Chapter 24
24
M arriages always occur in the bride’s hometown at the bride’s church. Where the groom hails from is of absolutely no importance in deciding where the wedding shall be.
“You what? ” Jane almost yelled it.
Carlisle pulled her head back, holding her hands out hostage style. She hoped no one in the cafe heard what she’d said. A few had turned to look at Jane’s outburst.
But Carlisle knew she was the one at fault.
Jane was still going, “Three days ago and you didn't tell me?”
At least she didn’t say what it was that Carlisle had withheld. Because that would be some juicy gossip in Breathless, and her Mama would have a thing to say about it—if she didn’t already.
“I'm telling you now,” Carlisle volunteered, a small grin on her lips as she looked furtively around again.
Luckily the sandwich shop was relatively empty in the middle of the afternoon. Though she did recognize two of her mother’s friends, they were on the other side of the shop and had hopefully heard nothing .
Jane had just gotten off shift and her youngest was still in daycare, as childcare didn't tend to run on nursing schedules. That was something Carlisle hadn't learned until she'd befriended another nurse with kids.
The ER must have been busy today, given the way Jane looked, but Carlisle didn’t ask. She didn’t know if she was ready to hear news of the job she’d been fantastic at and then unable to perform lately.
Luckily, Jane had decided to come have a late lunch with her instead of going home and taking a nap. She was now insisting on Carlisle telling her all about the date . . . and the rest of it.
“You did it . . .” she murmured the words in a low tone, “the night before the date?”
“I know. It just kind of happened.” The memory alone could still make her blush.
“Damn, girl.” Jane took a bite of her burger. Then she murmured again, “What I wouldn't give to have your luck.”
“Please. You were married for twelve years. You have four beautiful kids.”
“And an ex-husband who's getting ex-ier by the day.”
That was a word Carlisle had never heard before, but Ex-ier made sense. “What did he do now?”
“Showed up four hours late for his weekend pickup Friday night.” It was silent but, the way her shoulders heaved, Jane was pissed .
“Rude.”
“He only gets a handful of hours with his kids. He dragged out the court case to get that level of custody. You would think he would want to have them.” The next bite of her fries was an angry one. “As I look back, I have come to believe he liked the idea of having more kids to keep me home. That he was more anxious to have the status symbol of the house and the wife and all the pretty children than that he actually wanted children.”
Carlisle took a deep breath. Joe was neither of their favorite topics. But he’d be in Jane’s life until Claire—the youngest—turned eighteen. Once Jane got that off her chest, talk turned to the website.
“Then I got Bailey Ann and Finn to order separately, with two different cards. So it was two orders. So I could see how that went, how it showed on the lists in the back. Addresses and all.” They would be boxing and shipping these first rounds themselves from Carlisle’s garage. Next up, she had to set up a shipping station. Lordy.
“Bailey Ann ordered one kit and Finn ordered three. I told them they could cancel, but they refused.”
“We’re giving them kits. Right?” Jane pushed and Carlisle nodded.
“They said they will accept their gift kits but that these are the ones they are buying for other people in their lives.”
“Wait!” Jane leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes lighting up. The burger was all but forgotten for the moment. “You've already sold four kits?”
Carlisle hadn't thought of it that way. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
“This is our first real sale! Oh my god!” Jane immediately looked around, her hand in the air as she flagged the server as best she could. “We're going to need two top shelf margaritas.”
“In the middle of the afternoon?” Carlisle asked, though she was excited.
“Of course, we'll get a lift home. This is amazing. We need to celebrate!”
The server was excited to help out and headed off to the bar for the drinks. Carlisle pulled out her phone to show Jane the numbers.
“Does this mean you got the mobile app working?”
“And the mobile backside of the app,” Carlisle added. “I’ll give you the log in. We can both check from anywhere we have cell service.” She hadn’t known she needed this until she'd begun. She was grateful for the work, that it was meaningful, that the thing they were selling would give people peace of mind and maybe just save a life.
Jane had suggested it was something to fill her days. It became something her self-motivation could start on because she could start things for Jane , even if she couldn't quite start them for herself yet. Carlisle was bound and determined not to let Jane fail. Because if she would succeed or fail along with her friend, then she was helping herself out too. Even if her brain didn’t believe that directly.
“See?” She held the phone up.
“Carlisle,” Jane said, almost in a chiding tone. “How many did you say they ordered?”
“Four total.”
“Then why does your screen say seven?”
It was a genuine question. Carlisle turned it around. Definitely seven. Shit. Was it not working? Maybe they shouldn't have margaritas yet. She tapped at the buttons angrily, trying to pull up the listings to see where it had gone wrong.
“Oh my god. There’s an order here from Keith Lee, for three more kits.”
“Damn, you Mayfairs are showing up!” Jane declared with a grin.
Their first seven sales.
“Clearly, I have to get on it and get more people to order. We should have gotten double margaritas.”
“It’s just my family.” Carlisle tried to temper it, to not let her excitement run away when it really didn’t mean anything. But she had to add, “I didn’t even tell Keith and Emma Kate about it yet.”
“Baily Ann must have done it. Your family is a network unto itself.” Jane took another bite, thoughtful. “Y'all are like those fungi that grow for acres under the ground, and everything is connected. Something that happens in one spot makes a difference in a place two towns away because of this interconnected network.”
Carlisle laughed. “I think Lennon is the only other person who would appreciate you calling our family a fungus.”
Jane grinned and lit up again as the margaritas arrived. They celebrated until the food was done, then Carlisle turned to more somber thoughts. She didn't mean to, but Jane being the superlative best friend that she was, didn't let it slide.
“What?”
“Charlie's due home in four days.”
“Wow, he's finally got a date and a flight?”
She nodded, not sure how it would go. “Mom's going to pick him up at the airport. I talked Dad and everybody else into staying home. I think they were going to greet him with balloons and firecrackers?—”
“Oh dear lord.” Jane interrupted.
“Exactly.” Carlisle couldn’t help the sigh. Though she’d told her mother that Charlie likely had some kind of PTSD or worse, her Mama still thought some soup and a welcome home party should take care of it. It had taken everything Carlisle had to convince her mother that a party might actually make things worse.
“Do you know anything more?”
“A little bit.” And it hadn't come from Charlie. Carlisle had reached out to one of the army commanders where her brother had been embedded. Luckily, the man had been kind enough to take his personal time to write back. “Apparently, a good bit of what happened is classified.”
“Of course.” Jane had already heard how Charlie had to get his photos cleared during a lot of the outings that he went on with the soldiers.
“There was a raid and Charlie was in the middle of it.”
“What does that mean?” Jane asked, curious and concerned. “ Air raids? Bomb strikes? Missiles? Three dudes with guns sweeping the town?”
“That's just it. No one will tell me any more than that.”
“Yeah, definitely a good thing if your family doesn't go swamp him at the airport.”
“Mom's got the room made up. She's got a grocery list with all his favorite foods. I'm really hoping it's what he needs. If we're lucky,” Carlisle crossed her fingers and took another swallow of the margarita. “It was just a situation that went bad and standard protocol is to send Charlie home.”
But in her heart, she knew that wouldn't be the case. If Charlie was okay, he would have texted and told her how mad he was that they were ending his assignment over nothing. Instead, his silence had spoken volumes.