Sweet Carolina Morning (4 page)

He patted her hand and said in a reassuring voice, “Honey, he's like that a lot of the time with me. He's just being a too-cool preteen.”

Linny nodded, not meeting his eyes. Her gut told her it was more than Neal trying to be cool.

“Linny.” Gently, he tilted her head toward him so he could look in her eyes. “We both know he had a great time. Don't let this get to you. With kids his age, you have to develop a thick skin.”

He was probably right, but she still felt stung. They both were quiet as they watched the Mercedes glide away. Jack looked at the clock on the dash, gave a determined nod, and put the truck in gear. “We might just be able to make our reservation.”

Quietly, Linny deepened her breathing, determined to let go of her hurt feelings and enjoy the evening. After a few minutes she felt calmer. Leaning back in her seat, she glanced over at Jack, admiring his square jaw, the bulk of him, and the look of his strong fingers on the steering wheel. She exhaled softly.
Mine. This lovely man is mine.

The traffic light turned yellow and Jack slowed to a stop. Usually, she loved his careful driving because it made her feel safe, but glancing at the clock on the dash, Linny had to stop her foot from pushing on an imaginary gas petal. Picking at a cuticle, she tried to regain her calm, but it was gone.

By the time Jack eased into the parking lot at Marnie's, it was 7:29. They scrambled from the truck. As Linny closed her door, a can of Cheerwine Neal must have left in the cup holder of the passenger door sloshed onto Linny. Pulling open her coat, Linny froze as she saw the purplish red stain blossom on the lap of her perfect dress. “Oh no,” she cried and fought a childish urge to just call the whole evening off. Everything was ruined.

Jack saw what had happened and looked grim. Quickly grabbing napkins and the water bottle he kept in the glove box, he doused the napkins and dabbed at her dress, but the stain just spread. “I'm sorry, honey. I don't know where Neal even gets those soft drinks. His mother swears she doesn't allow them.” Jack's brows knit and he looked intent as he blotted determinedly.

Linny watched the muscles in his jaw work and saw how hard he was trying to clean up the mess and felt a stab of guilt. She was overreacting. She just needed to calm her little self down. A phrase her mother used to say popped into her head. “That's why they make washing powder.” Softly, she touched Jack's hand to stop the determined dabbing. “It's just a dress.”

Jack gave her a tentative smile and looked relieved. “We'll put some stain stuff on it as soon as we get home.” He closed the truck door and looped an arm around her. “Let's go.”

Together, they trotted to the door of the deep pink old Victorian home that housed the restaurant. The line was long, but the mood of the waiting diners was convivial. It was a mild night for February, and freshly shaven men with their pretty wives or girlfriends chatted and laughed.

As they wove their way through the crowd to the door, Jack reassured the others that they weren't cutting in the line, “Excuse us. Just checking on a reservation.”

Working the reservation desk, a Jennifer Lawrence lookalike wearing black geek glasses and an updo speared through with chopsticks looked up from her screen. “May I help you?”

Close to the chic young beauty, Linny flushed, suddenly aware of her damp, purple-blotched dress and the lipstick she'd chewed off while waiting for Vera. She felt like a dowdy, middle-aged country bumpkin. She leaned closer to the young woman so she'd be heard above the crowd. She said hurriedly, “Our reservation is under Avery. We were scheduled for seven but ran late. Is there any chance our table is still available?”

Jennifer Lawrence shook her head, looking regretful. “I'm so sorry. We had to give your table away a few minutes ago.” She glanced back down at her tablet. “We could have a table for you in an hour and a half. Would you like to relax at the bar with a drink?”

Linny put her hands to her cheek and struggled to tamp down a resurgence of her the-day-is-ruined meltdown and reminded herself she wasn't the kind of woman who indulged in meltdowns or hissy fits. She and Carol Brady were cool under pressure.

Jack said smoothly, “Put us down for a table, and if you get another cancellation, we'd be so grateful.” He put a hand on the small of Linny's back and he steered her toward the bar, murmuring, “If this is too long to wait, we can go somewhere else.”

Linny gave him a wan smile and did a mental search for a plan B restaurant but couldn't think of one place where she'd want to eat that wasn't already booked solid on a Saturday night.

Marnie, the proprietress, glided up to them looking calm and pleasant despite the organized mayhem of the packed restaurant. Tall and willowy, she was dressed in black. Her hair was smoothed into a high, glossy ponytail, and she wore big gold hoops in her ears. She clasped her hands and broke into a grin. “I found you! I was afraid you'd left.”

Linny smiled. “Marnie, this is Jack. Jack, this is Marnie, the talented and hardworking owner of the café.”

“It's a pleasure,” Jack said in his gravelly voice as he shook the woman's hand.

“The pleasure is mine.” Marnie nodded so hard her ponytail bobbed. “I've got a solution for our little seating shortage.” She pointed to a tiny alcove near the fireplace, where two young men were wrestling an enormous potted plant onto a dolly. “Once the boys get that relocated, we'll get a bar table in there and the nook is yours. Will that work?”

“Oh, yes. That will be perfect,” Linny said, touched that the woman would go to such measures for them. “Thank you so much, Marnie.”

“You've been coming to see us long before the food editor wrote us up,” she said staunchly and beamed at them. “Plus, I'm so glad you two love birds have found each other. Young love is lovely, but love at our age . . .” She pointed to a thin gold band on her left hand and broke into a 100-watt smile. Marnie whirled away into the crowd.

Linny gave Jack a delighted smile, remembering news her sister had told her. “Marnie understands. She finally divorced a bad-news, drinker husband and just married a man who was her high-school sweetheart.”

“Ah,” Jack said, nodding sagely as he watched the two employees cart over a small round table. A waiter appeared and quickly spread a snowy tablecloth and arranged two place settings.

Moments later they were seated in their private alcove, the candlelight flickering and the flames from the fireplace casting golden shadows on them. Linny marveled at how an evening that had looked as if it was going downhill had been turned around. She heard a low buzzing sound and tried to tamp down a flash of annoyance as she watched Jack pull his phone from his pocket. She took a sip of iced water and watched him read a text and groan.

“What's wrong?” she asked, tilting her head.

Jack held up the phone, looking exasperated. “Neal says he . . .” Jack made air quotes. “‘may have' left two field mice in his bedroom. He found them in a grain bucket in the barn and brought them in to look up their genus. He got sidetracked packing up to go to his mom's and forgot about them.”

Linny shivered, picturing swarms of mice running across her bare feet, making a nest in her pillow on the guest room bed, and inviting their rat buddies over for house parties. Finally, she stammered, “Why would he bring mice into the house?”

“Because he's twelve years old.” He gave his head a little shake. “Between sulky boys, flighty ex-wives, and all our complications, are you sure you want to take us on? I could understand you turning into a runaway bride and hightailing it out of town.” He gave her a one-sided smile, but his eyes were lit with worry.

She cocked her head, sensing his seriousness. “What do you mean?”

He reached for her hand and held it. “Linny, there are going to be some hard things about us getting married. As much as he cares about you, Neal's going to have trouble adjusting. We'll have to jointly parent with my ex-wife and Chaz. We both have careers that can be demanding.” He frowned and shook his head.

She paused for a moment, considering his words. “I've thought about all that, and we've talked about the . . . complications,” she reminded him. Why was he bringing this up again? Her heart thudding, she snatched her hand away from his. “Are you getting cold feet?”

“No.” He grabbed her hand back and, fixing her with a look, spoke in a voice hoarse with intensity. “You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, but I'm going for full disclosure here. We're in for a rocky ride for a while until we all get settled in.”

She pushed her shoulders back and said in a clear, calm voice, “Jack, I've buried two husbands, been dumped in a money quagmire, been fired from a job, and rebuilt everything. I can handle a rocky ride.”

His eyes lit with love, he studied her for a moment and squeezed her hand. “Your fearlessness is just one other thing I love about you.”

“Good,” she said briskly. “Now, what does a fearless woman need to do to get a glass of wine around here?”

Jack smiled and signaled the waiter.

But as Jack chatted with the man about the wine list and the specials, Linny only pretended to listen. Her awareness of the complications was the reason for her four a.m. wake-up-and worry sessions that had left her with purple shadows under her eyes.

She'd done her research—well, on Google anyhow—and knew the odds. More than 60 percent of second marriages ended in divorce. Oddly, there were no statistics on the odds of marriages working out for those who'd been widowed twice before the age of forty. Her stomach gripped at the thought and she took a gulp of water. But Marnie had found love after many hard years, and Linny's sister Kate hadn't met Jerry until she was in her late thirties and had given up. She gave herself a mental shake. She'd be darned if she'd let a few complications and some unfortunate statistics get in the way of this precious, miraculous relationship.

* * *

The next morning Linny stared glumly at the computer screen, racking her brain for a tactful way to give feedback to her newest client, the founder of a small specialty pharmaceutical company, who'd asked her to get input from his employees on how he was doing as a leader. Browsing through a thesaurus, she looked for a kinder word for
dictator
, but
despot
and
oppressor
weren't the words she was looking for either. Linny rested her chin in her hand. Ah-ha. She'd talk about the
need to develop a more inclusive style of leadership
.

Her phone signaled a message and she snatched it up, grateful for the distraction. Mary Catherine's text read:
Did the 5K mud obstacle course on Saturday. May not live. Please exaggerate my accomplishments at my funeral. You up for rock climbing?

Linny grinned and texted back:
Spa. I'll go to the spa with you. Have enough adventures in my life now w/out dangling from precipice. Feel better.

A
s Linny stood in the vestibule of the church, she gasped as she realized her hand was linked in the arm of her father, who didn't look dead at all and, in fact, looked sporty, wearing a camo jacket, a John Deere cap, and the boots he wore to keep from getting snakebit while hunting. Though his eyes twinkled, his usual raffish grin was replaced by a rictus smile. As the organ music swelled, Linny couldn't believe what she was hearing. Instead of “Wedding March,” the organist was playing “Stand by Your Man
.
” She gazed out into the church and was bewildered as she saw a thousand faces turn toward her, smiling expectantly. She and Jack had agreed on only forty guests. Her knees watery, she held tightly to her daddy's arm, and they glided effortlessly down the aisle. Linny glanced down and saw that vapors swirled where their feet should have been. Her good manners kicking in, she nodded at the beaming guests, wondering who had invited Sandra Bullock and her darling son and daughter, those nice men, Mike and Frank, from
American Pickers
, the dancing hamsters from the Kia commercial, and John and Zack from
Tiny House Nation
. In the next pew, her two dead husbands sat beside each other, looking chummy. When she reached the altar, her father's eyes brimmed as he kissed her cheek and released her. Linny turned to face her handsome groom, Jack, in his cutaway tails, felt a swell of pure joy, and froze, spotting another bride on his other side, gripping his arm possessively. Her heart tried to pound its way out of her chest. It was Vera, looking fragile and delicate in a frothy confection of a gown and a smug smile of victory on her face. “Too late, Linny,” she cooed as Jack slipped a ring on her finger.

Linny gasped. Out. She had to get out. She turned to run, but she was in cold molasses, hot tar. She couldn't stop shivering and her pulse was racing. The old bologna, hard-boiled egg smell was awful, and she turned her head to snatch a breath of fresh air. Her eyes flew open and she breathed out a shuddery sigh of relief as she woke from the dream. Her nightgown clammy cold with sweat, she was pinned in her queen bed between two sprawled dogs, one of which had digestive issues. Plus Roy and Curtis the Great Dane were both big-time bed hogs.

Replaying the bizarre wedding scene, she shivered. What had that been about? Stretching, she looked out the window at the clear, bright day and tried to shake off the darkness of the dream. She gave the boys a push and they groaned but only burrowed deeper into her comforter. Giving up, she pulled each of them closer and hugged them, reassured by their bulk and warmth. After a few moments she gave the dogs an elbow and murmured, “Move, fellas. Time to get up.”

After she fed the two and let them out for a run, she sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and wondered why she'd had the disturbing dream. Had it been caused by the spicy rub on the ahi tuna she ate at supper, or was her unconscious trying to telegraph some urgent message? She gazed out the window and thought about it.

Vera had been so girlish last night, with her hair tossing, her tinkling laugh, and that short skirt twirling around her perfect legs. She'd kept glancing at Jack from under her eyelashes, and now that Linny thought about it, she'd seemed almost flirty with him. Beautiful Vera was a spoiled, manipulative woman—one who needed to be managed. But was she more than that? Even with a brand-spanking-new husband and a Brink's truck full of money, could Vera still be in love with Jack? Linny tried not to think about the unthinkable. What if Jack was still in love with her? She sat up straighter. No. She was being ridiculous.

The jumpiness probably had to do with tonight. She and Jack were eating supper with his parents, Rush and Ceecee, who had just returned home after spending three months at their place on Sanibel Island. This was the first time Linny was meeting them, and Jack was going to tell them he was marrying Linny. She put down her mug of cooling coffee and pushed it away. She ran her hand through her hair and felt uneasy.

How would they react to the news? Jack's divorce had only been finalized last year. Would Rush and Ceecee think it was too soon and he was marrying on the rebound? And what if they flat-out didn't like Linny? She shook her head. You'd think she'd be good at meeting the parents after all the practice she'd had with her other husbands, but this was different.

Linny took a deep breath and reassured herself about all her worries. His parents
would
like her. Jack was a lovely, solid man who loved her, and Vera was in the past. She needed to brace up and stop making herself crazy. Pushing back her chair, she tightened the sash on her robe and walked briskly toward the shower.

* * *

At around five-thirty, Linny pulled open a slat of the living room blinds and, for the third time, peered out to look for Jack's truck. Turning away, she smoothed her hair, took a lint roller to her black turtleneck, and tried to calm herself down

In a knee-length tartan skirt, black sweater, tights and flats, she hoped she'd picked the perfect future daughter-in-law outfit. She had smoothed on only minimal makeup, tamed her curls with a balm called Calm and Gleam, and slipped on small gold hoop earrings. Linny hoped the outfit conveyed,
I'm stable, true to my word, and crazy about your son
, all the things Vera had turned out not to be.

Finally, the truck headlights bobbed up in the driveway. Linny poked her head in the bedroom to check on Roy and Curtis before she left and smiled. The two chums were both sawing logs, sprawled in their respective crates. Grabbing a coat, she went outside to meet Jack.

Jack's eyes lit up when he saw her and he broke into a dazzling smile. “Hey, you,” he called as he caught her in his arms and pressed a kiss to her lips.

Linny melted into his kiss and, when it was over, pressed her head against his chest and breathed in his scent: fresh laundry, pine, a trace of wood smoke. Heavenly.

On the drive to his parents' farm, Jack whistled tunelessly, looking relaxed and happy. Linny tried to think of good subjects to talk about with Rush and Ceecee. She rubbed her clammy hands on her coat and turned to Jack. “Tell me again what your parents are like? Outgoing? Reserved? Funny?”

He paused thoughtfully. “Nice folks. Friendly. Chatty.”

“Which you aren't being right now,” she said drily. She gazed out the window and thought for a moment. Though she'd asked before, she'd ask again. “Are you sure we shouldn't wait to tell them later, not spring me and the marriage on them all at once?”

“No. We're getting married real soon.” Jack shook his head. “Plus, once I told Neal, I had to tell Vera. I asked her not to tell anyone else until I talked to my folks, but who knows if she'll keep quiet?” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “Mama would go ballistic if she heard it from anyone else first.”

Linny nodded and asked tentatively, “Do your folks know I've been married twice before?”

“Not sure I mentioned that,” Jack admitted as he pulled Linny's hand from her lap and intertwined his fingers with hers.

“You should have.” Her words came out in a rush. “Will they think I'm damaged merchandise because you'll be husband number three? Wouldn't they rather you marry some fresh-faced, never-been-married girl?” She shook her head resignedly. “They'll probably think I'm like that black widow on death row whose husbands kept dying because she put anti-ant in their meatloaf.”

Jack raised an eyebrow at her. “You're worrying way too much about this”—he gave her a mock reproving look—“and watching too much
20/20
.”

She gave him a wan smile.

He lifted her hand and kissed it. “They'll love you, darling girl.”

For a moment Linny felt reassured, then thought about her hot and cold running relationship with Neal. “Not everybody loves me, Jack.”

“Well, I do. Very much.” Jack let go of her hand and softly touched her cheek. “Now, can you try to relax and enjoy the evening?”

She smiled, warmed by his reassurances, and nodded her assent.

As they drove up the winding driveway, Linny peered between the cedars that lined it and, in the dusky light, glimpsed rolling acres of farmland that seemed to go on and on. How big was this place? She thought about her mama's brick ranch and her own trailer. Linny gave Jack a sideways glance, but he was driving with one hand and fiddling with the radio station, trying to get the score on the NC State basketball game before they went in. She gave a small intake of breath as they pulled up to the sprawling, white brick Federal-style farmhouse. She counted twelve generous windows just in front of the house and saw another abutting wing that looked equal to the size of the main house. She had a crazy, nervous thought: Did Jack's mama use a golf cart to get around the house? Picturing a woman with pink curlers in her hair zooming around the house in a golf cart with a laundry basket on the seat beside her, Linny smiled. As Jack turned off the ignition, she turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “When you talked about ‘Mama and Daddy's farm,' I pictured a modest little old place, not something this”—she waved a hand—“this grand.”

He looked sheepish. “I guess I never think about it being . . . grand.” He gave her the lopsided smile that usually made her melt, but tonight she was wound up too tightly for any melting. He swung down from his seat and walked around the truck to open her door.

“I come from a long line of not-fancy people,” she reminded him in a small voice. As she stepped down, she thought about Mama's clothes that came from Penney's, and Daddy's everyday wear of jeans and work boots. “Are your folks grand?”

He snorted. “Naw. Dad's law practice has been good to them, but they're just country people who worked hard and made a little something for themselves.”

Before they'd even both arrived on the top step, the door swung open and a soaring aria wafted out into the night air. A petite woman with snow-cream white hair pouffed into an elaborate updo ran nimbly down the stairs, launched herself at Jack, and hugged him extravagantly. “Oh, my darling boy. I've missed you.”

Jack grinned, hugged her tight, and kissed the top of her head. Finally extricating himself from her arms, Jack kept an arm around Ceecee's shoulders and turned her toward Linny. “Mama, this is Linny.”

Ceecee looked faintly surprised to see her. Her good manners kicked in, though, and she touched Linny's arm, giving her a cordial smile. “So nice to meet you, my dear.”

Linny smiled. “Nice to see you, Mrs. Avery.”

“Please, just call me Ceecee.” She shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms, the heavy charm bracelet on her wrist tinkling. “Ooh, it's chilly. Let's get you two inside near the fire.”

As she helped them off with their coats, Jack's mother called into the other room, “Darling, will you turn down the music? Jack is here.” As the music quieted, Ceecee kept up a line of pleasant chatter. “It looks like a full moon tonight, or almost a full moon. It's waxing”—she put a finger to her pink bow of a mouth—“or is it waning?” She waved a hand. “I can never remember which is which.” She smiled at Linny, blasting her with startlingly beautiful green eyes.

Linny blinked, feeling a jolt of recognition. That's where Jack had gotten his eyes, which could make her clothes fall off if she wasn't careful.

“You two kids can join Daddy in the living room. He's been watching the clock, waiting for you.” She rolled her eyes affectionately. “I'll warn you, he's found an old mixology book and is gung ho on mixing fancy drinks. I've got to check on something in the oven, but I'll join you in two shakes of a lamb's tail.” With a gay little wave, she trotted off, her kitten heels clacking on the wood floors.

For a moment, Jack and Linny just looked at each other. Jack's lips twitched and he drawled, “Well? What do you think?”

“Goodness.” Her thoughts scrabbled around for something neutral to say. “She's certainly . . . high energy . . . and chatty.” She peered at him and said in a low voice, “And I see where you got those killer eyes.”

He smirked, grabbed her hand, and led her down the hall.

The wood-paneled living room was lined with bookshelves and a wood fire crackled and blazed in a stone fireplace. A tall, broad man with a cue-ball head goosed a log with a poker, causing a shower of sparks. Spotting them, he beamed and threw wide his arms. “Welcome, welcome! Mama and I have been looking forward to your visit.”

After giving Jack a back-slapping man hug, he reached out a country-ham-sized hand to Linny and enveloped her hand in it. His eyes sparkled and his gaze was direct. “Welcome, my dear. Any friend of Jack's is a friend of ours.”

Ceecee bustled in with plates of hors d'oeuvre. “I need to confess, I didn't actually make these cheese straws myself because there's a lady down at Oakwood Café who makes them much better than I ever could. Mine just never have the right crunch to them, even though I follow the recipe from
Southern Living
exactly.” She gave a helpless shrug and raised her hands palms up.

Rush gazed at his wife affectionately and held up a finger. “Sweet cakes, I need to get to my bartending, don't I?” He padded over to a bar cart in his Wallabees, his wide-wale corduroys making a
swish, swish
sound as he walked. He looked at Jack and Linny and held up a red book. “Now this is a classic:
Mr. Boston Official Bartender's Guide
. I have a couple of suggestions if you kids want to try an old-timey cocktail.”

Once they'd settled on couches in front of the fire, Linny nibbled on a cheese straw and took a tentative sip of her Grasshopper. Not bad in a drink-your-mouthwash kind of way.