“You slut,” Dixie told Muffin affectionately, treating her to an extra rub between the ears. “You’ll hang out with whoever feeds you.”
Which reminded her of Andrea. Which brought her back to Kyle. A glance out the teeny-tiny window revealed Kyle marching toward the playhouse.
“What’s going on?” she asked when he came stooping in. If moving about the playhouse gave her cricks in her neck, she could imagine how difficult it was for him.
“I’ve been over to the house,” he said. “I needed to get clean underwear.”
“Speaking of your underwear, how is Andrea today?” She continued yanking up her jeans and reached for her top. She had to bend at the waist before she could get it over her head.
“I’m happy to say that Andrea has nothing to do with my underwear these days. This morning she can hardly talk. I’m going to the drugstore to get her an antiseptic spray for her throat.”
Dixie tugged the top down over her midriff.
“Is that really such a good idea, Kyle? Andrea won’t have any reason to go as long as you’re paying attention to her.”
“If she has medicine, she’ll get well faster,” he said.
“Kyle, it’s a well-known fact that you can’t cure a cold. All you can do is soothe the symptoms. I say we let her be so uncomfortable that she can’t wait to leave.”
“I don’t agree.”
“Then we have an honest difference of opinion.” She glared, but he ignored it. Even though she was annoyed with him, she had to admit that last night he’d pulled out all the stops. He was a wonderful lover, considerate and passionate, appreciative and skilled.
Kyle kept talking, as if filling in space with words would calm her misgivings. “I checked with the Magnolia Motel first thing this morning. They don’t allow pets. Andrea won’t be parted from Twinkle, I’m afraid. I offered to take care of him until she’s feeling better, but she won’t have it.”
“Bad idea, considering that Muffin and Twinkle hate each other,” Dixie muttered. She flung the door open and the brisk wind caught it. Gray clouds scudded across the horizon and a mist hung over the lake. The transplanted dogwood trees shimmered in the fog, their leaves pure silver. It had rained again last night, and puddles of water stood in the driveway. Kyle was right behind her as she started toward the house.
“I’m going to get dressed and go to work,” Dixie said, flinging the words back over her shoulder. This was her house, her property, and she couldn’t forget that Kyle was responsible for the usurper in their midst. Maybe not directly, but still. However, she couldn’t help taking pity on Kyle when they reached the back steps and she slid a surreptitious glance at him. Kyle was clearly a man under duress.
She softened her voice. “What’s your plan for the day?”
“I promised I’d walk Twinkle,” Kyle said miserably. “Then I’ll go to the drugstore.”
Dixie nodded and continued into the house. She didn’t hear Andrea stirring behind the closed guest-room door, and that was a good thing. She hurried through her shower and makeup, and when she came downstairs, Kyle and Twinkle were in the yard being whipped around by the wind. Twinkle, his hair bow untied, his bangs flopping over his eyes, was wandering in no particular pattern, and it appeared as if the dog were walking Kyle instead of the other way around.
Dixie stuck her head out the back door. “Kyle, I have some toaster pancakes in the freezer. Want a couple?”
“Not right now,” he said gruffly. “I’ll get something later.”
This was okay with her. She was in the mood for a big breakfast at the Eat Right, and besides, Kathy Lou had probably heard all about Andrea’s surprise appearance and would be eager for juicy details.
Dixie grabbed her briefcase and hurried outside. Twinkle was now running around at the end of his leash, maybe hunting for Muffin’s trail. There wouldn’t be one, since Muffin had never been outdoors, but Dixie wasn’t going to bring that up.
She headed for the playhouse.
“Where are you going?” Kyle asked.
“I need to make sure Muffin has enough food and water. No way am I taking her back in the house until Andrea and Attila are gone.”
“They’ll go. I can promise that.”
He didn’t say when.
Dixie spent a few minutes petting Muffin, reassuring her that the house would be theirs again soon. Muffin purred and let out a little Brrup! as she twined around Dixie’s leg. No doubt about it, Dixie was becoming a cat person. Already was a cat person.
Kyle and the dog were traversing a grassy strip near the shore as Dixie started for the garage. She paused for a moment, thinking she should walk over to Kyle for their customary goodbye kiss. But he’d turned his back toward her, whether by accident or design she couldn’t say, and the grass was wet. She was wearing new suede shoes. Resolutely, she kept walking.
As she backed her car out, Kyle spoke. He was closer now, dragging Twinkle toward the house.
“No treat until you poo-poo,” Kyle said.
Dixie braked sharply and stared at him through her open window. “What did you say?”
Kyle looked embarrassed. “I was talking to Twinkle.”
“Whew. That’s a relief.” She thought about that missed kiss again, felt a twinge of unhappiness over the whole situation and started to back up.
“Dixie?”
“Yes?”
“I’m really sorry about all this.” His expression was so regretful that she didn’t doubt his sincerity, but it wasn’t enough.
“We’ll talk later.” She wondered if Kyle remembered that she was planning to call Lana Pillsbry today to find out if she was going to buy that house.
Kyle smiled, forced though it was, and waved. In that moment, Dixie forgot all about their present difficulties. Even though they were going through a rough time, she would spend the whole day missing him. These days she couldn’t wait to get home in the evenings because it meant that she and Kyle would be together. Did he know how much she cared about him?
She sure hoped so, or none of this was worth the trouble.
THE EAT RIGHT CAFÉ wasn’t so busy that Kathy Lou didn’t have time to talk. “I heard she’s real pretty,” Kathy Lou said as she refilled Ketchup bottles. “And wears expensive clothes.”
“Who told you that?” Dixie asked, idly stirring her coffee. Everyone else was sitting at the other end of the counter. This provided a chance for her to chat with Kathy Lou semiprivately.
“Priss. Milo and Andrea stopped by her house on their date.”
It was a date? That was news to her, yet it had no real impact. She didn’t care what Milo and Andrea did. Right now she’d help them elope if that would make Andrea go away.
“Did Priss say how that went?”
Kathy Lou screwed the top on a bottle and moved to the next one. “I’m not sure. Andrea was pleasant to Priss and the kids. Anyone who can be sweet to Priss’s little Howie is okay in my book, seeing as how he never acts friendly. One time Howie nearly ran me down with a shopping cart at Bi-Lo. By the way, Dixie, I heard Lana looked at the Meehan place.”
“I hope she buys it,” Dixie said fervently, visions of new living-room chairs dancing in her head.
“Ooooh, and speaking of houses, Milo bought a new mobile home to put on that acreage where he’s going to start his plant nursery.”
“How nice for him.” Dixie stood and shelled out a few bills. “I need to get to work.”
“Good luck with Lana,” Kathy Lou called after her before turning to wait on someone else.
At the office, Dixie tried unsuccessfully to reach Lana. Then she checked with Mayzelle, who was tardy because of a poodle-groomer appointment, and she doodled on her calendar while making follow-up calls on possible listings. It wasn’t until late afternoon that she realized she’d started a diary of sorts.
SATURDAY
Plus: Fun day watching Kyle work with horses. Picnic willow tree scribble make love hope for marriage prop???
Min
us: Andrea arrive. Twinkle. Sleep on narrow cot. Kyle scribble scribble. Dumb dumb dumb.
SUNDAY
Plus: Church with family. Dinner with family. Visit with Voncille and them. Scribble scribble.
Minus: Andrea still there. Don’t get to spend much time with Kyle. Have to sleep on narrow cot. TIRED OF ANDREA!
MONDAY
Plus: Kyle tells Andrea it’s over. Plus plus plus!!! Get Muffin. Andrea and Milo go off with dogs she stays out all night. Have sex in canoe with Kyle (not Andrea, me).
Minus: Rains hard. No discuss relationship.
TUESDAY
Minus: Andrea comes back in a.m. Andrea sick. Sleep on playhouse floor.
Plus: Sleep on playhouse floor with Kyle. No discussion of relationship? maybe plus?? Scribble.
WEDNESDAY
Plus:?
The phone rang, and when Dixie answered it, she heard Memaw’s voice.
“Listen, Dixie Lee, why didn’t you tell me about that Ohio woman camping out at your house? I had to hear it from Dottie.”
“I’ve been busy,” Dixie said, feeling the start of a headache.
“You can stay with me anytime you like. I’m expecting you tonight without fail, and you won’t have to move back home until she’s gone.”
Dixie had been concentrating so hard on finding ways to get rid of Andrea that she hadn’t even considered other options. “Why, thanks, Memaw. Is Kyle welcome, too?”
A long pause. “All right. I like the fellow, even though—”
“Get over it, Memaw. He’s moving down here. At least, it seems pretty certain.”
“Hallelujah! He’s seen the light. Why don’t you and Kyle come early enough for supper. I’ll open a jar of that pickled okra I made last summer.”
Dixie didn’t have the heart to remind Memaw that she hadn’t actually made the pickled okra, but she assured her that she and Kyle would be there. After they hung up, she headed out to her afternoon appointments with a lighter step because it seemed to her that things were taking a positive turn. Or at least that’s what she believed until she returned to the office and found a phone message from Lana Pillsbry saying that she wasn’t interested in the Meehan house after all and to have a nice day.
WHEN DIXIE RETURNED HOME, discouraged about all the hard work she’d put into the deal that hadn’t gone through, Kyle wasn’t there. Andrea was sitting at the kitchen table, spooning up mouthfuls of chicken noodle soup when Dixie entered through the back door. Twinkle was slurping his own little bowl of soup on the floor. He didn’t even bark when Dixie walked in. He just kept eating.
“Hi, Dixie,” Andrea said, her voice a mere croak. Her hair was straggly and unwashed, her nose red and chapped. She wasn’t wearing makeup and her skin color was washed out. Also, her eyes were pale. Dixie wanted to advise her to have eyeliner tattooed on like hers but decided not to mention it because she wasn’t sure how Andrea would react.
“I’m glad you’re feeling well enough to be up and around,” Dixie said. On the way home, she’d made up her mind to seize the bull by the horns. “Mind if we chat?”
“Sure, let’s,” Andrea replied.
Dixie sat down, germs be hanged. She groped around in her mind for a suitable way to begin the discussion, but Andrea spoke first.
“I’m really sorry about this,” Andrea said. “You’ve been wonderful.”
“I’d like to have my house back.” A gross understatement, but she’d never believed in overkill.
Andrea shoved her bowl aside. “I told Kyle I can probably leave the day after tomorrow without my eustachian tubes—you know. Didn’t he tell you?”
“Something like that.” Dixie tried to recall exactly what Kyle had said. She had a lot of things on her mind, the most upsetting of which was Lana’s refusal to buy a house that was ideal for her. It was downright depressing, and she was in the mood for a hot bath, a glass of wine and Kyle, though not in that order. She probably wanted Kyle and his easy sense of humor most. He was the only one who was capable of raising her out of the funk she was in.
“Kyle said to tell you he had a horse emergency somewhere he hasn’t been before. A town called Sumner? Is that right?”
“Sumter. Did he say when he’d be back?”
“No, he didn’t. This may be a little presumptuous—”
Since when did that ever stop you?
“—but I believe he’s totally in love with you.” Andrea seemed resigned.
Dixie took heart from her words. “That’s good. I mean, I care about him, too.” Another understatement, but she wasn’t about to elaborate. This was Kyle’s ex-girlfriend she was talking to, for heaven’s sake.
Andrea managed a brief smile. She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “I’m willing to accept that Kyle and I aren’t right for each other. It’s sad, but not so sad that I can’t move on.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Dixie said with the utmost sincerity. She wondered if Andrea was faking the brave smile.
Maybe not, because Andrea’s next words indicated that she had another interest. A very peculiar interest, considering the diverse backgrounds of the two people involved.
Andrea leaned forward in her chair. “Dixie, I enjoyed the time I spent with Milo. He, well, he really listened to me.”
It’s a tough job, but somebody has to do it.
Andrea knotted her forehead. Then she blurted, “Does he like going to the theater?”
Taken by surprise, Dixie was hard put to answer. “I’m not sure. He was in the Yewville Community Theater group when he was a kid.” Andrea brightened, so Dixie kept talking. “That tells you that Milo is certainly interested in theater. Why, he played, oh, let me think. A prince, in one play, a raccoon in another. Milo was a great raccoon, positively brilliant.” At the risk of sounding like an infomercial, she clamped her mouth shut.
“That’s a positive sign. Excuse me for asking your advice, Dixie, but Milo said the two of you were good friends a long time ago.”
“It’s okay,” she said. I’m going to throw up, she thought.
“Do you think Milo would come to visit me in Ohio? I’d like him to be my escort for the last community-theater play of the season. I mean, I won’t ask him if there isn’t a good chance that he’ll accept.”
“Go for it,” Dixie said.
“Oh, Dixie, thanks. You’ve been such a big help.” Andrea beamed, and even though her eyes were watery and her nose resembled something a clown would wear, she was halfway pretty again.
It was time to leave before she and Andrea joined hands and started singing “Kumbayah.” She stood up, and Andrea’s bathrobe pocket rang.
Andrea extracted her cell phone from its nest of multiple crumpled tissues. She glanced at the caller ID and mouthed the word Milo before Dixie fled the room.
When Dixie was on the way out of the house, Andrea, still on the phone, waved a silent goodbye. “Ask Kyle to phone me at my grandmother’s,” she told Andrea, and Andrea nodded.
Dixie drove to Memaw’s through the rapidly falling dusk, wishing she’d been a little more conciliatory with Kyle that morning. It didn’t feel right to be on the outs with him. She’d skipped their morning goodbye kiss for the first time ever because she’d been mad at him. Since she’d left that morning, Voncille’s words had been scrolling through her mind like the crawl line at the bottom of a TV screen: “Skeeter and I make it a point never to go to bed angry. We always reconcile before we go to sleep.”
Dixie was determined to make up with Kyle before bedtime. They’d kiss and hug and reclaim the happiness that always accompanied their being together. It suddenly struck her that this might not be so easy given that there was no chance on God’s green earth that the two of them would be sharing a bedroom in her grandmother’s house. Still, she could ask.
“OF COURSE I’MSUPPOSED to be a prude,” Memaw said. Dixie and Memaw were working together in the kitchen cutting up vegetables for stew. “My generation was brought up to be circumspect.”
&nbs
p; “I gathered,” Dixie said, suppressing a wistful sigh and wishing she hadn’t posed the question about sleeping with Kyle so bluntly.
Memaw kept talking as if she hadn’t heard. “My mother would have been scandalized if I’d so much as suggested that I was sleeping with your grandfather before we were married.”
Dixie was certain she hadn’t heard correctly. “You were what?”
“Sleeping together,” Memaw said blithely, tossing several chunks of celery into the pot. “I haven’t told a soul until now. You should be ashamed of yourself, Dixie, for prying it out of me.” Memaw’s eyes twinkled mischievously.
“I didn’t pry!” Dixie protested in amazement, regarding Memaw in a whole new light. “I only asked if you’d mind if Kyle and I did.”
“Do you think I haven’t figured out what’s going on between you two? It’s as plain as the noses on your faces that you’re madly in love with each other. I’m okay with that, it’s just that he’s a Yan—”
“Don’t say it,” Dixie interrupted. “You said you could get over his being a Yankee.”
“I’m working on it. Getting back to your grandfather and me. You should have known him in his younger days, Dixie. He was a rake and a scoundrel, leaving broken hearts in his wake like withered stalks in a harvested field. Then he visited my church and our eyes met over our hymnals while the congregation was singing “Amazing Grace.” After the service, he asked me if my name was Grace, and I said yes. And he told me that he’d known it all along because I was amazing. Lordy, what a corny thing for him to say, but I sure did love him for it.”
“Your name is Frances,” Dixie said.
Memaw chuckled. “I lied. Your granddaddy took me for a ride in his car that evening, and soon we were meeting every night. He’d take me to an old tenant cabin on his family farm where he’d set up a bed and kept white lightning in the cupboard.”
Dixie was floored. “You and Granddaddy drank moonshine together?”
“Oh, sure. His papa made it. The white lightning gave me the courage to go through with my decision to make love with him, and guess what? Your daddy was the result. Everyone said I was a beautiful bride, and nobody said one mean word about your father being born seven months after the wedding. I was twenty-one years old and never regretted not waiting for marriage. You shouldn’t, either, sweetie.” Memaw clapped the cover on the stew pot and turned down the heat on the burner.
Down Home Dixie Page 17
