“Yes.” And to his surprise that was true.
“Did you have fun at your dinner out with your friends last weekend?”
“Yes.” It had not been a fancy meal. They had—kids, babies, and all—gone down to Birmingham for a big, loud, messy Mexican meal. Kirby, who was home for winter break, had joined them. He had a girl with him, who the women grilled and the men tried to rescue. “After we had dinner, we drove around in a caravan and looked at Christmas lights. Missy declared it a success so it must have been. She says it’s our new Christmas tradition. Of course, Missy declares a new tradition about as often as the wind changes direction.”
“Still,” Big Mama said, “tradition is nice. History . . . a feeling of belonging. You are all lucky that Missy has appointed herself the gatekeeper for your friendships and traditions.”
“You’ve got that right. She’s the gatekeeper. She decides who gets in and nobody gets out.”
He regretted it as soon as he said it. Big Mama laughed but there was a little sadness hanging around in the background. Big Mama had been the gatekeeper for their family, but he’d been the gate crasher. And now, she was probably wondering if she would ever have another holiday season like this one, or if he’d be off in New England, New Orleans, or Timbuktu, where he might or might not allow her and Charles to meet him at a restaurant on Christmas Day.
It was time. “Big Mama,” he said quietly, “You are the first to hear this. I have told no one else, not even Dad. A long time ago you told me that when the time came, I could choose an engagement ring from the family jewelry. That time has come. Is that promise still good?”
“Well—” He had never seen Caroline Brantley look so befuddled; come to think of it, he’d never seen her look befuddled at all. And her face had gone white. “Well, darling, of course. Yes. But—”
“But what?”
“But who, Brantley?”
She was kidding, right? “Who? Lucy, of course. Who did you think?”
She put her hands up palms out and closed her eyes. “I didn’t think. I mean to say, it’s been such a short time with you and Lucy, that I was afraid . . . I mean, I thought it was possible that . . .”
Even after all this time, she would not say it, would not criticize his choices.
But he would. He crossed to where she sat and settled on the ottoman. “I am not going to marry Rita May, Big Mama. I am never going back to Rita May. I have not heard from her, seen her, or thought about her. It’s all Lucy.”
She didn’t look much happier. “I see.”
Oh, hell, no. Rita May was one thing. She deserved to be disliked; she got up in the morning begging for it. But Lucy was another. “I thought you liked Lucy,” he said coldly.
She looked up, shocked. “Like Lucy? My darling, I love Lucy. So does your father. We adore her. It’s just that it’s been such a short time. Are you sure?”
“Not so short,” he said. “I know we haven’t been strictly involved long, but we’ve known each other since we were kids. It’s not like I met her last month.”
Caroline was nodding now, getting some of her color back. “And Lucy is open to this? You aren’t rushing her?”
Rushing her? “No. I know my mind and I know Lucy’s.”
He was on the verge of asking if he was getting a ring or wasn’t he? Though it wasn’t really a question of getting a ring. Because he was getting a ring. Today. Asa Reed would sell him any ring he wanted without all these questions. He just wasn’t sure if he was getting a family ring. And if Caroline couldn’t be on board one hundred percent, he didn’t want one.
“Well, all right then,” she said. “As long as you are both sure. That said, I cannot begin to tell you how happy this makes me.” And she did look happy. Finally. She leaned over to embrace him. “And I know Charles will feel the same. Of course, you will have any ring you want, save the one on my finger. And that will come soon enough.” She held out her hand where she still wore the engagement and wedding rings that Papa had given her.
“Not soon,” Brantley said. “You’re going to be around a long time. And,” he said slowly, “I am going to be here with you. In Merritt. When the Brantley Building is finished, I will have to set up my office, of course. I’ll need a place. I know you said you were going to use Papa’s old office, but I thought—”
And she began to cry. “No. I don’t need an office. I never needed an office. Of course, you will have it. Brantley, this is just the best Christmas gift anyone could have given me. Lucy, you staying here, the office . . . oh, and the wedding!”
Okay. Enough. “First things first,” he said. “About that ring . . .”
She wiped her tears and looked thoughtful. “Yes. About that. Brantley, have you thought of—”
Oh, what now? “Of what?”
“Have you thought of your mother’s rings?”
Oh, damn. Oh, hell. Did not see that coming. His heart began to race and his head spun. Sweating now. Breathe. Didn’t see it coming at all.
And Big Mama wasn’t seeing it. “Eva had such lovely rings. I don’t know if you ever paid much attention. Charles bought the antique Edwardian setting and had it set with the rubies and diamonds.” She went on talking about rose gold, the quality of the stones, Lucy’s taste, and how pleased Charles would be.
And he went on sweating. Deep breaths. Chills and heat.
And there was no Lucy here to save him, to calm him, to make him not crazy.
Breathe. Pretend it’s not happening. Show it who’s boss.
Finally, he found his voice. “I had really thought a diamond ring. Not colored stones.” Surely, there was a ring like that in that stash.
Big Mama smiled brightly. “Then let’s go to the bank. Just let me get my key to the safe deposit box.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lucy smoothed her green velvet tunic and found her assigned place in the parade lineup. Besides the three of them, Lanie had drafted ten others to give out the candy; they were to march at staggered intervals along the parade route and hand the lollipops directly to the children, one per child. They were also to skip and smile. If they could kick up their toes and ring the bells on their shoes, that would be even better.
Lanie had allowed Missy to make the rules and instruct the volunteers. Lanie had, however, denied her a bullhorn.
Lucy practiced a little skip step and put a bell ringing motion in it. Not bad. Now with the other foot.
Strong arms caught her from behind. “How about a little elven magic?”
And that warm caramel voice poured over her, melting her into nothing. And nothing would be what she’d be left with next year. She had given up trying to protect herself, had decided that Christmas was magic, and she was just going to let the magic happen. Determined to not let thoughts of next year ruin this year, she turned in his arms.
“What have you been up to today?” She hadn’t heard from him since early this morning, when he’d woken her with his tongue applied just so . . .
“Oh, this and that.” He whistled a little and turned his face up, pretending to study the night sky.
That probably meant he’d been shopping for a Christmas gift for her. In addition to the photo album she’d made for him, she had found a set of antique drafting tools. They would look neat hanging on the wall, if he ever settled down.
“This and that? You’ve been busy.” She toyed with a button on his shirt. “I might have expected this or that. Never both.”
He laughed. “See, here’s the trick. Schedule it in your DayRunner and it happens. I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“Brantley!” Missy was barreling toward them with a clipboard in hand and the bell on her pointed elf hat ringing. “Let her go! It’s time for the parade to start. Get up there on that sidewalk!” And she ran past, no doubt, to lay down the law to the rest of the elves.
“I guess I’d better get up there on that sidewalk.” His amber eyes were as bright as his smile. “Though it’s hard to take a woman in an e
lf hat seriously, even if she does have a clipboard.”
“I’ll see you at the high school for the party after.”
He kissed her nose. “I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the route. Can’t have elf girls wandering around town, left to get to parties on their own. They might get stolen.”
He walked away, but turned to give her a little wave before he blended into the crowd.
Moments like this made her wonder if it might be barely possible that . . .
The band struck up “Jingle Bells”—the signal that the parade had begun.
* * *
The after parade party, held in the high school gym, was given by the Rotary to thank everyone who had had anything to do with the parade, from marching cub scouts to the largest corporate sponsor. Consequently, it seemed like most of the town was there. It wasn’t an elaborate party. Who had time to make decorations and fancy food with all the effort that had just gone into the parade and with Christmas three days away? But there was pizza, cookies, soft drinks, and punch. Santa was handing out candy to the children who had been in the parade, and the Merritt High band was playing background music. There would be a few speeches, but mostly this event was about visiting with neighbors.
Brantley steered Lucy to a large table near the portable stage where the other book club girls were sitting. Beau and Emma played nearby, wearing their mothers’ elf hats.
Brantley pulled a chair out for Lucy. “Ladies,” he greeted the table. “What fine elves you are. Where are your menfolk?”
“Doing what menfolk do,” Tolly answered. “Hunting. For pizza.”
Brantley looked around and sighed. “Then I shall do the same.” He dropped a kiss on Lucy’s mouth. “I will return triumphant. No woman of mine will go hungry, no matter how many boy scouts and baton twirlers I have to take out.”
When he had gone, they all turned and smiled.
“What?” Lucy said.
“This is it,” Lanie said. “I’ve got a feeling.”
“I’ve got more than a feeling,” Missy said. “I drove by your house today, Lucy, and Charles Kincaid was out there cleaning up the leaves in your yard.”
“What?” Lucy said. What she wanted to say was What in the hell? But there were children present.
Missy shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I saw.”
“I am so embarrassed.” Lucy covered her face. “I know I should have taken care of that. And it got so bad that Charles cleaned them up. But I’ve been so busy.”
They all laughed. “Busy with Brantley,” Tolly said. “I think Charles is just trying to show you that he approves.”
“I don’t know about Charles, but I certainly do,” Missy said. “I get down on my knees and thank God every night. It has been a hard job worrying about who Brantley was going to end up with.”
“Brantley has not ended up with—” Lucy began but stopped because the guys returned with pizza just as the mayor took the stage.
“I got you veggie and a water,” Brantley whispered, as he settled in next to her with his Coke and pepperoni and sausage.
At least no one could comment on how he had learned her ways because the mayor was speaking practically on top of their heads.
He thanked the Rotary and praised all the volunteers who had made the parade a success. Then he began to enumerate the strides Merritt had made in the past year—repaired roads, new businesses, the continued work by the Downtown Revitalization Committee. Then he went on to talk about Little League triumphs, the money the Junior League had raised for the hospital, the addition to the library, and Nathan’s team’s trip to the playoffs.
“That isn’t all that happened in our town this year. It’s just the highpoints. But, as most of you have heard, we have had exciting news of late. Beginning in January, work will begin to restore one of our historic treasures, the Brantley Building. Once it’s complete, it will fulfill a need that has been lacking in our community. We have long dreamed of having a multi-purpose center for cultural endeavors. And now we will have one, courtesy of the Brantley and Kincaid family.”
This was met with applause, maybe because people were pleased or maybe because they knew the mayor was almost finished.
But he said, “Mrs. Brantley, would you like to say a word?”
Miss Caroline was here? Lucy looked around. She was sitting with some of her friends not far from where Charles sat with Tiptoe Watkins and Laura Cochran’s father, Dr. Vines. Lucy gave them a little half wave.
Miss Caroline stood. “Thank you, Mayor Henry, but I believe I was quite loquacious enough on the subject at the press conference a few weeks back. Perhaps my grandson might say a word?”
More applause. Brantley didn’t flinch. He got up, mounted the little stage, and took the microphone. Lucy was so proud.
“Thank you, Mayor. I’ll be brief. My family is thrilled for this opportunity. I will not enumerate all that we plan to do, but Lucy Mead, Will Garrett, and I are already hard at work making plans. Just one of the things I am excited about giving this town is the ballroom. It sustained water damage in 1968 and has not been used since.” He gave the audience that million dollar melting smile and cleared his throat. “That was before my time but it is my understanding that it was once quite the little venue for good times and bad behavior.” Much laughter. “I may never have danced there but I did fight a couple of wars up there with the help of my trusty plastic soldiers and my second in command, Missy Jackson Bragg.”
“Second?” Missy called. “Not how I remember it.”
Laughter rang out and as it died, Brantley let his smile go. “But I will dance there. I’m looking forward to it. When I left this town, I thought I’d never be back for more than a visit. Then my grandmother asked me to take on this project and, well . . .” He gestured to Miss Caroline. “You all know my grandmother. Have any of you ever told her no?” Everyone laughed and Miss Caroline blew Brantley a kiss. “Back at you, Big Mama,” Brantley said. “Right back.” After a pause, he continued. “I have an announcement to make. No one knows this except my grandmother, but I hope this is something that will be considered an asset to Merritt and I am counting on it being welcome news for those dear to me. I thought I would only be here a short while, but I have changed my mind. Once the Brantley Building is restored, I plan to reopen Kincaid Architectural Design and Restoration in Merritt—in my grandfather’s former office in the Brantley Building.”
Brantley met Lucy’s eyes and smiled. And she smiled back. Oh, what this meant! They did not have to be temporary. They still might not end up together, but they had a chance!
Brantley was finally ready to stop running.
If this had been a romance novel, this would be the end, the happily ever after, where the reader just knew all would be well—because they would have time, sweet time.
Her heart was so full.
Brantley began talking again. “I’d like to tell you all that I decided to stay in town because of my ties, my family, my friends, and the charm of Merritt that cannot be denied. Those things are factors, but they’ve always been factors.”
Brantley stepped off the stage and came toward her.
“Now there is a variable—one I did not see coming.” He took her hand. “I am staying because of this woman.”
What? Surely this could not be happening. And why was he kneeling at her feet?
“Lucy Mead is a treasure beyond measure, though I think you all knew that before I did.”
Hell and double hell. People were on their feet applauding and catcalling. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw her three best friends clutching about each other and crying.
Yet, she still did not know what was going on until he said, “Lucy Mead, please do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
And suddenly she was on a carousel spinning out of control. Oh, it was pretty. Tempting even, but wrong because it was going to overturn and crash any second. Faces swirled around her. Miss Caroline, Charles, Missy, Lanie, Tolly, but most of all Br
antley. He was smiling and so sure.
Then it occurred to her that it must be a joke. They must be filming a reality show and she was being taped for her reaction.
But Brantley reached into his pocket and pulled out a platinum ring with a diamond as big as a grape. And then there were the other diamonds around it.
That’s when she knew it was no joke. That ring had not come from some reality show prop room. It had not come from the mall, or even Reed’s Jewelry. It had come from someone’s jewelry chest or safe deposit box. And she knew whose.
What if she let him put it on her hand? What if she married him? Had his babies, lived and loved him for the rest of her life? Wasn’t that what she wanted, what she had wanted since that fifteenth summer when she learned about love and heartbreak and he learned about grief?
Love. Grief. Those were the keys. He had not said one word about loving her. He needed her as a crutch for his grief. That was clear. And staying in Merritt was not a sign that he was ready to stop running. This was just another way to run, to hide.
The carousel spun faster and faster and faster. Out of control.
This was no romance novel; it was a horror story.
Lucy jumped to her feet and ran.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lucy was in the Merritt High School parking lot before she remembered that she had no car and no way home. Lanie had picked her up before the parade and Brantley had brought her here. It was too far to walk, and public transportation in Merritt amounted to calling family or friends.
She might have called Annelle, but she was on her way to Charleston. Calling any of her friends was out of the question. That was the last thing she wanted. She had to get out of here, though. They’d be hot on her trail in no time.
Despite the distance, she was about to strike out walking, at least until she thought of something. Then she heard the laughter a short distance away and saw the cigarette smoke drifting from between two cars.
She hot footed it over there where she found three teenage boys in letter jackets smoking. She knew one of them, had sold his mother a rug last week.
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