Клэр Донелли - Hiss And Tell

“Uncle Cale said you could meet him in the parking area with the golf carts in, say, half an hour. Is that okay?”

“Yes, I’ll be done and ready.” Sunny watched Cillie set off down the hallway, and then shut the door. She returned to her computer, and sent an e-mail to Ken that her blog post was ready to go. Then she got out her cell phone. Her dad sounded as if he’d been roused from a nap, but he was happy to hear from her. “Are you going to be discontented with your old room now that you’ve been sleeping in the lap of luxury?” Mike teased.

“The furniture in my old room is probably newer than the stuff in here,” she told him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I had a salad supper last night, afraid the food police would come in and bust me if I had a hamburger.” Mike paused. “You’re missed—not just by me, but by your furry friend. He’s been moping around, barely touching his food. Spends most of his time by the living-room window. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was watching for you.”

“Shadow was pretty upset when I left,” Sunny said. “But that sounds more like dog behavior. Something that I’d expect from Toby—except he’d probably chew off the windowsill while he was waiting.”

Mike laughed, but his heart wasn’t in it. “That dumb dog,” he growled.

“But I wasn’t calling to make cracks about Toby,” Sunny said. “I have to come home and get some more clothes. The de Kruks are arriving tomorrow, and apparently that means the dress code gets stricter.”

“Well, I’ll be glad to see you,” Mike told her. “As for the furball, we’ll just wait and see.”

About twenty minutes later, Sunny walked along the path that led to the miniature parking lot with the golf carts and found Caleb Kingsbury leaning against one. “I hope we’re not climbing aboard that jalopy to go into town,” she told him. “It’s a little open for my taste.”

He laughed. “No, the real cars are over there.” He pointed into the distance. “But I figured it was easier to meet you here than give directions.” He and Sunny strolled along in the direction he’d pointed. Clothes on her mind, Sunny noticed that Cale himself was wearing a faded T-shirt and a pair of disreputable cargo shorts. The only decent things on him were a new-looking pair of Top-Siders.

“I see you’ve dressed to meet your public,” Sunny said as they reached an area, shaded by trees, where several town cars were parked.

He turned with a grin. “What, I’m not fancy enough to go to a wholesaler’s to buy beer?”

There’s one local business I can’t link to this wedding, Sunny thought. A source for champagne, maybe, but a beer supplier—no. Cale Kingsbury wasn’t finished yet. “Did Cillie mention that you’re expected to download an official set of rules for this beer pong tournament?”

“Wonderful.” Sunny rolled her eyes. “I only said that as a joke, you know, and now it seems to have taken on a life of its own.”

“Oh, just go with the flow,” Cale told her with another grin. “So many places have their own house rules. This will avoid arguments.”

Which you don’t want when there’s a lot of beer being consumed, Sunny silently agreed. “Okay.” She sighed. “I’ll take care of that after I come back from upgrading my wardrobe.”

“Oh, right. Got to clean up for the de Kruks.” Cale looked down at his grungy outfit. “I know I have one suit aboard the Merlin . Hope I’ve got some other presentable stuff stowed away. Otherwise, I’ll have to dig out something that’s been sitting around for God knows how many years.” He patted his stomach. “Will it still fit?”

“More to the point, will you be able to get the smell of mothballs out?”

“Maybe if I hang them from a yardarm in the fresh air,” he said as he bypassed the shiny black town cars for a much humbler and nondescript station wagon. Jingling the keys, Cale opened the passenger side door. He handed Sunny in like the practiced gentleman he was, then went around to the driver’s side and climbed aboard. Inside the enclosed space, Sunny got a strong whiff of Cale’s cologne and grimaced unintentionally. He instantly looked contrite. “A little too much? I’d been working up a sweat on the boat and splashed some on.”

More like bathed in it, Sunny’s cranky side suggested.

“It’s an interesting scent,” she said aloud.

“It’s sandalwood, and a bunch of other spices. I’ve worn it for years, ever since a lady friend bought it for me at a little place in Paris. My father gives me grief about it. To him all a gentleman needs is a discreet dab of bay rum.”

“Well, times change,” Sunny said.

He started the car, and soon they were passing the troopers and the roadblock. Some people suddenly darted at them from across the street, and Sunny saw the cameras a second too late. She noticed that Cale had arranged one hand to cover the bottom half of his face.

Great, she thought. They probably got me with my mouth hanging open.

“Sorry, should have warned you,” he apologized. “I keep forgetting you’re not used to this, being from the other side.”

“You make it sound like the dark side,” she said.

“I guess it’s all in the way you see it,” Cale replied. “How is it going, by the way? Cillie seems to like you.”

“And that’s even before I suggested a nice round of beer pong.”

Cale refused to be deflected. “How about the others?” he asked. “I saw Tommy Neal giving you the ‘I’m too important to notice you’ routine yesterday. Is he acting a bit more human today? Is Beau?”

“I’m still wondering if I’ll ever get to see Beau fully awake,” Sunny replied.

“He strikes me as a nice kid. So does Carson.”

Sunny nodded. “He and Priscilla seem to get along well.”

“Yeah, that’s a pleasant dividend when they’re trapped in something more like a business merger than an engagement.” Caleb frowned.

Sunny glanced at him.

“Not for attribution,” he said.

She nodded, but pushed. “You’re suggesting . . .”

“I’m suggesting that Augustus de Kruk finally realized he’s carrying too much baggage to ever be president.” Cale shook his head. “I think he finally got the point at one of those political dinners. He wasn’t up on the dais to be roasted, but it seemed like every speaker sent a zinger his way. For a guy who spends a lot of time on television, he was lousy at acting as though it was all in good fun. Carson, on the other hand, came off looking pretty good on Augustus’s reality shows. Not just a pretty face, either—he gave the impression of being a capable executive.”

“So you think Augustus has decided to set things up for Carson, politically?” Sunny asked.

“He’s not going to have the boy run for office next Tuesday, but yeah, I suspect Augustus went looking for a little political oomph to add to Carson’s image. And as it turned out, we Kingsburys had a girl who was the right age.” Cale turned to her, his face dead serious. “My father is no spring chicken anymore, and he’s determined to have his blood in the White House before he goes. He’d rather it was one of her brothers, but he’s old-fashioned enough not to even seriously consider Cillie for the starring role. He’ll settle for First Lady. So yeah, it’s not a shotgun wedding, but Cillie and Carson were strongly encouraged.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing they like one another.” Sunny sighed. “Was it this way in Camelot?”

“You mean the Kennedys and the Bouviers?” Cale asked. “I’ve heard stories—”

Sunny waved that off. “No, no, I meant Arthur and Guinevere. Although maybe all that dynastic stuff would have seemed a lot more natural, way back when.”