Home At Last Chance (Last Chance #2)(4)
Author: Hope Ramsay

Tulane’s mother stopped and took a long moment to size Sarah up. “Who died?” she asked.

“I beg pardon?”

“Sugar, in that black suit, you look like you’re either on your way to, or just come from, a funeral. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that black is not your color?”

“No, ma’am. I’m… uh…” Sarah ran out of words. Her stomach felt suddenly queasy. The Value Mart hot dog she’d consumed twenty minutes ago rested there like cement.

“It’s hot as Hades out here, sugar,” Tulane’s mother continued. “And black is a poor choice for this part of the country. You aren’t from around here, are you?”

“No, ma’am. I’m from Boston, originally.”

“Well, that explains it. You know, if I were you, I’d definitely try green. It would bring out the color of your eyes and complement the highlights in your hair. Is that a natural color?”

“Yes, ma’am. Why don’t we step inside the store and we can wait for Tulane?”

“Oh, no thanks. I’m used to the hot. Born and raised not twenty miles from here. I can manage. And I see him right over yonder and—”

“Mrs. Rhodes, Tulane—”

“Oh, call me Ruby, sugar. And you are?”

“I’m Sarah Murray. I’m with National Brands.”

Ruby blinked a few times. “Well, if you’re with National Brands, why are you wearing black?”

Because black is a power color, and I thought it would help me keep your son in line. Instead it was doing a good job of slow-cooking her.

“I mean,” Ruby continued, while Sarah stood there sweating through the armpits of her hundred-dollar silk blouse, “shouldn’t you be wearing pink?”

Was that the Southern variety of sarcasm? It was delivered in a friendly tone, like Ruby Rhodes might be giving fashion advice and not expressing her opinion of the Cottontail Disposable Diaper pink car advertising campaign. It was hard to decide, what with the sweat running down Sarah’s back, and the sun beating on her head, and the heat radiating up through the soles of her closed-toe shoes.

“Uh, thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” Sarah said.

“You do that, because pink—especially in a deep rose color—would be good for you.”

“Thanks. Now, if you’d like to step over—”

“Oh no, you can go back to work or whatever you were doing. I’ll just wait right over yonder for Tulane.” She pointed to the tent where the autograph seekers were lined up.

“Ma’am, your son asked me to—”

She gave Sarah the Look. Ruby Rhodes had definitely mastered it, because it froze Sarah in midsentence.

“He sent you here to take care of me, didn’t he?”

“Well, yes, ma’am,” Sarah said cautiously. “He wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”

“No, sugar, he wanted to make sure I didn’t go over there and embarrass him. And really, I ought to do that, because he deserves it, but I have more manners than that.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sarah felt light-headed. She needed to get the woman out of the sun and into the store where they could both cool off. She longed to take Ruby by the arm and drag her toward the beckoning doors of the big-box retailer.

But it was against corporate rules for her to touch or manhandle anyone. Management had insisted that every employee attend a sensitivity training session on how to avoid lawsuits. So she stood there, envying Ruby’s sun visor, cotton shirt, and sandals.

“He deserves a lecture,” Ruby continued. “Do you know he didn’t call last week on my birthday? And then,” the woman said, putting her hands on her hips, “I read in the Orangeburg Times and Democrat just this morning that he’s going to be up here signing autographs, and he didn’t even bother to tell me. Now, I ask you, if you were his mother, wouldn’t you want to give him a piece of your mind? The boy lives over in Florence and never comes home to visit, even though it’s not a very long drive.”

“Ma’am, I promise you can give him a piece of your mind. In fact, he probably deserves a piece of your mind. Just wait until he finishes signing autographs. Now, if you would just come with me—”

Sarah took a step toward the store doors, and the world tipped sideways.

Ruby reached out a steadying hand, and Sarah latched on to it like it might be a lifeline. “I don’t feel well,” she murmured, right before her brain shut off and she pitched forward, into the arms of the small but capable Ruby Rhodes of Last Chance, South Carolina.

Chapter 3

Sarah hardly weighed much, for all her curvy shape. Tulane carried Sarah in his arms. She wasn’t unconscious anymore. She cracked one hazel eye.

“I fainted, didn’t I?”

“Yes, ma’am, but don’t worry, as usual Momma’s got everything under control.” Tulane wondered if Sarah heard the sarcasm in his voice.

He carried Sarah toward Momma’s Ford Econovan, where Ruby stood, shaking her head in disgust. Tulane wasn’t sure whether Momma was annoyed because of Sarah’s stupidity in wearing black on a steamy day, or whether she was on the warpath because he had forgotten all about her birthday. Momma slid the door open on the van. Ruby had already turned on the motor, and the AC was roaring.

He laid Sarah out on the back bench seat and turned toward his mother. “I’ll drive. You get some Gatorade in her,” he said.

Ruby stepped up into the back of the van and bent over Sarah. Tulane closed the sliding door and climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Bless your heart,” Ruby said from the back seat in her best motherly voice, “here’s some Gatorade. It’ll fix you up good as new.” Tulane watched in the rearview mirror as Ruby lifted up Sarah’s head and tipped the bottle of sport drink. Sarah drank. Her color began to improve.

Thank God. Maybe she wouldn’t die of sunstroke. Maybe he wouldn’t have that on his head.

“Think we need to take her to the emergency room?” he asked.

“We can take her over to see Doc Cooper if she isn’t feeling better by the time we get to Last Chance,” Momma said.

He should have known that was coming. But he couldn’t let his National Brands nursemaid ever see Last Chance, South Carolina. He had to extract himself from this situation.

“Momma, I—”

“We’re going home, Tulane, where I can keep an eye on her to make sure she’s okay.” Momma said this in her no-nonsense voice. Tulane knew he was done for.

He had two choices. He could argue with Momma and let Sarah see his temper fully unleashed, or he could shut up and drive. All in all, given that he was in the doghouse with his sponsor and car owner because of his temper, he decided discretion was the better part of valor. But keeping his cool was hard.

And, boy howdy, once Sarah figured out his secrets, he was going to have to keep her from spilling them to the world. How was he going to do that without also pissing off his sponsor and potentially losing his ride with Ferguson Racing?

He was caught in a vise manned by two little bitty women and the vastness of corporate America.

“Momma, I really think—”

“Son, you are coming home and that’s the end of it. And while you’re there, you can visit your uncle Pete. He’s not doing so well, and you’ve hurt him by staying away.”

Guilt and sadness constricted his chest. He hadn’t been visiting the folks precisely because he didn’t want to see Pete. It was selfish, but seeing Pete bald and feeble did something unpleasant to Tulane’s insides.

“Momma, we have luggage in the rental, and—”

“That’s no problem,” Ruby rejoined. “We’ll just go get it and then head home. I’m thinking Miriam has extra rooms in that house of hers. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind putting Sarah up for the night. I’ll just give her a buzz on the cell phone, and we’ll have it all arranged. Don’t you worry. Sarah’s going to be fine, and no one will blame you for anything.”

“Blame me? But—”

“Hush up.” Momma pulled out her phone and started dialing. The arrangements were made inside of three minutes.

By the time they had picked up the luggage from the rental car and were headed south on Route 321, Sarah had recovered and was sitting up.

“Thanks, Mrs. Rhodes,” Sarah said. “I’m so sorry that I—”

“Now, that’s all right. It happens. And you being from up north and wearing black didn’t help. I’m going to take you home and feed you supper. We can get to know each other, and then Tulane’s daddy will drive you back up here tomorrow morning, early enough for you to get the rental car and make your appointments in Florence and Palmetto.”

Momma turned and glared at Tulane’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “Because we all know how important it is to meet one’s obligations. Don’t we?”

“Yes, Momma.” It was over. Tulane had lost. He always lost when he went toe to toe with Momma.

“Really, Mrs. Rhodes, I’m feeling much—” Sarah started to say before Momma cut her off.

“Don’t you worry about a thing. You know, I would be so happy to give you some advice on color choices. You are definitely an autumn. Now drink your Gatorade.”

Sarah drank.

“So you’re from Boston?” Momma asked Sarah a moment later. Tulane stifled a groan.

“Yes.”

“With that hair and your name, you must be a nice Irish Catholic girl?”

“Momma! Stop! You can’t go around—”

“Hush, Tulane. Just drive. We’re getting to know each other.”

“No, ma’am, I’m a Presbyterian,” Sarah said.

“Oh, well, isn’t that nice? A Protestant girl. We’re Episcopalians. I’m afraid we don’t have a Presbyterian church in Last Chance. But we do have a Baptist and a Methodist and an AME, of course. That would be the largest congregation, the AME.”

“I guess it would,” Sarah replied, as if this conversation weren’t utterly bizarre. No doubt there were people in Boston who had similar conversations with strangers, and Sarah came from those people. That or she was just stringing Momma along so she could get the full picture on just how strange his kin were.

Tulane glanced at her in the rearview mirror. The garish red color was fading from her face, and her freckles were popping out. Boy, she was cute.

“So, did your family come over on the Mayflower?” Momma asked.

Tulane gripped the wheel and gritted his teeth.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sarah said, and Momma straightened right up in her seat like she’d been hit with a cattle prod.

Oh brother! It was a lead-pipe cinch that the Last Chance church ladies would all know about Sarah’s background before suppertime. Every single one of those old biddies would want to meet the little Presbyterian from Boston whose forebears came over on the Mayflower. And then, after that, they would start introducing her to the eligible men in Allenberg County, which, unfortunately, included himself.