That seemed to slow Piper’s attack, but not end it. She dropped the not-so-subtle hint that a man was free until the vows were spoken, and it had taken everything Caleb had not to confess the truth right then and there.
“That was our last call of the day,” Gerald said, as the pair climbed into his white 2000 Buick. Caleb wondered if the interior had been black upon purchase, or if all the smoke accumulated over fifteen years had turned it that way.
The last call had been with an insurance agent more interested in talking about sports than advertising. Caleb’s new mentor had convinced his client to double his holiday ad spending from the previous year. Insurance wasn’t exactly the type of business that experienced a boom from Christmas shopping, but that hadn’t stopped Gerald.
The man might be as old as dirt, smoke two packs a day, and drink the most disgusting coffee ever brewed, but he knew how to sell advertising.
“Do you typically visit five clients a day?” Caleb asked, adding to the mental notes he’d been taking. “How far in advance do you set up these appointments?”
Gerald shook his head after lighting another cigarette. “I see the same clients on the same days at the same time every week. There is no appointment setting.”
He’d heard of a stringent schedule, but this seemed extreme. “What about new clients?”
The driver turned to blow smoke out the window before answering. “In case you haven’t noticed, Ardent Springs isn’t very big. The concept of new clients doesn’t come into play much.” Asking his first somewhat personal question of the day, Gerald said, “How long have you been here?”
“Since Saturday afternoon,” Caleb answered. “I came to live with my fiancée.” When he’d mentioned the word during lunch, Gerald didn’t seem to notice.
“I thought you were making that up to get Piper off your tail,” he said, revealing the older man paid more attention than he let on.
Caleb shook his head as he leaned toward his open window, desperate for clean air. “No, I was serious. We haven’t made it official, with rings and all, but Snow and I are together.”
Gray brows shot up a long forehead. “Snow of Snow’s Curiosity Shop?”
With such an unusual name, Caleb would have thought the answer was obvious. “One and the same.”
A low chuckle filled the car. “That should make your life interesting.”
“How so?” Caleb asked, curious what Gerald Nichols might know about his wife.
Tipping his ashes out the window, Gerald gave Caleb a bright, denture-perfect smile. “Snow is Piper’s client. I believe they have a standing Monday visit.”
Caleb hadn’t told Piper who his fiancée was, and he hadn’t told Snow he was taking a job at the paper. Mostly because he wasn’t aware of the fact himself when he’d left the house this morning.
“Do you think . . . ?”
“Oh, I’m sure of it,” Gerald said, looking more entertained than he had all day. “If I know Piper, and I should since I’ve worked with her for fifteen years, you might want to pick up flowers on your way home.”
“Right,” Caleb said. “I might do that.”
Snow’s afternoon had bounced between fleeting images of Piper Griffin bouncing spare change off her husband’s bottom, and a nearly uncontrollable urge to call said husband and tell him exactly what she thought of his new situation. The biggest thing keeping her from making the phone call was the fact that Snow had no idea how she felt about anything at the moment.
The day had started well enough. She had a plan. Her life would be back to normal before Christmas. But then Snow had learned that Caleb spent the day putting lusty fantasies into the minds of who knew how many Ardent Springs residents of the female persuasion. A revelation that turned Snow a shade of green she neither welcomed nor liked to acknowledge.
But dammit, she was jealous.
This was her husband’s fault. Not that she ever truly forgot his physical attributes, but he’d made her like him as a person. To appreciate his strength, sense of humor, and gentle nature. If he were nothing more than a pretty face, she wouldn’t be wanting to punch Piper Griffin in the throat right now.
Oh, yes. Caleb was definitely to blame.
Arriving home at the end of her day, she was prepared to let her husband have the full brunt of her disapproval, until she entered the apartment and the scent of fried chicken filled her senses. Not just any fried chicken, but Granny’s fried chicken.
This meal could not have come from Miss Hattie.
“Am I smelling what I think I’m smelling?” Snow asked, dropping her purse into a chair and then tossing her coat over the back. “There’s no way you’ve made Granny’s fried chicken.” Even as she said the words, Snow’s mouth watered.