Sweet Carolina Morning (15 page)

“It all sounds so delicious.” Linny's mouth watered. “Your chef sounds brilliant.”

“He's
stellar
. Other restaurant owners keep trying to steal him. I'm going to start carrying a pellet gun to run 'em off,” Marnie said, grinning as she lit the candles on the table. “Your server will be over directly. Have a lovely evening.” She strode away.

After the waiter took their drink order, they settled in. Jack was quiet, and he looked pensive. “What are you thinking?” Linny asked.

He looked away for a moment. “I feel bad for Neal. He's been through a lot and he didn't ask for any of it.”

“I know,” Linny said and shook her head sympathetically.

He exhaled and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “And now he's got more changes to manage with us getting married. Am I being selfish to drag him into . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head.

What was he saying? Was he changing his mind about marrying her? Linny searched his face, her heart racing at the doubts he was voicing. Reaching across the table, she took his hands. “Jack, Neal probably
is
having trouble adjusting to these changes, but our becoming a family is good for him. Together we add even more love and stability to his life.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, looking lighter, he gave her a slow smile. “You're right.”

Her heartbeat slowing, she added, “Plus, Ms. Courtland said not to assume his school problems are all because he's upset about our marrying.”

Jack brightened. “That little teacher has backbone. She didn't let us get railroaded when Vera was trying to put all the blame on us.”

Relieved they were back on solid ground, Linny leaned her elbow on the table and put her chin in her hand. “Funny; Vera didn't mention the part about her stirring things up by breaking dishes or talking trash about me to Neal.”

Jack smirked. “Must have slipped her mind.”

The waiter appeared with their drinks and they ordered, sticking with the specials Marnie had described.

Sipping her Chardonnay, Linny thought more about the meeting. “I was surprised Vera agreed Neal could see the school counselor.”

“I was, too,” Jack said, sipping his beer. “When Ms. Courtland said Neal needed to learn to talk about his feelings, I kept thinking about last fall.”

Linny winced, remembering that scary time when Neal ran away. After he came home safely, Jack had pushed Vera hard for Neal to see a therapist, but she'd balked at the idea. Chaz must have talked sense into her because she'd finally agreed. But the therapist she brought Neal to see was a family friend with a divinity degree and a part-time marriage counseling practice. Though the man was kindly, Linny doubted Neal did much sorting of his feelings. After four sessions, the counselor pronounced Neal cured.

Jack shook his head. “At least she's OK'd the counseling this time.”

Twirling the wine around in her glass, she tilted her head. “What's Chaz like?”

Jack looked away for a moment. “He's real smart; not one for small talk, a tough litigator. He may have political aspirations. On the side, he runs an investment fund for his buddies. He's done real well at it, made a lot of money for all of them.”

Linny gave his fingers another squeeze and was quiet for a moment. She thought about how strong-willed Vera was despite her soft voice and ethereal white-blond loveliness. “So they're both big personalities, but does Vera run that show?”

Jack gave a one-sided smile. “Nobody runs Chaz's show. He lets Vera run the house and spend his money, but he's no pushover.”

“Do you miss him?” she asked quietly. The two men had been best friends.

He shrugged, his mouth tight. “He was a good guy.”

Noting the past tense, Linny touched his hand again.

“Linny, my poodle!” cooed a woman with a towering haystack hairdo as she swept over and leaned in to kiss Linny.

“Diamond! How are you?” Linny gave a delighted laugh and eyed her affectionately. “Let me take in the wild outfit du jour.”

Diamond batted her unnaturally long eyelashes and gave a twirl to show off the sparkly earrings that brushed her shoulders, the clingy animal print blouse, and the postage stamp–sized skirt.

Linny grinned. Diamond's appearance invited others to underestimate her, but that would be a mistake. The woman was a brain and a wildly successful attorney. Clients just needed to get used to her Hollywood housewives getups and her phone calls from polo matches at Palm Beach or mud baths in the Mojave Desert. Linny turned to Jack. “Jack, this is my friend Diamond—the one who found where my thieving late husband stashed the money he took from me.” Diamond had traced Linny's missing money to a bank account in the Caymans, and harassed, threatened, and browbeat the management until they'd coughed up the cash.

“Amazing story,” Jack said, smiling. “Thanks for taking such good care of Linny,” he added solemnly.

Diamond gave a swooning sigh and gazed at Linny. “He's just a love lamb chop. I want one just like him.”

Jack looked befuddled, probably having never been called that before.

Linny sipped her water to hide her smile. Now he was trying not to stare at Diamond's shoes, glittering gladiator numbers with rows of gold spikes up the front. “What have you been up to?”

Diamond shook her head dolefully, her plumped lips in a pretty pout. “Just working like a dog. Work, work, work.”

“I see.” Linny grinned, eyeing the number of shopping bags emblazoned with the names of exclusive stores that were looped up her arms.

“Well, I have been shopping. It's just exhausting. I had to pop in here for a restorative,” she explained. “Mama said the furnishings at their getaway places were ‘tired.' I had to buy stuff for Figure Eight Island, for the Highlands house, and for Daddy's latest purchase, a houseboat on Lake Constance. So I bought . . .”

Linny stopped listening and daydreamed. Figure Eight and Highlands were Southern privileged-class beautiful but predictable, but a houseboat . . . Just like in
Sleepless in Seattle
. She pictured a darling miniature home, going to sleep to gentle rocking and the sound of waves lapping on the floor or deck or whatever Tom Hanks would have called it.

Diamond rolled her eyes as she finished her story. “. . . but of course they hardly spend time at any of the houses. Too busy with their eco travel trips to the Galápagos Islands and Vietnam. They're both wearing those shoes now where the heel is lower than the front.” She demonstrated with her hand, her palm lower than the fingers, and wrinkled her nose.

Jack nodded solemnly. Diamond was a lot to take in.

Diamond went on. “Anytime you all could use a getaway, just call me. Houses need to be lived in and loved.”

A waiter appeared with a martini glass on a tray, smiled, and proffered it to Diamond. “Thank goodness. I was parched,” she said. With her little finger daintily crooked up, Diamond drained the drink. She flashed a smile and gave a finger wave. “Ta-ta, lovies. See you soon.” She whirled away.

They were silent for a moment, both of their eyes following Diamond out the door. “Feels like a delightful hurricane just blew through,” Jack said. “Somehow I feel refreshed.”

“I know. She's a kick,” Linny said, nodding. “But there's depth under all that meringue. Last weekend Diamond hosted a fund-raiser for the Autism Society. Her nephew has Asperger's. Anyhow, she invited all her deep-pocketed friends and raised two hundred thousand dollars in one night. Mary Catherine told me.”

Jack gave a low whistle.

The waiter appeared and slid two artfully laid-out plates on the table.

Linny forked in a bite of the spicy pulled pork. “Mmmm.”

Jack popped a crispy oyster into his mouth and closed his eyes as he chewed. “I'm a happy man.”

Linny grinned. “So tell me more about our lunch tomorrow.”

“My folks will meet us at my place at eleven-thirty, and I've got to be back at work by one. I know you're busy with work. Can you just pick up some sandwiches on the way over?” Jack asked.

“Sure. I'll go to Earth and Sky. Just tell me what they like.” She tilted her head. “Is this a getting-to-know-you-better lunch, or are we going to negotiate about the engagement party?”

“Both,” Jack said and speared one of her hush puppies. “They like you already, I know.”

Linny nodded but had her doubts.

He swallowed and went on. “But Mama's probably going to try to convince us to let her throw a swanky engagement party.” He grimaced. “I told her we wanted things simple, but she only hears what she wants to hear.”

Linny took a bite of the slaw and chewed slowly, savoring it. She pointed her fork at him. “Did you tell her our plans for an odd backyard wedding?”

“I did, but it may have gone in one ear and out the other.” He looked chagrined. “Mama's got a knack for screening out news she thinks is unpleasant.”

She nodded, recalling the time her own mama had canceled her
News and Clarion
subscription because
they needed to start printing happier stories
. “My mother has that same knack.”

In a matter-of-fact tone, Jack said, “I did finally tell her you'd been widowed.”

Linny put down her fork and leaned forward, not sure if she wanted to know the answer to the question she needed to ask. “How did she take it?”

Jack patted her hand reassuringly. “She got a frozen look on her face for a second and then started going on about an orchestra that played big band music that a friend of hers had perform at her daughter's wedding.”

“So at least the truth is out,” she said softly and cocked her head. “Did you tell her I was widowed twice?”

“I did.” He gazed at her. “Lin, it's not a big deal.”

Linny would bet money it
was
a big deal for Ceecee. Remembering Kate's words about befriending mothers-in-law, Linny shivered inwardly. With one or two big black marks against her already, she'd have to work extra hard to win Ceecee over. “She talked about an orchestra at the wedding? She's not thinking about that for us, is she?”

“Probably,” Jack said with a rueful smile.

“We can handle it,” Linny said, her eyes catching his and holding them. But despite her show of confidence, inwardly she was still shaken by the earlier part of their conversation. Jack was still weighed down by guilt about Neal and seemed to have questions about marrying her. It was one thing that she was jittery about marrying again, but calm, centered, strong Jack being jittery . . . well, that was downright scary.

S
aturday at 11:00, Linny swung by Earth and Sky to pick up their food, her stomach in knots. She was all nerves about the lunch. The other meetings with Jack's parents had been so off kilter. She really, really wanted them to like her, and she needed to get on better footing with Ceecee. Rush was an old sweetie, but under her sweet smile and good manners, Ceecee was prickly, unpredictable. Linny gave a determined nod as she locked her car. She'd make Ceecee like her.

Wheeling her cart along the wooden floors of the market, she waved at Lil, who held up a hand and grinned as she did her usual sprint/walk around the store, checking on food and employees. After she picked up her takeout, Linny got in a line to check out and braced herself for the usual bored expression and condescending attitude that was de rigueur for clerks at Earth and Sky. But the girl with the half-shaved head actually made eye contact with her, smiled, and thanked her politely as she handed Linny the receipt. Her step was light as she walked to the car. Maybe her student, Tina, was on board and preaching the gospel of customer service to her frontline people. If the cashiers were pleasant, it would sure make shopping at this wonderful store an even better experience.

In the car she double-checked the bags to make sure they'd gotten the order right. They had. Per Jack's instructions, she'd ordered roast beef on a Kaiser roll for Rush and white meat chicken salad on wheat for Ceecee. For the extras she'd skipped right over the black cherry–infused iced tea and Chinese radicchio slaw, instead choosing plain sweet tea and Lay's potato chips. Jack had cautioned her,
Don't get too exotic on anything, now. Mama and Daddy aren't big on exotic.

As she tooled down the road to Jack's farm, she tried to remember if she'd let Roy out to go to the bathroom after breakfast. Dang. She hadn't. Glancing at the clock on the dash, she sped up. She could swing back by the house, let Roy out, and still be at Jack's farm for their luncheon with time to spare.

As soon as she opened the door to the trailer, Roy burst out of the house like a bullet train and raced into the yard. Poor guy had to go. After a few minutes she rounded him up, locked up, and slid back into the car. But when she turned the key, nothing happened. She tried two more times with no luck. She raked her fingers through her hair. Dang. Jack's parents already had to sit with the fact that she was twice widowed and not Vera. If she didn't make it to this get-to-know-you-better lunch, they'd add unreliable and flaky to their list of reasons she wouldn't fit into the family. Grabbing her purse, she found her phone. “Jack,” she breathed when he picked up, “my car won't start! I turn the key and nothing happens.”

“Slow down, now,” Jack said in a calm voice. “It may just be the battery and that's no big deal.”

Linny leaned back in her seat and willed herself to calm down. “Okay.”

Jack went on in a soothing tone. “Have you picked up lunch yet?”

“I have,” Linny said.

“Good. My folks will be here in a few minutes. Why don't we just swing by your house and we'll eat there?” he asked, sounding proud for finding the simple solution.

“Because my house is a bright blue single-wide trailer and it's so small, and I have stuff scattered all over and . . .” She paused to draw in a breath, hearing a rushing sound in her ears.

“Do you want me to just reschedule lunch?” he asked, sounding reasonable.

They couldn't delay it any longer. Today she and Jack needed to nip in the bud any plans for an extravagant engagement party. “No,” she said. “Y'all head on over here. Just warn them that my place is nothing fancy.”

“Lin, relax. My parents don't judge people,” Jack said, a smile in his voice.

“Right.” Linny rolled her eyes, imagining country club Ceecee's face when she saw the trailer.

Ending the call, she took her iced tea from the Earth and Sky cardboard caddy and took a long swig. Willing the caffeine to give her wings, she hurried into the trailer. Time for a whirlwind of cleaning and tidying.

Her place was a mess. She'd been so busy writing proposals for work, running around on wedding jaunts with Kate, and hanging out with Jack and Neal that she'd let things go, swearing to herself she'd tidy up over the weekend. Now Linny flew around the house, tossing Roy's chew bones, strewn socks, newspapers, tennis shoes, and fleeces in the laundry basket to shove in a closet. Gathering up dirty glasses and plates, she hurriedly hand washed them and put them up. She glanced at her phone. They'd be here in less than fifteen minutes. After a frantic waltz around the trailer with the Hoover, she dusted the tabletops and, as an afterthought, spritzed some Pledge around each room like air freshener.

Hands on hips, she glanced around. Better, she decided. But she was red-faced and perspiring from the mad dash. Opening the door of the trailer, she fanned it back and forth to cool off and flapped her shirt away from her body and back. Glancing up, she saw her guests approaching the porch steps. Jack's eyes twinkled, Rush tried to hide a smile, and Ceecee's eyes were round. Gasping quietly, Linny tried to recover. “Welcome!” she called, wincing inwardly as she realized she'd used the docent-at-the-history-museum voice that came out of her mouth when she was anxious.

Ceecee smiled brightly and waved a hand at the bright blue trailer. “Your home is so . . . colorful. It reminds me of the pretty little pink and blue and yellow houses we saw in Positano when we were in Italy last year, doesn't it, Rush?”

Apparently well trained, Rush nodded. “Just like Positano, honey.”

Linny beckoned them inside, holding open the door. “Come on in. I'm sorry for the change in plan.”

“No problem, Lin,” Jack said. “I'll look at your car after lunch.”

Smiling graciously, Ceecee made an odd lurch toward the porch but made no forward progress and began whirling her arms to keep her balance.

Linny gasped. Ceecee's pink kitten heels were mired deep in the thawing clay of the path to the house. Jack and Rush saw the problem and sprang into action.

“Stand still, Mama,” Jack said, catching her arm to steady her.

Rush leaned down to pull her leg and Ceecee's foot came out of her shoe. “It was in there good, honeykins. Now you just be still and I'll get your shoe yanked out.”

Linny spun around and dashed into the kitchen, unspooling a length of paper towels from the roller and grabbing the yellow and black zebra striped gardening clogs she kept by the door for foul weather walks with Roy.

A few moments later Ceecee was perched on the sofa right between Jack and Linny and smiling brightly, looking festive in her pink floral suit and zebra clogs. Her rinsed-off shoes sat drying on a paper towel by the kitchen sink, but their dancing days were over. Rush sat on the wing chair, his long legs crossed, looking as cheerful and relaxed as if he were in his own den watching the State game on TV.

Ceecee looked around the tiny living room. “Your place is so . . . cozy,” she said. “How long have you lived here, dear?”

“Not quite a year,” Linny said.

“Where did you live before?” Ceecee asked sweetly.

She was fishing for information to gauge Linny's place in society. Linny crossed her legs, trying to look like the relaxed lady of the house instead of irritated. “I lived in Silver Birch,” she said quietly.

Ceecee put a manicured hand to her chest, her charm bracelet jingling. “Oh my. Such a lovely community. Our friends, the Suttons, looked at houses there when they were thinking about downsizing. . . .”

Linny hid a smile, not looking at Jack. She'd bet him a quarter they'd get an update on his ex-wife's family during their lunch with his parents.

Rush chimed in, talking over Ceecee as he glanced around the trailer. “I think it's a dandy place. Compact but room for everything.” He nodded approvingly. “Reminds me of that little cracker box of a house that Mother and I rented when we first got married.”

Linny sat back on the sofa and nodded encouragingly at Rush and then at Ceecee as they did their talk-simultaneously routine. The first time she'd witnessed it, she'd been baffled, but now she found herself enjoying their crazy way of talking. It didn't seem to bother them a whit, and it made her and Jack look like gifted communicators.

Not done with her news on the Suttons and certainly not ready to cede the floor, Ceecee trilled on. “They said the community was fabulous, but they weren't quite ready to give up the big house. They just hired more help, I believe.” She gave a tinkling laugh.

Rush was chuckling. “We didn't have two nickels to rub together, and Mother said if I sneezed in one room, she'd bless me from the next. It was a shotgun shack really, or that's what they called it in those days . . .”

Ceecee chattered on blithely. “. . . and they live over in Grandview, which is a simply lovely neighborhood, but those old houses are so hard to maintain.” She shook her head sympathetically.

Rush finished his reminiscence. “. . . because you could shoot a shotgun through the front door and out the back without hitting anything. We have lots of fond memories of that little bitty house, don't we, Mother?”

Ceecee seemed to have caught Rush's last bit because her face grew as pink as the peonies on her dress and she said crossly, “Goodness, Daddy, I hardly remember. It was such a long time ago.”

Ah. Linny started to get it now. Ms. Country Club came from humble beginnings and was a tad uncomfortable with that piece of history.

Jack rose. “Let's have lunch. I'm starving and I need to get back to work.”

Glad for the distraction, Linny jumped up and hurriedly placed napkins on her old Formica table while Jack pulled sandwiches from the paper bag and sorted them. At the kitchen cabinet, she hesitated and peered at the unmatched china plates, thrift store finds she used every day. She loved their patterns of country roses, castles and graceful trails of indigo blue ribbon. Would Ceecee think they were tacky? She had a set of plain white stoneware, too. She could be safe and use those. Linny paused for a moment, lifted her chin and grabbed the china.

A few moments later they sat at the table and dug in.

Ceecee patted her mouth with a paper napkin. “This sandwich is divine.” She turned her bright eyes from Jack to Linny and back to Jack. “Now, what did y'all think about my ideas for the engagement party?”

Jack gave his mother a level look. “They were a bit much, Mama.”

Ceecee held up a jingly charm-braceleted hand in a stop sign and smiled. “Nonsense, darling. We
want
to do it for you. You're our only son and you only get to do this once. . . .” She glanced at Linny and trailed off, flushing. After a reviving sip of iced tea, she went on. “It will be just lovely.”

Jack shook his head slowly. “It's not about the money, Mama. We appreciate your kind offer, but we don't want anything that fancy.”

Linny chewed her turkey sandwich and watched, silently rooting for Jack. His mother was a sweet bulldozer, but he was holding his own.

Ceecee pursed her lips and looked like she couldn't believe what she'd heard but, gamely, tried again. “But this is a celebration! A moment in time to share your joy with the whole world!”

“But we only want to share it with family and our closest friends,” Jack said patiently. Pointing a thumb at Linny, he gave a wry grin. “It was hard enough to convince this one not to just get hitched at the magistrate's office.”

Ceecee's head swiveled and she stared at Linny. “Oh my goodness, sugar. We couldn't let you do that.” She nodded determinedly. “We'll do something small at the club. . . .”

“I've got a serious question for you, Linny,” Rush barked, frowning.

Her pulse quickened. Rush was an attorney and probably born suspicious. Was he going to cross-examine her about how her two husbands died? Linny sat up straighter and tried to look like an innocent woman. “Shoot,” she said, immediately regretting her choice of words.

He cocked his head. “Who did these great wood floors for you?” He bent over in his seat and stared at the wood grain. “This is reclaimed wood, heart pine, right?”

Linny exhaled and smiled at Rush, admiring his aw-shucks way of perfectly deflecting the tension caused by his wife. “My best friend's son had this idea about using salvaged wood. So we went to Habitat, found these floors from a little bungalow they'd torn down, and he and I put them in ourselves.” She nodded proudly. “We got help from those how-to sites on the internet.”

Rush whistled appreciatively, rose, and strode over to peer at the transition between the kitchen and living room floors. “Slick. Very professional.” He turned to look at Jack. “Son, you've found a little lady who is smart enough to figure out how to lay floors and hardworking enough to put 'em down. You'd better marry her quick.”

“I plan to,” Jack said firmly. Glancing at the clock on the stove, he said, “This has been great, but I've got to get back to the office.” He turned to Linny as he found his coat and pulled it on. “Lin, let me look at your car. Are your keys in it?”

Linny nodded yes.

Rush leaped to his feet. “I'll help, Son.” Rubbing his hands together, he slipped on his coat, muttering, “We'll check for a dead battery, check the starter . . .” The two men strode out the door.

Linny cleared plates from the table and put them in a tub of soapy water in the sink.

Ceecee clomped over to the sink in her clogs carrying glasses and silverware. Picking up a dish towel, she announced, “I'll dry.” As Linny handed her the dripping plates, Ceecee wiped each briskly and thoroughly. “I think families these days miss out because of dishwashers. Some of the best talks I ever had with Jack when he was a boy happened when we washed dishes together after supper. You know how those boys get to an age where they don't want to talk? For some reason he'd talk when he was drying.” She gave Linny a wistful smile.