Secrets over Sweet Tea (20 page)

Zach walked into his second-floor apartment and flicked on the light. Sparse living conditions greeted him each night. He had a sofa and a coffee table and a television in the living room, and the bedroom had a box spring and mattress on the floor. No pictures on the walls. No bric-a-brac, as he often called it. Absolute minimum of kitchen stuff.

It was a makeshift habitation, but it was his, and he’d even grown to like it. He dropped the brown paper bag from Bread & Company on the counter and held the phone against his ear as he pulled the key from the door. “I know, Caroline, but I want to see the kids this weekend. Our separation agreement clearly states when they are to be with me.”

“Well, they don’t want to come over to your apartment. There’s nothing for them to do there. And they’ll be starting school next week. We’ve got stuff to do, school supplies to buy, clothes shopping. This is their last weekend to get all of that done.”

“They need to see their father. This isn’t convenient for any of us, but they need me, and I need to see them. I’m settled enough now that they can spend the night. It will be like a sleepover.”

He could envision her pacing. She always paced when she talked. “They’re about to start high school, Zach. The last thing they want is a sleepover with their father.”

“That may be, but we still need to be together. When can I get them?”

Her sigh came heavy through the phone, but they both knew she couldn’t keep him from his kids. That wouldn’t bode
well for any future arrangement. “I’ll have them ready to go tomorrow at five. You can bring them back Sunday night.”

“Okay. I’ll be there at five.” He was about to say thank you when she spoke again.

“I saw Scarlett Jo Newberry the other day. I swear I’ve never met a woman with more gall—or less tact. And that hair, those clothes—the woman is just plain tacky. I don’t know how we lasted at that church so long. She’s hounding me to call her back, so you need to tell her husband to have her leave me alone.”

“Um, yeah . . . well, okay. But I haven’t talked to Jackson much either. Not since that day he said those things to you.”

“Well, they are both crazy, and I don’t want anything to do with them. You leave them out of our lives, do you hear me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll call the girls and tell them good night.”

“Fine. And if you are keeping them this weekend, you can take them shopping for school supplies.” With that she hung up.

He held the phone in his hand and envisioned a weekend of shopping with his teenage daughters. Caroline wanted to torture him. It was evident.

He poured himself a glass of fruit tea, then picked up the bag from the counter and carried it to the coffee table. He pulled out his favorite sandwich, the Steeplechase—cranberry bread, pulled turkey, honey mustard, apples—and a bag of chips. He sat on the sofa, took a bite of his sandwich, and leaned his head back, savoring the quiet. Guiltily grateful that Caroline’s voice wouldn’t be pounding in his head all night.

Their phone conversation funneled through him, her words about Scarlett Jo Newberry. Caroline had always looked down
on Scarlett Jo. To be honest, Zach had too. And Scarlett Jo was out there; that was for sure. But now he wondered if his attitude had derived mostly from Caroline’s perception. Jackson Newberry clearly adored his wife, and despite their disagreement, Zach respected Jackson.

He let his mind ponder the past few months. The forced exit from his home. The legal separation Caroline had insisted on. Accusations flying through town from the stir Caroline was making. And the more time that passed with them living two separate lives, the more distance that time created in their hearts, until there were moments he couldn’t even remember why he had married her in the first place.

Then there was work, his cases. Grace Shepherd’s case had begun about the same time everything fell apart for Zach. Now it was done, while his situation was still unresolved. No divorce filing. No counseling. Just this bare apartment.

The summer had taken him on an odd and painful journey. And though this was in no way the life he was accustomed to, there were things about it that he craved. He liked the simplicity, the lack of motion, the quiet. Especially the quiet. Life with Caroline and the girls was one of perpetual motion. There was never any place for his heart to settle or his mind to rest, never a moment when they could just
be
. There was always noise. People. Activity. Stuff. Distraction.

He let that last thought linger awhile, and with it came revelation. Wasn’t that what he and Caroline had both been doing for the last few years—distracting themselves? Hers was a distraction of the heart with activity and illusive control. His was a distraction of the heart with self-gratification. They
were
both broken, weren’t they? Just like Jackson said.

He thought of Grace’s quiet poise today, of her compassion and her willingness to give him a second chance. Then he thought of Caroline. Tense and driven. Desperate to be right, to win no matter what, to feel superior to other people. Unable or unwilling to give without getting something in return.

And in that moment he realized Jackson Newberry was right.
It’s not just me.
Caroline shared the guilt he had claimed as solely his own. She had come into this marriage with her own stuff—her insecurity, her dependence on her mother, her perfectionism—and it had helped bring them to this place.

Caroline was hurting—he knew that. Beneath all her anger was a deep, undeniable, desperate hurt. But in order for their marriage to survive, they
both
had to be willing to look at their stuff, didn’t they?

But what if she won’t do it?

The thought hit him hard, followed by an answer:
I have to do it anyway.

He had to be willing to go on this journey to the unknown, to be man enough to claim what he had done to get his heart into this pitiful shape. He stared at the white walls that surrounded him. The symbolism struck him. He could let this be the start of something new, a clean slate, a true adventure for him too, if he was simply willing.

When his phone vibrated on the sofa beside him, he looked down and saw Jackson’s name. He almost laughed. Answering it would mean something. Answering it would mean he was willing to finally confront all the things that got him here.

It rang a second time. He suspected hell itself would freeze over before Caroline Craig ever admitted anything was wrong
with her. He had buried one marriage today. He prayed he wouldn’t have to bury his own.

He picked up his phone as it rang a fourth time. Zach Craig had a choice to make. No matter what choice Caroline made, this was a defining moment for him.

The phone rang again. And he answered it.

“When you’re all healed from this divorce thing, please tell me
she
doesn’t have to hang around us anymore,” Rachel whispered. She motioned with her eyes at Scarlett Jo, who had moved a little ahead.

Grace elbowed her. “I can assure you it’s going to take longer than a month.”

Scarlett Jo grasped the brass handle of a large black-painted wooden door. She ushered them into the Red Pony restaurant, which was nestled between the Heirloom Shop and Walton’s Antique Jewelry, its boundaries marked off by red-painted brick. Dark walls encased them as they entered, and a metal screen painted in a pussy willow pattern stood at attention across from them. The dim lighting and dark woods brought
a nighttime effect indoors, even though the sun was still a few hours from setting.

“Can I help you ladies?” the young hostess inquired.

“Newberry. For three.” The large white bow wrapped around Scarlett Jo’s head bounced as she said it.

“I swear, she needs that ribbon to keeps all her brains together,” Rachel muttered.

“Stop it,” Grace warned. “You’re—”

“What in the world are you doing?” Rachel stared as Scarlett Jo patted her body all over and shook like a dog after a bath.

“I’m making sure I don’t have any cicadas on me.”

“You can’t be serious. The cicadas all keeled over weeks ago.”

Scarlett Jo did her habitual nose-crinkle thing. “You’re kidding. They’re gone?”

Rachel walked to the door and opened it. “Listen, Scarlett Jo.” She stuck her head out. “Can you hear anything?”

Scarlett Jo tilted her head, listening. “Well, I’ll be. I can’t believe I’ve wasted precious weeks of my life hiding from those things.”

Grace could see Rachel’s brain working. She was certain Rachel would use this exchange to her advantage at some point.

The hostess called them and led them toward a staircase to the second floor. They maneuvered around the bar, where many patrons had already deposited themselves for the sweet hour that declared the weekend had arrived. Two men on the end turned their heads, and Grace felt their eyes follow the three of them as they headed up the stairs. Her thumb instinctively rubbed her empty ring finger, and her heart ached.

On the second floor, a server ushered them into a large room. Two wood-and-mirrored-glass serving tables occupied
the room’s center, each adorned with a soaring flower arrangement that practically touched the ceiling. The three women were shown to a beautifully set four-top nestled against one of the brick walls.

Grace allowed the soothing atmosphere to calm her. She was going to enjoy an evening out with the girls. It was just what she needed after another grueling week of learning how to survive.

As Rachel slid her black napkin into her lap, she posed a question. “Who would name a restaurant Red Pony?”

Scarlett Jo didn’t miss a beat. “It’s from a Steinbeck novella.”

Both Rachel’s and Grace’s eyebrows went up. Grace smiled. Rachel mouthed, “She reads.”

Grace rolled her eyes. Fortunately Scarlett Jo was already facedown in the menu. The girl saw eating as a lifestyle.

“Oh, my word, they have the best shrimp and grits ever here.” Scarlett Jo poked her finger at the middle of the menu.

Grace picked up her menu and glanced through it. Nothing caught her eye. She hadn’t had an appetite in six months.

“Ooh, and their blue cheese risotto. Oohwee, that stuff is slap-your-mama good.” She raised her hand toward Rachel.

“You better not slap me,” Rachel shot back. “I’m telling you now. You have been warned.”

Scarlett Jo laughed and flicked her menu at Rachel, then looked at them both as if the best idea had hit her. “I know. Let’s get three different things and share.” She bounced in her seat. “That way we can all get a little taste of everything.”

Grace put her menu down. That was one less decision she had to think about. “Sure,” she said. “You pick.”

Rachel nudged her. “I want to pick something too.”

Scarlett Jo clapped her hands together. “Okay, yes, you pick.
I love surprises.” She placed her hands on the table and leaned forward. “Do you know I let each one of my boys be a surprise? I mean, the fact that they were boys. I never let the sonogram lady tell me they had wingadingas.”

Rachel slapped Grace’s arm. “She did not say that!”

Grace couldn’t help but smile.

“What?” Scarlett Jo looked back and forth between them. “What? What do
you
call them?”

Grace shook her head at Rachel, who had opened her mouth to speak. “You don’t want to know.”

Scarlett Jo flapped her hands. “Anyway, I just waited until they popped out. Never knew what a one of them was going to be.” She leaned back. “So you pick, Rachel. Surprise us.” She said the last two words in a husky, spooky voice.

Rachel rolled her eyes and picked up the menu. She gave Scarlett Jo both her requests, the shrimp and grits and the beef tenderloin with the blue cheese–sweet corn risotto. Then she added the Red Pony BLT—bacon, lobster, and tomato over Yukon Gold ravioli. Scarlett Jo licked her lips with sheer excitement as Rachel gave their order to the waitress.

Grace was grateful for her two friends because their banter kept her from having to make conversation while waiting for their food. And despite Rachel’s attitude, Grace could tell she was beginning to like Scarlett Jo. Scarlett Jo wasn’t afraid to ask or say anything. She was a straight shooter. She asked Rachel about everything from race to religion and multiple topics in between, and she didn’t bristle at the answers. Scarlett Jo would declare her love for Sarah Palin, Rachel would pretend to gag, and Scarlett Jo would just laugh. There was no taking offense, no high-maintenance personality to soothe. And
because Rachel was such a straightforward person herself, she appreciated that. They were an odd combination, these three. But they were becoming a sweet one.

Rachel kept the conversation going even as the waitress arrived with the food. “Scarlett Jo, where did you go to school?”

Grace had never even thought to ask.

“Ole Miss. I majored in philosophy.”

Rachel moved her glass to make room for the tenderloin platter. “You majored in what?”

“I know. Crazy, right?” Scarlett Jo speared a shrimp with her fork. “Most people would have me pegged as an early-childhood education major or a dropout. But there’s stuff up in there.” She tapped her head. “Past the big hair and big headbands and underneath all that bleach, there is something up in there.”

Grace smiled. “I can see that about you.”

Rachel shook her head. “Then you are a bigger woman than me. I wouldn’t have pegged that for anything.”

Grace elbowed her, but Scarlett Jo laughed. “Grace, it’s okay. It’s not like I go around ruminating on the great mysteries of life or anything. Truth is, I find it more interesting to ponder life as it’s being lived.”

Rachel looked at Grace and shrugged. “Who knew?”

Forty minutes later, Scarlett Jo pushed away the remnants of her chocolate demise cake and unfastened the top button of her black walking shorts. “Oh, girls, you’re going to have to roll Mama out of here.”

Rachel stood and took Scarlett Jo by the arm. “Come on. You can do it. Just squeeze those cheeks together and push yourself out of there.”

Scarlett Jo raised her head with a haughty sniff. “Philosophers do not partake in such childish banter.”

Rachel laughed. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re not a philosopher, then.”

Scarlett Jo snorted and slapped her. “Ain’t it though.”

Grace yawned hard. The richness of the meal and her early morning hours since going back to work made eight at night feel like midnight. She placed her hands on the edge of the wooden table and forced her body out of the chair. She got to the top of the stairs and wished for another way down, one that didn’t pass the bar. Scarlett Jo and Rachel were in front of her, laughing and carrying on, so she just kept her head down and followed them out.

They headed down the sidewalk, the Friday night crowd as thick as the August humidity. They could see people milling around outside Mellow Mushroom at the end of the street by the square, waiting for a table with cold drinks and good pizza. As they passed the building next to Zach’s law firm, Grace couldn’t help but peek.

Scarlett Jo and Rachel both noticed. “What are you looking at?” Rachel asked.

Grace had stopped. She couldn’t help it. The For Lease sign was still up. She leaned close and squinted, trying to see into the darkened building. She couldn’t make out a teapot any longer. “I just think this is a quaint space.”

“A quaint space for what?” Rachel goaded.

Grace shrugged.

Scarlett Jo let out one of her melodramatic gasps. “Oh, my side, Grace. This would be a perfect space for you to open your
restaurant.” She bounced excitedly as she spoke as if she were going to do it herself.

Rachel sidled up next to her. “Is that what you’re thinking, Grace?”

Grace shrugged once more and cocked her head slightly, still looking inside the building. “I don’t know. I was kind of . . . dreaming. About a tearoom.”

“It’s okay to dream, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Scarlett Jo leaned in close to them. “A tearoom would be perfect. You could serve those scones. Oh, mercy, those scones.” She used that voice again, that ecstasy-ridden, deep growl thing she had that always made Grace a little concerned about her mental health. “And that cream. Oh, boatloads of that cream. And little finger sandwiches.”

“How can you get excited about food right now?” Rachel asked. “I’m not sure I ever want to eat again.”

Scarlett Jo was already lost in her new world. “And we could decorate it in canary yellow and tangerine and teal!”

Rachel raised a hand. “Hold on there, chief. The only one living in the exploding Crayola box is you. Me and Grace here are chocolate and vanilla kind of girls, not rainbow sherbet, if you get where I’m going with this.”

Scarlett Jo clapped her hands together again, her excitement not in the least bit drained by Rachel’s insult to her color palette. “Well, you can do the interior. That’s fine. But I want to be the tasting expert. And I can taste everything first and then greet customers and tell them what they should order.”

Grace started walking up the street again. “I’m glad y’all have
such grand plans for my money. Which I don’t have enough of to take a huge risk like that.”

“Banks have money,” Scarlett Jo suggested.

Grace chuckled. “Yes, they do. They also have strict regulations, and I’m sure they wouldn’t lend me enough to start a business.”

Rachel grabbed her arm, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “I’d lend it to you.”

Grace heard the seriousness in Rachel’s tone and saw the solemnity of her friend’s face. “What? You don’t have that kind of money.”

“Jason does.”

Grace so loved her friend in that moment. “Rach, I know you and Jason would do anything for me. But I’m not taking your money or his money to start a business.”

“But we’ve been looking for something to invest it in. And this town could actually use a tearoom. You know how people hated it when Homestead Manor closed down. And Lillie Belle’s is no longer a tearoom. There is no tearoom around here, which is a shame because we’re Southerners. We love tearooms. And your food, Grace. No one I know cooks like you. Everything you make is so good.”

Scarlett Jo ran her tongue across her lips. “Ooh, so good.”

Rachel pointed a finger at Scarlett Jo. “Stop it! Seriously, you have to get control of yourself. You’re freaking me out.”

Scarlett Jo clapped her hands together and straightened her back. “Sorry. Yes, go ahead. You were talking about how we are going to start a business.”

Rachel shook her head adamantly. “No, I am not talking about how
we
are going to start a business. I am talking about
how
she
is going to start a business. I will be a silent partner and financier. And you, Scarlett Jo, will be even more silent.”

Scarlett Jo got a pouty look on her face. “But I want to do something. I want to work. Wait tables. Greet customers.”

Grace put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. Rachel wagged her finger at Scarlett Jo. “No, no greeting customers. But maybe we can find something for you to do.”

“I’m going to have a job!” Scarlett Jo screamed. She ignored the strange looks from a gaggle of teenagers skirting them. “A real live job!”

Rachel glared. “There will be no job if you don’t learn how to control yourself.”

Scarlett Jo grabbed one of the kids and whispered, “I’m going to have a job.”

The girl slid from her hands and ran down the street.

Scarlett Jo straightened herself up again. “Okay. Yes. Complete control.”

Rachel moved closer to Grace. “Seriously, Grace, think about it. If there ever was a time in your life for you to do something that you want to do, it’s now. Not because it’s smart. Not because it will make someone else happy. Not because it’s practical or makes sense in the long run. But just because you want to do it. You want that for you.”

Grace studied her friend’s eyes. Rachel meant every word. Simply knowing that was almost overwhelming.