“I appreciate it, Matthew, and for letting me copy down your mama’s recipes.” He pressed the keys into her hand, Charlie asking, “How much do I owe you?”
Dragging his eyes from where their fingers touched, Matthew claimed, “Grimes’ll cover the cost of your car.”
“I mean for lunch. Best meal I’ve had in ages.”
“We thought you might like something fillin’.” He looked almost embarrassed when Nathaniel snorted behind him. “You don’t owe a thing.”
Charlie gave him a warm, heart melting smile and lowered her lashes, looking to his chest as if counting the buttons of his shirt. “All right then. Goodbye.”
* * *
When she was out the door, Nathaniel choked on shine and laughter. “I bet you
wanna give her something fillin’.” The hilarity was ruined when his brother slapped the back of his head. “Oww, Matthew! Shit. Charlie ain’t gonna chase you like Alice did. If you want her, you’re gonna have to go get her.”
Red-faced and seriously considering punching Nathaniel right in the goddamn mouth, Matthew snarled, “She ain’t no Alice.”
“No, she ain’t.” Whether it was his drunkenness or his frustration after months of watching his little brother stare all doe eyed at Charlie and do nothing, Nathaniel stood from his chair, maybe leaner but several inches taller, and snarled, “Alice was spoiled, looking to be taken care of.” Gesturing round the room, spilling moonshine as his jar swept the view, he said what no one had dared. “She couldn’t handle this life and ran off to chase her big city dreams at the first sign of trouble. We ain’t never said it, but we know Charlie saved our skins that night. She didn’t flinch, not once. It’s worth lovin’ her for!” Nathaniel shoved on past, grumbling about how fucking stupid his younger brother was for pining over the wrong woman, the screen door banging behind him as he plopped down into the rocking chair on the porch to finish his jar in peace.
Chapter 8
“Eli,” Matthew called from his office, cantankerous after the late run and the subsequent brawl waiting for him at the end of it.
Leaning his head in, a wide-eyed Eli asked, “Yeah?”
“Run into town and pick up a shipment, then find Nathaniel and tell him to get his ass up to the stills. Gotta get them jars full for tomorrow night.”
“Sure thing, cousin.”
Eager to be out of the grill and away from the monotony of washing dishes, Eli took his time picking up jars, sugar, and other assorted ingredients required to make quality shine. As he was securing the load, Gap Mill’s local postman came lumbering over.
“Eli Emerson, parcel come from Chicago this morning for Devil’s Hollow.”
With thought, Eli tossed the thing in the truck so he might step into the parlor of Fontanne’s Boarding House. Smiling at the patroness, he employed his best manners. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Fontanne. I came to see if Miss Elliot was in.”
His charming smile didn’t earn one in return.
“That woman’s been gone for days.” The needle jabbed through her mending, Mrs. Fontanne scowling something fierce. “Just comes and goes as she pleases with no concern to tell us when or where.”
“I’m… awful sorry to hear that. You know when she’ll be back?”
Eyes flashed behind the glasses resting on the tip of Mrs. Fontanne’s nose. “No, Eli Emerson, I don’t know when she’ll be back—just like I told Matthew two days ago.”
“Matthew was here?” Eli was downright amazed.
“That’s what I said, ain’t it?” Mrs. Fontanne set aside the mending, looking the youth dead in the eye. “You tell your cousin he’s wasting his time if he’s thinking of courtin’ that woman. There’s something unnatural about her.”
“You shouldn’t be saying harsh words about a new person in town, Mrs. Fontanne.” Eli stood tall, looking a lot more like Matthew as his brows drew tight. “Us Emersons call her friend, and I don’t suspect your husband would take too kindly to starting trouble with the family who loaned him the money to keep this place afloat.” Eli put on his hat, ignoring her indignant huff, and left with a polite, “Have a good afternoon now.”
By the time he was back at Devil’s Hollow, Eli was worked up and muttering under his breath. Carrying the strange package through the door, he went straight to the counter, dumping the box on the polished wood before announcing to his cousin, “I think that old biddy, Mrs. Fontanne, is givin’ our Charlie a hard time. Called her unnatural…”
There were a few local men eating lunch and sipping on jars. One or two looked up at Eli’s outburst.
Matthew didn’t glance from his figures, yet asked gruffly, “You called on Miss Elliot?”
“Yeah, wanted to see if she might come down for lunch... but she’s gone off somewhere.” Eli began to pull the ties of the package.
“What’s that you got there?” Pale eyes looked to the address.