If Looks Could Kill

Dora opened the front door of the Uptons’ antebellum mansion situated a half mile off the winding road leading up the mountain. She offered Caleb a warm, welcoming smile when he entered the massive black-and-white marble- floored foyer.

Although both Miss Reba and Big Jim had accepted him as their grandson and had invited him to move in with them, Caleb still didn’t feel as if he really belonged—in this house or to the Upton family. He’d been born and raised in Memphis, never knowing his father and somehow managing to survive as the child of a drug-addicted mother. It wasn’t until Melanie Upton was dying that she told Caleb who her parents were and where they lived. She’d begged him to go to the Uptons then, when he’d been sixteen. But back then, he hadn’t wanted anything to do with people he didn’t know. Up until then he’d been taking care of himself by cheating, lying and stealing, doing whatever it took to stay alive and keep just below the child welfare department’s radar. Despite all his mother’s faults, he’d loved her and had done whatever he thought was necessary not only to stay with her, but to take care of her. In their case, the parental roles had become reversed when Caleb was about seven.

“They’re waiting for you in the breakfast room. Go on in. I’ve made a big pot of chicken stew and baked a carrot cake, fresh this morning.”

Dora, the Uptons’ faithful housekeeper, had taken an immediate liking to Caleb the first time Big Jim had brought him home. But on their very first meeting, she’d issued him a warning. “That Jamie was a no-good devil, but we loved him. Miss Reba most of all. He broke her heart over and over again. I suspect you ain’t nothing like Jamie. But I’m telling you now, if you ever hurt Miss Reba, you’ll have to answer to me.”

The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt either of his newly found grandparents. But he’d realized right off the bat that his grandmother was a master manipulator, a strong-willed woman who liked to rule the roost. Although Big Jim was more laid-back, not as snooty or judgmental, the old man was used to running things his way. Caleb guessed that kind of authoritarian mind-set came from being born rich and powerful.

“One thing I’ve found out since I’ve been getting to know the grandparents is that their most valuable asset is you, Dora.”

Giggling like a child, Dora blushed, then swatted Caleb on the arm and said, “You do have that in common with your cousin Jamie—you know how to flatter a woman.”

“My flattery is sincere,” Caleb assured her, hating to be compared to his late cousin in any way, shape, form or fashion.

“Yes, I believe it is. And that’s the difference. One of many that makes you a far better man.”

While Caleb headed toward the breakfast room, Dora turned and went into the kitchen. The moment Miss Reba saw him, her face lit up, her lips curving into a broad smile and her eyes bright with excitement. Big Jim eased up from his chair and threw out his hand.

“We’re delighted you could join us today,” Miss Reba said.

“Good to see you, son. Good to see you.” Big Jim took Caleb’s hand in a firm, man-to-man shake.

“You just don’t come around nearly enough.” His grand- mother’s tone was friendly yet scolding. “I do wish you’d reconsider coming here to live with us. We’ve got so much room. You could have your own suite. We’d redo Jamie’s old rooms for you or—”

“Leave the boy be.” Big Jim indicated one of the large oak chairs at the table. “Sit, sit. Dora’s fixed some of her world famous chicken stew. You’re in for a real treat.”

Caleb sat between his grandparents at the large oak table. “I’ll do my best to visit more often, Miss Reba. But I have a job and a girlfriend that both require a great deal of my time.”

He sensed rather than saw his grandmother stiffen at the mention of a girlfriend. Reba Upton had forbidden her grandson, Jamie, to marry Jazzy when they’d been teenagers and he’d gotten Jazzy pregnant. And although Jazzy had miscarried the child and Jamie had allowed his grandmother to dictate who he could and could not marry, Jamie and Jazzy had continued an on-again, off-again affair for years. Not only did his grandmother’s disapproval stand between Jazzy and Caleb, but so did his cousin’s memory. Yet he hoped that with each passing day, Jazzy’s memories of Jamie would dim and the time would come when she would trust him with her heart. Jamie had used her and disappointed her so often that Jazzy was afraid to believe in another man, especially another Upton heir. The fact that Miss Reba staunchly opposed his and Jazzy’s relationship sure didn’t help his efforts to convince Jazzy to marry him.

“You shouldn’t be wasting your time working as a bouncer in that awful place,” Miss Reba told him. “Jim is eager to have you come into the family business. He should have retired completely years ago. Someday in the not too distant future, Upton Dairies will be yours, so you should be learning the business now.”

That was another thing he hadn’t quite gotten used to—being the only heir to a fortune worth at least fifty or sixty million, maybe more. The Uptons had originally been dairy farmers, and he supposed that’s what they still were. But right after World War I, Big Jim’s grandfather and father had expanded the local business, and by the time World War II ended, Upton Dairies was the biggest producer of milk and dairy products in the state of Tennessee. With shrewd investments and by branching out, the family’s wealth had increased immeasurably over the years. Big Jim had recently taken Caleb aside and explained all this to him.

“Good God, woman, will you stop pressuring the boy. Let him get used to being our grandson before you start trying to run his life.”

Reba gasped dramatically. “I’m offended that you’d accuse me of such a thing. I’d never try to—”

Big Jim laughed, the sound deep and robust. “Lord love you, honey, you honestly can’t see your own faults. Never could.” Not giving his wife time for a quick rebuttal, Jim reached out and slapped Caleb on the arm. “Something tells me that this young man won’t be so easily manipulated. From what I’ve seen, he has a mind and a will of his own. He’ll do whatever the hell he pleases—about Upton Dairies and about Jazzy Talbot.”

“How is Jasmine?” Miss Reba asked, her voice strained.

Caleb was genuinely surprised that his grandmother had even inquired about Jazzy. He knew how much effort it had taken her to say Jazzy’s name in a civil manner, con sidering how she—no matter how irrational the idea was—held Jazzy partly responsible for Jamie’s death.

“Jazzy’s just fine,” Caleb replied. “Thank you for asking, Miss Reba.”

“I do wish you’d call me Big Mama.”

“I feel more comfortable calling you Miss Reba, at least for now.”

“Miss Reba and Big Jim us fine with us,” Jim said. “So, Jazzy’s doing fine, huh? You’ll have to bring her out here to dinner one evening.” He shot Reba a warning glare. “Won’t he, honey? We’d be pleased to have her.”

Caleb glanced at his grandmother and barely restrained the laughter bubbling up in his throat. Miss Reba had gone ghost white, her perfect pink mouth formed a startled oval and her big blue eyes widened as round as saucers.

“I doubt Jasmine Talbot would accept an invitation to dine with us,” Reba said. “Considering our past history.”

“She might.” Caleb looked pleadingly at his grandmother. “If you telephoned her and invited her yourself.”

Miss Reba swallowed, took a deep breath and offered him a weak smile. “Would you like that, dear? Would it please you?”

“Yes, ma’am. It would please me a great deal. I’d very much like it if the woman I love and my grandmother could get along.”

“You—you love her?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.”

“I see.”

Jim sat quietly, watching and listening. And apparently waiting to find out what the outcome of this exchange would be.

“You might as well know that sooner or later, I’ll wear Jazzy down and she’ll agree to marry me.” Caleb kept his gaze fixed determinedly on his grandmother’s pale face. “And there’s nothing anyone can say or do to stop me from making her my wife. Do you understand what I’m saying, Miss Reba?”

“Yes, I understand perfectly.”

“I hope you do because I wouldn’t want to ever have to choose between you and her. I’ve just found you and Big Jim. I’d sure hate to lose you.”

“You aren’t going to lose me—lose us,” Miss Reba said with firm conviction. “I’ll telephone Jasmine later today and invite her to Sunday dinner tomorrow.”

Grinning, feeling as if he’d won a major battle, Caleb got up, walked over to his grandmother and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Tears glistened in Miss Reba’s eyes. Curling her small hand around his arm, she pursed her lips and returned his kiss.

“Oh, by the way, you might want to invite Reve Sorrell, too,” Caleb said. “She arrived in Cherokee Pointe earlier today and is going to be staying for a while. Dr. MacNair took DNA samples this morning and sent them off. We should know within a week if Jazzy and Reve are twins.”

“That’s a mighty peculiar thing,” Big Jim said. “Those two gals finding out that they could be sisters. Has Jazzy questioned her aunt Sally again about the circumstances surrounding her birth?”

“No, not lately, but the old woman has sworn that Jazzy was the only baby born to her sister, Corrine.”

“Where is Ms. Sorrell staying?” Reba asked. “Surely not with Jasmine. I mean, the two hardly know each other and certainly have nothing in common.”

Caleb pulled away from his grandmother and returned to his seat. “No, she and Jazzy haven’t reached the sisterly bonding point. Yet. Reve is renting a place from Cherokee Cabin Rentals.”

“I should invite her to stay here,” Reba said and elicited surprised looks from Caleb and Big Jim.

“Why ever would you do that?” Jim asked.

“Because Ms. Sorrell was a friend of Jamie’s. And her parents were part of the same social circle as the Wallaces and the Grambrells. Eileen Wallace and I were sorority sisters. Anna Lee Grambrell and I have served on numerous Republican fund raisers statewide. And I’m almost certain that I met Lesley Sorrell not only at a couple of those fundraisers, but at Eileen’s daughter’s wedding, too.”