“Now, when I say we’re putting the mobile home inside the house,” he started up again, refusing to look her way, “I don’t mean the undercarriage or the outside. Vince is going to dismantle and recycle as much of the parts we don’t use as he can. His goal is to re-create the interior as accurately as possible. Gage, you’ll remember that only one side of our trailer had windows. That side will look out on the backyard from the first floor of the house. The front door, on the same side, will face a porch.”
Gage was taking it in … taking it in … So were True and Weezie.
Harrison just kept hoping they would.
“You or your guests,” he went on to Gage, “who might like privacy, can access the trailer pad from that backyard staircase. But to meet code and for convenience, Vince is going to scatter a discreet couple of doors—one in each bedroom, and one in the living room area—on the other side so you can enter from the interior of the big house if you’d rather.”
Gage was chewing hard on his cheek.
“The fun part for Vince’s friend and an interior designer friend of mine coming in this afternoon from Nashville,” said Harrison, “will be salvaging what they can from the interior of the original trailer. And if they can’t do that—they’re going to find exact or close copies so that when you walk in, Gage, it’s our old homestead. Down to the vinyl flooring, the tacky ceilings, and the fake wood paneling on the walls. Your guests will think it’s kitschy fun. And you can write your crosswords up there knowing that both Mama’s and Daddy’s memories are being honored through this special project.”
He heard a sniffle. It was True crying. Dammit, so was Weezie. And Gage—his eyes were watering up, too.
“Stop it, everyone,” he said, his own eyes burning all of a sudden. “I got one more thing. Gage and I aren’t moving back to the trailer now, obviously. So if you don’t mind”—he was forced to glance at True—“and if Gage is amenable to unpacking his bag again, he’ll stay here.”
“Of course!” she piped up right away, damn chipper for a woman who’d just ended their future. Again.
“Thanks,” Gage told her. “You two ladies are great hostesses.”
“We like having you,” Weezie said. “You’re a good cook. And most of the time, you’re not boring anymore.”
“Thanks,” Gage said. “Neither are you. Sometimes.”
Harrison was dying to share a secret glance of amusement with True, but those days were over. “I hope you’ll have better luck with your puzzles,” he told Gage, “now you know what’s gonna be waiting for you in the new house.”
“I sense my stress levels plummeting already,” said Gage, “a sure sign that my productivity will not only increase but be of a higher quality.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Weezie said with a chuckle.
“Weezie,” said True.
“He can take it,” she said airily and glanced back at Gage, who was scrolling through his messages, oblivious.
Here came the part Harrison really dreaded. “I’m heading back to Nashville today,” he said quietly. “I’ve got to stop by the construction site first to talk to Vince. But then I’m outta here. I’ll come back when the house is done. So maybe three weeks.”
“No!” Weezie cried. “The wedding! You’ll miss the wedding!”
Harrison put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You’ll have to email me pictures.” Which he would promptly delete before opening.
Weezie was really crying now. True’s face was pale. She looked at the floor, her expression pained.
“I don’t want you to go, Harrison.” Weezie wiped at her eyes. “Stay here. Move back. You can live with Gage, and everyone will be happy.”
If only life were that simple. Harrison shook his head. “I wish I could, Weezie. But my life is too complicated to be able to do that. Don’t forget I told you that anytime you want to fly out and see me, you can. We won’t be losing touch this time. I promise.” He stood. “I’m going. I could use some hugs.”
Weezie jumped up from her chair and tried to make it to the back door, but Harrison was fast on his feet and caught her. “Come here.”
She sobbed into his shirt. “I can’t believe you’re leaving again. I can’t believe it.”
She was a mess. And if she kept this up, soon he’d be, too. He closed his eyes and held her tight. “I’m gonna miss you. And every time you drive that car I promised you at the end of your first semester, I want you to think of me. Okay, little sister?”
“Car? What car?” True stood and came over.
Weezie pulled it together long enough to look up and say, “The one he’s going to get me if I get good grades and act socially correct.”
“Oh,” True said softly.
And then Weezie started crying again, but softer this time, poor girl.
“Why don’t you run out and feed the chickens,” her sister suggested in a calm, gentle voice.
“All right,” Weezie whispered, and was about to open the door when she turned back around. “At least we still have Gage,” she said hopefully.
Aw. She sure knew how to pull at a guy’s heartstrings.
But Harrison’s brother just stood there. Was Gage thinking about what to say? Or was he just gonna ignore her? Because that would suck.
True was opening her mouth to do her usual save when Gage spoke up. “Can I be your big brother, too?” he asked Weezie. “I’m not going anywhere, so I hope you’ll come over to my new place and hang out a lot. Your friends can come with you.”
Hallelujah. Too bad Harrison couldn’t share his happiness about this little Kodak moment with True.
Weezie wiped a hand across her eyes. “Sure,” she told Gage with a trembly little smile.
And then she was gone.
A little bit of Harrison’s heart went with her.
Thankfully, the farewell with True was surprisingly easy. Gage was there. So Harrison thanked her for her hospitality the same way he’d thank a hotel manager for a nice stay. She, gracious southern belle that she was, said it had been entirely her pleasure.
On the porch, he hugged Gage first, who fortunately went back inside. Now Harrison wouldn’t have to give True a mock hug. Too bad, because her soft little body was the one thing in the world he loved to hold more than his guitar.
She followed him down to the car.
He turned the key in the ignition and looked at her from his window. What the hell to say? “It’s been crazy, huh?”
“Sure has.” She nodded tightly.
“You really don’t have to be out here.”
“I know.”
“Have a good wedding.” Saying that was hard.
“I will,” she squeaked back. “Good luck with those songs.”
He was going to say, I hope the bow ties are a hit, but he’d had enough of the bullshit-southern-manners stuff. So he took off, waving from the window, refusing to look at her in the rearview mirror. He didn’t want to remember her that way, getting smaller and smaller until she disappeared.
* * *
At the construction site, Harrison had one last consultation with Vince, who assured him that he had everything under control.
“Forget about all of this until I call and tell you it’s done,” Vince said over the noise of the construction crew pounding nails. They were framing the floor. “You go back home and take care of business.”
“Thanks.” He looked at the view of the creek that Gage would have and thought, Lucky man.
“Did you know there’s a guitar without a case in the master bedroom closet of the trailer?” Vince asked him as he headed to his car. “You should rescue it.”
Harrison’s chest tightened. “That’s my father’s. I’ll pick it up before I go.”
He’d never touched that guitar and had forgotten all about it. He’d always felt too guilty, thinking he’d landed his father in jail, so he’d bought his own. But it was Dad’s guitar that had gotten him interested in playing.
“One more thing.
” Vince grinned. “Weezie Maybank’s coming over to interview me. She wants the story behind the dresses. Says she has a human-interest class coming up, and she wants to get a head start on her assignments.”
Harrison pulled at his ear. “You don’t have to help her out, you know.”
“I’m looking forward to it. She’s got get-up-and-go. I suspect this might be her way of trying to get reassurance, too, before she heads off to college with her funky outfits and semi-outrageous personality. You can be different … and still make a difference.”
Whoa. Awkward silence. They looked at each other, and then they both burst into laughter.
“Now that was plain purty,” Harrison said.
“Shut up, you cave man.”
They exchanged a bro hug, and Vince headed back to the construction site, whistling “Dixie” as he walked.
Harrison retrieved his father’s guitar and put it carefully in the car trunk. His emotions were already tied in huge knots, and now they were practically strangling him.
Road trips—even road trips from hell, as this one would surely be—called for MoonPies and Twinkies from the gas station and the Eagles on his iPod. Maybe while he was stuffing his face and singing “Take It Easy,” he’d forget about the empty seat next to him, the one that still smelled a little bit like a vanilla ice cream cone dipped in sass.
Maybe he’d finally move on.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“It’s called The Damn Yankee!” Carmela crowed. Then she thumped her fist on the table for good measure. “What do you think?”
True stopped chewing, embarrassed that the only thing on her mind was an image of Harrison naked above her, his hot, adoring gaze on hers.
She and Carmela were at the Starfish Grill. Harrison had left three days ago, time enough for her to recover from their insanely memorable coupling and focus on the fact that any day now, she’d be a bride.
Mrs. Dubose Waring. Mrs. Dubose Waring. Mrs. Dubose Waring. She said it it in her head all the time now, including with every bite of her lunch, to avoid thinking of Harrison. Reading didn’t help, either. She’d tried but got nowhere. And of course, she couldn’t get anywhere near her studio without thinking of him.
“I think…” She looked up at the ceiling, over at Roger, the busboy, working diligently to clean a table, and then back to Carmela, who was biting the side of her hand, waiting for her response. She was thinking of Harrison’s face when he’d told them his genius plan for Gage’s trailer. “I think it’s a genius idea.”
“I do, too!” Carmela grinned broadly.
True felt guilty, but what could she do?
“Gage is brilliant,” Carmela said. “No one around here wants any more Pat Conroy bobbleheads or Charleston dish towels, right? But they might want something ‘from off.’ And who knows ‘from off’ better than I do? I’m the town’s resident damn Yankee, and now I can say ‘you guys’ whenever I want! I’ll have Boston brown bread kits, New England clam chowder, soy candles from Cape Cod, and a whole travel book section on New York.”
Mrs. Dubose Waring, True said in her head, to help her put aside that image of Harrison’s profile looking at the super moon. “It’s going to be so great.” She took her friend’s hand and squeezed. “And do you think it’s time, ’Mela?”
Carmela’s happy expression disappeared. “No,” she whispered.
“I think you should,” True said softly. “It’s not exploitative. It would tie in with your shop’s theme. Your father would be really proud of you for including him in your plans this way. He was a hero. All the guys from his fire station in Queens were. Maybe … just maybe, if you let go of being afraid, you could honor them in some way at the store.”
Carmela stared at their laced hands. “I know.” She looked up. “But it’s so hard to talk about 9/11 to people these days. I’m not looking for pity.”
True chuckled. “No one could ever pity a strong person like you. They might come up and thank you for your father’s sacrifice, however.”
Carmela smiled. “That would be incredible.”
“Yes, it would.” True released her hand. Mrs. Dubose Waring. “Have you told Gage about your dad?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Well, I hope you do. Soon. Things going well there?”
“Really great. It’s so weird how we click. I get him. And he gets me.”
True put her fork down and leaned forward. “I’m so happy for you both.”
Carmela took her hand this time and squeezed it. “And I’m happy for you. Are you happy for you?”
True hadn’t talked to her about Harrison. It still felt too raw. “I’m doing well,” she answered carefully.
Mrs.DuboseWaringMrs.DuboseWaringMrs.DuboseWaring.
“Oh, hon.”
Tears instantly sprang to True’s eyes at Carmela’s tender tone, but she wouldn’t look up. “I’m doing the right thing,” she said, blinking them back. “That other situation—it can’t happen. It won’t happen. So I have to get on with my life.” She took a discreet sip of water to get rid of the lump in her throat.
“Okay,” said Carmela. “I won’t push. But just know this. I’m here for you, no matter what. It’s too soon to say what’ll unfold between Gage and me, but I have to tell you—there’s something different about this relationship. It feels deep and honest already. I feel like a grown-up. I think—”
She looked carefully around, and they both caught Roger listening.
“Go away, please, Roger,” True chided him gently.
“All right.” He glowered. “But don’t expect any refills on water or tea.”
Carmela waited for him to shuffle away, then they both giggled.
“I think I’m falling in love,” Carmela whispered. “And it’s made me see that nothing is bigger than love is. Not Gage’s quirkiness, or his OCD, or my trust issues with any man who’s not my father, or my Yankee accent. Nothing. It truly frickin’ does conquer all.” She stood and tapped the table with her index finger. “You remember that, True Maybank.”
“I will.” True forced herself to smile. “Where are you going?”
Carmela lifted and dropped her shoulders. “Nowhere, actually.” She laughed and sat down again. “I just got so inspired.”
“I appreciate that,” said True, chuckling.
And she really did.
Pre-wedding jitters. Pre-wedding fling. She knew all about both. She could write an informative, tell-all article—anonymous, of course—for one of the bridal magazines. She clung to the hope that when she saw Dubose again, her love for him—because that had to be what it was—would smack her in the face as an obvious truth, and she’d come out of this silly, worried mode.
Love conquered all.
Over the next day or so, she kept recalling that speech of Carmela’s. Whenever she thought about Harrison—which was night and day—she’d replace his face with Dubose’s. And whenever she looked at her new BMW sedan, which she hadn’t driven yet—not until she was married—she thought about how Dubose had so thoughtfully purchased it for her. And if she looked at the tomato fields, she’d remember how Dubose had promised to help her keep Maybank Hall’s U-pick operation thriving even after they got married.
She wouldn’t think about what she and Harrison had done in that field.
The only problem with her strategy was that it didn’t work. So by the time Dubose called, she was a wreck.
“Mom and I are arriving on the same afternoon flight from LaGuardia to Charleston,” he told True on the phone.
“That’s convenient.”
“Yeah, well, she asked me to delay coming home a day so I could sit on the plane with her.”
“You’re a devoted son.” Although a devoted fiancé pining after his woman would have taken a flight yesterday, especially as Penn was a seasoned traveler.
“I’ll drive her home first,” he went on. “She’ll be pretty jet-lagged. And then”—his tone got distinctly amorous—“I’ll come see you.”
“What?”
“Remember our promise.”
“Damn. You’re really going to make me wait? I’ve been working my ass off here in New York, barely stopping to eat and sleep. Some TLC will do me good.”
“Sorry. But I have to ask, Dubose, have you thought about whether some TLC would do me good? Does that matter at all?”
“Of course it does. What’s gotten into you? Wedding stress? Maybe you need some Xanax. Lots of the partners’ wives take it.”
“No, thanks.” She ran her hand over her hair. “I just wish—”
“What?”
“That we wouldn’t fight.” Her heart felt sore. And vulnerable. She wanted a bubble bath and chocolate. And she wanted her mother. Yes, Helen Maybank had been selfish and too worried about appearances, but she’d still been her mother.
“It’s pre-wedding jitters,” Dubose said. “That’s all. Hey, since we’re sticking to these rules, I’ll wait to see you tonight at Mom’s.”
“Dubose, I made you supper. I’ve got so much to tell you about the wedding.”
“Save all that girlie stuff for tonight. Mom will want to hear it. Her housekeeper is making us an early supper. We’re eating at six.”
“But I baked your favorite chicken-and-wild-rice dish. I was hoping we’d watch a movie.”
“Tomorrow night, maybe. Although, wait—that’s my bachelor party.”
“Tonight was going to be our only chance to really hang out together—”
“Freeze the casserole, True. We’ll eat it after we’re married. Problem solved. Now stop fretting.”
That was exactly what she’d been doing, ever since Harrison came back into her life.
Before she left for Penn’s, she heated up the casserole for Gage, Weezie, and Carmela. She’d done a lot of thinking that afternoon. Her infatuation with Harrison had been just that. She’d forgive herself her romantic nature, which was intertwined with her artistic one, and let the memory slip away. Dubose was real. Here. In Biscuit Creek. She could make a life with him, and she’d make sure it was a good one.
Sweet Talk Me Page 27
