That Carrington Magic

chapter 9



Dinner was nearly over when Jami noticed her son giggling and squirming in his chair. Toby sat between her and Raven McGuire. She knew he didn’t like Raven, so it had surprised Jami when he had chosen that seat.

With a sudden scream, the young widow jumped to her feet, sending her chair crashing backward into the dining room wall. “What slimy creature did you put on my lap, you wretched monster?” Raven hissed, her lavender eyes hard as she frantically brushed her dress.

“It’s just a frog,” Toby replied, squaring off with the furious woman.

“Toby Justice Rhodes!” Jami scolded, mortified at the rascal’s action. “Apologize to Mrs. McGuire and find that frog right now!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he muttered, sounding definitely not sorry.

“Ugh. I’ll probably get warts,” Raven exclaimed, still wiping her hands on her dress.

“Toads cause warts, not frogs,” Dottie clarified, unruffled by the commotion as Toby climbed around under the table, bumping into her knees.

“Neither frogs or toads give you warts. It’s just an old wives’ tale,” Doris added while nibbling on a buttered roll.

“Warts, ha! Pure conjecture with no scientific basis,” Professor Tolaski declared, not allowing the disturbance to interrupt his obvious enjoyment of the meal. Bits of food were held captive in his beard.

Raven stood with scarlet mouth open, going even paler than normal, as if the frog really did frighten her. Leaving her chair on the floor, she huffed, “I’d better not get warts from that creature.”

“I hope you didn’t give my frog warts.” Toby’s carrot-topped head popped above the table between Dottie and Doris. He held the bobbing green frog in his hands.

Staring at the frog, Raven screamed again.

The frog launched out of Toby’s hands and onto Doris’s lap. “Oh my!”

The frightened creature leaped from Doris to Dottie, who tried to grab it as Toby scrambled over everyone. Jami hadn’t noticed Grant move behind the table until he righted Raven’s chair and took hold of the widow’s gold-bangled wrist. He spoke too softly for Jami to overhear, but Raven stuck her regal nose in the air and stalked out of the room.

“I’ll help you catch the frog, Toby,” Grant proposed, a calm voice in the midst of mayhem.

“Poor frog. It’s probably more scared than Raven,” Jami remarked, hoping it hadn’t got injured in the excitement.

“I didn’t want to hurt the froggy,” Toby said, wiggling out from between chairs to focus worried brown eyes on his mom.

“I know you didn’t,” Jami replied, unsure of how to handle this very public situation. “Once your frog is back in the water, it should be fine.”

“Got it.” Grant rose, the frog grasped firmly in his hand. “Let’s get this froggy back to the spring. Okay, slugger?”

“Sure, Grant.” Toby turned warily to his mother, who nodded her approval.

Jami glanced gratefully at Grant. “I would appreciate that.”

“No problem.” Grant headed for the doorway. “Come on, Toby.”

With the cold, slimy, frantically puffing frog in his hand, Grant led Toby out of the dining room and through the kitchen. Becca turned away from the sink toward them, a question in her eyes until her gaze dropped to the frog. Her mouth formed a perfect “O” as Grant continued out the kitchen door. The screen slammed behind them as they stepped out into the fresh evening air.

“We’ll get this fellow back home.” At least Grant hoped they’d make it back to the spring before the frog launched out of his hand. The creature was slippery and determined, as was the boy trailing mere steps behind.

Toby hopped and skipped to keep up with Grant, but it wasn’t in the child’s usual carefree manner. The boy sniffled. Grant glanced back quickly enough to catch Toby wiping a tear away with a fist.

“You okay, partner?”

“Yeah.” Toby scooted alongside Grant, and they both knelt by the gurgling spring. The boy’s eyes remained suspiciously bright as Grant carefully placed the frog back into the water. “I hate it when Mom does that.”

“Does what?” Grant asked as the frog leaped into the water, heading for the shelter of some rocks.

“Calls me by my whole name in front of people. She only does it when she’s real mad.” Toby turned those bright eyes up to Grant, triggering a rush of protectiveness toward the troubled boy. “I hate my middle name.”

Grant blinked down at the kid in surprise. “Justice? The name is unusual, but there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“It’s stupid.” Toby bit his bottom lip, ready to cry again. “Mom said she named me after her dad, my grandpa, but I hate it.”

“Want to know a secret?” Grant said, pulling Toby onto his knee.

“What?”

“I’m not too pleased with my full name, either.” Grant enjoyed the child’s warm closeness and fresh scrubbed scent.

“Grant Carrington’s a good name,” Toby replied, sounding confused and surprised.

“But that’s just part of my name.” He pulled the boy closer, then glanced around as if he were about to admit a secret. He dropped his voice low. “My name is Cary Grant Carrington.”

“That’s not so bad.” Toby put his small hands trustingly on Grant’s shoulders. “Cary’s lots better than Justice.”

“No, it isn’t.” Grant brushed a lock of hair off Toby’s forehead. “My mom named me after an actor, and kids used to tease me. So now I drop my first name and go by my middle name.”

“Why did they tease you?” Toby asked in awe, obviously having difficultly picturing Grant as a young boy being picked on about a name.

“Cary Grant was a famous movie star.” Grant knew the child probably had no idea who the celebrated actor had been, so he searched for a comparison. “It would be like your mom naming you after Vin Diesel. You would be Vin Diesel Rhodes, instead of Toby Justice Rhodes.”

“Wow!” A horrified expression rippled across Toby’s freckled face. “That’s lots worse than Justice for a middle name.”

“You got it, buddy.” Grant grinned, pleased by getting his point across. “That’s why I go by Grant and only use the initial “C” when I write my full name.”

“Why did your mom name you after a movie guy?” Toby asked, digesting his own narrow escape from a similar fate.

“My mother loves movies. She did it to my brothers, too,” Grant admitted. “She named each of us after one of her favorite stars.”

“Your dad let her?” Toby squealed in disgust, then suddenly he whispered, “Or were you like me—a kid with no daddy?”

Grant flinched at the pain in the child’s voice. “I had a dad then, but he’s dead now. Dad used to let my mother do pretty much whatever she wanted. She’s a unique lady—being around her is like getting caught in a whirlwind.” Heart full of affection, he smiled at Toby. “My mother would like you.”

“She would?”

“Yes, she would.”

“You like me, don’t you, Grant?” Toby gazed up hopefully.

“Of course,” Grant responded, taken aback. “I think you’re great.”

“Suzy Martin told me nobody likes me because I’m such a brat.” Tears swam in Toby’s innocent brown eyes.

Grant ruffled the carrot-red hair. “Whoever this Suzy is—she’s wrong. I bet everyone likes you.”

“Raven doesn’t.”

“I don’t think Raven likes many people.”

“She likes you.”

“Guess that’s my problem, isn’t it?” Grant replied with a grin.

“Yeah—yuck!” Toby agreed, high spirits bouncing back.

Grant watched the boy, amazed by the resiliency of childhood. “You still have apologies to make, slugger.”

“Do I have to?” Toby grumbled, dragging his sneakered feet as they returned to the lodge.

“Yes. A man makes amends for his mistakes.” Grant tried to keep from sounding too gruff. “You know sneaking the frog in to frighten Raven was a mistake.”

“It was fun,” Toby protested as they reached the kitchen door.

“It wasn’t fun for long, was it?” Grant pressed, wondering if this is how fathers felt trying to reach their children.

“Not long enough.”

“Remember that next time.”

Toby dug his heels in, refusing to enter the lodge. “I already told Raven I was sorry.”

“Not sincerely.” Grant took the boy’s arm and practically towed him through the doorway. “You owe your mom and the others apologies, too.”

“I got to tell everybody I’m sorry?” The boy acted like he was being forced into a torture chamber instead of the lodge kitchen where the heavenly scent of cinnamon and apples greeted them.

“What do you think?”

“All right,” Toby finally agreed as they drew closer to the dining room entry.

“Toby,” Homer called, halting them as he shuffled up from the kitchen table. “How about a game of checkers?”

“Sure,” Toby whooped. He glanced up at Grant to add, “After I ask Mom.”

“Ask your mamma if you can eat your dessert in here with Homer,” Becca suggested, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “It’s Apple Betty.”

“What? No Apple Becca?” Grant quipped, drawing a scowl from Becca, confusion from Toby, and a chuckle from Homer.

“I’ll ask my mom,” Toby said, hesitant. “But I’m not sure she’ll let me. She’s kind of mad.”

“Apologize first, then ask,” Grant recommended, remembering Jami’s fiery temper and his own experience being on the wrong side of her anger.

“Good man-to-man advice,” Homer seconded, waiting at the arched entry as Grant and Toby crossed through to the dining room table where Jami sat with the Hammersmith sisters and the professor.

“I’m sorry everybody,” Toby offered in a shy voice as he stared down at the floor. “It was bad to bring the frog to supper and scare Mrs. McGuire.”

“Apologies accepted, young man.” Professor Tolaski leaned back in his chair to peer thoughtfully at Toby.

“Livened up dinnertime,” Dottie responded with a cheery smile, her wise eyes twinkling.

“Raven must learn frogs are an important part of our ecology and nothing to be squeamish about,” Doris contributed, acting no more bothered than the other two as she nibbled away.

“Honey, you still must apologize properly to Raven.” Jami pushed away her dessert dish as she watched her truculent, ruddy-faced boy.

“I promise I will tomorrow. Don’t make me go to her room to say I’m sorry.” Toby sprang to his mother’s side, clutching her shirt sleeve. “Please, Mom. I think she’s a witch and might try to cook me like in that story.”

“‘Hansel and Gretel?’” Jami exclaimed in surprise. Toby wasn’t fond of the widow, but a witch? Now Raven certainly had acted—ah, witchy at times.

“Don’t be silly, Toby,” Dottie said, crumpling her napkin and tossing it next to her plate. “There’s no place to cook anything in our rooms.”

“That woman is a bit frightening, though,” Doris sympathized, folding her napkin into a neat square and carefully positioning it by her plate.

“Raven puts me in mind of another bird,” the professor stated in monotone fashion. “A far deadlier bird than the raven—a cassowary. The cassowary can kill or cripple a person with one swift kick of its razor-sharp claw.”

“Oh, my!” Dottie’s hand flew to her mouth. “I think we saw a cassowary once. Naturally we kept our distance.”

“We did?” Doris asked with a puzzled expression.

“You went birding in Australia and New Guinea?” Professor Tolaski queried with obvious doubt and strong sarcasm. “That is the natural habitat of cassowary.”

“Actually, no,” Doris said, appearing very uncomfortable. “Maybe we saw the cassowary at the zoo.”

“Yes, at the zoo,” Dottie quickly conceded.

Grant stood watching the exchange with a smile curving his lips. Jami caught his gaze to return his smile, then she spotted Toby shuffling his feet in a nervous manner that warned her the child wanted something. “What is it, Toby?”

“Can I eat my apple stuff in the kitchen with Homer? He wants to beat me at checkers again.”

“Okay. If you promise to apologize to Raven tomorrow.” Jami kissed his cheek. “Maybe you’ll win at checkers this time.”

“Not unless Grant helps me. Homer’s real smart.”

“So are you, partner. You don’t need my help, just some practice.” Grant patted Toby’s head and gazed at him so affectionately that Jami’s breath caught in her throat.

She bit her lip, tasting her berry lip gloss now flecked with cinnamon from dessert. Her son was bonding with Grant Carrington, and she had no idea how to stop it. Or prevent the heartache such a futile attachment would bring.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Grant requested, his gaze shifting from Jami and Toby to encompass the others. “I have things to attend to, so I’ll skip dessert.”

The professor nodded and Dottie and Doris waved him off. Only Jami appeared disappointed. Maybe he should have stayed to keep her company?

He chided himself for the wishful thinking. Jami didn’t want his company. Maybe he’d go for an evening swim in the lake and cool off. A day spent in such close proximity to the woman, while posing for all those romantic shots had simmered a slow burn inside him that had nothing to do with temper. And everything to do with Jami’s irresistible allure. Being with her felt so right, but she deserved more than he could offer. She deserved commitment. She deserved the forever kind of love, he concluded as he entered the upstairs suite alone. What could a die-hard bachelor offer such a woman? Certainly not a relationship. Not the suitable kind.

Grant glanced at the drawer where he had replaced the Cupid key the night before, when he had glued the flap securely and slid the envelope to the back. On a foolish impulse, he’d thrown a golf shirt over the package before closing the drawer. How his brothers would taunt him if they knew.

Still, Cupid had tormented him all night, haunting him with disturbing dreams of the golden cherub aiming love arrows at Jami, and at him. His mind overflowed with images, captured like freeze-frame photos, until he had leapt from bed and thrown his pillow at the dream-catcher on the wall. Toby’s grizzly bear nightmare would have been less upsetting.

Grant changed into his swim trunks and grabbed a towel. A brisk swim in a mountain lake at twilight was just what he needed, and he intended to push his body to exhaustion. Tonight, he promised himself, neither Jami nor Cupid would invade his dreams.



Downstairs, Jami entered the kitchen to find a full-blown game of Monopoly going strong, instead of the expected checkers. Becca and Nell had joined in the fun and all four sets of eyes turned to Jami as the foursome chorused, “Hi!”

“Want to play with us, Mom? Becca’s helping me, and we’re winning.” Toby’s cheeks were flushed and his hair tousled. He leaned forward on his elbows to study the board as if he could read every word and understand every symbol.

“No thanks, tiger.” Jami felt a surge of pride watching her little boy acting so grown-up. “Maybe I’ll go upstairs and write out a few postcards.”

“Why don’t you wander down to the lake?” Becca suggested, playing banker for Homer as she talked. “It’s lovely on summer evenings.”

“Then I can stay here longer. Please, Mom?” Toby begged, rolling the dice with a clatter onto the kitchen table, then grinning as Becca helped him count the spaces aloud.

“Put on a suit and have a dip,” Nell suggested, slowly sorting colorful play money and handing it to a giggly Toby as she landed on his hotel.

“It’s the perfect time of year for a swim,” Homer persuaded with a wink.

“I can tuck this young tyke into bed after the game,” Becca offered as Toby carefully placed his money into piles of pink on pink, blue on blue, green on green and yellow on yellow. Apparently, he was winning.

“Go enjoy yourself, dear,” Nell added, gnarled fingers twisting her wispy white hair into further disarray.

“A swim does sound lovely,” Jami acquiesced, extremely tempted. Even though her complexion kept her from sunbathing, she had taken like a mermaid to water when she was a child. In retrospect, Jami realized her love of water was the main reason she’d invested in Dive-a-Wave with the money she had inherited from her parents. Pushing sad memories away, she focused on her contented boy. He appeared happy and not too sleepy.

Jami had been itching to go swimming in Frost Lake since her arrival, and with Toby occupied, this was the perfect opportunity. A solitary evening swim sounded wonderful.