23. Ansley Witch Hunt
ansley: witch hunt
I HAD MANAGED TO MAKE it days now with only short conversations and snippets of texts with Jack. He was coming home tomorrow, and I knew I had to do it. I knew I had to face the reality that he might be involved in something that would make me very, very upset. But that was a problem for tomorrow.
For today, things were going well. The hay had been delivered.
My checklist for the Halloween Hoedown was dwindling by the day.
And Mrs. McClasky and I had collected more than a thousand signatures—a third of the population of Peachtree Bluff—for our Keep Our Docks Public petition.
What was potentially even better? Hal, Kimmy, Keith, Mrs. McClasky, and I had called a few of the town’s wealthiest residents, who we knew would want to invest in this project, and they had pledged half the money needed for the dock renovations.
We had a meeting with the mayor on Monday, and we wanted to walk in with solutions, not righteous indignation.
Well, okay, there would probably be a little of both.
But we were only human. And the human truth was that we all felt extremely hurt and blindsided that the powers that be in our town could go behind our backs like this.
The idea that my husband could have masterminded the whole affair…
Well, that was something I couldn’t even entertain yet.
I was dusting the glass pumpkin display and arranging some fall landscapes that Sloane had painted—how she had found the time to paint them, I didn’t know.
I worried about how busy that child had gotten.
She was my only one that needed peace, and she couldn’t have been getting much of that lately.
The bell on the door tinkled and I was saying “Welcome to Sloane Emerson!” as I turned around.
But it wasn’t a customer. Backlit by the sun, and a day early, a bouquet of wildflowers in his hands, was my husband.
And, for a second, he took my breath away.
I was reminded of the day all those years ago that he walked back into my store and my life after being absent from it for decades.
The way my heart raced. The way that, in that moment, I would have fought any battle, sacrificed anything, to be with the man I loved.
I forgot about how upset and uncertain I had been.
I was only flooded with relief. I dropped my Swiffer duster and ran to that man, kissing him, smushing the flowers between us.
All I knew was that, even if we were on opposite sides of the same fence, even if he was trying to sell out my town while I was trying to save it, he was the great love of my life.
I wouldn’t always like what he did. But I would always love him.
Jack, with the flowers in one hand, wrapped me in his arms and kissed me again. “I flew home a day early because you had been so short I got the feeling you were mad at me and I wanted to come apologize for the thing I don’t know I’ve done.”
I laughed. “I’m not mad at you,” I said. At least, I hope I’m not, I added in my head.
“Well, you’d just been so unreachable. And I missed the hell out of you.” He took my hand and led me behind the counter to the long table at the back of the store where I met with design clients. “Can you sit down?” he asked.
My heart started racing because was this it? Was he going to admit this awful thing he had done? And then what? I couldn’t lose another husband. But could I be with him if he’d betrayed me like this?
I sat down in my usual seat at the head of the table, and he sat catty-corner to me.
“Look, I’ve been going through all these scenarios in my head of how we could make this work.
I could go back and forth, and you wouldn’t have to leave.
Honey, I know you don’t want to go to Chicago.
I know you only want to be here. But I can’t do it.
I don’t want to be apart from you. I’ve fought to be with you since I was sixteen years old, and I can’t just have this long-distance relationship—even for a year or two. ”
It was so sweet that, for a moment, I thought all of this had to be in the town’s head. But, then again, was he going to Chicago—and taking me with him—to get away from the scandal? Ansley, stop, I scolded myself.
“So I thought, what would make Ansley Murphy want to be with me in Chicago?” He pulled out his phone.
“And then I asked myself, what does Ansley love more than anything in the world except her family?” He held out his phone.
“And that’s when it hit me: real estate.
If I am going to persuade the love of my life to spend a good chunk of her year in Chicago, I don’t need diamonds.
I don’t need fancy wine. I need a pied-à-terre that will knock her socks off. ”
I had to laugh. I took his phone, which was open to a page obviously generated by a Realtor with home choices for me.
The prices made my eyes nearly bug out of my head.
I forgot sometimes what had happened to Peachtree real estate prices too.
It was crazy. And then I realized that Jack obviously wasn’t having money problems. If he were, he wouldn’t be wooing me with multimillion-dollar real estate.
“Honey, I don’t think it makes much sense to spend this much on a property just to turn around and sell it in a year or two.”
“It’s a good investment,” he said. “Open the second one.”
I gasped. The views of the lake… The yards and yards of white marble in the kitchen…
The light, open spaces. It was the exact opposite of my Peachtree Bluff house—which I loved with my whole heart, by the way.
But the designer in me loves to work in multiple types of homes.
And I’d never done anything this crisp, clean, and modern.
I was already mentally placing furniture.
“Don’t be mad,” Jack said, and my heart dropped again. “But I made an offer on that one. I just knew you would love it, and I don’t know if they’ll even take it, but I couldn’t risk it getting away.”
I put my head in my hands. I still didn’t want to move to Chicago.
But I loved my husband. So I would. But I had to talk to him about this huge elephant in the room before it ate me alive.
I didn’t know exactly how to broach the subject.
Fortunately, I was saved by the bell. The door opened and who should appear? None other than Mrs. McClasky.
“There he is!” she shrieked like she was on a witch hunt. “The traitor himself!” She charged behind the counter like she owned the place.
Jack looked mystified.
He rolled his eyes at me and looked very confused when I didn’t roll my eyes back.
He put his hands up. “Well, hello, Mrs. McClasky. What a fine welcome home from you, as always.”
“So you don’t deny it,” she said, crossing her arms.
“Don’t deny what? I mean, yes. I’m denying whatever this is, but I don’t know what it is.”
She looked at me. I felt like the rest of my life hung on the next few moments. “Sweetheart,” I said calmly. “The town council decided in closed session to sell the town docks to Port-of-Call Properties.”
“What?” Jack erupted, popping up out of his chair.
“They can’t do that! And they certainly can’t do it without me.
I am the commodore!” He started pacing back and forth in the small space, muttering, maybe to us, but mostly to himself, it seemed, “And to Port-of-Call Properties? Those idiots will ruin this town! Ruin it!” Then he stopped on a dime, wild-eyed, and looked at Mrs. McClasky and me.
“We have to stop this! We will stop this!”
Mrs. McClasky laughed as I threw myself into Jack’s arms. “I knew you didn’t have anything to do with this! I just knew it!”
Jack looked down at me. “You knew about this? And you didn’t tell me? What is wrong with you?”
Not a kind thing to say necessarily, but I understood that he was very upset.
“I think it’s safe to say he is not getting a large kickback from Port-of-Call Properties,” Mrs. McClasky said.
Jack laughed. “I’m not going to pretend they didn’t make me rich, but whoever made this deal made a deal with the devil. I guarantee you all that money they think they’re going to get is predicated on some shifty profit that will never materialize.” He paused. “So, what are we doing?”
We filled him in on the signs around town, the petition, the fundraising, the meeting with the mayor. “Oh, I’m coming to that meeting!” Jack said. “I’ve worked with these people. The mayor needs to hear from me!”
I nodded. “I think that would be great.”
Then Jack smiled at us. “You two really whipped this all into shape, didn’t you?”
Mrs. McClasky smiled. “We did a good job, didn’t we?”
Jack whistled. “You really took the bull by the horns.”
Then he took me by the shoulders. “Honey, I’d really, really like to think that you never imagined I could have anything to do with this, so I’m going to let this go.”
I lied a little. A teeny white lie. “No, Jack. I would never think that about you.” And I didn’t. I hadn’t. Not really. I’d let my mind go—ever so temporarily—to a dark place. But that had everything to do with my past and nothing to do with my present with Jack, I reasoned.
He kissed me quickly.
Mrs. McClasky said, “Alright, then. Looks like my work here is done. I’m off to get more signatures. And some coffee.”
And then there were two. “I want to significantly chip in to the fund,” Jack said.
“So you haven’t lost all your money?” I asked.
He looked confused. “I’m sorry. What?”
I bit my lip. “Look, I’ll be honest. I worried a little. I knew you’d never sell the town out, but everyone was saying you had. And I figured the only way you would do that is if you were in horrible financial straits and you just hadn’t told me.”
I figured he’d be mad, but, instead, his face was very sympathetic. “Like Carter.”
I nodded. “Like Carter.”
He took my hand. “Life is uncertain, and I can’t promise you much. But I can promise that I will always tell you the truth.”
Well, that was something. That was most things, really.
“Babe, I want to unpack this with you. I really do. But, for right now, we have a town council to take down.”