A Summer Romance (4 page)

“I’ve never met her,” Maggie admitted when
the silence drew on and she realized Andi was waiting for her to
share what she knew about the mysterious Ms. Devereaux. Andi looked
a little disappointed as if she’d hoped to learn some great
secret.

“Oh well, here’s to another mystery left
unsolved.” She smiled as she raised her glass in toast.

Maggie tried to calm her nerves as she
raised her glass to clink against Andi’s, but she couldn’t seem to
shake the feeling that perhaps she hadn’t just answered a random
ad, but instead that she’d been intentionally brought here. But
why? How? It seemed too ridiculous to be possible.

The wine had a strong earthy flavor that
reminded her of olives. Maggie didn’t recognize it. She glanced at
the bottle but saw no label.

“Muscadine,” Andi said, noting her gaze.
“Homemade.” She winked.

Maggie took another sip. It was very
good.

“I like it. I’ve never had muscadine wine
before,” Maggie admitted.

“It’s a Southern specialty,” Andi boasted
proudly. “So tell me, if you don’t actually know Ms. Devereaux, how
on earth did you end up in Georgia?” she asked as she topped off
Maggie’s glass.

Aside from the bizarre events that brought
Maggie to Sweetwater, her first week at the plantation was rather
uneventful and she quickly fell into a comfortable routine in her
temporary new home; coffee on the veranda in the morning, tea in
the library in the afternoon. The mornings were cool enough to take
short walks around the property, but the afternoon heat usually
kept her indoors. Maggie decided to enjoy her time here, rather
than spend it chasing after answers she may never find. Even if she
didn’t understand Ms. Devereaux’s motives, she knew her own
motives. She needed the reprieve and that’s exactly what she’d
found.

Andi became a regular visitor, stopping by
most nights after work. When she realized how poor Maggie’s cooking
skills were she made it her personal mission to teach her how to
prepare a proper meal. She would always show up with an arm full of
groceries and as Andi would show Maggie how to prepare some new
dish she would bring her up to date on all the local gossip. Her
social chatter reminded Maggie of her mother in some ways. Maggie
felt like she already knew everybody in the town, just from Andi’s
stories, although one name had been notably absent from all of her
tales: Aaron Miles. Maggie tried to pretend she wasn’t listening
for it.

The cleaning crew came on Thursday. Maggie
tried to be as unobtrusive as possible as the women buzzed around
the house vacuuming, dusting, and polishing the furniture. To
Maggie’s surprise she noticed that the cleaning crew also steered
clear of the East wing. Apparently no one was allowed down those
dark deserted halls.

The house cleaning staff was well-instructed
and efficient, working around Maggie as if she wasn’t there.
Growing up they’d had a housekeeper, but to Maggie she’d always
seemed like part of the family. As a child, Mrs. Burton would let
Maggie help with the chores as long as she promised not to tell her
mother.

It was strange to simply sit around while
these women worked. Maggie felt as if she should offer some sort of
help but knew it was not proper etiquette. Instead she retreated
into the library and withdrew into the world of a well-crafted
novel. The library was quickly becoming her favorite room in the
house.

Monday brought an unwelcome call from Sam,
the local mechanic who had towed Old Betty to his shop last week.
From what Maggie gathered out of the conversation she needed some
new belts, some sort of pump, and something for the transmission.
None of that really made any sense to her, but what she did clearly
understand was the grand total of $2000.

That was nearly all of the money that she
was being paid for the summer, there was no way she could spend
that much.

Sam had offered her two options, she could
pay to fix the car or he would purchase it from her for scrap
parts. He offered her $500, which she thought was fair considering
the car didn’t run. It was a heart wrenching decision, but one she
knew she needed to make.

Old Betty had been the first thing Maggie
had ever bought with her own money. She’d secretly worked at a
bookstore her senior year of high school to save up the money. Her
mother had believed that she was on the prom committee. It was an
acceptable cover, an extracurricular activity that her mother could
approve of that also offered enough after school time requirements
to hold down the part time job. Luckily for Maggie her mother
believed that it would take the entire school year to plan the
dance, so Maggie was able to use those after school hours to work
at her favorite little bookstore in town. It was also to Maggie’s
advantage that neither her mother, nor anyone from her mother’s
social circle, would ever have enough interest to step into the
shop where she worked.

She’d secretly stowed away her small
earnings until she had enough to purchase Old Betty. She’d planned
it perfectly so that she could buy the car immediately after
graduation, the same week that she would be informing her mother
that she would be leaving for college rather than attending a
Finishing School in Switzerland. Maggie knew her mother’s
intentions were good, to groom her for a life of wealth and
privilege. It was the only way her mother knew. It didn’t matter
that it wasn’t the life that Maggie wanted.

Her mother had been offended by Maggie’s
interest in science and discouraged it at every turn. In her
opinion a woman should not aspire to be a doctor, she should aspire
to marry one, but only a very wealthy and well-renowned doctor of
course. Maggie quietly disagreed.

She eventually learned to stop trying to
talk to her mother about her true passions and instead participated
in the superficial socialite chatter that she preferred. She
attended cotillions and debutant balls. She paraded around in the
beautiful dresses that her mother bought for her and took lessons
in proper etiquette for high society. She jumped through every hoop
her mother put in front of her and did it with quiet grace. But she
never gave up on her dreams, secretly applying to universities in
Boston and planning the future she really wanted.

Perhaps that was where she’d gone wrong.
Maybe if she’d stood up to her mother from the beginning and
insisted that she understand what she really wanted, then she might
not have been so shocked by the revelation that Maggie had been
accepted into Harvard University’s pre-med program. For most
parents learning that your child would be attending Harvard would
have been a moment of great pride. For Corrine Overton it was a
slap in the face. Every plan she’d ever had for her daughter had
shattered in that moment and she had been irate.

It was the first time Maggie had ever seen
her mother lose her composure. Maggie had taken the berating with
silent grace as her father sat helplessly to the side rubbing his
temples. He’d never really participated much in his daughter’s life
and now would not be the time for him to step in. Maggie allowed
her mother to speak her piece, and then quietly and efficiently had
packed her few belongings into Old Betty and drove away. It had
been over six years since she’d last spoken to her mother.

Letting go of Old Betty was both painful and
liberating. That car had carried Maggie from her childhood home to
Boston, where she’d once believed all her dreams would come true.
That same car had also carried her away from Boston when those
dreams had been shattered. Maggie’s instinct was to hold onto the
car no matter the cost, to hold onto the security that it
represented.

So for that reason Maggie let the car go.
She decided it was time to step out of her comfort zone. Coming to
Georgia had definitely been completely out of her comfort zone and
so far Maggie felt like it was one of the best choices she’d ever
made. She had already begun to feel like a different person, which
was exactly what she needed.

Old Betty was the last remnant of her old
life and she was ready to say goodbye. For the first time Maggie
had no plan for the future. It was absolutely terrifying, so she
refused to let herself dwell on it. Instead she was going to live
completely in the moment. One day at a time.

When Tuesday arrived Maggie realized just
how much she’d been anticipating this day. She tried to deny that
it had anything to do with the Aaron Miles, but even she couldn’t
deny the extra skip in her step as she took her morning coffee to
the balcony. It had been exactly one week since she first saw him,
surely he was due back today.

She’d woken early and had already showered
and dressed for the day. Her long white dress ruffled in the
morning breeze as she looked out over the peach orchards. She tried
to pretend that she hadn’t dressed up for any particular reason
today, but as she sipped her morning coffee her ears were tuned in
for any sound: a car door, a lawn mower. She was waiting for him
and she knew it.

When the sound of a lawn mower rang through
the air her heart skipped a beat. She jumped up from the rocker and
leaned over the banister. She told herself it was the boredom and
the solitude that had her acting like a lovesick teenager. Not that
she really knew how a lovesick teenager acted. She’d never been one
of those girls. She’d always had her nose buried in a book.

She reasoned with herself that it was pure
curiosity causing her to seek him out this way. He couldn’t
possibly be as handsome as she remembered from that first brief
encounter. She just needed to get another look.

And then he was below her, navigating the
large mower in even rows across the backyard. The sun glinted off
his blonde hair. She could see the muscles in his arms working as
he maneuvered the levers. She leaned her elbows on the banister,
crossed her ankles behind her, and just watched. There was
something very exciting about watching him this way. She felt very
brazen and little wicked. In short, she felt nothing like her
boring old self which was completely exhilarating.

Once he was gone from her view she made her
way downstairs to the kitchen. As she’d indulged her voyeuristic
inclinations on the balcony she’d hatched a plan. She needed to see
him face to face again. She remembered the way he’d made her feel
last week. It was the first time she’d ever been rendered
speechless by a man. She told herself again that it was scientific
curiosity that pushed her forward. She needed to understand what it
was about him that turned her brain to mush. She’d been surrounded
by men at Harvard but none had affected her this way. Perhaps
that’s why she felt so drawn to him. He was definitely outside her
comfort zone.

However as she stepped onto the front porch
her bravery vanished and all of her old familiar insecurities came
crashing back. She would have turned around and headed straight
back into the house if he hadn’t been right in front of her pruning
the azalea bushes.

“Good morning, Ma’am.” He smiled up at her,
casually flashing his charming dimples. Her knees felt a little
weak. It must be the dimples.

“Please call me Maggie.” She was impressed
with the strength of her voice. Her insides were quivering.

“Maggie.” The sensuous way her name rolled
off his tongue made her heart beat a little faster. Maybe it was
the southern accent.

“Would you like some lemonade? It’s awfully
hot out here.” She remembered her plan and was grateful that she’d
come up with something to say. She may have been turning to mush on
the inside, but she felt like she was holding it together on the
outside pretty well.

“Sure.” He smiled up at her again. “I’ve
actually got something for you. I’ll be right back.” He turned and
jogged to his truck that was parked in the driveway. She admired
the view from behind.

She stood perfectly poised on the front
porch as he retrieved a small paper bag from his truck and returned
to the house. He climbed the steps and stopped in front of her,
lifting his sunglasses from his eyes and resting them on top of his
head. His sparkling blue eyes looked straight into hers and stirred
something deep inside her. She had to turn away and walk into the
house before she whimpered out loud. Without question, it was his
eyes. That was definitely what made her forget her own name.

“How’s our patient doing?” he asked as they
entered the kitchen.

“What?”

“Fred,” he said, gesturing to her plant near
the window. She felt absolutely mortified that he not only knew
that she’d named her plant, but actually remembered the name.
Perhaps he was just humoring her the way kind people do when they
meet someone crazy.

“Oh… um… he seems alright,” she stuttered as
she handed him a glass of lemonade. Why couldn’t she form an
intelligent sentence around this man?

“I brought this for him,” he said, holding
up the paper sack. Speechlessly she accepted the bag and looked
inside. It held a small brown plastic bottle.

“It’s rooting hormone,” he explained. “It
should help with re-establishing a new root system. Works well for
re-potting.” He leaned against the counter casually as he sipped
his lemonade. He seemed completely at ease.

Maggie was so touched that he’d thought to
bring this for her. She didn’t know what to say. Just then the cat
came wandering into the kitchen and jumped onto the counter. He
immediately crossed to the potted plant and circled around it once
before laying at its base.

“They seem to have made up.” Aaron smiled,
nodding toward the cat curled around the pot.

“Yeah, Killer’s made himself right at home,”
Maggie muttered irritably. She couldn’t seem to keep him off the
kitchen counter.

“Killer?” Aaron laughed. “Oh, come on, I
don’t think he quite deserves that name. I mean, Fred did survive
after all,” he teased her playfully. Maggie still couldn’t believe
how easily he’d accepted her silly little name for her plant.