Borrowing Trouble (18 page)

“Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition,” I retorted automatically. He cocked his head.
“Sorry. That probably made no sense. Just a line from a movie. Anyway, no inquisition. She was nice.”

“Our chief weapons are surprise, no fear, no our special red outfits. Come on, how does it go? I haven’t seen
Monty Python
in years.”

“Something like that. I really don’t remember.”

“Oh, we’re Netflixing that when we get home.”

“As long as you don’t try to torture me by putting me in the comfy chair.”

We laughed and our eyes danced together. “You are a fascinating woman, Miss Tanner. So, you survived the dreaded Ophelia?”

“It was good.”

“I hope she didn’t give away all of my secrets.”

“Not a one. Although I didn’t know she was your nanny.”

“Yeah, so my mom worked when Caroline was little and needed some help so she hired Ophelia and she’s been with our family ever since. They’re here.”

I turned toward the door as Jimmy and Bitsy arrived. After pleasantries, we were guided to our table by the hostess. Blessedly we weren’t seated near the intimate corner booth where Trip and I had shared two of our more memorable meals.

“So I understand y’all eat together most Tuesday nights. It is always at Pig and Barley?” I asked, taking a sip of my pale ale.

“No,” answered Bitsy. “We usually eat at the club and then the boys go out for some men-only time. We might have to find something for us girls to do after Tuesday dinners.”

Before I could even come up with a graceful way to decline even more one-on-one time with Bitsy, Trip answered. “Actually, Marisa goes to Cal’s, too.”

“Oh, that’s interesting.”

Interesting that we go to the same bar or interesting that I go to a bar?
Okay, the best way to get a conversation directed away from you is to get someone talking about themselves. That’s the plan.

I took a big breath. “So, Bitsy, how did you and Jimmy meet?”

“Oh, that was so long ago I’m not sure I remember it all,” said Bitsy coyly, looking at Jimmy and silently urging him to tell.

“Oh, I remember everything about meeting her. I was at my accountant’s office and this pretty young thing in a purple dress walked through the reception area. I asked my CPA about the new receptionist. He said they didn’t have a new receptionist. I said something about the blonde with the killer legs. He introduced me to Bitsy Blenheim on my way out and I was done.”

“You worked for Jimmy’s accounting firm?”

“Not really. I was getting my masters at Memphis State, as it was called then, and it was tax season so I was picking up some work doing tax returns.”

“Yes, so ‘tax season’ was excruciatingly long that year. I kept calling the office and trying to take her to lunch, take her to dinner, take her to the movies, anything, really. And all she would say is ‘Jimmy, this is very nice of you, but I don’t have time to think about it until after tax season.’ ” Bitsy smiled and took a sip from her wine glass. “The morning of April sixteenth I showed up at my accountant’s office with a bouquet of flowers and took her to lunch. Best decision of my life.” He kissed his wife lovingly on her cheek.

“Where’d y’all go?” Trip asked.

“Paulette’s,” Bitsy answered. “It had just opened. Very fancy for Memphis at the time.”

That is weird. Like spooky weird.

“I didn’t know that,” he said, his voice filled with wonder. “That’s where Marisa and I had our first lunch.”

“Good omen,” nodded Jimmy.

“So, Bitsy, you mentioned you were getting your masters?”

“Yes, in accounting. I’m actually a CPA, but I don’t keep my license active.”

“And you’re from Memphis?”

I don’t have to tell her what Ophelia told me. I’ll just use it to guide the conversation to safe topics.

“No. I’m from West Virginia. I went to WVU for my undergraduate. I moved to Memphis to take a part time job at International Paper while I worked on my master’s degree. I got laid off from that job, which is why I was working tax season when I met Jimmy. Starving graduate student and all that. That really was a lifetime ago.”

“Wow. That’s really impressive.”

“And here, you thought I just shopped all day.”

“Oh no.”

Yup, before Ophelia told me that is exactly what I thought.

“I’m teasing you. I only worked as a CPA for two years. I got a job back at International Paper and I worked there when Jimmy and I were first married. By the time Trip was born, I decided to stay home with him. And I’ve never gone back.”

And we’re just all going to ignore the Caroline-shaped hole in the family.

“Mom, Dad, we can talk about Caroline. It’s okay with me. And Marisa knows.”

Okay with him? I thought Bitsy was the one who was fragile about losing a child. But, yeah, Jimmy did tell me that he didn’t think Trip would tell me about Caroline. Maybe I just read that wrong. Maybe they are both fragile.

“Back to us,” said Jimmy, taking control of the conversation. “Married her less than a year after laying eyes on her and haven’t looked back. Caroline came along right around our first anniversary and then Trip and by then something had to give and it was Bitsy’s career.”

“I wouldn’t have changed it for the world,” she said solemnly, taking my face in with her eyes.

Is this a message to me? That I can choose a family with Trip or I can choose my job? Fuck me. Really.

Before my mind could truly spin out of control with worry, our entrees arrived. I had gone with my standby of shrimp and grits. Jimmy had a petit filet with Hoppin’ John and greens. Bitsy had flounder and Trip ordered three different appetizers for his dinner, including sautéed frog legs.

Frog. Ick. And I’m supposed to kiss that mouth later?

As he picked up a frog leg, he spoke. “Marisa got to meet Ophelia earlier.”

“And you lived to tell the tale?” asked Jimmy, taking a sip of his Syrah. “She eats Trip’s girlfriends for sport.”

“Really? We just chatted while we put away laundry. No big deal.”

Jimmy lifted an eyebrow and looked at his son. “That was my thought exactly,” Trip noted.

“Be nice, boys. Ophelia loves Trip as much as I do. It’s not her fault that Trip’s not always made as lovely a choice as Marisa.”

Trip paused slightly and dropped a hand on my knee, attempting to wash away any worry that accompanied references to past girlfriends. “So, I picked up my Rover for this weekend. I thought we’d be more comfortable in it rather than packed in like sardines in Dad’s car.”

“Yeah, I saw the dune buggy, Jimmy. That’s cool. How long have you had that?”

Bitsy giggled. “You still have that?” she asked her husband in disbelief. “Does it even work?”

“I got it when I was about fifteen. Kept it at the beach for years. I don’t know if it works. I’d nearly forgotten about it.”

“I hadn’t. You scared me to pieces the first time you took me down to St. George for a weekend and you gave me a tour around the island in that thing.”

“Was worth it, right?”

Bitsy’s smile grew even brighter and she turned to me. “I was insisting on walking back to the cabin rather than getting in the dune buggy with this mad man behind the wheel and that’s when he asked me to marry him.”

Trip squeezed my thigh. The table settled into silence once more. “So, what’s the plan for Saturday?” he asked, turning to his next small dish of mock turtle soup.

I’m so glad that’s not real turtle, or after the frog legs, there is no way I’d kiss him. What is mock turtle soup made from, anyway? Do I even want to know?

“Well, Gabe, my hairstylist, will be over around four o’clock. Marisa, can you get Trip to drop you off around then? Boys, you need to be back at the house no later than five-thirty, so you can get cleaned up, eat something, and we can leave by six-thirty. The event starts at seven. And I will not be late.”

Trip pushed his empty soup dish to the side and dove into a miniature rabbit and mushroom pot pie.

So, if it’s a character from a Beatrix Potter story, he eats it? I’ll stick with my shrimp and grits. Thank you very much.

“Oh, Bitsy, that reminds me. I hate to ask, but Trip said since you offered it was okay to accept the help. I haven’t picked up my dress yet.”

“I’ll pick it up for you and have it at the house.”

“Really? I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Yes, really. It’s my job to take care of this family.”

But I’m not in this family
, I thought while I said, “Thank you.”

Dinner ended and I was ready to get home.

Wait, I’m not going home. I’m going back to Trip’s.

“Thank you so much for inviting me.”

Can I do this every Tuesday night for the rest of my life? It wasn’t a disaster and Bitsy seems to have repressed the kitchen incident better than I’ve been able to, which truth be told, wasn’t very well.

“Of course. I’m looking forward to seeing you Saturday.” She leaned in and gave me a warm hug as we walked out of the restaurant. “We will have a good time, I promise,” she spoke quietly to me, giving my hand a quick squeeze.

“Jimmy, thank you as well.”

“Anytime,” he said, giving me the peck on the cheek that I’d grown to expect from him.

“Trip, I’ll see you later.”

“Yes, I’ll be home around ten.”

Did he seriously just out us in front of his parents like that? That’s his mess to clean up.

I handed my claim stub to the valet and waited quietly as Trip gently massaged circles into my low back. When my car arrived, Trip escorted me to the driver’s side and placed me inside. “So, your place tonight?” he asked, hanging over the doorframe.

“No, home with you. I brought over my things this afternoon.”

He nodded. Kissed me gently, righted himself, closed the car door, and tapped the roof twice, sending me on my way.

Chapter Twenty-seven

I woke up in the middle of the night to a very drunk and very naked boyfriend crawling into bed. “Hey,” I sleepily called to him. “I waited. Queued up
Holy Grail
on Netflix and then just crashed.” He pulled me into the curve of his naked body.

SP Two.

I relaxed into him and noticed his breath was irregular and he was shaky. “Are you crying?” I asked suddenly becoming more awake.

“Yes.”

“How drunk are you?”

“I love you so much.”

“Dear God, what did you and Jimmy do?”

“Mom’s sick. The cancer has come back and is in her spine.”

“Oh, dear God.” I could feel him nod and his heart breaking. “Okay, roll over. I’m holding you.” He followed my request. I wrapped him up in my arms. My face in between his shoulder blades. I patted and stroked and cooed as he cried.

How do I make this better? I can’t make this better.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I can’t.”

“Okay. Do you want sex?” He snorted and he shifted to wipe a hand across his face. “Let me get you a tissue.”

“No. Just hold me.” His voice was choked with phlegm and tears. And I did.

I woke up early on Wednesday morning, leaving an exhausted Trip asleep in bed as I slid into my lavender bathrobe. I turned on the coffeemaker, emailed Jane that I would likely be in late due to personal reasons and did the same with Trip’s assistant Jenny. Then, I made our breakfast. I dug around in his oversized kitchen until I located a carafe and a tray. I carried the oatmeal, yogurt, granola, and coffee upstairs and placed it on top of his dresser. At my sound, he began to stir.

“Good morning, love. Let me go get you some Advil.”

“There is a bottle in the linen closet.” He pushed himself up.

“No, you just rest. I’ll go get it. I’ve brought breakfast up, too. Let’s not go face the world just yet.”

He relaxed back down on his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. “Hey, baby,” I urged him to sit up and placed the breakfast tray on the bed. “Here’s your Advil.” He obligingly swallowed the pills down.

“I emailed Jenny and told her you’d be in late for personal reasons.”

He nodded. “You know she probably just thinks you kept me up all night with wild sex.”

“That’s fine with me. I’m not worried about what she thinks.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. Just want to take care of you. So, are you hungry?” Trip shook his head and rolled out of bed and into the bathroom. When he crawled back into bed, he laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. “Will you try to eat something?”

“Okay.”

“I put raisins and cinnamon in. I know that’s how you fix it on the weekends, so I thought you might like that today.”

He nodded. “That’s how Ophelia used to make it for me when I was little.”

“Good. Just enjoy it.” I picked up my coffee and blew across the top, sending a waft of steam across the room. After a few more minutes of ceiling-staring, he sat up and ate his bowl of oatmeal in silence.

Don’t push. Let him lead.

He returned the empty bowl to the tray.

“Thank you.” He kissed my cheek.

“What else can I do for you?” He took my hands and slid off the edge of the bed onto the floor. “Are you okay?”

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“Please, Marisa. Let’s just skip the next six months of pretending we’re just dating and get married now, before Christmas.”

Before Christmas. Is that Bitsy’s prognosis?

“Trip, I don’t know what to say.”

“Yes, you do. You’re just scared. That’s okay. I’m scared, too, but I know I want to do this and there is no good reason to wait.”

“We’ve known each other like four months.”

“And your point is that we have to wait for when? Whose timeline gets to determine this? I’m going to marry you. We both know this. I’d like to give my mom this. So, please.”

“Trip, last night was awful. I’m sorry. I just don’t think this is going to make it better. I don’t want to do something you’re going to regret, that both of us would regret, to make your mom happy. That won’t make her happy.”

Trip stood up and rifled through his suit jacket, which he’d dropped on the floor last night in his stupor. “I’m not marrying you to make my mom happy. I’m marrying you because it would make me happy and it would make you happy. I’m just asking you to give me a six month allowance here. Even if we got married next spring, no one would bat an eye. We’re both approaching forty, for chrissakes. In ten years’ time this six months will mean nothing to us, but it will mean so much to my mom.” He stopped rustling through his clothes and turned towards me.

Naked as the day he was born, he reverted to his kneel at the edge of the bed and looked straight into my eyes. “Marisa, please marry me. I understand if December is a deal killer. We can negotiate time, place, anything else you want. Please, be with me forever.” He opened his hands to expose a small dove gray leather box.

Oh shit, he is serious.

He opened the box to reveal a simply cut oval diamond on a thin gold band. “This is my grandmother’s ring. I’d asked my dad to bring it to me last night. I wanted to take you to Telluride with me this winter and ask there, but I’m not waiting. I know what I want. I want to be your husband. Please, Marisa, please marry me.”

He’s thought about this. Thought about this before he knew about his mom’s prognosis.

My heart was in my throat.

Be brave.
I couldn’t form words. I nodded and started to cry. I reached out to him and pulled him towards me. The ring and box to the floor.
Fuck it all. Let’s do it. Let’s get married in a month.
“Yes. Yes. I love you. Before the end of the year.”