The path led into a clearing that sloped gently downward to a fairly broad
stream. There in an area of tall weeds was a rough plank shack in the shade of a
lone oak tree, and half a dozen tents of strange colors, shapes and sizes, looking
like a fairy ring of mushrooms with attitudes. The place appeared to be deserted.
All I need, she reflected as she caught her breath, is to be stuck out
here in the middle of nowhere alone.
Hal had warned her his brother was not above capriciously taking off
into the hills with a backpack for days on end. If that were the situation she
confronted, he'd advised her to turn around and go back to Asheville immediately,
and they would retrench and rethink.
That prospect was the most attractive she'd faced since she'd driven from
Atlanta to Asheville the day before to visit Hal in his hospital room.
She took a few more steps through the tall grasses and decided she had to do
something. Planting her feet firmly where she was, she gathered her strength.
"Yoo-hoo," she called, the way she'd heard an old housekeeper on her block
call the neighbor children in to dinner. "Mr. Jacobs? Are you here?"
She listened for a long moment, but all she heard was the wind sighing
through the pines and the slight murmuring of the stream. Between searching for
the nerve to holler again or the energy to turn and tramp back through the trees to
her car and some trace of civilization, Penny stared at the collection of tents,
feeling alone, very alone.
"Who wants to know?" a deep voice challenged, roaring from somewhere and
filling the clearing with an echo.
A mountain of a man appeared from just beyond the farthest tent, the sun
gleaming off his sun-bleached hair and beard. Miles Jacobs' shoulders strained
the tan shirt he wore, and his legs, beneath hiking shorts, were sturdily muscled
and covered with a nebulous glinting of hair.
"Ah--your brother Hal sent me to--find you," Penny stammered, still winded
from her walk.
"Yeah?" he asked, skeptically, closing the space between them with long
strides.
Penny gripped her briefcase with both hands in front of her and braced herself
against the anger she felt radiating from him. Hal had warned her Miles' reaction to
being interrupted would not be pretty. She just hoped he'd had his distemper
shots.
"Your brother Hal--ah--fell from a horse Saturday and is in a hospital in
Asheville," Penny explained quickly, before Miles could get too close. "He's going
to be fine, but it means you'll have to take his place at the trade shows for the next
three weeks, and he hired me to--help you get ready."
"He did, did he?" Miles asked, stopping in front of her and clamping his broad
hands on his lean hips. "And what is it he thinks you have to do to get me ready to
go to the...trade shows?"
"Hal discussed your...ah...clothing and appearance, your manner
of...ah...speaking and your familiarity with soliciting and writing up orders from
clients," Penny said, trying valiantly to remember the important points of the long
conversation she'd had with Hal the day before. All the while, the dark hazel eyes
of the man in front of her bored into her with palpable intimidation.
It was hard to realize Hal and Miles Jacobs were of the same parentage. Hal,
in physical pain in the hospital had nonetheless been every inch the Southern
gentleman, cultured and articulate in his speaking, and acutely organized in his
mental processes. Miles, on the other hand, seemed to barely retain his grasp on
civility.