Secrets Gone South (Crimson Romance) (18 page)

“There’s no hurry. I think Phillip has to pay rent where he is until March 1. I had assumed you’d want to move to Will’s house as soon as possible. What were the two of you thinking?”

“Soon,” she said. “This weekend.” Might as well.

She did not feel light anymore, or hopeful. She was going to have to take her child and move to an alien environment, to Daddy’s turf.

She left without saying any of the things to Lanie that she had intended to say and without remembering to get her coffee and orange roll.

• • •

Will left his workshop earlier than usual because he wanted to get back to the apartment and cook dinner before Arabelle got home. They had parted on a positive—even hopeful—note this morning and he wanted to keep that going. His plan was to run through the shower, fetch Avery from across the hall, and make vegetable lasagna.

But when he entered the apartment, it was clear he was not alone because there was music and other noises coming from Arabelle’s bedroom. She had her back to him and was folding clothes from her closet into a box. There were more boxes against the wall and the shelves that had held pictures, books, and other little trinkets were empty.

His heart sped up but he talked himself back to calm. Just yesterday, she had promised she wouldn’t take Avery and run. He needed to find out what was going on before he accused her.

“Hello,” he said.

She looked over her shoulder. “Oh. Hello. I didn’t hear you come in.” She finished folding a sweater, placed it in the box, and hit pause on the MP3 player. “I didn’t expect you this early.” She looked surprised to see him but not panicked and not guilty.

“I stopped work early. I thought I’d cook dinner, since you did last night.”

She resumed moving clothes from the closet to the box. “That’s nice. You should probably gradually ease into a full workday anyway. I’ll look at your hand later.”

Obviously he was going to have to come right out and ask her. “What’s going on here?” He gestured to the boxes stacked against the wall.

She sighed and placed a hand on her hip. “It would seem we are homeless.”

“Homeless?”

“Yes. Lanie assumed we were going to live in your house so she rented the apartment to Phillip.”

Relief surged through him. She wasn’t leaving and he wasn’t going to have to live in town. Maybe. Or maybe she intended to move to some other congested little place.

“So what’s the plan?” he asked, careful not to sound pleased.

But he didn’t fool her. “What do you think the plan is? You’re going to get what you want. We’re moving to the woods, this weekend if I can manage to get everything packed. I’m taking off a couple of hours here and there, while Avery’s not here.”

She didn’t look pleased but she didn’t look angry, either. She looked resigned. It was a familiar look.

“I’ll help you,” he said. The sooner they were packed, the sooner he could get out of this dollhouse and out of that miniature bed. And maybe he could get Arabelle into his bed, even if it was only to sleep. That would be progress. “Maybe it would be more productive if I use my time to pack instead of cooking dinner. We can get a pizza.”

She nodded. “There are empty boxes in the hall. Start with the DVDs and CDs. I don’t want to disassemble Avery’s room until the very last minute. All the books say that makes transition easier for a child.”

“Sure thing.” He waited until he left the room to smile. This would be better—so much better for all of them. He was sure of it.

It was Thursday night, almost two weeks since Arabelle had moved to the woods. The walk up the sidewalk to Tolly Scott’s front door was interminable. Not literally, of course. It just seemed that way because Arabelle did not want to go to book club. Will had made good on his promise to go to church and Rotary. Tonight, he had informed her he was taking Avery to the diner with the guys and the other kids while she was at book club—of course, without asking if she intended to go to book club. So here she was. Will had a point about giving Avery a normal life and she had come to terms with needing to be more social—but why did it have to be tonight? Today was Carrie’s birthday.
No.
It
would have been
Carrie’s birthday. And no one even knew that. If Luke remembered, he’d showed no signs of it when she saw him at the daycare apartment at lunchtime. He had picked up Emma at kindergarten and was in a fine frame of mind. She doubted if Lanie even knew it. And would Emma ever know when her mother’s birthday was? No, because it would be Lanie’s birthday she celebrated.

Tolly opened the door of her big, rambling, 1930s Tudor house. Her smile was sincere, if a bit reserved.

“Come in, Arabelle. I’m so glad you came.”

“Thank you for having me.”

So polite, so formal. She had seen the four of them greet each other and it was more like a middle school cheerleader reunion than lady of the manor admitting a tea party guest.

“It’s cold out.” Tolly led her down the hall to an inviting room with a fireplace and a wet bar. Two matching sofas flanked the fireplace with a large coffee table between. Missy and Lucy sat curled up on one of the sofas across from Lanie. The half empty wine glass indicated that Tolly had been seated beside Lanie. Cozy.

There was a chair at the end of table—a chair that did not belong there and was clearly meant for her. It had been dragged from a now empty corner and its present location upset the balance of the room.

“Arabelle,” Lucy said with some surprise. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Glad to be here.” She let herself down into the chair. At least it was comfortable.

“We were just getting ready to talk about the book.” Tolly put a glass of wine in her hand and settled back into her spot.

“Really?” Arabelle searched the faces around her. They never read a book. They used to, at least, pick out a book and pretend. They didn’t even do that anymore.

“No,” Lanie said. “But we were talking about how maybe we ought to get back to reading. You know, it’s January. Everyone is reasonably settled.”

That got a laugh from the room.

“Well, at least no one’s in crisis,” Lucy said.

“Speak for yourself,” Missy said, getting up to pour another round of wine. They were ahead of her.

Yeah, Lanie. Speak for yourself when you haven’t been blackmailed into marriage and been forced to move to the middle of nowhere, when someone else wasn’t calling all the shots.
She shook off the thought. It wasn’t productive.

“And just what crisis are you having, Missy?” Lucy asked.

Good point. When had Missy Jackson Bragg had one bit of trouble?

“Lulu has no interest in toilet training but is refusing to wear a diaper and my washing machine broke down today. Believe me, the two do not make friendly companions.”

“That’s not a crisis,” Lucy said. “Those things are inconveniences.” She turned to Arabelle. “How are you enjoying your new house?”

Her new house? It took a second to realize that Lucy meant
Will’s
house. And, indeed, it was that. No house had ever been better suited to a human being and he’d been thrilled that she’d been forced to move in there—but she didn’t feel like it would ever be her house.

“It’s a beautiful house. Lots of space. Very nice.” And all those things were true. And it would be so nice if she could find a way to be comfortable there.

“It’s a work of art really,” Lucy agreed. “Such wonderful workmanship. Will doesn’t compromise on quality. It would win an award if he would allow someone in there to photograph it.”

“I’m going to photograph it,” Missy said. “And I’m going to tell everyone it’s mine, that I designed it. If there’s any money to be had, I’m going to win it.”

Lucy rolled her eyes at Missy but otherwise didn’t respond. “Brantley is thrilled that Will has agreed to work with him on the church in Sercey,” Lucy said.

Arabelle nodded. “He’s trying to finish up a few projects so he can give it his full attention. He was behind after hurting his hand.”

“Ah, the injury that brought the two of you back together,” Lanie said.

They had embroidered on the story and claimed that it was when he’d come into her office bleeding that they had decided they were wasting time and gotten engaged.

“I thought we’d get to see that house when Arabelle moved,” Lanie went on. “But they insisted they didn’t need any help.”

It was true. “Apart from Avery’s baby furniture, I didn’t own any of the furniture in that apartment. It was all Lanie’s.” Except for most of the bedrooms, Will’s house was mostly furnished anyway. Though the day they had moved in, she had been shocked when Will brought in a box containing an unassembled dining table and a set of chairs that he had bought at a big box discount store. Not his style at all.

“This is temporary,” he had said as he set about putting the table together. “I know it’s not nice but I just don’t have the time to build one right now or even commission one. And we need a place to eat. When my schedule clears up some, I’ll build what we want.” Of course, he meant what
he
wanted. He was so damned particular about what went in that shrine of a house. Though, to be fair, if he’d asked her what she wanted, she wouldn’t have been able to tell him.

Except for one thing, and she wasn’t getting that—though she’d been hopeful when they had agreed that she should share his room partly because there wasn’t another furnished bedroom and partly because it would look odd if she had a room of her own. But those were lame excuses and she had thought it was just a less awkward way to help them move a little closer toward the fire that was burning between them. But nothing. The galling part was that they slept together every night, never touching, and it didn’t bother him one bit. So maybe the fire was only hers. That made her feel pitiful and desperate.

Lanie brought her back. “You know you could have taken anything you wanted from the apartment. What’s mine is yours. Though Phillip was happy. I think he’s been sleeping on a futon.”

Lucy chimed in, “You were right not to take any of the furniture in the apartment, Arabelle. I love everything there, but it’s not right for Will’s house. He has more natural style sense than anyone I ever ran into while I was in design school. More than me for sure.”

“He’s particular,” Arabelle said. Yet, as particular as he had been with crafting and furnishing that house, when Avery found a permanent maker and scribbled on a maple kitchen cabinet door, Will had laughed and pointed out his amazing artistic ability—though she had not been able to make out what Will insisted was a tree. Avery had also drawn all over his face and clothes but she had refrained from asking Will if he thought that was art, too.

“Is Avery settling in okay?” Lanie asked.

Arabelle nodded. “He hardly seems to notice he’s moved.” And it was true. For all her worry about uprooting him again, as long as Avery had Jiffy and his ever-growing truck collection, he was happy. And Will of course, the best playmate to ever roll a truck or roast a hotdog in a fireplace.

Tolly said, “I, for one, am glad we’re finally going to get to see that house.”

“Not me,” Lucy said smugly. “I’ve seen it. Brantley and I have been invited there a lot of times.”

“Don’t gloat, Lucy. It’s not attractive. We’ve
all
been invited there to watch the Super Bowl this weekend, so now we’re all just as special as you and Brantley,” Tolly said.

And that was another thing. Without consulting her, Will had invited the whole crew to watch the Super Bowl. Missy’s cousin, Gabe Beauford, played wide receiver for the San Antonio Wranglers and they were playing the New England Patriots.

“I’m surprised you’re not going to the game,” Arabelle said to Missy.

Missy shook her head. “We’ve got that pants wetting thing going on.”

“Are Gabe’s brothers going?” Lucy asked.

Missy nodded. “Rafe for sure and Jackson’s singing the National Anthem. Who knows about Beau? I don’t know if the United States Army gives leave to watch your brother play in the Super Bowl.”

“They should,” Lanie said. “Seems like those Beauford brothers lead a charmed life. Big country star. Professional bull rider. Star football player. Who knows what that youngest one might have up his sleeve.”

Missy frowned and took a sip of her wine. “It looks that way but they’ve had a tough time. When they were kids, their parents and little sister died when their vacation cabin burned down. The boys were camped out in a tent. They saw the whole thing.”

Quiet and horror settled over the room—and in Arabelle’s gut.

Strangely, it was Arabelle who broke the silence because there was a question she had to ask. “How did they learn to cope?”

Missy’s sad eyes met hers. “Honestly, Arabelle, I don’t know if they ever did.”

That wasn’t good news. In that moment, she had a crazy longing. She wanted to run to Will’s woods and sit in front of the fire and watch Avery play on the floor. And she wanted Will’s arms around her. But she was as likely to get that as she was to get a piece of birthday cake with Carrie’s name on it, because what she really wanted was to feel at home and she couldn’t.

Tolly stood up. “Who wants dinner? I’ve got shrimp scampi and coconut cake for dessert!”

Coconut cake. Carrie’s favorite. Maybe there was birthday cake after all.

• • •

“Dump trucks!” Avery said as soon as Will pulled up in front of the diner.

Will parked and lifted him out of his car seat. “Yep, pal. This is the chicken and dump trucks place. You’re just about as smart as they come, aren’t you? You should be. Your mama’s smart. Really smart. They don’t let just anybody be a doctor.”

Oops. He couldn’t say things like that in front of people, couldn’t imply that their DNA had anything at all to do with who Avery was or would become. Damn it all to hell. Why did Arabelle have to care so much about what people thought?

But aside from that, things were going … well. Not quite great but plenty good enough for now. They were all living in his house, where he could breathe and work. Arabelle was in his bed, if not his arms. But he had to think that would come soon enough. It had to. He couldn’t stand it much longer. But he could not rush her. Their whole future and Avery’s depended on it.