“Then get on your treadmill. Or watch a movie. Do something to occupy your time while you wait for news.” He planted a kiss on her neck. “I’ll be back around six for dinner.”
Taking his advice, she changed into running clothes and pounded her frustration out on the treadmill. After showering for the second time that day, she picked at her salad while she made out her menu for the dinner she would take to the Horne family the following evening—chicken divan, heirloom tomato salad with mozzarella and basil, and peach cobbler for dessert. Doing something for Lula gave her a sense of purpose. Menu in hand, she went shopping at the Harris Teeter for the ingredients. When she returned from the grocery store, Lula’s minivan was parked in front of the Horne house. She assumed it was Brooke, as she’d seen her driving her mother’s van the previous day. While the chicken boiled, she sat with her computer and returned client e-mails at the kitchen island, where she had a direct line of sight through her french door to Lula’s driveway.
It was close to three o’clock when Phillip and Lula finally arrived home in his Ford sedan. Midge slid off her barstool and moved to the french door. She watched Phillip hurry around to the passenger side to help Lula out of the car. He braced his wife’s arm to steady her while Lula shuffled across the driveway, taking baby steps as though afraid she might fall. Midge thought back to Tuesday a week ago, the last time she’d seen Lula, when she’d gone over to talk to her about Lang’s affair. She may have been a little off—distracted by the party and Brooke’s upcoming visit—but she hadn’t appeared ill. The woman she watched slowly mount the back steps had aged ten years since then.
Midge prayed out loud to the empty room, “Oh God, please don’t let it be cancer. Give her the strength to fight it, whatever it is. And grant the doctors the expertise to make her well.”
She retrieved her phone from the island beside her computer and keyed off a text to Lizbet asking for word from her mother’s biopsy. Two hours passed before she received a response. “We’re meeting with Dr. Murdaugh tonight at six. We should know more then.”
Bennett arrived a few minutes after six with tuna steaks and two bottles of her favorite rosé. When he set his purchases down on the kitchen counter, she eyed the bottles. “Are you planning to get me drunk and have your way with me?”
His hands shot up. “Busted.” He pulled her into his arms. “We have a lot to talk about. I wanted to make sure we didn’t run out of wine.”
She rested her head against his chest. “Better to have extra, in case I need to drown my sorrows over Lula’s biopsy results.”
He ran his finger along her bare shoulder. “I know how much you care about Lula, sweetheart. All you can do for now is keep the faith.” He held her a minute longer before turning her loose to open a bottle of the wine.
They took their glasses out to her tiny brick terrace. She was standing beside him at the grill watching him scrape the grate with a wire brush when they saw Georgia and Lang round the back of Lula’s house and disappear inside. Midge and Bennett waved, but the Murdaughs either didn’t see them or avoided them on purpose.
Midge blinked away her tears. “I’ve lost both of my best friends. One of them is going to die, and the other is never going to forgive me for keeping her husband’s affair a secret.”
Bennett considered her empty glass. “I’m going to have to cut you off if you’re starting the pity party after only one glass.”
She elbowed him. “Stop teasing me. I’ve had a bad day.”
“And I’m here to make it better.” He dragged a patio chair over near the grill. “Sit back and relax, milady, while I cook your dinner.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve been holding out on me. I didn’t know you knew how to cook.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. But I aim to change that.”
Much to her surprise, Bennett seared the tuna to perfection and laid it out on a bed of baby greens. He made a dressing out of wasabi paste, rice vinegar, and soy sauce and drizzled it over the salad. He poured another glass of wine apiece, and they sat down at the table on the terrace to eat. Midge placed her phone next to her plate so as not to miss it when the text or call came in from Lizbet. Bennett did most of the talking, but Midge listened with rapt attention while he laid out his plans for the new business.
“So you see, we can’t move forward until we have a name,” he said, taking his last bite of salad and pushing his plate away. “Calhoun Properties is the perfect name. Marry me already, so we can make it official.”
“Stop pressuring me, Bennett.” She pointed her fork at him, a chunk of tuna stuck to the prongs. “I’ve only just discovered you can cook. I need to learn everything there is to know about you before I’ll marry you.”
“I’m not going to break bad again, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m a new man.”
He waited until she finished eating before scooping up their dirty plates and carrying them inside. As she watched him through the window, rinsing the plates and storing them in the dishwasher, she thought about how grateful she was to have him with her tonight of all nights as she waited for news from next door. He brought the bottle of wine and his iPad with him when he returned ten minutes later. He set the iPad in front of her. “I’ve bookmarked some properties we might want to check out.”
For the next forty-five minutes, they sipped wine as they studied the commercial properties for lease and sale in the downtown area that might fit their needs. All of them offered a small reception area for walk-in traffic downstairs with ample office space upstairs. Bennett lobbied hard for a lovely building on East Bay Street, but Midge thought the two on Meeting and Broad would serve them just as well for less money. To his credit, he didn’t mention marriage again.
He took her glass from her, set it down on the table, and reached for her hands. “We can make this thing happen, Midge. I know we can. We’ll have an attorney, someone outside of my family’s firm, draw up the papers. We’ll be equal partners and name the agency Calhoun Wilkins.”
“Calhoun Wilkins,” Midge repeated, letting the name roll off her tongue. “I like the sound of it.”
“I do, too, actually. This way, if you decide never to marry me, we’ll move in together and live in sin.” He dropped her hands and cupped her chin. “I’m serious, Midge. You’re calling the shots. I just want to be with you on whatever terms you decide.”
When she looked into his lovely blue eyes, she discovered compassion and sincerity. This time she listened to her heart and ignored the doubt gnawing at her gut. Smiling, she lifted her fingers to his lips. “You really are the darndest person. One minute I want to strangle you, and the next I couldn’t love you more.” She pressed her lips to his. “I say we do it!”
“You won’t regret it. Calhoun Wilkins will be a big success—just you wait and see.”
Midge’s mind began to spin. “Now is the prime time for me to make a move. The market will be dead for the rest of the summer. I can wrap up my last few listings and begin planning for the fall.”
He slid the iPad in front of him. “How about I schedule an appointment for tomorrow to look at our top four choices?”
The mention of tomorrow was the needle that popped a hole in her balloon. “Tomorrow is so soon. Can we wait until Monday, until I know more about Lula’s condition?” She feared the worst with each passing moment she didn’t hear from Lizbet. She felt guilty planning their future when’s Lula’s life was in the balance.
“Monday it is.” He snapped shut the cover on his iPad. “Now. How about some dessert? I brought over some of that raspberry cheesecake gelato you love.”
He started to get up, but she pushed him back down. “You cooked. The least I can do is get the ice cream.”
She was returning from the kitchen, carrying two small bowls of gelato, when she heard the sobs. “Do you hear that?”
“You mean that noise?” he asked, taking one of the bowls from her. “It just started. It sounds like someone is cry
ing.”
“Someone is sobbing, Bennett. Hysterically. And it’s coming from next door.” They’d seen Lang leave earlier, but as far as she knew, Georgia was still inside. “This waiting is killing me.”
Snatching up her phone, she left her gelato untouched and went back inside. She climbed the stairs to her guest bedroom, where she could see both Lula’s front and back doors. She would wait here all night for Georgia to come out if necessary. She wouldn’t be able to sleep until she got an update.
She could still hear the sobbing from the distance through the window. Lula’s front door suddenly flung open, and Lizbet dashed out and across the postage-stamp lawn to Georgia’s house. She returned several minutes later with Lang in tow. They disappeared inside, and seconds later, the crying subsided.
“I’m sorry for ruining our evening,” she said to Bennett when he came up to check on her. “This waiting is making me crazy. I saw Lizbet run over to Georgia’s and bring Lang back with her, but that was thirty minutes ago. Something terrible is going on in that house.”
When Bennett wrapped his arms around her from behind, she leaned back against him. She was grateful to him for not trying to make her feel better with empty words. There was nothing he could say.
“Why don’t you go get in my bed? I’ll be in in a minute.” She wanted to be alone, but she didn’t want him to leave. He’d had too much wine to drive home anyway.
“Are you sure? I can take an Uber,” he said as though reading her mind.
“No, it’s fine.” She turned her head and kissed his cheek. “I want you to stay.”
“Okay, then. You know where I’ll be if you want to talk.”
Midge grew angrier by the minute waiting for some sign of life next door. She wasn’t mad at Lizbet. Cancer or not, she was just a child who’d been dealt a horrible blow. But for Georgia to ignore Midge like this was downright cruel, no matter how ticked off she was about the Lang business. Lula was Midge’s friend, too. Georgia had an obligation to share the details of her illness. She could at least send her a simple text.
Midge was ready to give up and go to bed when Georgia and Lang emerged from the house. She shot off out of the room and down the stairs to the front stoop. As she marched down the sidewalk toward her, she called into the silent night, “Georgia, I need a word with you.”
“Now is not a good time,” Georgia said and kept walking.
Midge increased her pace. “She’s my friend, too, damn it,” she said, grabbing Georgia by the arm when she caught up with her.
Seeing the concern on Midge’s face, Georgia said, “Fine,” and motioned for her husband to go ahead without her.
As they watched him go, Midge was tempted to ask if she and Lang were working out their problems, but she no longer had the right to ask about Georgia’s personal life. She waited until he was out of earshot. “I’ve been sick with worry. Just tell me, is the tumor malignant?”
“I’m so angry at you, Midge, I can barely stand to look at you. I no longer think of you as a friend. But Lula would want you to know, so I’m telling you that yes, it is cancer. A very bad kind of cancer.”
Midge gasped. Tears filled her eyes, and a sob caught at the back of her throat.
“It’s all very complicated.” Georgia glanced over at the Hornes’ house as though worried they might overhear her. “I’m hesitant to say too much. You should talk to Phillip tomorrow. He can fill you in on the details.”
When Georgia started to walk away, Midge grabbed her arm again. “You’ll never know how sorry I am that I kept Lang’s affair from you. I care about you so much, I didn’t want to see you hurt. I was planning to tell you. I was just waiting for the right time. I understand you’re angry at me. I would be angry at me, too. But the three of us have been friends for twenty-six years. We need one another now more than ever.” She waited for Georgia to say something. But when she didn’t, Midge turned to leave.
“Wait, Midge. Don’t go.”
Midge turned back around to face her.
“You’re right. Lula will need both of us to help her through this.” Georgia moved in closer to Midge and lowered her voice. “Surgery, chemo, and radiation are all options. But only for extending her life by a few weeks, not for sending the cancer into remission. Lula is refusing to have treatment. Hopefully, she’ll change her mind tomorrow when she’s had a chance to calm down. As you can imagine, this has been difficult on all of them. Lula is taking her fear and anger out on poor Brooke and her partner, Sawyer.”
Midge shook her head. “I’m so sorry for them. What can I do to help? I’m taking them dinner tomorrow night, but I feel so useless.”
“There’ll be plenty for us to do in the coming weeks. You probably don’t know this, but Brooke and Sawyer are moving to Charleston. Brooke is planning to stay here at the house with her mother while Sawyer flies back to California to pack up their things. Poor Lula is already incapable of giving herself a bath, and things are only going to get worse. She’ll need more help than Brooke can offer.”
“I know a retired registered nurse who might have some free time,” Midge said. “I sold her a house a few years back. She works part-time for sick folks. Should I give her a call?”
Georgia thought about it for a minute. “I don’t want to overstep any boundaries, but poor Phillip is overwhelmed. I imagine he’d be grateful for the referral.”
“I’ll find out if she’s available and let Phillip take it from there. You know, I have another idea. Tell me what you think. Remember how upset Lula was when we stopped meeting for tea? Why don’t we start that back up? At least for a few weeks, while she feels like it. Do you think you could manage the time off work?”
“I’m sure I can get someone to cover for me at the store. That’s a nice idea, Midge. Thanks.” Georgia’s lips parted into a smile, a sign that she might one day forgive her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lizbet
Lizbet used work as an excuse to avoid her parents for the next few days. She couldn’t handle the hostile environment, listening to her mother lash out at Brooke, any more than she could face the realization that her mother might be dying. Even though she’d made the decision to stay away, she was concerned when no one from home called to give her an update. Had they made a decision about whether her mother would have treatment? Were the meds Dr. Dog prescribed helping any? Had her mother softened at all toward Brooke?
On Sunday, while working a wedding brunch at the yacht club, she observed the mother of the bride say goodbye to her daughter and was overcome with sadness knowing she might never share a similar moment with her own mother. She vowed to cherish whatever moments she had left, regardless of how cranky and irrational Lula behaved.
Lizbet boxed up several pieces of leftover wedding cake and drove the few blocks to her family’s home. She found her father working in her mother’s garden. “It’s awfully hot out here, Daddy. Shouldn’t you wait until later in the day when it cools down a little? Mom usually does her gardening in the morning.”
Looking up from his edging, he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his gloved hand. “Nah, I’m fine. But I appreciate you worrying about me. Brooke has done most of the work. I’m just finishing up a few remaining chores. The garden had gotten out of hand in a short amount of time. We didn’t want your mother stressing about it.”
Lizbet pinched a bloom off a butterfly bush. “It looks nice, Daddy. Mom will be pleased. How’s she doing?”
“Not much has changed since you were last here.” His expression grew solemn, and he sank the edging blade back into the dirt.
Lizbet cast an uncertain glance toward the house. “Where is everyone? Is it safe to go inside?”
He snickered. “I don’t think anyone’s going to bite your head off today. Except maybe Pooh. Poor boy hasn’t been for his walk yet. Your mother is upstairs napping, and Brooke is camped out in the Florida room watching something on TV.” He shooed her toward the door. “Go on in. I’ll be there
in a minute.”
Lizbet let herself in the back door and set the box of wedding cake on the counter. She tiptoed into the Florida room. Brooke was stretched out on the sofa, her hands behind her head and Pooh curled up at her feet, watching a gruesome scene from a Game of Thrones episode showing on TV.
Brooke looked up when she saw her enter the room. “Hey, kiddo. What’re you doing?”
“I just stopped by to check on things.” She approached the edge of the sofa and rubbed Pooh’s ears. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around the past few days. What happened the other night freaked me out. I was scared to come back. How are you surviving? After all, you’re the one she’s mad at.”
“I stay out of her way mostly. She seems a little better since she started taking the meds.” Brooke pushed Pooh out of the way and moved her feet over to make room for Lizbet on the sofa. “By better, I mean not as angry. She’s in some kind of trance, staring off into space. Only the Lord knows what she sees. She doesn’t seem to hear anything anyone says, and she’s barely spoken at all since the other night. If you can believe that, knowing how much Mom likes to boss everyone around. Worst of all she absolutely refuses to discuss treatment.”
Lizbet lowered herself to the sofa next to her sister. “What does Dad think about her not having treatment?”
Brooke hesitated. “I don’t know, Lizzy. I’ve tried to talk to him. He’s pretty much checked out. He seems content to let her have her way, even though he knows the cancer is affecting her ability to make an intelligent decision.”
Fingering the fringe on one of the decorative pillows, she asked, “How long do you think she has if she doesn’t do the treatment?”
Brooke shook her head. “As far as I know, Dr. Dog hasn’t said, and I’m afraid to ask. She’s getting weaker by the day. I know that much.”
Lizbet slipped off her shoes and, drawing her knees to her chest, placed the bottom of her feet against Brooke’s. For the next few minutes, they giggled and squirmed as they struggled against each other in a game they’d called leg wars when they were little girls, back in the days when they were friends.
Sweet Tea Tuesdays Page 18
