Waking Up in Dixie (33 page)

The blasted bell rang again. “Coming,” he called into the intercom, then left the study.

There was no mistaking the silhouette in the leaded-glass front door. It was female.

Here we go again.

Howe opened the door to find Cassie Benefield, the mother
of one of Patti’s friends, standing there dressed to kill in deep cleavage and spiked heels, holding a warm chicken casserole with her name and phone number etched into the tinfoil on top. “Hi, Howe. With Elizabeth gone, I thought you might need something to eat.”

“Thanks, Cassie,” he said, accepting the casserole, but not asking her in. “That’s very nice of you. I’ll tell her. I know she’ll appreciate your looking after me.”

Cassie looked past him to the empty house. “Must be awfully lonely in this big old place all by yourself, with Patti in Europe with your mama.” She placed a hand suggestively on his chest. “Why don’t you let me come in and heat that up for you?” In case he hadn’t gotten the message, she added a sultry, “I’m really good at heating things up.”

Some friend, Howe thought, but managed to keep from saying it. “Gee, I appreciate that, but I’ve already eaten.” It was a lie, but he had no choice. He’d already fended off a harem’s worth of Elizabeth’s acquaintances who had brought him food and offered to keep him company, and there was no doubt as to what kind of company they meant.

He’d talked the whole situation over with Father Jim, who’d absolved him of the lies, but they still bothered Howe. Probably because he could now lie so easily and convincingly, making him wonder if he was slipping back into the way he’d been before.

Confronted with yet another predatory female, he started to close the door. “I’ll tell Elizabeth you came by,” he repeated. “Thanks.” For nothing.

Nonplussed, Cassie waved to him with shiny red talons. “Call if you get lonely. My number’s on the tinfoil.”

“You betcha.” Howe was lonely, all right, but for Elizabeth, not some desperate housewife. The truth was, he was miserable without his wife, which proved his old world had indeed turned upside down.

The trouble with having emotions was that they had him. Yes, the highs were high, but the lows—and the loneliness—were lower than low. And he was awfully lonely. And horny.

Time for another session on the treadmill. If that didn’t calm things down, he’d work with free weights. The good news was, he was looking really good. The bad news was, Elizabeth wasn’t there to see it.

Howe wondered if she was lonely without him, or just relieved.

He carried the casserole back to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, which was still full of casseroles the others had brought, some of them getting moldy. Even the chest freezer was full.

He needed to clean the refrigerator out, but he’d been so busy supervising the renovations and working in his study that he hadn’t had the time.

He had to find a housekeeper. That was all there was to it. Somebody mature and meticulous who could take phone messages and ward off female visitors. Maybe an agency in Atlanta could send somebody reliable.

He took out a bowl and spooned the warm chicken and broccoli casserole into it, then got a beer and headed back to his study. If he didn’t get more studying done, he’d never make the
deadline he’d set for himself, and he definitely didn’t want to have to go through all this again.

He’d just gotten settled when the phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, but it wasn’t Elizabeth. Damn. “Hello?”

“May I please speak to Elizabeth?” a woman’s voice asked.

Why did he feel compelled to answer? He knew better. “I’m sorry, she’s not in. May I take a message?”

“Gosh, I really needed to talk to her. This is her friend Louise from church. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

Howe gave the woman an F for originality. The whole town knew Elizabeth was gone, and it was obvious from the femme fatales circling overhead that nobody was buying the spa story. “I’m sorry, she didn’t say when she’d be back.” Or if she’d be back. “I’d be happy to take a message.”

“I . . .” The woman paused for effect. “I just really need to talk to somebody, and she’s always been so helpful. And discreet.”

Howe didn’t volunteer to substitute, just started counting to see how it long it took for what came next.

He’d only reached five when she asked, “Do you think it would be okay if I talked to you, just a little? I’d really appreciate it.”

Bingo. “I’m afraid you caught me in the middle of something. I—”

“Oh, it won’t take long. And really, I could use a man’s perspective. It’s about my husband. I think he’s cheating on me, but if I ask him, and he isn’t, he may never forgive me.”

No originality whatsoever.

Howe had tried dodging the subject with some of the other women who’d called him with the same ruse, but it had only
drawn things out, so he took the bull by the horns. “The question is, what do you plan to do after you ask him?” he said. “If he
is
cheating, he’s been lying to you, and he’ll probably just deny it. If he says he’s not, how will you know it’s the truth? Frankly, I think you should go to a counselor and figure out what you really want out of the marriage, either way. Ellis Jackson is a good one. But that’s just my opinion.”

Clearly not what she’d been expecting. “Oh.”

“I’ll tell Elizabeth you called.” Not. “Gotta go.”

Dodged that bullet, one more time.

Howe wondered how long it was going to take before these women realized he wasn’t back on the market.

The next day at Rotary Club, Howe was cornered by Louise’s husband Mitch and another good old boy, Sam, whose wife had sought Howe’s “advice.”

“Howe, old buddy,” Mitch grumbled, “what the hell you been doin’ talking to my wife?”

“And mine,” Sam challenged.

“And where in hell do you get off tellin’ her we need to go to some
counselor
?” Mitch finished.

“Yeah,” his buddy echoed.

“Well,” Howe said evenly, “I didn’t call them. They called me. Seems Elizabeth is the Dear Abby of Whittington, but with her gone, I ended up as stand-in.” He smiled as if the two men had just paid him a compliment, then leaned closer to them to confide, “Maybe y’all ought to pay more attention to your wives, and less to your girlfriends. Of course, I didn’t mention the girlfriends to your wives. Didn’t want to upset them. But if I were
you, I’d go to the counselor, and I’d participate. Maybe then your wives will stop calling me.”

“Oh, right,” Sam scoffed. “Everybody in town knows Elizabeth left you, and why.”

That stung, but Howe managed to hang on to his smile. “Actually, that’s not accurate. I gave her a nice, long retreat to rest and pamper herself. God knows, she earned it, looking after me for all these months.” He straightened. “And God also knows, I’ve got plenty to make up to Elizabeth for, so I’m doing my best to be the good man she deserves.” He clapped Mitch on the back. “I’m living proof that nobody’s beyond redemption. If I can reform, so can y’all.” He grinned. “Take it from me, there’s something to be said for being able to face yourself in the mirror.”

“Bull,” Mitch said. “You talk to my wife again, and I’m comin’ after you.”

Howe’s smile congealed. “You talk to me like that again, and I’m calling your loans.”

Mitch blanched. Like most people in the current economy, both he and Sam had made more than a few late payments, which was grounds for foreclosure.

Howe considered it divine providence that he held the paper on every reprobate in the county, and he wouldn’t shrink from using that to accomplish good. His family had suffered enough from Howe’s past sins. He had no intention of letting some blowhard like Mitch or Sam embarrass them further.

“You, too, Sam,” Howe warned.

Sam sneered. “Ah. There’s the old Howe we all know.”

On the way home, Howe decided to put a stop to all the
female attention. So he showed up, unannounced, at the Women’s Club the next day. The president—plump, graying Susan Connor—glided over with a look of pleased surprise. “Howe, it’s wonderful to see you. How well you look.” As the others looked on, whispering among themselves, she took his arm, openly admiring his flat stomach and newly thickened biceps. “Just delicious.” After a glance at his ass, she focused on his face. “There must be some mix-up, though. I don’t have you scheduled to speak today.”

“Actually, I’d just like to make a brief announcement, if there’s room on your agenda,” he said, flashing his old charm. He scanned the women present, noting that almost all of the ones who’d called or come to him were there. One even blew him a kiss. Lord. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

“I don’t see why not. Is it something to do with the bank?”

“Nope.” He diverted the conversation with, “How are those three grandsons of yours? Elizabeth tells me they’re all playing football now.”

The grandparent diversion worked every time. Susan’s face lit up. “Can you believe it? Seems they were just babies, and now they’re in the annual football parade. They’re so cute in their little uniforms. But I can’t say so, of course. They want to be
tough.
”

“Do you have any photos?” Howe said. “I’d love to see them.”

“Do I ever. Right here in my bag.” She reached into her bag on the nearby head table, then produced a two-inch-thick stack of pictures.

Grateful for a safe diversion, Howe oohed and aahed until it was time to start, and he found a seat near the back of the room.

After the previous minutes and treasurer’s report, Susan motioned her gavel in Howe’s direction. “Before we move on to old business, we have a request from a very good friend of the Women’s Club. Howe Whittington would like to make a brief announcement.”

All eyes turned his way as the women pivoted in their chairs.

Howe stood. He’d planned exactly what he meant to say, and he wanted to get it right. “First, thank you for allowing me to intrude on your meeting. Since the Women’s Club is the heartbeat of Whittington, I figured this was the best place to reach most of you lovely ladies.” He made bold eye contact with the ones who’d come on to him. “First, I’d like to thank those of you who’ve brought me food while Elizabeth is on vacation. It’s all wonderful, and I really appreciate it. But my refrigerator and freezer are full, so you can all stand down when it comes to that. I have enough to last me for the next six months.”

A chuckle rippled through the audience.

“Second, I have to eat some crow, here.” He glanced down. “For a long time, I was nobody’s idea of a model citizen, and an even worse husband to my devoted wife Elizabeth. But now that God has given me another chance at life, I plan to do everything I can to make it up to her.”

Half the audience made a dreamy “awww” face, while the rest reacted with visible consternation.

“So,” he went on, “though I’m flattered that some of you have felt comfortable calling me and coming by to visit, I’d be a lot more comfortable if you didn’t anymore. I’d hate for anybody to get the wrong idea, especially Elizabeth.” He faced them squarely.
“No matter what you might hear or think, I love my wife, and I don’t ever want her to be worried on my account again. Ever.”

The spurned exhaled as one in exasperation, while the rest of the women applauded.

Susan grasped her gavel to her bosom. “God bless you, Howe. Would that all our husbands would be so thoughtful.”

Howe bowed. “Thank you for your time and attention.” Then he escaped before anybody could corner him, pleased with how well things had gone.

But by the time he got home, an emotional rebound had sent his spirits plummeting. The house—and his life—seemed so empty without Elizabeth that he broke down and called her for the first time since she’d left.

When she answered, he hardly gave her space to say hello before launching into, “I know I said I’d give you time to think, but I really need to talk to you.”

“You should have talked to me before I came up here,” she snapped. “I found out this was your
love nest
from the locksmith, a fact that everybody in this town was aware of but me.”

“Damn.” He should have. She was perfectly justified in being angry. “I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid you wouldn’t accept the place if I did.”

“So you just didn’t tell me. How convenient.” Her pause bristled with hostility. “Not telling the truth is the same as lying, Howe. I’ve had a crawful of that, and I won’t take it anymore. If you want a relationship with me, you have to tell me the truth, even when it’s messy.”

“I will.” Why hadn’t he just told her? It was his old self who’d
used that place, not the man he was now. “I swear. From now on, it’s the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. That’s why I called you. Things have been pretty . . .
messy
around here since you left.”

Her tone shifted. “How, messy? Dirty house, messy, or trouble, messy?”

“Both, but the house, I can deal with.” He owed her the truth. “The rest . . . Nobody bought the spa story, so a lot of your so-called friends have been showing up on the doorstep with casseroles, offering to keep me company.”

To his amazement, Elizabeth laughed. “Who? Tell.”

It certainly wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. He tucked his chin, offended that she wasn’t the least bit threatened. “Wouldn’t you rather know if I was tempted?”