Читать книгу Sweetheart Bride - Lenora Worth, Rachel Hauck - Страница 13

Chapter Five

Brenna sat watching the people of Fleur as they filed into the bright church hall one by one. Of course, Winnie had sent cookies to go with the urn of coffee. Refreshments were always a requirement here in this big, loud room. The Fleur Café, right across the street, was happy to provide them.

Good thing she brought extra. Tonight the main attraction had drawn a record crowd. Whenever a stranger came to town and wanted a meeting, people came to listen. Especially people who were unemployed or late with last month’s mortgage. Especially people who already had two and sometimes three jobs but could never rest because their families needed food and shelter. Not that Nick came bearing jobs or solutions, but he was here on a positive note. He was taking something they all treasured and admired and making it beautiful again.

A restoration.

Brenna let that thought rush through her like sparkling water as she scanned the crowd. Nick wasn’t here yet. Why was she so nervous, so hopeful for this man? What had he done to her to make her see beneath that facade of cool and calm he cloaked around himself?

“Make it beautiful for me.”

His words echoed over the boisterous gathering, haunting her with a sweet intensity.

Did Nick create and re-create lovely aesthetic things because he needed to make the world more beautiful? For someone he loved? Or maybe for someone he’d lost? Was that why he traveled so light and lingered only as long as required? She thought about the young girl in the portrait she’d seen on the internet. What did Jessica mean to him? Was she a friend? Or someone he’d loved and lost?

Dear Lord, help me to understand this man. Help me to restore his soul to You.

The plea of that prayer poured over her as people gathered for the meeting. And somehow, Brenna knew that would be the echo she’d hear in her head each time she was around Nick Santiago.

For now, she smiled and waved to the full house. She spotted Julien’s younger brother, Pierre, along with his girlfriend, Mollie. They were so cute together. Since Julien and Alma had gotten back together, the Blanchard family had embraced Julien’s family, welcoming his mother and his brother as their own. Her father came through the door, Mrs. LeBlanc walking with him. It was funny how several of the widows in the church seemed to be always after her daddy. But Julien’s mother was just a friend. She had made it clear after her husband died almost two years ago she would never fall in love again.

Maybe Nick had made that same pledge, Brenna thought as she surveyed the crowd.

Callie came in and waved, then slid into a seat up front.

Brenna walked over to her sister and dropped her briefcase on the floor. “He’s not here yet.”

“I’m sure he’s on his way,” Callie said. “Hey, I got a call from Alma. They are having so much fun. The ocean, the beach, the shops, the honeymoon. She might not ever come home from Florida.”

“She’s in love,” Brenna said, glad for her sister. “Did you tell her about Fleur House?”

Callie giggled. “Yes, I told her all about your new love interest Nick Santiago, which is what you’re really asking.”

“I am not. What did she say?”

“She said good for you. On the job...and the man.”

“She’s in love. She can be optimistic.”

“Yeah, that’s true. We, on the other hand, are more cynical. So we have to be cautious.”

Brenna nodded at that, as sad as it sounded. But when she turned and saw Nick strolling in as if he owned the place, his suit tailored and fitted, his hair combed and shimmering, she wanted to throw caution to the wind. Her heart actually did a backward flip.

Frances LaBorde, a staunch church lady and one to always notice everything going on around here, leaned up and touched Brenna on the arm. “He’s mighty perty, ain’t he?” She winked at Brenna, then settled back with a look of delight on her puffy cheeks.

“Yes, he sure is,” Callie whispered to Brenna. “If you don’t go for him, I just might have to.”

“Go ahead,” Brenna said, inhaling a deep breath. “Ours is a working relationship.” She ignored the little green monsters of jealousy laughing in her head.

“Yeah, and we all believe that,” Callie retorted. “I was just teasing about my going after him. But the way he looks at you, I think you have a definite shot.”

* * *

Nick surveyed the crowd. The tough crowd. He hadn’t expected this many people to show up. But this was a small town with a big grapevine. No need for online networking here. This network moved through clotheslines and crab traps and church prayer chains.

He was a stranger in a strange land.

Then he looked up and saw Brenna sitting there on the front row, prim and proper and prepared, wearing a pretty spring dress and cute little blue sweater. She gave him an encouraging, questioning smile.

Showtime.

“Hello, everyone,” he said in a loud calm voice.

The whispers died down as people settled into their seats.

Nick took a breath. “I’m Nick Santiago. I’ve been here for a while, but I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to talk to very many of you. I’m supervising the renovation of the Dubois mansion, locally known as Fleur House.”

Applause followed that introduction. Nick grinned at that.

“I wanted to let you know what this means for your community.”

“Yeah, what does it mean?” came a shout from the back.

“Jobs?” someone else asked.

The conversations started up again, a mixture of English and Cajun-French that turned into chaos. Nick tried raising his hand, but they were off and running, taking his initial explanations and creating little detours that rippled like a swamp wake.

“Excuse me!”

Nick watched as Brenna stood up and clapped her hands.

“Mr. Santiago is doing us a favor by bringing us here tonight. Let’s show him that famous Fleur hospitality by listening, please. He’ll be glad to answer any questions when he’s finished.”

The room went quiet.

Nick gave Brenna a grateful glance, then started again.

“Last spring, my client bought Fleur House and the surrounding gardens. Because I’m an architect and on retainer for this particular client, he commissioned me to oversee the renovations. I’ve been here a few weeks now, and I’ve seen some of you riding by the house. I know you’re wondering who this man is and what’s going on with all the construction.”

He took a breath and drank a sip of water from the cup Brenna had put on a table. “I can’t tell you who the owner is yet. He’s a very private man with a very public obligation. But I can tell you about me. I grew up in San Antonio, Texas. My parents still live there.” He stopped, glanced at Brenna, prayed she wouldn’t see his doubts. “I’ve always loved old buildings. That is my specialty, restoring old neglected places and making them new again.”

“We’re glad to have you.”

Nick nodded at the robust man who’d shouted that out. “And I’m glad to be here. So we will get serious about putting the final touches on the house now that the toughest parts of the renovation are finished. I’ve hired Brenna Blanchard to oversee some of the decor for the house, mainly the artwork. My client loves art and buys several pieces a year. Brenna will pick some of the main pieces for the house.” He glanced at Brenna and smiled. “She is highly qualified.”

“And she’s an artist, too,” someone called out.

Surprised, Nick took another sip of water. “Really? She left that off her résumé.”

While Brenna shifted in her seat and looked down, another person said, “She don’t like to brag.”

Everyone laughed at that. But Nick made a note to ask Brenna about her hidden talent. Was it coincidence that she was also an artist? Did he dare tell her he used to paint? That was a lifetime ago. It didn’t matter much now.

“So, what other talents do we have in this room? We’re a little behind on the renovations, so I need some extra hands. I’ll need some extra construction workers—both experienced and nonexperienced. I’ll need a couple more electricians and plumbers, and journeymen to add to my team. I’ll need a qualified house inspector. I have a list of positions here on the table. Please feel free to take the information. Even though I have a team from Texas, I’ll still need a lot of locals to help. I’ll be back here tomorrow at noon to accept applications. Mainly, I’m here to make Fleur House fresh and new again so that we can show it off to the community and to tourists and visitors, too.”

Everyone clapped, then Brenna stood up. “Now, if you have any questions—”

* * *

An hour later, Brenna shooed the last person out the door, then turned to Nick. “Welcome to Fleur.”

He ran a hand over his hair and laughed. “I’m exhausted.”

He did look adorably exhausted. She had to keep her fingers from brushing through his dark hair. “And hungry, I imagine.”

“Yes, I am.” He started gathering his notes and shoved them into his briefcase. “I didn’t realize that until now, however.”

Brenna waffled like a frog on a vine, then finally turned to him. “You’re invited to my daddy’s house for chicken perlo. It’s my mama’s recipe, but Papa has perfected it. It’s always good on a crisp fall night.”

“That sounds great.” He touched her midback and guided her toward the door. “How did I do?”

Brenna didn’t have to hide her reaction to that. “You were great. I had no idea you’d be able to offer people jobs. I guess I never asked.”

She’d been too concerned about herself even to think of that. Once she’d been hired, she did her usual thing. She began to obsess about being perfect.

He gave her an indulgent smile. “I have my own crew, but we always try to hire locals and now that we’re down to the wire, it makes sense. I should have explained that to you.”

Interesting. “So you do this a lot. Find a house, renovate it and move on?”

“Sí. That’s my job. My client keeps me busy year-round. He’s mostly into industrial real estate, but he sometimes buys estates and renovates them. He’s bought and sold some incredible homes.”

More and more information. But she wanted to know more about Nick right now. “Is he your main employer?”

Nick held the door for her. Outside, the fall night held a hint of winter. While the winters here were mild, it was beginning to be chilly enough to wear a light jacket.

Brenna only had a light sweater. She shivered.

“I work for several different people, but mostly for him, sí.”

And that was the end of that.

She shivered again. Then she felt Nick’s hands on her arms, felt the warmth of his soft wool suit jacket enveloping her shoulders. “You’re cold.”

And you are seriously...hot.

Brenna reeled in her treacherous reaction, the scent of soap and spice all around her. “Thank you. I have to remember to unpack my winter clothes.”

“Do you need a ride?” he asked. Then he motioned to his car. Only she’d never seen a car like this one.

“What...what is that exactly?”

He grinned like a schoolboy. “That is a vintage 1969 GTO convertible with four-on-the-floor and a 400 horsepower engine with a turbo transmission.”

Brenna looked at the baby blue automobile, then back at him. “A muscle car? You drive a muscle car?”

He looked surprised. “You know about muscle cars?”

“I’ve heard my papa and Julien and his brother, Pierre, talking about them, usually when they’re watching a race on television. And now I’ve actually seen one.”

He took her by the arm. “Not only seen one, but get to ride in one.”

Brenna glanced around, then realized her father had left her! “I guess I do. I came with my daddy, but apparently both he and my sister forgot about me.” On purpose, no doubt.

“Not a problem,” he said, hurrying around to open the passenger-side door for her. “I would get lost without you.”

Did the man realize he had a way with words? Did he even know that the way he said things with that exquisite hint of an accent went right to a woman’s heart?

She could speak one thing and mean another, too. “I don’t want you to get lost.”

His dark eyes gleamed like midnight water. “Then let’s go.

“Top down?”

She nodded. She needed the cold wind to make her snap out of this massive crush.

With that, he got in and cranked the motor. The car purred like a great cat. Nick shifted gears and Brenna held on for dear life, her breath caught in the cool night air. This man with all his fancy things had first reminded her of Jeffrey. But Nick Santiago was nothing like her shallow, self-centered, very ex-fiancé. As Callie had said, he seemed to be the real thing.

At least he felt real, driving this powerful machine, his hands only inches away from her. Brenna tried to focus on breathing. He was too close, way too close.

“Where am I going?” he asked.

Brenna came out of the fog surrounding her mind. “Oh, take a left at the next traffic light. Our house is a few miles out of town, on the Big Fleur Bayou. When you see the sign for Blanchard’s Landing, you’re there.”

“What is chicken perlo?” he asked, grinning over at her.

“Well, it’s chicken and rice and spices and we serve it with corn bread and biscuits, all homemade. It’s usually cooked in a big iron pot.”

He hit a hand on the steering wheel. “The food down here is so good.”

Brenna couldn’t deny that. “But I’ve been to San Antonio. The food there is wonderful, too.”

“Yes, and my mom is a good cook.”

She wanted to know all about his family. “So you’re an only child?”

He slowed the car as they reached the sign she’d mentioned, then turned into the next driveway.

“Yes.” He parked the car in the long driveway leading to the white cottage and stared into the darkness. “I have been for a long time now. But I had a sister. She died when I was a teenager.”