Sweet Tea at Sunrise

by Sherryl Woods

  “I hate to tell you, but I’m having trouble keeping it straight. How am I supposed to treat you?”

  “Not like this.”

  “And not like a woman I’m attracted to,” he countered.

  “Yes, not like that.” She actually understood a little of his frustration. She got confused from time to time herself. Finally she said wistfully, “How about friends? Couldn’t we act like friends and coworkers who respect each other?”

  His expression softened. “You mean instead of me trying to bulldoze over you or seduce you, depending on my mood?”

  She allowed herself a smile. “Yes, that would be an improvement.”

  “Okay, I’ll try,” he promised. “To be honest, I’m not used to having to sort through all these tricky dynamics. Most of my relationships have been pretty straightforward. I played ball with—and for—a bunch of men. Believe me, I didn’t want to sleep with any of them. I dated a lot of high-profile women who wanted to sleep with me. The distinctions were pretty clear-cut.”

  “None of those women were friends?”

  “Not a one.”

  “That’s sad.”

  He shrugged. “Probably, but it worked out fine for me at the time.”

  “Maybe we should agree that we both need to be more patient when the lines get a little blurry,” she suggested.

  “Or we could agree to sleep together and get that out of the way,” he countered, his expression boyishly hopeful.

  Despite herself, Sarah couldn’t help laughing. “Not in the cards.” It was so easy for her to say that when he was being deliberately outrageous. Had he looked for even an instant as if he’d meant it, she wasn’t sure she could have laughed off the suggestion.

  “You’re tough.”

  She was surprisingly pleased by the comment. No one had ever thought she was tough before. She’d mostly been a pushover. “Thank you. Now what is this very important meeting all about?”

  He stared at her blankly, then shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  “You have no idea,” she repeated slowly. She regarded him incredulously.

  He shrugged. “I just wanted a few minutes alone with you and all of a sudden it turned into this big deal,” he admitted, looking sheepish. “Sorry. If you need to get home, go ahead.”

  She probably should have done exactly that, but suddenly she didn’t want to. Instead, she frowned at him. “You have to be kidding me. After all this, the least you can do is to buy me a burger and fries.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I believe I’d like a chocolate milk shake, too.”

  “I can do that,” he agreed at once. He signaled to the teen who’d replaced Sarah as a part-time waitress and placed the order, then turned back to Sarah. “We’re okay?”

  “We’re okay,” she confirmed.

  In fact, if they were any more okay, she’d be dragging him straight home to bed, which was exactly why she needed to keep little outings like this to a minimum.

  Travis hadn’t been over to Charleston to see his folks since being released by the Red Sox. The frequent phone calls, especially from his mother, had been awkward enough. Lately, though, they’d taken on an unexpected tone of urgency. When his mother insisted he drive over on the weekend for lunch, he finally acquiesced. Clearly there was something on her mind.

  Since he couldn’t see her without fitting in a visit with his father, he made arrangements to meet him for dinner. It promised to be a fun-filled Sunday, he thought sarcastically as he reluctantly headed across the state.

  After the divorce, his mother had moved into a condo that required less upkeep than the house she’d always despised. After years of living with McDonald family heirlooms, she’d fought tradition and decorated with a clean, modern look that left Travis cold, but somehow suited her sophisticated style. Rather than the massive flower arrangements they’d always had at home, she accented rooms with a single, dramatic bird of paradise in a heavy crystal vase, or a few tulips artfully arranged in a bouquet.

  When he arrived, she welcomed him with a kiss on the cheek.

  “We’ll eat right away,” she said, leading the way directly to the dining room, where the table had been set for two. “I know you’re having an early dinner with your father, and I wouldn’t want to hold you up.”

  Travis flushed. “Sorry, but I could only get away for the day. The radio station is taking up a lot of time, even when I’m not on the air.”

  “And I want to hear all about it,” she said, though she didn’t sound particularly eager. Mostly, she sounded distracted, and oddly upset.

  “Mother, what’s on your mind? Let’s deal with that first. Maybe then you’ll be able to enjoy your meal and actually listen to anything I have to say.”

  She looked faintly embarrassed, but she didn’t deny that her mind was elsewhere. “There is something you need to know,” she said.

  She sounded so somber, his gut twisted into a knot. Was she about to tell him she was ill? Or, God forbid, dying? “Mom, are you okay?” he asked worriedly. He might not be the most attentive son in the world, but he did love her.

  She looked startled by the question. “Me? I’m fine. It’s your father.”

  Travis was puzzled. His father had sounded particularly exuberant on the phone. “He’s not sick, is he?”

  “Not unless you count losing his mind as being sick,” she said bitterly. “You need to be prepared for tonight.”

  “Why? Did he get a bad toupee or something?” His father had been unapologetically bald as far back as Travis could remember, even before the style had become popularized by younger male celebrities shaving their heads.

  “Worse,” she said. “He’s gotten engaged.”

  The news wasn’t half as shocking as her reaction to it. “And you don’t approve,” he surmised.

  “No one approves.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s engaged to Mimsy Phelps’s daughter, that’s why.”

  Travis didn’t even try to hide his dismay. “Trina? Dad is engaged to Trina Phelps? She’s my age.”

  “A year younger, actually. I suspect tonight’s dinner is all about you breaking bread with the happy bride-to-be and giving the couple your blessing.”

  “My God,” Travis murmured. “Does Dad know that I used to date Trina?”

  “It may have slipped his mind,” she said. “But I doubt it. He seems to be in a particularly rebellious mood these days.”

  “Is this some kind of midlife crisis or something?” Travis asked, though he knew better. His father had always pushed the limits when it came to women. The more inappropriate the relationship, the better. Marriage hadn’t stopped him. Divorce had only given him license to take his philandering ways more public.

  Across the glass-topped dining room table, his mother set down her sterling silver fork—one of the few treasured heirlooms she’d kept—and looked him in the eye, her expression earnest. “You have to stop him.”

  “Me? When has Dad ever listened to me about anything? And how am I supposed to discuss this with him if he brings Trina along to dinner?”

  “I’m sure you can make him see how wrong this is, even if she’s there. Appeal to her good nature, if nothing else. Heck, seduce her yourself. You found her attractive enough once upon a time.”

  “Mother!”

  “Well, something has to be done. and I’m at my wit’s end. He won’t listen to a word I say.”

  Though it should have gone without saying this many years after their divorce, Travis felt compelled to point out, “Dad is no longer your problem.”

  “Technically, no, but God help me, I’ve always had a soft spot for him. It pains me to see him acting like a fool. The whole town is talking about this. If it were just some passing whim, that might be one thing, but marriage? It’s absurd!”

  For all of its growth in recent years, Charleston essentially remained a small town when it came to a certain social set. The McDonalds had their place and, despite the long-ago divorce, what his
father did might still reflect badly on his mother. At the very least, Travis could see how it would cause her embarrassment.

  “I’ll do my best, Mom, but don’t expect miracles. Dad’s done whatever he wanted for a long time now.”

  “Well, this girl is going to take him for every penny he has, if he’s not careful,” she declared. “You mark my words. Why else would she be with him?”

  “Maybe for the same reason you once were,” he said carefully. “Maybe she really does love him.”

  “Oh, hogwash!” she said dismissively.

  “I can’t believe it’s about money,” he said. “Doesn’t her family have buckets of it?”

  “Not since the recession came close to wiping them out. The word at the club is that Mimsy’s broker invested in some very bad things, then took off to God knows where. I doubt they’re poor as church mice, but they don’t have the unlimited resources they once did.”

  “And Dad does?” He had no idea what his father’s net worth might be these days. He’d always had a tendency to act as if money grew on trees.

  “For all of his profligate ways, yes. He’s smart when it comes to financial matters, and nobody’s going to push him into bad investments.”

  Travis was beginning to see why she thought there might be a problem. He just had no idea what he could do about it. “Mom, he isn’t going to appreciate either of us meddling in his life.”

  “I don’t give two hoots whether he appreciates it,” she said fiercely. “Fix this, Travis. I mean it. Otherwise, I’ll never be able to hold up my head in this town again.”

  Travis tried to keep any hint of pity from his expression, but, truthfully, pity was what he felt. Because despite every humiliation, every angry word they’d exchanged and years of divorce, his mother was still as in love with his father as she had been on the day they’d wed. He even wondered if, on some level, she hadn’t always expected him to come back to her once he settled down and tired of chasing every pretty woman who crossed his path.

  He gave his mother’s hand a quick squeeze and promised he’d do what he could, then deliberately changed the subject, telling her all about the radio station, singing Bill’s praises for all he’d done and mentioning Sarah only in passing.

  Unfortunately, the second Sarah’s name crossed his lips, his mother regarded him with a penetrating look. “She’s special, isn’t she?”

  “Why would you think that? I barely mentioned her name.”

  She smiled. “Which is exactly what gave it away. Are the two of you dating?”

  “No. She won’t go out with me.” He heard the grumpy note in his voice and grimaced. It was way too telling.

  “Interesting. She’s obviously very smart. That’s the best way I know to keep a man fascinated.”

  “She’s not playing some game with me, Mother. We’re a bad match. I’m too much like Dad.”

  “Oh, hogwash,” his mother said for the second time in a few minutes. “You’re nothing at all like your father. He indulges his weaknesses. You never have.”

  She was wrong about that. “I dated every available woman who came my way while I was playing ball,” he countered.

  “And never promised one of them anything, I imagine. You played fair.”

  “Of course.”

  “That alone differentiates you from your father. He never played fair. He shouldn’t have married me.”

  Travis was surprised by that assessment. “Why not?”

  “He was nowhere near ready to settle down.”

  “But he chose you just the same.”

  “Only because I was pregnant with you.”

  Travis had figured that out years ago, so her words didn’t come as a shock.

  “I should have had sense enough to say no,” she continued, “but I wasn’t quite strong enough to face having a child on my own. Plus, I knew he cared about me. I thought I could turn his affection into love. Women are extremely foolish when it comes to that sort of thing, you know. We all believe we can change men into being exactly what we want.”

  “Sarah’s not like that. She’s not the least bit interested in changing me.” He had to wonder if that wasn’t why he found her so fascinating. She simply didn’t have the same kind of feminine guile he’d seen so often in other women.

  “Maybe because she’s the first woman who can see what’s in your heart, rather than the bad-boy public image you’ve worked so hard to cultivate.”

  “Or maybe because all she sees is the public image, and she doesn’t want any part of it,” he countered. “It doesn’t matter. We’re not dating, much less involved.”

  But even as he tried to summarize their relationship and put it into a safe, familiar compartment, he felt an odd sense of dismay stealing over him. Could he really have the missing piece of that perfect picture he’d described for Tom…a new career, a welcoming community, a home and the right woman, one suited for the long haul? He’d have to give that some thought.

  First, though, he had to see if there was any chance he could save his father from whatever crazy path he was on.

  Travis met his father and Trina in a small, informal seafood restaurant known mostly to longtime Charleston residents and hidden away from tourists. The waterfront setting and ambience were decidedly casual, but the chef was first-rate and the prices matched. Greg McDonald enjoyed the contradiction.

  He stood when Travis crossed the dining room, then gave his son a hearty slap on the back.

  “You’re looking good, Dad,” Travis said, meaning it. His father was tall and trim with a golf-course tan that accented his blue eyes. His classic bone structure worked well with the bald look.

  Travis then turned to Trina, who looked vaguely uncertain about what reception to expect.

  “You must be good for him,” Travis told her, hoping to at least start off putting her at ease until he had a better sense of where things stood. He’d decided on a strategy on the drive over, but he’d wait to make sure it was the best way to go.

  “I try to be,” she said, looking relieved. “How are you, Travis? It’s been a long time.”

  “My senior year of college, as I recall. You were a junior.” He emphasized the latter and saw his father flush.

  “Travis!” he said, his tone filled with warning.

  Travis turned an innocent look on his father. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “Obviously your mother has filled you in,” Greg said. “Even though I asked her to let me tell you. Yes, Trina and I are getting married. I hope you’ll be happy about that.”

  “I’m not the one who needs to be happy,” Travis said.

  His father looked slightly taken aback. “You mean that?”

  “Look, I can’t honestly say I’m not surprised, but beyond that, it’s none of my concern. If this is really what you want, Dad, I wish you well. You, too, Trina.”

  “Thank you,” she said, taking his words at face value.

  His father still didn’t look convinced. “I’m sure you have more you want to say.”

  “Nope,” Travis said. “You’re a smart man. Smart enough to take care of all the legalities, I’m sure.”

  Trina’s expression froze. “Legalities?”

  “A prenup, that sort of thing,” Travis said. “I’m sure you want that, too, Trina. You don’t want Dad taking advantage of your family’s wealth, or vice versa. If you two love each other, it’s only fair to keep the whole money thing out of it, right?”

  “Actually we don’t want to start our marriage with some piece of paper that suggests we’re already thinking about how it might end,” Trina said.

  Travis reacted with feigned surprise. “Really? I mean, I get that it takes the edge off the romance and all, but people in your financial world have to be responsible and practical, don’t you think, Dad?”

  Greg McDonald looked disconcerted, though it was hard to tell whether it was due to Travis’s mention of a prenuptial agreement or Trina’s obviously agitated response to the suggestion.
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br />   “Could we stop talking about money and just enjoy the evening?” Greg suggested, giving Trina’s hand a squeeze. “There’s plenty of time to worry about all that.”

  Travis decided to let it go. He was pretty sure he’d made his point. “When’s the wedding?” he inquired.

  “I’d like to get married as soon as possible,” Trina said.

  There was an unattractive hint of desperation in her tone, though Travis was sure she meant only to sound eager.

  “Possibly in the fall,” his father said. “Or maybe after the first of the year. I want Trina to have the wedding of her dreams.”

  She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I keep telling him he’s all I need, but he doesn’t believe me.”

  “I do,” Travis said. In fact, he was just about a hundred percent certain she’d be pushing for a quickie wedding in Vegas before the night was out. Things must be really tough for the Phelps family these days, and she was the designated savior. That much was clear to him, if not to his father. Too bad he couldn’t pull Greg aside and have a real heart-to-heart with him. Surely he wasn’t entirely blind to what was going on.

  Travis managed to choke down his meal, but he could hardly wait to get away from the happy couple. He rose as soon as they’d all finished their coffee.

  “I have a long drive ahead of me,” he told them. “Dad, I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

  “Sure, son,” Greg said distractedly, clearly engrossed in Trina, whose hand seemed to be wandering somewhere out of sight under the table. Travis shuddered.

  By the time he climbed into his car, he fully understood his mother’s concern. For all of his years of playing an irresponsible bachelor, Greg McDonald had always been smart enough to avoid falling into any sort of feminine trap. Now it seemed the trap had been set and baited, and he was barely one step away from getting caught. It just proved that even the mightiest player could fall.

  Travis had a hunch there might be a lesson in there for him, too.

  13

  Sarah reluctantly loaded the kids into the car late on Sunday afternoon for a barbecue at Tom and Jeanette’s. She had a feeling she’d been invited primarily because of Travis. Jeanette was still conspiring to throw the two of them together, despite Sarah’s repeated claims that she wasn’t interested.