Georgia on Her Mind (20 page)

I call Dad as soon as I get home. “Where will I live?”

I glance at the clock on the stove. Lucy and Jack should be by soon.

He clears his throat. “Our house will be empty, of course. But you know Piper and Angus are selling off part of their Purdy homestead.”

“Dylan told me.” I plop into one of the kitchen-table chairs and draw my knees up to my chin.

“Who do you think put him up to it?” A sneaky snicker threads the tone of his voice.

“I am not surprised.”

“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do to wage war against a fancy New York software company offering the world to his daughter on a Chicago-style platter.”

“Any cheap, low-down trick will do, eh, Dad?” I see Lucy and Jack pass by the window with paper bags of Chinese food.

“I’ll take the cheap shot if that’s all I got.”

“You know how much I’ve always loved Piper and Angus’s place.” I get out silverware, napkins and plates.

“So what are you telling me?” Dad asks.

I hear the front door open and Lucy’s familiar hello. I take a deep breath. “I’m returning to Beauty, Dad. I’ll take over the business.”

There’s a long pause from Dad’s end. Lucy is in the living room, flipping on lights.

Finally Dad chokes out, “Are you sure?” The emotion
in his voice runs down the wire and splashes over me. My eyes well up.

“Yes, very.”

August 4

O
n the veranda swing, I wait for Dylan. He’s picking me up on one of his custom bikes—which he’s trying to sell to me, by the way. He’s crazy. Gorgeous and crazy. My new best friend.

We’re meeting Lucy and Jack at the corner of Jasmine and Lily Avenue and heading over to the lake for a picnic. Jack just bought a Braun bike.

Oh, before I forget. The class reunion was a blast. I’m proud to say I attended as a hometown girl and the new proprietor of Moore Gourmet Sauces. I emceed with great poise and hilarity, even if I say so myself.

I couldn’t believe how many of my old friends patted me
on the back and congratulated me about moving back to Beauty. There was no humiliation. No teasing. No eating crow.

“We always thought you’d be the Moore of Moore Sauces one day.”

Did everyone know but me?

Kathy Bailey and I spent an hour talking, catching up, being jealous over each other’s lives and promising to keep in touch. Resolve: good friends are worth the trouble.

Dad bought Cole a Braun bike the same time Jack bought his. Part of Cole’s inheritance, Dad claims, but I’m finding out that my former-hippie-turned-Jesus-freak-turned-Southern-bourgeois-capitalist-turned-missionary father is incredibly generous.

For me, he put a down payment on the Purdy mansion. Absolutely blew me away. He’s all but giving me the business, then goes and buys my dream home.

“Signing bonus,” he said when he handed me the keys.

I cried. Yep, cried in front of the boss. But at Moore Gourmet Sauces crying executives are not frowned upon. I stood there in my new pleated skirt and curled my toes against the soles of my flip-flops and cried a nice, businesswoman cry.

Be true to you, I always say.

Lucy hooked me up with one of the newspaper’s advertising real estate agents, who advised me to rent my condo. It made moving so much easier, and the rent covers my mortgage and then some.

Piper and Angus sold my half of their home for a song. Dad tried to give them several thousand more, but Angus refused.

“The money makes Piper crazy,” he told Dad, chewing his chaw, then spitting in the dirt.

I’ll spend the next four months remodeling, and that expense is entirely on me. Until then, I’m unpacked and living in my old room.

Dad and Mom leave for England in a few weeks and are as giddy as a couple of teenagers. They inspire and challenge me with their yielded, unselfish hearts.

But Dad’s concentration level is worse than a child’s. I have to snap my fingers under his nose to get his attention. “Tell me how to do this!”

I’m slightly panicked. The day they leave, I debut on
The Food Connection.
Butterflies launch themselves across my middle at the very thought.

Six months ago, if someone had told me I’d return to Beauty as the new owner of Moore Gourmet Sauces, I would have laughed and called the paddy wagon. Absurd. Unthinkable.

Steve Albright lit into me when I called to say I would not be taking the Chicago position. Ooh-wee, he was mad. Worst case of the mean-’n-nasties I’ve ever heard. In my honor, I’m sure he consumed a whole packet of Tums.

I apologized profusely, offering to pay for any expenses I had unduly caused Myers-Smith.
That
he took as an incredible insult and all but hung up on me.

After that episode, I fell on my knees and thanked God for rescuing me from what would have been a bad, bad move.

I left Melbourne with all my loose ends tied and tidy. I stopped by Casper & Company on my way out of town, the back of my Beemer loaded with suitcases and boxes.

Roni jumped to her feet like a frightened cat when I appeared in her office. “Macy.” Her smiling lips quivered.

I walked across her office as if I owned the place and gave her a big hug. “I’m moving back to Georgia.”

She gawked and gaped, but I thanked her for all she’d done for me. And I meant every word. She and Mike were the first to throw the burning match on the wood, hay and stubble of my life and I’ll always be grateful.

Keeping my word, I gifted Jillian with the Gucci boots. She cried and threw her arms around me, promising to take good care of them.

“I know you will, Jillian.”

“Did you hear about Attila and Mike?” she whispered, checking over her shoulder.

“Jillian, stop using that name. I should never have invented it.”

“Please, Macy. Everyone uses it. Anyway, she and Mike—”

I held up my hand. “Don’t want to know.” I hit the front door with Jillian trailing behind me, desperate to gossip. But I refused to hear. What good would it do me?

Drag is settled in New York, and healing. He’s e-mailed a few times and called once. When he joined Tidwell Communications, CNN ran a quick news brief and a head shot. Drag in a suit looking like Brad Pitt. I’ll never forget it.

Mrs. Woodward, at seventy-seven and free from gallbladder attacks, bought a Mustang convertible and joined the Red Hat Society. Every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, she and three other beauties in purple dresses and red hats pop the top and vroom away.

Finally, but not least, Adriane, Tamara, Lucy and I said goodbye in style the night before I left. The movers had
taken the last of my furniture, so the four of us sat cross-legged in the middle of my empty living room, laughing and reminiscing, eating Carraba’s takeout, listening to the echoes of our hearts against barren walls.

“To the Single Saved Sisters,” I said, raising my glass when we quieted down. “Jewels in my heart.”

“To the Single Saved Sisters.”

Then we got all mushy and cried for a while until Adriane reminded us we’d be together in October for her wedding. We brightened for a moment, then cried again.

I waved tootles to Dan Montgomery and Perfect Woman as they pulled away one morning. I’m not sure they even knew I was moving.

In the distance I hear the rumble of Dylan’s bike. He continues to make his intentions known while giving me space to figure out this new chapter of my life.

I watch as he coasts up the driveway and parks. My heart does the hundred-yard dash as he takes the veranda steps in one large leap and strides my way.

He pulls me to him and kisses me. Not a howdy-do or by-your-leave kiss, but a nice manly man’s kiss.

I swoon. Sure as shooting, I swoon. “Hello to you, too,” I whisper when his lips leave mine.

He wraps me up in his arms and I bury my head in his chest and breathe in sandalwood and sage. He strokes my hair. “Hey to you, blue eyes.”

I am so in love.

“Ready?” he asks when he releases me.

“Yep.” I shut the front door and take his hand.

Riding across Beauty with Dylan, my arms around his
waist, my cheek pressed against his back, my hair dancing in the wind, I can’t remember why I wanted to run away from this place. Life is funny, isn’t it? Like Dorothy in Oz, I’ve searched for my rainbow out
there
somewhere when really all I wanted was right here in my own backyard.

I lift my head and laugh. The Lord has given me Beauty for my ashes.

1. Macy shows up at work on a Monday morning to find out she’s been demoted—over e-mail no less. Is her response Christ-like? How would you respond in a similar situation?
   
2. Our society focuses a lot on food as an emotional medication. Macy falls into this trap when she learns about her job situation. What would have been a better comfort?
   
3. Macy dated a man who was not a Christian. She let her desperation to be married dictate her heart. Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you were compromising your faith with a nonbelieving boyfriend? What advice would you give to a person in that situation?
   
4. Macy and Lucy have a long-term, special relationship. How can you be a better friend? Friendships must be about giving as much as receiving.
   
5. Macy’s career became her idol. She forgot to consult God about her plans. Are there plans in your life that need to be submitted to the counsel of God? Why or why not?
   
6. We have three commodities in this life that we can exchange for eternal currency: time, money and words. How does Macy realize she’s not used some of her “currency” wisely? In what situations does she realize she needs to make a change?
   
7. Even when we are adult children, the Lord may use our parents to speak His will into our lives. Does this happen to Macy? What is her response? Has this happened to you? How should you respond?
   
8. When Dylan Braun shows up in Macy’s life, it messes with her heart’s desire to be a Chicago executive. How is Dylan a Christ-like picture of love, patience and acceptance?
   
9. Once Macy surrenders her will to the Lord, what happens to the desires of her heart? Has this happened in your life? If not, are there issues you need to surrender?
   
10. Discuss the end of the book where Macy leaves Melbourne for Beauty. Think of situations in your life where you’ve closed one door and walked through another. What lessons have you learned? What lessons did Macy learn?