Freddy hired him, added the Mr. to his name, and two weeks later they were inseparable companions.
Over the many years, Uncle Freddy—as he became known to everyone—had helped a lot of people. He gave them jobs on the old plantation that seemed to devour money. And he listened to them. In fact, he lived by the belief that most problems could be fixed by people genuinely listening to each other.
He developed contacts in law enforcement, social services, with clergy. He learned who to ask for help with any problem.
The only aspect of his life where he wasn’t successful was in keeping a housekeeper-cook. No one lasted very long. The house was too big, there were too many mouths to feed, et cetera. The longest anyone had lasted was three years. That was Margaret and she had stayed because Uncle Freddy gave her the summers off.
Three years ago Uncle Freddy’s distant cousin William, his wife, Nina, and their two-year-old daughter, Ruth, came for the summer. Bill taught physics at an eastern college and Nina was a housewife. The idea was that for the whole summer, Bill would work with some local boys in cleaning up the acres around the old house and tending the orchard and vegetable garden. Nina would cook, can, and freeze anything that grew. In the fall, they’d go back east and Margaret would return from her sister’s place in Alabama to a pantry full of food that she didn’t have to prepare.
It had all worked perfectly for about a month, then Summer Hill’s Dr. Everett Chapman came to check on Uncle Freddy. His wife had some church meeting, so the doctor took his two-year-old son Kyle with him. Nina said she’d watch the kids so the men could visit.
The children disappeared. They just plain vanished. Half the town joined in the search for them. After eight hours of looking and no sign of the children, the families, the entire town, were sick with worry.
But then the kids came down from the attic, dirty and covered in cobwebs. They were hungry.
That night there were some serious lectures and threats given to the children—but they made no difference.
The next day when young Kyle saw Mr. Gates’s red truck go by, he sneaked out of the house. The child climbed in the back and hid behind the bags of cracked corn.
His parents found him at Tattwell with Ruth. “Let him stay,” Uncle Freddy said.
Mrs. Chapman, who was pregnant and feeling awful, agreed that Kyle could stay for two nights. When she lost the baby, she was so depressed and weak that she went to Tennessee to stay with her mother for what came to be the rest of the summer. Kyle moved into one of the many bedrooms at Tattwell so his father would be free to take care of the medical needs of the town.
The next summer Kyle’s parents were trying for another baby and after the boy sneaked off three times in two days, they agreed to let him stay at Tattwell. That was the summer Ruth said that from now on she was to be called Princess Colette, and Kyle was Ace. Her title was shortened to Letty, and the names stuck.
This was the third year the children were spending the summer together at Tattwell. Letty stayed with her parents in what had once been the old kitchen, while Ace had his own room upstairs in the Big House.
On the surface, this summer looked like the others, but three weeks ago, Nina had slipped on the bathtub and broken her right forearm. She couldn’t do the huge amount of cooking that she usually did in the summer. She couldn’t tend the big vegetable garden and put up all those quarts of beans and tomatoes, or make gallons of applesauce for the winter. And if all that prepared food wasn’t waiting for Margaret when she got back, she just might stay in Alabama. Then what would the men do?
But what had really changed was that little Ace’s mother was dying of ovarian cancer.
When Olivia was told this, she knew she couldn’t deal with such grief. It wasn’t something she knew about. Mr. Gates said she should just be kind to the children, but yesterday the kids had run through the clean sheets hanging on the line and knocked half of them into the dirt. She’d seen the girl wearing her favorite silk scarf—which meant that the children had been in her bedroom going through her things. Olivia asked Uncle Freddy for a key to the lock on her bedroom door but he’d laughed. None of the doors had been locked in a century or more. “Maybe not since the Yankees came through here,” Mr. Gates said, and the two old men had laughed together.
All in all, the three days she’d been at Tattwell were more than she could handle. Bratty kids, old men who found everything amusing, trying to cook—something she had no aptitude for—and having no contact with the world of theater overwhelmed her. Drained her.
“Better save a can of soup for Kit,” Mr. Gates said without looking up.
It took Olivia a moment to realize that he was talking to her. “Who is that?” Her frown deepened. If it was another person for her to take care of, she might start screaming.
The kids came out of their food trance. “He’s tall,” Letty said.
“He’s strong,” Ace said.
Olivia narrowed her eyes at Uncle Freddy. “Who is this?”
“He...” Uncle Freddy swallowed. “He’s from Maine, the son of a relative on my mother’s side. His father called me and said young Kit needed a place to spend the summer, so I...” He didn’t have the courage to admit what he’d done.
Olivia put her hands on her hips and went toward him. With him in a wheelchair, she was a great deal taller than he was. “Summer? You have added a man to my workload? Without asking me?”
“Well,” Mr. Gates said, “at nineteen, he’s hardly—”
“Nineteen!” Olivia nearly shouted. “You want me to take care of a nineteen-year-old boy? Do you have any idea how much they eat? I’ll be cooking in vats. Roasting whole turkeys for lunch. I’ll have to—” She took a breath. “I’m not going to do it,” she said to the two old men. “I’m going to go to work for Abigail Harding at her dress shop.”
The children had stopped chewing and were looking from one adult to another, their eyes wide. This was the kind of grown-up drama they usually weren’t allowed to hear.
Uncle Freddy twisted around to look out the screen door. “There he is now.”
“That boy can work!” Mr. Gates said. “He didn’t get here until one a.m.” He glanced up at Olivia. “I guess you slept through his arrival, but then, Ace and I were trying to be quiet. Out of respect for you, Livie.” He looked back at Uncle Freddy. “And the boy was up before daylight. He took a hand sickle to those old briars at the back. I’ve been meaning to do that for about ten years.”
“Bill said he’d never seen a harder worker than that kid,” Uncle Freddy said.
Olivia knew the old codgers were trying to coax her into staying, but it wasn’t going to work. She glared at them. “I was told I was to cook for two people. That’s all. But half of Summer Hill plops down in this kitchen and I’m supposed to serve them. And now you’re dumping a teenage boy on me? Have you two thought about his being around the children? He’ll have girls here and...and marijuana. It’s what all the kids do now.”
With each word, the children’s eyes got wider. They expected that at any moment someone would tell them to leave, but no one did. “You have to tell him,” Uncle Freddy said to her.
“Yes, you have to tell Kit to...” Mr. Gates waved his hand. “Tell him to eat somewhere else or you’re leaving. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Olivia knew they were up to something but she didn’t know what. Maybe they thought that she wouldn’t have the courage to stand up for herself. Or, heaven help her, maybe they thought that at twenty-two, she was the same age as the boy.
With determination in her eyes, she went to the screen door and flung it open. She was ready to confront the kid, tell him he’d have to find somewhere else to eat.
He was, as Letty said, tall, over six feet, and he was wearing next to nothing. The upper half of him was nude, while an old pair of khakis hung low on his hips. She could see the V-shape that moved d
ownward. The pant legs had been cut off so short they barely covered his backside.
He was at the old water pump, soaping his naked chest, running his long-fingered hands over his body and through his thick black hair.
She stood in the doorway, unable to move, as he raised a bucket of water over his head and poured it over his body. She watched the rivulets make their way down.
His body, Olivia thought—or rather felt. She’d had no idea the human body could look like that: lean and muscular, with curves and planes that moved when he did. His stomach!
Muscles divided on each side like rows for planting. He had arms like a sculpture, legs with heavy thighs, calves like tree branches. The tiny bit of clothing he was wearing hung very low. She could see his hip bones.
Never in her life had she seen anything as beautiful as that man’s body.
She didn’t realize it, but she took a step back. Even though she was some distance from him, it was as though she could feel the raw, sexual heat of him. He was like the inner circle of a volcano and he was drawing her to him. Pulling her.
When he bent to refill the bucket at the pump, she saw the muscles in his back. They were moving about, rippling. His glorious skin, seemingly acres of it, was beginning to brown in the summer sun. The sight of him was making her mouth and her fingertips ache; the center of her was pulsating.
Without blinking, she took another step back, then another. The door stayed open and she could see him as he poured a second bucket of water over that beautiful, divine body.
Behind her, the old men were working hard to contain their laughter.
Ace started to ask what was wrong with Livie, but the look Mr. Gates gave him shut him up. Ace looked at Letty, his eyes saying, This is getting more exciting by the minute.
She nodded in understanding. Yes!
Uncle Freddy was the one who saw the wooden truck on the floor. It was in Olivia’s backward path. With many years’ experience in a wheelchair, he whipped it around so he could bend down and grab the truck. He tossed it to Mr. Gates, then turned the chair just before Olivia would have stepped on him.
Mr. Gates put the truck on the table, but he never took his eyes off Olivia.
She only stopped moving when her back was against the far wall of the kitchen.
Straight ahead, through the open door, Kit was shaking water off his nearly nude body. He ran his hands through his thick hair, flinging droplets into the sunlight.
Olivia’s heart was pounding, her breath coming fast and hard. Had a cyclone torn through the kitchen at that moment, she wouldn’t have noticed.
It wasn’t until Kit stepped out of sight that she began to remember where she was. When she did come back to reality, it was with the precision of a military general. She turned toward the four people at the table, ignored the smirks of the old men, and looked at Letty. “Go tell him lunch will be served in thirty minutes.” She looked at Ace. “Get me four zucchini from the garden.”
The children didn’t move.
“We just had lunch,” Letty said.
“What zoo? I like the tigers best,” Ace said.
“We’re going to have a second lunch.” Olivia started grabbing the half-full dishes off the table. “And before you ask, you did not have a first one. Zucchini are those green plants you two use for space guns. Now go!”
The kids jumped up and ran to the door. “And keep him busy!” Olivia added.
Letty paused in the doorway. “What can he do?”
“Anything,” Olivia said under her breath, then louder, “Be yourselves. That should occupy him for an hour or so.”
Olivia looked back at the men whose expressions were smug. They may as well have tattooed I told you so across their foreheads. “One word and I’ll say you’ve already eaten.”
Instantly, their faces went into angelic repose. “What can we do to help?” Mr. Gates asked.
Olivia slapped a couple of old cutting boards on the table, two knives, and a pile of onions and potatoes. “Peel and chop,” she ordered. “And do it quickly. No storytelling about the good ole days.”
The men didn’t reply, just began cutting.
Olivia knew she was being ridiculous. Absurd, even, but... She had no excuse for her actions except the ringing in her ears, the vibrations of her body, the scrambled eggs that were her brain. It was as though something had gone off inside her. An alarm? No. More like a bomb.
She was at the kitchen window, frantically scraping carrots. Behind her were the old men and their silence filled the room. Usually, they occupied themselves by laughing at the world. But right now she could feel them looking across the table and wiggling their eyebrows.
Olivia would like to be aloof from what she was feeling, to be above it. But then, she looked out the window and saw him. The kids, true to form, were keeping him occupied by pestering him. Ace had tossed six zucchini at the back door, three of them broken in half, then he’d run back to be with Letty.
She was the talker, while Ace was all action. Letty had bombarded the tall young man with a thousand questions, never giving him time to answer. He was looking down at her with a smile of amusement.
In Olivia’s first look at him, she’d never noticed his face. He could have three eyes for all she’d seen. But now, when she saw his face, aristocrat was the word that came to her. Sharp cheekbones, eyes that weren’t round and open, but secretive, as though he didn’t want people to see what was in his mind. His nose was large, hawk-like.
All in all, Olivia could imagine him in a full-length portrait wearing the robes of a nobleman. In a play, he’d be the king.
Olivia picked up the zucchini. What was it her mother did with them? She wished she’d paid more attention to what went on in the kitchen. There was a cut-up chicken in the fridge.
She’d meant to use it tonight but...
She grabbed the chicken, threw it in a bowl with flour and lots of pepper, and heated a deep skillet full of oil. She could bread the zucchini and fry it. Too Southern! she thought. This guy was a Yankee so he’d probably be disdainful of all things from the South. He’d—
“Tomatoes,” Uncle Freddy said. Olivia didn’t at first hear him.
“Tomatoes,” Mr. Gates said louder. “This morning I saw Kit break off a ripe one and eat it like an apple. He said they were the best he’d ever tasted.”
Olivia handed him a big enamel bowl. “You can go get some. I’ll slice them.”
Mr. Gates put his hand to his back. “My sciatica has been bothering me a lot today. Livie, I think you should go get them.”
For a moment she blinked at the man. Go outside? Near him? She glanced down at her dress. It was old and had been washed many times. There was no reason to put on her New York clothes when all she saw were old men and kids. On the other hand, all the washings had made the cotton fabric shrink a bit—and fit tighter. Since she was a child, she’d taken dance lessons from Summer Hill’s only instructor. Ballet, jazz, tap, and every kick she’d ever done showed. While it was true that he looked glorious in his little shorts, Olivia knew that in her snug dress, she was a match for him.
Uncle Freddy and Mr. Gates were looking at her in an encouraging way. They meant for her to get the tomatoes. The fact that in the three days she’d been there she’d never once stepped foot in the big garden seemed to mean nothing.
Olivia set the bowl on the kitchen counter and picked up the pretty basket the children used for gathering eggs. Props were important.
She went to the door, then paused and looked back at the old men. They nodded to her.
Olivia straightened her shoulders and went outside. She did not look at the young man with the two laughing children. He was holding them with his long, muscled arms and washing their faces. Since Olivia had been there, no one had been able to catch them to wash them.
With her head high and her posture showing eve
ry second of her years of ballet, Olivia entered the vegetable garden. She was acutely aware that behind her the noise had stopped. The kids weren’t screaming in excited protest at having weeks of dirt removed from their smelly, sweaty little bodies.
She knew the young man was watching her, assessing her in the way she had him. As though she were playing a part, she sauntered into the garden and rather prettily skipped over a large cabbage plant. She saw that the tomatoes had nearly broken the vines. With her hands in classic ballet pose, she pulled off a few and put them in the basket.
“Hey!” Letty yelled. “That basket is for the eggs.”
Olivia took a breath. It was time to face him. Turning, she looked at them. The young man, almost naked, had a child under each arm, and he was staring at Olivia as though he’d never seen anything like her in his life.
Only through years of acting lessons was she able to conceal her emotions. She had to put her feet in a ballet position to keep from swaying toward him. “Perhaps,” she said slowly, “you could find another basket that I could use for produce.”
“What kind of juice?” Ace asked. He was tucked under the man’s arm like a sack of flour.
“Whatever you want,” Olivia said with an adoring smile. Finally, she looked up at the young man. I have to get this under control! she told herself. “Are you the boy who was hired to help around the estate?” Her voice was as adult as she could make it.
Kit nodded but didn’t speak.
“Perhaps you could tie up the tomatoes?” Again, he nodded in silence.
Olivia gave him her best smile. “Good. Luncheon will be in twenty minutes. I’ll call you.” She swept past him with all the dignity she could muster.
Uncle Freddy and Mr. Gates were in the doorway and she nearly tripped over the wheelchair. Behind them, the deep skillet was smoking and it looked like the fire had gone out under the other one.