you have an enjoyable stay.”
Deacon didn’t seem fazed by Hank’s dismissive tone. He looked back to Callie. “What do you recommend?”
“Everything’s good.”
He grinned at her answer, and the feeling of familiarity increased. “That was diplomatic.”
Hank cleared his throat. It was obvious he wanted to get back to their conversation, to hear Callie’s decision.
She’d made a decision, but it could wait two minutes for whatever Deacon Holt wanted. On the chance he could offer free publicity, she was going to make him feel more than welcome.
“The sourdough is terrific,” she said. “Any sandwich made with that. If you have a sweet tooth, I’d try a cupcake. The buttercream frosting is to die for.”
“Buttercream frosting it is,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Callie?” Hank prompted as Deacon walked away.
“My answer is yes,” she said.
Hank beamed. He really did have an extraordinary smile. He took her hand in both of his. “I’m so pleased.”
“When’s the next meeting?”
“Thursday. Six thirty.”
“I’ll be there.”
* * *
Deacon had been surprised to find Callie in an intimate discussion with Mayor Hank Watkins. Deacon had only been in town a couple of days, but he’d already learned all about the Watkins family. They were the Clarksons of Charleston—all the power, the prestige and the local money.
He’d also been surprised, even more surprised, that Callie was poised, polished and so stunningly beautiful in person. He hadn’t expected that of Frederick’s wife. Frederick hadn’t exactly been suave with the opposite sex.
Deacon had gone to a different high school than Aaron, Beau and Frederick. Deacon had been at PS-752. His three half brothers had gone to Greenland Academy. But there had been enough cross-pollination through sporting events and in social circles, that he’d known the basics of each of them.
He and Beau were the same age. Aaron was a year older, and Frederick was two years younger. Aaron was blond, Beau dark like Deacon and Frederick had ended up with ginger hair and freckles. He was thinner than his brothers and shorter, and always seemed to live in Aaron’s intellectual shadow, as well as Beau’s athletic one.
Even in the best circumstances, Deacon couldn’t see a woman like Callie falling for a man like Frederick. He supposed it could have been the money. It was often the money. Heck, it was usually the money.
For some reason, Deacon didn’t want to think that of Callie. But he’d be a fool if he didn’t consider the possibility.
After first meeting her yesterday, he’d waited overnight, waited through the morning, and now he was eating lunch at Downright Sweet for a second time. He was looking for more information, particularly for information on her relationship with Mayor Hank Watkins.
From what Deacon could see, Callie was way out of Hank’s league. But Hank obviously thought he had a shot. She must have given him encouragement of some kind.
Fact was, Hank had money just like Frederick. There was a chance Callie’s charming personality was an act, hiding a shrewd woman who knew exactly what she wanted.
She was behind the counter now, serving customers and looking as enchanting as yesterday. Her dark blond hair was in a jaunty ponytail. Thick lashes framed her blue-green eyes, and her cheeks were flushed with heat and exertion. Her apparent work ethic didn’t dovetail with a gold digger. Then again, most people had contradictions in their personalities. And he hadn’t even begun to get to know her.
She’d been right about the sourdough bread. It was beyond delicious. Yesterday he’d gone with black forest ham. Today he was trying sliced turkey and tomato. He hadn’t decided on dessert yet. There were too many choices.
His gaze moved from the tarts to the cupcakes to the pastries and cookies. He was tempted by the peanut butter white chocolate. Then again, he could practically taste the strawberry cream tarts. Maybe he’d have two desserts. Maybe he’d have to run ten miles before he went to bed tonight.
He was just about to bite into the second half of his sandwich, when the café door opened. Two young boys rushed inside, followed by a perky teenage girl in a T-shirt, shorts and white runners.
Deacon set down his sandwich and watched the boys with amazement. There was no question that they were Callie’s two sons. The four-year-old was a mini version of Aaron, while the eighteen-month-old looked exactly like Beau.
“Mommy, mommy,” the younger one called out. He trotted through the maze of tables, while his brother followed at a more measured pace.
Callie smiled at her toddler. “Hello, my little darling.”
“We were going to stop for ice cream on Parker Street,” the teenage girl said.
She looked to be about sixteen. Her blond hair had a flashy blue streak in it that swooped across her forehead. “But the lineup was nearly an hour long, so they decided to bring all the kids back to the preschool early.”
“Did you have fun at the waterpark?” Callie asked.
“Sprinkley,” said the compact Beau.
“I went down the big slide.” Little Aaron made a long swooping motion with his hand.
“Ethan squirted everything that moved.” The teenager ruffled Little Beau’s dark head. “He has good aim.”
“Squirted James head,” Ethan sang out with pride. He turned his thumb and index finger into a gun and pointed at his brother.
Deacon watched the interplay with amazement.
“I was already wet,” James said philosophically.
“I’m glad you had fun,” Callie said.
“Can we have cookies?” James asked.
“Since you skipped the ice cream, you can each have one.”
“I want peanut butter,” James said.
“Color candies,” Ethan sang out.
“What about you, Pam?” Callie asked the teenager.
“I’m fine.”
“We just took some oatmeal monster cookies out of the oven.”
Pam laughed. “You talked me into it.”
She ushered the boys to a table by the wall.
Deacon rose and crossed to the counter.
“Those are your sons?” he asked Callie.
The question obviously took her by surprise.
