chest. She’d felt his heart racing in tandem with hers, and though all fear had swiftly passed, she’d felt an insane urge to loop her arms around his neck. A pleased smile had hovered over her lips as she’d gazed up into his handsome face, and then she had realized that he had made her fall and her good sense had, thankfully, come rushing back. Mortified, she’d scrambled out of his arms and tried to catch her breath.
Jessa shrugged, as if he hadn’t made much of an impression on her. “Garrett something-or-other.” Abby shook her head, so Jessa went on. “Tallish.” Six feet, at least, maybe an inch or two over. “Black hair.” Thick, coal-black hair that shadowed his square jaws and made his bright blue eyes all the more piercing.
She shivered. Men that handsome always disturbed her. This one…something about this one frightened her, and it wasn’t just his claim on her home. It was more an odd sense of familiarity coupled with instant attraction.
“Hmm,” Abby mused, “could be another nephew. There are too many Chatams to shake a stick at, and not just around here, either.” She straightened. A busty woman with skinny legs, she wore a boxy shirt and shorts that displayed bony knees. “Well, it’s all for the good. After a few days at Chatam House, you and Hunter can return to me. That will give us at least a week to find another place for you.”
“In other words,” Jessa said morosely, “you think he’s going to get this place.”
Abby opened her mouth as if to deny it, but in the end, she merely sighed. Jessa figured she was right, but she pushed her hopelessness aside.
No. Not this time.
She had a verbal agreement with Ellie Monroe, entered into in good faith. Money had changed hands. Not much of it, granted, but money, nonetheless. She had invested in the place already and started scraping off the nasty, stained wallpaper in the butler’s pantry that was so perfect for her purposes. She had every right to this property, and she would not stand by while some man took their home from her and her son. Not again.
Not ever again.
Meanwhile, she would plan how best to approach this matter. Looking down at herself, she grimaced. She could start by putting her best foot forward. She hoped Abby had an iron.
As usual, the tea tray had been prepared while Garrett and the Chatam sisters attended the midweek meeting at the Downtown Bible Church that evening. Hilda, the cook, poured hot water into the silver pot before Garrett carried the tray from the kitchen. Despite the mouthwatering aroma of Hilda’s famous ginger muffins, Garrett felt in a grim mood. Jessa Pagett and her son should have arrived hours ago, but Hilda reported seeing “neither hide nor hair” of their expected guests thus far. Had she decided to stay at the house on Charter Street, after all? He didn’t suppose it mattered, in the end. She was bound to get the place if that’s what Ellie wanted.
Reaching the elegant foyer, he skirted the sweeping, marble staircase and turned into the large, antique-filled front parlor. It tickled him to see Odelia Chatam cuddled up on the settee with Kent Monroe while Mags and Hypatia pretended not to notice from the wing chairs placed around the low, piecrust table.
The Chatam sisters, maiden ladies in their mid-seventies, were as different as triplets could possibly be. Hypatia was all silver and silk, as regal as a queen. Odelia could not have been more endearing in her flamboyant costumes and oversize jewelry, her hair a soft, wild cap of white curls. Kent obviously adored her, but her many nieces and nephews didn’t call her Auntie Od for nothing. Magnolia, on the other hand, his own dear Mags, brought to mind visions of garden spades. Tough and no-nonsense in her funky galoshes and shirtwaist dresses, she possessed a heart of pure gold. As did they all.
“Here we are,” Hypatia said, turning as Garrett carried the heavy tray to the table.
“Tea is served,” Garrett announced unnecessarily, his words punctuated by the sound of the brass knocker on the front door.
“Our new guests have arrived,” Hypatia concluded, as Magnolia moved briskly toward the foyer.
“About time,” Garrett muttered. Aware that his heartbeat had sped up, he slowly straightened and turned toward the open, doublewide pocket door, parking his hands on his hips just below belt level.
Several seconds of muted conversation ensued before Magnolia reappeared with Jessa Pagett and a young boy in tow. Mags made short work of the introductions.
“Allow me to make known to you my sisters, Hypatia and Odelia. Garrett you’ve met. And this…” She waved a hand at Kent, who was even then lumbering to his feet. “Is Kent Monroe. Everyone, this is Jessa Lynn Pagett and her son, Hunter.”
Jessa had changed into crisp, dark slacks, a tailored, off-white blouse and dress shoes with tall heels. Wisps of light golden-brown hair framed her face, the mass of it having been twisted up in the back. She smiled and nodded, but he felt her wariness.
The shaggy-haired little boy with her looked to be about four years old and seemed equally curious and uneasy. His plump-cheeked face showed nothing in common with his mother’s triangular one, but his dark, troubled eyes were miniature versions of hers. In his baggy jeans and yellow plaid shirt, he looked like someone Garrett had used to know.
Himself. After his dad had died.
Garrett’s heart turned over in his chest. There were other houses, he told himself. And this would not be the first or the last time that he suffered disappointment.
Chapter Two
“Won’t you join us?” Hypatia asked from her chair, but Jessa shook her head.
“Oh, no. Thank you. We wouldn’t want to intrude, and it’s been an eventful day.” She glanced at Garrett, adding, “We’re both tired.”
A gentleman of the old school, Kent straightened his bowtie before smoothing the hang of his tweedy sport coat over his prodigious belly and clearing his throat. “My apologies, ma’am, concerning the situation on Charter Street.”
Jessa nodded and offered him a strained smile, her gaze again flitting to Garrett.
“Well, it will all be sorted soon enough,” Magnolia said, “once Ellie and Asher have a moment to get together with everyone.”
After seeing the boy, Garrett figured he knew just how it would all sort out.
“Bad timing,” Odelia opined, smiling at Jessa, “with the weddings and all.”
Garrett could almost see Jessa Pagett’s ears perk up at that.
“Weddings?” she echoed.
“Oh, my, yes,” Kent said with a chuckle. “First Asher and Ellie’s. Then ours.” Reaching down, he took Odelia’s hand in his and bent over it, so far as his prodigious belly would allow, to press a kiss to her knuckles. She chirped like a tree full of magpies. This, in turn, set her earrings aquiver, huge clumps of yellow beads to complement the layers of lemony gauze that she wore belted at her waist with a twist of gold rope.
Garrett smiled in sheer delight. They were just so happy, and why shouldn’t they be? At their ages, they had put aside the mundane cares that burdened most marriages and looked forward simply to spending the rest of their days together. Odelia was in alt over being a June bride, and Kent was in alt over her, his lost love restored to him after fifty years. Garrett envied them, but at least he enjoyed watching them make calf’s eyes at each other. He could hardly bear to be in the same room with Ellie Monroe and Asher. The two of them together made him feel…lonely. For some reason, his gaze went to Jessa Lynn Pagett, who stood staring at the toes of her shoes.
The sisters traded looks, then Magnolia said, “Well, we won’t keep you. Garrett, would you mind showing Jessa and Hunter to their rooms? Chester’s already taken their luggage up to the small suite.”
“My pleasure,” he murmured, moving toward the door.
The boy reached for the reassurance of his mother’s small hand, shrinking