by Susan Schild
As she helped them off with their coats, Jack’s mother called into the other room, “Darling, will you turn down the music? Jack is here.” As the music quieted, Ceecee kept up a line of pleasant chatter. “It looks like a full moon tonight, or almost a full moon. It’s waxing”—she put a finger to her pink bow of a mouth—“or is it waning?” She waved a hand. “I can never remember which is which.” She smiled at Linny, blasting her with startlingly beautiful green eyes.
Linny blinked, feeling a jolt of recognition. That’s where Jack had gotten his eyes, which could make her clothes fall off if she wasn’t careful.
“You two kids can join Daddy in the living room. He’s been watching the clock, waiting for you.” She rolled her eyes affectionately. “I’ll warn you, he’s found an old mixology book and is gung ho on mixing fancy drinks. I’ve got to check on something in the oven, but I’ll join you in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” With a gay little wave, she trotted off, her kitten heels clacking on the wood floors.
For a moment, Jack and Linny just looked at each other. Jack’s lips twitched and he drawled, “Well? What do you think?”
“Goodness.” Her thoughts scrabbled around for something neutral to say. “She’s certainly . . . high energy . . . and chatty.” She peered at him and said in a low voice, “And I see where you got those killer eyes.”
He smirked, grabbed her hand, and led her down the hall.
The wood-paneled living room was lined with bookshelves and a wood fire crackled and blazed in a stone fireplace. A tall, broad man with a cue-ball head goosed a log with a poker, causing a shower of sparks. Spotting them, he beamed and threw wide his arms. “Welcome, welcome! Mama and I have been looking forward to your visit.”
After giving Jack a back-slapping man hug, he reached out a country-ham-sized hand to Linny and enveloped her hand in it. His eyes sparkled and his gaze was direct. “Welcome, my dear. Any friend of Jack’s is a friend of ours.”
Ceecee bustled in with plates of hors d’oeuvre. “I need to confess, I didn’t actually make these cheese straws myself because there’s a lady down at Oakwood Café who makes them much better than I ever could. Mine just never have the right crunch to them, even though I follow the recipe from Southern Living exactly.” She gave a helpless shrug and raised her hands palms up.
Rush gazed at his wife affectionately and held up a finger. “Sweet cakes, I need to get to my bartending, don’t I?” He padded over to a bar cart in his Wallabees, his wide-wale corduroys making a swish, swish sound as he walked. He looked at Jack and Linny and held up a red book. “Now this is a classic: Mr. Boston Official Bartender’s Guide. I have a couple of suggestions if you kids want to try an old-timey cocktail.”
Once they’d settled on couches in front of the fire, Linny nibbled on a cheese straw and took a tentative sip of her Grasshopper. Not bad in a drink-your-mouthwash kind of way.
“How was Florida?” Jack asked, sipping the beer he’d managed to wrangle from his shaker-wielding father, who’d tried to talk him into a drink called a Corpse Reviver.
His mother took a fortifying sip of her Pink Squirrel and began. “All the old crowd was there and looking well, except for Bertie Charles, who had a heart attack last fall . . .”
At the exact same moment Ceecee began to speak, Rush uncrossed his long legs and dug into the conversation. “The golf was great. They’ve had just the right amount of rain and the courses were in fine shape . . .”
Linny’s eyes widened. One story came in her left ear, the other in the right.
Ceecee nodded enthusiastically and went on. “. . . but he’s been in cardiac rehab and looks ten years younger than he did when he was carrying around all that extra weight . . .”
Rush warmed to the golf course topic. “. . . shot my best round ever at Coral Seas, and that’s a tricky course. Even saw gators on a few holes.”
Linny tried to give an interested gaze to first one and then the other, concentrating on keeping her head still so she wouldn’t look like she was watching a ping-pong match.
“. . . and we saw simply marvelous performances of Così Fan Tutte and La Bohème at the Sarasota Opera House. Also, I talked the girls into taking classes in flower arranging and beginner’s tap dancing, of all things.” Ceecee blushed prettily and waved a hand.
“. . . a three-hundred eighty-five-foot par three with a tight landing area. Numbers six and eight had tee shots over water and trouble everywhere around those greens.” Jack’s father gave a rueful chuckle.
Linny shot a quick look at Jack and, when she caught his eye, could see he was trying to hide a smile. So, this is what he meant by chatty.
Finishing almost at the same moment, Rush and Ceecee nodded and smiled vaguely at each other and then at their guests. The silence spun out.
Linny looked at Jack expectantly and swallowed loudly. Some response to this tandem travelogue seemed in order, but she had no idea what to say.
“Sounds like a swell time,” Jack offered.
“Great,” Rush said, the same moment as Ceecee said, “Lovely.”
All four of them nodded, and Linny took a large swallow of her drink.
Ceecee said brightly, “The Suttons came to see us for a long weekend.”
Jack was very still for a moment and said stiffly, “Good.”
Linny shot a quick look at Jack and then his mother.
Ceecee adjusted a watch that had slipped up her wrist. “They’re thinking about buying in Captiva. I’d just love to have them so close by.”
Linny’s chest tightened as she intercepted the warning glance Rush seemed to be trying to send to Ceecee, who wasn’t meeting his eyes. What was this tension about?
“It seemed almost like the old times.” Ceecee said, sounding wistful.
Rush rose so hurriedly, he sloshed what remained of his Sidecar on the carpet. “How are the drinks? How about a little freshener?” he boomed, swiping the carpet with his cocktail napkin. As he busied himself at the bar cart, he called over his shoulder, “Son, how is the Wolfpack going to do in the tournament?”
Linny saw Jack’s shoulders relax and his face grow animated. “If Virginia loses to Notre Dame and Wake Forest wins their game, we might have a chance.”
The men talked and Linny exhaled, relieved that the storm seemed to have passed. What had Jack and Rush gotten so tense about?
“Sausage ball? Another cheese straw?” Ceecee held out a plate to Linny, the charms on her wrist jingling.
Linny reached for two more cheese straws. “They’re delicious.” Looking for a diversion, she pointed to Ceecee’s wrist. “Tell me about your charms.”
Looking pleased, Ceecee sat down and scooched over on the sofa closer to Linny. Proffering her wrist, she held out shiny slivers. “This is a cardinal and a dogwood.”
Linny nodded, recognizing North Carolina’s state bird and flower.
After explaining the meaning of several charms, Ceecee came to a small gold ring. “This is for our wedding. Rush and I have been married forty years.” She nodded proudly.
Linny sighed inwardly, wondering what the charm would be for her last marriage, which had lasted six months. Maybe the secret was to ignore each other the way the Averys seemed to do.
Ceecee leaned in and spoke in a confidential tone. “Believe you me, there were some rocky times, but we just persevered. Young people today seem to give up too easily when they have a few little problems in the marriage. . . .” She trailed off, shaking her head sadly.
Linny studied her, trying to decide whether she was a harmless prattler or a woman who sent coded messages. Did she think Linny was divorced, not widowed? Did she think Jack and Vera had given up too easily? She couldn’t get a bead on her. Linny pointed to the last gold bauble, the silhouette of a little bride and groom. “Was this for your wedding, too?”
“Oh, no,” Ceecee said blithely, “This was for Jack and Vera’s wedding.”
Linny blinked. Seemed like it was time to take that particular charm of
f the bracelet. She had a sick feeling that the announcement they were going to make after supper might ruffle feathers.
Having run out of charms, Ceecee slid back to her original spot on the sofa and turned to Linny, a pleasant smile fixed on her face. “Jack says you have your own little business. Aren’t you the smartest thing! Tell me all about it.”
Grateful for the safer topic, Linny launched into an explanation, but after a moment, she saw Ceecee’s confused look and rushed to sum up, “So, mostly I help people who run businesses manage their employees better and make their customers happier.”
Ceecee nodded a bit too enthusiastically. “That sounds just darling.” She shook her head apologetically. “Mind you, I’ve never worked outside the home. I just stayed home and took care of my family. Work on the home front is so important.”
Linny nodded sagely but felt her face redden, wondering if she was being sent another message. Maybe she should stay home and take better care of Roy, keep him from running with a bad pack of dogs, stealing chickens.
Ceecee patted her hand. “I’m so glad you and Jack have become friends.”
Wasn’t a dinner with the parents special, or did Jack invite women friends to meals all the time? Linny felt a flare of irritation at Jack, and the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Willing herself to cool down, she said in an even tone, “We’re actually more than friends. We’re dating.”
Ceecee’s eyes widened, but she smiled. “Well, my goodness. How sweet!” She wagged a finger at Jack. “You naughty boy! You’ve kept this young lady a bit of a secret.”
Linny sent Jack a questioning look and he rubbed his jaw, looking sheepish. “You know I’m not one for long phone calls, Mama.”
Ceecee just tsked and gave him an indulgent smile. Glancing at her watch, she rose. “Oopsie. I need to get supper on the table.”
“Please let me help,” Linny said and started to rise.
“No, no, my dear. You just relax.” Ceecee trotted toward the kitchen, moving fast in those clacking heels.
Linny cocked her head, the butterflies in her stomach revving up again. Had Jack even mentioned her in his phone calls with his parents? Did they even know Jack and Linny were in love? How would Ceecee react to them getting married? She snagged her fifth cheese straw and, with a quick glance over to make sure the men weren’t watching her, munched it, having trouble getting it in her mouth fast enough. She rolled her shoulders, trying to get them to go back to where they belonged. There were eddies and undercurrents she didn’t get.
“Supper’s ready,” Ceecee trilled, and they filed into the dining room. “This is a new recipe, called baked fried chicken,” she announced, and they all dug in. She turned to Linny and shook her head as she confided, “I’ve been a country cook my whole life and I’m having to learn to cook a new way. Rush had a little heart incident last year.”
Linny nodded, thinking about her recent cooking ventures. “I’ve been trying out a website called Recipes for Picky Eaters . . .”
Ceecee cocked her head. “Who do you cook for that’s a picky eater?”
“Well, Neal is . . .” She trailed off as she watched Ceecee’s eyebrows shoot up as the woman registered that their dating had to be more than casual if Neal was involved. Linny flushed and reminded herself to pinch Jack when she got him back in the truck.
“Oh my. We need more gravy.” Ceecee whirled back to the kitchen, gravy boat in hand.
After supper they moved to the living room, and Jack’s mother trotted off to brew decaf. Half-listening to the men rumble on about the legislators and their shenanigans, Linny wandered over to look at the family photographs that lined the walls and froze. Almost all the photos on one wall were of Vera and Jack: the achingly handsome young couple walking down the aisle in their wedding finery, holding hands and looking triumphant. Next, a tired-looking but ethereal Vera in a hospital bed, nuzzling a newborn Neal, with Jack looking on, bursting with pride. In the next frame, Jack, Vera, and toothless toddler Neal were building a sand castle at the beach and, finally, a photo of Vera and Ceecee in tennis whites beaming at the camera, each holding up an arm of a giant silver trophy. A cold knot formed in her stomach.
When Rush excused himself to go to the “little boy’s room,” Linny turned to Jack and just pointed to the photographs.
He winced, strode over, and put a hand on her shoulder, his voice hoarse with feeling. “Mama holds on to the past, Linny. I’ll get her to take these down.” He tried to pull her into his arms, but she stood unyielding, pushing him away.
Linny put a finger to her temple, feeling the stab of what could be a doozy of a headache coming on. She inclined her head toward the photos. “We can talk about this later,” she said stiffly and made a decision. Gazing at him steadily, she said, “Let’s not tell them about the engagement yet.”
Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose and was quiet for a long moment. “If that’s what you want,” he said doubtfully as he peered at her to get a read on her mood.
Linny tried to hide how hurt she felt. “That’s what I want.”
Jack nodded glumly, shoving his hands into his pockets.
* * *
The first few minutes of the truck ride home passed in tense silence. Jack drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and turned to her. “Are you mad?”
“Yeah,” Linny admitted, refusing to look at him. “But I’m confused, too. Do you and your parents really talk to one another? Why didn’t you tell them more about us? And what’s the story with your mother’s attachment to Vera?”
Jack rubbed his chin and grimaced. “You see what Mama’s like. It’s like trying to talk with a fire hose trained on you. I just tell her the highlights.”
Linny’s voice quivered. “Aren’t I a highlight?”
“Aw, Lin. You know you are. You’re my world,” he said, his voice gruff and thick. “I guess I just wanted them to get to know you before we told them the news, and she does have this bond with Vera. . . .”
She exhaled loudly. “I’ll say.” A thought rushed to her, and she rubbed her forehead with her fingers, trying to still the throbbing. “I take it the Suttons are Vera’s parents?”
Jack nodded and explained, “Mama and Macy Sutton were best friends for most all their lives. They were in each other’s weddings and had long ago cooked up the idea that Vera and I would marry.”
Linny fiddled with a button on her coat as she pieced it together. “And your mama still thinks Vera was the perfect daughter-in-law.” She shot a nervous glance at Jack, knowing she was poking a sore spot, but she had to ask. “Do your parents know she ended the marriage, and that she began dating Chaz suspiciously soon after she left you?”
He was silent for a long moment, then said tersely, “They don’t know and won’t, if I can help it.” The muscle in his jaw muscle worked as he admitted, “I just told Mama and Daddy we’d grown apart.”
“That’s only a half truth, though.” Linny tried to tamp down her exasperation.
In a flinty voice, he said, “I don’t want Neal to ever know the details and think badly of his mother.” He shot her a glance. “I played my part in things falling apart.”
“You told me you didn’t listen very well,” Linny said, unconvinced.
“I didn’t talk much either. We didn’t seem to have much in common,” he admitted. “When things got bad, I tried to get her to see a marriage counselor, but she said no. She was already planning a life with Chaz.”
Linny knew how hard this was for him to talk about.
He shook his head. “If we’d have been closer, the marriage wouldn’t have broken up.”
“Maybe,” she said, doubting it. Even if Jack was a Dr. Phil of a listener, Linny guessed Vera wanted more than he could ever give her: more status, more money, more adulation, more social buzz. Linny paused and blurted out a question she’d never had the nerve to ask. “What exactly is the appeal of Vera? I mean, besides the obvious.” Linny wilted just thinking about the blonde’s por
celain skin, darling figure, sexy voice, athleticism. . . .
Jack was quiet for a moment. “She could make me feel like I was the most important guy in the world. She’d tell me how smart I was and laugh at all my jokes,” Jack explained, sounding chagrined.
“Ah, a charmer,” Linny said quietly. Her late husband, Buck, had honed those same skills. You’d be basking in the warmth of his attention and thinking he was a prince while he picked your pocket or stole your wife.
Jack changed lanes. “Telling you about it makes me feel like a chump.”
“Don’t,” Linny said fiercely, and in the glow of the dashboard, she saw the muscle in his jaw tense. Reaching over, she squeezed Jack’s hand, and he squeezed back.
Both were quiet, lost in their thoughts. Love would be so much easier if they didn’t have to carry around the burden of all their disappointments, the ghosts of past loves. Add the complication of families and love got even trickier.
The moon shone down a hard yellow light, illuminating fallow fields and craggy tree lines. Linny turned on the radio, but each song that played was sad. Patty Griffin sang “When It Don’t Come Easy,” and Steve Earle sang the “Fort Worth Blues.” Linny looked out the window as they passed dark houses and just felt lonely.
CHAPTER 5
Dream Wedding Venue
The next morning Linny leaned underneath the kitchen table and, with satisfaction, caught the giant tumbleweed of dog hair with the wand of the vacuum cleaner. Glancing at the see-through canister, she shook her head. It was almost a quarter full, even though she’d emptied it before she’d started. How two dogs could generate so much hair was beyond her.
She vacuumed briskly, trying to shake off her hangover funk from last night, but so far it wasn’t working. As she pushed the hose back in its holder and ran rows across the wood floors in the living room, she kept rerunning the movie in her head. Ceecee prattled about the Suttons and couples giving up too soon on marriages. Was she a well-meaning but clueless ditherer or the queen of passive-aggressive behavior? If she were the latter, Linny would have to deal with that quicksand for the rest of her life. Linny edged the vacuum into a corner she’d missed. Then there was the wall shrine to Vera and Jack, the engagement news that never got shared, and the conversation on the ride home.
