The Night the Lights Went Out

by Karen White

  Merilee sighed. “Colin, really. You need to stop now. That doesn’t belong to you.”

  Tucking the frame under her arm, Sugar took the glasses from Colin. “She’s right. They don’t belong to you. Where are your manners?”

  She was sorry she’d spoken so harshly even before the little boy’s face crumpled and Merilee bent down to place her arm around him. Merilee looked up, her eyes flashing. “You’re right, he shouldn’t be touching things that don’t belong to him. And I’m sorry for allowing him. But you could have said it more nicely.” Merilee pulled Colin up and he buried his face in her side.

  Sugar found herself in the rare position of feeling the need to explain herself. “Those were my grandfather’s from the First World War, and then they were Jimmy’s. They were his most favorite thing. It’s a small thing, I know. But seeing someone else with them was almost like losing my brother all over again.” She swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

  Merilee’s eyes were bright as she hugged her son. “David, my brother—he collected Legos. He always had a fistful of pieces and the little Lego people. Even his pockets bulged with them. He had so many toys, but he loved them the most. I saved a few of them after he died and I always think that if my house ever catches on fire, and I know the children are out safely, those are the first things I’d save.”

  Their eyes met in mutual understanding of loss and regret and the debris of their interrupted childhoods. Sugar looked away first, unwilling to form an attachment that would break sooner or later. They always did.

  “I’m missing my show,” Sugar said stiffly. “Thank you for the groceries.”

  Merilee’s face matched the look of hurt on Colin’s, shaming Sugar to her core. But not enough to ask them to stay.

  “You’re welcome,” Merilee said. She began leading Colin to the front door, but she paused as the boy ran back to replace the jar in the drawer, even though Sugar had said he could keep it.

  Sugar sat down on her sofa long after the front door had been shut quietly behind them, holding the field glasses in her hands, trying to keep them from trembling.

  Seventeen

  MERILEE

  Merilee took a turn off the main road where an old farmhouse crouched on pilings, its foundation having been removed along with the horses in the pasture and the white ranch railing fence that had once surrounded the farm. It was almost like looking at a once-distinguished old man who’d been stripped of his dignity and was forced to stand naked and exposed, like he’d done something wrong.

  The brand-new brick signpost announced what was happening behind the old house and felled trees: THE MANSIONS OF SWEET APPLE. She’d never paid much attention to all the development going on around her, always too busy with her job and the kids and Michael. But since meeting Sugar Prescott, she had a whole new perspective on what all the new development might mean to the older residents who remembered what it had once been like.

  Merilee paused for a moment as a long truck laden with tall Georgia pine trunks lumbered past her. She remembered a time from when she was small and her grandfather had taken her to his favorite fishing hole, only to discover that the surrounding landscape was so altered, he couldn’t find it. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. There’s no bringing it back. She looked at the gaping holes of Georgia clay that would soon become the foundations for new homes, thinking they resembled deep wounds more than progress.

  She’d been unsuccessful reaching Wade on his cell phone and had called the office number on his business card. His secretary had explained he was on a jobsite that morning and then happily told Merilee which one. Since she passed it every day on the way to and from work, she figured it would be better asking him in a place where he’d be easily distracted and perhaps not notice her embarrassment or abject humiliation. She’d been under the delusional assumption it would be easier than asking him over the phone.

  She picked up her phone and dialed his cell number one last time, waiting until it had rung enough times to go to voice mail before hanging up. With a resigned sigh, she pressed her foot on the gas and moved forward to two construction trailers parked at the edge of the site. Two men wearing jeans, collared shirts, and white hard hats stood next to the trailers with a partially unfurled paper, one man pointing at it and then gesticulating toward where a backhoe was slowly digging another large hole.

  He looked up as she got out of her car, feeling self-conscious in her skirt and blazer, then found herself smiling in response to Wade’s own smile as he began walking toward her.

  “Merilee! Now, this is a surprise. Did Sugar send you to sabotage my site?”

  She frowned. “No. Would she want me to?”

  He shrugged. “This was Willa Faye’s old homestead. My mother was born here.”

  Merilee’s gaze turned toward the house, its white clapboard siding now fully exposed to the sun, without the shade of the old-growth trees. It reminded her of an old high school classmate of hers who’d walked to the front of the class to give a book report with the hem of her skirt inadvertently tucked into the waistband of her underwear, her wide backside visible to everyone. Merilee couldn’t even remember the girl’s name—only her nickname, “Daisy.” But she remembered the skirt incident and how she and her friends had laughed. It haunted Merilee with shame every time she remembered it. And now the exposed siding on the house made her wonder if the house might be feeling the same kind of embarrassment.

  “Wow. What a way to thank a family home for its years of service.”

  Wade frowned. “Maybe you shouldn’t be spending so much time with Sugar. For the record, I’m moving it to another piece of property I own a couple of miles down the road. I’m going to restore it and then live in it. It’s in really bad shape now—needs a completely new roof and there’s a bit of termite damage. If it stays here, it will disintegrate and be lost forever. Even Sugar thinks I’m doing the right thing.”

  “My apologies.” She smiled up at him, loving the way his eyes turned up at the corners like he was always secretly laughing at something. She was still trying to think of a way to bring up the subject of the gala when the man Wade had been speaking with called out.

  “Hey, Wade—while you’re talking, I’m going to check out that new backhoe you have over there. She’s a beauty.”

  “Come here for a second, Bill. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  As the man approached, Wade said, “I want you to meet an old friend of mine—the one whose grandparents are from Sandersville. He happened to be in town on business and wanted to drop by one of my construction sites to find out the secret to my success.”

  Merilee considered for a brief moment pretending she hadn’t heard him and making an excuse to leave before she realized that she’d never be able to walk far enough away from her past. It was always there, lurking in the shadows. So she turned slowly, squinting more than the sunlight required.

  “Merilee Dunlap, please meet Bill West. Another developer who wishes he’d thought to buy up land in north Fulton County when I did.”

  They shook hands and Merilee did her best to smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  “It’s always good to meet friends of Wade’s. He always knows how to pick ’em. Well, with a few notable exceptions.”

  Wade elbowed him. “Now, now. Be nice.”

  Bill grinned. “So, you know Heather.”

  Merilee glanced over at Wade, wondering why she and Heather might have been a topic of their conversation. “Yes, she’s a friend of mine. Through the kids’ school.” She wasn’t positive that was true, but she hoped that by saying it, it would make Bill stop talking.

  He chewed on his lower lip. “Then I’m not saying a word. I just knew her when she was dating Wade. When she was still a nice person.”

  “Watch it,” Wade warned.

  Bill held up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll stop.”

 
; Merilee wondered at the use of the past tense, but before she could say anything, Wade said, “So, doesn’t Merilee look familiar to you? I swear I know her from somewhere but can’t place her. Maybe you can. Of course, you sowed a lot more wild oats than I ever did in my misspent youth, so maybe you’ve got fewer brain cells than I have.”

  “Ha,” Bill said before turning to study Merilee. She continued to squint and smile, trying not to make it obvious that she was holding her breath. “Yep. Definitely looks like someone I should recognize. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking that I should know so many beautiful women that they all start to run together.”

  Merilee exhaled, feeling the sweat roll down her spine beneath her jacket.

  “Right,” said Wade, slapping his friend on the back. “You let me know if it comes to you. Go check out my backhoe and make sure you tell me how jealous you are.”

  “Nice to meet you, Merilee,” Bill said, tipping the rim of his hard hat as he left.

  Wade turned back to her. “I saw you called me a bunch of times on my cell. Sorry I couldn’t talk—it’s been a crazy morning already.” He crossed his arms. “So, what can I help you with? Is there a problem with the cellar doors? Or the shelves?”

  “Oh, no. They’re both fine. Really. You did an amazing job on the shelves—you finished them off just beautifully. You’re a real craftsman.”

  “Is this about the army trunk in the cellar? I called Sugar and she had no recollection of it.”

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said—about there maybe being ammunition or rifles or something dangerous in there. I just don’t like the idea of my kids—or anybody’s kids—snooping around and breaking a lock. If you could ask Sugar if it’s okay to open it, then we probably should,” she said, her smile now plastered on her face as she realized that the time had come. She mentally kicked herself for not waiting until he’d called her back on the phone.

  “So . . . ,” he prompted.

  “So . . . yes. Well, there’s this gala fund-raiser at Windwood. Heather is the committee chair and she asked that I head up the auction committee.”

  “No, I’m not giving anybody free land, if that’s what you’re here to ask for.”

  “No, not that—unless you really want to. I, um, she’s putting me at the head table with her and Dan, and when I told her I was planning on going solo she said that wouldn’t work because then she’d have an uneven number of chairs as well as the girls-to-boys ratio at the head table. Personally, I don’t see a problem, but clearly it’s an issue for her.”

  He was scrutinizing her closely now, apparently now anticipating her question and enjoying her discomfort. “Clearly,” he said.

  “So, having absolutely no interest in bringing my ex-husband, mostly because it would be awkward explaining it to his pregnant girlfriend, I brainstormed with Heather for somebody else who might want to come as my escort.”

  “Go on,” he said, enjoying himself immensely.

  She swallowed, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “And, she, um, we, thought that maybe if you were free that night—the twenty-ninth of October—and had any interest in going, that maybe you could sit at my table.”

  “And be your date.”

  Merilee shook her head vigorously. “No. Not a date. My escort. A table filler.”

  “You make it sound so appealing, and it’s obvious that you want me badly.”

  She sighed and closed her eyes briefly. “No—that’s not how I meant it. It’s just that I don’t want you getting any ideas of, well, you know. You-and-me-as-a-couple kind of thing. I’m sure you don’t consider me in that way, and to be honest, I’m still getting over my husband and our nasty divorce and have absolutely no interest in dating anyone right now. Maybe never.

  “And I thought I should mention that Heather wants us to sit at her table, with her and Dan. I know it might be extremely awkward, so I wanted you to know up front, and I will completely understand if you say no.”

  He smirked. “What was between Heather and me was practically a lifetime ago. I’m completely over it, and sitting at a table with her and Dan won’t bother me at all.”

  She felt enormously relieved for some reason. “That’s very good to know.”

  “So you want to date me. For this one night.”

  “I guess, if you want to put it that way . . .”

  “Then, yes. I’d love to go. Text me the date again so I don’t forget and I’ll get it on my calendar. I even own a tux, so that’s already taken care of.”

  She raised an eyebrow in surprise, and then found herself blushing again as she imagined him in a tux.

  “Great, then. Thank you. I’m sure I’ll see you between now and then to discuss details.” She glanced at her watch. “And I need to get going. Traffic’s a nightmare this morning and I really don’t want to be late for work.”

  “All right. I’ll see you later. Thanks for the invite.”

  She smiled and said good-bye, then started to walk away.

  “Merilee?”

  She turned.

  “Don’t assume that I haven’t considered you-and-me-as-a-couple kind of thing.”

  Without another word, he turned to join his friend, leaving Merilee too flustered to move for an entire minute.

  • • •

  Merilee looked up from her computer, where she was working on the ad layout for Stevens & Sons’ holiday extravaganza and promotions. Seeing as how they usually did about thirty percent of their business in the month of December, it was imperative that their party was successful in showcasing all the blingiest bling that might be considered an appropriate Christmas gift for a spouse, loved one, or mistress. She tried to unthink that last one, but every once in a while, the whole Michael-Tammy thing reared its ugly head in her subconscious, with interesting results.

  “Come in,” she called when she heard a knock.

  The door opened and she was surprised to see Gayla Adamson, their top sales associate. She was short and slim, with overprocessed blond hair and enthusiastically plucked eyebrows. She had a reputation among the other salespeople as being a bit of a vulture, but Merilee had never had enough experience with the sales force to know if that was just jealousy talking or if it had some root in the truth. Regardless, it was odd to see her in her office.

  “Can I help you with something?”

  Gayla didn’t smile. “Daniel Blackford is here asking for you. I must admit I was a little surprised, seeing as how the Blackfords have been clients of mine for years.”

  Merilee slid her chair back. “Oh, please don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get this commission. I’m doing this as a personal favor for Heather just this one time. When it’s time to complete the sale, I’ll come and get you.”

  Gayla still looked miffed. “I just don’t know why Heather didn’t ask me. I always help her with her selections. She even called me yesterday to let me know he’d be coming—just like she always does. Except Daniel says he only wants to deal with you. I’m just confused, I guess.”

  “That’s odd—I don’t know why Heather would have called you. But I’m sorry—I really am. Actually, I didn’t even know the Blackfords were clients here or I would have asked who their salesperson was. It’s just a—I don’t know—favor-for-a-friend kind of thing. Just a onetime deal. And if she suggests doing this again, I’ll tell her that you are more than capable of helping her, as she well knows.” Merilee smiled, trying to be ingratiating and friendly. From what she’d heard about Gayla, she figured there was a chance she’d walk out to the parking lot and find four flat tires on her car. Or a pipe bomb in her desk.

  “Fine. Should I show him in? He said he’d like to speak with you in private first.” She raised a skinny eyebrow, showing Merilee what she thought of the whole idea.

  “Oh.” Without thinking, she put her hands to her hair and her gaze to her top desk drawe
r, where she kept her lipstick, neither action missed by Gayla.

  “He’s married,” Gayla hissed as she left the office, leaving the door slightly ajar.

  Merilee took a deep breath to compose herself before Daniel appeared in the same spot Gayla had just vacated. “Dan. So nice to see you again.” And it was. Not just because he was nice to look at, but also because she genuinely liked him and enjoyed his company. Still, she stepped behind her chair just in case he wanted to kiss her cheek in greeting. As Gayla had so helpfully pointed out, he was married, and Merilee was overly sensitive about stepping over that line. After what she’d been through in her own marriage, she wasn’t interested in having any misunderstanding, whether it was warranted or not.

  Dan closed the door behind him, sending Merilee an apologetic smile. “Sorry—I don’t want Gayla overhearing. She and Heather always work together, so I’m sure her nose is all out of joint about this. I just want to let you know that I know this isn’t your usual thing, and I appreciate you taking the time with me to select the right gift.” He grinned, a real grin that reminded her of why he was called “Danny” by those who knew him well. “And I’m so relieved that I don’t have to work with Gayla. I think all she cares about is her commission and not about finding the right piece. It gets my goat every time.”

  “I understand—and it will go no further than this room.” She headed around the desk on the opposite side from him to get to the door. “I asked Heather about her preferences and had some time this morning to pull a few things I thought might work. I’ll let you be the judge, of course.”

  She turned the knob, falling backward as the door refused to open, as she pulled and it slipped out of her grasp. He caught her by the shoulders. “You should try weight lifting,” he said.

  Despite her embarrassment, she grinned. “Yeah. I think it’s the door—I can’t tell you the last time I shut it. It must have warped or something.”