Page 7 of Moonshine and Magnolias (Just Add Peaches #1)

After chastising herself for her behavior with the resident doctor—which, okay, was fun, even if she couldn’t say it out loud—Wendy almost welcomed the need to enter the office.

She shuffled along the hardwood floor, her pace slowing as she approached the vacant room.

The Fountenoy Hall master ring was cold in her hand and she sifted through the keys so she didn’t have to think about what lay beyond the door.

She had managed to avoid it before by asking her mom to bring her what she needed, like the ledger and other papers.

If she did that again, her mom would start making sympathetic gestures.

Going into the office would prove she didn’t need that kind of comfort.

What had Dr. Rob Upshaw been thinking, flirting with her like that?

Her crack about dessert had made him glow with the kind of desire she saw directed at her cousin.

Never at her. Which reminded her. Brandi still had to come downstairs for the vendor list. Sending the text wasn’t procrastination, it was something that had to be done.

And now it had been a whole twenty minutes since she checked her Steward Hotels email.

Her team might have sent a question. The lingering memories behind the wooden door could wait.

She leaned against the wall, entering brief replies to the ten emails that had accumulated in that time. When the indicator said zero new messages, she let out a slow, steady breath.

Okay. The office. Nothing special about it at all. Just another room.

Step one: get the stack of letters and anything else she needed. Step two: Leave the office and don’t look back. In and out in less than a minute. It didn’t matter whether she did the work in there or on her bed or in the library.

It would be nice to blame the rolling in her stomach on the sweet peach jelly filling from her breakfast pastry she finally snagged, but she couldn’t lie to herself. She needed to brace herself before stepping through the doorway.

The furniture didn’t have thoughts. The curtains couldn’t embrace her. The boxes stacked on the floor didn’t hold memories. It was just a room.

Tears that had been lurking since the funeral leaked out and slid down her cheeks.

It was so much more. This was where Grandma spent her time and energy, her soul, to run Fountenoy Hall.

Where she signed paychecks and wrote up menus and made reservations for brides and grooms. Wendy angled her head to wipe the inconvenient wetness away with her shoulder.

Without giving herself a chance to think, she unlocked the thick wooden door and pushed it open.

Light filtered in through the window’s cheerful cherry-patterned curtains and reflected on the filing cabinets and dust particles dancing in the air.

Traces of Grandma’s baby-powder scent surrounded Wendy like an embrace, and she wrapped her arms around her body to hold onto it.

The barrier of unwelcome emotions kept her feet from crossing the threshold.

“I can do this.” She pressed her hand to the light switch on the wall, flipped it on. And remained in dim shadows. That reality took a moment to set in. “Seriously?” She flicked the switch a few more times in rapid succession with the same lack of results.

She needed a new bulb.

And a ladder. And a cousin who was eager to learn. And some ice cream. Chocolate. With marshmallows and fudge sauce and nuts.

And her grandma.

A fresh ache grew in her chest and sobs built in her throat. If she gave in to them, she’d never recover, and her aunt or the Upshaws or her cousin would find a quivering, blubbering, useless lump of Wendy on the hallway floor.

The thought of Dr. Upshaw finding her that way, vulnerable and with her soul bared, had her shoving the pain into the recesses of her mind.

She wouldn’t be able to handle the compassion she knew would show on his face.

She’d deal with the feelings later. Much later.

Like when she was back in Atlanta. If then.

The suppression should have been second nature to her by now, but her emotions fought to be recognized. It was her own fault for letting them take hold for too long. She held still, waging a silent battle until she shoved the melancholia away.

Okay. Focus. She needed a ladder. Since Brandi was on her way here, she could bring it with her.

Wendy sent another text to her cousin. Lightbulbs were in the office closet.

Enough light shone in through the windows, so navigation wasn’t a problem.

She zigged her way through the filing cabinets and storage boxes to the supply closet.

She didn’t look at the desk.

Once the bulb had been located and she was back in the hallway, she was about to send a message to her cousin that she’d go to the basement herself when Brandi arrived, lugging the ladder with her. “I was on my way here and your text made me turn around. So don’t blame me if I’m late.”

“Thank you.” Wendy took it from her and slid it through the office door. “I’ll put it away when I’m done. Do you want to go over the vendor lists now?”

“Now’s fine. Why are we in the dark?”

Wendy waved the lightbulb. “Where’s your computer?”

“In my room. Do I need it?”

Wendy bit the inside of her cheek as a less extreme option than pulling out her own hair. “We have a shared drive where all the pertinent files are located. I need to show you how to get there.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Wendy bit a little harder and stopped her fingers from grasping her ponytail .

“If I’m going upstairs, I’m going to shower before I come down again. I got all dusty in the basement.” She brushed a particle of dirt off her sleeve.

“If I’m not here, look for me in the library or kitchen.” Wendy let out a quick breath, then proceeded to clear a space under the light fixture.

***

The unexpected sight of Wendy’s round ass waving in the air sent searing heat straight to Rob’s gut. Her straight black skirt accentuated the curve and the muscled tone of her legs as she moved boxes on the office floor.

He fished out an antacid from the roll that was his constant companion, ignoring the lead that balled in his stomach.

She was a means to an end, no matter how her soft gaze beckoned to him in the peach orchard.

She had been so cool and reserved earlier, she probably hadn’t even been aware of her rebellious eyes.

She straightened, then turned and reached for the ladder before she noticed him standing in the doorway. “Dr. Upshaw! What can I do for you?”

“Need any help?”

She shook her head, her long ponytail swaying with the movement. “Isn’t that right sweet of you to ask. I’m sure I can change a lightbulb by myself.”

“I’ll wait until you’re done, then. I have some questions.

” He stepped behind the antique walnut desk before she could tell him to go away.

It gave him the opportunity to study his surroundings and sneak a glimpse at the papers covering its top.

Not that he expected to find a map with arrows pointing to his uncle’s treasure trove.

It didn’t take long for him to realize the beautifully carved chair was real Chippendale, just sitting there like it was something Wendy’s relations had bought at a big box store.

Not a replica, like the Queen Anne in his room.

He slid onto the wooden seat and ran his hands down the scrolled arms, the details imprinting on his fingers. “This is gorgeous.”

Wendy straightened up from placing the ladder. A strangled noise came from the back of her throat, and she stood very, very still.

“Ms. Marsh?” Maybe he should have asked permission before sitting in the damn seat. He got up and moved toward her.

“Uh, I’m all right.” She flashed her fake smile, but the heavy echo on her face belied any attempt at complacency.

Her shoulder lifted in an awkward half-shrug as she turned away from him.

“The desk and chair have been in my family for a long time.” She climbed the ladder and unscrewed the bulb with quick, efficient movements.

“They’re fine pieces of work.” But there was nothing extraordinary about them to cause that reaction.

With Wendy’s attention on the ceiling, he forced himself to study the papers lying on the desk’s surface.

Nothing more than a list of things to do written in a shaky hand – probably not Wendy’s, since she seemed connected to her phone – and contracts for an upcoming event about winning some flowers or something.

The ladder creaked when Wendy descended from her perch, and he covered his snooping by stroking the gleaming wood.

She flipped the switch, and light flooded the space. She spared a look at the empty chair, then turned to Rob. “Now,” she said. “What can I do for you, Dr. Upshaw?”

“Did you happen to find the registry?”

“Not yet.”

“That’s fine.” He looked around the room. “I can’t come up with anything to do that beats picking peaches. Any suggestions on what’s happening in Claremont?”

“I hope you don’t bill your clients by the hour.”

“A set fee per day, plus expenses. But getting a feel for the town where someone lived is important to uncovering nuances in their daily lives.”

She nodded, but didn’t move from her position by the ladder.

Her focus drifted back to the Chippendale, and her hand reached up to play with her hair.

“Are you looking for historic? Old cemeteries? Quirky? We have some fabulous farmer’s markets and beautiful historical buildings.

” The words were more of a recitation, like she was more preoccupied with her split ends than with him.

“Whatever you recommend. ”

She raised her chin in the direction of the desk. “Can you grab that stack of letters for me?”

After her lectures earlier about letting guests help, it was an odd request. She was only a few steps away from it, but obviously something else was going on. “Is there anything I need to know? Sharp corners on the wood? Trap doors under the floor?”