Forgiving Jackson (8 page)

He would have bought her a palace if she’d wanted it. But she hadn’t. All she’d wanted was to “give the world a little elegance” and she’d wanted to do it at Beauford Bend.

He’d been surprised the first time Around the Bend showed a profit but he’d marked it up to luck or maybe that Amelia had finally reached the point where she didn’t need another crystal Champagne flute or golf cart. Now, he realized that time correlated to when Amelia had hired Emory.

Good. That meant Emory was good at her job and wouldn’t have trouble getting another one.

“I’m sure Christian will find a way to succeed,” Jackson said, though he wasn’t as sure as he sounded.

“Even if she could, what about the businesses in town?”

“What about them? You just sat here and told me people day-trip in to buy all that stained glass and handmade paper and whatever else they’ve got going on down there these days.”

“They do.” She nodded, closed out her spreadsheet, and brought up what looked like a diagram of downtown Beauford. “But we still go hand in hand. Just yesterday, Neyland MacKenzie sold nearly a thousand dollars worth of jewelry because the bride getting married at Beauford Bend forgot her bridesmaids’ gifts. And I mentioned how Noel from Piece By Piece is teaching the quilting classes here. She’s not even charging us because she knows those women will come into her shop and spend thousands while they’re here.”

Had she heard nothing he said? “Except they aren’t coming here, Emory. They’re going to have to do their quilting at Firefly Hall or maybe the fire hall. I don’t care as long as I don’t have to see a quilting bee!”

“They want to study the Beauford Bend quilts—quilts made by your ancestors. Do you have any idea of the value of that collection?”

“Hell, yes, I know. I ought to. I spent a fortune buying back what had been sold to keep this questionable roof over our heads, and another fortune to restore some that were too torn up to sell. Same thing goes for a bunch of lacy doilies, pillows, and old samplers.”

“Which is why a needlework guild spends a week here every spring. Naturally, they shop at the Eye of the Needle and String.”

“What? I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“In addition to finished pieces, Eye of the Needle sells embroidery supplies like silk thread, linen fabric, and really nice tools. String is more about knitting, crochet, and weaving.”

“You cannot tell me those stores are dependent on a gaggle of women coming around this house to look at some old pillows and stuff. And if they are, they have made some very bad business decisions that I will not lose one second of sleep over.”

“No. They’re not dependent on us. But”—she hit a key on her laptop and a handful of buildings on the diagram turned bright yellow—“these places are and we on them. They grew up because of Around the Bend. Beauford Catering. Eat Cake. Larry’s Limo Service. Photographs and Memories. Enchanted Garden Floral Designs. They do a little business outside of Around the Bend and Firefly Hall but not enough to keep them going. And there are many more that would be iffy without us.” She hit another key and about twenty of the buildings turned blue. “These would suffer. Some would make it without us, others not. These are people with families. They have homes with mortgages that they entered into in good faith.”

Jackson wanted to throw up. He wanted to tell her she was lying but he knew she wasn’t.

“I’ll give them money. I’ve got money. More than I’ll ever spend. I’ll give Christian money. The quilt people. I’ll pay for them to go to—well, wherever there are a lot of quilts. Quilt World. Let them take the knitters with them. Hell. I will pay you
a million dollars
if you’ll take them there and keep them there!”

As Emory’s eyes grew larger and larger, Jackson realized that his reasonable, modulated voice had grown decibel by decibel until he was screaming—screaming like a little girl who’d seen a snake.

They were silent for a moment. Then she reached out and placed one of her little hands on his wrist over his braided leather bracelet.

“Jackson, honey. You cannot support an entire town for the rest of your life.”

“You’d be surprised.” Not only had he made an obscene amount of money, he had invested well. He’d destroyed what had once been a happy family and he would be damned if he would ever see his brothers want for a single thing.

“These people don’t want your money. Neither do I. They just want to do the work they love and make a living at it, just like you do.”

But he couldn’t do his work anymore—didn’t want to. The price was too high.

“Why didn’t you try to make your case right after Amelia’s funeral when I first told you to start closing down the business?” Jackson asked.

Emory shook her head. “You didn’t tell me until you practically had one foot out the door, and neither one of us was in any state of mind for a debate.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

“Look, you’ve been through a lot these last few weeks—” she said, and would have gone on.

“No.” Without intending to, he pressed a finger to her lips to silence her. Her mouth was soft and her skin was warm.

She kept talking anyway, her lips whispering against his fingers. “I get that you want to be alone. I understand more than you know—just wanting to get to a place where there isn’t anybody else.”

He drew his hand away and opened his mouth to tell her that she had
no
idea but there was something in her eyes that told him she
did
know. On another day he might have asked her what had happened but if she told him a secret, she might expect one in return.

She left her hand on his wrist. He didn’t like what that was buying her.

“Truth is, you’ll be leaving soon,” Emory said.

“You don’t know what I’m going to do.” How could she, when he didn’t?

“I do.” She nodded. “You think you want to hole up here and lick your wounds. And maybe you will for a while. But in the end, you’ll go back out there. What’s going on here won’t matter one bit to you. I can’t let you ruin all these people’s lives.”

“In reality, you can’t stop me. And you can’t know I’m going ‘back out there,’ as you say.”

“True, on both counts. But you can’t put a talent like yours in a Mason jar. And you don’t want to blunder through here like a two-year-old knocking down his brother’s Lego fort.”

“I do.” He nodded. “I want to step on the Lego fort. I want it gone.”

“Then go ahead.” She pulled the laptop toward her. “I’ll email the quilters right now. Then I’ll call Christian and Noel.”

She began to type.

“Wait,” he said, though he hadn’t known he was going to speak. “Let me see the calendar.”

Emory’s hands shook as she brought up the Around the Bend calendar. If he called her bluff now, what would she do? Where would she go?

“I want to see the rest of June, plus July and August. No more. No less.”

She brought it up and swung it around toward him.

She expected him to have another come apart once he saw how solidly they were booked. But he just closed his eyes and shook his head. “Wedding. Engagement party. Three—no four—tours. Wedding. Sweet sixteen birthday. Wedding. Wedding. Anniversary. Mother/daughter luncheon. And the always charming charm school.”

“You’ll see that I’ve blocked off the days around the Fourth of July for the benefit concert you do for the Vanderbilt burn unit every year.” It was actually the Camille Beauford Memorial Concert but something told her not to mention his little sister’s name. “Amelia said you used to have a party for the performers and sometimes invite them to stay here. I know you haven’t done that recently but she always made sure it was available if you wanted to and I did the same.”

He acted as if she hadn’t spoken and continued to mutter. “Fifty-year school reunion. Belmont Panhellenic Picnic. What’s that? Never mind. I don’t care. Wedding, tour, wedding. You don’t let any grass grow under your feet, do you?”

She shrugged.

“I’m not even going to remind you again that I told you not to book anything else.”

“You just did. And thank you for not reminding me.”

He looked at the ceiling. “I must be crazy. I must be absolutely off my rocker. There’s not another man alive who would make this offer.”

Offer?
Was it possible she had bought some time in her safe place? Any was better than none. But she needed to continue to appear confident.

“Stop sitting there congratulating yourself and tell me the offer.”

“Why do you act like you’re holding all the cards?” he demanded. “You have no control.”

“I know. I’m at your mercy.”

“If I let you carry on through August, can you guarantee my privacy? Will you swear to keep them out of my way and away from my stuff?”

Relief settled over her. She’d worry about the fall later. “Yes. I can. They’ll never know you’re on the place.”

“All right.” He spread his hands in surrender. “But hear me, Emory, and hear me well. I don’t even want to know what you’ve got booked after August. I don’t want to hear about any parties to kick off football season, scarecrow-making competitions, or jack-o’-lantern-themed weddings. No taffy pulls, hayrides, or Amish-impersonating costume parties. Because they are not going to happen—not on my property. As of September first, you are out of here.”

“But what about Christian and the others?”
What about me?

“I’m getting to that. I suggest you move Around the Bend to Firefly Hall. I’ll give you the rights to the business name and all the client contacts. You can have all the extra dishes, napkins, and little geegaws that were bought in the name of the business. I’ll even pay your salary until you’re up and going.”

Her heart sank. “It won’t work. Firefly Hall is not as big as Beauford Bend or as grand. There simply isn’t room.”

He considered this for a minute. “Okay. I can see that. You shut down for a year, except for what little tea parties and such that Firefly Hall can accommodate. During that year, I’ll pay your salary and I’ll invest in the new business so you can build on to Firefly Hall. I’ll remain a partner as long as my financial assistance is needed. When you and Christian start turning a profit, you can buy me out with just what I’ve paid in. No interest.”

“But it wouldn’t be same. The new additions wouldn’t have history. Or a ghost.”

He frowned. “Beauford Bend doesn’t have a ghost.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned that. “It does now. That is, it has the one I made up. People like that. They expect it.”

He slammed his hand on the table. “Now on top of everything else, you have
haunted
my house!”

Better change the subject.
“People like the ambiance of Beauford Bend.”

“Me too. Only I like it without a bunch of parties going on. Or made-up ghosts. The difference is, I own it and they don’t. Buildings can be made to look old. Buildings can be anything you want if you’ve got enough money, and I do. You can sell the concept. I know this because for some reason that I cannot comprehend myself, you have bought yourself three months with nothing but that saucy little mouth of yours.”

“What if Christian doesn’t want to do this?”

“Then she can make a go of what she’s got or not. I’ve made the best offer anyone could ever have.”

“What do you get?”

“I’ll know I haven’t been the cause of anyone’s financial ruin and, come September, I’ll have my home back.”

“Come September, you’ll be on tour or off in some recording studio. Beauford Bend will be the last thing on your mind.”

“Wrong.”

“I’ll make a bargain with you.”

“How in hell’s name do you think you have anything to bargain with, woman?”

“You want me to go quietly and with good grace. You don’t want to have to call the police to have me removed. You don’t want a bunch of people suing you and splashing all over the news that you’ve ruined their dream wedding or fiftieth anniversary party. And I’m all that’s standing between you and that.”

The look on his face told her she had nailed it but he said, “I’ve got people on my payroll who could drive the devil himself out of hell. They could handle you between holes on the golf course.”

“That’s not what the papers say. They papers say you’ve fired everybody on your staff.”

His sage eyes flashed silver surprise. “Speculation.”

“Maybe. But here’s the deal. If you’re still here in September, I’ll go quietly. If you’ve moved on and forgotten us like usual, we’ll go on as before.”

“You’ve got a deal.” He looked very smug. “But I’m warning you, if I find any drunks in the family wing—”

“You won’t.” She stood up. She was feeling very powerful and she was determined to end this meeting on her own terms. “I need to go over to my office in the main house and write some checks and make some calls.”

He stood up too. “If you’re smart, those calls will be to everyone who has booked after August.”

“You let me worry about that.”

They moved toward the door together. “I’ll walk with you. I need to take a shower.”

As they walked toward the house, the beauty of the place struck Emory anew as it did from time to time. Funny, how you could see a place every day and take it for granted but, every so often, the light would be just right, or new flowers would have bloomed, and it all looked new again.

“Jackson, I hope Amelia made clear to you how happy you made her when you turned Beauford Bend back into the home she remembered from when she was a girl.”

He looked at her through his eyelashes. “Yeah? Well, I’m glad. She loved to tell the stories of how life was here before the Beaufords lost their money. I thought she’d want to close the business and do as she pleased but she didn’t.”

Emory laughed a little. “She
was
doing as she pleased. She loved Around the Bend.”

Emory watched him stop and take in the view. “It was in pretty bad shape. But my cousin Missy put me onto an architectural restoration firm in Nashville. Her friend, Brantley Kincaid, had just graduated from Vandy and gone to work for them. They did a great job.”

Emory nodded. “And the grounds are fabulous. Amelia said the landscape architects worked from old pictures.”