Nesting in North Carolina

by Kirsten Osbourne

  “You didn’t tell my mother that Becca only married me for my money? That she told Dr. Lachele she wanted a rich man?”

  Harper looked horrified. “O-of course not! Becca told me her grandmother joked t-to Dr. Lachele about a r-rich man. Becca said sh-she’d prefer a poor w-widower with k-kids. She loves kids, and y-you can see for yourself how a-awkward she is having money n-now. She’s never even d-driven that car you b-bought her! I told L-Lavinia that!”

  Of course, Becca loved kids. She’d told him as much when they’d visited Wolf Creek together, and she’d talked about being the only one of her cousins who hadn’t had a child yet. Which was why she’d been so eager to tell him her “surprise.” That she was pregnant.

  He was more than a dummy, Archer thought miserably.

  He was a straight-up idiot.

  Ten

  Becca had been home for three days, but it felt like an eternity since she’d seen Archer. She’d rotated between tears and anger, and then complete and utter happiness after she’d left her appointment with her doctor that confirmed Granny Jones’s prediction. She was thirteen weeks pregnant. Then, she was back to tears again.

  Becca’s parents had left for work, and only her Granny Jones was home to deal with Becca’s emotional rollercoaster.

  “You need to snap out of it, missy,” her grandma scolded when Becca brought her a cup of tea out on to the front porch. “That doctor of yours said your blood pressure’s too high. Think of that baby you’re carrying, not your dunderheaded husband.” Granny gummed on her dentures and scowled. “I’d like to take a switch to that boy.”

  Becca sank down on the porch swing across from Granny Jones. Tears threatened again. “I can’t help it,” she told her grandma miserably. “I miss him so much. I thought for sure he’d have at least called.”

  “Well, if you love him so gol-danged much, why’d you leave?”

  “You didn’t see the look on his face. When Lavinia convinced him I’d only wanted a husband for his money . . . it was like his world had come to an end.”

  “It didn’t though, now did it? All of this was just a big, hairy mistake.”

  Becca sniffled. Her nose was so red and sore from countless tissues, she knew she must look horrible. “It was a mistake. But to have him not believe me. I’ve done nothing but try to be a good wife for Archer since I said, ‘I do.’ I even cut my hair for him, changed my whole personality, and he never even said anything.”

  “That’s right.” Granny Jones thumped her cane. “You’re not in the wrong here, unless it’s for not punching that Lavinia in her meddlin’ nose before she could cause all this mess.”

  “Why does she hate me so much?”

  Granny pulled her paisley shawl closer around her shoulders. The weather was beautiful today, temperatures hovering in the low seventies, with buds about to burst on the trees, but her old bones felt cold no matter how hot it got.

  “If I had to make a guess, I’d say because you remind her of herself.”

  Becca recoiled, looking at her grandma with horror. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Granny chuckled. “I’m just saying she acts like a woman who doesn’t know how to handle money. Except where you feel guilty about it, she went overboard trying to pretend she was born into that kind of life. Too much makeup, too much jewelry, treatin’ people poorly . . . she didn’t grow up rich. I’ll bet you dollars to donuts that she was raised on means just as modest as yours.”

  Granny looked thoughtful for a moment. “I wonder what her maiden name is. I thought the first time I saw her that she had the look of the Treacher family, from over near Tom Town. Go fetch me one of your mama’s high school yearbooks and my reading spectacles.”

  Shaking her head at her grandma’s steel-trap memory when she had a hard time recalling what she had for breakfast the day before, Becca did as she was asked.

  “I knew it!” Granny Jones crowed a few minutes later, pushing her reading glasses up on her nose. She pointed one crooked finger at a black and white picture of a smiling girl with braces and Farrah Fawcett hair. “Luellen Treacher.”

  It was Lavinia.

  “Luellen took up with a rich old man, Jeremiah Sutton, just out of high school,” Granny said. “I remember her now, because your granddad and I used to go to church with the Treacher family over at the Del Rio Baptist for a while. There was some talk about that May-December marriage, let me tell you, but Luellen’s mama insisted it was a love match. I heard he passed on a few years later, but I never did hear what happened to Luellen after that.”

  Becca’s compassionate heart softened a little toward her mother-in-law. What if she really had loved her first husband even though he’d been much older? And how difficult it must’ve been to get along without him at only twenty-one or twenty-two years old. She’d only been married to Archer less than three months, but she didn’t know what she’d do if he died and left her alone.

  “That doesn’t make her behavior any less acceptable,” Becca finally said. “But maybe more understandable.”

  “So? What are you gonna do, girlie?” Granny Jones looked at her hard. “Are you gonna sit here and mope while your Prince Not-So-Charming paces in his castle and broods worse than an ornery laying hen? Or are you going to go give him heck?”

  The thought of facing Archer was painful, but her granny was right. She was doing neither of them any good by sitting here and crying about everything. Except for one thing.

  “I sent the car back. How am I going to get there?”

  “Oh, is that all?” Granny Jones waved her hand and chuckled. “I told your brothers not to bother returning it yet and had your dad park that little toy scooter of yours back behind the shed.”

  She got up and went to her grandma, giving her a careful hug. She was small and frail in her wicker chair, but Granny Jones was still the superglue that held the Jones family together.

  “What would I do without you?” Becca asked, a catch in her throat.

  “Girlie, I have no idea.” Her grandma laughed. “But since I plan on living to a hundred and fifty, the good Lord willing, you’ll probably never have to find out.”

  Archer looked around at his empty shelves and desk. Events had been set in motion now. There was no going back. He winked at Jessica on his way out, and she gave him a tearful, smiling wave.

  He felt a lightness in his chest walking out of the Hayes Investment building that he’d certainly never felt while walking into it.

  His mom was going to flip. His cousin quite possibly might expire in shock. The rest of his family would think he’d lost his mind. Laughing out loud as he opened the beat-up door of his Mercedes, he realized he didn’t care.

  He’d go home, pack a few things, and then he’d be on his way. To what, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to find out alone.

  Becca pulled up in front of the huge stone house, her throat aching with unshed tears and her bladder close to bursting. She’d left Wolf Creek without even packing anything—had just grabbed her car keys off the lopsided wooden key hanger one of her brothers had made years before in a middle school shop class, got into the Mini Cooper, and left.

  Granny Jones had stood at the porch rail to see her off, waiving gaily, giving her a huge grin. She’d promised to tell Becca’s parents what was going on.

  Now, she was home.

  Archer’s car wasn’t in the drive, and she was grateful. She burst into the house, heading for the powder room in the hall. Washing her hands, she hoped Archer wouldn’t be home for a while. She had to figure out what to tell him.

  When she stepped out into the hall, the front door was just opening.

  It was Lavinia.

  Becca froze, but when Lavinia came through the doorway, she had to do a doubletake. The woman was completely makeup-free, her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, wisps of frosted blond hair sticking out messily every which way. She had on jeans and purple flip-flops, of all things, with a pink t-shirt that said, “Bahama Mama,�
�� and sported a gaudy purple parrot. She looked . . . normal. Like Becca’s mom. Or someone you would see shopping for groceries.

  Lavinia looked around wildly, her eyes widening when she saw Becca. “Oh, thank goodness. You’re here. Where’s Archer?”

  The older woman was pale and shaky, and Becca hurried to grab her arm. “Come into the kitchen and sit down. You don’t look well. I’m sure there are sodas in the fridge.”

  “Is he here? Have you seen him?”

  “Not yet,” Becca said. “I just got here myself. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Lavinia wailed. “I just tried to call him at the office, and that secretary of his said he quit this morning.”

  “He quit?”

  Becca settled her mother-in-law at the kitchen table and went to the refrigerator for a Coke. She started to put the can on the table but remembering that rich people probably didn’t drink their carbonated beverages or anything else out of cans, she stopped and went to the cupboard for a glass.

  “No, no,” Lavinia stopped her. “Coke tastes better out of a can.”

  Becca got a glass of water for herself and sat down across from Lavinia.

  To her utter shock, her mother-in-law burst into tears. “I’ve driven away my son. He’s having a nervous breakdown. An early midlife crisis. He’s going to pack up and move away, sell this house that’s been in the family for generations. I’m never going to see my grandchild. I’m a horrible mother.”

  Becca then found herself in the weird position of trying to comfort the woman who had destroyed her marriage. “Archer loves you. I’m sure he’d never try to cut you out of his life.”

  “But I’ve done nothing but make him try to fit into the place I think he should.”

  “You should have stopped that years ago, Luellen. I tried to tell you.”

  “Jackie! How many times have I told you not to call me that?” Lavinia wiped her tears away quickly, stood up, and spun around. The tall, broad-shouldered housekeeper stood in the doorway like a monolith, her hands planted firmly on her hips and a scowl on her face.

  “Sorry . . . Lavinia.” Jackie didn’t look sorry. She looked fed up. “But you’ve had this little rebellion coming for a long time. You’ve always been so focused on being high-and-mighty Mrs. Hayes that you forgot where you came from.”

  “Don’t you dare bring this up in front of her. I should fire you once and for all.”

  “Actually, I already know,” Becca put in. When Lavinia gave her a stunned, slightly fearful look, Becca went on. “My Granny Jones used to go to church with your family.”

  Lavinia dropped her head in her hands and groaned.

  “See now? No more secrets,” Jackie said smugly. “And you know you can’t fire me. I work for your son. Plus, even you wouldn’t fire your own cousin.”

  Becca felt like she was watching a tennis match. She was getting dizzy. Jackie was Lavinia’s cousin?

  “None of this matters now,” Lavinia cried out miserably. “My son hates me!”

  “He doesn’t.” Jackie’s voice gentled, and she gathered Lavinia up in her arms, hugging her like a child. “You’re a pain in the behind, but your son could never hate you.”

  “She’s right. I don’t hate you, Mom.”

  Archer stood in the doorway, looking happy and healthy and not at all like he was on the verge of a breakdown. He was wearing worn jeans and a long-sleeved black t-shirt, and even though she was accustomed to seeing him in tailored business suits, Becca thought he looked good enough to eat.

  She ached to get up, to run into his arms, and maybe it made her selfish, but she wished Lavinia would go find somewhere else to cry and feel guilty. As if Jackie heard Becca’s silent prayer, she took Lavinia’s arm gently. “Come back to my place and have a cup of coffee. Let these two work things out. You’ve done enough interfering, and you and I haven’t sat down for a good long chat in years.”

  Surprisingly, Lavinia listened to her. She only stopped at the door for a moment. “I’m sorry, you two. I’ve been awful. I’ll try harder.” Still sniffling, she let Jackie lead her out.

  The other woman tossed them a wink and a happy grin. “Did you get that confession on tape?” she asked teasingly. “Because I’m pretty sure you’ll never get her to say that again.”

  As soon as they heard the front door close behind the two women, Archer went to Becca and pulled her into his arms. She clung tightly to his waist, wrapping her arms around him like she’d never let him go.

  “Please, Becca,” he whispered. “I know I’m bound to be a jerk sometimes, but please don’t ever leave me again.”

  “I won’t,” she promised, her face pressed against his chest. She felt him kiss the top of her head and squeezed him harder. “You really are a jerk, though.”

  “I know,” he chuckled. “But I’m going to have a lot of time on my hands to make it up to you.”

  “Did you really quit?” she asked, pulling back to look into his face. She saw no regret there, only a boyish enthusiasm that charmed her.

  “I did.” He let out a full-throated peal of laughter, one that she’d never heard from him before. It pulled a smile out of her that quickly fell away when he continued. “I left my cousin Derek in charge. That irresponsible, spoiled young man has the whole company in his greedy little hands.”

  “No! He’s going to wreck everything you and your father built!”

  “Nope,” Archer grinned. “For the first five years, he reports to one person. All decisions he makes must be run through his Aunt Lavinia for approval. She’ll have an office next to his and a paid position within the company. If he makes it to the end of that five years without quitting, I’ll know he’s got the kind of backbone it takes to run Hayes Investments. It’s a prolonged trial by dragon fire, so to speak.”

  Becca laughed. “You are purely diabolical. You’ve taken care of your greedy cousin and given your mom a major project all at once. But what are you going to do now?”

  Archer’s face softened as he looked down at his beautiful wife. “That’s something we’ll decide together. I was thinking, since I’ve spent so many years building a fortune and making money, it’s time I started spending it.”

  “But you have so much already . . .”

  “We do. But I don’t mean that. Would you be interested in starting a charity? The Jones-Hayes Foundation? I mean, after our baby is born. Unless you just want to be a stay-at-home mom, and that’s totally fine, too. I can’t wait to be a father. Whatever you want. We’ll do it together.”

  “This is a lot to take in,” Becca said slowly, feeling dizzy again. This time it wasn’t from Lavinia and Jackie’s verbal sparring. She was literally feeling dizzy.

  Then, the room took one big lurch under her feet, and she reached out to grab hold of Archer’s shirt to balance herself, but her fingers grasped only air as everything melted into blackness.

  For the first time, Archer got to see what his sweet wife was like when she was irritable. It was fascinating.

  “Stop hovering,” she snapped and then blushed. “I’m sorry, but I seriously feel like I can’t even breathe with you looming over me like that. Sit next to me. And hold my hand, please.”

  “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He grinned.

  Becca knew she was being unreasonable. Archer was just trying to help. But the doctor said she and the baby would both be fine if Becca put her feet up and got some rest for a week or so, taking care to keep her blood pressure where it should be. She hadn’t been eating or sleeping right since she and Archer had their first fight, and it had finally taken a toll on her.

  But now, darn it, she was pregnant, icky-feeling, and stuck in their bed for the next six days. She didn’t want to watch TV, she didn’t want to read, and she didn’t know how she was going to stand it. She had a perfect right to be irritable if she wanted to be.

  Archer held one hand as she’d asked him to but placed the other hand on Becca’s belly. “Did I tell you thank you for my
surprise?” he asked softly.

  “You did,” she assured him. “Four times on our way home from the hospital. Two more before you carried me into the house and up the stairs. I’ve lost count of how many times since then.”

  “Well, get used to it. I’m going to be thanking you for the rest of my life.”

  “As long as you get used to my mood swings. Granny Jones said my mama almost scared my daddy right out of the house all three times she was carrying.”

  Archer gave her a fake shudder, but his eyes twinkled. “That’s okay. If things get bad enough, I’ll just move in with Jackie for a while.”

  “You’ll be living there alone,” Becca said. “Jackie says she’s moving in here to be our nanny. Between her and the baby, I think we’ll still have eighty-five rooms to fill.”

  “Then, we’ll just have to fill them and build an addition.” Archer threaded his fingers through Becca’s and picked up her hand. He kissed her knuckles. “I love you, Rebecca Hayes. When Dr. Lachele matched us up, I didn’t get what I asked for. I got more than I asked for. A wife, a lover, and a partner for life.”

  “I love you, too, Archer Hayes. For better or for worse. Oh, crud,” she added. Her eyes filled with tears that quickly overflowed, and she used her other hand to wipe them away. “Mood swing incoming.”

  He just laughed and kissed her tears away.

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