Welcome to Serenity (21 page)

“Celebrate it?” he asked, looking bewildered. She shook her head, exasperated. “Why did I think you’d be any help with this?”

“Come on, Mary Vaughn. I’m no good at planning this kind of thing. You were always in charge of the holidays. I just went along for the ride. What do you think it’s going to take to make Rory Sue happy? I could finally give her that new convertible she’s been wanting.”

“Absolutely not,” Mary Vaughn said at once. “This isn’t about buying her off. We’d agreed that you’d give her the convertible when she graduates from college. The car she has will do just fine until then.”

He shrugged, but didn’t argue. “Then I’m at a loss.”

“I know what she wants more than anything,” Mary Vaughn ventured at last. “She wants us to be together the way we used to be.”

Sonny frowned. “What the devil are you suggesting, Mary Vaughn? That we get married again just to make our daughter happy even if it makes us miserable?”

She flushed at his immediate and insulting reaction.

“No, of course not,” she said defensively. “I’m just saying that maybe we could all put aside our differences and do things together for the holidays.”

His expression relaxed. “What kind of things?”

She thought of the committee’s plan to go hunting for the town tree. “We could go out and chop down a Christmas tree together,” she suggested. “Remember how much Rory Sue always loved that? She said it was the best part of Christmas.”

“I suppose,” he said doubtfully. “You think that’ll do it?”

“No, of course not,” she said impatiently. “But it’s a start. Maybe we can go to Charleston shopping one day. The stores will be all decorated and festive.”

“And crowded,” Sonny predicted direly.

“Oh, stop being such a grouch. That’s part of the fun. We can stop at Lydia’s Bakery on the way home and have hot chocolate and sugar cookies the way we used to when Rory Sue was little.” She gave him a wistful look. “Don’t you wish she was still young enough to want to see Santa?

Sometimes I take out all those pictures we have of her back then. She was the prettiest little girl in the whole wide world, wasn’t she?”

“She was,” Sonny agreed. “Still is, for that matter.”

Since he was starting to sound more nostalgic and agreeable, she smiled at him. “If you’ll go along with the shopping trip, you can carry all the packages and I’ll pay for them. How’s that for fair?”

He shook his head. “You have a strange notion about what’s fair, you know that, don’t you?” he said, but there was a hint of tolerant amusement in his eyes. “Any other big ideas?”

She thought back to the holiday celebrations in the past and what had made them special. “We should go to church together on Christmas Eve, have a big Christmas dinner at my place, then go caroling over at the nursing home the way we used to. Would that interfere with anything you have planned?”

“No,” he admitted, though he didn’t seem all that enthralled by the plan. “You including my dad in this?”

“Of course. Rory Sue would expect him to be with us. With your mom gone and your brothers scattered across the country, it’ll be good for him to have a real family Christmas again, too. Don’t you think so?”

“I suppose,” Sonny said. He gave her a skeptical look.

“And you honestly think that a few days of faking it will make Rory Sue happy?”

“We don’t have to fake it,” she said. “We used to have fun together, Sonny. I can remember when we laughed all the time. Surely we can make an effort to get along for a few days.”

“I don’t know, Mary Vaughn,” he said, looking worried.

“What if it gives Rory Sue the wrong idea? You know how she is. Every time I see her she asks me when I’m going to give you another chance. What if she thinks I’m doing that and gets her hopes up?”

“I’ll make sure she knows this is something we’re doing to make sure she has a good Christmas,” Mary Vaughn promised. “Maybe we should plan an open house, too. That was one of our traditions.” Suddenly she was filled with nostalgia. “I loved those, the house smelling like pine and cookies, lights glittering inside and out, and everyone we knew stopping by. I miss that.”

He regarded her with surprise. “Why’d you stop doing it?”

“It wouldn’t have been the same without you there,” she admitted. Moreover, she’d been scared to death that no one would come, that most of the people who’d chosen sides after the divorce had taken Sonny’s. A lot of people had thought that she was the one who’d ended their marriage and Sonny had let them believe that. She supposed it had been his gallant way of letting her save face. Ironically, though, it had turned a lot of people who adored Sonny against her. She wondered if it would have been any different if they’d known the truth—that he was the one who’d walked out.

She looked up to see Sonny studying her with a frown.

“Mary Vaughn, you’re happy, aren’t you?”

“Well, of course I am,” she lied. Because she didn’t want to dwell on the depressingly lonely state of her life, she beamed at him. “I am starved, though. Let’s order. I’m thinking about the pork chops. What about you?”

“Pork chops sound good,” he said, though he sounded oddly distracted. “I’ll get Becky back over here.” He waved to their waitress, then placed the order. “I’ll have another beer, too.” He glanced at Mary Vaughn’s half-f glass of wine. “You want another one?”

She shook her head and decided to skip all pretenses for once. “Actually, you can bring me a beer, too.”

Sonny stared at her when Becky moved off. “You want a beer?”

She nodded, then leaned forward. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure,” he said, looking intrigued.

“I never have liked wine.”

He regarded her with astonishment. “Then why on earth have you always made such a production about drinking it?”

She shrugged. “Because I thought I should,” she admitted.

“I thought it made me seem more sophisticated and worldly.”

Sonny shook his head. “Sugar, you’ve always been the most sophisticated woman I know. It didn’t take wine to make you seem that way.” His expression turned thoughtful. “It was because of your daddy, wasn’t it? He drank beer, and you never wanted to do anything to make anyone think the two of you were alike.”

Her eyes misted over at his insight. “Damn you, Sonny Lewis,” she whispered in a choked voice. “You always did know me better than anyone.”

She stood up and hurried toward the ladies’ room before anyone could catch her bawling her eyes out. She spent ten minutes composing herself and repairing the damage from her tears. When she walked out of the restroom, Sonny was standing right there waiting for her.

“Another minute and I was coming in after you,” he said. “You okay? I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“What upset me wasn’t what you said,” she told him candidly. “It was you knowing what goes on inside me.”

She met his gaze. “I miss that, Sonny. I honest to God do.”

For an instant, he seemed to go perfectly still. Then he warned, “You shouldn’t say things like that, sugar. You’ll turn my head.”

“Would that be so awful?” she asked before she could stop herself.

He took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “You know the answer to that,” he chided lightly, but when she looked into his eyes, what she saw was regret.

Seeing that filled her with sorrow that she’d once been so careless with this man’s heart. It also made her resolve to do everything in her power to make amends. It might be too late for their marriage, but maybe they could somehow salvage the friendship that they’d shared.

“I just can’t be, that’s all,” she said stubbornly.

“We’ve all been there,” Helen said. “Even me. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I’m not embarrassed and I am not twisted into knots just because some man hasn’t called me,” Jeanette retorted.

“Okay, let’s back up,” Maddie suggested. “Why would it be such a big deal if Tom is getting to you? From what we’ve seen, he’s a great guy.” She turned to the others.

“Right?”

“Absolutely,” Dana Sue said. “Ronnie likes him, too. Thinks he’s a stand-up guy.”

“So does Cal,” Maddie added.

“Well, there you go,” Helen said. “A Sweet Magnolias’

and friends’ stamp of approval!”

“Isn’t my opinion the one that counts?” Jeanette inquired testily.

“Well, of course,” Maddie said. “But you need to explain what the problem is so we’ll understand. You know we’ll provide backup.”

Jeanette really didn’t think she had any obligation to explain herself, but because these were her friends, she tried. “In a nutshell, it’s because I’ll wind up taking a backseat to his career. The second he gets a chance at a better job in a bigger city, he’ll be gone. Obviously he’s finally seen the light and agrees with me that it’s pointless to start something with absolutely no future.” She frowned, then added, “Then, of course, there’s the little fact that his mother hates my guts.”

Maddie chuckled. “Tom doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who let’s his mama decide whom he can and can’t date.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Jeanette said grimly. “Until he canceled a lunch he’d practically begged me to agree to.”

“Call him,” Helen advised. “Ask him out.”

“Absolutely not,” Jeanette said. “It’s for the best.”

“Then tell us why you’re so miserable,” Dana Sue said. Jeanette hesitated, then said, “It’s the new house. The paperwork for the loan is overwhelming. I feel as if I’m locking myself into something without having any idea if it’s going to work out.”

“Sort of like marriage,” Maddie commented. “Life doesn’t come with guarantees, sweetie, not when it comes to relationships or houses. All you can do is make an informed decision.”

Jeanette leaned forward, facing them intently. “Don’t you see? That’s just it. I didn’t make an informed decision. I walked into that garden and decided I had to have it. The house itself was almost secondary. Putting in that offer was pure impulse. I never do anything on impulse.”

“Then you’re way past due to cut loose,” Maddie told her.

“Look, we all know the house. We were in and out of it as kids. Not one of us thinks you made a mistake. If you can’t trust your own instincts, then trust ours. That house is perfect for you.”

“You just want a sign that I’m not going to bail on the spa,” Jeanette countered. “You may not be entirely trustworthy when it comes to this.”

“Hey,” Helen said, clearly offended. “When have we ever not been straight with you, even when it wasn’t in our own best interests?”

Jeanette winced. “Sorry. There I go again. I just blurt out whatever comes to mind these days. You guys are wonderful, the best friends I could possibly hope for. Really.”

“Okay, then,” Helen said. “Let’s cut to the chase. My recommendation is that you call Tom and see him as soon as possible. Have sex. It will improve your mood, to say nothing of giving you this amazing glow.”

Jeanette chuckled despite her sour mood. “Sex as therapy? You spread that around, it will cut into business here. Right now, women rely on us to provide their skin with a youthful, dewy glow. If they find out they can achieve the same effect with sex, who knows when they’ll come back again.”

Helen laughed. “Okay, then, we keep that just among us. My recommendation to you stands. And now I have to go home to my husband. All this talk about sex has given me ideas.”

“Me, too,” Dana Sue said, standing up. “Maybe I’ll try to catch Ronnie in the supply room at the store. Leaving the door unlocked adds an element of risk that’s a real turnon.”

Maddie sighed. “Cal and I have to make an appointment to have sex these days. There are way too many kids underfoot.” She blushed. “We’ve been sneaking off to the Serenity Inn in the afternoon.”

Helen, Dana Sue and Jeanette stared at her, then Helen’s expression turned thoughtful.

“I wonder how Erik could feel about that,” she said. She glanced at Dana Sue. “He has, what, maybe an hour between the end of the lunch rush and the start of dinner prep at the restaurant?”

Dana Sue nodded, clearly amused.

“Okay, then,” she said. “That ought to liven up tomorrow afternoon.”

Maddie winced. “We’ll have to work out a schedule. Cal will freak if we start running into everyone we know in the parking lot at the inn!”

“Just so you don’t run into Tom and start giving him ideas,” Jeanette said. “He already has plenty of ideas of his own. Or he did.”

“Call him,” Helen repeated.

“Before tomorrow,” Maddie added. “And apologize to Emily Blanton.”

Jeanette nodded without speaking. It was probably best if the rest of them didn’t know exactly what she was agreeing to do. Talking to Emily Blanton she could handle. Talking to Tom was out of the question. Besides, she’d see him first thing in the morning for the outing to pick out the town Christmas tree. Then maybe she could figure out what was going on with him without putting her heart on the line. Tom was going just a little bit crazy wondering whether Jeanette had even noticed his absence. He’d decided to give Ronnie’s advice a try for one week. That week was up yesterday. Now he was pacing in the parking lot outside of Town Hall waiting for the arrival of the rest of the committee members. Howard had shown up a few minutes earlier with a brandnew minivan with dealer tags still on it for the trip to the tree farm. He’d had the windows rolled down and a Christmas CD blasting away. Tom had shuddered at the thought of being cooped up with all that holiday cheer for several hours.

“Climb on in,” Howard said jovially. “You can ride up front with me. Make sure the CD player has music going. I brought along a dozen Christmas discs. Those should hold us. And there are a couple of Thermoses of hot chocolate and some cups. Help yourself.”

Tom held up the cup of coffee he’d gotten earlier at Wharton’s. “I’m not much for hot chocolate. I have coffee.”

Howard looked disappointed, but he didn’t push. When he spotted Mary Vaughn turning into the parking lot, he beamed. “One more accounted for. Hopefully Ronnie and Jeanette will be here soon and we can get on the road. I’m really looking forward to this.”

Tom spotted Jeanette strolling in their direction, her feet dragging. She clearly wasn’t looking forward to the outing any more than he was. Ronnie caught up with her and said something that made her laugh. Jealousy shot through Tom with a force that stunned him. For the space of one tiny second, he wondered if Ronnie had had an ulterior motive for warning him off, then dismissed the idea as insane. Ronnie was madly in love with his wife. It was plain to anyone who saw them together.

“Mary Vaughn, why don’t you sit up front with Howard,”

Tom suggested, even as he turned to assist Jeanette into the back. He gestured for Ronnie to get into the far backseat, then climbed in to sit beside Jeanette, who was regarding him warily.

He waited until they were under way and the Christmas music was blasting again before turning to her. “How’ve you been?”

“Okay. You?”

“Good. It’s been a crazy week.”

“Yes, for me, too.”

Tom barely contained a sigh. This wasn’t going well. She didn’t show the slightest sign of having missed him. If anything, she was more distant than ever. He decided then and there to scrap Ronnie’s advice.

He leaned over. “I missed you,” he said in a low voice. Color bloomed in her cheeks, but she continued to stare straight ahead.

“Did you miss me?” he asked.

That drew a glance. “Not especially,” she said, but the increasing stain on her cheeks suggested otherwise. Behind him, he heard a barely contained chuckle. He turned and glowered at Ronnie. “You said something?”

“Not a word,” Ronnie claimed, his expression innocent.

“But I was thinking the time might go faster if we sang a few carols.”

Jeanette twisted around awkwardly, constrained by her seat belt. “Are you crazy?” she demanded in an undertone.

“Great idea!” Howard said. “That’s just what we need to get in the mood. Mary Vaughn, darlin’, check out the cover of that CD and tell us which song is coming up next so we can be ready.”

Tom groaned.

“It’s ‘White Christmas,’” Mary Vaughn announced in an upbeat tone.

“Now, we all know the words to that, I’m sure,” Howard said. When the song started, he chimed in. After a pause Mary Vaughn joined him, as did Ronnie.

Tom and Jeanette exchanged a commiserating look.

“Come on, you two,” Howard said, glancing at them in the rearview mirror. “Let’s hear it. I think we’ve got the makings of a nice little choir right here in this car. Mary Vaughn tells me we’re going to revive our family tradition of going to a nursing home to sing on Christmas Day. Maybe you all would like to join us.”

“Not if hell froze over,” Tom muttered.

“And Serenity, too,” Jeanette added with such feeling that he laughed out loud.

“Great idea, Howard,” Ronnie said with enthusiasm, just to spite the two of them. “And don’t forget we’re expecting all of you at Sullivan’s for Christmas dinner. Howard, are you up for playing Santa again this year?”

“You bet,” he said. “It’s at the top of my list for the holidays, right after being Santa on the opening night of the festival.”

Jeanette slid down in her seat. Tom reached for her hand, partly because he just plain needed to touch her and that was the only appropriate gesture and partly to show solidarity. To his relief, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she released a barely audible sigh and met his gaze. He felt his heart drop at the longing he read in her eyes.

Maybe Ronnie’s stupid scheme had worked, after all, he decided. If it had made Jeanette miss him, even for a minute, made her question, even once, if he’d lost interest, then the solid week of torture had been worth it. The Christmas-tree farm should have been Jeanette’s worst nightmare, but after the first few minutes, she drew in a deep breath of pine-scented air and suddenly recalled all the wonderful Christmases of her childhood, the ones that had been filled with cookies and candy canes, a brightly lit tree decorated with ornaments she and her brother had made and popcorn they’d strung.

There was some chill in the air, after all, just enough to make it feel like Christmas, and every step over the carpet of pine needles released their fresh, wintry scent.

“Are you cold?” Tom asked, walking up behind her and circling her waist with his arms.

Jeanette allowed herself to lean back against him for just an instant before pulling away. “No, this is invigorating.”

She gazed up at him. “Doesn’t it smell wonderful out here?”

“It smells like the cleaning solution they use at Town Hall,” he said.

“It does not. It smells exactly the way Christmas morning is supposed to smell.”

Tom shrugged. “In my family, our trees were always artificial. They had to stay up for weeks. Live trees were too messy, to say nothing of being a fire risk.”

She regarded him incredulously. “You never had a live tree?”

He shook his head. “Not that I recall. The decorators insisted that artificial was much more practical.”

“Decorators? You didn’t put the tree up yourselves?”

“Trees,” he corrected. “We usually had half a dozen, one in each of the downstairs rooms, along with boughs of evergreens, also artificial. It took several weeks for the decorators to do their job and turn our house into some kind of holiday theme park.”

“I can’t imagine. What about the decorations? Did you make some?”

“I made a few in school, but they were never on our trees. I think the housekeeper might have held on to some of them, but my mother insisted that the formal trees had to have a theme. It changed every year. My sisters and I were warned not to break any of the glass ornaments or we’d have to pay for them out of our allowances.”

“How awful,” she said. It just reconfirmed everything she’d thought about Mrs. McDonald being a difficult, demanding woman and a snob. “Didn’t you have any special family traditions?”

“Not much beyond going to the Christmas Eve service at the church. Oh, and the round of parties that began right after Thanksgiving. My sisters and I were banished from most of those until we were older and could be counted on to be civilized in company.”

“But Christmas should be magical, especially for kids,” she protested, feeling bad for him. She understood his bah-humbug attitude a whole lot better now. Hers came from having a tragedy rip away a tradition she’d loved. And Tom, he’d never even known how joyous the holidays could be. She wasn’t sure which was worse. Tom shrugged off her sympathy. “It was just the way we did things. I never knew anything different.”

“But I can see why the holidays don’t matter much to you,” she told him.

“What about you? Were your holidays always idyllic?”

She hesitated before answering, then, almost overcome with nostalgia, she said quietly, “They were when I was little.”