Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mary London
“Whose fancy SUV’s dat?” the old man croaks, not bothering to shut the door behind him. Rhett’s going to have a mosquito problem, that’s for sure.
I scramble off of Rhett’s lap, but not in time. Rhett’s papaw stands at the entryway to the living room, swaying on his feet. His coveralls are dirty and threadbare. There isn’t a brown paper sack with a bottle in his hands but you can tell there was earlier. Maybe multiple.
Rhett leaps to his feet and rounds the couch, acting like a physical shield between his papaw and me. “As much as I’d love to visit with you, Papaw, now’s not a good time.”
The old man leans around Rhett and leers at me, his bushy eyebrows drawing together. He points a finger at me accusingly. “She better watch it. That kind of car ’round here’ll get her robbed blind.”
“This isn’t a bad neighborhood,” Rhett says, exasperation clear in his tone. “Hasn’t been for more than a decade.”
I fold my arms across my chest, wishing I had my heels on.
I just feel more powerful in heels. “Mr. Price, I’ve lived in Heaven my whole life and not once have I felt scared to drive around at night.
” I walk forward, still staying behind Rhett but close enough his papaw can see my cajoling smile.
I’ve learned drunks respond better to teasing, not harsh words that rile them up even more.
“Are you trying to scare me off your grandson?”
He sways to the other side, spreading his bony arms wide. “I’m jus’ tryin’ to figure out what my boy is doing with a rich girl like you.”
“That’s enough, Papaw. It’s time you went home. You didn’t drive here, did you?” Rhett puts his hands on his grandfather’s shoulders and maneuvers him around. He perp-walks him to the front door. I follow behind at a safe distance.
“’Course I didn’t drive!” Papaw grouses. “They took my license!”
“Still manage to get around town though,” Rhett mumbles.
“Whadja say?”
“Nothing, Papaw. Time to go home and sober up.” Rhett pushes him out the door and somehow the man doesn’t stumble.
“Nice to see you, Mr. Price. Best get home before the skeeters carry you off.”
He lumbers down the three steps of the porch before whirling around, that same gnarled finger pointed at us. “Watch yourself with that woman.”
And with that vague threat, he marches off into the night, swaying on his feet and singing some drinking song sure to annoy the neighbors. Rhett watches him go, his shoulders stiff. I put my hand on his back and feel him flinch.
“Hey,” I murmur, taking his hand off the doorknob and closing the door. I spin to face him. “You okay?”
Rhett won’t meet my eyes. He doesn’t answer either, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see his papaw’s visit bothered him. His jaw is clenched as tight as his fists.
“Is it unusual to see him like that?” I ask gently, hoping if I can get him talking about it, he can release some of this stress. I’m about to open a bar, for goodness’ sake. Seeing a drunk person doesn’t faze me.
Rhett snorts and it’s not a happy sound. “It would be surprising to see him sober, Mary London.” His arm lifts to rub the back of his neck and he’s finally meeting my eyes. “I just hate to see him around you, is all.”
I slide my arms around his waist and press myself against his chest. “It’s fine, Rhett. I’m a big girl.”
He returns my hug, but as his chin rests on top of my head, I hear his whispered reply. “No, it’s not okay at all.”
I leave soon after that, the mood of the evening having shifted quite a bit. I can tell Rhett wants some alone time to process things, and while I might like to talk things out, not everyone else does. I can give him space and time.
I’m surprised when I don’t see him at church the next day. He and Rylan had started making that a habit, one I’d come to rely on. Without Rhett sitting next to me, Birdie takes advantage the second the pastor closes the service.
“So, tell me all about your young man,” she whispers.
I keep a serene smile on my face, the one Mama taught me about almost before I learned how to tie my shoes. One doesn’t go into battle with the town gossip without proper armor. “What young man?”
She eyes me from behind a pair of bright red-framed glasses that match her dress today. “Don’t play coy with me, girl. You and Rhett have been attached at the hip lately.”
I dip my head in acknowledgement, looking around for someone else nearby to break off this interrogation. Sadly, everyone is busy in their own conversations and giving Birdie a wide berth.
“Yes, he’s my contractor, so we’ve been spending a ton of time getting the build-out finished.”
Birdie lifts a ringed finger. “Aha! And what’s this I hear about your new business venture being a bar?”
I suck in a deep breath and steel my spine. Here we go. “Yes. I’m opening up a country-western bar. A place for live music and dancing. Do you know The Wolf line dance?”
Birdie gets a saucy smile that spells trouble. “Absolutely not, but I do know the Tamia line dance.”
I wag my eyebrows, knowing exactly the sultry dance she’s referring to. “Well, I’ll make sure we play ‘Can’t Get Enough’ on opening night just for you.”
Birdie hoots and moves away, graciously giving up on asking me about Rhett. I release a shuddering breath, hoping I’ve just jumped through my first hoop successfully. If Birdie approves of my new business, she can get other people on my side and squash any negative rumors.
“Mary London,” comes a deep voice behind me.
That same armored smile gets locked in place before I spin around to greet my father. “Hey, Daddy. How are you?”
He leans in to kiss my cheek, and I squeeze his arm. “Nice to see you. Got time for lunch with your old man?”
“Sorry. I have plans with my friends already.”
He dips his head, a gentle smile on his aging face. “I was hoping to spend some time with you soon. I don’t even know what you’re up to these days.”
My smile hides everything I want to say. “All you have to do is call me.”
He nods, looking chastised. “I would but you’re always with the Price kid.”
“Price kid? You mean Rhett? The grown man?” Anger spikes as it always does when my father focuses on the wrong thing. Instead of trying to connect with me, he’d rather just lecture me on all the ways I’m doing things wrong.
His jaw hardens. Here we go. It’s always this ridiculous cycle with him. This is why we aren’t close. This is why when Mama died, in the depths of my grief, I’d wished God had taken him instead. I’d felt instant guilt for thinking it, but sometimes the truth is harsh.
“Your mama and I didn’t raise you to associate with unsavory people, Mary London. You remember who you are.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Okay, Daddy. Thanks for the outdated lecture.”
“Mary—”
I hold up my hand, cutting him off. “You’re standing here—in church, no less—judging people you don’t even know. You realize that, right?”
“Hey, girl.” Betsy Mae hip-bumps me, followed quickly by Palmer, Anna Claire, and Darby Kate forming a semicircle around me. “Ready for lunch?”
“Excuse me,” I mumble to my father, turning to my friends with a wide-eyed look of thank God you saved me. Betsy just gives me a tight smile like she knows already, which she must. She hears all about Clayton Winthrop’s failures as a father from Silas.
The girls keep up a steady chatter all the way outside where we split up to get in our cars. I end up riding with Darby Kate, who keeps throwing me looks out of the corner of her eye.
“What?” I finally ask.
“I don’t know whether to ask about your father or Rhett or the bar. There’s so much juicy information we need out of you, missy.”
I bite back a smile, thinking of Rhett and the bar. “Wait ’til we get to Flyin’ Pig or I’ll have to tell it all again to the rest of you.”
Darby Kate pulls into a parking space on the Square. “Just tell me this. Is he a good kisser? He looks like he’d be good at it, all dark and glowery and intense.”
My cheeks flush a shade of red that tells her exactly what she wants to know. She squeals and grabs my hands and then I’m squealing with her. God, I needed some time with my friends. There’s so much to catch them up on.
“Come on. Let’s go eat and gossip. We’ve missed you, girl. You work too hard.” Darby Kate squeezes my hands and then we climb out of the car.
I spend the next hour going over my new business venture and what’s been happening with Rhett. The girls all swear to keep things between us, but they seem happy for me.
“Oh God, am I going to be the last single one here?” Darby Kate whines.
I’m quick to try to make her feel better. “Oh, we’re not dating.”
“Sure sounds like you are,” Palmer says wryly.
I shake my head so vigorously, my hair spins like a washing machine. “Nope. We’re keeping things a secret. Just…feeling things out for now.”
Anna Claire, the psychologist in the group, frowns. “Why the secrecy? You’re a grown woman, allowed to date whomever you choose.”
I shrug. “Well, he works for me right now.”
Betsy snorts. “Yeah, and I work for Silas. Didn’t stop us.”
I’m glad she’s finally admitting to dating my brother. “Well, there’s one more thing. His family hates my family and vice versa.”
Palmer claps her hands together and tucks them under her chin. “Oh my God, is this like a Montague-and-Capulet situation?”
The girls all clamor at once, each having their own opinion on the Shakespeare tragedy. Palmer’s comment cuts through the rest.
“Let’s hope not. They both end up dead at the end.”
Our lunch ends with that ominous thought ringing in my head.
Despite being busier than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest, it doesn’t escape my notice that Rhett’s been quiet this week.
It’s already Thursday and I’ve only seen him in passing when I visit the bar after work to check on the progress of the build-out.
He’s got a whole crew working for him now, so there’s never any alone time.
Nor has Rhett reached out to schedule any alone time either.
I’ve had enough of whatever this is. If something about his papaw’s visit bothered him this much, he should be man enough to talk to me about it. Icing me out is unacceptable. So I text him later that evening when he should be home with Rylan.
Me: Hey, ’Lanta, you’ve been quiet. I know your papaw’s visit shook you, but did I do something wrong? Not handle him the way I should have?
The bubble on the screen appears immediately, then drops away.
I sigh and put my phone down to distract myself.
I fill up my bathtub and pour in some bubbles.
My feet are aching again and a bath sounds like heaven even in this lingering warm weather.
Another week or two and the temperatures should lower, giving us exactly three weeks of fall when every tree ’round here will drop their leaves in a rush for winter.
I’ve just sunk down into the glorious perfumed water when my phone pings. I pick it up and try to ignore how my stomach clenches with nerves.
Rhett: No, you didn’t do anything wrong at all.
That’s it. I roll my eyes and pray for the patience of a saint.
Men.
I tell you what, if I didn’t like ’em so much, I’d swear off of ’em entirely.
Me: Then why the distance this week? And don’t say you haven’t backed off. Do me the favor of being honest.
Rhett: I really don’t want to talk about this over text.
Me: Then come over and explain.
Rhett: Can I come over in an hour?
Me: See you then.
I set down my phone and try to relax in my bath.
That proves impossible. If Rhett’s coming over here to break things off with me, I need to look damn good while he breaks my heart.
I do realize we aren’t actually dating, but we have been doing most of the things a normal couple does, just in secret.
If that’s not working for him any longer, I want to look like something he’ll regret for the rest of his life not pursuing.
Then after he leaves, I’ll drown my sorrow in the red velvet cupcake Maggie gave me today.
Or, if he does want to keep pursuing things with me, maybe I can tempt him into my bed finally. And that requires hair, makeup, a cute but casual outfit, and a thorough cleaning of my condo.
When my doorbell rings an hour later, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.