger with auburn hair.

Bill and the stranger looked perfectly matched.

Hettie wasn’t sure how long she stood there transfixed. Long enough, in any case, to be caught by Miriam Randall, who came in from the kitchen, bearing a tray of cookies.

“Oh, hey, Hettie, you can put your macaroni and cheese right next to Millie’s squash casserole.” Miriam pointed at the spot on the dining room table.

Hettie put the casserole dish down and leaned in to whisper, “Is that the woman from Boston?” Hettie nodded toward Bill and the stranger.

Miriam shoehorned the cookie tray between the banana pudding and the Jell-O mold. She looked up with a smile. “She is. Aren’t they handsome together?”

Hettie said nothing. They were handsome together, and Hettie didn’t want to acknowledge it. Because the redhead was a whole lot younger than Hettie. Or Bill, for that matter.

Mischief danced in Miriam’s dark eyes. “But then again, Sarah is as cute as a button, and this house seems to be overrun with handsome men. I declare, Ruby has certainly raised herself up some fine-looking boys.” She turned her gaze toward Tulane, who was lounging by the sideboard, scowling at the minister in a strange fashion.

Hettie squared her shoulders. She needed to get a grip on herself. “So,” she said, trying to fix a smile on her face, “it looks like another one of your predictions is going to come true.”