Читать книгу At First Sight - Tamara Sneed - Страница 10

For one glorious moment when Charlie woke up, she thought she was back in her apartment in Los Angeles. She smiled and stretched her arms over her head. She couldn’t wait to walk to the deli down the street. She loved the tuna sandwiches there, and the canolis. Delicious cream bursting from the delicate shell, all covered in gooey chocolate. Her mouth watered just thinking about it.

Then she felt her sweat-soaked nightgown plastered against her skin. Something else was wrong…. That smell. Usually, she got the ocean breeze, but now all she smelled was dust and…and fresh, country air. Country. Charlie gasped and opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was a large brown water stain at the corner of the white ceiling. And then she heard the sound of glass breaking followed by Kendra shrilly berating Quinn.

Charlie placed an arm over her eyes, as it all came rushing back. The long drive to Sibleyville, Kendra and Quinn and—even worse—the gorgeous cowboy. It hadn’t been a nightmare. Charlie seriously contemplated remaining in her bed for the rest of the two weeks, but she suddenly noticed the bedspring poking into her back and rolled out. Her feet hit the hardwood floor and the dust that lay on the floor like a carpet billowed around her.

Charlie glanced around the bedroom that she had been given by default last night. Quinn and Kendra had both claimed larger—and coincidentally cleaner—bedrooms upstairs. Charlie had been stuck with the only bedroom on the ground floor. It had one squeaking bed, an antique dresser with a cracked mirror and a window that was covered with a faded, daisy-covered sheet. She shuddered in disgust at the filth in the room. The night before, she had willed herself not to notice the dirt and had simply unrolled a sleeping bag on top of the bed and climbed in. But, now, in the sunlight that streamed unimpeded through the sheet, she saw everything. Goosebumps raised on her skin. She could not believe that she had slept in this room. It was disgusting.

Charlie heard more screaming in the kitchen. She slipped her bare feet into her tennis shoes and stood up from the bed, groaning at the protesting ache in her back. She wiped the sleep from her eyes then shuffled down the hallway into the living room.

She could hear chaos behind the door to the kitchen. Since she couldn’t avoid her sisters forever, Charlie took a deep breath and pushed open the swinging kitchen door.

Black smoke was curling out of the brand-new silver toaster on the counter that Charlie had brought from home. Quinn stood in a sheer white minidress with her arms crossed, glaring at Kendra, who wore skin-tight, black workout pants and a black sports bra. Both of her sisters looked showered and refreshed, and Charlie reminded herself to check their bathroom first.

“What in the world is going on?” Her sisters turned to her and both began speaking at once. Charlie instantly held up her hands for silence. Surprisingly, Quinn and Kendra both fell silent. “First, I need coffee. And, second, I need to find the closest Wal-Mart so we can start disinfecting this place.”

“Wal-Mart?” Kendra gasped in horror at the same time that Quinn whispered in dismay, “Disinfecting?”

“If we’re lucky,” Charlie muttered. “There may not be a Wal-Mart around here, which is great for the local small businesses, but very bad for us.”

Charlie shuffled to the coffeemaker that she had also brought from home. Kendra wordlessly handed her a coffee cup with the name of her alma mater, Harvard, emblazoned on the side. Charlie smiled gratefully then filled the mug with the steaming liquid. She usually liberally sprinkled sugar into her coffee, but since she knew neither of her sisters would think to pack something as caloric as sugar, she just gulped it down and cringed.

“You’re not actually expecting us to clean this place, are you, Charlie?” Quinn asked, nervously. “We don’t have the skills for this—”

“Skills,” Kendra snorted. “We’re just cleaning, Quinn, not launching a space shuttle.”

“But, there could be rodents or something,” Quinn said, with wide eyes. She rubbed the back of her neck, as if brushing something off her skin. “Can’t we hire someone to do this?”

“I hate to admit this, but I actually agree with Bimbette here,” Kendra said to Charlie. Ignoring Quinn’s glare, she continued, “We need this entire house cleaned from top to bottom, and I’d rather not get buried alive if it collapses, so we need to have someone secure the frame and foundation. And then I need to contact the office—”

Charlie interrupted her, “We’re not allowed to use our personal bank accounts, call friends or boyfriends, or to work—”

Kendra’s eyes turned cold, and Charlie fought to hold her gaze. Kendra could be intimidating when she wanted to be, and she usually wanted to be. “You don’t seriously expect us to live by the draconian conditions of the will?”

“We agreed,” Charlie replied, simply.

“I can’t disappear from my job for two weeks, Charlie,” Kendra snarled.

“Then you shouldn’t have agreed to come,” Charlie said, quietly. She focused on the dust bunnies in the corners of the room and said, “If we’re going to live here for the next two weeks, we need to clean this house. We also need food, besides coffee.”

“I should have known you would be Ms. Rules,” Kendra said in a tone that told Charlie she was not complimenting her.

“Stop being a baby, Kendra,” Quinn finally chimed in. “Charlie’s right. We agreed to do this Grandpa’s way. And that means no cleaning ladies, no Internet and no contact with our real lives. No one in our lives or in this town is supposed to know the reason we’re here. And, considering the fact that this town benefits if we fail, we should definitely stick to the strict-confidence policy.”

Charlie stared at Quinn surprised. She had never heard Quinn sound so forceful or serious. Then Quinn added, with a giggle, “Besides, how will I be able to ask the cowboy to show me his barn if I’m stuck out here?”

Charlie choked on her coffee, but neither woman noticed as they squared off like two old-time cowboys.

“He’s mine, Quinn. I saw him first,” Kendra retorted angrily.

“Whoever saw him first won’t matter once I work the Quinn Sibley magic on him,” Quinn challenged.

Kendra laughed, while Charlie finally was able to swallow unimpeded. Kendra crossed the kitchen to stand in front of Quinn.

“Are you actually considering going head-to-head with me on the cowboy?” Kendra asked Quinn, one finely arched eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“If you’re not too scared to go head-to-head with me,” Quinn responded, mirroring Kendra’s expression.

Kendra shook her head, obviously amused. “Well, this should add some excitement to our time here. You’re on, Quinn. We both go for the cowboy and he decides.”

“He has a name,” Charlie blurted out, before she could stop herself. Her sisters turned to her and Charlie averted her gaze when she saw their identical curious expressions. She poured herself another cup of coffee, hoping her sisters didn’t notice her trembling hands. “I just… You’re both being childish. He’s not some toy or a— He’s a person.”

Kendra tilted her head to one side and studied Charlie. “You can try for Graham, too, Charlie,” she finally said, placing emphasis on his name.

Charlie felt her face burn in embarrassment, while Quinn grinned and bobbed her head excitedly. Charlie had spent most of the previous sleepless night dreaming about Graham. She still wanted to tie him to a bed and just look at him for an hour, but now it seemed gross that that Kendra and Quinn obviously had the same feelings.

Charlie squared her shoulders and said, “I won’t try for him, like he’s some kind of…of carnival prize.”

Kendra shrugged then said, “All right, but I don’t want to hear your mouth. There was nothing in Max’s will about not trying to make things a little exciting around here. Give me a few minutes and we’ll head into town and find something to clean the house with.”

Quinn looked down at her spotless white dress then back at Charlie. “I’m going to get really dirty today, aren’t I?”

Charlie ignored Quinn and looked down at her nightgown. She needed to shower, brush her teeth and get dressed, but then there was her refusal to share the shower with the fungus growing at the bottom.

“You’re right, Quinn. We’re going to get really dirty, so there’s hardly any use changing clothes,” Charlie said, with a relieved sigh.

She had been saved once more.

It was one of those perfect summer days that only exist in Smalltown, U.S.A. Cloudless blue skies, birds chirping in the distance, children running down the sidewalks and young men standing at the town water fountain watching young women walk past. If Graham wasn’t dead-set on leaving all of it as soon as possible, he would be appreciating this scene right now.

Instead, Graham ignored the scene around him and steered his truck to a stop in front of the town’s all-purpose store. One thing that Graham could admit to feeling grateful about was that there was always convenient parking downtown. He got out of the truck then slapped on a pair of headphones. The soothing sound of a cultured voice speaking Japanese filled his ears.

His Japanese had gotten rusty in the six months he had spent in Sibleyville. He had never been that good to begin with, but if there was one thing Graham could say about Sibleyville, the small-town afforded him plenty of time to practice, when he wasn’t working.

“Afternoon, Graham,” Velma called out from the entrance of her clothing boutique.

“Konnichiwa,” Graham greeted in return, with a slight bow.

“Ogenki-desu-ka?” Velma returned.

Graham stopped in mid-stride, took off the headphones and gaped at the older woman. Velma speaking Japanese was about as likely as…as Graham speaking Japanese.

Velma winked at him then turned back into her boutique. Graham laughed to himself and shook his head.

“Don’t you have anything better to do, besides stand in the middle of the street, grinning like a fool?”

Graham grinned at the sound of Wyatt Granger’s voice. Graham had known Wyatt almost as long as he had known himself. Their families had been the only black people in Sibleyville, when the two had been growing up. And it had remained that way until the arrival of the Sibley sisters, who had increased the African-American population in town by a full thirty percent.

“What are you doing out and about? Business slow as usual at the funeral home?” Graham asked then winced when he noticed Wyatt’s honey-brown skin turn a light shade of gray at the mention of anything related to his family’s funeral parlor.

The Grangers had been Sibleyville’s only morticians for the last three generations, and Graham had a feeling that Wyatt would have put an end to the family business if he could have. But Wyatt’s father had died five years ago, and his mother had never recovered from her husband’s death, which had left Wyatt to continue the family business.

“No one has died in Sibleyville since Ted Gravis. Business is slow,” Wyatt replied.

“I hear Ron Walker had a severe case of heartburn last night,” Charlie said then winced again when Wyatt narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m just trying to help you out.”

“That’s real funny, Graham,” Wyatt responded dryly.

“I just don’t want you to pass out again when someone asks you about the embalming process.”

Wyatt’s jaw twitched before he protested through clenched teeth, “I did not pass out. I told you, I just hadn’t had a lot to eat that night and my blood sugar was low and then the heat—”

Graham patted Wyatt on the shoulder and said, somberly, “Your secret is safe with me, Wyatt.”

“What secret?”

Graham hid his smile and changed the subject, “Do you want to grab some lunch? I’m supposed to be getting wood to fix a fence on the east end, but a man has to eat, right?”

Wyatt smiled instantly and said, “It’s Thursday, and you know what that means, right?”

“No.”

“Pot roast at Annie’s.” Wyatt’s wide grin made Graham shake his head with regret.

He didn’t know which was more pathetic: the fact that he was probably just as excited as Wyatt was at the idea of forking down some of the delicious pot roast at the diner in town, or that this time last year, he had been eating in some of the best restaurants in Tokyo, ordering caviar, champagne and other delicacies.

“Pot roast, it is,” Graham said, with a resigned sigh.

The two men started the short walk towards the diner on the other end of Main Street.

Graham nodded in greeting at other residents they passed on the sidewalk, while Wyatt was glad to shake everyone’s hand and have boring conversations about the weather and the predictions for the fall harvest. A few minutes later, the two men settled in their regular corner booth at Annie’s, where the eponymous Annie was taking orders from another table. Annie’s husband stood over the grill visible through the open window behind the counter.

“I heard you met the Sibley sisters,” Wyatt said, while passing Graham one of the plastic menus on the table. “What are they like? No one around here has seen them yet.”

“I just met them. Did a carrier pigeon spread the word?” Wyatt shrugged, noncommitally. “Hey, what do you expect? This is Sibleyville. So, tell me about them. Please let one—at least one—be somewhat decent-looking. The pickings around here have gotten pretty slim since the Hodgkin girls moved back to Oregon.”

“The Hodgkin girls are forty-three and forty-four years old, respectively,” Graham deadpanned.

Wyatt shrugged again. “I take what I can get.”

Graham rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Why do you stay, Wyatt?”

“It’s my home.” Graham stared speechlessly at Wyatt: to him it was really that simple. To Graham, nothing was that simple. “So, you haven’t told me about the Sibley sisters, which must mean they’re as ugly as a pimple on a horse’s butt.”

“Not quite,” Graham said, smiling.

In fact, there was nothing remotely ugly about any of the sisters. Quinn had marvelous breasts that would make a grown man weep, Kendra had a body that could make a grown man beg and then… Well, and then there was the third sister. Whatever her name was—he couldn’t even remember now. She had… Graham couldn’t really remember what she had because he had been so transfixed by Quinn’s breasts and Kendra’s rock-hard body.

“You’re smiling,” Wyatt noted. “That’s a good thing. Please tell me that’s a good thing.”

“Let’s just say you won’t be disappointed.”

Wyatt grinned then prodded, “Tell me more. Details. Stats.”

“Words don’t do them justice. Two of them, at least. Probably about thirty years old and twenty-six years old. Then there’s the third sister. She’s the middle one. She’s different, I think—”

“Different how?” Wyatt demanded, sounding worried again.

“She’s not like her sisters. She’s…different.” The look of distaste that had crossed her expression as she had glared at him floated through his mind again. He abruptly smiled and said, “She kind of reminds me of Mrs. Smythe.”

“Our fourth-grade teacher you had a crush on?”

Graham frowned at his friend. “I did not have a crush on Mrs. Smythe.”

“Do not try to stick me with that one,” Wyatt said, cringing in distaste, ignoring Graham’s annoyance. “I always get stuck with the plain ones.”

“I did not have a crush on Mrs. Smythe,” Graham repeated to make certain Wyatt heard him. When Wyatt only shrugged in response, Graham muttered, “Don’t worry. Her sisters more than make up for her.”

“Did you get anything out of them about why they’re here?”

“I didn’t ask. As the saying goes, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Wyatt’s grin nearly spilt his face. “That good, huh?”

Graham remembered the come-hither look in Kendra’s eyes as she had grinned at him. “Better.”

Wyatt whooped like the cowboy he sort of was, then laughed as the other diners glanced curiously at them. Wyatt waved at them then turned back to Graham.

Graham laughed then added, “Besides, Boyd thinks they’re here to settle their grandfather’s business with the town. He has ordered each of us on the city council to roll out the red carpet. Butter them up. I initially thought this whole thing would be another one of Boyd’s idiotic ideas, but the more I think about it…and them…the more I think he might not be so dumb.”

“About rolling out the red carpet, or about their reason for being in town?”

“The red carpet, Wyatt,” Graham said, impatiently. “I don’t care about their plans for this town.”

“So, when are we going out with them?” Wyatt asked, eagerly.

“Out? Out where?” Graham asked, frustrated. “Maybe the hoedown next week or the next four-wheel-drive tailgate at the lake?”

“Yeah,” Wyatt said excitedly, obviously missing Graham’s sarcasm.

Graham rolled his eyes, annoyed. “Wyatt, these women… These women are not like the women around here. We can’t take them to a hoedown. They’re used to lobster and champagne, not hot dogs and beer.”

Wyatt’s grin disappeared before he said, matter-of-factly, “Well, while you’re trying to find five-star restaurants and champagne, someone else in this town is going to invite them to that hoedown or a tailgate, because what you seem to be forgetting, my friend, is that regardless of what these women are used to, they’re in Sibleyville now.”

Graham mulled over his friend’s words then muttered, reluctantly, “I guess I’ll be stopping by their house to invite them for a night of Sibleyville revelry.”

Wyatt smiled, satisfied, then signaled to Annie that they were ready to order.