Hoisting a basket brimming with the packaged meat from her doe, Charlie trod up the well-tended path to Sheriff Cormac’s Main Street dwelling. After her tap against the door, the burly man stood on the threshold.
“Good morning, Sheriff Cormac.” The polite greeting came out just like she’d practiced - innocent and unassuming. Charlie hefted her burden higher. “I have a basket of fresh venison here. Knowing how intrinsic you are to the community, I thought you might know how best to distribute it to families in need.”
Adjusting his belt over his paunch, the grey-haired lawman asked, “And who might you be?”
“My name is Charlotte Elliot.” Peeking past the stout man, Charlie spied Ruth sticking her head out of the kitchen. “I am an acquaintance of your daughter.”
Sheriff Cormac already knew exactly what everyone else knew about Charlie… nothing at all. “Your family from these parts?”
“No sir, my family is no longer with me.” Struggling with the weight of the basket, Charlie tried to explain, “I have been living at Fontannes Boardinghouse. They take decent care of me.” Seeing her struggle, the sheriff reached out to help with her cargo. Charlie offered a grateful smile and went in for the kill. “You see, sir, there is another reason I came to see you. I wanted to ask your permission before I approached your daughter for a favor. Everyone knows Ruth is Monroe’s finest baker - I keep hearing about her cobbler - and, well, I was hoping you might allow her to teach me how to prepare a few things.” Trying to look harmless, Charlie quickly added, “I would supply all the ingredients of course.”
Flattering the man’s daughter seemed to be just the ticket to win the sheriff’s approval. A lax smile came to his face, the lawman asking over his shoulder. “Ruth, child, could you spare the time to teach this young woman?”
“Absolutely, Father.” Kitten eyes twinkled at Charlie, the girl’s mischievous smirk unnoticed by her daddy. “It would be unchristian to do anything less.”
The man looked to the basket. “Just where did you come by all this meat, Miss Elliot?”
Charlie, virtuous expression back in place replied, “A deer ran right in front of my car.” The lie was an easy one. “Eli Emerson drove by and stopped to see if I was alright. He repaired my car - didn’t charge me a nickel - and offered to butcher the deer so others might benefit from the situation. In fact, it was Eli who suggested I come to you, claimed you’d know what to do.”
The expression on the lawman’s face darkened at the first mention of the boy, but Charlie carefully painted a picture of how amiable, how gentlemanly, Eli had been. “I am very grateful to Eli Emerson. He was really kind to me.”
Sensing her cue to jump in, Ruth spoke up. “When would you like to start your lessons?”
Charlie offered her warmest smile. “As soon as may be.”
The following morning, Charlie shuffled up the Cormac’s drive, her arms full of groceries. The Sheriff looked on with a sharp eye, assuring Miss Elliot’s behavior was appropriate for his daughter, but left with a nod about thirty minutes into the women’s batter mixing.
“Dear lord, I thought he would never leave,” Ruth complained, watching out the window as her father went off to work.
Charlie snickered, taking a taste of the batter in her bowl. “When I head on up to Devil’s Hollow later, you want me to take that pie you have sitting pretty as you please in the window?”
“Indeed I do. I should warn you though, Charlie, them Emerson boys are trouble.” A naughty gleam came to Ruth’s eyes. “Good, appealin trouble…”
Charlie eased a little closer, more than willing to be wicked with her friend. “You gonna marry that boy? All I hear is Ruth this and Ruth that. Eli is smitten with you to no end.”
“If he got up the gumption to ask, Daddy would probably shoot him.” Ruth was a heap brighter than her would be Casanova. “The Emerson name ain’t quite what my father has in mind for me.”
“Cause of the bootlegging? Prohibition will end soon enough, and the Emerson name will go back to being respectable.” Trying to put uniform dollops of batter on the cookie sheet, Charlie wondered aloud. “Of course, you could just up and run off with Eli.”
Ruth snorted, reaching out with the tip of a towel to wipe a smear of flour off Charlie’s face. “If you think ending prohibition will make the Emerson name respectable, you just might be crazy. Everyone around here knows what they did, what they do. Anyone who crosses them … well, you know.”
Charlie couldn’t help but think of the sort of men she was used to dealing with. “The Emersons don’t strike me as the type to start trouble - just to end it.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Ruth darted dove eyes to Charlie. “I can see why Matthew likes you.”
“Nathaniel’s the one who likes me - a good friend of mine these days. Matthew tolerates my presence,” Charlie clarified, trying not to think back on the stolen kiss.
“That’s not what Eli says.” The petite brunette cooed, playfully wistful, “Seems he is quite taken with you. Good thing too. No local girls have even earned a glance since Alice ran off. It’d be a waste if a man so handsome didn’t settle down.”
Charlie had forgotten all about the stunning waitress. One mention of the black-haired beauty’s name, and an odd feeling began to weigh in her gut. Their acquaintance may have been brief, but Charlie had seen enough to know Alice was glamorous, had a look about her that drove men wild. Clumsy and awkward, Charlie could not hold a candle to the other woman. Keeping her sinking feelings to herself, she feigned ignorance. “Who was Alice?”
Ruth shrugged. “A girl who waitressed up at Devil’s Hollow last year. Supposedly came from money but had nothing to show for it, if you get my drift. I don’t really know much about her except that she was real stylish and pretty aloof when it came to making friends with the women in town.”
“Why did she leave?”
“Rumors abound. General consensus was Matthew refused to marry her. But my personal opinion… well, based off all Eli told me, is that she wasn’t the kind to stick around. Big dreams, you know.” A timer dinged, and Ruth paused her chatter to pull out the first tray of cookies.
Charlie smiled to find not one was burned or misshapen. “If I didn’t have your help, they would have never turned out so good.”
Disinterested in garnering praise or discussing cookies, Ruth pressed, “What are Nathaniel and Matthew like? I have never been able to speak with them but once or twice in passing. All I got to go on is Eli’s point of view, which might be a little flawed.”
“Well, Nathaniel has the mouth of a sailor and drinks like a fish. I like him, but he may be a little too rough around the edges for most ladies. Matthew is the brooding type, a man of few words who glares a lot.”
“Maybe he ain’t glaring…” Ruth hinted. “Maybe he’s just off kilter around you.”
There was nothing off kilter about his lips the morning before. In fact, the amount of times their kiss had replayed in Charlie’s head was flat out shameful. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Why?” Ruth set the cookies to cool. “Cause you traipse around the woods and hunt deer when no one is lookin?”
Charlie froze, instantly unsure and uncomfortable.
Seeing her friend nervous, Ruth hurriedly explained, “Eli told me last night. Would you take me with you next time? Take me hunting?”
Growing red-faced, Charlie stammered, “I have a feeling, uhh, Eli would not approve.”
“If I don’t listen to my father, what makes you think I’m gonna listen to Eli?”
Ruth had a point.
It was there, boxed up on the seat next to him. He’d driven all the way to Charleston to get the damn thing - could hardly believe he’d spent all of thirty dollars. Glaring at the box stuffed full of his new suit, Matthew tucked it under the seat, out of sight, so he wouldn’t have to answer any damn questions about it.
“Where the hell have you been, Matthew?” Nathaniel complained, climbing in the truck.
Moving the toothpick to the other side of his mouth, Matthew hit the gas. “Where’s Eli?”
“He’s off chasin that girl again.” Nathaniel waved a hand as if annoyed by the whole thing.
“Course he is…” There was already enough leaving Matthew moody and tired. That last thing he wanted to deal with was working over a hot still while his fool cousin shirked responsibility to woo Ruth Cormac.
One man short, the brothers did their work, Matthew growing more aggravated with every hour Eli failed to show up. Making matters worse, where Nathaniel was usually clear minded in tending the stills, his present lack of vitality was wearing on Matthew’s last nerve.
After hours of grueling labor, Matthew checked the time and called it a day.
“But we ain’t done yet,” Nathaniel complained. “We still need to check the mash and bleed the lines on ol’ Bessie.”
“It’ll keep.” There was no one at the grill and customers would be coming soon. “You can take care of it tomorrow once you get the lead out of your ass.”
When they were driving out of the foothills, Nathaniel began fidgeting. “Wanna go into town and see if they got our sugar order in?”
“No, Nathaniel,” Matthew puffed a cigar and shot his brother a glare, “I don’t got all day to fool around.”
“We could call on Charlie,” Nathaniel offered, picking some dried hay off his shirt.
Distrustful, Matthew darted a narrow-eyed glance at his brother. The very thought Nathaniel might be sweet on Charlotte made him grumble and start cursing under his breath. The girl may like to share rough talk, he told himself, but she would never bat her eyelashes at his brother… Or would she?
Skidding to a halt outside Devil’s Hollow, Matthew climbed out and began yanking the tarp off the crates of shine, pausing at the sound of muffled feminine giggles. Stalking up the steps like a snorting bull, he pulled open the screen only to find the grill empty.
The sound of a squeal echoed from above. He heard Eli’s voice, the scrape of furniture shifting, and more of the golden girl’s peals of laughter.
The ruckus was coming from his room. Eli was making her cry out… and gasp. Knowing just what inspired those kinds of noises, Matthew saw red. About ready to murder his cousin, he bounded up the stairs, ignoring how Nathaniel chased after him, telling him to calm down.
Furious, Matthew threw open his bedroom door, causing the two people standing in the middle of the space to look at him as if he were insane.
Charlotte gawped, her blue coveralls scattered with paint smudges, a smear of white milk wash down one side of her face. The startled woman had a paintbrush in her hand… one that looked like she had been attacking his cousin with - seeing as the boy was practically covered in dripping white.
Matthew’s scowl was so deep he could practically feel his brows touching.
“Now calm down, Matthew,” Eli said, recognizing the signs of impending violence.
“You don’t like it…” Charlie looked disappointed, the girl chewing her lip.
Seeing her sad made Matthew glance around to find the cause - realizing, at last, his room had been wallpapered in soft cornflower blue.
Once Matthew let out a deep breath, the tension visibly easing from his brother’s shoulders, Nathaniel called, “Eli, come on downstairs now.”
The youngest Emerson hightailed it out the door, praying Matthew would not be too hard on Miss Charlie. Hell, both of them had tried to talk her out of it, but she’d threatened to break in and do it with or without help.
When they were alone, Charlie timidly stepped closer. “I went to Charleston to get everything so no one in town would gossip.”
Pale eyes looked from the subtle vertical pattern in the paper, landing right on her paint-smeared face. “Why did you do this?”
Wringing her hands, trying hard to meet his eye, she said, “It’s plain to see that you are so caught up in taking care of your family that you don’t spend any time seeing to your own comfort. So, I decided to step in and do it for you. As a thank you, of sorts, for allowing me to stay in town, giving me shelter when I got caught in that storm, tending my ankle… kicking the shit out of the Grimes boys. I thought,” she stammered, realizing how lamely she was explaining herself, “I thought - I hoped - you might enjoy waking up to see something beautiful.”
The tips of his ears went bright red, the man stuck for something to say.
Looking back to the newly decorated walls, Charlie added, “I made sure the wallpaper wasn’t prissy - something masculine and soothing. I saw this and thought of you.” She tried to be funny, “I don’t imagine the Matthew Emerson would like walls covered in flowers.”
He cleared his throat and let his eyes leave her face, forcing himself to look again at what she’d done. Everything about the room seemed different, lighter… comfortable.
Taking his silence for approval, Charlie went back to whitewashing the window frame, determined to finish.
“Would you have picked something, uhhh,” the tightness in his throat was making it near impossible to speak, “something different for yourself?”
He saw her smile, those sapphire eyes focused on making short, concise strokes. “I like what I chose for you.”
Without another word, Matthew turned around and left the room. After plodding down the stairs, he passed the others, Eli piping up that they told her not to do it before Nathaniel thwacked the kid.
Ignoring them both, Matthew went straight into his office and closed the door. Burying his nose deep into his ledger, he tried to focus on his accounts, but couldn’t stop thinking about what was happening upstairs. Conflicted over the whole thing, especially how he’d reacted when he thought she was up there making love to Eli with all that squealing and giggling, he groaned.
The golden girl, the one he’d danced with and kissed only the morning before had gone to Charleston and chosen nice wallpaper just for him. Granted, Matthew didn’t know much about decorating, but he did know such things had to be special ordered. She’d organized everything at least a week ago, before he’d kissed her. That’s where she’d been when she disappeared. And the little vixen had brought his kin reluctantly on board. No wonder Nathaniel had been dragging his ass all day; his brother was supposed to keep him away so Charlotte could finish the surprise - the surprise he’d gone and ruined in a temper.
Knowing he should talk to her, he stood from his chair and opened the office door. Nathaniel and Eli were sitting at the counter, each eating a slice of pie. Paying them no mind, Matthew moved towards the stairs.
“She’s already gone, Matthew.” Though his mouth was full, Nathaniel’s words were clear. “But she left you something. I’ll keep it if you don’t want it.”
Brows low, Matthew found a half-eaten pie and three small boxes, one with his name scribbled on top. It was bursting with cookies.
Eli explained, “Charlie made the cookies, Ruth made the pie.”
Picking up what looked like a snickerdoodle, Matthew took a cautious bite. The scowl fell right off his face. They were his mama’s recipe, and damn good.
“You’re as shocked as we were,” Nathaniel chuckled, reaching to snag a cookie from Matthew’s box, only to have his hand slapped away. “Especially considering that woman could hardly fry an egg or toast bread.”
Leaving Monroe for a few days could not have come at a better time. Charlie had blundered badly with Matthew, clearly overstepping his boundaries, and was unsure how to go about fixing the broken fence. Chicago would give her an opportunity to get her head on straight. Besides, a few days of being spoiled by the luxurious Drake Hotel would be a wonderful distraction.
After a long soak in the claw foot tub and a lazy afternoon nap, she sat at the dressing table, fluffing her hair into what the magazines claimed was height of Chicago style. By the time she strolled through the gilded lobby, her satin gown set aglow by the Drake’s crystal chandeliers, Charlie actually felt… pretty.
No. She felt glamorous. A real sophisticated woman.
It was surreal to be in her city, to be in such a fine dress, to be Charlotte Elliot and not Blackbird.
The Radcliffe contingent was already there, early, no doubt, due to Martha’s need to always be a step ahead.
It was striking to see her, the wife of Beaumont Radcliffe elegantly attired in velvet, the shade of blue contrasting beautifully with mahogany hair. Standing next to the tuxedoed lynchpin, Martha seemed grand - a queen surrounded by her court.
When the woman’s eyes passed right over Charlie, Beau leaned down to his wife and teased, “She’s right in front of ya, toots.”
“It’s been a long time, Martha,” Charlie stammered, easing closer, mesmerized by every unchanged detail of a face she knew by heart - Martha’s high cheekbones, arched brows, and warm chocolate eyes exactly as she remembered.
Martha’s jaw practically hit the floor. Eyes bugging out of her skull, the older woman looked over what had once been a skinny, bruised up child. “Dear god! I would never have recognized you in a million years!” The woman took Charlie’s hands and spread them wide so she might look her over. “And you have breasts.”
Beaumont coughed to cover his laugh, his men snickering behind him.
“Ummm, yeah,” Charlie managed, blushing scarlet.
Martha wasn’t the only one taking notice. Swaggering nearer, Tommy pitched in. “You look very beautiful, Lottie.”
Before Charlie could offer an off-putting reply, Martha linked their arms, chatting brightly as she led Charlie off to the ballroom.
The best tables were reserved, boasting a grand view of the big band assembled onstage. Beaumont’s goons settled in, but the Radcliffes and their guest dined separately, Charlie disappointed when Tommy slipped into the plush booth right next to her.
“So, Lottie,” Beaumont popped open a bottle of champagne, “You’re Martha’s niece should anyone ask.”
“Aww, shucks.” Charlie batted her eyelashes and took the proffered glass. “You made me family.”
The infamous wicked grin she knew so well curved up Beau’s mouth. “I did, kid. It should help keep you out of trouble.”
“Doubtful.” The corner of Charlie’s lips twitched. “You must want something.”
“I don’t remember you being so mouthy as a kid,” Tommy interjected, leaning back against the soft cushion, his arm draped across the top of Charlie’s seat.
“I just didn’t like you is all.” She sipped her champagne and added for good measure, “You were a little prick.”
“Charlotte!” Martha slapped her arm. “That’s not how a lady talks.”
The sting brought back the memory of the dozens of times Martha had smacked her over the years for mouthing off. Snickering, Charlie looked to the woman and apologized, trying not to snort when Beaumont winked.
“Come on then, Lottie.” Light gleamed off Tommy’s sculpted blonde hair, the man standing to offer a hand. “Let start over. Have a dance with me?”
“I should warn you.” Charlie made a face, but took his hand anyway. “I don’t dance very well.”
“Not a problem, little girl. I am a strong leader.”
And he was. Surrounded by other couples, Tommy kept his hands firm on her body, leading Charlie with subtle cues that made it almost easy. But when she stepped on his foot for the third or fourth time he rolled his eyes and teased. “Since they’re already scuffed, you may as well climb up on my shoes and let me do all the work.”
Not one to back down, Charlie let him pull her closer, plopped her toes on his laces, and burst out laughing when Tommy waltzed her around the floor in big showy circles. When the band hit its zenith, Tommy leaned her back, dipping her low to the floor, Charlie laughing and laughing when the world went upside-down.
Feeling the flex of arms pull her up and hold her close, Tommy exercising the same practiced smirk she’d seen him give countless women over the years, Charlie lost her grin.
“You do look very pretty. Little Blackbird all grown up.” Tommy reached up, eyes warm as he smoothed a stray curl. “I’m glad you wore the dress I sent you.”
She’d thought the Radcliffes had sent the dress. But, of course Tommy had; the man was a cad who would have pegged her size with one glance. Snarky, Charlie shrugged him off. “Why didn’t you sign the card?”
Grinning and honest, he admitted, “I wasn’t sure if you’d wear it, and I did want a glimpse of what you had hidden all those years.”
“Had I known it was from you, it would have gone straight into the fire.” Her hand went to straighten his bowtie, the small strip of cloth twisted to strangle him just enough to make a point. “Like I said before, I don’t much like you.”
“You’re warming up to me.”
Charlie rolled her eyes. “You must be nuts.”
Tommy’s palm came to rest on her bare lower back, a smug smirk on his face as the man led her through the crowd. Back at the table they found Martha conveniently scurrying off to powder her nose, leaving Beaumont alone with Charlie once the mobster waved Tommy away.
The setup was about as subtle as a train whistle.
“So just what the hell have you been doing all these years?” Beaumont asked, striking a match to light the customary cigarette he enjoyed during interrogations.
“This and that…” Charlie put her weight on her forearms, leaning closer. “I also kept my eye on you whenever I passed through town.”
“Yeah?” He shook the match and puffed the rolled tobacco.
“Yeah.” She cocked her head. “October, 1927 at Cicero. Did you think those bullets magically fell from the sky to take out Capone’s men when they had you cornered?”
“I should have known it was my little Blackbird.” A dangerous smirk appeared. “Why didn’t you say hello?”
“I think you know why, and you can ask me about it all you want, Beau, but I ain’t gonna say shit. Just be grateful I took the time when I caught wind of what was going down.”
“Keep your secrets.” Beaumont Radcliffe didn’t get where he was by being a stupid man. The look in his eyes communicated he knew, at least in part, what she’d been doing with her time. A puff of smoke escaped his mouth, the man slyly adding, “Damn good to have you back though.”
Charlie, unintimidated by the fixed determination in her old mentor’s gaze, warned him, “I’m retired, Beau. Prohibition won’t last forever and there is no way in hell I’ll be involved in any of the other works the mobsters of Chicago fuck around with. I’m tired of all that shit.”
Beau’s eyes held a trace of pity and a far larger manifestation of resolve. “I know you are, kid.”
“Then let me live in peace.”
“I know you, Blackbird. You’ll get bored of it, the quiet life.” The cigarette dangled from his lips. “Settle down here where you can keep one toe in the action.” His finger tapped the table. “Get married, have some kids.”
“Nice try, Beau, but men aren’t going to line up to tie the knot with the bastard daughter of Ronnie Pearson and a mad whore.”
“No.” He nodded in agreement, blue eyes watching her closely. “But they’ll want to marry the kin of Beaumont Radcliffe. Doesn’t hurt that you grew up beautiful neither.”
“Beau, give me a break. Do you really think I would take orders from some man? Some gangster? I would probably end up killing the guy and hangin for it.”
“You took orders from me for years,” he stated with pride, settling lazily back in his chair.
Charlie’s face softened, she gave him a dopey grin. “That was different. I love you.”
“You were a good kid.”
She knew where she stood. “You’re only sayin that cause I’m a dead shot with a gun.”
“It didn’t hurt.”
They both started laughing, the undercurrent of tension fading just in time for Martha’s return. Standing so the scheming couple could talk about the little interlude, Charlie excused herself so she might powder her nose too.
He’d managed to find a spot at the bar running the length of the crowded ballroom. Steady, he took in every face, Matthew sipping on overpriced whiskey and watching for any sign of trouble. It was the same he’d seen at any watering hole - voices got loud, smiles and tempers growing larger. Only at the Drake, the consumers were all dressed in fancy clothes and wearing perfume.
His position offered barely any glimpses of her profile or the chiseled face of the clean-shaven man turned towards her. From the moment he saw Tommy smiling at her, wearing the leer of a man thinking only one thing, Matthew wanted to rip the pretty boy’s goddamn head off.
The crystal tumbler went back to Matthew’s mouth, ice clanking against the glass as he drained it. He’d watched her dance with the prick - glowing, laughing, while the gangster pulled her close enough their bodies touched. When Tommy had bent her back over his arm like some goddamn prince charming, Matthew was sorely tempted to walk right over and yank her away.
“Matthew?” Sultry and timid, dulcet and cool - the practiced voice of a flirtatious woman - a voice he never thought he’d hear again, cut through his murderous thoughts. “Matthew, what are you doing here?”
Charlie was still bent over Tommy’s arm, laughing in the distance, but Matthew could no longer see her, his line of vision blocked by the beauty of Alice.
She was dressed in the short sequined uniform of a cocktail waitress, all her dark hair styled and smooth.
The way she caressed his arm and leaned nearer, the warmth in her smile... it was just how she’d used to look at him when she’d come to work at the grill.
“Look at you. All spruced up in a fine suit.” Dark eyes gave him a proper once over. “A regular gentleman.”
Jesus H. Christ.
“Excuse me, Alice.” Leaning a bit to the side, Matthew found no sign of the golden girl on the dance floor. Pale eyes darted around, looking for a flash of blonde in the crowd. The second he saw Charlotte seated alone with Radcliffe, Matthew was not certain if he was relieved or concerned - especially considering the aggressive set of Charlotte’s shoulders. But it seemed she was holding her own, not at all intimidated by a man Matthew knew was nothing but bad.
Alice took his behavior for shyness and reached up, cupping his freshly shaved cheek to entice his attention. To soothe him, Alice purred, “Was it fate, or did you come looking for me?”
Taking her wrist and removing her hand from his face, Matthew explained, “I’m here on business.”
She smirked, shaking her head. “Then let’s mix it with pleasure. My shift ends in an hour. Stick around and I’ll take you to the best place in the city for coffee.”
Matthew gave a noncommittal grunt, too busy once he realized Charlotte was gone again to notice Alice saunter away. Again, the golden girl had disappeared. He let out a breath, glaring at the crowd that kept swallowing her up. Then there she was, her head down, walking right towards him.
That dress… the satin flowed over each dip and curve, revealing more of Charlotte’s body with each step she took nearer. It was impossible to miss the hungry looks of other men, how they openly stared at her rear and draped bosom. He hated it. Fisting his hands, knuckles cracking, Matthew leveled a death glare on the most forward gawkers, missing the look of outrage the golden girl pointed right at him the instant she spotted the interloping Emerson in the crowd.