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White Pearls

By Shannon Taylor Vannatter

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Great, just what Shell needed to spoil the view from the
balcony. A church full of Holy Rollers across the street. At least
the old plantation sat back off the road a good two hundred
yards. The Bible-thumpers wouldn’t be able to spy on her.
With an exaggerated eye roll, she ran her forefinger and thumb
back and forth over the faux pearl necklace she wore.
She stood at the railing and surveyed the grounds of the
crumbling, two-story relic. Transform this place into a happening
bed-and-breakfast? On the edge of town in tiny Rose Bud,
Arkansas?
But the place had charm. It had obviously once been a
grand estate. Oh the balls and cotillions this house must have
hosted. Oh the grand, fine ladies who’d lived here. Grand, fine
ladies who looked down their snooty noses on the likes of
Shell Evans.
“Shell Evans.” A hoarse male voice came from behind her.
She stiffened. Probably a carpenter. How did he know her
name already? She’d barely gotten here. Already the gossiping
tongues wagged. Wade Fenwick’s floozy is in town. She could
almost hear the whispers. Paranoid. Of course, her boss had
told the man her name.
“Who wants to know?” She smiled, trying to sound confident
as she turned to face him.
Ryler.
Her jaw dropped. Her heart skittered into overdrive. Her
knees turned spongy and she leaned back against the railing.
“The landscaper.”
If only this could be an April Fool’s joke.
A massive brick of a man—but she knew how gentle he
could be. Despite his imposing size, he was easy to look at.
Same model-worthy, sculpted bone structure with tousled
5
6 White Pearls
dark waves almost brushing his shoulders, and haunting moss
green eyes. Eyes that bore into her soul and seemed to hold
all of life’s hurts in their endless depths.
Hurts she’d once tried to ease. Instead she’d almost lost her
heart. “Darrell hired you?”
Something cracked. The railing gave way, and Shell screamed.
Ryler grabbed her arm and jerked her toward him. They landed
in a heap by the door with her face buried in his solid chest. She
pushed away from him.
He helped her up. “You okay?”
“Fine. Thanks.”
The balustrade where she’d stood was gone, leaving twisted,
splintered wood in its wake.
Yellow pollen dust smeared her pink T-shirt and jeans. She
swiped at it with shaky hands, and managed to pat most of it out.
Ryler coughed and cleared his throat. A few gasps later, he
caught his breath.
“Are you sick?”
“Allergies. All this pollen. If it’s green and grows in the
spring, I’m allergic to it.”
“And you’re a landscaper?”
“Gotta make a living somehow.” Ryler ran a hand through
his dark waves, sending them tumbling in disarray.
Shell swallowed hard.
“I don’t remember you having allergies before.” But she
remembered everything else. His deep voice that sent shivers
over her spine, his touch that shot lightning through her veins,
and his kiss that turned her into a quivering, brainless idiot.
“It was fall. I’m good in fall and winter. I’m usually better
than this, but I forgot my medication last night.” His gaze
scanned the grounds. “This place has a lot of possibilities.”
“It’ll take a lot of work, but it’s doable.” The porch swing
beckoned to her still wobbly legs, but she didn’t trust the
rotting wood and rusted chains. “You know, I’d understand
if you want to back out of this. I’m sure you can find another
job.” Please do. Just walk away.
“Probably, but we’re both adults. I’m starting my own
White Pearls 7
business and something as upscale as restoring the grounds
of a former plantation will look great on my résumé.” He
coughed and cleared his throat.
She hugged herself and managed a smile. “Whatever you
think.”
“I think I’ve seen enough.” No returned smile, no handshake,
no catch ya later. He strolled through the doorway and was
gone.
Why? Why? Why? Of all the landscapers, why the one who’d
almost made her believe happily-ever-after could be possible.
Six months. A whole half a year without him. Yet one glance
and her heart had done a giddy tap dance.
Darrell stepped through the doorway. “What happened?”
“I leaned against the railing.”
His eyes widened and he gently took her by the shoulders.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
He wagged a finger. “No leaning on anything until the
carpenters do some work.”
“I thought you said it was structurally safe.”
“In 1982, a tornado hit Rose Bud.” With a shrug, Darrell
checked his watch. “Some of the outbuildings got blown
away, but the house survived. Just think of the history. Famous
architects of the time, DeVoss and Carr designed it for the
original owner, J. S. Darden.”
“When did you get here?” Shell’s frustration came out in
her tone.
He raised an eyebrow. “Just a few minutes ago.”
“I must have been inside opening windows. It needed
airing out.”
“We parked around back by your apartment.”
“You mean my slave quarters.” She rolled her eyes. “Leave
it to you to buy an old plantation and house me in the slave
quarters.”
Darrell laughed and his brown eyes almost closed like they
always did when he smiled. “Actually the servants’ quarters
are upstairs. There’s a separate stairway from the dining
8 White Pearls
room. And technically since the house was built in the late-
1800s, they were no longer slaves, but servants. When I saw it for sale, I had to have it. It’ll be fun restoring this place back to its original glory.”
If only his unconcerned, worry-free attitude could make
her forget Ryler’s presence. But her nerve endings were alive
at the prospect of working with him. “Is this an April Fool’s
joke?”
“Wish I’d thought up something.” Darrell snapped his
fingers. “But I forgot what day it was. Seriously, I wish I
could oversee this renovation project myself, but then I’d miss
my lovely wife.”
The only upstanding, happily married man Shell had ever
known, Darrell was one of the few she was sure would never
hit on her. He and his wife, Eva, were the stuff romance
novels were made of.
“You have to admit it’s beautiful.” Darrell strode to one end
of the balcony. “Ryler’s here somewhere. The landscaper.”
“I sort of ran into him.”
“Good. He’s planting a garden on all four sides with a
fountain in the middle of each.”
“You said three months, Darrell? This place will take at
least six, maybe even a year. I’ll never get to go home again.”
“Three. Maybe six if we hit snags, definitely not a year.”
Darrell framed the front yard with his hands. “Just imagine.
A garden view from every window. Freshly painted siding
and new glass in the broken windows, restored interior walls
and flooring. . .”
The breeze blew pollen dust tornadoes across the long
drive.
“Darrell, I’m not sure about this.” Three months—six
months. Either way, too long. What was she doing here
anyway? Why wasn’t she with Chance in Conway? “It’s a
bigger job than I expected.”
“You have my blessing to go home every weekend to
Chance if you want. And there’s a church right across the
street if you decide to stay here.”
White Pearls 9
“You know I don’t do church, and I’d rather spend every
evening with Chance.” She bit her lip.
“I can’t keep up. How old is he now?”
“Fifteen months.”
“You could bring him here with you.”
She closed her eyes. “You know that’s not possible.”
“Nothing’s impossible. You could stay on, run this place for
me, and raise Chance here.”
Except she couldn’t raise him.
“Come on, Shell. This place needs your touch.”
And she owed him. “Three months. That’s all I have to
give.”
“That’s my girl.” He patted her shoulder. “So now do you
see the potential?”
“It’s a great old place.” It’s the landscaper that’s the problem.
“Three months, then I’m out of here.”
“That’s all I need. But think about what I said. This
little town would be a great place to raise a child.” Darrell
checked his watch. “I’ve got a meeting to get to. I’ll come back
tomorrow for an official tour and we’ll go over the plans. Will
you close the windows and lock up for me?”
“Sure.”
“You can whip this place into shape, Shell. I have complete
confidence in you.”
The only person who ever had.
Without a backward glance, he left. Moments later, his
black cherry Cadillac convertible rounded the house. With a
wave, he drove away.
Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she hurried through
the house and retraced her steps, closing windows as she
went.
The musty smell was better than when she’d first arrived.
She closed the last window, locked the storm and regular
doors, and stepped out on the front porch.
“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Shell jumped and whirled toward the gravelly voice.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
10 White Pearls
“I thought you left.”
“I was checking out the grounds.” He jammed a baseball
cap on his head and tipped it at her. Dark waves flipped
every which way under the rim. “Better get used to me
hanging around. You’re stuck with me, for at least six weeks.”
Only half the time she’d be here. A relieved sigh welled up
within her, but she stifled it as he waved and jogged toward
the back of the house.
Moments later, a charcoal SUV rounded the side of the
house and pulled onto the highway. If it was Ryler’s, it was
definitely a step up from the battered royal blue pickup with
the roaring engine he’d driven six months ago.
Her breathing leveled out to normal.
The splintered railing lay in front of the steps. Her stomach
clenched. She could have ended up there in a broken heap.
Picking up the rotted wood, she threw it in a pile next to the
porch and scanned the house.
Six weeks. Six weeks of working with Ryler. The crew
could whip this place into shape in three months. They had
to. She had to get home to Chance.
Inhaling the fresh spring air, she tried to let the peaceful
surroundings calm the quaking inside and imagined the
repairs, flower beds, and bushes. Yes, it definitely had potential.
A breeze wafted the tall, amber hay surrounding the house
on three sides. Dense woods stretched into eternity behind
her apartment separate from the house. Typical of rural
Arkansas, hayfields surrounded almost every house, although
downtown Rose Bud was just around a curve.
The porch spanned the entire front, with filigree trim
and the balcony above it. The window with stained glass
panels Darrell had bought in Botkinburg graced the eave
overhanging the terrace. His only splurge from keeping
everything original. So excited with his antique find, he’d had
the window installed months ago when the roof had been
replaced and the apartment remodeled.
Double French exterior doors would be perfect for the
front entries on both stories, but Darrell wanted the originals
White Pearls 11
with the double arched windows left intact.
Her purse vibrated. She dug out her cell and flipped it
open. Darrell.
“Hello?”
“You okay?” Darrell’s favorite Christian radio station played
in the background.
“Fine. Why?”
“You seemed kind of—funny, so I wanted to make sure you
weren’t hurt.”
A lump lodged in her throat. “It wasn’t the fall. I wasn’t
expecting to see Ryler here, so it kind of rattled me.”
“You know him?” Concern echoed in his tone.
“We got acquainted when he was working on the golf
course.”
“And that’s all you’re going to tell me.” The music faded
out. “He did wonders with the golf course, so I thought he’d
be perfect for the job. But you’re giving me second thoughts.
Will you be okay working with him?”
“It’s fine. He’s gone already and what are you? My boss or
my father?”
“Just trying to look out for you, Shell. Somebody needs to.
Have you made it to the apartment yet?”
“On my way.”
“Call Eva when you get there. She’s dying to know what
you think.”
“I’m sure it will be fabulous. Even if it’s not slave quarters.”
He chuckled. “Take care, Shell. And if Ryler gets out of
line, he can answer to me.”
Her heart was the only thing out of line.
As she hung up, a child’s giggle echoed through the air,
followed by a playful squeal. Now she was hearing things.
Painful reminders.
She turned toward the sound. A mother with a toddler and
an infant walked toward the house across a narrow hayfield.
Great, just what she needed.
Scurrying to her apartment, she rounded the side of the
main house. With a screened porch on the side, and a small
12 White Pearls
afterthought of a porch over the door, the back of the main
house wasn’t nearly as ostentatious as the ornate front.
Separated from the house by the driveway, her apartment
sat directly behind it, with an aged wooden garage on the far
end. Its door looked permanently jammed about a foot from
closed. She shuddered. No telling what kind of creatures had
made their home in there.
Coffee. Darrell promised her apartment was fully
furnished and stocked with everything she’d need. Two cups,
maybe three, then she’d go over the plans and blueprints and
be ready for Darrell’s arrival in the morning. And Ryler’s.
She opened the trunk of her car and pulled out the largest
suitcase, then sifted through the keys Darrell had given her.
So much for slinking into town without a splash. Who
was she kidding? This job would take forever. No way could
she spend months on end here without the locals finding out
who she was. Six weeks of those months on end, working
with Ryler.
Oh well, at least she wouldn’t have to hear her sister and
brother-in-law constantly talking about God and church and
inviting her to attend.
The aged lock of her temporary lodgings clicked. Inside,
the apartment was roomy with sunny yellow walls and
white wicker furnishings. Eva had done a nice job with the
contemporary, bright, and cozy decor. Given the chance, Shell
would have chosen a less hokey color, but it was nice enough.
And after Shell finished the job, it would serve as a nice
honeymoon suite.
She stepped into the bedroom and hoisted her suitcase
onto the bed. After unzipping the lid, she dug through her
clothing, found the framed photo, and set it on the night
table. She ran her fingertips over the precious face, her chin
trembling.
Weekend trips to Conway. Lots of them over the next
several months. Home was only forty-five minutes away and
she’d left something there.
Her heart.
White Pearls 13
And the only male she’d ever trusted with it.
❧
Ryler parked in front of the glass lobby of the post office. If
he’d known the manager for the B & B project was Shell,
he wouldn’t have taken this job. He should have known.
Shell was never far from Darrell. White-knuckled, his hands
tightened on the steering wheel.
But she was supposed to be in Conway. And now, he
couldn’t quit—couldn’t let her know that working with her
would be hard on him. Hard on his heart.
How had she gotten back under his skin so quickly? He
jerked the SUV door open.
She was beautiful, but he’d had his share of beautiful
women. Was it the pain in her eyes that had drawn him to her
again? He didn’t need to dabble with anyone else’s pain—he
had enough already.
Pushing thoughts of Shell down deep, he concentrated on
the task at hand. Meeting his sister. Shortly after his birthday,
he’d finally found the courage to unearth his mother’s letter
from his father’s Bible, read it, and head to the bank with the
safe deposit key. And his life had pole-vaulted even more out
of control.
He’d found his birth mother but hadn’t revealed his identity
to her yet. Her highfalutin ways made him want to run the
other way. Until he learned about his siblings. Siblings who
possibly didn’t even know about him.
Stomach churning, he stepped inside the post office lobby and swung the second door open to reveal white walls and commercial tiled floors. Mailboxes lined a long wall and several U-shaped areas. The work area was to his right.
He blew out a breath. She was alone.
Turning from her computer, Laken flashed him a friendly
smile. “May I help you?”
His tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. He swallowed.
“I just moved to Romance.”
“Welcome. I used to live there. It’s a great little town.”
14 White Pearls
“I’m trying to decide whether to get a post office box there
or here in Rose Bud, since I’ll be doing some work in this
area, Searcy, and Little Rock.”
“Hmm.” She tapped her chin with her index finger. “It
depends. Is the Romance office close to your house?”
With a shrug, he grinned. “Beats me.”
“Where do you live?”
“In a rental house on Highway 5.”
Squinting, she cocked her head to one side. “By any chance
is Pete Callaway your landlord? Number 124?”
He frowned. Was she on to him? “How did you know?”
“I used to live across the street. My brother lives there now
and he mentioned someone new moving in.” She shrugged.
“Besides, it seems everybody ends up in one of Pete’s two
rentals when they first come to town.”
Across the street from his brother? He couldn’t have planned
that if he’d tried.
She grabbed a scrap of paper and drew an X, then a line
and another intersecting it. “Okay, your house is here. The
office in Romance is down this road, I’d say about a mile and
a half past your place.”
Ryler tried to concentrate on her directions. “It’s not on
the way home either way.”
“We can set up a box here or my husband can help you at
the Romance office, or you might want to put up a mailbox
at your house.”
“Your husband works at the Romance office?” Married?
Was he an uncle?
“He’s the postmaster there. I used to work there, too, but as
things developed, I transferred.” She blushed.
Her coloring was different from his. Her hair a coppery
brown, while his was quite a bit darker, a shade or two from
black. Her eyes were blue, while his were green. But there
was something about her smile. Something he’d seen in the
mirror.
She frowned, obviously uncomfortable under his scrutiny.
“Maybe you should check with my husband.”
White Pearls 15
Did she think he was hitting on her? Ryler grinned. “I’m
sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. You seem familiar to me.”
“I had the same thought about you. Are you from around
here?”
“I’ve lived my whole life in”—he hesitated, considering a
lie—“Little Rock.” Would she figure it out? Did he want her
to? Did she even know he existed?
“I used to live in Little Rock. Maybe we ran into each
other there.” She visibly relaxed then snapped her fingers. “I
know. You were working at my parents’ home a few months
ago. Martin and Sylvie Kroft in Searcy. I’m Laken Winters.”
His gut clenched. “You have a good memory. Ryler Grant.”
She’d waved to him and he’d ignored her, assuming she
and the man with her were just another pair of snooty
visitors and she had been doing her good deed of the day by
acknowledging the hired help. Only later did he learn from
the Krofts’ young, flirty neighbor that they were Laken and
Collin Kroft—he had a sister and a brother.
“I think I’ll go ahead and get a box here.” The perfect way
to get to know Laken without her knowing who he was.
“Sure.” She handed him a form. “Just fill this out. You can
do it now or take it with you if you want.” She rattled off the
box sizes and prices.
He’d better go before he got her suspicious again. What
if she heard he’d been asking around town about her? “I
appreciate your help. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Have a nice day.” She turned back to her work.
Forcing his feet to move, he headed toward the lobby.
Shell strolled in, her platinum hair blowing in the slight
breeze. A strand fell across her eyes. His fingertips tingled,
longing to brush it away from her face. Of all the leggy
blondes he’d known, this one was dangerous. He should have
taken her offer. Reneged on the job and run as fast as he
could. Far away.
“Hello again.”
“Hey.” He stepped back out of her way.
Her flowery-citrus perfume filled his senses. The perfume
16 White Pearls
he’d bought her. He’d thought he caught a whiff of it at the
soon-to-be B & B but decided it was his imagination. But
no. She was definitely wearing the perfume he’d bought her.
What did that mean?
“Shell Evans?” Laken cried.
Her nearness sank into his bones.
“Laken Kroft.”
“Winters now. I got married last February.”
“Don’t tell me.” Shell rolled her eyes. “Married in Romance
on Valentine’s Day.”
“Guilty.” Laken laughed. “What about you?”
“I’ve never married.”
Ryler swallowed hard.
Both women looked at him, as if wondering what he was
still doing there.
Spying. That’s what. On both of them. He laid the form
on the counter and grabbed the pen waiting there. “I decided
since there’s not much to it, I’ll fill it out here.”
“What about you, Ryler?” Laken raised an eyebrow.
He cleared his throat. “What about me?”
“Are you married? Any kids?”
Typical happily married female. She’d just met him and
was trying to fix him up with her buddy. She didn’t know
his heart had already experienced Shell Evans and never
recovered. “Nope. I guess y’all know each other.”
“Laken and I went to the same school in Searcy.” Shell’s
laugh dripped sarcasm. “Though in decidedly different
circles.”
“I never paid any attention to circles.” Laken smiled.
“My boss, Darrell Norton, set up a P.O. box for me.”
Sarcasm gone, still Shell’s frigid tone could chill a cold house rose.
“I’m supposed to pick up the key.”
“Sure.” Laken bent to search under her counter. “So, let me
introduce y’all.”
Ryler concentrated on filling out the form, as if he wasn’t
listening to their conversation.
“Too late. My boss hired Ryler to transform the grounds at
White Pearls 17
the Darden-Gifford House. We’re renovating it into a bedand-
breakfast.”
“Oh, I’ve always loved that place.” Laken handed her the
key. “What kind of work do you do?”
“I’m supposed to be an apartment manager, but when my
boss has a new project going, I play remodeling supervisor
and interior decorator, too.”
He gripped the pen tighter until his fingers turned white.
Darrell was never far from Shell.
Turning toward the exit, Shell waved. “I’ll see you around,
Laken. And, Ryler, I’ll see you bright and early.”
As the door closed behind Shell, Laken propped her
elbows on the counter. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”
Ryler swallowed but couldn’t find his tongue.
“She’s not married—you’re not married.”
He held both hands up, palms facing her. “I’m not looking
to get married.”
“I don’t think she has a very high opinion of herself.”
“Why? She’s gorgeous.”
Laken pointed at him. “I knew you thought she was pretty.”
He cleared his throat and handed her the completed form.
“On that note, I think I’ll go.”
“Hang on. Here’s your key.” She handed it to him.
“Thanks.” He hurried out.
Yes, Shell was as beautiful as she’d ever been.
And Darrell was still part of her picture. He’d always
seemed overly concerned for her when Ryler had worked the
golf course in Searcy.
Had things progressed between them? Was Darrell
housing his mistress in Rose Bud?
What did it matter? Things with Shell were long over. But
his bruised heart didn’t know it yet.
And right now, he needed to concentrate on the Krofts.
❧
“You taking up residence up here?” Darrell’s voice came from
behind Shell.
Standing a few feet from the balcony railing, she inhaled a
18 White Pearls
deep breath but didn’t turn to face him. “It’s peaceful.”
And on this project, she needed lots of peace.
“Just don’t lean on the railing again.” Darrell tucked Shell’s
hand in his elbow. “Let’s officially tour this treasure.”
That being-watched feeling crept up her spine. Her gaze
canvassed the lawn.
Ryler’s stare bored a hole through them as he squatted
amidst a pile of rocks and potting soil.
Shell turned away and opened the door. With the musty
smell carried away by the breeze, she inspected the house
more thoroughly. Propping her chin on one fist, she surveyed
the landing flanked by twin bedrooms with plank walls and
floors. A few bits of aged wallpaper and scraps of dingy
newspapers covered the walls, with glimpses of insulation
between the wood.
“The closets line an entire wall. We’ll cut them in half and
expand out to install a bathroom in each room.”
Ugly metal flues jutted from the wall in each room. “Please
tell me you don’t plan on putting in woodstoves.”
“I’d like to, but it wouldn’t be very feasible. Central heat
and air work much better.”
“We could find black iron potbellied stoves with electric
logs for looks.”
“Now you’re getting a feel for the place.”
Sheetrock and carpet would get this place in order. But
Darrell wanted the house restored, not remodeled.
“I want the original wall planking sanded, and the cracks
between each piece of wood filled. At some point there was
paneling, which left all the nail holes. Those will have to be
filled, too, and then the natural wood can be polyurethaned.”
A fresh coat of neutral paint would save the wide, baby
pink baseboards. The paneled walls in the landing could be
stripped to their original wood, leaving more nail holes and
cracks to fill.
Darrell opened the door opposite from the balcony to
reveal narrow steps. Flipping on the light, he gestured her
ahead of him.
White Pearls 19
Shell climbed to the attic. The long room boasted the
fancy window above the balcony. “Plenty of room to add a
closet and another bath.”
“I figure the only bathroom downstairs in the entry can
serve as a communal powder room for all guests, but we’ll
need another for the staff.”
She ticked off each one on her fingers. “How many
bathrooms do you plan to add?”
“Three upstairs, one in the attic, one in the downstairs
bedroom, and one for staff. Space won’t be a problem since
each room is rather large.”
No. Just time.
A fast plumber. Was there such a thing?
Oh, why had she let Darrell talk her into this project?
Because if not for Darrell and Eva, Shell might have ended
up like her mother.
“That’s all up here.” Darrell ushered her in front of him.
Shell led the way down from the attic and down the main
staircase.
The lone bedroom downstairs was the largest. Plenty of
room for the proposed bathroom. She strolled through the
spacious, once fancy living room.
“See the transom windows over the doors? All original for
circulation. The fireplace is original, too.”
The blackened fireplace needed to be torn out and
replaced, but Darrell would never agree. She continued into
the dining room with the large bay window and faded white
wainscot and into the large kitchen with ancient cabinets.
“We’ll cut off part of the pantry for a staff bathroom. The
original pump is out on the screened porch.” Darrell opened
a door off the dining room to reveal a narrow stairway.
Servants’ quarters. She climbed the passageway to a
bedroom. With no hallway, she had to walk through the first
room to get to the second identical one. Scraps of newspaper
covered the walls in the second room. Squinting, she made
out a date: February 1, 1890. Closets lined the dividing wall
in each room, back to back.
20 White Pearls
“Why are there newspapers on the walls?”
“To keep the wind from blowing through the cracks. They
didn’t have insulation back then. It was blown in later.”
Shell shivered. “Glad I didn’t live back then.”
“You’re definitely not the rough-it type.” Darrell grinned.
“There’s really no way to put in a hallway, so this will be a
suite. This first room will be a sitting area. The closets are
back to back, so we’ll take part of both for the bathroom, and
expand out into each room a bit. The second room will be
the bedroom.”
“It all sounds doable. You’ve thought of everything.”
“So how are the Chance withdrawals?”
She swallowed hard. “Doable. Barely.”
“Tell me again why he’s not with you.”
“You know why.”
“I’ve heard your reasons, but as much as you love him, he
should be with you. You’re his mother.”
“Savannah is his mother.”
“She’s his aunt. You’re his mother.”
“She’s his legal guardian. Why can’t you see he’s better
off with Savannah and Jake? This way, he’s got a good life
with two stable parents.” Without me. Without the specter of his
father.
She descended the stairwell, retracing her path to the front
entryway. Halfway through the living room, a hand clamped
over her elbow.
Gently, Darrell turned her to face him. “I just don’t—”
The front door opened and Ryler stepped inside the foyer.
Her breath caught.
Darrell let go of her.
Ryler cleared his throat. “Darrell, when you get a minute,
I need to compare notes with you on the fountains.”
Not wanting to get any closer to Ryler, she turned
sideways to let Darrell pass. “You go ahead. We’re done.”
“I’m meeting Eva for lunch, so I’ll have to head back to
Searcy soon.”
“It won’t take long.” Ryler backed out and Darrell followed.
White Pearls 21
Blowing out a deep breath, Shell hugged herself. Close
encounters of the Ryler kind.
❧
The balcony beckoned and Shell stepped out the windowed
door. Standing in the middle, away from the railing, she
listened to the constant squeals and giggles from the steady
stream of toddlers next door. She hugged herself. Next door
wasn’t just a house. It was an in-home day care.
Day two of trying to avoid Ryler. All morning, she’d
directed carpenters, picked replacement glass, and chosen
a just-right white paint for the siding. Several men on
scaffolding surrounded the house, measuring, prying rotted
wood, sanding cracked paint, and scraping old caulk from
window frames.
Her gaze kept drifting to Ryler as he unloaded sack after
sack of potting soil and mulch. He heaved another bag and
the muscles in his arms rippled. Oh, the feel of those arms
around her. She shivered. It would have been easier on them
both if he’d had his products delivered in bulk, but Darrell
didn’t want enormous piles in the carpenters’ way.
After dumping his load in the pile near the house, Ryler
turned and caught her eye.
Busted.
He pushed dark chocolate waves out of his face. “When
you get a chance, I need you to choose plants and tell me
where the beds will go.”
“I don’t know a thing about plants.”
“No problem. I do.”
No grin, no expression. The most animated she’d seen him
so far was yesterday at the post office. Did he have a thing
for married women? Or was it only Shell he shut down with?
“Can you come up here?”
“Sure.” He grabbed something from his truck and jogged
toward the house.
Working side by side with Ryler, picking plants, edging,
and fountains. Would she be capable of rational thought
as they hovered over catalogs, their heads huddled close
22 White Pearls
together, while her heart leapt around like a giddy teenager?
He’s just a man.
Within minutes, he strolled out onto the balcony and
shoved a catalog at her. “This will help. I’ll need you to
choose what kind of edging you want, too. I like using lots of
native rocks throughout the beds. It gives a masculine look
and not all B & B visitors will be women.”
Don’t think about how his hand almost touched hers just
then. “Good point. What about water fountains? Darrell
wants one on each side of the house.”
“They’re in the back of the catalog. Who’s that?”
Shell looked up from the catalog and he gestured toward
the long drive leading to the house.
A couple crossed the street. The man carried a casserole
dish and a plant, while the woman pushed a stroller.
Great, shove a baby in her face. Shell rolled her eyes.
“Probably the welcoming committee from the church.”
“Pack of do-gooders.”
At least they were like-minded on one issue. “I wish they’d
stay on their side of the road.”
“Me, too, but we better make nice. They could be potential
customers.”
By the time Shell and Ryler made it downstairs, the couple
was almost to the porch.
Shell got a better look at the woman and stifled a gasp.

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