by Katie Ashley
I smiled. “I remember that, too.”
Mom handed Scooby back to me, and I set him in the middle of the lacy pillows on the bed.
After we finished unpacking the suitcase, I picked up my toiletry bag and headed to the bathroom. I let out a low whistle when I opened the door. I’d forgotten the uptown bathrooms with their pink and white marble floors, double marble vanity, and beveled glass doors on the double shower.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Mom called from the bedroom.
“Oh yeah, it’s something,” I replied, dumping my makeup into one of the vanity drawers. My bathroom back home was done in my favorite color, purple, and it had fuzzy bathroom rugs that I loved curling my toes in while getting ready.
Mom came to the bathroom doorway. “Now that you’re almost finished unpacking, you can unwind. Dinner is promptly at five.”
A glance at my watch told me it was already four. I nodded. “Okay, sure.”
I followed Mom out of the bathroom. She started to the bedroom door. Her hand hovered over the doorknob before she turned back to me. “Julianne, I am sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have been late to meet you and all.”
I shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“And no matter what has happened in the past, I’m very glad you’ve come to stay with me.”
Stunned, I finally managed to murmur, “Thanks.”
When the door closed, I collapsed onto the bed, popped my earbuds in and started jamming out to some familiar tunes on my iPod. Exhausted from the rollercoaster ride of a day, I fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter Four
A rapping at the door woke me up. Mom’s muffled voice cut through my drowsiness. “Julianne, it’s almost time for dinner. Freshen up and come downstairs to the dining room.”
I didn’t know exactly what she meant by “freshen up”, but I called back, “Okay.”
After I dragged my behind out of bed, I rifled through the bureau and pulled out a nicer pair of jeans. I washed my face and combed out my hair before throwing on the new jeans and heading downstairs.
The others were already seated at the massive twenty-chair dining room table. Over their heads, a glittering chandelier illuminated the dark paneled room. As I slid into my seat, Alice, the housekeeper (yes, there was actually a housekeeper/cook who prepared the main meals) poured sweet tea into my wine goblet. All the other Percy women were having wine.
First, Alice brought out a Caesar salad. Following that was her signature Tomato Bisque soup. And when the final entrée was brought out, it was just as I had hoped—a true Southern dinner of fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and fried okra.
I glanced up from my plate in shock. “It’s all of my favorites.”
Mom smiled. “When I asked your father what you liked to eat, I was glad some of your favorites hadn’t changed since you were little.”
I felt a knot forming in my throat, but I managed to murmur a quick thank you before digging in.
Mom and Aunt Lenore were served grilled chicken, rather than fried, as well as steamed carrots in the place of the macaroni and cheese and okra. I guess they had to watch their figures. As far as I was concerned, I’d rather gorge on fried chicken and mac and cheese and be fat than have to eat steamed chicken and carrots.
But most likely, I’d just run until I collapsed in the morning to counteract all the calories I planned to consume. I ran daily, not only to burn calories, but because one rule of Bounty Hunting 101 was staying in good physical condition. Sometimes you needed to literally run down a fugitive if they took off on foot.
I had just spooned in a giant mouthful of macaroni and cheese when the front door slammed. Then came the distinct sound of stilettos pattering across the hardwood floor. I gulped just as Bryn appeared in the doorway. Even though I hadn’t seen her in probably three or four years, she always looked like she had just stepped off a fashion show runway. She was only a year older than me, but we were as different as night and day.
Bryn was tall and willowy with jet black hair styled into a chin length bob. She oozed confidence, and with her looks and designer clothes, it was easy to see why. When she met my gaze, her dark eyes narrowed. Wow, it wasn’t like I was expecting us to run into each other’s arms like long lost relatives, but the stare down seemed a little harsh.
Mom cleared her throat. “Bryn, you remembered that Julianne was coming to stay with us, didn’t you?”
Her gaze snapped to Mom’s. “Yeah, I remembered.” She then turned back to me and forced a smile. “Nice to see you, Jules.”
“Nice to see you, too.”
She eased down in the seat across from me. When she caught a glimpse at my plate, she recoiled in horror. “Is that what Alice is serving tonight?”
I gripped my fork, fighting the urge to hurl it at her. “No, all the high fat, high carb, artery clogging goodness is just for me. Your figure is safe.”
Aunt Vivian turned a chuckle into a cough. When she had regained her composure, she said, “Bryn, you’re just in time to hear all the details of Julianne’s party.” She dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “You are going to be here Friday night, aren’t you?”
Bryn glanced over to her mother. Aunt Lenore gave a quick bob of her head. Bryn then flashed a winning smile. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Good. I’m sure you won’t mind introducing Jules to your friends, especially the good-looking single ones.”
Bryn’s perfectly sculpted brows raised in surprise. “You don’t have a boyfriend, Jules?”
The mocking tone of her voice made me jab at my chicken.
“No, I don’t.”
Aunt Vivian smiled. “Well, as gorgeous as you are, I guarantee you’ll have one by the end of the summer—maybe even the end of the week!”
I couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. “Maybe so.”
“Now let’s talk about this party. First of all, we’ll have a musical ensemble, probably a quartet—”
I snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding me? A musical ensemble?”
Aunt Vivian ignored my skepticism and kept on talking. “There’ll be a tent on the back lawn for overflow out of the ballroom. Then I’ve booked a caterer to handle the food since Alice simply cannot prepare for two hundred people.”
My mouth-watering chicken dried in my throat, and I almost choked. Once I washed it down with tea, I croaked, “Two hundred people are coming to my party?”
“Why yes, of course. Did you think I exaggerated when I said our parties were known for being grand?”
“I guess I did.”
Mom must have noticed my discomfort. “Don’t be nervous, Julianne. We’ll get someone to practice dancing with you, so you’ll know how to do the waltz in case someone asks.”
My fork clattered noisily onto my plate. “You want me to do dance lessons too?”
Aunt Vivian bobbed her head.
“Listen, I think it’s really cool you want to do this party thing for me, but I really don’t need one. Especially one with quartets and dance lessons. That’s not me at all.”
“Obviously,” Bryn muttered.
Before I could come back with a smartass response, Mom said, “I’m sorry you feel that way, Julianne. But the party has already been planned, and it would be poor form to cancel it now. Maybe you’ll feel differently after we take you shopping and get you fixed up.”
Okay, that was it. Bryn being a bitch was one thing, but Mom wanting to transform me into a Bryn clone was way too much. All the anger and resentment of the last few years bubbled to the surface, and I slammed my napkin down on the table. “I’m sorry, Annabel. Am I embarrassing you in my clothes? Is it giving you horrible flashbacks of the life you used to lead in that Podunk town in Texas?”
Mom’s blue eyes narrowed at me. “I would prefer you not call me by my first name.”
“Yeah, well, I think your ‘Mom’ title got revoked the day you blew out of town!”
“Why do you insist on making
everything so difficult?” Mom demanded.
“Me? I’m not the one who abandoned their husband and kids!”
“Yes, but does that give you the right to punish me every moment you’re here?”
I shook my head in disbelief. “You can’t even say you’re sorry, can you?”
Mom gave an exasperated sigh. “And if I did, would you stop treating me so wretchedly?”
“Not just no, but hell no!”
“Julianne,” Aunt Vivian cautioned.
I shot out of my seat. “How can you sit there in your thousand dollar dress and act like you weren’t the same person who wore sweatpants around the house and dresses from Sears?”
Aunt Lenore gasped. “Oh Annabel, please tell me you didn’t? That’s positively mortifying!”
“Oh shut up!” I snapped.
Mom’s eyes widened. “Julianne, you will respect your elders!”
I ignored her and continued on. “I don’t understand how you could just walk away from your family and trade it for this,” I motioned around the dining room. “Where were you when I started my period when I was barely eleven, and Dad had to talk me down from the ledge because I thought I was hemorrhaging to death? Where were you when my first boyfriend dumped me for my best friend? Where were you when Colt’s appendix burst, and he almost died? Oh yeah, you were here with all these phonies playing at being Miss Scarlett!”
With her mouth gaping in horror, Mom stared at me like I was some spawn of Satan rather than her own flesh and blood. She rose out of her chair. “Please excuse me,” she murmured before fleeing the dining room. The sound of her heels echoed off the hardwood floors.
Aunt Vivian took a long gulp of her wine before asking, “Julianne, was that really necessary?”
I threw up my hands. “So now it’s my fault what Mom did?”
“That’s not what I was saying.”
“No, I think I know what you mean. I’m just some rude, selfish girl who has to ruin her perfect mother’s day. Well, screw that, and screw you!”
And with that, I stalked out of the dining room. On my way out, I heard Bryn say, “What a brat! I can’t believe I’m going to have to be seen with her.” Tuning her out, I pounded up the stairs. After I slammed the door, I flopped down on the bed. Angry tears blinded my eyes as I clutched my stuffed Scooby Doo to my chest. I finally let go and began sobbing uncontrollably. I wanted my dad and my brothers and my grandparents. I didn’t want to be in this cold and unfeeling house with a mom who hated me.
A gentle rapping came at the door. “Go away, I don’t want to talk to you!” I shouted.
“Julianne, it’s Aunt Vivian.”
“I don’t care. Go away.”
“This is my home, and you will not speak to me that way. Now open this door before I get the key!”
“Fine,” I grumbled, as I rolled out of bed and unlocked the door.
It creaked open. Without a hello or anything, Aunt Viv said, “Get up and wash your face.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you to take a walk with me.” When I opened my mouth to argue, Aunt Vivian shook her head. “This isn’t really a request, Julianne. It is an order.”
I growled in frustration as I stalked into the bathroom. After splashing water on my face, I came back out. Crossing my arms over my chest, I shot Aunt Vivian a look.
“Good, let’s go.”
I followed her down the staircase and out the back door, through the driveway and onto the sidewalk.
After walking in silence for a few minutes, Aunt Vivian drew in a ragged breath. “Julianne, you have every right to be angry with your mother. What she did was inexcusable.”
I skidded to a stop. “It was?”
Aunt Vivian nodded. “I’m telling you exactly as I told her when she decided to stay here all those years ago. In fact, I didn’t speak to her for a long time.”
“Wow, that’s intense,” I murmured.
“Your mother is a very intense woman, as I’m sure you know. Most of the Percy women are. They either run at a boiling point or they’re emotionally inadequate. But regardless of our temperaments, it doesn’t excuse our behavior.”
“But what do you have to be sorry for? You never ran away from your husband just because you didn’t like his profession. And you never abandoned your kids.”
“That’s true. But I never committed to any man for very long, not to mention having children. Each of us takes a different rebellious path.”
I shook my head. “Yeah, well, your rebellious path led to good things for lots of people.”
Aunt Vivian smiled. “I assume you’re referencing my wild days of protest during the 60’s.”
I nodded. “Mom always told the boys and me about how you got blackballed from society for like ten years for marching during the Civil Rights Movement. When I think about how you walked with Martin Luther King and John Lewis and Jesse Jackson…it’s inspiring.”
Aunt Vivian appeared wistful. “I have to say it was very inspiring in the moment—being a part of history like that. I’ve never regretted anything I did during those years, even seeing the inside of a few Georgia jail cells.”
“It’s not like you were committing real crimes or anything. You were trying to ensure that all people had the rights they deserved. That,” I emphasized, “is honorable.”
“I suppose it was. But just because your mother wasn’t marching in Selma or Atlanta doesn’t mean you have to hate her for her form of rebellion.”
“What she did wasn’t rebellion! It was downright selfishness.”
“Yes, it was. And you can rest assured that your mother has paid for what she did.”
“Yeah right,” I snorted.
“It’s the truth. Despite what you think, those first few years weren’t the best. I think there were many times she regretted what she did. I’d wager she even wanted to come back, but she just didn’t know how.”
“Um, it’s called Delta or United or Jetblue. They fly you anywhere in the world!”
Aunt Vivian sighed. “Yes, I know it would seem that simple at your age, but sometimes you come so far you don’t know how to get yourself back.”
“So what is your point, Aunt Viv? I mean, do you want me to play nice with Mom? Like pretend that things aren’t the way they are, and that we have the perfect mother daughter relationship?”
She wagged her finger at me like Big Mama always did. “Anger is a dangerous emotion, Julianne. It eats away at us until we’re hardened and bitter shells of our former selves.”
“So tell me what you want me to do,” I replied.
“Ease up a bit. Give your mother a chance. Don’t play every conversation as calculating as a chess game. Try to appreciate her for the person she is, not the mother you hoped she would be.”
I weighed Aunt Viv’s words. Deep down, I knew she was right. Mom was never going to be the mother I wanted her to be. Because of that, I might as well suck it up and try to be as nice as I could, no matter how much it pained me.
“Okay, fine, I’ll do better.”
Aunt Vivian smiled as she reached over to hug me. “That’s my girl.” When I pulled away, she fanned herself. “Lord, we better get on back home before I expire. It’s positively roasting out here.”
I laughed and fell into step with her. Aunt Vivian pointed when we passed by a brick mansion. “Right there is Mercer house where Jim Williams lived.” At my blank expression, Aunt Viv chuckled. “You know, it was a big society scandal over whether Jim shot that rascal Danny Lansford in self-defense or cold blood. He got tried four times! There was that book about it, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, and they made a movie.”
“Oh, yeah, now I remember.” I did have a vague memory of watching the movie before Mom left. She had sat on the edge of her seat the entire time telling us how she was connected with some of the famous people and places in the movie.
“I used to get invited to all his parties. Why I was even at his last Christmas party before he di
ed. Had a heart attack in the very room where Lansford was shot. Very sad.”
We continued strolling on back up the street. After we’d turned the corner, Aunt Vivian gazed up at one of the houses. “Why hello there!” she called to a well-dressed woman standing on the porch. With one of those plastered on fake smiles, the woman came down the porch steps to meet us.
“Hello Vivian. How are you?” she asked.
“Just lovely, Lynette, thank you. And you?”
“Fine.”
“Allow me to introduce Annabel’s daughter, Julianne.”
Lynette sized me up from head to toe, and then reluctantly extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” From the way she said it, I could tell it was anything but a pleasure.
“Nice to meet you, too.”
For some reason, Lynette looked familiar to me. Before I could figure it out, a black Mercedes convertible screeched into the driveway, narrowly missing us. A figure emerged out of the car, and I gasped.
Oh. My. God. There he was. Jackson Marshall, in the flesh. And it was a considerable amount of flesh since he had apparently just come from working out. He’d stripped off his shirt and was outfitted only in red gym shorts and running shoes. I might not have had a lot of experience with guys, but I knew a righteous body when I saw one. Seeing him like that made me wonder, considering my lack of guy experience and his extreme hotness, how I would ever get close enough to get any information out of him.
“Jackson, we have visitors,” Lynette called, a disdainful look etching across her face. I suppose showing his glistening, bare chest to Aunt Vivian and me was considered highly improper. He reluctantly reached into his bag and pulled out a shirt. I sighed with disappointment as he pulled it over his head.
He then trotted over to us. Aunt Vivian gave him her most vivacious smile. “Well, well, if it isn’t the very handsome Jackson Marshall.”
He returned her smile. “Howdy Miss Vivian.”
“Julianne,” Aunt Vivian began, “This fine, strapping young man is your cousin Bryn’s boyfriend.”
I fought to keep from nose-diving straight onto the pavement. It was like my world had shuddered to a stop on its axis. How could this be happening? The very boy I needed to get close to was dating the most wretched person on the planet. This was a nightmare.
