Page 17 of Moonshine and Magnolias (Just Add Peaches #1)

Rob’s smile changed, from teasing and playful to something more serious, and his eyes grew solemn. “Hard to believe these sweet little fruits have been the cause of so much trouble.” He took another bite, keeping his tablet clear of the juice.

“No trouble for me,” she answered, her voice tart.

He gave a shaded half-smile. “I imagine the IRS sniffed around here a lot, with your family being moonshiners and all.”

Not that she remembered hearing. “That’s something you’ll have to ask Aunt Eulalee.

The stories are very vague when it came to my family’s illicit activities.

It would have served them right if they got caught.

” That last bit slipped out before she could put a clamp on her personal opinion.

They were supposed to celebrate that history in front of guests.

It was too easy to be distracted by the delicious tension whenever Rob was near.

He put his tablet on the bench and shook his hand so the excess fruit juice dripped to the ground. “So you don’t approve of how they made their money. Even under the circumstances.”

The Clayton Prohibition story had been tweaked for audiences many time over the years, and she usually fell in with the party line.

But she didn’t want to lie to Rob, who knew more about it than the average guest. “I appreciate that they did what they needed to, and it was fine before it became illegal. But once the Prohibition amendment was ratified, they should have found another form of income. Instead, my family profited off the weaknesses of others.” She shook her head.

“Power, prestige, all because they made money. It makes for a nice, enthralling tale, and usually I impart the stories with a smile. So now you know the sordid truth. They were rule breakers. Don’t romanticize it. ”

Rob only nodded as he took another bite of his peach, his mouth twisting in a wry smile.

“You don’t agree?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t want to judge without knowing all the facts. I’m not saying your viewpoint isn’t valid. But I’d want the other side to have a chance to defend itself. Prohibition activities were sometimes kept secret, even between a man and his wife, brothers, cousins. Maybe your family didn’t know.”

“What, the money magically appeared in Mason jars hidden around the house?” Too bad that wasn’t true now. It would explain the source of the extra income she was still trying to find.

A beep sounded and she patted her pocket for her phone to turn it off. The rooms should have all been cleaned by now, but she still wanted to check Brandi’s work before she started her own afternoon schedule. Only her phone wasn’t the one making noise.

Rob leaned over to the tablet and turned off its timer. “I have to get cleaned up before Hal and I hit the town.”

“You set your alarm?” She hoped she kept the surprise and pleasure out of her voice.

“I thought I might get distracted going through the tour.” He flashed her a grin and she steeled herself against the awakened need inside her. “I was right.”

***

The parlor’s wide, comfortable sofas and cushy chairs beckoned to Rob to sit and relax, to let the ideas flow, to be creative for once instead of destructive.

He settled into a recliner facing the fireplace and put his spiral notebook over the arm of the chair.

The curtains had been raised to let in the morning light, giving the room a cheerful glow that would have been appealing to callers waiting for the lady of the house to be at home.

He opened the notebook and smoothed his hand down the lined page.

Louis Upshaw , he wrote across the top.

After that amazing beginning, the images and scenes and narrative plaguing him since he had read through the journals fled, leaving behind a cavern of nothingness.

This was stupid. Hal throws an off-hand comment about writing a book and suddenly that was where Rob’s energy accumulated?

He had a job to do. One he wanted done so he could maybe get to know Wendy outside the confines of his family history.

Rob’s attempt at telling her the truth two days ago, by bringing up her relatives and Prohibition, had ended in disaster.

She’d been gone most of yesterday so he regrouped and formed another plan of attack.

The parallels between her ancestors and his own illegal activity should have bolstered his cause instead of revealing her law-abiding opinion.

But was that what she really believed, or what she thought was appropriate.

He’d seen her dip into dreams, even when she tried to hide it.

They weren’t always the same as her reality.

He tapped the pencil’s eraser on the paper. If the notebook had been hard bound, he would have slammed it shut. As it was, the softer cardboard made a light slapping sound as it hit the paper under it.

His Histor y

Four words down. He could start thinking Pulitzer.

He stared out the window, seeing the open expanse of green lawn that led to the stables.

His uncle may have walked that same track, rode the horses, picked peaches.

Surely not all his time was spent foraging for the telltale odor of a still in the middle of Clayton’s land.

Had he visited the museums? Walked along Main Street?

A half-snort, half-snuffling noise sounded from behind him, followed by a soft exhale of breath.

Rob froze and listened, but nothing moved and he heard nothing else. He balanced the notebook on the arm of the recliner and stood up.

Sock-covered feet peeked out at him from the chaise lounge in the corner.

He stepped closer, following the feet up the body nestled deep in the cushions, the arms resting on a stomach, to the trail of drool oozing out of a man’s mouth.

Not a ghost, then. A guest? The grandmother, Casagnes and his entourage, and Rob and his brother were the only patrons here.

He couldn’t imagine the two large men or Wendy’s not-boyfriend being so blasé about their surroundings.

The man’s eyes were closed and he lay quiet and still and Rob hoped to God he was only sleeping and the sound he heard wasn’t a muted death throe.

Did his chest move at all under his crossed arms?

Rob inched closer. When the man flung a hand out, his motion was stopped by the raised armrest, but he hit the baseball cap resting on the side and it went sailing across the room.

Rob jumped out of the way and banged into a chair.

“Eulalee?” the man mumbled as he sat up. “What was that?”

“Ah, no, sir.” Rob would have remembered seeing him around Fountenoy Hall, with his worn skin and graying hair. “Robert Upshaw.”

He blinked at Rob with a dull stare until his consciousness caught up to his brain. “Mac Selznick. I’m the produce guy.”

Okay, but that didn’t explain his current position slumping in the parlor. “Should I get Ms. Eulalee for you?”

“She knows I’m here. I’m biding time until she finishes up with the peaches.

” He rubbed his eyes and nudged a canvas bag on the floor with his socked foot.

Yarn poked out of the top along with several pairs of knitting needles.

“She’s helping me knit. I hope to have my first sweater done in time for Chanukah. ”

“A reachable goal, since it’s barely June.”

Mac shifted to the end of the lounge and held up the orange and red monstrosity.

One arm was two feet too long and the other barely there, and the waist looked big enough to keep all the Maccabees warm for much longer than the celebrated eight nights.

“I wanted it done last December, but I’ve had to adjust. Miss Eulalee said she’d give me a hand this time around. ”

He’d need all the help he could get. “Well, good luck to you.”

Wendy entered the parlor carrying a glass of ice and pitcher filled with a deep gold liquid. She stopped upon seeing Rob and gave him a fleeting smile before turning her attention to the old man.

“Mr. Selznick, my aunt asked me to bring you this iced tea.” She placed it on the small table next to him. “She said she’ll be ready in two shakes.”

“Thank you, Wendy.”

She gave a nod, then looked at Rob.

He waited for her to speak. It was her turn, after all.

“What are you doing, Dr. Upshaw?”

That’s all she had? “I’ve finished going through the journals for the tour, Boss.”

“That’s fantastic. Do you have everything you need?”

“I have notes on all the relevant passages.” He reached for the notebook to keep his eyes from trailing over her body, cursing the damn boundaries she made clear when he wanted to kiss her in the library. And again in the orchard. “Putting the final touches on now.”

To his surprise, she sat on the couch and crossed one toned leg over the other. “On paper? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you without your tablet.”

“There’s something old fashioned about using a pencil that puts me in a more historical frame of mind.” He ran his hand along the thighs of his jeans and sat next to her. Might as well see what she was up to. “I’ve never seen you without your phone.”

She took it out of her skirt pocket. “This ol’ thing?” She put it squarely in the center of the side table. “There. Now you have.”

He shook his head. “Still within reach.” Ignoring every part of him that screamed not to, he leaned across her.

She smelled even better up close, with the faint hint of shampoo wafting from her hair under the scent of peaches. Her breath hit his neck and his body hardened at the sensation. He scooped her phone off the table and put it on the one next to him. “There.”

She settled back on the sofa, the picture of casual relaxation, belied by her slightly reddened cheeks. “I have a reminder set for when I need to go back to work.”

He gave a huff of laughter. “Aren’t you always at work?”

“Hard not to be when you live where you get your paycheck.”

“What’s that like?”