Chapter 2 - the will

I glared at him, but it only made him laugh.

The crowd followed us. He put my bag down in the hallway, and a young man came and picked it up.

"Your great aunt's things are still in the master bedroom. Any room in particular you want?" James asked me.

"No", I squeaked. Dammit. I refused to let this situation intimidate me.

"Really...you don't have to carry that", I told the young man.

"David", James offered. "David works here, Miss Thompson, it's his job, he gets paid to carry your suitcase."

This wasn't the place for a fight. I tried to get my patience back.

"Thank you, David, the Rose Room is fine, I used to stay there as a kid", I told him. He looked confused.

"Your great aunt converted the Rose Room into a study years ago. Take her things to third room on the right", James corrected.

And now he apparently knew more about Belle Rive than I did. He was pissing me off more by the second.

Living in an overpriced small, dumpy L.A. apartment, I had forgotten about this place. It was a little like a palace or a hotel. As a kid it hadn't occurred to me that my great aunt had to be rich. In fact, it hadn't occurred to me until this very moment. That fact had flown under my radar.

We all gathered in the library. James sat behind my great aunt's desk, being very showy and deliberate with every move.

"Sweetheart", Britney said, reaching over to touch my arm, "We can wait a few minutes if you'd like to change." Her evil syrupy grin, along with her question, was meant to knock me off balance.

"Into what? A pumpkin?" I asked, "Let's just get this over with."

Britney swallowed and fanned herself.

James cleared his throat so no one could hear him chuckle.

The Last Will and Testament of Emmaline Daphne Durand was long. She had spelled out in detail every single possession she had. It was like she was daring her benefactors to sit there in the heat for hours and listen. Last man standing won. After the pearl earrings she wore to her cotillion went to my little 12 year old cousin Virgilia, there was nothing left...except what everyone wanted.

"And Belle Rive, the house, grounds, and holdings, I leave to my great niece, Savannah Daphne Thompson. May she come home to stay. No one ever had muddier feet, or loved the Cooper more, except me."

And then I did the damnest thing and broke into tears.

All of the neighborhood girls had left with a nice piece of jewelry, my aunts were happy to get most of her bank account, as were my cousins. But Belle Rive was the real jewel. It had to be worth millions, and NO ONE was happy it was mine.

James quickly got up. "I'm so sorry for your loss." No sarcasm this time, he clearly meant it.

If I wasn't careful, I'd have to put a point in his column. Up close, he smelled like Geoffrey Beene Gray Flannel. It would have been far too easy to sink into his big, comforting arms. There was a tiny orange dot on his fine lawn white shirt.

"You've got something..."

He looked down. And turned bright red.

"Gabby's sweet potato pie..." He wiped it off.

"Gabby? Gabby?! She's still with us?" I asked, excited.

"Eighty-five and more energetic than most 30 year olds", he said with a wink.

"Does she still live here?"

"No, her daughters put her in a home a few years back. They all go see her everyday though, she's got a good life", he said.

"Well I have to see her tomorrow", I said.

The crowd was gone, grumbling to themselves.

"I have to say good-bye to everybody", he said in the low country twang I was finding less annoying by the minute. "You want to say anything to them?" he asked.

"Noooooo. You go on. I'm...tired."

"I'm sure you are. Anything I can do for you tonight?" he asked.

I flushed. "Huh?"

"Tonight. I'll come back tomorrow to talk to you more about the house. Anything you need before then?"

"Oh noooooo", I said, thoroughly embarrassed. "I just need my luggage, and a bed, and..."

"What?" he asked.

"Did she still keep any of that good bourbon around here?"

"Lord have mercy, don't talk about Miss Emmaline's bourbon." We both burst out laughing. "But if you really want to know, it's in the cabinet, right of the refrigerator", he offered.

"Thank you."

"Good night, Miss Thompson."

"Good night, Mr. Devereaux."

He looked back at me.

"Hmmmmmmm?" I asked. He was staring.

"You have her huge chocolate brown eyes, she'd turn those puppy dog eyes on you and she could get you to do anything."

"Smart lady." I said.

"Oh my coat..."

He moved toward me again. Maybe I was tired, I don't know, but I just stood there and made him squeeze past me as his big, warm body brushed by me. I inhaled. He smelled so good, he looked so good, and I knew he'd feel so good.

"Pardon me", he said, turning bright red, snatching his jacket off the chair.

"No problem", I answered.

"I'll be by tomorrow to talk to you about selling Belle Rive."

"And what if I didn't sell it?" I asked. Where the hell had that come from? I had a life elsewhere.

"Ummmmm...."

&q uot;There goes the neighborhood?" I asked coldly. "Nevermind."

"I was pausing to think... you know you jump to conclusions awfully fast."

"No, I don't. I already know exactly what everyone around here is like. What they think. Or rather what they don't. I could probably tell you with a reasonable degree of certainly what they had for breakfast this morning."

He moved to leave, then turned back around. "If you hate everyone here and think we're so inferior to you, why would you consider staying?"

"Who said I was?! And I never said I thought anybody was inferior to me."

"You just did! So you're not selling, but you're not staying. Can you afford that?" he asked.

"I can't afford any of it, I couldn't stay if I wanted to, not that I want to stay in this bum *** town." I was tired.

"You didn't use that kind of language when I knew you."

"Are you seriously correcting my speech? It's late. Say goodnight to the Jessicas. I'm going to bed."

He took a deep breath. "I apologize. I had no right to say that."

"Oh don't pretend to be all nicey nice all of a sudden. I've been dealing with guys like you for years, I..."

I stopped. "I'm just tired."

"I know that, Savannah." Savannah. Why did it sound so nice in that accent of his?

He walked away and I went to kitchen to carry a bourbon up the big winding staircase like a Scarlett O'Hara - very far from home.