“Not a very convincing smile,” Annajane observed.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I never said I didn’t want more children,” Mason said. “I do want more. Sophie needs brothers and sisters. I’d almost convinced myself that everything would be okay with another child, as long as I was around to make up for Celia’s shortcomings.”
“But you changed your mind?”
“It’s not enough to have a husband and wife living in the same house,” Mason said. “If those people don’t really love each other, it’s not a family; it’s a fraud, with or without a marriage license. And a child will eventually see through that. I don’t want that for Sophie. Or any child.”
“That’s pretty deep stuff there, Mason,” Annajane said.
“Jesus,” he said. “I came so close to blowing it. You’ll never know how close.”
Annajane was almost tempted to tell him the full extent of Celia’s deception. But she knew she wouldn’t. It was a hurt he didn’t need.
“What happens next? With Celia, I mean?”
He glanced at his watch. “She and her stuff should be gone by now. And her contract with Quixie has been terminated. I’ll pay out the rest of the money she’s due. And hopefully, that will be the end of it.”
He took a long drink from the cup and passed it back to her.
She shook her head and handed it back. She needed to keep a clear head. “You said you had a proposal for me?”
Mason rolled to the right and reached into the pocket of his jeans. He turned toward Annajane, opened his fist and revealed a ring on the flattened palm of his hand. It was the engagement ring he’d given her their first time together. He waited for her reaction.
Nothing.
“I want,” he swallowed hard. Mason didn’t think of himself as a big talker. He wasn’t really effusive. That was his brother’s gift. He’d never had a problem talking to Annajane before. But tonight the words stubbornly resisted being formed into sentences. He’d been thinking about this moment off and on for five years, since the day she’d left. He’d rehearsed the scene in his mind, trying to make it perfect.
She slapped at a bug on her neck and waited. He couldn’t read what she was thinking. That had changed, too. Once, her face had been an open book, vulnerable, patient, expectant. Now, she was a mystery to him. Somehow it was frightening and sexy at the same time.
He took a deep breath. “I want to ask you for a do-over. I know I don’t deserve it. And I have no right to ask for it. But I love you, Annajane. I can’t lose you again. I just can’t. And I know I’m doing this all wrong, blurting out stupid stuff, and it’s crazy to think you’d take me back, after everything I put you through, but I can’t help it. I’m going nuts here.”
Annajane was still staring at him.
“Anything?” he asked.
“I’d like for you to kiss me,” Annajane said quietly.
He carefully put the ring in the ashtray, then pitched the rest of the drink out the open window and tossed the cup into the backseat. Mason held her face between his hands. He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip, and then he lowered his face to hers.
Annajane’s lips were warm and full and sweet, reminding him of ripened cherries. He teased his tongue into her, and laced his fingers in her long, thick hair. Her arms went around his neck, and he slid out from beneath the steering wheel, drawing her closer, letting his hand trail down the smooth skin of her bare arms. She smelled different than he remembered, not the girlish floral scent she’d worn during their marriage; this perfume was spicy, citrus, even exotic. He kissed her earlobes, and her throat, and the hollow of her neck, and his hands drifted downward; slipping one strap of her sundress from her shoulder, he nudged it the rest of his way with his chin, kissing her breast while she raked her fingers through his hair and down his back.
There were buttons on the straps of her dress, and he fumbled, trying to unbutton one, hoping she’d help him out, but instead, she sat back and assessed him with cool green eyes, before catching his hand in hers. She kissed him deeply, then drew back.
“What was the question again?” she whispered.
“I want you to marry me,” Mason said urgently, his hands going to her other shoulder, tugging uselessly at the buttons. “But first, could we take this dress off?”
She kissed him, and nipped his lower lip with her teeth. “I’m afraid not. Not tonight anyway.”
46
Mason wasn’t used to being told no. He wasn’t even used to maybe. He grinned that lazy grin of his, knowing full well the effect it had always had on her. “No, we can’t take this dress off, or no, you won’t marry me?”
She slapped at another mosquito that had landed on her arm and kissed him lightly. “Hmm. As much as I love this place, I really don’t love getting eaten alive by mosquitoes. In case you haven’t noticed, they are currently feasting on my flesh.”
He looked stricken. “I’m sorry. I didn’t stop to think. I mean, you always loved it out here at the lake. It was our special place. I just wanted to be out here with you, again, when I, you know…”
“Asked me to marry you?”
“You’re really not going to make this easy on me, are you?”
“Not this time.” She kissed him again, this time, slipping her tongue into his mouth, pressing herself against him, flattening her breasts against his chest.
He groaned and tried to pull her onto his lap, but she laughed again and moved away. She curled her arms around his neck. “I want you, Mason. I really do. I guess I never stopped wanting you, even after I should have known better.”
“Annajane,” he started, but this time she was the one doing the shushing.
“I’ll give you a do-over. But this time, I need to feel wanted. I want to be courted and flirted with. I need to believe I’m the only woman in the world you want to be with.”
He gripped her arm. “You are. You always were. I was just too stupid to realize it, and to realize that you needed to hear it from me. And you will. I swear, I will never take your love for granted again. I’ll spend the rest of my life reminding you what you mean to me.”
Annajane propped one elbow on the seat back and sighed contentedly. “God, I’ve missed you.”
He took her left hand and tenderly kissed each finger, and then he slid the engagement band onto her ring finger. She cupped his chin in her hands and kissed him deeply, and then handed the ring back.
“I haven’t finished,” she said sweetly. “If I marry you…”
Mason frowned. “You mean, when. Right?”
“If,” she said, lifting her chin. “I definitely mean if. If I marry you, we can’t go back to the way things were. I won’t be the little woman back at the house waiting for your phone call that never comes.”
“Annajane, I’ve changed,” Mason said.
“Good, because I’ve changed, too,” she said. “At least the divorce did that for me. I’m good at what I do, Mason. I mean, really good. If you’ll let me, I think I can help save Quixie. This summer promotion, if we can get the production started on the ads and commercials and Facebook campaign right away, I think it might really work. And I don’t care what Davis says; I know you’re right about adding the new Quixie flavors. We’ve got to expand the brand, not retrench. But you’re going to have to really trust in me and believe in my professional abilities. The way you trusted Celia.”
He looked shame-faced. “You’re right. I totally bought into her vision for the company. Until the shine began to wear off, and I saw what was beneath.”
“It was a pretty beguiling package,” Annajane said.
“All of it was sham,” Mason said. “Me, the company, we were just a commodity to her, something she could pluck, polish, and then peddle.”
“Was that pluck, or fuck?” Annajane asked, laughing at the shocked look on Mason’s face. “See? I told you you’ve been underestimating me.”
“Never again,” he pulled her into his arms. “Are we done here?”
“Not quite,” Annajane said, trying to sound stern, which was difficult while he was nuzzling her neck. “Do you get what all this means, Mason? I want us to be full partners. In everything. I won’t be like your mama. I’m not interested in bridge or in running the altar guild. There’s nothing wrong with those things, but they’re not me.”
He was kissing her again. “I am not marrying my mother. And you are not marrying a man like my father.” He tipped her chin up. “I love you, and only you. I will never cheat on you, Annajane. You are the only partner I will ever want, or need.”
She kissed him back. “I’ve been trying not to think about it, but what happens after next week? You’ll find out how your father divided up the company. What if Davis gets his way? What if you have to sell the company after all?”
“Worrying about that now won’t change whatever is in my dad’s will,” Mason said firmly. “And if we have to sell the company, at least I’ll have a kick-ass partner to help me start a new one. Right?”
“Right,” she said. She held out her hand and held her breath while he replaced the ring. She held it up to the moonlight to admire it. “I’d forgotten how much I loved this thing,” she said.
“And me,” he said helpfully, sliding her onto his lap.
“Yes,” she said. “You, too.” She pushed herself off his lap. “Now can we please go back to the Pinecone? You were going to court me, remember? If we’re going to do it, let’s do it right.”
On the way back to the motel, she found the cassette tape she’d made and slid it into the player. When Steve Perry sang the opening lines of “Open Arms” she looked over and saw that Mason was singing right along with Journey at the top of his lungs. Shane had said Journey was cheesy. She didn’t care. This was their song. They were getting a do-over. For once, their timing was flawless.
47
Annajane looked around the conference room of the law offices of Thomas and Fleishman, attorneys at law, and saw that the lines had already been drawn in what looked like a troubling Bayless family feud. Sallie, dressed in a chic black St. John Knits suit, black and bone Ferragamo spectator pumps, and her ever-present pearls, had seated herself at the head of the sleek glass and chrome table.
Davis sat at her right hand, in his customary navy suit and striped rep tie. He’d scooted his chair over until it was only inches from his mother’s, and their heads were bowed together as they shared a whispered confidence.
By contrast, Mason had seated himself at the far end of the table. He looked remarkably composed, Annajane thought. His pale green dress shirt and khaki slacks were crisply pressed and he wore a hunter green tie with the red Quixie Pixie logo woven into it. Annajane smiled to herself when she saw that tie.
She’d custom-ordered the ties for all the Bayless men: Glenn, Mason, Davis, and even Pete, the first year of her marriage. Mason, who seldom wore a dress shirt, let alone a tie, swore he loved his Quixie tie. But she couldn’t remember ever seeing him wear it again. The tie, she knew, was Mason’s subtle way of letting his family know where he stood. With Quixie.
He glanced over at her, saw what she was looking at, and gave her a wink. Annajane looked away. How could he be so relaxed, knowing the company’s fate—their fate—would be revealed in just a few moments?
She’d been a bundle of nerves all morning, trying on and discarding outfits until her room at the Pinecone was strewn with clothing, shoes, and jewelry. In the end, she’d decided on a slimly cut pale aqua sleeveless sheath with a matching jacket. She’d twisted her hair into a modified french knot and, on a whim, chose Grandma Bayless’s diamond engagement ring as her only piece of jewelry—an unspoken declaration of her loyalty. To him. No matter what the day’s outcome.
Annajane had nearly turned her car around when she arrived at Norris Thomas’s law office above the Mid-State Bank. Why should she be here, she asked herself, for the tenth time that morning. This was Mason’s battle, not hers. But when she saw Davis and Sallie drive up together in Davis’s Porsche Boxster, she knew why she’d come. For him, yes, but mostly for herself.
Glenn Bayless considered her part of his family. He’d made that clear the day of her wedding to Mason, when he made a special trip to her house to tell her about his gift of stock in Quixie. No matter what Davis or Sallie thought, she too had a stake in Quixie’s future.
She waited until Sallie and Davis went into the bank, gave them a five-minute head start, and then followed them in. Sallie’s greeting to her when she entered the conference room was decidedly frosty.
Annajane was surprised to realize that for the first time she could remember, she wasn’t fazed by Sallie’s hostility toward her. “Hello, Sallie,” she said sweetly.
The conference room door opened, and all eyes were riveted in that direction. Pokey rushed in, her face flushed, her hair mussed.
She wore a brightly flowered red, yellow, and purple linen maternity tunic; yellow slacks; and spangly purple thongs, and the oversized tote slung over her shoulder was actually a green and navy quilted diaper bag.
Sallie’s eyes flickered briefly but meaningfully over her daughter’s outfit. “There you are,” Sallie drawled. “We were about to send out an all-points bulletin for you. You do know you’re ten minutes late?”
“Sorry, Mama,” Pokey said, sinking down into the empty chair between Annajane’s and Mason’s. “The sitter was late, and then I couldn’t find the car keys because Clayton had hidden them in the potty chair, and then I got stopped at the railroad crossing by a train that I swear was a mile long…”
“Never mind,” Sallie said, waving away any other excuses. “Just so you’re here. Did you tell the receptionist to let Norris know we’re all present now?”
“She knows,” Pokey said, reaching for the bottle of water sitting in front of her place at the table and taking a hefty swig. “She said to tell you he’s on the phone.”
“He needs to let one of his junior associates tend to the phones so he can tend to business,” Davis snapped. He glanced down at his watch. “I’m about over all this waiting.”
“Relax, Davis. We’ve been waiting five years,” Pokey said. “Another five minutes won’t kill us.”
“Some of us give a shit,” Davis shot back. “Some of us have a business to attend to.”
“Davis!” Sallie said sharply, laying a warning hand on his sleeve. “That’s enough.”
But Pokey was undaunted. “It’s not even ten thirty yet. No worries, Davis. You can sell off the company after lunch, and then you can hightail it to Figure Eight Island and still have plenty of time to spend your new fortune.”
“Pauline,” Sallie said sternly. “I want this unpleasantness stopped immediately.”
“Whatever,” Pokey said. “I guess we know whose side you’re on, Mama.”
“I’m not on anybody’s side,” Sallie said, struggling to retain her majestic bearing. She looked around at her three grown children. “We are all here for the same reason, and I’d appreciate it if you would all remember that. Your father would not have tolerated this petty bickering.”
“Not so petty, Mama,” Mason said. “Davis wants to sell to Jax Snax for thirty million. That’s a lot of pepperoni popcorn.”
Pokey giggled, but before Sallie could admonish her again, Norris Thomas walked into the room, a thick file folder clutched tightly under his left arm.
Annajane had met Thomas on several occasions and reflected now that he didn’t seem to have aged in the past ten years, despite the fact that he must be in his late seventies. His build was storklike, with long legs and a slight paunch in the belly. His wiry white hair stood up in tufts above his high, patrician forehead, and the silver aviator-frame glasses he’d favored for the past thirty years had come and gone back into fashion again without his notice.
Davis and Mason got up and shook hands, and Sallie, still seated, coolly offered her own hand in greeting, deliberately making the elderly attorney a supplicant, rather than the trustee of a multimillion-
dollar family fortune.
Pokey stood and gave the older man a hug. “Uncle Norris,” she said. “How is Miss Faye?”
“She’s good, spoiling the grandchildren rotten, and she sends her love,” Thomas said. He turned and greeted Annajane warmly, before making his way to a chair in the middle of the table on the far side.
He cleared his throat twice, took a sip from the bottle of water at his place, and cleared his throat once more.
“All right, y’all,” he started, flipping the file open on the table. “I do apologize for being tardy.” He peered down his nose through the spectacles at the file, and then at the family members ranged around the table. “I’m happy to see that everybody is here today, and I trust that you all are enjoying good health?”
“We’re fine, Norris,” Davis said impatiently. “Busy, but fine.”
Sallie shot him a look, but Davis shook it off. “The trust, Norris. We really need to know the details of the trust Dad set up for us.”
Looking unperturbed, Norris began handing around five sheaves of stapled documents. “This is a copy for everybody concerned,” he said. “The document you now have in your hands is the irrevocable trust drawn up by Robert Glenndenning Bayless. The trust provides for the division of stock in the legal entity called Carolina Carbonated Beverage Company, or Quixie.”
As Glenn Bayless’s widow and children bent their head over the document and began leafing furiously through the pages, Norris went on.
“As you all know, Glenn was proud of his family’s ownership of Quixie, and of Quixie’s contributions to this community. His greatest wish was that the company would always stay in Passcoe and that it would be run by his heirs. This was the reasoning behind the provision mandating that the company could not be sold for a period of five years following his death.”
Norris was speaking, but Annajane was the only one listening. The others’ eyes were glued to the thick document in their hands.
Spring Fever Page 36
