in the house. He’d shed his sports jacket, but still looked decidedly un-Heron Point. His black shirt with charcoal pinstriping was well tailored and obviously expensive, but even with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, Jack Hogan still looked like he’d come from a boardroom.
“Thanks.” He surveyed the parlor, obviously trying to choose the most appropriate chair. Claire had never thought critically about her tastes before, but now that she looked at the furnishings from a man’s perspective, she supposed the room had an overwhelmingly feminine look. He picked a large old rattan barrel chair she had re-covered in a delicate pastel stripe. Next to the sofa, it was the most substantial piece in the room and hugged his sculpted body admirably.
Claire sat on the overstuffed floral love seat covered with what she now realized was an impractical number of fringed pillows. “Now, what about this misfortune?”
He came right to the point. “I need a place to stay.”
Her first thought was that he was suggesting he might be invited to stay at Tansy Hill. Otherwise why had he come here? It was a ridiculous notion, of course. Still, Claire tamped down a shiver of panic. No man besides her stepson, Carlos, had ever slept a night at Tansy Hill. Claire didn’t even date. “There are lots of places on the island,” she said. “You won’t have any trouble finding something for tonight.”
“That’s just it. Tonight only. It’s Thursday, and everybody has vacancies. But nobody has anything for the weekend.”
“Oh? You’re staying that long?”
He smiled, showing those white teeth again, which now were an interesting contrast to his five o’clock stubble of dark beard. “Don’t sound so disappointed, but yes. I’m staying a month or more.”
Claire tried to ignore the gasp of surprise that came from the hallway. But ignoring Pet’s entrance was impossible. Her aunt sailed into the room in advance of her billowing red silk lounge pants and a mist of spicy incense. “A month?” she said. “You don’t say?”
Hogan stood up and shook her outstretched hand. “Hello, again.” He seemed genuinely pleased to see her. “That’s right. And I’m finding that every place in town can accommodate me for the weeknights, but not for Friday and Saturday.”
“We’re a weekend tourist destination,” Claire said. “Heron Point’s population nearly doubles every Friday night. Our seafood restaurants alone bring folks from all over the state. And our shoreline is one of the most unique in Florida.”
Hogan sat again and crossed his ankle over the opposite knee. “You sound like a brochure, Mrs. Betancourt. Gee, I love the town already.”
Pet waved her hand, making the dozen bells on her silver bracelet jingle softly. “It’s a wonderful town,” she said. “You can’t help but love it.”
“I won’t get the chance to find out if I don’t get a place to stay.” He focused on Claire again. “That’s why I’ve come to you. I figure if anybody could point me in the direction of a permanent room to rent, it would be you. I don’t look forward to sleeping five nights a week in a hotel and the last two in my car.”
“Who are you?”
Claire whirled around at the sound of her daughter’s voice. “Jane, this is Mr. Hogan,” she said as Jane came to the middle of the room. “He’s staying in Heron Point for a while.”
Hogan stood up again. The man did have manners. Unfortunately he didn’t appear to know quite what to do once he was face-to-face with a human who stood less than four feet tall. He took his cue from Jane who, as usual, exhibited not the least sign of shyness. She thrust her little hand at his midsection and he enclosed it in a palm that seemed three times the size of hers. “How do you do, Jane?”
“Are you staying for dinner?” she asked. “Aunt Pet thought you might be. I have extra biscuits.”
Not for the first time, Jane’s characteristic impulsiveness put Claire in an uncomfortable position. She thought of the three chicken breasts she’d just put in the oven. She supposed she could slice them up, add a can of mushroom soup and stretch the menu to include three women and one formidable, substantially built man. Of course not taken into consideration was the fact that Claire did not especially want Jack Hogan to stay to dinner.
He eliminated her concern. “No, I’m just here to ask your mother a favor. I need a place to stay.”
“You could stay here I suppose,” Jane said. “We have a guest room.”
Claire stiffened.
Pet hooted.
“Well, thanks,” Hogan said, giving Jane a little smile. “But I didn’t mean anything like that. I meant a place in town.”
“We have lots of nice places,” Jane said. “The rates are reasonable this time of year.”
Claire gently pulled Jane to the love seat and forced her to sit. “That’s my daughter,” she said. “Future chamber of commerce president.”
Hogan scrubbed his hand across the nape of his neck. “Look, I didn’t mean to interrupt your household. If you can just give me a recommendation, and maybe even make a call on my behalf to someone in town who could rent me a room, I’ll be grateful and be on my way. I’m sure your husband…”
Jane sat up straight and clasped her hands on her lap. “We don’t have husbands, any of us. We’re single girls.”
The bells on Pet’s wrist jangled as she covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes gleeful. And then she said, “The Pink Ladies! It’s perfect. Hester always keeps one cottage available for emergencies, and I’d say Mr. Hogan has one.”
Claire was still recovering from Jane’s unexpected revelation of the marital status of the women of Tansy Hill, but she managed to stutter out an agreement. “Of course. I’ll call her now.”
“You’ll like it fine there,” Pet said as Claire scurried from the room. “Each cottage has a little sitting area and a small kitchen. Quite cozy.”
Claire returned a minute later. “It’s all set. The landlady is Hester Poole. Tell her you’re the man I sent over.” She gave Hogan directions that included a couple of turns and a short straightaway along the Gulf shore to a row of cottages with a sign in front that said The Pink Ladies.
He thanked her and said good-night.
“You can’t miss it,” Claire hollered after him as he walked briskly to the street.
From her front porch, she watched Hogan drive off in his “gas guzzler.” When she returned to the living room, Aunt Pet had taken the chair he’d occupied and was practically convulsing with laughter. “I know it’s the only place in town,” she said, “but can you imagine that great big gorgeous male in Hester Poole’s Victorian throwback of a cottage?”
Claire laughed, too. “No. And I can’t imagine Hester when he pulls up in that giant black SUV. She’ll think the dinosaurs have come back to life. I hope she doesn’t take down that old Winchester and fire at him.”
Pet shook her head in obvious pleasure. “Right. I don’t want him getting shot now that, thanks to Jane, he knows for sure you’re available.”
Claire
