The Man She Married (2 page)

It had been a lousy morning. Maizie hated fighting with Clay, but sometimes it felt like a black mood hijacked her brain. And when that happened, dealing with it was worse than getting rid of a bad case of fleas.

Maizie was doing some deep breathing exercises in the back room of the Boudoir, getting ready to put on her happy face, when she heard a screech followed by a crash. Then someone growled, “Let’s go outside and settle this.” That was something you’d hear at the Honky-Tonk Inn, not at Miss Scarlett’s.

Enough was enough. Damn it all! Maizie threw her half-eaten Godiva bar in the cabinet and stomped out into the shop. A quick look revealed there wasn’t much to worry about. The combatants were two middle-aged women armed with nothing more lethal than their razor-sharp tongues. Her employees, PJ and Bambi, stood by helplessly.

“What in the Sam Hill do you two think you’re doing?” Maizie demanded, slamming her hands on her hips for emphasis. She had at least a seven-inch height
advantage on both women and she wasn’t afraid to use it. “This isn’t a junior high cafeteria.”

Sue Belle Pennington and Lucy Albright had been mortal enemies since cheerleading tryouts in the eighth grade. Add the unfortunate fact that neither had the sense God gave a turnip—and voilà—they were an incident waiting to happen.

Maizie tapped her toe. If they weren’t going to behave they could get out of
her
store. “I’m waiting for an explanation, and it had better be good.”

“She, she…” Sue Belle pointed a bony finger at her archenemy. “She thinks she’s smart enough to run the Girl Scout cookie sale. God knows she came out of the shallow end of the gene pool.” The commentary was bad enough, but her wicked-witch cackle was the icing on the cake.

Lucy lunged for Sue Belle, ready to draw blood, but Maizie grabbed her in midflight.

“You’re having a catfight, in
my
store, over who’s going to be the
cookie mama?
” Maizie would’ve slammed their heads together if she’d thought it would do any good.

Sue Belle raised her hand in preparation for a rude gesture, but obviously reconsidered when Maizie shot her a lethal glare.

Lucy, however, didn’t know when to quit. “Her mama stole the Brownie money when we were in third grade. And everyone knows the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She accompanied her snarky remark with a smirk.

Oops! The ass whoopin’ was about to commence.

“Grab Sue Belle,” Maizie yelled to PJ, praying that
her assistant manager would be able to restrain the enraged woman. Considering Sue Belle outweighed PJ by at least seventy-five pounds there wasn’t much hope of that.

“Call my brother-in-law.” Maizie tossed the cordless phone to Bambi, her after-school clerk. “Tell him to send someone over immediately.”

Zack Maynard, Liza’s husband, was the county sheriff. Sometimes it was handy to have a relative with a badge.

“Stop it right this minute!” Maizie screamed. Lordy, she hadn’t yelled that loud since her own cheerleading days. But it worked. Everyone in the shop went stock-still.

“Sit down. I will not tolerate a brawl in my store.”

Lucy sputtered and Sue Belle straightened her blouse where PJ had latched on to her arm. Although the combatants looked as if they’d rather have tea with Satan, they reluctantly complied, settling on opposite ends of the brocade Victorian fainting couch near the change rooms. The cease-fire, however, didn’t stop them from shooting baleful looks at each other.

“The dispatcher said someone would be here soon. But not to worry, the doughnut shop’s not too far away.” Bambi punctuated her report with a typical teenage giggle.

From her lips to God’s ears.

Ten minutes later Deputy Bubba Watson strolled in, a trail of white powder dribbled down his uniform, and it wasn’t cocaine. The poor man wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, but he was the law. And if he could scare the bejeezus out of the nitwits, everything would be fine.

“What’s this I hear about a fight?” he drawled, snapping his suspenders in unison with the popping of his gum.

Maizie indicated the two women. “There they are.”

“Whatcha gals up to?” Bubba asked. His interrogation techniques weren’t exactly FBI approved.

Sue Belle started to speak, but Lucy interrupted. “She wants to—”

Not to be outdone, Sue Belle launched into her own spiel.

“That’s it! Bubba, get them out of here before I do something I’ll regret,” Maizie demanded. She turned to Lucy and Sue Belle. “You two are permanently banned from the Boudoir. Do not darken this door again. Do you hear me? Never ever come in here again.”

“Aw, Maizie. Don’t be that way,” Sue Belle wailed.

She was on the verge of tears, but that was too darned bad.

“Yeah.” Lucy never had been able to keep her mouth shut. “If we can’t shop at the Boudoir, we’ll have to drive to Atlanta to find decent stuff. You can’t really mean it.”

“Oh, I do. Believe me.”

Lucy’s next words sealed her fate. “I’ll sue you. Sure as shootin’ I will.”

Maizie managed to suppress a belly laugh. “Go ahead. My lawyer’s a lot meaner than yours.”

Cousin Kenni’s husband, Win, was a former member of the D.C. legal scene. He was also Magnolia Bluff’s newest and finest attorney and even though he specialized in criminal actions, he was perfectly capable of handling himself in civil court. That man could jump into a pool of sharks and come out without a scratch.

“Bring it on, baby.” Maizie waved her fingers in the universal sign for “come and get it.”

Bubba might’ve been a little slow, but even he recognized a good exit line. “Okay, ladies, let’s go.” He indicated the door. “One at a time, please.” He gave Maizie a conspiratorial wink and a piece of advice before he escorted the offenders out. “Be good, now, ya hear?”

Maizie plopped on the couch, suddenly aware that her knees were knocking. “I can’t wait to tell Clay. He won’t believe this.”

“Such dimwits.” PJ shook her head in disgust. “Can’t you just picture them rolling around on the floor and yankin’ each other’s hair out?”

PJ had been working for Maizie since she graduated from high school. When she wasn’t helping run the boutique she was the happily married mother of two little mop-heads. A chubby version of Rachael Ray with curly blond hair and Hershey-brown eyes, PJ was as cute as a speckled pup. Plus, she had a ready smile, a sharp wit and the common sense of Solomon.

“On that note I think we deserve some chocolate.” Maizie strolled to the back room and returned with a box of Belgian candy.

“Eat up,” she said. “To heck with the calories.” Maizie saved her “good stuff” for emergencies and celebrations, and this situation definitely qualified.

T
HE REMAINDER OF THE
afternoon went by without incident. It was a typical Friday at the Boudoir—purchases were made, returns were processed and customers were accommodated.

The gold-leafed sign on the window read Miss Scarlett’s Boudoir, and if the inventory was any indication, Miss Scarlett had had herself a grand old time. It was a treasure trove of lace pillows, frothy undergarments and feminine apparel. Even the bell above the door sounded girly.

It was kitschy, it was fun and it had something for everyone. The blue-hairs loved the bath and beauty selection and the teens were hot for the trendy collection of jeans. Best of all, Maizie and PJ were known throughout the area for the exclusive line of French cosmetics they applied with a flourish. If you were in the market for a makeover, the Boudoir was definitely the place to go.

Under normal circumstances the boutique was a fantastic place to work, but this day had been a doozey and Maizie was dead on her feet.

“PJ, would you close the shop today?” she asked. “I need to run by the grocery store. We’re having a family football party at my house tomorrow.”

“No problem. It’s almost six o’clock anyway.”

“I won’t be in tomorrow. Bambi and Jerry Sue will be here to help you.”

“Gotcha. Don’t worry about a thing.”

M
AIZIE PULLED INTO THE
Piggly Wiggly parking lot. She was hoping to run in and out quickly but the chances of that happening in Magnolia Bluffs—where everyone knew everyone else’s business and loved to discuss it—were slim.

Before Maizie could make it to the cash register, Laverne Hightower, the town’s rumor maven, had
managed to share a play-by-play of her gallbladder attack. Not to be outdone, Shirley Smith had launched into a full rundown on her daughter’s wedding preparations. And
everyone
wanted to talk about the commotion at the Boudoir. The next time Maizie needed food she’d go to the big box store out on the bypass.

By the time the groceries were bought, the errands were run and the day was over, she was ready to pull her hair out. No doubt about it—today had been one of
those
days.

Maizie breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled up to the detached garage behind her rambling white turn-of-the-century bungalow. Her home was typically Southern with green shutters, a wraparound veranda and a trellis of honeysuckle.

When things got too hectic, Maizie loved to sit on the porch swing with a frosty glass of sweet tea and watch the world go by. It was her way of sweeping out the mental cobwebs. However that was an indulgence for another day.

“Clay!” Maizie called as she dropped her purse and a bag of canned goods on the kitchen table. “I need some help.”

The television was blaring in the family room, and hubby dear was missing in action.

“Clay, where are you?” Maizie was perfectly capable of carrying in the rest of the food, but it was the principle of the thing.

“Clayton!”

That apparently got his attention. “What do you need, Babes?” he answered, not bothering to move away from the television.

“I want some help with the groceries.”

“Can you wait a minute? I’m watching something.”

Maizie stomped into the family room to see what was so important.
Bass fishing?
Clay wasn’t waiting for a touchdown to be scored or a home run to be hit. No—he was sitting in his favorite leather chair with his feet propped on the ottoman, watching some guy in an expensive boat troll for
fish.

Maizie was normally even-tempered—except when she was in a snit, and she didn’t really count that—but she grabbed the remote, hit the Off button and marched out. Making a grand exit was a talent she’d learned at her mama’s knee, and she happened to be darned good at it.

C
RAP
. C
LAY KNEW HE
was in a mess of trouble, again. What had he done this time? All he’d wanted to do was see if Skeeter Jackson would win the tournament and the hundred-thousand-dollar prize. He could have used that kind of cash himself. It would go a long way toward solving at least one of his problems.

But immersing himself in that pipe dream had only irritated his sweetie, so clearly Clay had to make amends. Should he go with the “I’m so sorry, I’m an insensitive jerk” defense? That usually worked, especially if he followed up with some heavy necking—and a promise to do the dishes, take out the trash, clean the bathroom, yada, yada, yada.

“I’m sorry.” Clay was honestly remorseful. He hated upsetting Maizie.

“Why don’t you sit down and let me get you a Coke,” he suggested. Without waiting for an answer he retrieved a soft drink and handed it to her.

Clay was about to give himself a big pat on the back. Then he saw his wife’s face. Something was drastically wrong, and it had nothing to do with bringing in the groceries.

“Clay.” Maizie sat at the pine trestle table, rubbing the cold can against her face. “Is this all we have to look forward to?”

That question scared Clay silly. When your wife got philosophical, all hell was about to break loose.

It was a beautiful October Saturday, the leaves had changed, the air was crisp, and the University of Georgia was in the hunt for a national football title. Everyone in town was infected by gridiron fever and the Walkers were usually no exception. Back in the dark ages, Maizie had been a UGA cheerleader and Clay had been a star linebacker on the team. Needless to say, they were huge fans.

Regardless of the hoopla, Maizie was having a hard time getting into the “rah rah” mood. In fact, she was in more of a “kick ’em in the knee” frame of mind. On that depressing thought she answered the annoying ring of the phone, hoping it was a telemarketer, not someone she’d actually have to talk to.

“What’s wrong?” Only her twin would pick up on trouble from a simple hello.

“Nothing. I’m just feeling out of sorts.” Maizie normally shared everything with her sister, but this situation felt different.

“Is Hannah okay?”

Maizie chuckled, thinking about her flower child.
“She’s fine, but her dad almost flipped when she told him she was considering majoring in pottery.”

Maizie was inclined to be a bit zany. Liza, on the other hand, was a lawyer and practical to the max, so she probably didn’t understand the pottery thing, either.

“Well, uh.” Liza paused. “I didn’t know they offered that major at Emory.”

“It was news to me, too,” Maizie said. “That’s why I decided to worry about it later. Next week she’ll have changed her mind again.”

A fan of
Gone With the Wind,
Maizie had long ago adopted Scarlett’s fiddle-dee-dee attitude, and so far it had worked perfectly. “What time are you guys coming over?” She could segue at the drop of a hat.

“The game starts at six, so how does five or five-thirty sound?”

“That works. Kenni and Win won’t be here until around seven. He has to meet with a client.”

“The only thing they’ll miss is the pregame hype. What do you want me to bring?” Liza asked.

A casual observer might assume Liza had forgotten about her sister’s funk, but Maizie knew better.

“See you soon,” Liza said. “Oh, by the way, don’t get smug. We’re going to have a little chat when I get there.”

Darn, that girl was like a dog with a juicy bone. No wonder she was an attorney.

T
HE GUYS WERE BONDING
over the pregame show and pigging out on chips and salsa. That allowed Liza carte blanche to start the inquisition. Before she pulled out the thumb screws, though, she grabbed two bottles of
Heineken from the fridge and a couple of frosty mugs from the freezer.

“Sit.” Liza handed Maizie a beer as a peace offering. “Now spill your guts.”

Maizie was a smart girl so she could tell when it was time to surrender. Liza might be no bigger than gnat’s eyelash, but she could be real mean. Well, maybe determined would be a better description, but whatever—Liza almost always got her way.

Mama said their stubborn streak was the only thing the twins shared. Liza was petite and dark while Maizie looked more like a Viking goddess. They were so different it was sometimes hard to believe they’d actually shared a womb.

Maizie reluctantly sat down. “I honestly don’t know what my problem is, I wish I did. At first I thought it was empty-nest syndrome, but lately I’ve been wondering if it’s the twenty-two-year itch.” She shrugged. “All I know is that I’m feelin’ a bit blue.” Maizie didn’t mention her stale love life. Even for a twin that was too much information.

“Oh, honey. You need something to cheer you up. You’re simply having a hormonal crisis.” Liza raised a finger in her favorite “aha” signal. “I have an idea. We’ll talk Kenni into going with us to Lennox Square for a girls’ day out. We can rummage through Nordstrom’s shoe section and then indulge in some decadent chocolate. Think about it, imported chocolate and sexy sandals. What more could you want?”

Maizie couldn’t resist a grin. “Are we talking fattening and expensive?”

“Absolutely.” Liza held up her hand for a high five.

Although Maizie wasn’t sure a spending spree would do the trick, she was willing to try. Pessimism was new and rather unwelcome territory.

The party was a smashing success, partially because of the company, but equally because UGA won the Southeastern Conference championship. The next step was to wait for the football bowl selections to see if UGA would be fighting to be number one in the nation. For die-hard college football fans that was a huge deal.

The kitchen was clean, the family room had been tidied and the company had gone. Clay was on a football high and Maizie was feeling, well, to put it delicately, a bit amorous. Or to be blunt, she was ready to fool around.

A long bath, a flute of bubbly, a sexy teddy and a spray of perfume later, she was hot to trot. But was Clay?

“Honey, are you ready for bed?” Maizie channeled her inner seductress as she struck a pose in the door.

No response.

“Clayton. Did you hear me?”

When he didn’t respond Maizie decided it was time for more action and less talk. She walked slowly over to the couch and seductively nibbled on the back of his neck.

“Let me catch the rest of the news and I’ll be right with you,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“What?” Maizie couldn’t believe she’d been rebuffed. The moron would rather watch the weather than make love? If that didn’t beat all! She counted to ten and decided to give him one more chance.

All Southern belles had an arsenal of tricks, and Maizie was no exception. She treated her oblivious
husband to a little swish, a more pronounced sashay and the coup de grace, a naughty hip grind, all done right in front of him for maximum effect.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing! This was war. Clay didn’t know it yet, but he would live to rue this day.

Maizie stalked to the bedroom and pulled on an oversize Atlanta Braves T-shirt and a pair of faded boxer shorts. To hell with sexy.

Then she had a brilliant idea. She’d make Clay pea-green jealous. Not that she’d ever do anything more than flirt, of course.

Clay was the only man for her, but a little flirtation couldn’t hurt. All she had to do was show him that other men found her attractive. It was a surefire way to jump start the passion.

It sounded simple, but could she really pull it off? Magnolia Bluff’s selection of single, desirable men was limited. Who was she kidding? It was almost nonexistent. Kenni and Liza had managed to find a couple of supersexy guys, but Zack and Win were imports. The pickin’s were slim when it came to the home-grown product.

So, where could she find a guy, preferably someone under sixty who still had his teeth? This would take some thought, but she’d never shied away from a challenge.

Once that was decided, Maizie padded to the kitchen for a snack. Clay was still glued to the TV in the family room. What she really wanted to do was to curl up in his lap and run her fingers through his hair, but that wasn’t on the agenda, not after the last rejection. They had to get some zing back in their life, and she knew just how to do it.

Pigging out on a glass of cold milk and a chocolate cookie seemed a good strategy to get some perspective. Unfortunately, the sugar rush gave way to a smidgen of doubt.

Was this jealousy scheme a flash of brilliance or was it one of the silliest ideas she’d ever dreamed up? Only time would tell.

C
LAY TRIED TO IGNORE
his sense of impending disaster, but the banging and muttering in the kitchen didn’t help. Once again, he’d made Maizie mad and that honestly hadn’t been his intention.

The party had been sheer hell. It had taken every ounce of energy Clay had to smile and prattle on about football and national championships. Especially since he hadn’t slept more than three hours a night for the past two weeks.

Every time he closed his eyes all he could envision was the bankruptcy court and what would happen to their employees if they went under. He should come clean with Maizie. They’d always shared everything, but he and his partner had made such stupid, naive mistakes, he was embarrassed to tell her.

It would all work out. It had to. God, he was exhausted. That was the last thought Clay had before he fell asleep in his chair.