by Annie Jones
“The name was Carol, dear.”
Blind date, ex-lawyer, dated for almost three years, Dixie thought then squeaked out, “Carol?”
“Thanks, Aunt Sis.” Was it Dixie’s imagination or did Riley sound just a bit too happy when he said that? “Did she give you any other message?”
Dixie set her analysis of Riley’s reaction aside and honed in on Sis’s response.
“No, I thought you could just pick up your phone up here so I didn’t ask if she wanted to leave one.”
“If she has anything really important to say to you, she’ll call back, Riley. I know I would.” Oh, dear. That came off snippy and quite superior even to her own ears.
Riley, however, did not notice. Dixie knew this because he’d already dashed into the room, plucked his wristwatch and car keys up from the worktable, and was on his way somewhere.
“I’m not going to wait for her to call back. It’s too, um... busy here to take the call anyway I think I’ll scoot down to the main office and call her.”
“Oh, you’re going downtown?” Dixie tugged her ball cap off in a flash. “Mind if I tag along?”
“Uh...um...” Riley blinked at her as he wrestled the silver watchband over his hand and in place on his wrist. “I thought you had work to do here?”
Her? Stay here and wallpaper his daughter’s room for him like some sorry Southern version of Cinderella while he went off and made contact with his old girlfriend on the phone in her daddy’s old office? Not very likely.
No jealousy. Just Friends. Her own rules came back to haunt her. She hushed them up as she whipped the rubberband right out of her hair, shook her hair onto her squared shoulders, and smiled. “I’m at a good place to take a break. Besides, I needed to go downtown today.”
“You did?” Aunt Sis’s hair listed to one side as she cocked her head. “What for?”
“I can’t tell you what for Aunt Sis,” she said through a locked smile. “It’s...a surprise.”
“A surprise? What for?”
“I can’t tell you because it’s an irthday-bay urprise-say for Miss Ettie-lay.”
As she suspected it would, that shut Sis up while she tried to decipher the code.
Riley laughed and stuck out his crooked elbow. “Well, all right, hurry up then if you’re coming. But before we go anywhere together I have to add another stipulation to our ground rules.”
Dixie slid her hands around his arm and fell in step beside him. “What’s that?”
“No more pig Latin out of you, young lady.”
“Why? Because pork rinds are a Southern aphrodisiac and Latin is one of the romance languages?”
“Did anyone ever tell you, Dixie Fulton-Leigh, that you are a troublement? Pure and deliciously simple, a troublement?”
“I do my best.” She smiled at him and kept on walking. Riley would never know the irony she felt at having finally found something she was impossibly good at—caring about him with all her heart—and knowing it was the one thing she’d promised she would never pursue.
Chapter Fourteen
“So, just what kind of birthday surprise do you expect to find for Miss Lettie in this place?” Riley’s keys rattled as he opened the door to the upstairs office that had once been John Frederick Fulton-Leigh’s domain.
His first two weeks on the job, Riley and Dixie—and even Fulton, a time or two—had worked here alone or together, filing, learning the ropes, separating the old ways from the new and the plans from the realities. Then Riley had noticed Dixie was spending more time downstairs on the sales floor of the outlet store or running errands for the family, always at the ready for anyone and everyone whether at work or home.
She kept informed on all the day-to-day goings-on of the business but really had very little to do beyond signing papers, going over financial information, and attending a couple of meetings a week. That was all her part of the businesses required. Riley’s end of things required more hands-on and paperwork to keep up with state and federal regulations, union requirements, upkeep on the vehicles, and much more. Still and all, it was the kind of work that kept to a tight schedule and, barring emergency, left him weekends and evenings free to spend with Wendy, Momma and...well, anyone else he might care to spend his time with.
Fulton no longer needed to come over, but he remained a mere phone call away. So John Frederick’s office, simply because Riley came in to work there every day, seemed to have become his domain.
He pushed open the door and stood aside, allowing Dixie to step in ahead of him. He really did not care why she wanted to come up to the office with him instead of sticking to her first, adorably weak story of simply needing to come downtown over something regarding Lettie’s birthday plans. Deep down, he liked having her here with him when he returned Carol’s call. Having someone else in the office with him would provide a built-in excuse for not talking too long if his ex-lawyer, ex-not-quite-girlfriend had only called to chat. If Carol called for some other reason...
But what other reason could there be? He tossed his keys onto the large desk and moved around to the leather chair behind it. If it were anything else, Carol knew to contact Fulton. She hadn’t spoken directly to Riley since his move more than a month ago.
Still, he didn’t mind ribbing Dixie a little about her almost transparent excuse to eavesdrop on the conversation between him and the woman he had once dated. “I don’t believe I caught your answer, Dix.”
“What?” She jumped like a cat catching a glimpse of itself in a mirror.
“What did you hope to find here for Miss Lettie’s birthday? If you’ll give me some idea, maybe I can help you locate it.”
“Well, actually, it’s...um...” She moved her hands as if indicating the four sides of something small and square.
“A box?” He held in the urge to chuckle as he began opening desk drawers, then slamming them shut as if searching in earnest for the object. “You’ve hidden a gift box in here?”
“No, it’s really more of a...” She waved her hands like a person describing a cloud or something large and fluffy. The whole time her gaze darted around the room.
“More of a—” he mimicked her motion to a T—”A wig? A pillow? An enormous mound of freshly sheered sheep’s wool?”
“No! More of a...a...” Her gesture got bigger.
“I’ve got it.” He stopped his swirling hand motion all together and snapped his fingers. “A thinly veiled excuse for getting up into my office and listening in on my phone call to Carol!”
“A concept!” Somehow, she managed to sound both insulted and caught red-handed. “I wanted to come up here to see if anything struck a chord and helped me come up with a new concept for Lettie’s birthday All right?”
“A concept and a clandestine conversation. Lucky you.” He dropped down into the chair, grabbed up the phone receiver, jabbed in Carol’s home number, then kicked back and placed his new tennis shoes on the corner of the desk. “You’ve come to just the right place to find both.”
She gave him a look that could have blistered a stone.
Riley laughed out loud. No petty priss-and-pout routine for this gal, no sir, She did not play those games to try to persuade or manipulate him. She did not pretend to be something she was not to get what she wanted from him. Did she know, he wondered, that in refusing to do just that she had gotten to him in ways no other woman ever had?
The phone rang for the fourth time in his ear.
“For your information, I really do need to come up with a new concept for Miss Lettie’s birthday present.”
“I believe you.” The fifth ring...the sixth.
“And as for your conversation with...what’s her name, I...I have to admit, I’m dying to know what she wants.”
“Well, looks like you may have to linger on your deathbed a while longer.” He hung up with one finger then methodically pressed in the number of Carol’s workplace. “Because she’s not answering her cell. She doesn’t usually go into her office on Saturdays,
but I’ll give her a try there, just in case.”
“If you want me to, I’ll leave.” She didn’t so much as shift her eyes toward the door.
“Naw, no reason to. You go right on looking for your birthday concept. I don’t mind the company.”
Dixie began to work her way around the room. She seemed totally unaware of him, or of the way the sunlight lit her face to warm the color of her lips and reveal the finest of lines beside her beautiful eyes, the evidence of how readily she shared her smile. She walked the length of the bookshelves, a study in contrasts, with her ever-present pearl necklace peeking out from beneath the man’s work shirt and the overalls that skimmed her figure in a singularly feminine way.
She turned her head then moved toward something across the way, her hand trailing slowly over the low credenza as she went.
Riley could watch her all day. Just watch and wonder what was going on in the complicated brain of hers. And wish—
“Foster Law Office, Mindy Nelson speaking. How may I help you?”
“Oh, hello, Mindy, this is Riley Walker. Is Carol there? I’m returning her call.” He heard Carol’s administrative assistant explaining something on the other end of the line but his attention stayed with Dixie.
She paused to look up at a dusty, stuffed pheasant perched on a glass shelf over the green-curtained windows.
“Sure, I’ll hold.” Riley lowered the mouthpiece. “What do you know, she’s there, but she’s on the other line. I’m holding.”
“That’s nice.” Dixie sounded distracted, as if she could care less. Still, she did manage to meander over to stand and stare at the pictures hanging on the wall just to the right of the desk, the side nearest the phone.
Riley did not think for one moment she expected inspiration to spring from the pictures she must have all but memorized in her lifetime of coming to this office. He made a quick study of the rather eclectic display of work-related and family photos that looked to represent generations of relatives. “You know, since the reunion with Fulton seems iffy and writing Miss Lettie’s life story isn’t panning out, maybe you could do a scrapbook of some kind. Your family seems to have a lot of photographs.”
“Yes, and Miss Lettie has seen them all so many times, too. I don’t see how I could make that come as much of a surprise.”
Riley nodded his head, even though Dixie wasn’t looking at him. He sat back in the chair, his legs still up. His good mood had him jiggling one foot in rhythm to the cloyingly upbeat showtune of the “on hold” music. “Hey, what about something like that?”
Dixie turned first to him, then to face the large painting of the family home that dominated the paneled wall directly opposite the desk. “Riley Walker, you are a genius!”
He leaned back further in the chair. He didn’t even try to pretend her enthusiasm didn’t please him. To be a hero in Dixie’s eyes, even in some small way, just meant too much to him, made him feel too good. “Commissioning someone to do a painting of something meaningful for Miss Lettie is a good idea, I admit, but genius? I don’t know about that.”
“Forget the painting!” She rushed forward.
The song on the other end of the phone ended, then another one, every bit as annoyingly peppy, began. Riley didn’t give a hoot, not about the wait, the music, or even that Dixie hadn’t embraced his idea. Just being here with her, watching her light up and leap into action, lifted his spirits more than he’d ever imagined possible.
Up on her tiptoes, Dixie seized the painting with both hands and lifted it easily up then off the wall. “Behind this thing is Daddy’s wall safe!”
“Wall safe? What—”
“It’s where Daddy kept old family jewelry, military medals, a few old papers. I’m not sure what all, but there might just be something in here. Something that belonged to my mom or my grandmother or even my great-grandfather that Miss Lettie might just love to have for her own.”
“Do you know the combination?” Riley squinted at her fingers nimbly working the large black-and-white dial.
“I should. It’s my birthday. Ten.”
The dial whirred and clicked into place.
“Twenty-eight.” She flexed her fingers like some kind of safecracker then glanced over her shoulder. “I think I’ll keep the last number to myself, if you don’t mind.”
“I never figured you to be vain about your age, Princess.”
“Vain? Ha! Look away, please.” She waved her hands like someone shooing away a curious child. “It’s enough you’ve moved into my house and taken over Daddy’s office. I’d like to have one place that is designated Riley-free, even if it is just a tiny hole in the wall, thank you.”
“You planning on crawling in there whenever you need a break from me?” He chuckled, but averted his eyes as she’d asked. “‘Cause if you are, I think we’re going to have some wallpaper left over after doing Wendy’s room. You might want to use that to cozy up your new home away from home.”
“Thank you, the Martha Stewart of wall-safe interior decorating. You’re not peeking, are you?”
He heard a final spin, then the handle turning and Dixie wrenching the door open. “Can I look—?”
The music from the phone clicked off mid-note. “Mr. Walker, I can connect you now.”
“Open Sesame! The Fulton family secret vault is now open for business!”
“Hold it a minute, Dixie, Carol’s on the line.” He tipped his chair back and played it up big for Dixie’s sake alone. “Carol! Great to hear from you. I’m sorry we crossed wires before but you’ve got my undivided attention now. What can I do for you?”
“Riley, I had a phone call today that you need to know about.”
He sat up. “That sounds serious. What—”
“Marcia called me.”
His feet hit the floor with a thud. Suddenly the game was over. Reality had intruded, hard and unforgiving, into their lives. And it had brought with it the promise of reconciliation—either that, or the threat of tearing everything he truly cared about to shreds.
* * *
“Marcia? When? What did she say? Where is she?”
“Marcia?” Dixie turned, and the look on Riley’s face confirmed she had heard what she thought she’d heard.
“Yes, I...Fulton Summers? When?”
She reigned in the impulse to rush over to him. If the shoe were on the other foot and this were about her family matters, she would want space and time to gather all the information she could and to deal with it as she saw fit. She held her breath and started for the door.
“Stay.” The single whispered word riveted her in place. “Dixie, please stay, I won’t be long.”
She nodded.
“I see.” Riley’s brow creased. His shoulders sagged. He rubbed his eyes. “Did she give any indication—”
Reluctantly, Dixie turned her back to him to grant him some privacy. She went through the motions of taking things out of the wall safe, though her excitement for the adventure had waned.
One by one, she removed each item, making a mental note of it as she did so. Three large flat boxes...those would be war medals for Grandpa, Daddy, and Young Bobby. All three had served their country with pride and valor. Next came a battered, accordion-style expanding file held closed with Daddy’s trademark red rubber bands. Dixie knew it held Daddy’s greatest earthly treasures: love letters from her mother and handmade cards and pictures drawn by Dixie as a child.
She pulled out a cream-colored jewelry box with her mother’s gold embossed monogram on it. Dixie inhaled deeply. The box still smelled of Mama’s perfume...Dixie had spilled an entire bottle in the blue, satin lining. The last item was something she’d never seen before. Who knew how long it had languished in this safe. A memento, she supposed, a token bearing her great-grandfather’s name that told anyone who saw it what her family truly valued most.
A family Bible. That she hugged to her chest.
“Yes, I understand. I know.” Riley’s voice was stretched so taut he sounded ho
arse. “You did the right thing, Carol. Thank you for calling.”
Dixie wondered how long she should wait before she faced him. She did not want to trespass on a moment of intimate reflection or exposed emotion, but she also did not want to seem insensitive to his pain, confusion, or even relief in finally hearing from his sister after so long.
“Guess you figured out that Carol heard from Marcia.”
At the soft words, she turned, the newly discovered Bible still pressed tightly over her heart. “I thought so. Do you want to talk about it?”
“I wish I knew what to say. Apparently, Marcia saw one of the ads we ran and called the sawmill. Red Braden had the foresight to refer her to Carol and not give out any of my personal information.”
“So your sister doesn’t know how to reach you?”
“That’s not because I don’t want Marcia to find me or Momma or even Wendy. You know that, don’t you?” He looked at her as if it mattered to him that she not think the worst of him. “I’m not hiding from her and I’m especially not hiding Wendy from her.”
“You’re protecting Wendy.” Dixie stepped forward. “I know I’m not a parent, I may never be a parent, but having spent so much time with Wendy I can certainly understand the inherent need to shelter and protect her from things that could hurt her. Her mother just showing up unannounced on the doorstep—or worse yet at her school, where none of us is there to intervene—is one of those potentially harmful things.”
“Marcia would never hurt Wendy” He put his hand in his head. “Of course, she has hurt Wendy by her absence, and my biggest worry is that she’d hurt Wendy by disappointing her, by coming into her life then running off again, that kind of thing. But Marcia would never try to kidnap her or turn her against Momma and me or do her physical harm.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“I’m sure. After all, what would be in that for Marcia? She doesn’t waste her time and energy on things that don’t produce direct and immediate gratification for her.” He gave her a dead-on glare, but his expression and tone carried pain and weariness. “Just the same, I am thankful she has to go through Fulton before she finds me. At least that gives me some control over where and when she sees Wendy again.”
