Page 107 of Sweet Talking Man


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Abigail shook her head and moved past him. "We'll talk later."

And then she turned and walked out of the room, effectively dismissing him. Her family closed ranks, Reverend Beauchamp and Matt leaving the room behind her. Abigail belonged to them. She belonged to Magnolia Bend.

He had no one. Bullet to the chest.

"Chin up," Hilda whispered, taking his arm."You need a drink stat, and then you need to tell me why in the hell you did this."

"I didn't."

Hilda arched an eyebrow, but kept smiling as they passed other attendees. She maneuvered them toward the bar, where she bought him a double whiskey. He didn't hesitate in downing it promptly.

"Slow down and tell Auntie Hilda what that whole thing was about. Did you draw that?"

''Of course, but it was for my eyes only."

"Then how did it get here?"

Leif shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it. I need to talk to Abigail."

"Not yet. Give her some time. The poor girl looked like she'd been strip-searched and then asked to eat a beetle. The bug kind, not the rock group."

"Shit," Leif breathed, rubbing a hand over his face.

At that very moment, a man tapped Hilda on the shoulder. When Leif caught sight of Senator Orgeron, he felt pretty sure he lost every bit of color in his face. Things were happening too fast, spinning out of control. He couldn't deal with this now.

"Hilda," Everett said, bestowing a kiss on Hilda's cheek. "Someone mentioned you were looking for me."

"Ah, Finch, you old rascal. I'm always looking for handsome men," she replied with a genuine smile.

"So I see." Everett turned to Leif, his hand extended. ”Everett Orgeron."

"Leif Lively,'' Leif said, shaking the man's hand. His grip was firm, not crushing. ''Nice to meet you."

"Likewise,'' he said, before returning his gaze to Hilda. "So what would an accomplished lady such as yourself want with an old tramp like me?"

Hilda batted her eyelashes. "Well, actually I wanted to introduce you to my friend Leif. He's an artist."

Everett's eyes widened. "Oh, he's the one who did the boudoir portrait of the preacher's daughter? Now that was quite a bold one, son."

The way he saidsonmade Leif's heart ache. Could this man be his father? He searched for similarities but could find none. "I'm not sure I should say thanks. Seems to have caused a scandal."

"It's art, for pity's sake." Everett waved a hand. "So why was Hilda so intent on our meeting? I'm assuming it has to do with a bill on the arts? Something I need to bring to committee? I'm always ready to listen."

''Not really," Leif said, catching the encouraging gleam in Hilda's eye. "I actually had some questions for you about my mother."

"Oh?" Everett said, his eyes narrowing a bit.

"My mother was an artist named Calliope. She was-"

Everett did a double take. "Wait... Calli was your mother?"

Leif nodded.

"My God," Everett said, shaking his head, a warm expression on his face. "I can't believe it. I knew your mother well."

Leif’s pulse kicked up. "Did you?"

"We dated the entire summer she was here. Guess you could say she was my first love. Then one night she just disappeared. Not even a letter left for me. Damn near broke my heart." A small dimple appeared in his cheek as his smile widened.

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