Birds of a Feather (Sunday Cove)

by Webb, Peggy

  Mary Ann closed the door on her family. “I’d love to hear her wiggle out of that one.”

  Bill’s arm came around Mary Ann’s shoulders. “Does the dress have fangs, Mary Ann?”

  “Yes. It keeps away ardent birders and amorous CPA’s…and you can quit laughing like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “With wicked glee.”

  It was impossible not to join his laughter, and equally impossible to wonder how a man who had never been to Sunday Cove could drive right to Clara’s Café without even asking directions. Bill was not the kind of man to leave anything to chance.

  Clara herself met them at the door, tipped off, no doubt by Judy. Tall and elegant, she looked nothing like a prototypical owner of a hometown restaurant.

  “Emma told me there was a new man in town to visit our Mary Ann. I’ve saved the best table in the house for you.” She escorted them to table with a view of the Gulf that featured a picture-perfect moon sending sparkles across the dark water.

  Mary Ann wouldn’t put it past Judy and Clara and Emma to have rigged the whole romantic scene. Furthermore, Clara had dragged her potted citrus tree all the way across the restaurant and stationed it right by Mary Ann’s table. Though there wasn’t a single waxy white blossom on the tree, the scent of orange blossoms was so strong it formed a mist that shrouded the table.

  Or maybe Mary Ann was just overwhelmed. Maybe she had actually gone home, fallen asleep on her bed and was dreaming.

  “Dinner’s on me tonight.” Clara winked at them. “The house special.”

  “What’s the house special?” Bill asked after Clara left.

  “I have no idea. There is no house special. There’s no telling what Clara is concocting.”

  “Everything smells good.” Bill reached across the table for her hand. “Like orange blossoms. Is it a perfume you’re wearing?”

  “Probably.” She had put on perfume, but just a little dab behind her knees, and definitely not citrus.

  “It’s intoxicating.” Bill closed his eyes a moment, and Mary Ann could swear she saw white petals floating around him. He shook himself, like a man coming out of a trance. “Tell me, who is this Emma?”

  “The post mistress. She has eyes in the back of her head, and she can put a Tennessee license plate together with my recent birding retreat and come up with a flaming romance between us.”

  “I like her already.”

  “In spite of her nosiness, she’s a sweetie. But for all you know, I could be a screaming shrew.”

  “You’re warm, lively, intelligent, and gorgeous. You have character and guts and a sense of humor. That’s all I need to know. I love you, Mary Ann.”

  “Bill, I don’t know why you keep saying that when I don’t say it back.”

  “Shh. Don’t say anything else.” He let go of her hands and settled back into his chair.

  “Why? I’m not finished.”

  “Food’s coming.”

  Clara herself brought their dinner, steaming platters of fried shrimp and stuffed crab paired with mounds of whipped potatoes dripping in butter and corn on the cob and slaw so delicious Mary Ann could eat her weight in it.

  “Eat up! I have seconds if you want it. And apple pie for dessert.”

  “Thanks, Clara,” Mary Ann told her, and then watched as Bill charmed her with his own special brand of magic. Harvey had never tried to charm anybody unless he saw that it was to his advantage.

  Immediately contrite for thinking of the dead in unflattering terms, she attacked her stuffed crab as if it might fight back.

  “I think it’s already dead,” Bill said, deadpan.

  “It never hurts to be sure.” She forgave herself for unkind thoughts of Harvey and settled back to enjoy food as only Clara could prepare it. “How did you manage to get away from your job, Bill?”

  “My partner is handling the accounting firm while I’m here.”

  She wasn’t going to mention to Judy that he had his own firm. Her mother would build a whole empire out of it.

  “For how long?”

  “As long as it takes to convince you to marry me.”

  “It won’t change anything, Bill. Why don’t you just go back to Mountain City tomorrow and save yourself some time?”

  “I’ll take the risk. You’re worth it.”

  “The affair is over, Bill.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

  She looked up, startled. “You do?”

  “A long time ago what we had between us became more than an affair. Much more.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t say that, Bill. We agreed—”

  “I never agreed to your terms. Remember?”

  She certainly did. Every word, every gesture, every moment spent with Bill in the Smoky Mountains was crystal clear. She let her gaze travel around the room, avoiding Bill’s eyes. Everywhere twosomes were chatting brightly or holding hands or simply eating in companionable silence. The couples looked right. She wondered if she and Bill looked right, like a couple.

  Lifting her wineglass to her lips, she took a thoughtful sip. Across the table from her Bill was every bit as wonderful as she remembered. She also remembered that in all their time together in the woods he had always been caring and sensitive to her moods, qualities she knew she could depend on.

  “Please don’t pressure me. Bill. You’re very special to me, but I don’t want to rush into a marriage that...” She almost said that will end like Harvey. She took a deep breath and continued. “That I will later regret.”

  “I can be a very patient man, particularly when I know my patience will be rewarded so handsomely.” He winked at her.

  Bless him for turning a somber conversation into light-hearted banter. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that reward if I were you. I can be a very stubborn woman.”

  “I like stubborn women, especially stubborn women with dimples.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  Or maybe it would. Maybe she was being stubborn and scared and turning down the best thing that had ever happened to her and her boys. Fortunately, Clara brought the pie and Mary Ann didn’t have to think about anything except the tender crust and the way fresh apples always made a pie taste better.

  After they’d finished, Bill left a huge tip then veered over to thank Clara and brag on her cooking. With his arm around Mary Ann’s waist, he led them into a hot night. Even the stars seemed to add to the heat. Mary Ann lifted her long hair with one hand to any chance breeze coming off the Gulf.

  What she got, instead, was a kiss on her neck from Bill. And not just a little peck, either, but a full-blown erotic nuzzling that left her weak at the knees. “You promised not to pressure me.”

  “A kiss is pressure?”

  “One like that is.” She disengaged his arms and walked to his car. “My mind gets jumbled when you hold me like that and I can’t think straight.” He opened the door and she slid across the seat. “I don’t want to be rushed into anything as important as marriage.”

  “I told you I’m a patient man. I’m betting on our love.” He turned the key in the ignition and the car purred to life.

  In the eerie yellow glow of the streetlights Mary Ann had the feeling that she was caught up in a dream. Nothing about her relationship with Bill seemed real, from their unusual affair to this sudden courtship.

  How could he be so sure that she loved him? She didn’t even know that herself.

  “No more sex, Bill.”

  “What?”

  “I said—”

  “I know what you said.” He reached across the seat and caught her hand. “Don’t you know that just being with you is enough?”

  Relieved, she leaned her head against his shoulder.

  “You’re a pretty good man—for a bear, that is.”

  His laughter was deep and rich in the closed car, and she tingled with pleasure all the way down to her toes.

  “I’m going to be the best bear you ever saw,” he said. “I�
��ll make myself so indispensable you’ll wonder what you ever did without me. I’ll be so loyal and faithful and true, you’ll do the proposing.”

  “I don’t marry boy scouts, Bill,” she said, laughing.

  “What about bears?”

  “Not bears either.”

  “I’ll make you change your mind.”

  o0o

  And he set about trying to do just that. During the next week he took Mary Ann and the boys to picnics to the beach. He played bridge in the parlor with Judy and softball in the backyard with the boys. He demonstrated his expertise at the grill and his handiness with a dishcloth. He was sought after by the boys as a bedtime-story teller and by Rover as a champion Frisbee thrower.

  Judy, who considered cooking one of the labors of Hercules, kept the kitchen fragrant with the aroma of homemade apple pies and yeast breads and German chocolate cakes—all for Bill. When he was nearby she blessed him with her neon-light smile, and when he was absent she sang his praises to Mary Ann.

  Mary Ann watched the whole thing with a skeptical eye. He was great with her boys. A natural. But that didn’t spell wedding bells to her. Judy doted on him, but she didn’t have to make a life- changing choice. Rover worshipped him, but Rover was just a dog.

  Mary Ann looked hard for Bill’s warts, but she didn’t find any. As far as she could tell, he didn’t even snore. She tossed and turned in her lonely brass bed every night and wished she had never heard of Bill Benson. Then she immediately took that wish back and wished he were lying there beside her.

  On Sunday she arose from her bed bleary-eyed and grouchy from lack of sleep. If Bill stayed another week, she’d have to marry him just so she could get a good night’s rest. She slipped into her robe and slippers and flopped grumpily down the stairs.

  The kitchen smelled like orange-pecan coffee cake.

  “Mother! For the love of Pete. What are you doing up so early on a Sunday morning?” Mary Ann poured herself a cup of coffee and sloshed it on the sleeve of her robe. “As if I didn’t know.”

  “Bill’s coming for breakfast, Mary Ann,” Judy said, swinging around from the bowl of eggs she was beating. “Good heavens, dear. Surely you have something sexier than that old rag?”

  “If Bill wants to barge in here at the crack of dawn on Sunday morning, he can take what he gets.”

  “Is that any attitude to take toward your future husband? My dear, when your father and I were dating, I always dressed my prettiest for him.”

  “We’re not dating, Mother.”

  “It’s the finest courtship I’ve ever seen.”

  “Rats!” Mary Ann said.

  “Did I hear someone call my name?” Bill said, poking his head around the corner of the kitchen door.

  “Don’t you ever knock?” Mary Ann was furious at herself for wanting to gobble him up the instant she saw him.

  “Hello, Little Mary Sunshine.” For an instant she thought he was going to kiss her. She almost puckered up. If he kissed her, she’d scream and if he didn’t, she’d explode. True to his word, he had not so much as touched her since their dinner at Clara’s Café. One long, long week ago.

  He didn’t kiss her and she favored him with a vicious scowl.

  “I have a present for you,” he said. He placed a small gift-wrapped package on the kitchen table and sat down.

  Mary Ann picked up the ring-sized box. If he had bought her a ring, she’d bop him over the head with the coffeepot. Her fingers fumbled with the ribbon.

  Inside the box were two bone china miniatures, a tiny brown bear and an adorable skunk. She smiled with delight. Bill, her bear, and the skunk, a reminder of their day in the forest glen.

  “They’re precious, Bill. How did you know I collect them?” She held the animals in the palm of her hand and let the early morning light wash over them.

  “I saw the collection in the den. Judy told me they were yours.”

  “Mother!”

  “Well. He asked.” Judy shoveled eggs onto their plates and took a pan of fresh coffee cake from the oven. “Really, Mary Ann. You’re as suspicious as old Mr. Frumpett at the corner market. Always thinking somebody’s bruising his lettuce.”

  “How could anybody accuse an angel like you of bruising his lettuce?” Bill asked, flashing a fond smile at Judy.

  “Well, I do pinch it every now and then just so he’ll have something to grumble about. He does so love to grumble. Have some fresh coffee cake, Bill.” She handed him a big slice.

  “It smells great. You’re spoiling me, Judy.”

  “I’ll say.” Mary Ann had meant to snap, but the china bear in her palm had the most adorable smile she had ever seen. Her words came out dreamy instead of snappish. With infinite care she placed the bone china figurines in the center of the table.

  “You are staying to go to church with us, aren’t you, Bill?” Judy inquired. “The boys have talked about nothing else since you told them you were coming today. They can hardly wait to show you off. They’ve already told Bev McLendon’s boys that you’re going to be their daddy.”

  Bill grinned at Mary Ann. “That’s right.”

  “Nobody has said yes.” She glared at him over a hunk of coffee cake.

  “Somebody will,” he said.

  Judy was looking from one to the other, her eyes dancing. “I’d better tell Reverend Fitwiler to get ready for a wedding.”

  “Mother, would you please stop encouraging him? How many ways do I have to say no?”

  “Stop glaring, dear. You’ll get wrinkles.” Judy turned her attention back to Bill. “Have some more coffee cake, Bill. She doesn’t mean a word of it.”

  Before Mary Ann could think of a scathing reply, Mitch burst into the kitchen with Rover at his heels.

  “It’s Mikey. He’s stuck in the tree.”

  “Oh, no. Not again.” Mary Ann rose from her chair. “That makes three times this week already.”

  “Four,” Bill corrected her. He gently pushed her back into her seat. “Drink your coffee, Miss Grumpy. I’ll handle it.” He caught Mitchell’s small hand in his. “Come on, Mitch. Let’s rescue your brother.” The kitchen door banged shut behind them.

  Judy turned to Mary Ann. “He’s wonderful, Mary Ann. Surely you don’t mean to let him get away?”

  Mary Ann sipped her coffee and stared at the kitchen door that had closed behind Bill and her son.

  “I don’t want to get married again, Mother.”

  “If you don’t marry Bill, I’m going to marry him, myself.”

  “Get serious, Mom.”

  “Okay. How’s this for serious? Harvey’s standing in the way, isn’t he?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe…” She’d loved him and she believed he’d loved her, at least at first; and then it had all gone so wrong. “Or maybe it’s just because I’ve finally made a life for myself and the boys, and I don’t want to mess around with the dynamic.”

  “Just like your father. Stubborn as a post.” Judy poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. Sounds of laughter came from the backyard. “Just look at them out there. If ever I saw a man meant to be the father of those boys, it’s Bill Benson. You love him, don’t you?”

  When Judy crossed her arms like that, she meant business. Mary Ann’s gaze fell on the china bear smiling in the sunshine, and she didn’t once think about lying to herself or her mother.

  “Yes.” She had loved Bill for a long time, probably since the bird-watchers’ retreat.

  “Then what are you waiting for?”

  Mary Ann stared at the laughing bear and the comic skunk, and Bill’s exasperated words came back to her.

  “A brass band, I guess, Mom.”

  Chapter 12

  Mary Ann bolted upright. What was that loud racket? It sounded as if the boys were tearing the house down.

  She glanced at her bedside clock. Still half an hour before it was time to get up and go to work. That loud raucous noise was giving her a headache. Or maybe it was a residual one left over from her conversatio
n with her mother yesterday.

  Even with her ears covered, she could still hear the noise. What was going on? The boys were never up this early. She risked uncovering her ears long enough to grab a robe.

  Good grief, it was trumpets! She flew to her window and threw it open. There was a brass band on her lawn, tooting like crazy. The brazen notes of “Dixie” shattered the hot summer air.

  Bill, that stubborn madman, was on one knee gazing up at her window, his hands crossed over his heart.

  “Are you crazy?” she shouted. “You’ll wake the whole neighborhood.”

  “They’re going to play until you say yes, Mary Ann.”

  “Stop that noise immediately,” she yelled down.

  Judy appeared beside her at the window. “Oh, my goodness. The band is here.”

  Mary Ann turned to her. “This was your idea?”

  “I can’t take all the credit. But I’ll take my share.”

  “Good grief, Mom. You’re shameless!”

  “Well, somebody had to do something. This house has smelled like a citrus grove ever since you got back from birding. I figured if a legend that powerful didn’t work, it was going to take something more.”

  “Something more just hit a sour note.”

  Even Mary Ann, whose singing voice had been compared to that of a chipmunk, knew a flat note when she heard one. Still, there was Bill, kneeling in her front yard with dew on his shoes and a smile on his face.

  Judy waved at him. “Bill, I think it’s working! I’ll get the engagement party rolling.” Humming “Here Comes the Bride,” Judy hurried off.

  “Come back here, Mom! You’ll do no such thing.”

  Judy never even looked back. Outside, the brass band was still honking and blaring in off-key enthusiasm. Mary Ann ripped off her nightgown and pulled on a strapless aqua sundress then fumbled around under her bed for her shoes. She found one and limped around in the dark looking for the other.

  Outside, the band was blaring “Won’t You Come Home, Bill Bailey?”

  She ran to the window and shouted down, “Now, stop that.” Her lawn looked like a county fair. Neighbors wrapped in bathrobes and housecoats had converged in her front yard.

  “Good grief.” She flew out of her room and down the stairs, one shoe on and one shoe off. In a titanic panic she burst through the front door.