Linny's Sweet Dream List

by Susan Schild

  “About four years now. I was a principal with the Wake County school system, and when I retired, I decided to move out here. It’s so pretty, and quiet.”

  “Did you know I grew up out here?” Linny pointed in the direction of her Mama’s house. “Next farm on the other side.”

  Her eyes were bright with alert intelligence. “I did hear that. I’ve met your Mama. I invite her to these cookouts, but she stays awful busy with church.”

  Linny nodded, running out of questions.

  Margaret led her to the kitchen. “We have iced tea, beer, wine, or soft drinks.”

  “Wine, please,” Linny said, too enthusiastically.

  Pressing a glass of wine in her hand, Margaret said, “Come meet everyone.”

  Linny’s smile wobbled, and she wondered if she looked as spooked as she felt. She took a sip, fighting the urge to guzzle and quell her anxiety.

  “They’re a friendly bunch.” With her own wine glass, Margaret gestured toward a wiry brunette with a megawatt smile. “Sarah is a librarian.” She tipped her head toward a group lounging around the center island in the kitchen. “Bobby owns the hardware store in Bynum, James and Elsie teach high school, and Claudia is a bookkeeper.” She pointed through the kitchen to a door. “A bunch of folks are out back, too. Frankie and Lil own Earth and Sea, the market in town. Lil’s the one with the amazing red hair.” She put two fingers to her forehead and looked chagrined. “Can’t think of who all else is back there, but they’re all nice folks.”

  Based on the animated faces and easy laughs of the guests, they all seemed to know—and like—each other. Right now, Linny didn’t have the guts to be the gregarious outsider. “I’ll start back there.” The butterflies in her stomach revved up their wing speed.

  Margaret gave her an understanding smile, and gently pushed her toward the door. “They won’t bite.”

  Fortifying herself with several gulps of wine, Linny slipped out to the back deck and made a beeline for a white wicker chair, set slightly apart from the other chairs. She liked her space, but secretly she wished someone would come talk to her.

  From her spot, several people nodded at her or gave friendly waves. A towering Pin Oak shaded the deck, and stand-up fans generated a cooling breeze. Bluegrass music emanated from small speakers mounted on the deck, and Linny’s butterflies slowed down. From the backyard, Linny saw a group pitching horseshoes and smiled when she heard a man call to another man, “Next time, bring your A-game, Sally.”

  On the side of the yard that abutted her trailer’s property line, Linny spotted several colorful out buildings. Intrigued, she walked toward the end of the porch and saw a general store and a post office, both built on a miniature scale. Beside them was a cottage built as a tiny replica of Margaret’s house. Linny gazed at the tiny buildings, enthralled.

  A woman with a Shirley Temple mop of carrot-red hair appeared beside her and sighed dreamily. “The miniature village is magical, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” Linny agreed. “I grew up next door, and if these houses had been here then, you couldn’t have pried me away from them. Are they kids’ play houses?”

  “Margaret says the last owner was an indulgent grandfather who built them for his granddaughters, but she’s using the general store and the post office as chicken houses.”

  “I’m right next door and I’ve never heard chickens.” Or smelled them, she thought, relieved. “I’m Linny, Margaret’s new neighbor.”

  The redhead stuck out a hand and grinned. “I’m Lil Carmichael.”

  As Linny shook it, she remembered the bagged lunch Kate had brought her. “My sister, Kate, says nice things about you. I had the most delicious sandwich from your store the other day.”

  “I love Kate and Jerry.” With a friendly grin, Lil answered her questions about the market. “Tell me what you do for work.”

  “I’m in Human Resources,” Linny said, glad she’d rehearsed it in her head beforehand. It wasn’t technically a lie. That had been her field, sort of.

  Lil nodded, looking intrigued. She cocked her head, and began to speak, but Margaret poked her head out the door and called out loudly. “Supper’s ready. Help yourselves.”

  Whew. Close call. Guests milled about them on the way inside, and Linny gave Lil a bright smile. “It was nice meeting you.”

  “Nice meeting you,” Lil said, and gave a little wave as she got pulled away by a friend who’d just arrived.

  Linny busied herself at the buffet table, even though she was not feeling particularly hungry. Her plate now heaped with food, she returned to her chair, wishing for company. There was something pitiful about eating alone.

  A deep-voiced man said, “Linny?”

  She smiled automatically, her mouth full of potato salad, and glanced up at a man with startling blue eyes and features so perfect that he was almost pretty. He grinned expectantly and, though he looked familiar, her mind stubbornly refused to give up his name. “Hey, there.”

  He smiled. “I’m Craig Lyman. I was in Kate’s class at school and ended up teaching at the same school as she did for a while.” He gestured toward the chair on her left. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.” She was inordinately grateful for the company.

  He sat, balanced his plate on the arm of the chair, and gazed at her. “You haven’t changed. You’re just as pretty as you always were.” His white smile faltered. “Darn it. I don’t know if I’m allowed to say things like that these days. Was that politically incorrect?”

  Linny grinned. “No harassment suit for that remark, I promise.” Craig was straight from the pages of the LL Bean catalog, where he’d have just brought in firewood or set up a tent. How had she not noticed him in high school? Cute boys were all she thought about then. Slowly, it came to her. Back then, Craig Lyman had a bushy head of hair, and an unfortunate complexion. That image made it easier to talk to him. “What are you up to these days? Still teaching at Westside Middle?”

  “No. I couldn’t stay in that profession and afford to pay for my kids to go to college.” He shook his head. “I’m a physician’s assistant now.” He cocked his head. “How about you? Do you have kids?”

  “No.” She shook her head, and when she felt a tug of sadness, reminded herself that she’d rather be childless than be a widow with a child to raise.

  He cocked his head, and blinked his fabulous blue eyes. “You must be married or divorced. I know you couldn’t have stayed single.”

  Linny thought about it. She couldn’t bear hearing one more gush of sympathy about a lost husband. “Officially, I’m single now.”

  Craig’s lips curved into a grin. “Great. I’m recently officially single myself.” His phone rang, and he held it up and smiled. “That’ll be my kids. I always talk to them before they go to bed.” He strode off to the quiet of the yard, pressed his phone to his ear and talked animatedly.

  Linny watched him. Craig was a cutie, but she was itching to get home. She’d say good-bye to him when he returned, and slip away. She’d done her part. She’d shown up, acted normal, and talked to two new people. Folding her still-full paper plate, she reached for her purse, and was startled when a big man folded himself into a chair on her right. In the growing darkness, Linny’s heart beat faster as she recognized the close-cropped hair and planed features of the vet.

  Jack Avery broke into an easy smile when he saw her face. “Hey, Linny.”

  “Hey, there.” Good grief, she was a honeybee for men tonight. She must be giving off some loneliness-inspired pheromone, or maybe her skimpy sundress was the siren song. Her heart fluttered, making it hard to breathe normally. She wasn’t ready for a conversation with another handsome man, especially not one who was blissfully married.

  He took a sip from his bottle of beer. “Hot out here.”

  “It is.” He wasn’t exactly greasing the wheels conversationally. Gratefully, she remembered The Golden Goddess Rule. “How do you know Margaret?”

  “I have a small farm just d
own the road.”

  Linny nodded. His vet practice was bustling every time she’d been there, and he farmed after his hectic day job? “You keep busy. Do you have animals, or grow crops?”

  “Animals, and the numbers seem to keep growing without my intending it to happen.” He shook his head and gave a wry smile. “At last count, I’ve got a small herd of Black Angus cattle, five dogs, three cats, six horses, and some chickens.”

  Intrigued, she leaned her chin in her hand and gazed at him. “How did you come by them all?”

  “The cats and dogs come from work.” Though his tone was even, his jaw tightened. “Some people, even ones with money, will put down an animal with a medical problem if it costs over a hundred dollars to treat.”

  Linny felt a burn of anger as she thought about dog kickers, cat abandoners, cheapskates, and selfish men. “Some people should be put down,” she announced, and felt her face flame, realizing how vehemently she’d spoken.

  But Jack just looked amused. “I agree.” He took a sip of beer. “So, anyhow, I fix them up, try to find them homes, and if I can’t, I keep them.”

  “Tell me about the horses. What kind do you have and what are they like?” When Linny was a kid, she’d read and reread Black Beauty and Misty of Chincoteague until the pages were soft.

  He looked boyish and animated as he talked about the horses, describing the relative merits of the different breeds. Linny watched him, and was pulled in by his warm enthusiasm and sparkling green eyes. She nodded at the right places, but she’d stopped listening. She was just enjoying the scenery.

  He finished up. “. . . and the quarter horse is a steady Eddie. Lots of common sense.” Jack rubbed his chin with his hand and smiled. “You’ve got me talking too much. How about you, Linny?”

  When he said her name, it felt like a caress. She shivered, and tried to hide it by crossing her arms. “What do you want to know?” she asked lightly.

  “I know you are helping your mama with a home improvement project and I know you tore up some carpet, but . . . I’m assuming you are mostly supervising because”—his eyes flicked over her earrings, and Hot-Cha-Cha nails—“for some reason, I can’t picture you swinging a hammer.”

  Once again, her eyes met his and locked for a beat too long. “I’m more of a crowbar girl these days, and I’m just getting started. But I’m not supervising at all, I’m the laborer.”

  “Good for you.” He looked impressed. “Renovation skills come in handy.”

  She had a hunch he thought she was remodeling a darling cottage, not fixing up a decrepit trailer. No need to enlighten him. Linny twirled her wine glass as she described the paneling demolition, enjoying his throaty chuckle, and reminding herself that the man was married. She looked around him, half-hoping the wife would show up and extinguish this small fire she felt when she talked with him.

  Glancing over his shoulder, his smile faltered. “Am I keeping you from something?”

  “No, no.” Linny liked him even more for his momentary lapse in confidence. She edged her chair away from his an inch or two.

  He regarded her. “What do you do for work?”

  “I’m in Human Resources.” She was getting good at this hedging.

  He whistled. “Managing people is the hardest part of my job. Somebody’s always mad at somebody, the back office thinks they work harder than the front office . . . Sheesh. Give me a sick animal any day.”

  “It can be hard,” she admitted. “I’m trying to . . . figure out something else to do.” She studied her sandals, wondering if he thought she sounded flaky.

  But he just nodded. “You’ve got to like your work.”

  She smiled at him tremulously, relieved.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “Jerry told me you’d lost your husband recently.” His brow knit and he wore a look of deep concern. “I’m real sorry.”

  Linny felt a wave of irrational irritation at having to go through this conversation yet again. Curse you, Buck, she thought, gritting her teeth. She gave an airy wave. “It’s fine. I’m getting through it just fine.” Oh, my. She’d practically sounded delighted.

  Jack raised a brow, and looked perplexed.

  She stammered, “What I mean is . . .”

  That moment, Craig loped up and called to her. “My ex-wife’s car won’t start and I need to run the babysitter home. Let’s do dinner, Linny, and—” He broke off mid-sentence when he saw Jack, but recovered. “Oh, hey there.” He held up a hand in a friendly wave, and turned back to Linny. “Anyhoo, talk to you real soon.” With a jaunty wave, Craig trotted off.

  Jack took a sip of beer, and looked off into the darkness of the yard.

  Linny flushed, aware she looked like the merry widow, but too embarrassed to explain her story to a man she barely knew.

  The vet uncrossed his legs and stretched. His voice was cool. “I need to head home, too. We farmers get up early.”

  At home, Linny tried to cheer herself up by taking a thick, black pen and checking two items off her list but it didn’t give her the sense of accomplishment that checking off usually did. She felt stung and stupid as she replayed the tail end of her conversation with Jack. What must he think? She shook her head. She’d been right about not being ready for prime time.

  Crooning sugar talk, Linny released Roy from his crate and let him outside. Sitting on the stoop of the trailer, she watched him dart around the yard and tried to make herself feel less lonesome by checking messages on her phone. When her cell rang, she was startled, but smiled when she saw Mary Catherine’s number.

  As usual, Mary Catherine rarely wasted time with hellos. “Lin, just got drafted to play in the Bar Association golf tournament. Haven’t played in two years. Come hit a bucket of balls with me tomorrow. Keep me from embarrassing myself.”

  Linny grinned. “Whacking some balls sounds like a great idea.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Hits and Misses

  Sunday morning, Linny heard tires crunch on the driveway and, peeking out the window, groaned when she saw it was her mother’s Buick. She’d been avoiding Dottie’s calls since she’d gotten let go on Thursday. Grabbing a robe from the hook, she ran her fingers through her tangled hair and swung open the door. “Morning, Mama.”

  “Good morning,” she called. Wearing a floral church dress and white sandals that Velcro-ed shut, her mother pulled several Tupperware containers from the backseat of the car, and mounted the steps to the trailer. Giving Linny a tight little smile, she handed her the plastic dishes. “I tried to call, but your answering machine must be broken.”

  Linny saw a flicker of hurt cross Dottie’s face and felt ashamed. “I’m sorry, Mama.” As she took the dishes, she peered more closely at Dottie and saw that her hair, which was sprayed into a helmet for church, was the color of blush wine. “Mama, I think Joseph made your hair sort of pink-ish . . .”

  “No, it must be the light. He gave me a new rinse called Champagne Dreams.” She patted a poof on the side of her head.

  Linny felt a wave of protective tenderness. “Come on in. You need to meet Roy.”

  As Dottie cradled Roy, she gave Linny her first unguarded smile of the day. “What a sweet boy,” she crooned, and lowered herself stiffly onto the couch with him.

  Linny grinned. “He is, isn’t he?” She sat beside her mother, crossed her legs, and enjoyed watching the two of them. Dottie lavished him with pats, and when she slowed, Roy butted his head against her hand insistently. “What did you bring me?”

  “Hamburger Helper, macaroni and cheese, and banana pudding.”

  “You’re good, Mama.” Linny was touched. Her mother had brought her comfort food. She paused, holding onto Roy’s warm paw. “You heard about the mess with work?” Linny braced herself. If Dottie swung into full church lady mode, offering platitudes about God never putting any more burden on a person than she could handle, or endurance-producing character, Linny might say something she’d regret.

  “Kate told me,” Dottie said evenly.
“If you’d given me the chance, I would have told you to let it go, like mud off a duck’s back.”

  Feeling a wave of relief at her support, Linny also fought a smile at Dottie’s mixed metaphor.

  Her mother bussed the top of Roy’s head, turned her faded blue eyes to Linny. “You’ll find another job, shug.” Her mouth tightened. “I was always telling your daddy that work was not the most important thing in life, but you couldn’t tell that man a thing.” She shook her head and patted Linny’s knee. “I just want you to be happy.”

  Linny felt a twinge of uneasiness at the criticism of her father at the same time she was reminded of how genuine and lovely her mother could be. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she grasped and squeezed her mother’s hand. “Thank you, Mama,” she said softly.

  Dottie patted her hand briskly and rose. “Off to church. If Hattie Burke douses herself with that strumpet perfume again this morning, I’m changing pews.” She shook her head looking exasperated, and gave a little wave as she headed for her car.

  At Tee Time’s driving range, Linny twice whiffed the first ball she tried to hit and then missed again. Red-faced, she glanced around, but no one seemed to have noticed. The man at the practice tee next to her took a powerful swing, but just grazed the top of the ball. It barely rolled off the tee. She suppressed a smile. At least she wasn’t the only one who hit like that. But as she continued to swing, memories came flooding back to her. She and Andy had liked going to the driving range after work. Wistfully, she remembered the warm summer evenings and the companionability of standing beside her husband as she hit balls. Andy always looked relaxed and graceful as he swung a club. He’d been Mr. Golf Team in high school and had coached her, “Keep your head down. Slow on the back-swing. Let the club do the work.” She imagined him coaching her now and, slowly, her confidence increased. She squarely struck the last third of the bucket. Though not long, her drives were straight. The thwack of a solidly hit ball felt as good as it sounded.