Home At Last Chance (Last Chance #2)(43)
Author: Hope Ramsay

“Miriam said I would marry a preacher’s daughter? Really?” Something eased in Tulane’s chest. “Hey, wait, how did ya’ll know Sarah was a preacher’s daughter? I didn’t even know that until last Tuesday.”

“Well, I guess she told Jane. And Jane told Clay, and you know how that works. Once Clay knows a thing, it’s not a secret anymore.”

“So when did ya’ll know this?”

“Oh, well, I think Clay told me on the day Pete was buried. That’s why your momma has been working so hard to match you two up.”

“Momma’s been what?”

Elbert put up his hand. “Son, I try not to pay attention to details when it comes to stuff like that, but Ruby and Jane were laughing about some kind of pointy-toed boots or something. Look, if you want my advice, you should just give up. Sarah was made for you. You have Miriam’s word on that. If I were you, I’d get my butt over to the Cut ’n Curl and start apologizing. Take it from me, there ain’t nothing a woman loves more than a man who knows how to grovel and beg forgiveness.”

Chapter 20

Sarah hadn’t managed to get Tulane’s phone number from Ruby. She’d confessed all her sins, and the members of the Committee to Resurrect Golfing for God had absolved her of all wrongdoing. Except for the pink car memo, which they all agreed was an idiotic way to wreak revenge but which had, nevertheless, turned out to be a brilliant piece of marketing.

Sarah had lost count of the glasses of sweet tea she’d consumed while Jane did her nails and Ruby added highlights to her hair. But she had failed in her mission.

Sarah firmed her resolve. When Ruby finished blow-drying her hair, she would make a stand. She would get Tulane’s phone number.

And just then, the bell above the Cut ’n Curl’s door jangled.

Sarah looked into the mirror, which reflected the door, to see what new denizen of Last Chance had come by to gossip. The shop seemed to be overflowing with ladies this morning. Most of them weren’t even getting their hair done.

But it wasn’t one of the female residents of Last Chance. No, this visitor was definitely male. And the minute Tulane walked into that shop, Sarah’s autonomic nervous system went haywire.

He wore his favorite Alabama T-shirt and looked like he’d rolled right out of bed this morning. A cowlick stood straight up in the back of his head that would have made him look about twelve—except for the day-old beard darkening his cheeks. Sarah’s fingers itched to push that little tuft of hair back into its place. God, she loved the feel of his hair against her palm.

She ached with the thought that she would never touch him that way again. It was over between them.

She needed to apologize and then go home to Boston.

Ruby shut off the blow-dryer, and Sarah hopped down from the chair, still wearing her beauty shop drape. She turned and met him face-to-face.

“Tulane. This is a surprise.”

“Not as big a surprise as finding you here.” His drawl was deep and did something wicked to her insides. She loved him. She wanted to fall into him. But he was angry. The little muscle along his jaw was working. And when his muscle twitched like that, it was a warning sign.

“I was going to call you. Just as soon as your mother gave me your phone number.”

Tulane’s sober gaze flicked over the gallery of Last Chance ladies, who were following the conversation like spectators of a close tennis match. Sarah was suddenly glad for the audience. She was going to prostrate herself, and having witnesses was probably part of the penance she needed to serve before she could clear her conscience and move on with her life.

So she reached deep for that quiet authority that Grandmother Howland always possessed when faced with a difficult situation.

“I need to apolo—” They spoke in unison.

“What do you need to apologize for?” Sarah said.

“For believing that crap Deidre told me yesterday. I read that memo you wrote, Sarah. I’m still trying to understand how a person like you could write a thing like that.”

Despite Sarah’s efforts to remain quiet, logical, and formidable, her hands began to shake and heat crawled up her cheeks. “I know. It was really stupid. And my explanation is equally lame. Steve stole one of my ideas, and I thought if I wrote something silly, put his name on it, and then put it on Deidre’s desk, it would take his reputation down a little. I never gave one thought to what might happen if Deidre took the memo seriously. And I never even considered what putting a man in a pink car and driver’s suit would do to him. You’ve been incredibly patient. Really. I admire that about you.”

“Thanks, but—” She held up her hand to stop him.

“No, let me finish. I’ve learned my lesson. If I hadn’t been so set on getting revenge, or trying to be something that I’m not, then none of this would have happened. So see, I’m really, really sorry for the pain I caused you. And I can assure you that I’m going back to Boston and I’m not ever going to break any rules again.”

She ran out of breath.

Defeat curled around her insides when she saw the expression on Tulane’s face. She wasn’t sure what that vulnerable look was all about. He might be about to explode in a profanity bomb, or he might be about to laugh at her.

“I wasn’t talking about the baby-changing memo,” he said.

“Oh.”

“I want to understand why you used the death of Deidre’s baby the way you did. I want to believe that you couldn’t write a thing like that. But it has your name on it. I don’t want to doubt you. But doubt is eating me alive.”

“Oh. You read all the memos?” Her voice came out in a whisper.

“Deidre sent them to me yesterday. I have to tell you that the one you wrote where you said I didn’t have to win a race to sell diapers really stung. But not as bad as the one where you trashed Deidre. The Sarah I’ve come to know would never do a thing like that.”

Sarah twisted her fingers together. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but I didn’t even know Deidre had lost a child in a car wreck. Honestly. I didn’t write that memo. Steve wrote it. He wrote it to get rid of Deidre. He offered me a job last night, but I told him to go to hell.”

Tulane’s lips twitched, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked emotional. Unshed tears glittered in his eyes.

“Look,” Sarah said, “I’m not trying to get out of the blame for what happened. I may not have written that awful, hurtful memo, but everything that happened is still my fault. I’m so, so sorry about everything that’s happened. And now that I’ve apologized, I’ll just get out of your life.”

Sarah pulled the beauty shop drape from around her neck and handed it to Ruby, who was standing there with tears in her eyes, too. A quick inspection of the other women in the shop showed that half of them had their hankies out. Mascara was running all over the place.

“Thanks for the haircut,” Sarah said. “How much do I owe you?”

Ruby gave her a little hug and kind of pushed her forward, toward Tulane. “Sugar, you owe me a grandbaby when the time is right.”

Sarah didn’t have a chance to examine that comment, because the next thing she knew, she was enveloped in Tulane’s arms. He pulled her right in to his chest, the way he’d done on Monday, and he pressed his lips to the top of her head. He smelled great, like himself, and his breath feathered over her skin. She sagged against him.

“I accept your apology,” he whispered. “And I’m really sorry that for about ten hours I believed what Deidre said about you. I should have listened to my heart instead of the bullies. I’m so sorry I didn’t come find you last night. I was stupid. I let Lori Sterling feed me her rum punch, and you know how deadly that stuff is.”

Sarah closed her eyes and drank in the sensation of coming home.

“Uh, Sarah, we need to go someplace private, ’cause there’s something else I have to say.”

She looked up at him. “I don’t think so. The ladies are here as witnesses, I think.” Tears of relief were starting to smear her vision.

“Yes we are, Tulane, so get on with it,” Ruby said.

“Yes, ma’am.” His smile broke out in earnest as he looked down at Sarah. “I have something else I need to apologize for.”

“You do? What?” Sarah asked.

“For not being honest with you on Monday.”

“But you were honest, right from the start. You were clear about everything.”

Tulane grunted a little laugh. “No, honey, you were clear. But maybe not so honest. See, you could say that—” He bit off the words and looked around at the ladies.

“Momma, this is really private stuff.”

“Uh-huh, we haven’t had such fun since all of Clay’s ex-girlfriends came to town and confused the living daylights out of him. Now, you get on with it, you hear.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Tulane looked back down at Sarah. “I’m really sorry about this. I should take you out into the alley and say this, but Momma would kill me, so I’m going to say it here.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I figured, since you’re basically one of them.”

“I am?”

“Oh, yes, you are. So see, the thing is, you were clear on Monday, but I knew you were lying. You were lying to yourself. And I knew it, going in. I let you believe it was all just a casual thing because that was what you wanted, but I always wanted more.”

“You wanted more?”

“Yeah, and if I’d been a man instead of an idiot on Tuesday morning, I would have stayed and told your father that I loved you and that my intentions were honest. He asked me, by the way, and I was so angry at being blindsided that I said something stupid.”

“You love me?”

“Yeah, I do. But the question is, do you love me?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You love me? Really?”

“Yeah, Sarah, I do.”

“I love you back. I’ve loved you for a long time.”

He gave her a less than erotic kiss on the lips, then linked a trail of semi-chaste kisses to her earlobe.

Sarah wanted him to do something wicked with her ear, but instead he whispered, “Sarah, honey, I know you say you’ve given up breaking the rules, but I’m feeling a little constrained here with this audience. And I thought, since I’m already AWOL from the track, that it might be real fun to go on over to the Peach Blossom Motor Court for a long, serious conversation about our future, followed by a little hanky-panky. I’m sure Lillian Bray would enjoy the show, and since we’ve already got an audience, I’ll bet we don’t even get into too much trouble.”

Her whole body flushed and she looked up into his beautiful green eyes. “You want to take me to a no-tell motel? Really?”

“Oh, yeah.”

EPILOGUE

Two weeks later, the blazing sun beat down on the top of Sarah’s head as she walked down a row of soybeans. Not that she was an expert in South Carolina agriculture, but Tulane called them soybeans, and she figured he probably knew.