Flirting with Fortune. Leanne Banks

scanned the close confines of the attic, his gaze skipping past Ruth and Tucker. He turned his back to Tucker, who was grateful to be out of range of the waving pistol, and faced the woman who had called for help.

      “What’s the matter, Ruthie? Did you see a mouse again?”

      “No, I saw a rat,” she said, pointing past Eldon, “and he’s standing right behind you.”

      Brooke did an about-face and returned to the stairs. “Gross! I’m outta here.”

      Curious onlookers blocked her retreat. Tucker peered down the stairs as Eldon aimed the gun at Aunt Shirley’s trunk. Sure enough, there in the hall stood Aunt Shirley and the rest of the guests.

      Ruth tugged Eldon’s sleeve in an effort to regain his attention. “I wasn’t talking about a rat rat. I was referring to a person rat.”

      “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

      Once again, Eldon looked past Tucker as he searched for an intruder.

      “Him!” Ruth stepped closer and patted Tucker’s arm. “This rat.”

      Obviously confused now, Eldon stuffed the gun into his waistband. “Cousin Tucker? What’d he do?”

      “Good grief, Ruth,” piped in her older sister, “if you go with a guy to the attic, you really can’t complain if he gets fresh with you.”

      Ruth sighed a huge breath of exasperation. “He didn’t get fresh.”

      “Sounds like they need some mesh,” said Boris from his vantage point in the hall.

      Aunt Shirley patted his hand. “Turn up your hearing aid, dear.”

      By now, Ruth’s face had turned a becoming shade of pink. Tucker wasn’t sure whether that was from the cold or from her anger at having found him here. He rather liked Vivian’s interpretation of the current scenario and briefly wondered if Ruth would consider an invitation to come back up here with him later. He looked over at her and saw that the sleepy expression in her eyes had been replaced by barely suppressed fury. Maybe now wouldn’t be a good time to suggest such a rendezvous.

      “I didn’t come with him to the attic, I found him here.” She pointed an accusing finger at Tucker’s chest. “This man is an imposter. He came here, pretending to be a part of the family, just so he could rip us off.”

      “Family? What family?” Tucker took a step toward Ruth, ducking to avoid the noggin-hazard beam. When Eldon touched a hand to his waistband, Tucker figured he’d better start talking. Fast. “Look, I can explain everything.”

      “Great,” said Ruth. “Then you can begin by explaining exactly where you fit into the Babcock family reunion.”

      “I don’t know who the Babcocks are, or anything about their family reunion. I just came here for some peace and quiet.”

      “Ha!” Ruth whirled to face the others. “See, I told you he wasn’t our cousin.”

      “You’re right,” said Vivian. “If he knew anything at all about our family, he wouldn’t have come here for peace and quiet.”

      Tucker scratched his head and took a seat on the old trunk. “You folks are all family?” At their affirmative nods, he asked, “Then what are you doing here at a bed-and-breakfast inn?”

      The fiercely determined expression on Ruth’s face dissolved into confusion. “This place hasn’t been a bed-and-breakfast inn for almost eight years.”

      “But the Newlands, they sold it…”

      “Right,” said Ruth, “and when the inn went broke three years later, Aunt Shirley bought it. We’ve been having our Christmas reunions here ever since.”

      “You mean you’re not our cousin after all?” Vivian asked. Ruth could have sworn she saw an interested gleam in her sister’s eyes.

      Tucker shook his head. Now that Chris Newland and his parents were gone… “I don’t have any family.”

      “And you’re spending Christmas alone?” Ruth asked, temporarily forgetting about his being a potential thief as she imagined him spending the holiday by himself.

      “That was the plan.” He rose from his perch on the trunk. “I’m really sorry about crashing your reunion. I’ll go gather my things and get out of your way.”

      Aunt Shirley hollered up into the attic. “Where will you go? The motels around here must be full.”

      He leaned forward to peer down at the speaker. “Yes, ma’am, they are. I’ll just go back to my apartment in the city.”

      “And who would you spend Christmas with?” Ruth asked.

      Tucker shrugged. “I’ll probably just go to work at the office. It’s amazing how much you can get done when no one else is around.”

      “You’re not going to spend Christmas alone.” Aunt Shirley’s words were an order. “You’re going to stay right here and celebrate the season with us.”

      “That’s very kind of you, ma’am, but I really don’t belong here.”

      Ruth rubbed her arms to ward off the chill as she forced herself to remember that this stranger was an unwanted intruder. “You’re right about that. And you still haven’t explained why you were snooping through Aunt Shirley’s attic.”

      “We’re letting all the heat from the house up here,” he said. “Why don’t we go downstairs, and I’ll be happy to answer your questions.”

      As the family members moved down the stairs, Ruth said to Eldon, “I think you should frisk him before he leaves this attic. There’s no telling what he may have found before I caught him.”

      Tucker couldn’t blame her for feeling this way. He’d be suspicious, too, if some stranger showed up on his doorstep and rummaged through his belongings.

      “I ain’t friskin’ Cousin Tucker!”

      Downstairs in the parlor, ten pairs of eyes studied the stranger who sat in their midst. They had just finished telling him about their initial assumption that he was a long-lost cousin. Now they were waiting for his explanation.

      They were nice people. He doubted he’d be as understanding if someone had infiltrated his home. Ruth’s reaction was closer to what his own would be, except that she didn’t have the strength to pick him up and literally throw him out of the house. Instead, she sat there throwing daggers with her eyes. She was skeptical, and he didn’t blame her. He plucked a strand of tinsel off the tree and toyed with it as he collected his thoughts.

      “I started coming to Willow Glen Plantation when I was ten,” he began. In the next few minutes, he explained how he’d come to consider the Newlands his family and this big old house his own. He’d thought that by returning here he could relive some happy memories.

      Ruth still wasn’t convinced. The others were hanging on his every word, but she’d learned not to take everything at face value. For instance, his claim of being a high-ranking corporate executive clashed sharply with the leather- and jeans-clad interloper who had barged uninvited into their home. What she couldn’t understand was why the rest of her family couldn’t see what she saw. And why hadn’t they learned from Aunt Shirley’s earlier bad experiences? “What about the attic?”

      “I’m getting to that.”

      That piece of tinsel was getting wound around his fingers, weaving and curving in just the way she suspected the speaker was winding her own trusting family around those same fingers.

      “Chris Newland was my best friend,” he said. “He was like a brother to me. The year we turned eleven, we decided to make it official by becoming blood brothers. We signed a pact, put it in an envelope and sealed it with our blood.” He turned to Ruth. “That’s what I was looking for in the attic. We hid it under a loose board.”

      He