Life After Perfect

by Nancy Naigle

  Katy extended her hand across the table to Sam. “Katherine. Katy. Everyone calls me Katy.”

  The girl plopped an elbow on the table, and then pulled it down when she caught the side glance from her father as he shook Katy’s hand.

  Anne looked like she’d had that attitude from her daughter about one too many times already, but even as aggravating as it must have been, Katy was envious of the family.

  Anne tore her stare from her daughter. “So what brings you to town, Katy?”

  “Just passing through. I’m on an extended vacation.”

  Anne seemed to be waiting for more, but Katy wasn’t about to start spilling her guts to complete strangers, so she just let the silence hang.

  “When did you get in?” Sam asked.

  “Earlier today.”

  Rachel got up and started roaming around the room.

  Naomi whisked into the room with a tea service. “Tea, my dears?”

  She filled the cups without a dribble or a splash, then moved a lovely ruby-red Depression glass tray from the sideboard to the table. “Fresh cream, local honey, and sugar and a pretty rainbow of all the fake kinds of sweet stuff the business types love to use.” She gave them a big wink. “Me. I’m just a good old-fashioned sugar girl.”

  “You are after my heart, aren’t you, Naomi,” Sam said.

  “I know you like the blue packets, Sam.” She gave his back a little rub and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m so glad you were able to make me part of your travels again. It’s so good to see y’all. Rachel, you are more beautiful every time I lay eyes on you.”

  Anne gave her daughter a glare from across the table.

  “Thank you,” Rachel said with only a halfhearted smile and plopped back down in her chair.

  Naomi winked at the parents. “I’m not serving juice tonight, because I made a wonderful berry French toast dish. Juice would just make you pucker. So what’s your pleasure? You sticking with tea or is anyone up for milk? I’ve got white or chocolate.”

  Sam and Anne both said, “Tea.”

  “Milk for me,” Katy said. “Chocolate.”

  Rachel looked at her with some surprise. “Chocolate moo juice for me, too.”

  “Great.” Naomi extended two fingers on each hand as if to help her remember their preferences by the time she got back to the kitchen. “Give me just a minute and I’ll get you all served up.”

  Sam took a sip of his tea. “If you’re going to be here for any time at all, you have to go on the watershed project hike along the creek. It’s a good workout, and the scenery is peaceful.”

  Anne’s face lit up. “Yes. It’s amazing. We even saw an eagle when we went last time. Didn’t we, Sam?”

  “We did, and if you’re looking for some good southern cooking for dinner one night, go to the Blue Skies Cafe.”

  Rachel nodded. “Oh, yeah. That place is off the hook. Best fried chicken in the world. But be prepared to wait for it. It takes them like a half hour to cook it.”

  “Worth it,” Sam said.

  Katy just nodded and listened, committing the suggestions to memory. An all-American family. She’d never get Ron to stay at a B&B. He was too impatient to conform to the schedule, and way too much in a hurry to just meet and mingle with new folks.

  Naomi came back in, a sweet scent following along. She slid the strawberry French toast casserole into the center of the table. She then left and came back out and put a warm carafe of maple syrup in front of Rachel.

  “Can you serve, Katy?” Naomi asked as she disappeared once again into the kitchen.

  Katy took the silver serving spatula and carved a slice, then reached for Sam’s plate. Once everyone had a nice portion, Katy took a small serving for herself.

  Naomi pushed backward through the kitchen door, carrying the two chocolate milks. “Anything else I can get you kids?”

  “Not a thing.” Katy put a forkful of the strawberry French toast into her mouth. “Oh, Naomi! Nell was right. You do make an amazing breakfast. Even if it is dinnertime. Thank you for this. I was really hungry.”

  “That’s what brings pleasure to my heart, young lady.”

  They all dug in and Katy was thankful the idle chitchat slowed to a halt.

  As soon as she was done, she excused herself under the guise of needing to make a few phone calls and took a cup of tea out to the porch off of her room.

  Out of habit she’d tucked her phone into her pocket. She sat down in a blue rocker next to a pot of bright-red geraniums, placing her teacup on the small nail keg that served as a side table, and began to look through her messages. Shaleigh had called. She listened to her voice mail, which told Katy to check her email for some details.

  Katy flipped through the email messages to find the one Shaleigh referred to.

  There were a few papers to sign, and then Shaleigh went on to advise her that she should call and let Ron know why she’d left and what her intentions were.

  Katy slouched in her seat. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to him about this, but the reason she’d called Shaleigh was because she was the best doggone divorce lawyer around. It wouldn’t do her any good not to follow her advice.

  She plucked a geranium bloom from the pot and twisted it between her fingers.

  She responded to Shaleigh’s email.

  Shaleigh,

  Sorry I missed your call. I’ll get these papers filled out and back to you tonight. Meanwhile, I’m staying at the Lonesome Pines Inn in Boot Creek, North Carolina. Have not told anyone else where I am, but if you can’t get me on my phone . . . call here.

  I’ll make sure Ron knows what I know before he hits his desk Monday morning. Should get interesting.

  Katherine

  She put her phone facedown in her lap, then pushed off the porch floor with her foot and let the rocker do its thing, move at the speed it wanted to. It was soothing. Her phone vibrated and she flipped it over to look at the text message. Short and sweet. From Shaleigh.

  Take care, sweetie.

  Katy’s skin grew clammy. Probably more a symptom of the situation than the warm weather, but she went back inside to try to cool off.

  She took the little cross-stitched DO NOT DISTURB sign from the back of the door. Katy admired the handiwork, and thought about hanging it out on the crystal doorknob, but the truth was, that email from Shaleigh had amped her up.

  It wouldn’t take long to fill out the papers. She had most of the information in the stuff that Peggy had told her to grab. She grabbed her laptop and sat cross-legged on the bed. As her fingernails clicked against the keyboard, she had a little satisfaction in knowing she was taking a solid step toward some kind of end to this matter.

  By the time she’d completed the forms, the sun was setting, and although that French toast had been delicious, she felt snacky. No surprise; stress usually did that to her, only she didn’t have a stash of comfort food with her.

  There had been plenty of comfort food at that blackberry festival. Part of her wanted to stay in bed until everything was behind her, but she knew that wasn’t about to happen. Surely, gorging herself on comfort food wasn’t going to be a long-term solution. Even a festival full of it might not be enough to conquer the emotional beating she’d taken, but it was better than wallowing in self-pity. “Think long, think wrong.” Daddy had always said that about things. Of course, it may have been his way of surviving in a house with three women all those years.

  It was a weird feeling to be able to just get up and go out without having anyone to answer to. Maybe there would be some plusses to her new situation. She grabbed her keys and headed out. She had a good sense of direction, and essentially it was only two turns back to where the festival was.

  The roads had turned dark. No streetlights in this little town. It made her appreciate the nicely finished roads and lig
hts of her neighborhood back home.

  There were a lot of decisions to make—where she would live, what kind of place it would be. She loved having a house and a yard, but they required a lot of upkeep. Was she really ready to handle that all on her own? On one income, even if it was a good one, was it smart to spend money on a landscaper when she should be tucking it away for retirement?

  Thinking of her dad cutting Jacqueline’s yard made her cringe. She’d never ask that of him, no matter what.

  She drove to the same church where she’d parked that morning and pulled up to the parking attendant.

  He pointed to her parking pass from before, and waved her through.

  “A deal.” She didn’t get as good a spot this time, though.

  She texted Peggy.

  KATHERINE:Just checking in on you.

  PEGGY: Awww. Thanks. I’m okay. It’s crazy here. No one’s talking to me. Silent treatment is deafening.

  KATHERINE:Shaleigh got things started on my end. I’m at a blackberry festival. Go figure.

  PEGGY: First day of the rest of your life, girl. I’m living vicariously through you. Have a ball!

  KATHERINE: Hugs.

  The first day of the rest of my life.

  What did that even mean? It sounded a bit overwhelming, but she took multimillion-dollar projects from totally offtrack back to success. How was this so different? If she could just take the emotion out of it and break everything down into tasks, she should be just fine. Just one more project, albeit a personal one.

  “I’m young. Smart. Successful. I will be fine.” And with that she got out of the car and headed to the festival again.

  Earlier there’d been a mishmash wave of weird-wonderful music—rock, country, bluegrass, and some new age stuff all mingled together, alternately taking over the lead as she’d moved by the row of multicolored tents and displays.

  Tonight, a single flow of music rolled in like a tide the closer she got to the action.

  She hadn’t noticed the strands of lights overhead as she’d walked down the streets this afternoon, but now the strings of blackberry-blue colored lights strung across the road between the merchants like tightropes were aglow like psychedelic stars.

  The song “Hot Hot Hot” by Buster Poindexter suddenly filled the air and Katy clapped as a conga line started forming right in front of her. She laughed and continued to clap, singing along. She made her way to a tent and bought a glass of blackberry wine.

  “Four dollars,” the bartender said.

  She handed him a five and took a sip. “That’s great!” She danced her way back to watch the fun in the streets with her glass. Way better than being huddled up in the fetal position.

  The black-light effect of those blackberry lights made her white blouse glow. There was something about black lights and wine that could buoy your mood on any day. Maybe she should buy a case of those purple bulbs.

  Someone grabbed her arm and she spun around.

  Derek grinned, his cheeks still smooth, not even a hint of a five o’clock or seven o’clock shadow. “Come on. Thought you’d left!”

  What were the odds he’d have still been there, or even spotted her in a crowd this big. “I’m back.” She wasn’t sure if it was the blackberry wine, or the light, but the way his mouth moved when he talked made her want him to just keep on talking. “Hi.” The tingle that tickled her nerves made her laugh from the nervous excitement.

  He pulled her into the middle of a giant twisting conga line that seemed to weave in and out of the entire block. “It’s fun. See!”

  She could barely hear him above the hooting, hollering, and loud music, and the sound of her own laughter. That blackberry wine definitely had a little something to do with it too.

  Above, the soft breeze blew the strung lights like psychedelic fireflies over their heads as they congaed through the streets.

  She set her plastic wine glass down on a nearby table, then looped her fingers through his belt to not lose her grasp. They skipped and kicked and by the time the music shifted, they’d made it darn near to the other end of the block, and she was out of breath from laughing so hard.

  That DJ must have played that song back-to-back three times.

  The tempo dropped from the fast, almost-Caribbean sound to Jimmy Buffett’s “Margaritaville.”

  People started peeling away and she let go of Derek’s waist. “That was fun.” She stepped back and started to walk toward the curb.

  “Uh-uh. Get back here.” He tugged her hand and gently pulled her into his arms and swayed to the beat of the music.

  Nose to nose, she recovered from the quick surprise of his unexpected move. “You can dance.”

  “I’m not sure I’m good at it, but I think it’s fun.” When the song stopped, he placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her away around, facing away from him, then leaned into her neck and said, “Come on. I want to show you something.”

  She let him guide her forward until they made their way out to the edge of the crowd of enthusiastic festivalgoers.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, stepping around her to take the lead moving through the crowd before she could even answer.

  Eat? That was like a date. She was married. Kind of. What the hell was she doing? “For a snack, maybe. What do you have in mind?”

  He was moving faster than her feet would go, making her do triple steps to keep up, like he was sensing her trepidation.

  He laughed as if sincerely amused. “You always answer a question with a question?”

  She squeezed his hand. “Why do you ask?”

  “Good one.” He glanced down at her and snickered as he pulled her hand tighter into his own. “What, are you a lawyer or something?”

  Game on. She was determined to come up with another question to his question if it killed her. “Do I look like a lawyer to you?”

  “You’re killing me,” he said, but with an easy smile that melted her defenses.

  She took satisfaction in the little victory.

  “Come on,” he said with a gentle squeeze to her hand. “Don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”

  He tugged her toward a small building with a brick front and pushed the door open. “It’s a lot quieter in here.”

  She pointed over her shoulder. “But all the action is out there. I thought we were going to get some festival food.” She didn’t even know this guy. What was she doing?

  She withdrew her hand and turned back toward the crowd.

  “I’m sorry. Did I scare you?” He paused and stepped back, giving her room to breathe.

  “Well . . .”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. This is a restaurant—Bella’s.” He pushed the second door open and there were several tables with some people seated at them, but not many. “See?”

  She let out a sigh of relief, and let her arm, which had tensed at his last tug, relax.

  “Same dishes right here, and a few even better ones,” he said, leading her to a table in the middle and pulling out a chair. “And you don’t have to balance a paper plate and eat with a plastic fork.”

  “Oh. Okay. Yeah, count me in, then.” Seemed innocent enough, and she’d never been a real fan of plasticware.

  He led her to a table and pulled out a chair for her.

  She sat and placed a cloth napkin in her lap. “Come here often?” she teased, trying to make up for acting like he was an ax murderer.

  “Some. Can I order for us?”

  “By all means. Have at it.” It was nice to just let go of the wheel. Katherine might have thought she needed to control the situation, but Katy was enjoying it immensely.

  A waiter stepped to the table with two martini-type glasses of a frosty purple concoction. “Complimentary.”

  “Thank you,” Katy said and took a sip. “Fabulous.”

&
nbsp; The waiter nodded, looking pleased that she liked it. “Enjoying the festival?”

  “Very much,” she said.

  Derek didn’t bother with the menu. “We’ll have the blackberry spinach salad, pork chops with blackberry port sauce, and sweet potato–quinoa cakes.”

  “Sounds delicious,” Katy said. “But it also sounds like a ton of food.”

  He folded his hands in front of him on the table. “Not that much. You’re in for a treat.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So you are just passing through?” He placed his napkin in his lap and pushed the candle between them off to the side. “I’m glad I bumped into you.”

  “Me too.” She sipped from the frosted glass. “I really needed this.”

  “Where you headed?”

  “Just taking some time off,” she said, choosing her words carefully. He seemed to be waiting for more, but what more could she say? If she said she had no idea where she was going, she’d sound like a fruit loop. Even just thinking it in her own head sounded a little ridiculous.

  “What do you do?”

  “Nothing for the next few weeks if I stick to the plan,” she said. “I’m on a little hiatus.”

  He lifted his glass to hers. “To vacations. And fun. And new friends.”

  She took in a deep breath. “To new friends.”

  The waiter came back to the table. “You liked the drink?”

  “I did,” she said.

  “Would you like another, perhaps with a little shot of something fun? Or we have blackberry wine as well.”

  “Oh, blackberry wine sounds great.” She looked to Derek. “I just had my first taste ever out there. It was amazing.”

  Derek looked at the waiter and held up two fingers. He was off without a word and back before they had even picked up a new thread of conversation.

  Right behind that the food arrived.

  Katy leaned over the plate. “Who knew you could make so many things with blackberries in them? I mean, desserts, yes, but main courses . . . vegetables . . . who knew?”

  “That’s why it’s worthy of a festival. And the chef here, Roarke, he’s one of the best chefs in the region. He worked at the Biltmore for years before retiring here.”