and for the meals as well.”
Tucker didn’t know what made him agree to stay, but he suspected Ruth had something to do with it. It was nothing she said or did. More, it was a feeling he got from her. Although they came from different circumstances, he sensed they shared a common bond. He detected an undercurrent stirring her soul, creating a whirlpool of emotions in her inner being. As for himself, his whirlpool felt like a deep, black hole out of which he feared he’d never emerge. But, for some reason, that hole seemed a little less black, a little less bottomless, when he was near Ruth.
“We’ll discuss that at checkout time,” said Aunt Shirley, smiling. Then she mumbled something about making room at the inn in Bethlehem. The older woman seemed obviously pleased to have him join their household.
He could tell, however, that Ruth was not happy with the arrangement.
Ruth wasn’t happy with the arrangement. She suspected the charming newcomer was up to no good, and she wondered why she was the only one who could see through this guy. But her family’s willing acceptance of the stranger and their open invitation to him were thwarting her attempts to protect her impulsive aunt. Maybe he’d been telling the truth about the blood-brothers pact. But what if he hadn’t been?
She got a stack of plates out of the cabinet and placed them around the table. When she was done with that, she returned to the cabinet for glasses. As she reached for the first one, a movement through the window over the sink caught her eye. A leather-jacketed figure was moving the two-seater convertible sports car to the carriage-house-turned-garage behind the house. Of course. He wouldn’t want anyone ripping off his car while he ripped off her aunt.
He was convincing, that was certain. But apparently she was the only one who picked up on the subtle vibes that their handsome visitor sent out. Sure, Vivian and Brooke had picked up on some vibes, but she suspected they were more hormonal than anything else. Besides, Vivian picked up vibes from—and sent out signals to—all red-blooded males.
The message Ruth received from him was that he was a man on a mission. True, he was looking for something, but Ruth was convinced the “something” he sought was not a slip of paper under a floorboard. There was more. And she intended to find out what else he was after.
Ruth leaned against the sink and watched as he came out of the carriage house, pausing in the doorway to survey the grounds. Tucker was a devilishly good-looking man, no doubt about it.
Something brushed against her arm, pulling her back to the present.
Vivian nudged her with an elbow. “Want me to get a mop? Someone could slip and fall in that puddle of drool.”
Ruth bristled at her sister’s misinterpretation. “I just don’t think he should have the run of the place. Who knows what he might be getting into?”
“Let it rest,” said Vivian. “By the way, Aunt Shirley said to add another plate for dinner. She talked Cousin Tucker into joining us this evening.”
By now, Ruth was gritting her teeth. “He’s not our cousin!”
“Yeah. So?”
There was no arguing with these people. Once her headstrong family members had their minds made up, there was no changing them. And since, for the space of about forty-five minutes, they’d thought Tucker to be their cousin, he would forever after have that status. Talk about family ties!
Ruth got out another plate, and Vivian helped her carry the rest of the glasses to the large formal dining room.
When dinner was served, it turned out to be anything but formal. The noise and commotion were enough to make the Ringling Brothers envious. Aunt Shirley had to rap her tea glass with her spoon to quiet everyone for the blessing.
After grace was said, Brooke began filling Tucker in on who was who in their family, starting with Ada May. “Did you know Aunt Ada’s a hooker?” she asked matter-of-factly.
Tucker glanced down the table at the sweet white-haired woman who appeared to be every bit of eighty years old. This was the one who, while they were decorating the Christmas tree, became embarrassed when Brooke casually used the word pregnant to describe the situation of a girl at her school. Ada May had hastily advised her young niece to say “in the family way” instead.
But now, having been called a hooker, she merely nodded sweetly, the flesh of her chin bobbing as she did so.
Tucker turned to the girl beside him and spoke in a low, unbelieving tone. “She used to do that, eh?”
“Still does,” Brooke insisted. “Don’t you, Aunt Ada?”
Ada May nodded again, making the flesh under her chin ripple like water on a rock-skipped pond. “I tried to get Oren interested in doing it, too, but it’s not his cup of tea. He said the little bit of money I get out of it isn’t worth all the effort I put into it.”
Tucker frowned, trying to make sense of it. “You actually have…customers? And Oren doesn’t mind?”
“Sure, I have them lined up waiting for my next piece,” she said. “And of course Oren doesn’t mind.” She bestowed a loving look on her husband. “He likes to watch me work…says it’s very relaxing.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t kid you. If you’d like, we can go into the parlor this evening, and I’ll show you some of the tricks and fancy maneuvers I’ve learned over the years. I won’t even charge you.”
Tucker rubbed his chin, scratching the newly sprouted bristles. “That’s, uh, very generous of you.”
Sitting beside the elderly woman, Ruth smiled at Tucker as she patted her aunt’s hand. “If you don’t have time for a lesson,” she told him, “perhaps you’d rather take a look at the assortment of rugs Aunt Ada has hooked.”
Brooke giggled as the cat was let out of the bag. However, judging from Ruth’s careful selection of words, it was clear they were not to let the elderly craftswoman know she’d been the butt of a naughty joke. She’d surely die of embarrassment.
Tucker took the hint and decided that changing the subject would lessen the chances of Ada finding out what was so funny.
“In that case,” he confided aloud to the girl beside him, “I guess you could say I was once in a motorcycle gang.”
“Really?” Brooke looked skeptical.
“Yep. When I was eight I joined a gang of kids who all wished we had motorcycles.” He nodded thoughtfully. “We even got lick-and-stick tattoos.”
Although Brooke rolled her eyes in the age-old tradition of teenagers, Tucker was rewarded with a smile from Ruth.
He liked her smile. He supposed it was the infamous Babcock smile since many of the people sitting at the table shared a similar feature. But hers was somehow different. Although her sister’s smile was more stunning in an overt sort of way, Ruth’s seemed to hint that there was quite a bit more to her than what showed on the surface.
And despite her understandable apprehension toward him, he wanted to get to know her better. Explore those marvelous Babcock lips. Make them turn upward with satisfaction like a cat that’s had its fill of cream.
She
