Flirting with Disaster Read online

  Josh stared Dinah down, but she never so much as blinked. He turned his gaze on Cord. “Is she telling the truth?”

  “Dinah’s a journalist,” Cord said. “She always tells the truth.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Josh said, still skeptical.

  “You’re saying yes?” Dinah asked eagerly.

  “Sure,” Josh said without enthusiasm. “Like Cord said, I’ve got time on my hands. I might as well do something productive with it.”

  “You’re an angel,” Dinah declared.

  Josh chuckled. “Not even close, darlin’. Not even close.”

  Now that she was back in Charleston, Maggie knew she had no choice but to drop in to see her mother. If Juliette Forsythe heard from someone else that her daughter had returned, Maggie would never hear the end of it. It would be added to her already lengthy list of sins.

  The Forsythe mansion faced Charleston Harbor, its stately elegance protected by a high wrought-iron fence. The front lawn was perfectly manicured, and in spring azaleas spilled a profusion of pink, white and gaudy magenta blossoms over the landscape. But in July, as it was now, everything was unrelentingly green. Juliette didn’t believe in “tawdry” annuals along the walkways or hanging in pots from the porch ceiling. One brave gardener had edged the walkway with cheerful red geraniums and been fired on the spot for his audacity.

  Maggie had timed her visit carefully. Juliette had a standing hair and manicure appointment at 10:30 a.m. Thursdays, so that she would be looking her absolute best when she met her friends for lunch and shopping in the historic district. By arriving at nine forty-five, Maggie knew she would only have to endure a twenty-minute grilling before being dismissed. No one kept Madame Monique waiting, not even Juliette. In fact, the hairdresser was the only person in all of Charleston that Maggie had ever seen intimidate her imperious mother.

  “It’s about time you came to see me,” Juliette declared when Maggie walked into her upstairs sitting room, where she was drinking her morning coffee and finishing her raspberry croissant. She was already dressed in a stylish knit suit. A pair of one-carat diamond studs winked at her ears. Her makeup was flawless. Every highlighted blond hair on her head was in place, which seemed to mock the need for the impending salon appointment.

  Juliette was fifty-seven, but looked ten years younger, the result of obsessive control of her diet and enough skin-care products to stock a spa gift shop. Her self-absorption might annoy Maggie, but it was simply the way Juliette had been raised. Her duty was to be an asset to her wealthy husband and a doting mother to her children. Unfortunately, there had been only Maggie upon whom to lavish all that attention. Maybe if there had been sons or another daughter to distract Juliette, Maggie wouldn’t have been the focus of so many maternal rules and regulations and would never have felt the need to rebel.

  Now Juliette did a disapproving survey of Maggie’s simple red dress and sandals, then sighed before adding, “I thought you’d vanished.”

  “Obviously you weren’t too concerned or you’d have hired a search party,” Maggie replied, bending down to give her mother a dutiful peck on the cheek. “How are you? You’re looking well.”

  “I’m humiliated, that’s how I am,” Juliette declared. “I can barely hold my head up as a result of that debacle with your wedding.”

  “You should be in my shoes,” Maggie retorted, though it was clear the sarcasm went right over her mother’s head. Everything was always about Juliette, how events affected her. By the time Maggie had hit her teens, she’d given up expecting a sympathetic ear.

  “You still haven’t said why you haven’t been by,” Juliette complained.

  “I’ve been away,” Maggie said, regretting that she’d bothered to rush right over, since it was evident her mother hadn’t been especially worried about her absence.

  Juliette looked momentarily startled. “Away? Where? You never said anything about going away.”

  “I rented a house on Sullivan’s Island. I’ve been out there for nearly a month now.”

  “My heavens, why would you do a thing like that? What if your father and I had needed you in an emergency? Do you ever think of anyone other than yourself, Magnolia?”

  “If you’d needed me, I would have known about it,” she said. “I checked my phone messages every day. Since there weren’t any from you, obviously there were no emergencies, so don’t make a big to-do about it now, Mother.”

  Juliette regarded her with a familiar expression of dismay. “Sometimes I just don’t know what to make of you.”

  Maggie bit back a grin. “Now there’s a news flash,” she muttered under her breath.

  Her mother frowned. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing important,” Maggie said. “I should run along now. I know you need to get to your appointment and I have to go to the gallery and check on things there. I just wanted you to know I was back.”

  Her mother glanced at her watch, obviously torn. “I do need to go, but we really must talk soon, Magnolia.”

  “About?”

  “This fiasco with Warren.”

  “The fiasco with Warren is over. It’s not open for discussion.”

  “But I’m sure you could mend fences if you put your mind to it,” Juliette persisted. “He’s a reasonable man. I’m sure he’ll forgive you for whatever you did to upset him.”

  “He’ll forgive me?” Maggie said incredulously. “Are you kidding, Mother? I didn’t do anything. He’s the one who called off the wedding. If there’s any groveling to be done, let Warren do it.”

  “There it is again,” her mother said accusingly. “That stubborn streak of yours. It’s always been your downfall, Magnolia. If you don’t reconcile with Warren, what will you do?”

  “I’ll survive, Mother. In fact, I’ve already gotten involved in an exciting new project that will take up a lot of my time for the rest of the summer. I’ll tell you about it next time I see you. Now, we both really need to get moving.” She leaned down for another quick kiss. “Love you.”

  Duty done, Maggie was out the door and down the stairs at a clip an Olympic runner would envy. With her visit to Juliette behind her, life already looked brighter.

  Maggie’s improved mood lasted only until she walked into Images and took a good look around at the displays that had been created in her absence. They were chaotic. Of course, she had no one to blame but herself. She was the one who’d gone off and left the decision making to her employees. She could hardly expect a twenty-one-year-old who dressed all in black and had pink streaks in her hair, or an art-school dropout whose mind tended to wander when she wasn’t in front of a canvas, to arrange the gallery with the same expertise and attention to detail that Maggie would. She was probably fortunate that they’d even bothered to uncrate the new shipments and price them.

  “You’re back!” Victoria exclaimed when she stirred from reading her book. Judging from the cover, it was something dark and depressing, suitable for a woman in black.

  “Indeed, I am,” Maggie said. “I see the new shipments came in.”

  “Last week,” Victoria acknowledged. “I didn’t want to touch them, but Ellie said we probably should. The gallery was starting to look kinda empty, like we were going out of business or something.”

  “Ellie was exactly right,” Maggie said. “Is there coffee made?”

  Victoria stared at her blankly. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, coffee. We make it every day in case a customer would like a cup.”

  “Oh, I thought it was just for you, and since I didn’t know you were coming back today, I didn’t make any.”

  “Never mind. I’ll make it, and as soon as I have a cup you can tell me what business has been like while I’ve been gone.”

  “Actually, you’ll need to ask Ellie. I have an appointment at eleven, so she’s coming in early. Since you’re here, I’ll go now so I won’t be late.”

  Maggie had always given her employees a lot of flexibility in scheduling, but usually sh
e expected them to work longer than an hour before taking off. “When will you be back?”

  Victoria shrugged as if the concept of time was of little importance. “How should I know? It depends on how long Drake can get away.”

  “Drake?”

  “My boyfriend,” Victoria explained impatiently as if Maggie should know that.

  Maggie searched her memory. “I thought your boyfriend was named Lyle.”

  “He split, like, three weeks ago, so now I’m seeing Drake.”

  “In the middle of a workday?” Maggie said, subtly trying to suggest that there was something inappropriate about that. The notion apparently was utterly foreign to Victoria.

  “It’s when he’s free,” she said reasonably. “After work, he has to go home to his wife.”

  Maggie stared after Victoria as she fled to keep her “appointment” with her new, married boyfriend. And Juliette thought Maggie made bad choices. Her mother should spend an hour or two with Victoria. Maggie would begin to seem downright traditional after that.

  A few minutes later, as Maggie was sipping gratefully on her first cup of very strong coffee, Ellie came in. In comparison to Victoria, she looked thoroughly professional in her tan slacks and white blouse. Her hair might be short and carelessly styled, but it was a perfectly normal shade of golden blond.

  “Where’s Victoria?” Ellie asked, obviously startled to find Maggie behind her desk. “You didn’t fire her, did you?”

  “No, though the thought has crossed my mind. She went to see Drake.”

  Ellie grimaced. “Can you believe it? She’s dating a married man. And he must be having some kind of midlife crisis or something. Why else would he pick somebody as flighty as Victoria? He’s old. He must be thirty-five, at least.”

  Maggie herself had issues with men that age. Warren was thirty-five. “Maybe you could sit here and tell me what’s been going on. Has business been good?”

  Ellie looked vaguely disconcerted by the question. “I guess,” she said eventually. “The deposit slips are all in your desk.”

  Maggie sighed. She should have known better than to expect any kind of overview of the gallery’s business the past month from either Victoria or Ellie. She was lucky they’d managed to keep the place from burning to the ground in her absence.

  Ironically, the customers loved them. The two young women, with their off-beat quirkiness, seemed to fit the artistic stereotype people anticipated when shopping in a gallery. Her own contribution, she supposed, was class, necessary to assure the customers that the works and antiques on display were genuine and worth every penny of their exorbitant price tags.

  “Thanks for looking after things,” Maggie said, meaning it. “I really appreciate the way you pitched in.”

  “Sure. No problem. You know me. I can always use the extra cash.” Ellie’s expression brightened. “But I did sell two of my paintings while you were gone.”

  Maggie beamed at her. What Ellie lacked in business skills, she more than made up for as an artist. “Congratulations! I told you it was only a matter of time. I think we should talk about having a real show one of these days. You’re ready for it, don’t you think?”

  Ellie’s joy faltered. “Maybe you should come by the studio and take a look before you decide,” she suggested worriedly. “Maybe there aren’t enough good paintings yet. I don’t want you to be embarrassed.”

  “You could never embarrass me. You’re the most talented artist I’ve discovered yet,” Maggie assured her with total sincerity. “I can’t wait to really give your work a big splashy show. Why don’t I come by one evening after we close and take a look. Then we can decide. I’d love to schedule something for this fall.”

  “Really?” Ellie said, her eyes shining.

  “Sweetie, you’re going to be showing in the Museum of Modern Art in New York before you know it, and I’m going to be bragging that I knew you when.”

  “Don’t even tease about that,” Ellie said, bright spots of color in her cheeks.

  “Who’s teasing? Don’t you know how good you are?” She could see by Ellie’s doubtful expression that she did not. “Don’t worry. You’ll see. I promise you.”

  In fact, seeing Ellie’s career take off the way a few of Maggie’s other discoveries had before her was exactly the kind of achievement that kept Maggie in business. It was reassuring to know that in one area of her life, her judgment was impeccable.

  3

  There were at least forty people milling around in the church parish hall when Josh arrived there on Saturday morning. A long folding table was loaded down with a coffee urn, pottery mugs and trays of doughnuts and pastries. He wasn’t convinced there was enough caffeine or sugar in the world to get him through the weeks to come, but he filled a cup to the brim and grabbed a couple of glazed doughnuts before going in search of Cord.

  He found him in an alcove, deep into what sounded like a very serious conversation with an unfamiliar man. Josh was about to back away when Cord spotted him.

  “Hey, there you are,” Cord called. “Josh, get over here and let me introduce you to Caleb Webb. He’s the minister here and the driving force behind this project.”

  Surprised, Josh took another look at the man dressed in worn jeans and a polo shirt. He didn’t look like any preacher Josh had ever known. For one thing, he was built as if he’d been working construction all his life. For another, he was young. Certainly no older than Josh’s age, thirty-four.

  The few preachers Josh had encountered in his brief brushes with religion had all been old and mostly crotchety. They’d spent a lot of time talking about fire and brimstone, which had been pretty scary stuff to a kid. Caleb looked like someone you could enjoy a beer with at the end of the day. He also didn’t seem like the kind of man who’d try to frighten a youngster into behaving.

  “Sorry for interrupting,” Josh told them. “I just wanted to let Cord know I was here.”

  “Not a problem,” Cord assured him. “Caleb was just filling me in on a couple of problems that have cropped up.”

  Josh should have guessed this project wouldn’t be the picnic Cord had promised him. “What kind of problems?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about,” Caleb assured him. “I just have a little rebellion in the ranks among my parishioners. Some of them don’t approve of what we’re doing. It’s gotten a little ugly, but I’ll get it straightened out.”

  “Ugly in what way?” Josh asked, trying to imagine why anyone would disapprove of building a home for someone in need.

  Caleb gave him a wry grin. “There’s a camp that thinks I ought to be run off for doing this for Amanda O’Leary. They’re very vocal.”

  Josh didn’t get it. He looked blankly from Caleb to Cord. “Okay, what am I missing here?”

  It was Caleb who responded. “I assume Cord filled you in on Amanda’s situation.”

  Cord nodded. “I know her husband was killed a while back.”

  “It was more than that,” Caleb said. “He’d gotten himself into serious debt and she was forced to declare bankruptcy. She’s been working two, sometimes three, jobs to try to pay off all the bills. She was about to be evicted from her apartment when we stepped in. At first we were just going to help out with the rent, which we did, but then someone had the idea to build her a house. Most of the congregation jumped on board, but a few people think we’ve picked the wrong person to help.”

  “Why?” Josh asked.

  “Because Amanda’s daddy is William Maxwell,” Cord explained. When Josh shook his head, Cord added, “Big Max is one of the wealthiest men in Charleston. Some folks think Big Max is the one who ought to be helping Amanda, not the church.”

  There was obviously still some critical piece of information that Josh was missing. If getting this woman a place to live were that simple, it would have been done long ago.

  “Why isn’t he?” Josh asked. “I assume there’s a reason.”

  “There’s a lot of bad blood between the two of them,” Cord
said succinctly.

  “That’s an understatement and it’s not without reason, at least on Amanda’s part,” Caleb said. “Since you’re involved in this now, you should know what’s going on. Here’s the short version. Big Max disowned Amanda when she got married. He didn’t approve of Bobby O’Leary. He dug in his heels. Amanda refused to cave in to his pressure, so he hasn’t had a thing to do with her for almost ten years now. He’s never even set eyes on his grandkids. I think he regrets all that now, but he’s too stubborn to fix it, and Amanda’s too hurt and has too much pride to turn to him now that she’s in trouble because of Bobby’s mistakes.”

  Josh got the picture. “But some folks think she should swallow her pride and go running to daddy now, instead of taking this opportunity away from some other family, one with no other resources.”

  “Exactly,” Caleb said.

  “I suppose I can see their point, but obviously she doesn’t think she can turn to her father or doesn’t want to after the way he treated her,” Josh said. “I can’t say I blame her.” He could empathize. Even if he discovered tomorrow that his father was rolling in dough, it would be a cold day in hell before he ever turned to the man for help, no matter how dire his own circumstances.

  “As far as Amanda’s concerned, her father burned that bridge,” Caleb said. “She won’t ask him for a dime. So as far as I’m concerned, she’s a struggling single mom who’s as deserving as anyone else. And she’s doing everything she can to get back on her feet. It’s not like she came looking for a handout. People just saw a need and wanted to help. She’s one of our own. We have an opportunity to help her and we’ll all get something out of doing it.”

  “So you want to go ahead, even though it’ll anger some members of your congregation?” Josh asked.

  “Absolutely,” Caleb responded without hesitation. “And it’s really only one member who’s dedicated himself to stirring the pot. He just happens to be wealthy and powerful in his own right. He could complicate things if he switches from talk to action.”