Breaking the Chain

167

               
             
             
             
             
             
1

             
"How's this?”
Jack asked as he struggled to balance his weight on the
rickety
la
dder. "You
need to
make up your mind quick
;
I don't think this ladder
will hold m
y weight
much longer."
             
Mary surveyed the swinging sign
. "
Move
it down just a little."
             
"You gotta be
joking
. A minute
ago,
you
wanted it raised. Now you want it down? Make up your mind woman; w
e've got a lot to do and
a short time
to do it in. Hanging a sign shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.
You pick a height, measure the links to make it go there
, and hang the blasted thing
.”
             
Her short laugh echoed in the stillness of the warm July afternoon. "
Sorry,
I
just
want everything to be perfect."
             
He was silent for a moment. "All right. I'll move it one more time, but that's it."
             
"Thanks.
Just
lower the chain in your left hand about a quarter of an inch and that should do it."
             
Without warning, the ladder teetered back and forth. Before Jack could stabilize his position, a loud crack filled the air; the
wooden
rungs
beneath
his feet splintered
, then broke away
.
             
"Shhhhhhiiiiiiiittttttttt..."
             
Mary
watched in horror as he
stayed
suspended at eye-level for an agonizing second, then plummeted to the ground.
             
"Oh my God," she cried. "Are you okay?"
             
Jack glared at her for
several moments. "Does it look like I'm okay?
”
             
She
swallowed her laughter and
extended a hand. "
Sorry, couldn’t help it.
"
Another giggle escaped as Jack scrambled to his feet.
             
Steel gray eyes narrowed.
             
Mary reached out to sweep
an errant lock of brown hair out of his eyes and patted the side of
Jack’s
face. "Come on, Jack. If it had been me, you know you would've laughed. Besides,
if you’d been hurt, I wouldn’t have laughed.
"
             
"I wouldn't have laughed."
             
She held up her hands and struggled to keep her voice devoid of humor. "
Right.
I
t’s not funny; I
was wrong to laugh. I apologize."
             
Jack’s response was cut off when
the forgotten sign plummeted to the ground, narrowly missing his head.
             
Unable to help herself,
Mary
burst out laughing
.
Slowly edging toward the door, s
he didn't dare look at Jack. He was mad enough already. Anything she could say would probably make matters worse.
             
"I think you better go inside, Mary," he warned. "Now."
             
Nodding, she pursed her lips, not trusting herself to speak. She was still chuckling when she reached the kitchen. Poor
Jack—today
just wasn't his day.
             
The icy blast of cold air that greeted her as she opened the freezer felt wonderful to her heat-parched skin. She stood in front of the open compartment
for a moment reveling in the cool breeze, then
fill
ed two glasses with ice and swung the door shut.

             
Thank goodness the work crew would be out tomorrow to finish installing the new central air conditioning unit. The heat both inside and outside the house had been almost unbearable, thanks to a broken air conditioning unit, high temperatures, and even higher humidity readings.
             
She grabbed a cold soda from the
r
efrigerator
and
headed for the
verandah. Jack stood on one of the dining room chairs, his back to her. The wooden sign dangled
ominously overhead
as he looped the chain onto a hook mounted in a beam above his head.
             
When he finished, she held the out the
cold drink
. "Peace offering?"
             
A
glimmer of a smile tugged at the corners of his
mouth
. "I guess it was pretty funny."
             
Remembering his awkward sprawl, her lips twitched with suppressed amusement. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, but I just couldn't help it. You should've seen the look on your face. It was priceless."
             
"Forget about it. I have." He draped one arm around her shoulders and planted a light kiss atop her gleaming red hair. "I
still
love you, Ms. Windom," he whispered.
             
She wrapped
her
arm around his waist. "I love you
, too
. It's like a dream come true. First marrying you, and then being able to own half of a bed and breakfast.
I still can't believe we talked my Aunt Elizavon into selling half her interest in this plantation.
The only thing left is to find Justine and Sadie, the old housekeepers. Their presence would make everything perfect. Justine would lend an air of grace and Sadie would be perfect as the
resident
Voodoo priestess."
             
"We'll find them; it's just going to take time."
             
"I know. Thanks for hanging the sign."
             
Steel fingers tightened their grip on her shoulder. "Before you say anything, I'm warning you that I'm not going to move that damn sign again.
Ever.
"
             
Her lips curved into a smile and she nestled closer. "It looks fine, Jack."
             
"Good. And don't try batting those green eyes at me, either. That sign's staying right where it is. Permanently. Don't even think about moving it."
             
She slipped out of his arm and stepped away from th
e porch. Shielding her eyes
, she surveyed the wooden sign, embellished with a blue moon hovering above a white plantation. "It does look good. That carpenter shop did a terrific job on the carving."
             
"Not bad. Not bad at all."
             
As she watched Jack pack his tools into a small metal chest, desire rushed through her veins. Tall, muscular, and handsome
,
he
embodied
everything she'd ever wanted
in a man
. She loved everything about him
—the
way his gray eyes twinkled whenever he was amused
,
to the errant lock of hair that kept falling into his eyes.
             
He glanced up and she felt her cheeks burn, embarrassed to have been caught gawking like
a
lovesick schoolgirl.
             
"Something wrong?"
             
"
Nope. Just
watching you pack your stuff," she mumbled. Trying to channel her thoughts to something other than sex, she turned to gaze at the beautiful oak trees
standing
like silent wooden sentries along either side of the
house.
Thick limbs
embellished with lush
green leaves stretched out in every direction like open arms, beckoning weary travelers to stop and rest in their cool shade. Under the trees, green grass, intertwined with small patches of sweet-smelling clover, covered the ground
in an
endless emerald carpet.
             
She turned back to Jack.
"I can't wait until our guests start coming in. They're going to love this place."
             
"Yeah, it's been a long time coming, but we're almost there."
He paused for a moment, then asked, “
Is Elizavon coming down for the grand opening?"
             
"
Unfortunately, yes
. I know
she makes you crazy, but
please be nice to her.
P
romise me you won't
let her
goad
you
into an argument."
             
He snorted in disgust. “
I just wish we could've afforded to buy her out. I hate having
that woman
as a partner. Maybe if I start doing some estate appraisal jobs on the side we can save enough money to pay her off."
             
"
W
e already travel way too much. How many weekends have you been home in the last two months? Three, four? My schedule's just as bad. I've done so many out-of-town estate
jobs
I feel like my butt is beginning to take on the shape of an airplane seat.
Any more side jobs and
the only time I'll get to see you is when we pass each other in
an
airport." She patted his shoulder. "We'll figure something out, but in the meantime, please be nice. And for goodness sake, don't call her Elizadragon. She'd have a stroke if she knew that's what you've nicknamed her."
             
Jack's frown curved into a malicious grin. "Well, if the forked tongue fits..."
             
"Jack! That's a terrible thing to say."
             
"Well, she does remind me of a Komodo dragon, devouring everybody and everything in her way. And, she's just as vicious."
             
With a fleeting expression of annoyance,
Mary
held up a warning hand. "
Enough,
Jack.
Y
ou've made your point. Come on. We've still got two rooms to paint. I want every detail finished before Aunt Elizavon gets here. She'll have a fit if everything isn't spit shined and polished to death."
             
"When's the unlucky
day?"
             
"The day after tomorrow. According to our last conversation, her plane is scheduled to land around six o'clock."
             
Damn! Two days of freedom left. He'd met Mary's aunt twice
;
both meetings had been nothing short of disastrous. He recalled china-doll blue eyes colder than Mt. Everest and a razor-sharp glance that cut straight to the bone. No surgeon's blade could have sliced through skin quicker or neater than Elizavon's piercing gaze. She'd sized him up in their first meeting, and he'd
been left with the uncharitable
feeling that he'd been found wanting.

             
After their introduction, h
e'd heard
the old woman’s
snort of derision, and
when
her pencil-thin lips stretched into a malicious smirk, he
knew
she'd intended him to hear it.
The worst part about it was th
at she’d managed to make him feel worthless w
ithout uttering a single word.

             
Well, that shriveled up old prune could look down her nose at him all she liked. He
was proud of everything he’d achieved both in his personal and professional life. Too bad Elizavon’s presence was bound to spoil what would otherwise be a huge celebration for him and Mary. Restoring a broken-down plantation home to a premiere bed and breakfast in a few short months was an accomplishment few could manage.

             
It dawned on him that an out-of-town assignment would be a godsend right now. Maybe he ought to give his boss a call....
Nah, Mary would kill him if he left before the grand opening.  He’d just have to grit his teeth and ignore the old bat’s verbal jabs—painful as that would be…