Sweet Talk Me

by Kieran Kramer

  He didn’t know.

  But there was one thing he could do that would alleviate some of his stress. He’d try to catch her at home before she got to the store and talk to her in private. If he got there early enough, he could sit at the table with her and Weezie and eat breakfast. He hoped True would make that oatmeal again, the kind she got all excited about. And maybe he could ask to see her copy machine, and when they were in the attic, he’d …

  He didn’t know.

  Add new toner to her copier machine? Jump her bones? Get down on one knee and declare his love? Sing her a song called “Miss Priss,” which he hadn’t even written yet?

  It wasn’t much of a plan. But at least he’d gotten her as far as the attic. Although maybe he should do some bewitchin’ in the kitchen instead …

  “Damn,” he said out loud when he locked the house behind him and threw his bag in the car. He had a revelation. He’d do all of the above, starting with the toner and ending with the song.

  Because being in love wasn’t for sissies.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  “So are we going to look for a boarder again?” Weezie asked True two days after the wedding was supposed to take place. They were outside collecting eggs.

  “I guess so,” True said. “Why not?”

  Weezie stood straight. “We’ll be fine without Dubose.”

  “Of course we will.” And in her heart, True believed it. They had their U-pick operation. And if she could sell a collage here and there, that would supplement their income. Of course, her big hope was that she’d be able to sell a lot of copies of one great print to an art broker … something that would hang in hospitals or hotels or offices around the country.

  “You act happier when you’re not around Dubose,” Weezie said.

  “I am.” True closed her hand over a warm brown egg and put it in her basket. She missed Harrison, but she felt good. She’d decided to stop chasing security so much and take more risks. She was an artist out in the open now. She had Weezie, Carmela, and Maybank Hall. She even had the town of Biscuit Creek behind her. At the impromptu art show party she’d thrown, she’d learned that very few people could tolerate Penn, which was understandable. But she was shocked to hear that an awful lot of folks never managed to get excited about her and Dubose as a couple.

  “He’s town and you’re country” was the general consensus.

  Only one person appeared truly regretful that they didn’t marry: Mr. York, a local developer. “It’s a shame, darlin’. We coulda made a fine neighborhood on your back property. But if you’re still interested, let me know. I’ll bring the plans right over.”

  “Mr. York”—her hands were shaking—“I didn’t know a thing about this plan of Dubose’s.”

  Great balls of fire, did Mr. York’s face turn red!

  “And I’ll never sell,” True had told him, “so please don’t get your hopes up.”

  The day was going to be gorgeous, perfect for the ribbon cutting of The Damn Yankee. She found another egg. And then another. “The chickens are happier, too,” she told Weezie. “They’re laying more eggs.”

  Her life wasn’t over, not by a long shot. That feeling of sadness about Harrison would dissipate someday, she hoped. Maybe when she was fifty? Or sixty? Surely by then, she’d lose her longing for him.

  Which meant she only had twenty or thirty years to go.

  Sweet grandmother’s spatula. Who was she kidding? He was the love of her life. She’d never get over him. At least she could Google him to see what he was doing. There were women out there who weren’t as lucky, who lost track of the “one who got away.” True could watch tapes of him, listen to him sing …

  It would be utter torture. Her vision got a little blurry, and she sighed. “I’m going in now to cook the oatmeal.”

  “I’ll be there in a little while,” Weezie said. “I’m going to clean out the coop.”

  “But it’s my turn.”

  “I know.”

  True smiled at her sister. “Thanks.” She’d grown up so much. “Weezie—”

  “Yes?”

  True inhaled a deep breath. “I think you should move into that apartment this semester, after all. Get the real going-away-from-home experience from the start.”

  Her sister’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.” True clenched the egg basket. “You’re ready. I’m going to be so proud to see you thrive.”

  “Oh. My. Gosh.” Weezie had tears in her eyes.

  So did True. “Don’t drop the eggs!” She walked over and kissed her sister’s cheek. “See you in a few.”

  She had just finished stirring the oatmeal when the front doorbell rang. Maybe it was Carmela or Gage come to get the treat bags of Coney Island saltwater taffy that she and Weezie had made up the night before for the ribbon cutting. Gage still had his stuff here, but the last two nights he’d spent at Carmela’s. True turned off the burner and put down her spoon.

  When she saw who the visitor was, her face flamed, and her hands instantly began to sweat. She opened the screen door only partially.

  “True.” Dubose’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re looking well.”

  She wouldn’t acknowledge his compliment. “Hello, Dubose.” She held tight to the door handle. “Why are you here?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you inside.”

  Hmmm. She did mind. But she didn’t want to be rude, either. The Warings and Maybanks were still neighbors. And she and Dubose had a long history together. They didn’t need to turn this into something ugly. “Come on in.”

  She gave him a small, polite smile, but she absolutely would not invite him to breakfast. They headed to the kitchen, and she sat at the table. “Please take a seat.”

  He did, stiffly.

  Something in his eyes scared her. He didn’t look like the Dubose she’d been engaged to. This was the attorney before her.

  “I have a favor to ask,” he said.

  She felt the need to gain the upper hand. “I’ll be happy to entertain it, but first I have to tell you that I don’t appreciate your going behind my back to Mr. York and discussing a sale of my back property.”

  He did flinch, but just barely. “He approached me. It was only a chat over coffee.”

  “He’d drawn up plans.”

  “Overeager, I’d say. That’s not my fault.”

  “I don’t care how informal the discussion was,” she said. “It was wrong to hold it without me. That’s all I want to say on that matter.” She folded her arms across her chest. “What’s this favor you need?”

  He smiled again.

  Phony, was what she thought. And not just the smile. How could she not have recognized that before?

  “We talked about Weezie the other night,” he said, “the fact that she’s likely my half sister.”

  “Wait.” True stood and looked out the window. Weezie was still out at the coop, thank goodness, so she resumed her seat. “She doesn’t know anything about that, and for now I’d rather it stay that way. She’s about to go off to college. She doesn’t need any shocking news.”

  “That’s an extremely wise judgment,” said Dubose.

  “It suits our situation, anyway.” She felt a little uncomfortable with the effusive praise.

  From his back pocket he pulled out a sheaf of papers. She hadn’t realized he was carrying any.

  “In fact,” he said, “I’d be really grateful if you could sign these. Feel free to look them over. It’s pretty straightforward. All they are is a promise that you Maybanks”—wow, already she was part of the “other” family—“won’t try to sue my mother and me to gain a portion of my father’s estate.”

  True felt ill. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

  “No.” He shrugged. “I’m protecting the family. I would have done the same for you had we married. So don’t go casting judgment, please.”

  “But you don’t need to protect yourself against me or Weezie. That�
�s … that’s crazy!”

  His mouth thinned. “It’s why I’m an attorney and you’re not. It’s not crazy at all. Plenty of people would try.”

  “But we’re not plenty of people. We are still your neighbors and friends. We’re not interested in your money.”

  “You’re not?” He drew in his chin. “You sure seemed willing to use it to fix up Maybank Hall when you were going to marry me.”

  True colored. “That’s different. You’d have lived here, too.”

  But it was too late. He’d thrown it out there … that she’d been after his money.

  “I obviously wasn’t a gold digger, if that’s what you’re implying.” She strove for patience. “I broke off the engagement, didn’t I?” She pushed away from the table. “I’m not interested in signing your papers, but you have my word. We will never sue your father’s estate. Let’s live in harmony, Dubose. Biscuit Creek’s a small town.”

  He stood, too, and tossed the papers on the table. “You’re forcing me to play hardball. I’ll give you ten minutes to look them over. And if they’re not signed, I’m going outside to tell Weezie she’s my half sister.”

  True’s temples pounded. “That’s so needlessly cruel. If and when I tell her, it will be at a time I decide is appropriate. And quite frankly, with the way you’re behaving right now, I don’t know that I want her to find out she’s related to you.”

  “You have nine minutes,” he said.

  “All right.” True grabbed the papers, her hands shaking, and sat back down. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

  “Here’s a pen.” He sat back down, too.

  She grabbed the writing instrument unceremoniously from his hand and kept reading. It was all gobbledygook legalese. She had to pray he wasn’t going to cheat her somehow. “How do I know you won’t try to blackmail me again?”

  “I’m not interested in anything else from you. I can have my pick of Charleston’s beauties anytime.” He paused. “New York ones, too.”

  She nearly gasped. “What do you mean by that?”

  “You’ll never know, will you?” His eyes were hard. But amused.

  Bastard. All those late nights he’d texted her about? Those long silences on the phone when she thought he’d been watching sports?

  “Boy,” she said, not taking her eyes off his, “did I ever make the right decision. I guess you’re right. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, after all.”

  “Touché.” He looked at his elegant watch. “Six minutes,” he reminded her coolly.

  True read faster. She wanted to cry, but she didn’t dare.

  “Stop it, Sister.” Weezie’s angry voice came from the entrance to the hallway. “Throw those papers away.”

  True looked up and saw her sister, her face white and stricken. She must have circled the house to drop a bucket off near the barn and come in through the front door.

  “Shit,” Dubose muttered.

  “Weezie, honey—” True began.

  But Weezie was on fire. She pointed to the back door. “Get out of my house, Dubose Waring. I don’t care if I’m related to you or not. You’re mean. You’re fake. And you took advantage of my sister when she was scared and lonely. I never want to see you on our property again.”

  The dogs must have gotten her message because suddenly they all started to bark.

  “Now settle down, Weezie.” Dubose pushed George’s and Ed’s heads away. But as soon as he did, Striker, Skeeter, and Boo barked at his feet. “I only wanted to make sure you wouldn’t sue—”

  “Shut up,” Weezie said. “Just shut up and leave right now before you make me really mad!”

  “Goddammit, True.” Dubose’s face was beet red, his mouth an ugly snarl. “Talk some sense into her.”

  “Leave now,” True said quietly. “You’ve only come here to cause tremendous strife. I’ll forgive you someday, Dubose, if you remain a polite neighbor, but for right now, I’m seriously irritated with you, to the point that”—she grabbed her egg basket from the kitchen table—“I just might start throwing eggs.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  Weezie came up to her and grabbed two.

  “Back door, please. Not the front,” True said pleasantly. “You can take the long way around, escorted by the dogs. And maybe Phred, the rooster. He’s in an ornery mood today. We let him out of the coop to work it off. Watch out—he loves grabbing ahold of people’s calves with his spurs.”

  Dubose narrowed his eyes at them. “Thank God I didn’t get saddled with you two.”

  Weezie pulled back to throw the egg, and he ran out the back door.

  “Hahaha!” she called after him. “Coward!”

  They watched him skedaddle out of there, and then True drew her sister back into the kitchen. “Give me those eggs,” she said.

  Weezie obeyed.

  True put them in the basket, and before she’d even turned back around, Weezie was sobbing hysterically.

  “Daddy’s not my father?”

  “Of course he is.” True hugged her tight. “In all ways that matter.”

  Weezie cried.

  And cried.

  True soothed her as best she could. “Who took you on his knee every day? Who bought you that red bicycle you wanted?”

  “But another man slept with Mama,” Weezie wailed.

  “Daddy knew all about it”—True rubbed her back—“and he forgave her. You were his daughter. He was your father. You were precious to him and Mama both. Nothing will ever change that.”

  She reached over to grab a kitchen towel and wiped Weezie’s nose.

  For the first time in three minutes, Weezie took a break from sobbing. “There was a secret about me. A really big one.” She inhaled a shaky breath.

  True smiled gently. “I know—crazy, huh? And you’ve been trying to find out everyone else’s.”

  Fresh tears came.

  “I thought about telling you later,” True said, “but I wanted to think about it first. I didn’t want this to happen, right when you’re going off to school.”

  Weezie used the towel on her eyes. “I’m glad I know.”

  True pulled a lock of hair from her face. “Are you going to be okay? I know it’s a shock.”

  Weezie didn’t answer, then she said, “How long have you known?”

  “Since I was about eight. I didn’t know all the details, however.”

  “And you kept that secret all these years?”

  True nodded.

  “Wow.” Weezie shook her head. “I had no idea we had secrets in this house.”

  “Well, it didn’t change a thing about how anyone felt about you. Look at us. We’re sisters forever. We’re Maybanks. And no one can take that away.” She led her to the kitchen table and kissed the top of her head. “Sit here, and I’ll make you some cocoa. I don’t care that it’s hot outside. It’s your favorite drink.”

  They spent half an hour together. True hoped Weezie wouldn’t suffer much adapting to her new reality. She hated change more than most people. But nothing had changed. Not really.

  Damned Dubose.

  They laughed together about threatening to throw eggs at him.

  “If only Harrison had been here.” Weezie she started to cry again.

  True’s throat tightened. “You can tell him all about it on the phone.”

  “He’d have kicked Dubose’s ass.” Weezie sounded wistful. “Don’t you miss him?”

  True looked into her now empty cocoa cup. “I do.”

  “Do you love him? Tell me the truth, please. No more secrets, okay?”

  True sighed. “All right. I do.” It was sad, but she couldn’t afford to get that way. She grinned and added, “‘I love him like crazy, Ma.’”

  “Moonstruck.”

  “Yep.”

  “I love him, too,” said Weezie. “Like a brother.”

  “I’m glad. He loves you, too.” True looked at her watch and tried to forget that Harrison had rebuffed her on the phone. It was t
oo painful to think about. “You think you’ll be up to going to the party? We’d need to leave in forty-five minutes so we can help set up.”

  Weezie nodded. It was shaky, but she was a real trouper. And she remained that way when they got to The Damned Yankee. Gage was arranging Reubens on several large platters, lining them up just so.

  “Great job, Gage.” True’s heart quickened when she saw him. He was her friend. But he was also Harrison’s brother.

  “Thanks.” He barely looked up, but his tone was warm.

  Carmela hugged her. “We’re making Vermont floats, too.”

  “Is that what Roger’s doing?” True asked. He was setting up some kind of station beneath a tree on the sidewalk in front of the store. “Weezie’s out there helping.”

  “Yes,” Carmela said. “It’s milk, real Vermont maple syrup, and a scoop of vanilla ice cream.”

  “That sounds fabulous.” True looked around at all the new merchandise. “I have a great feeling about this, ’Mela.”

  “Me, too. I put a big ad in the Charleston paper. I dedicated the opening to Dad and his friends. And I mentioned that we had three special guests coming for the ribbon cutting from the same station. So maybe we’ll get a few people in. And look at this.” Carmela took her to a wall and pointed.

  “Oh, my gosh. Who did this?”

  Carmela had tears in her eyes. “Gage did. It’s perfect, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” It was a beautiful plaque naming the firemen from Mr. Sherman’s station who’d been lost on 9/11 at the World Trade Center. On one side of the plaque was a picture of all the guys from that time, and on the other side was a picture of Carmela with her father on their apartment house doorstep. She was about eight or nine.

  True hugged her. “This is so special.”

  “Thanks.” Carmela smiled. “The guys from the station are supposed to be here any minute. They’re so young, their early twenties. Isn’t that sweet that they came all the way down here?”

  “So sweet.” True wasn’t going to tell her anything about her morning. That was news for another day.