Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(27)

Claire Walker, Liz Beacon’s great-aunt, sat at the table sipping a mixed drink from a tumbler and picked up her poker hand one card at a time. With her deadpan expression, chin-length gray hair and hideous bowling shirt, Carter was tempted to hand Claire a cigar to complete the picture. “That reminds me,” Claire announced, “Lydia wants to know if she should withhold fluids. I told her you had plenty of bushes outside if she was desperate to go.” She winked at him.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Ruth said we can still use the bathrooms.” June Hastings, another of Grams’ friends, gave Claire a reproving look. “Why do you say things like that? You know how gullible Lydia is.”

Claire’s lips twitched. “That’s what makes it fun.”

Carter lifted the wheelbarrow handles again, but hesitated, torn between making his escape before his mortar set up and trying to wheedle one of the hot hors d’oeuvre thingies Grams had just set on the table.

“Lydia? Are you coming?” Grams called. “Claire’s dealt already! Now, about you,” she said, turning toward Carter again, “I want you to do a nice job for the Beacons. They’re old friends.”

“But, not too nice,” Claire said, fanning out her cards. “Keep your pants on.”

“What?”Carter said.

Claire took a sip from her tumbler. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re about, young man. You’ve got that same look as your father. Liz used to be a little plump but she’s slimmed down now and filled out rather nicely, if you know what I mean. Boys like you always have one thing on their minds when they see an attractive girl. Just sayin’.”

Carter met his grandmother’s eyes pleadingly. She wasn’t helping.

“Why am I getting a lecture here? What have I even done?”

“You’ve eaten dinner there. You put out a grease fire and you saved her cat, and we all know what that means.” Claire enumerated her points as if they were charges against the accused instead of acts of friendly goodwill.

“You saved her cat?” June asked.

“He got loose. I caught him. Who told you that, anyway?”

“Lydia and I let the cat out by accident when we went to visit Elizabeth yesterday. He’s a sprinter, that one. Shot out like a rocket.” Claire eyed him. “Anyway, we heard the whole story. If you’re around enough to be putting out grease fires and saving cats, then you’re around enough for other things, too, by my way of thinking.”

“I’m just putting in a patio.”

“See,” said Grams, finally coming to his rescue. “No nefarious intent involved.”

“Exactly,” Carter said, breathing again. “She’s a nice enough person and we knew each other in school, but she’s not my type.”

An eye-watering cloud of perfume entered the room moments before the visual assault of Lydia Sweet’s Technicolor caftan. “I have a situation,” Lydia pouted. She held up an empty maraschino jar. “I’m out of cherries. Again!”

Grams and June glared at Claire—who just rolled her eyes. “Fine. I had a couple. If she didn’t take so long to get going, I wouldn’t have been standing there nibbling. I could have blood sugar issues, you know. Maybe I needed to eat them.”

“Grams, if you want these steps laid—” Carter began, but Grams held up a hand in his face and wagged a finger at Claire as if directing traffic. “The Lord’s watching you, Claire Walker. And, everyone knows you’re healthy as a horse.”

“The Almighty’s got better things to do than strike me down for eating a few cherries,” Claire grumbled.

Carter made his escape while he had the chance. He’d snitch a pastry later.

He pushed the wheelbarrow to the breezeway entry, selected a stone, mixed the mortar he’d left to slake in the wheelbarrow and contemplated the job at hand. Grams’ shadow appeared in the doorway above him.

“What makes her not your type?” she demanded as if the conversation wasn’t over.

Carter let out a long-suffering sigh. No sense pretending he didn’t know who she was talking about. “So, first you guys want me to like her, then you want me to stay away from her and now you want me to like her again? Make up my mind.”

“I want to know why you won’t consider her.”

“I’m taking her to our class reunion. Clearly I’ve considered her.”

“You know what I mean. I mean seriously consider.”

Carter raised a dark brow and shook his head. “Seriously consider? She’s in town for what? Two weeks? What’s to seriously consider? Besides, she’s a Vice President or something now. A big shot. Like I said, she’s not my type.” He got up to grab another stone, but his grandmother’s hand stopped him.

“Don’t you dare,” she whispered fiercely. “You’re a hard worker, Carter. You’ll be taking over your uncle’s business soon. Don’t you dare think you’re not good enough for the Elizabeth Beacons of this world. When are you going to give yourself the credit you deserve?”

He couldn’t meet her eyes. He knew they’d be filled with love and compassion. It was the fierce mama-bear look she’d always given him when she thought he wasn’t living up to his potential. And it made him feel eight years old again.