The Dixie Belle's Guide to Love (7 page)

“Rita, you have never done whatever you please. I know you.” He licked the tip of his thumb and began cleaning up the tiniest fleck of white chocolate on the neckline of his dress. “Your entire life is about pleasing others, not yourself.”

“Then maybe it’s time I changed.” Mercy! Did she say that? And without so much as a quiver in her voice?

“I know you’ve brought him in to fix this place up to sell it.” Pernel stabbed a finger in Will’s direction, his silver charm bracelet almost knocking over a dipped strawberry on the edge of the cake’s crown. “Or worse yet to show me up. I won’t have it.”

“That not your call, bud…uh, lady?” Will scratched his ear and grimaced. “Is there something particular that people call you?”

“Is that a crack?” Pernel shifted in his seat so fast the cake stand wobbled. “Rita, your hired help is making a crack at my expense.”

“He just wants to know how to refer to you,” she said.

“And I’m not the
hired help
.”

“Tell your handyman that I haven’t chosen my new name but do lean toward Starla.”

Rita put her head in her hands.

“Starla Stark. It has an air about it.” He raised his hand elegantly. “Don’t you think?”

“All I can think about is keeping this cake nice until Miss Peggy arrives.”

Pernel sat up straighter than an arrow. “Miss Peggy is coming
here
?”

“Any minute.”

“I like that Miss Peggy.” Pernel shook the hair off his face. “She has a lot of class. Person with that much class can hold her head up despite the occasional disappointment handed her.”

Will grunted.

“Style. Class.” Pernel sighed. “That’s something a person is born with. You wouldn’t understand, of course, Rita. You totally missed the boat on that count.”

“I…I what?” She lifted her head, unable to believe her ears.

“Face it. You’re middle-of-the-road, middle-class, fair-to-middling, muddling along through life.”

Up until she’d heard it spill out of her ex-husband’s glossed-within-an-inch-of-an-oil-slick lips, she had thought those were totally acceptable traits. Admirable even. Not the way she dreamed of living her life, but nothing to feel ashamed of, either. Her cheeks grew hot.

“And no amount of small-town social butt-kissing, no too-tacky-for-words tea party you stage, no meathead brought in from Memphis, can alter that simple fact.” Pernel said it so matter-of-factly, not haughty or mean.

That only made it sound all the more scathing as a description in Rita’s ears.

“You are what you are, Rita. Darling in your own way but deliberate and dull. Dull, dull, dull. And I forbid you to take on changing anything in my restaurant on your own.”

Will’s chair creaked. Hostility rose from his body like steam from a pot about to bubble over.

Rita beat him to the boiling point. “You forbid me? You
forbid
? Oh, that takes the cake, Pernel.”

“No, Rita, he’s not worth it.” Will must have read her mind, or maybe in her anger she had telegraphed her intent a little too clearly. Either way, he got to the Princess cake a half second before she could grab the stand by the pedestal and dump all three layers down Pernel’s dress.

“You’re right, of course, Will.” She threw back her shoulders. “My cake deserves better, and so do I.”

“Yes, you do,” Will agreed.

“So listen to me, Starla and/or Pernel Stark. You cannot forbid me to do anything.”

Pernel crossed his legs like he’d grown bored with her attempted outburst already.

Rita ground her back teeth together. “I
will
renovate the Palace.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” her ex muttered.

She pulled her shoulders up and raised her chin. If she had her crown handy, she might have plunked that on her head to add the proper air to her pronouncements. “Maybe I’ll get myself a makeover while I’m at it.”

Pernel scoffed.

“I may even overhaul the way I live my very life if I damn well please.”
Was that me talking?
Rita recognized the voice, but the fire underneath the words was new and exciting in ways she couldn’t fully grasp. “Whatever I do, whenever I
do it, and whomever I do it with, that’s my business, and
you
have nothing to say about it.”

Pernel rose. “All I’m saying, sweetie, is that you will need some advice, some guidance.”

“I have that.” She put her hand on Will’s shoulder. “From someone I trust and look up to.” She glanced down at Will. For one fleeting instant she wondered what emotion she saw glinting in those dark, deep eyes, then it disappeared.

With a nod he urged her to go on.

“And furthermore…” She faced Pernel again. “I will not take any more lectures in style and class from a man who doesn’t have any more taste than to wear red shoes with a magenta scarf and trowel on more makeup than a two-dollar whore on half-price night.”

“Oh puhl-eese, Rita. You are never going to follow through on this. I know you. You can’t endure any upheaval in your life.”

“I’ve already endured plenty of that. Now I find I can endure anything I have to in order to get what I want.”

“What you
want
? I don’t think you know what that is!”

Damn but it was hard to argue with the truth. She folded her arms. “Right now I want to stand up for myself and maybe just once in my life meet whatever is coming without fear for how it might throw everything off kilter.”

“Careful what you wish for.” Will pushed back his chair and stood slowly.

Pernel’s resentment softened, and he offered
a genuinely warm glimpse of the kind man—person—he could be when not on the defensive. “Now, that’s the only sound piece of counsel you’re bound to get from your—”

Outside the Palace, brakes squealed. A
whumpa-whump-thud
announced that a tank of a car had swerved too fast into the pitted parking lot, hitting every pothole and rut possible along the way.

“She’s headed straight for the window!” Rita didn’t know whether to dive behind the counter or sacrifice herself to protect her cake.

“Relax, she won’t—” Before Will could complete his assurance, the cruise ship of a Caddy came sailing up onto the sidewalk and glided to a halt just inches shy of the picture window.

“Jillie!” Will called in the general direction of the powder room. “Get your skinny ass out here pronto! Mama has arrived.”

Rita took a few steps toward the door.

Will held her back with a touch. “If you’ll excuse me.”

She pressed her hand to her heart and tried to force her breathing into some kind of normal rhythm. She had not asked for any of this. Not for Pernel’s intrusion, or for Miss Peggy and whatever turmoil she would most certainly bring. She had not even asked for Will’s help, had she? She hardly knew anymore. Hardly recognized her own life.

Careful what you wish for? Up until now she’d been careful with everything. Now she was mak
ing speeches about letting things come into her life without fear? Maybe Pernel was right and she—

“Miss Peggy’s in on this?” Pernel tucked his too-obviously synthetic hair behind one ear and bent over the table, inhaling the aroma of the perfect cake sitting there. “That’s some comfort. She’ll set things straight right away.”

“I don’t need anyone to set things straight for me, Pernel.”

“Oh, Rita, that’s cute.” He laughed, and though he did not seem to intend it to hurt, it did. “Admit it, you are in way over your head. I tell you, you are simply not equipped to handle the unexpected. You’re just too predict—”

She never would have guessed how good it would feel to push anyone into one of her prized creations. But, oh, as Pernel went facefirst into the three layers of blood-red cake with creamy white frosting, sending the carefully dipped strawberries bouncing off the nasty Palace floor, she sighed in utter delight and relief.

“Predictable, huh?” She wiped the last bits of boiled frosting onto Pernel’s skirt. “Bet you didn’t see that coming.”

He pulled up and began wiping the mess away with both hands. “Rita, you are going to regret this.”

She already did, she thought, as she heard the door open and Miss Peggy scold, “Great Caesar’s ghost! Honey, that is no way for a lady of quality to behave!”

Will had planned to help his sixty-seven-year-old mother out of her six-month-old Cadillac, but she’d beat him to the punch—and to the Palace front door. Of course he had the excuse of getting distracted by Rita’s sudden burst of independence and her unexpected decision to help Pernel to some Princess cake.

“Miss Peggy! I never intended for you to see…” Rita tucked her hands behind her back. “You caught me at my worst, I’m afraid.”

“Worst my ass, I’d say she caught you at your very best.” Will laughed as he leaned in to kiss his mother on the cheek. “Afternoon, Mother. If you’ve come for cake, you’re too damn late.”

Margaret Curtis Morgan West breezed right past him. She’d get to him later. He had no doubt
of that. Right now she had her priorities. “Rita, I won’t pretend. I am disappointed to see so blatant a breakdown of those most gracious conventions that define us as people of good taste and breeding.”

“I know, Miss Peggy.” Rita hung her head.

Seeing her humbled like that, in the wake of her first real attempt at standing up for herself, just hit Will the wrong way. “Mother, you have no call to—”

“A lady of good taste and breeding serves her guests first.” His mother hobbled by, aided by nothing but her brass-handled cane and more nerve than one tiny, pale-haired woman had a right to possess. “
Then
she pushes her ex-husband’s face into the cake. Good manners before bad temper always, Rita-sugar.”

“I…” Rita blinked.

“At all times, good manners, first and foremost.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

“I know you will, sugar.” She tipped her head ever-so-demurely to the right. “Unlike my own ungrateful offspring, you listen and pay heed when I try to share the benefit of my experience.”

“That’s because, unlike your own undaunted offspring, she doesn’t realize that half of what comes out of your mouth skims the shady side of the truth.” It only took Will one stride to reach his mother. He tried to take her elbow to assist her, but she slipped it from his hand and tapped her
cane as though she intended to use it for more than support. “The other half is pure orneriness for nothing but orneriness’s sake.”

“Is there a window open in here, Rita-sugar?”

“No, ma’am. Do you need some fresh air?”

“No, darling, thank you for your concern. I just felt a draft of hot air a moment ago and heard a lot of senseless buzzing.” She pulled a hankie from inside her jacket sleeve and waved it around, shooing away invisible gnats.

Will raised an eyebrow. “Comparing your only son to a pest, Mama?”

She did not acknowledge his presence with so much as a bat of her eyelashes. “Well, it can’t be my son. My son is in Memphis. He would never come to town without telling his precious mother he was here. I raised him better than that.”

“Me?” Will burst out laughing. “Mama, since when has how you raised me been an indicator of how I’d act?”

She tipped her nose up and sniffed, waved her hankie about again. She took a few steps and handed the crisp white cloth to the man dripping bits of red cake onto his size-eleven pumps. “And how’re you doing, Pernel?”

Pernel dabbed the handkerchief to his face, careful not to smear food on the delicate monogram. “I’m hurt, Miss Peggy. Hurt and beleaguered.”

“That’s nice.” She smiled and gestured toward the door like she was scooting away a sulking child. “I think it’s best if you go on home now. This doesn’t concern you anymore.”

“It never did concern him,” Will muttered, moving closer to Rita.

“What did I miss?” Jillie emerged from the bathroom just in time to cut him off before he got to Rita’s side.

“Nothing.” Rita had the composure to appear as if that were the Gospel truth.

“Trouble mastering the complexities of silverware, Pernel?” Jillie took a spot between Will and Rita, leaning close to share a snicker with her old friend.

His sister pushing her way in to take Rita’s side only pissed Will off. It shouldn’t have. He understood that. But ever since Pernel paraded into the Palace, Will had gone on primal-male-as-protector mode. It was the same kind of thus far untapped feeling in him that had led him to volunteer to help Rita entirely against her wishes, he supposed. Whatever it was, it sure as hell kicked in around that woman with her hopeful eyes, bountiful sexy body, fabulous dimples, and a life sorely in need of a rescuer.

A rescuer? Him? Man, he got in deeper and deeper with every breath, didn’t he? He looked over Jillie’s head at Rita and had the odd but not unpleasant sensation of sinking in quicksand.

Pernel folded the handkerchief and wiped his chin. “I just don’t know what to do about all this, Miss Peggy.”

“I told you what to do, darling. Go home.”

For a split second, it looked like Pernel might challenge the imp of a lady dressed in an impossi
bly unwrinkled pink-linen suit. Then he threw back his head and with the weight of the icing on one side of his wig causing it to slowly slide lopsided, he said, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Looks like your mama’s wishes even hold sway over men daring enough to wear rhinestones in the afternoon.”

“Rhinestones?” Will dragged his knuckle over the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow on his jaw and chuckled. “That sure does explain a lot. Men with real stones are neither bullied nor beguiled by her, I assure you.”

Rita leaned forward. Her hair swung against her cheek, and her shirt fell open to show as much of her magnificent breasts as a man dared see with his mother so nearby. She grinned at him, her voice soft, “You adore her, and I know it.”

“You aren’t actually accusing me of giving a damn about someone besides myself, are you?”

“Y’all pipe down, I’m trying to listen.” Jillie tipped her head toward the Peggy and Pernel floor show being served up a few feet away.

Pernel offered to return her handkerchief, but the Dixiefied pixie of a woman shook her head. “Oh, and Pernel, darling, before I forget—did you pick yourself out a pretty new name yet?”

Mother was in rare form today. Every inch the woman Will often described to his friends as “Scarlett O’Helmsley.”

“I’m leaning toward Starla, Miss Peggy, but nothing definite yet.”

“That’s fine. Just don’t forget to send ’round
notecards when you make your final decision, you hear?”

“I will, Miss Peggy.”

“Now hurry along, or stains will set in that attractive new dress of yours.”

“I will.” He nodded a good-bye and, with the awful magenta scarf trailing behind him, headed for the door. He paused only long enough to give Rita a surprisingly tender look. “I do want what’s best for you, you know.”

“That’s not for you to decide,” Rita whispered.

“Regardless of what direction my life takes, I will always care about what happens to you.”

“I know.”

“Asking me to stay completely out of your life, after all we’ve gone through together, after all the years we’ve invested in our child and each other? It’s like asking me not to breathe.”

“Now there’s an attractive proposition.” Will shifted his feet, both hands in his pockets and his shoulders deceptively relaxed.

“This is not for you to mix into, Will.” Even with her head bent Rita’s voice carried an aching uncertainty that gripped Will by the emotional throat and left him speechless.

How could she still harbor feelings for the man? If someone had treated him the way Pernel had Rita, Will would be gone so fast and so far…

“You’ll always be a part of my life, too.” She took her ex’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I do understand that.”

She’d ruin everything. She felt bad about the
way she’d acted and, with one pointlessly sympathetic gesture, was going to undo the small stride she had made by standing up to Pernel.

Will raked his hand through his hair. “This is not happening.”

Both Rita and Pernel looked at him.

Had he said that aloud? No matter. He’d meant it, and he’d stand behind it. He folded his arms. “Well, not while I’m around it’s not.”

“You may have a reputation as a hound but you won’t be playing watchdog here for long, and we
all
know it.”
In other words Rita’s life will go back to the way it was in a day or so.
Pernel didn’t have to say it to communicate his meaning.

He told the truth. Will could not play watchdog indefinitely. However, maybe he could stay on the job just long enough to help her find her own voice. Coax her toward claiming her strengths so she could stand up to anyone who would play on her fears of stepping beyond the boundaries of her present life. Anyone who would keep her from reaching for something more.

She had done as much for him once by being the only person who would tell him the truth, who would not let him coast, who pushed him to be the kind of man that even he had not known he could be. He wanted to do the same for her.

He came up behind Rita, ready to speak.

“One other thing, Pernel,” Rita cut Will off before he opened his mouth.

“What?”

“Next time you come by, have the common courtesy to call first and don’t bother trying to let yourself in with your keys. I will have had all the locks changed.”

Pernel did not look back.

“Yes!” Will jerked his fisted hand back like his team had just scored big-time.

“Don’t let the door hit your padded behind on the way out, you hear, sugar?” Jillie called out.

The door slammed shut, and suddenly a deathly silence fell over the room. Rita had sent her worries packing—if only for the short haul. Will, on the other hand, had not yet even made full eye contact with his troubles.

“Isn’t anyone going to offer to get me a chair?” The tip of a cane tapped on the dirty floor. “Or do I have to do everything for myself?”

“Mother, I promise you, no one here wants you to do everything. In fact, I’d lay odds no one here wants you to do anything…” He pulled the best of the wooden chairs out from the table and took her arm, firmly at first, then backing off until he scarcely touched more than her sleeve. When had Mama’s bones started to feel as fragile as bird wings? He settled her into the chair, then bent low to plant a kiss on her cool, perfectly rouged cheek. “No one wants you to do anything but sit down, rest your feet, and have a nice glass of cold tea.”

“Nice save,” Rita murmured behind his back as she hurried around to grab up the pitcher of once-strong tea now diluted by melted ice. “Sweet tea, Miss Peggy?”

“I don’t dare, sugar. I have my social calls to make this afternoon and at my age if I drink too much tea I’m likely to leave a trail of piddle up and down the finest walkways of Hellon. And God spare us from the consequences if I’d have to sneeze!”

“Mama!” Jillie shut her eyes.

Will laughed.

Rita clunked the pitcher down so hard the table wobbled.

“Well, that’s the way of things. Why act prissified about it?” She laid her purse in her lap and folded her hands. “I am officially too old to mince words and too highly placed in the community for anyone to tell me to straighten up and act better.”

Will took the seat next to hers and motioned for Rita to join them. “And what do your
‘ladies’
have to say about this new attitude?”

“They have decided…”

Rita sat on the very edge of her chair.

“To find it charming.”

“Well, of course they do.” Rita brushed some dark red crumbs off the white tablecloth. “I wish I had your poise, Miss Peggy. I’m afraid I’m something of a charm-school dropout.”

“Well, I can’t hold that against you, sweetheart.” She patted Rita’s hand, but her gaze swept over her two children. “Look at the company you keep.”

If the insult got under Jillie’s pale, polished skin, she did not let it show. “Will’s here on busi
ness, Mother. He isn’t keeping company with Rita.”

“Then he’s a bigger fool than even I thought he was.”

“What? You
want
me to keep company with Rita?” He didn’t realize until it went tumbling out of his mouth how harsh that must have sounded. “Whatever you want to say, Mother, just come out with it.”

“I will. Leave Rita alone. Her life here is hard enough without the likes of a careless gust of wind like you blowing through.” She slapped her hand flat on the unsteady table. “She’s too nice to say it to you, but I don’t have that problem.”

“Mama, I don’t see that being any of your business. And since I’m too big to whup and too damn cute to holler at, you better just spare the rod and save your breath.”

Finally, somebody on her side! Rita plunged her hands into the lukewarm, soapy water and sighed. Who’d have thought that the feisty old gal, who at this very minute had both her children’s undivided attention as they helped her back to her car, would become the voice of reason in all this?

Merciful heavens! She pulled one of the heavy gray-white lunch plates out of the water to scrape at a stubborn bit of pimento with her fingernail. Miss Peggy, the voice of reason? When had her life gotten
that
far off kilter?

She’d tried so hard for so long to keep every
thing in balance. Then one day she surrendered to a totally irrational flash of empathy for a man who swore he needed to help her, and what had it gotten her? A seemingly endless parade of folks intent on telling her what to do, when to do it, and even whom to do it with.

Or was that whom
not
to do it with? Either way the person every buttinski had in mind remained the same—Wild Billy.

Just thinking the man’s name gave her goose pimples. Even to imagine that she had some kind of choice over whether or not the two of them did or did not do…well, anything, made her heart rate kick up. She took a deep breath to quiet it.

“To do it or not to do it, that is the question,” she joked to her blurred reflection in the plate. As soon as the pitiful paraphrase left her lips she pressed them shut. Standing so still she swore she could feel the moist lemon-soap-scented air sinking into her blazing cheeks, she waited and listened.

A muffled round of good-byes carried in from the next room.

A bead of sweat trickled down the back of her neck, and she sighed. No chance of a smart-mouth Jillie or an incorrigible Will listening in and misinterpreting that whole “do it or not” thing. She’d meant do the work, not do
it
in the giant orgasmic break-the-bed-and-make-me-forget-my-manners way, of course but…