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Forrest stepped in front of Twyla. “What do you want, Ludwig?”
“So you do recognize me.”
Forrest refrained from admitting anything with Twyla near.
Lifting one corner of his mouth, Ludwig flipped the pin again. “Just thought I’d knock over a few pins. See what fun folks find in it.”
Forrest snatched the pin out of the air. If he needed proof someone had been sneaking around, here it was. “The likes of you aren’t welcome here.”
“Well, now, I don’t think your pappy would take kindly to hearing you talk to me like that. He ain’t gonna like what you did with the place, either.” Leaning slightly to shoot a leer at Twyla, Ludwig added, “For the most part, that is.”
Forrest tossed the pin onto the couch before he stepped forward and grabbed Ludwig by the shirt front. “While you’re telling my pappy,” Forrest said, “tell him he’s not welcome around here, either.”
Nasty Nick struggled and tried to tug off Forrest’s hands, but his hold merely tightened. Being half a foot taller than the thug, Forrest lifted Ludwig until his toes dangled above the floor.
“Remind him, too—my pappy, that is—that’s he’s not dealing with a scared little kid anymore.” Tossing Ludwig against the wall, Forrest waited until the man had found his feet before he added, “Remind him of that, would you?”
Ludwig glared, but spun around. However, before he was all the way through the doorway, Nick turned around. “You’re gonna be sorry you returned.”
“I already am,” Forrest snapped. Catching the surprise in Ludwig’s eyes, he added, “And you just made it worse.”
The man dashed down the hallway, and a moment later, the slam of the glass-paneled front door echoed over the noise of the people bowling on the other side of the dining room.
Forrest spun around, half expecting to see Twyla a shivering heap on the couch. She wasn’t shivering. Or on the couch. Instead, she was standing right behind him, holding the bowling pin with one hand. Slapping the fat end of the pin against her other palm, she asked, “Ready to show me those bowling lanes? I suspect someone wants their pin back.”
A mixture of shock, anger, pride and disgust swirled inside him. He’d never been oblivious to his home life, but he’d tried to keep the corruption hidden from the Nightingale sisters at all costs. Now was no different.
Twyla lifted an eyebrow in question. He didn’t want her leaving right now, not with Nasty Nick hanging around, so Forrest said nothing as he once again gestured toward the door.
* * *
If her legs gave out on her now, Twyla swore she’d cut them off at the knees, or maybe even at the thighs, considering it was her knees that were shaking. They had been ever since that nasty thug had thrown open the door. If a fistfight had come about, she was certain Forrest would have won. He was taller and beefier than the other man, but she’d collected the bowling pin and stood ready just in case. The pin was heavier than it looked, and she figured a couple of good clubs over the head would have sent the thug to the floor.
Questions swirled in her brain, but she knew Forrest wasn’t prepared to answer any of them, so she wouldn’t ask. There’d be time for that later. Once he realized he wasn’t alone in this fight against Galen. Never would be again.
With a slight nod, she started for the door, and thanked her legs profusely for cooperating. Ludwig, as Forrest had called the man, had been at Palooka George’s party last night. Twyla set the name deep in her head to ask Norma Rose about him. Right now, she was focused on Forrest, and would pretend to be amazed by his bowling alley.
And that notion turned out to be easier than expected. Her reaction was a surprise because it wasn’t a nightclub. Speakeasies such as the resort—though it irritated everyone else in her family when she referred to Nightingale’s as that—were her favorites. That was where fun was to be had.
Although she’d rarely been inside the Plantation, visiting only a few times when Forrest had lived there years ago, she did remember how impressive it had been. With its large white pillars and three stories, the building had always been the most magnificent for miles around. It might as well have had curtains made of dollar bills, it shouted money so clearly, and that, too, was what she loved above all else.
From Forrest’s office they’d turned left and walked down the hallway to the front entrance, which held a coatroom on one side and a wide, curving staircase leading upstairs. A red velvet rope with gold ties was stretched across the staircase, discouraging people from going up.
Double doors leading from the entrance led to a dining room, one she barely recognized. She’d been in this room for Forrest’s graduation party. Heavy drapes had hung from the windows then and dark carpet had covered the floor. Charcoal-colored linoleum with white specks now stretched from wall to wall, and several small round tables with two or four chairs were spread about. Sunlight filled the room from windows covered with nothing but short valances across their tops. The wooden bar, with a long mirror behind it, still lined the far wall, but the people sitting on the stools were drinking soda pop or slurping up ice-cream sodas. A short stage, one step up from the floor, was angled in the far corner and right now two young boys were pounding on the piano keys.
