Home At Last Chance (Last Chance #2)(6)
Author: Hope Ramsay

Nevertheless, the fact that Tulane Rhodes, bad-boy stock car driver, had a policeman brother was pretty interesting news. His bio had failed to mention that very marketable fact. She wondered if Tulane’s brother was photogenic.

“So the chief of police is your uncle Tulane’s brother?” Sarah asked, trying to confirm the family relationships.

“Yes’m. And he’s a widower ’cause my momma is with Jesus up in Heaven. She died in a car wreck. Kinda like the wreck Uncle Tulane was in last weekend. Did you see him wreck? I saw it on TV.”

Clearly little Haley wasn’t much troubled by the fact that her mother was in the arms of the Savior or that her uncle cheated death every Sunday. “I didn’t see Tulane wreck his car,” Sarah said. She didn’t explain that she hadn’t seen this event because she had never in her life watched a stock car race. The fact that she had written a marketing memo about stock car racing had nothing to do with the sport and everything to do with advertising and good market research.

Oh yeah, and revenge against Steve for stealing her ideas on the Cuppa Java campaign. Of course, her revenge had backfired, proving that Mother was right: Sarah didn’t have much talent for the cutthroat business world.

“I’m glad Uncle Tulane had a car seat, otherwise he might be with Jesus now, too,” Haley said.

The little girl said the words “car seat,” and suddenly Sarah’s mind went off on a wild tangent. Her mind did that sometimes. “Car seat?” she said aloud.

“Yeah, you know, like babies ride in,” Haley replied. “Granny said Uncle Tulane wasn’t hurt ’cause he has a special car seat. She said it was like the car seat I had when that no-account drunk wrecked Momma’s car.”

Sarah’s heart squeezed in her chest. Good grief, Haley had survived the accident that took her mother’s life. The accident must have happened a while ago. Haley had no memory of it.

Haley was also about as photogenic as a kid could get, even with her hair a mess and her dress stained. In fact, her grubbiness was completely adorable and real. Sarah felt suddenly queasy—the sort of queasy that gripped her when she was about to make a leap of logic and find a wickedly good advertising idea.

Haley nattered on. “ ’Course, I didn’t have a car seat when Woody West, Jane’s boyfriend, crashed Granny’s car into Jesus down at Golfing for God. I got a big bump on my head that time. Daddy thinks I started hallinating when that happened, but he’s wrong about that.”

Golfing for God? What on earth? Sarah was abruptly brought back to the conversation. Had she missed something important? “What?”

“You know about hallinating, don’t you?” Haley said, and then launched into an explanation. “It’s when someone sees things that aren’t there. But I really do see the Sorrowful Angel.”

“Oh, I see.” But Sarah didn’t see at all.

Suddenly, Tulane was there on the porch with them. He swept down on the little girl, rescuing Sarah from the nonsensical conversation. He grabbed Haley by the h*ps and backside and boosted her up into the air. Sarah had been so intent on the ideas forming in her head that she hadn’t noticed Tulane’s return.

Tulane twirled the little girl around on his shoulders and tossed her up into the air in a homemade thrill ride. He looked so utterly at ease playing with Haley. The image of Tulane with a child had seemed out of place this morning, but now it didn’t seem out of place at all. He was good with the little girl, and he had been surprisingly good with the babies and toddlers at the baby-changing event. All of which would be necessary for this idea that was starting to gel in her mind.

Just then, a tan police vehicle pulled up to the curb, and Haley wiggled out of Tulane’s grasp.

“Hey, Daddy,” she yelled as she ran down the porch steps, her wild hair bouncing. A large man in a buff-colored uniform unfolded himself from the driver’s side. He stepped onto the curb and picked Haley up for a somewhat less exuberant hug.

Tulane’s brother was taller and wider through the chest. But other than that, you’d have to be blind to miss the family resemblance.

Haley’s father set the little girl down on the lawn and headed up the path with that same loose-jointed gait that marked his younger brother. This man seemed more serious than Tulane and much more dangerous—packing a latent power along with his handgun. He gave little away in his glance, shaded by the brim of his uniform Stetson.

Tulane introduced Sarah to his brother, Stone. She shook the policeman’s hand and said a few inane words of greeting. Inside of a minute, Stone excused himself and stepped into the house with Haley bobbing in his wake, talking a mile a minute like a little chatterbox.

Stone Rhodes had a name that fit. But he was amazingly photogenic, which made him perfect for the idea that had just struck Sarah from out of the blue.

“So,” Tulane said, once his older brother was out of earshot and Sarah had returned to her rocking chair. “I’ll bet Haley told you all about her momma being with Jesus in Heaven, didn’t she?” He picked up a long-necked Bud that he’d rested on the porch railing and sat himself down in the rocking chair next to Sarah.

“Yes, she did. And I—”

“Did she tell you about Golfing for God?” His voice sounded pinched.

Sarah cocked her head. “Yes, she said something odd about a car crashing into Jesus. It sounded like one of those bad jokes about God and Jesus golfing with Saint Peter.”

The corners of Tulane’s mouth turned down. “I wish it were a joke, honey.”

“You want to explain?”

“No.”

“Okay,” she said, but her curiosity had been thoroughly aroused.

He picked up his beer and leaned back in his seat. He took a long swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then he rested the bottle on the rocker’s broad armrest while he rocked. Sarah found herself studying the hand that held the bottle: long-fingered, broad-palmed, with short square nails. His hand simultaneously conveyed strength and gentleness, power and dexterity. Her mind flashed on those hands caressing more than just a bottle. Her body flushed with the thought.

This was dangerous. She needed to focus on her job and saving it. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When her heart rate slowed, she spoke. “Are you going to tell my bosses about how I humiliated myself?”

He angled a glance at her. “No. Not if you keep my secrets.”

She looked away. “I suppose I should thank you. But I figure they’re going to find out I fainted anyway.”

“Yup, I reckon so. And I figure you’re going to find out all about Golfing for God. So maybe I should just tell you and have done with it.”

“What is Golfing for God? A charity or something?”

He let go of a bark of laughter. “I only wish. No, Golfing for God is an eighteen-hole miniature golf course just south of town. It’s a running joke in Last Chance. It’s filled up with fiberglass statues of everything from Eve to Goliath. And there’s a life-sized ark.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“So why is that a problem? It sounds like fun. Can we go play a round after dinner? I’d like to see a putt-putt dedicated to God.”

Tulane stared at her as if she had dropped in to visit from Venus. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, why would I kid about that?” She met his stare, glare to glare, and she counted it as a victory when he finally looked away, out beyond the wisteria.

He took a long pull on the beer and then turned back toward her. “Unfortunately, the place was damaged by a thunderstorm back in October. My mother’s car was hijacked during that storm by my sister-in-law’s moron ex-boyfriend. Haley was in the car when it was hijacked. The idiot hijacker crashed the car into a fiberglass statue of Jesus in the parking lot of Golfing for God. Jesus is all smashed up, and the place is out of commission. And that’s not the worst of it. See, Haley took a pretty good blow to the head, and…” His voice trailed off.

“And?”

“Well, the thing is, she says she sees angels.”

“I see.”

Tulane took another long sip of beer and continued, “Haley and her angel, not to mention Golfing for God, are off-limits. You understand me?”

“Yes, I think I do.”

Tulane shook his head. “No, I don’t think you or the people in New York really do understand. See, since I got the ride last year with Ferguson Racing, it’s like the world wants to know my life story and, quite frankly, I’m not interested in telling certain parts of it. I just want to drive cars and win races and have people take me seriously for my driving. So I would be obliged if you would forget about Haley and Golfing for God.”

“Okay, I’ll try. But the thing is, she said something a minute ago that got me thinking.”

“What part of ‘forget about Haley’ did you not understand?” He leaned forward in his chair and glowered at her.

She held up her hand. “Please don’t get angry. Just listen, okay? Have you ever thought about using your position to support car seat safety? With your brother a policeman, it would…” She stopped midsentence. Tulane wasn’t happy.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked.

“Done what, visited South Carolina? No, I’m afraid this is my first time. I’m a South Carolina virgin.”

His cheeks colored, but she chose not to make any comment about it. Virgin was a perfectly fine word, but Tulane evidently found it titillating, which said a great deal about his maturity.

“No, what I meant to ask is, well, who else have you advanced in your career at National Brands?”

Uh-oh.

“I can see by the look on your face that you are an advance-man virgin, too. And by that last comment, I’d have to say you are seriously deluded about stock car racing fans. Car seat safety? Are you kidding?”

She brought her sweaty hands together. “Okay. You’re right,” she said. “I’ve never advanced anyone before. I’m mostly a researcher for the marketing and advertising departments. But, speaking as a market researcher, I’ve just come up with a good idea that will get you out of officiating at baby-changing races. Do you want to hear it?”

She hoped he did, because she needed to stop the baby-changing thing. That had been one of her worst ideas ever.

Tulane cocked his head. “You’re a researcher? You mean, like a librarian?”

Something snapped inside her. This might be the last chance she would have to save her job and make something of herself. So, she gathered herself up and glared back at Tulane Rhodes. “Give me five minutes and I’ll explain why car seats might be the solution to your problems.” And hers, too.

He nodded his head. She took that for a green light and started to talk a mile a minute. She figured if she had only five minutes, she would either make her point or crash and burn.

Haley Rhodes pulled on her granny’s shirttail. “Hey, Granny, did you know Miss Sarah isn’t really a Pilgrim? She’s a librarian.”