Softly and Tenderly (7 page)
“Yes.”
He exhaled like a charging bull and bolted from the room.
Jade tapped the pen on the desk and then threw it at the doorway. “I said, ‘Don’t shoot the messenger.’”
When June came down from the loft, the morning light had hurdled the Main Street shop roofs and landed on the Blue Umbrella’s glistening floor.
Jade was in her office, so June peeked inside. “Shall I run across to Plumbs and get some of Mae’s sticky buns?”
Her daughter-in-law snapped the filing cabinet drawer shut. “Max knows.”
June stiffened and the light barely shining in her soul flickered. “You told him?”
“I had to, June. He asked.” Jade walked into the shop with a handful of fliers and business cards for the edge of the glass-top sales counter. “Rebel called looking for you, and Max started asking questions.”
“How’d he take it?”
“How do you think he took it?”
“I’m sorry, Jade.”
“Are you? Really? Then why didn’t you tell Max yourself?”
If June had the courage, she would’ve. “I’ll talk to him.”
Jade stooped to pick up a UPS package left by the counter. “And why have you let Reb step out on you for all these years?” She peered into June’s eyes. “It has been years, right?”
“‘Love keeps no record of wrong,’ Jade, if I recall Scripture accurately.”
“And ‘Thou shall not commit adultery,’ if I recall Scripture accurately,” Jade shot back.
“‘Forgive seventy-times-seven times.’” June watched Jade disappear into her office and come out with empty arms.
“Seventy times seven? He’s cheated on you that many times?”
June crossed to her daughter-in-law. “Don’t hate him, Jade. I’ve learned to deal with Rebel despite his flaws. He’s a good man, in his way.” So she’d convinced herself. “Now I’m going grocery shopping. Can I get you anything?” June slung her bag over her shoulder.
“Good man? How can a ‘good man’ keep cheating on you?”
June considered the question, patting her lips together, careful not to smear her lipstick. “I suppose we’re back to ‘love keeps no record of wrong.’”
“But where does Scripture command us to allow ourselves to be wronged over and over?”
“I’m not sure it does.” Until now, June had endured Rebel’s wanderings to pay the penalty for her own sin. To be sure her penance was at last complete. And when she found her payment complete, then and only then would she
not
go back to him.
At The Market, June eased her Lexus into a slot right up front. Getting out, she cleansed her soul with the crispness of the day. Noticing the grocery cart by her car, June grabbed hold and wheeled toward the store, dropping her Birkin into the kiddie seat.
She’d shop devil-may-care today. No list. No mind toward eating healthy.
June just touched the store’s portico when she stopped short, her floating emotions deflating and sinking. Claire Falcon exited The Market’s second door, her cart loaded, her white-blonde hair piled on her head and held in place with a pink head scarf.
Pausing to put her wallet in her bag, Claire shifted her gaze and froze when her eyes glanced over June. Their eyes met, and telepathic passion exploded between them.
Claire lurched into a hasty, sloppy run, her heels skidding over the slick, painted pavement. Her loaded cart swerved and rattled across the roadway and up the main thoroughfare. “Stay away from me, June.”
“Hold up, hussy!” June dashed after Claire, her empty cart shimmying and shaking.
“Stay away, June. I’m warning you.” Claire circled her Escalade and peeked at June over the hood, keeping the vehicle between them. “Come nearer, and I’ll call the police.” She fumbled around inside her purse, raised a small tube. “And zap you with this . . . mace.”
“Do it. Zap me. Call the police. I’d love to tell my side.” June stalked and circled the SUV, ramming her cart into Claire’s.
“Are you crazy?” Claire backed away, tripping on the curb, losing a brown pump in the process. “June, come on, this isn’t the place.”
“Oh really? Then where?” June rammed Claire’s cart again. “My house? The club? At the spring dance? I could have the bandleader dedicate a song to all the women Reb’s bedded. How about a duel in Laurel Park? Ooo, even better, up on Eventide Ridge.”
“Are you threatening me?” Claire hunched close to her cart, white-knuckling the handlebar.
“How do you have any right for indignation? I caught you half-naked with my husband, Claire.”
“You could let me explain.”
“Explain?” June crossed her arms and waited.
This ought to be rich
. “There’s an explanation? Well, then what am I all riled about? Let’s hear it, all the glorious details of how you came to be naked with my husband in my own home.”
“He told me you two were . . . well, that you two had an agreement,” Claire said through a clinched jaw.
“Agreement? What kind of agreement?” June shoved her cart out of the way and stepped toward Claire. “You’re lying.”
“Honest to heaven, June. Reb told me that you two, well, stepped out on each other once in a while. He made it sound like an open marriage. I saw it on
Oprah
once. Did you see that episode?”
“Oh my stars . . .
Oprah
? Claire, are you so stupid?” Hands on her hips, June bent toward Claire. “Do I look like a woman who’d live in an open marriage?”
“Well, no. But the prim and proper women are the ones who shock us the most. I didn’t see why he’d lie to me?”
“You couldn’t see why he’d lie?” Ha! “Reb got exactly what he wanted, Claire. Sex without consequences.”
A couple of women heading for their cars slowed and lowered their voices as if to listen.
“Hey, busybodies, this is none of your business. Scoot, scoot.” June flicked her hand toward them. They hurried past. “Claire, did you think to challenge him? And you came to my house. Did he tell you I didn’t mind if he brought his whores home?”
“That’s enough, June.” Her faced paled, and she shimmied like an uprooted reed. “There’s been a misunderstanding—”
“Misunderstanding? Adultery is a misunderstanding?”
“If you’ll hear me out, June . . . I’m sorry for what happened, but I’m not a whore.” Claire shoved the mace back into her bag, her hand trembling. “During my divorce from Walt, Reb was so kind to me. One night at the club he gave me advice that saved me financially. Then it seemed I saw him everywhere. We started talking one night at Diamond Joe’s, and he asked me to dinner. I was flattered. I mean, Rebel Benson. I remember him from high school and thought a man like him would never go for a girl like me.”
“He’s
married
, Claire.”
“All right, June. I get it. I was stupid. But believe it or not . . .” Her voice quivered and it angered June. She didn’t want her compassion stirred. “I trusted him.” A single rivulet ran down Claire’s polished cheek. “I’m not proud of what I did, but Reb made me feel special, made me feel desired and wanted. He’s so exciting, powerful, and handsome.”
Claire’s words and sentiment resonated, adding color to the reason June returned to Reb year after year, indiscretion after indiscretion.
“You are one of dozens, Claire. The latest in a list of women he’s made feel
special
. Don’t be foolish.” June yanked her cart and started to back away, gathering her sympathies and compassion. Enough of this. She’d not feel solidarity with the woman she’d caught with her husband.
“One of dozens?” Claire lifted her chin. The wind whipped the end of her scarf against her cheek. “Well now, doesn’t that make you feel all warm and fuzzy, June? Who’s the real fool standing here?”
June walked toward The Market, head high, back straight, eyes swimming, heart bleeding.
Two a.m. Jade jumped out of Max’s Mercedes before he came to a complete stop. “Oh my gosh.” She pressed her hands to her face.
No, no, no
. The bed of a Ford F-350 protruded from the front window of the Blue Two.
A Chattanooga police officer stopped her from rushing into the shop. “Can’t go in there.”
“But it’s my shop.”
“Are you Jade Benson?” He backed her up to the parking lot.
“That’s my shop.” She clutched the side of her head. “What happened?” Her shop. Her pain-in-the-butt shop. Smashed. The scene overwhelmed her. Poor Blue Two. Max’s hand slipped over her shoulder along with his low whistle.
“The Blue Two has looked better, babe.”
“Couple of kids were street racing.” The office indicated the riverfront lane. “One of them lost control and ran right through your front door.”
“Is he okay?” Max asked in such a way Jade knew his lawyer mind was churning.
“Yes,
she
is. Banged-up face and broken arm. The air bags saved her. Good thing Fords are ‘built to last.’”
“Can I go in?” Jade pressed past the officer toward the gaping opening. In the light of the street, she could see jagged, heavy shards of glass dangling from the main window frame.
“The firefighters have been going in and out on the far left side”—the officer pointed—“but be careful. There’s a lot of glass, ma’am. And the front is pretty unstable.”
“Let me go first.” Max pulled her back, following the police spotlight through the opening, clearing debris with a large stride, stepping over a support beam.
The front displays were ruined, smashed by the blow of the truck, its heavy tires resting on piles of clothes. The collection of antique jewelry boxes Jade had just found and put on display had splintered against the hardwood floor. She stooped to gather the pieces in her palm, so rare and precious.
“Such foolishness,” she muttered, feeling hollow.
“I’m sorry, babe.” Max ran his hand over her hair. “Is this where I say ‘bad things happen for good reasons’?”
“Not if you love me.” Jade walked the broken porcelain pieces to the sales counter on the opposite wall.
“Mrs. Benson, here’s a copy of the report.” The officer handed a paper to her, but she passed it on to Max. “Your insurance company will want it.”
“In triplicate.” Max folded up the report, slipping it into his pocket. “I’m going to give this to Tom, Jade. Let him deal with it. He’s not Benson Law’s insurance expert for nothing.”
“That’s great for tomorrow, but what are we going to do about this . . . now?” In the pale white street glow, Jade fit two of the largest pieces together. The delicate angel wings barely fit together. A chunk was missing in between. Jade slipped the pieces into her pocket.
Inspecting the rest of the shop, Jade was relieved to find most of the damage was contained to the front. With her adrenaline rush fading, her body absorbed the burden of weariness and concern.
Before the phone had startled her awake, she’d been sleeping well, finally, after a midnight session with Max about June and Rebel.
Max told her how he’d confronted his dad at the office, but Rebel only acknowledged that June had found him in the media room. Then Max drove up to Whisper Hollow, where his mom confirmed the truth.
“Ma’am?” The officer motioned to the middle of the shop with his flashlight. “I recommend locking your inventory in the storeroom until you can board up.”
“Babe, did you bring your keys?” Max picked up a bulky display table and started toward the back, the muscles of his arms taut under his sleeves.
The whole thing was so overwhelming . . . Jade whirled around at the sound of crunching. A tow truck had disengaged the Ford from the busted window. The loose glass pane wobbled before releasing from the frame and crashed on the pavement with the tinkling of a thousand glasses.
The officer hit the opening with his light. “You got about a ten-foot hole that says, ‘Thieves, come on down and help yourselves.’”
“I feel like I’m in a horror movie.” Jade stooped to pick up a pile of clothes thrown from one of the smashed tables.
Max held his iPhone. “I’m texting Kip to get some of his crew down here ASAP in the morning to board up. Then see how quick he can contract and get this place fixed.”
A couple of the firefighters finished knocking loose glass and debris to the ground, then joined the effort to move the inventory to the storeroom. The shop was emptied in short order, and by 3 a.m., Jade and Max were walking to his car.
Jade had just settled in her seat when her phone rang. She answered with a weary sigh.