Читать книгу Manhunting in Mississippi - Stephanie Bond, Stephanie Bond - Страница 8

ALWAYS A BRIDESMAID…and always broke. Fighting the phone cord, Piper Shepherd glanced in the mirror at the yellow satin dress she held draped over her torso. With her cropped, dark hair, the ruffled netting around the shoulders made her look like a molting bird in a nest, but it would do. “Personally, Justine, I think lemon yellow would be stunning for an August wedding.”

Her friend sighed at the other end of the phone, obviously unconvinced. “Mother says yellow won’t stand out in the outdoor photos. Besides, didn’t Barb have yellow for her bridesmaids’ dresses?”

Piper winced. “Did she?” She tossed the dress on her bed, then withdrew a long, off-the-shoulder lavender gown from the closet and held it under her chin. A sloshed usher had ripped off a ribbon rosette during someone’s reception, but the dress was serviceable. “How about lilac?”

“Hmm,” Justine mused, tapping her fingernail against the phone. “Nah, I don’t think it would complement Stewart’s carrottop. Besides, didn’t Sarah use lilac?”

Piper frowned. “Did she?” She tossed the dress on top of the other one and withdrew an emerald organza mini with a sequined cape. “Green would look great next to Stew’s red hair—maybe something short and snazzy to catch the sunlight?”

“I don’t think so,” Justine said slowly. “Green makes me look sallow. Besides, didn’t Joann use green?”

A low throbbing started in Piper’s temple. “Did she?” She discarded the dress, then pivoted back to her closet and flipped through the hangers. “Mauve?”

“Carol.”

“Fuchsia?”

“Cindy.”

“Sapphire?”

“Hmm, wasn’t that your mom’s color?”

Piper grunted. “For which wedding?”

“To Roger, I think.”

Biting back a disrespectful remark, Piper forced her fingers to travel on. “Ruby? Teal? Metallic gold?”

“Jan, Tina and Jennifer.”

Piper jammed her hand through her short hair. “My God, Justine, how on earth do you remember who used which color in what wedding?”

“I just do,” Justine said, and Piper could picture her friend’s thin shoulders shrugging. “But then I’ve always loved weddings—unlike you, Piper. If you’d spent less time moaning about the high heels and more time checking out the groomsmen, you’d be getting married, too. Out of twenty-three of us, you’re the last one, you know.”

Piper frowned. “Not true—Tillie is still single.” Not that being in the same company as their chubby, hypochondriac sorority sister was anything to boast about.

“Uh-uh, she got engaged three weeks ago—haven’t you heard?”

Piper yanked down the phone cord, unaware she had managed to wind it around her neck. “Who to?” she croaked, then unwound herself with an impatient twist.

“She spent so much time at the clinic, she managed to snare a doctor—her diamond is a freaking boulder.”

For an instant, Piper experienced a pang of panic. Even allergic, insomniac, headachy, PMS-ing Tillie had snagged a man—and a rich one, to boot. She sighed and glanced at her watch. She’d promised her grandmother she’d be over to help box up some things for her upcoming move.

“Piper, are you there, or is your life passing before your eyes?”

“I’m here,” she snapped. “And thirty-one doesn’t exactly make me eligible for a discount at the bingo parlor.”

Justine sighed dramatically. “People are beginning to talk, Piper. You would tell me, wouldn’t you, if you were, um…you know.”

“I don’t know what the heck you’re talking about.”

“You know—gay.”

Piper dropped the phone, then chased it across the floor as the spiral cord contracted to pull it home. “No, I’m not gay!” she yelled as she dived on the handset, juggled it and finally wrestled it to her ear. “How could you even think such a thing?” she barked into the phone.

Her friend tapped her fingers against the receiver again. “Piper, I can’t remember you ever having a lasting relationship with a man. A few dates, yeah, but were you ever serious about anyone?”

Piper pursed her lips and fidgeted with the cord. “I guess I’m picky.”

“I’m telling you, Piper, you’d better start hunting for a man before all the good ones are gone.”

“Justine, you’re two hundred miles away in Tupelo where the men are plentiful and passable. I’m in Mudville—when you visited, did you happen to see anyone who would put me in the manhunting mood?”

“You’ve got a point.” Her friend hummed in sympathy. “You really should move to the city—any city.”

“Except Blythe Industries can’t find cheap labor to run their plant in the city.”

Justine scoffed. “Oh, and no other company in all of Mississippi could use a food scientist?”

Piper pursed her lips. “Maybe—but then I’d be farther away from Gran, and you’ve got to admit, I have a terrific job.”

“True—most women wouldn’t have to be paid to design desserts.”

“Well, it’s not all fudge sauce and whipped cream, Justine. It’s harder than it sounds.”

“Yeah, yeah…bottom line, Piper, you can’t let your career or your family get in the way of finding your soulmate, your dream man—your hero.”

“The only hero I’ve seen in Mudville, Mississippi, is the sandwich special at Limbo’s Deli.”

“Oh, come on. There has to be at least one eligible man in that podunk town. You’re going to have to extend yourself a little, you know. See and be seen.”

“I’m not so sure I want to see and be seen at a tractor pull.”

“You’re going to have to work for this one, Piper. You need a man plan.”

Piper laughed. “Which comes first—the man or the plan?”

“Do you have a good-looking co-worker? Boss?”

Her assistant, Rich, was good-looking. But it was a well-guarded secret that he was gay, too. And her boss, Edmund, was a married man, besides being old enough to be her father. “No one remotely eligible.”

“Neighbor?”

“Nada.”

“UPS man?”

“He’s a woman.”

“Well, you’ve got three whole months to come up with a dance partner for the wedding—all the men in the wedding party are taken.”

Piper flopped down on top of the dress pile, sending the hangers clanging. “Oh, well, that should be a cinch. After all, ballroom dancing is such a popular pastime in Mudville.”

“You’ll think of something. Cheer up—I’ll bet every happily married woman had a strategy to snag their man. Take Stew, for example. He dragged his feet for three years. Then, when I told him I had a job offer in Tennessee, he fell to his knees.”

Piper frowned. Her bedroom ceiling needed to be painted. “I didn’t know you had a job offer in Tennessee.”

“I didn’t.”

“Oh.”

“Piper, it’s our job to convince men they can’t live without us. Keep your eyes open for someone older—maybe a divorced man.”

“I’m not so sure I want a retread.”

Justine clucked. “Sophie says men are better husbands the second time around—you don’t have nearly as much training to do.”

“This is starting to sound like a lot of work.”

Justine sighed noisily. “Piper, do you want to grow old alone?”

Shutting her eyes against the welling misery, Piper relented, puffing her heated cheeks. “No.”

“Then you’d better start doing something about it.”

“Okay, okay, I get the message. Can we please change the subject?”

“Aha!” Justine whooped. “I just thought of the perfect color for my bridesmaids’ dresses—salmon!”

Piper bit back a groan, bounced up from the bed and walked her fingers over the collection of gowns still hanging in the cramped wardrobe. Burgundy, tangerine, moss green, silver, baby blue, pink, coral, eggplant, peach and plum.

But no salmon.

IAN BENTLEY BLINKED at the thick gold band, topped with two rows of sparkling diamonds, then glanced across the table to Meredith. “M-marry you?”

“Sure.” She shrugged her lovely shoulders, a dry smile curving her glazed red lips. “I won a trip to Europe for top sales, but I’m only allowed to have a spouse go with me—no ‘significant others.’”

Ian pursed his lips and studied her classically beautiful face and mane of blond hair, which no doubt contributed to her sales success. Meredith was a walking billboard for the line of cosmetics she sold to department stores, more striking than most of the supermodels who endorsed the products. But was hers a face he could wake up to for the rest of his life? “Meredith, forgive me, but a trip doesn’t seem like a great reason to get married.”

She laughed and waved off his concern. “Silly, I know that, but the trip started me thinking. Why the hell not get married? We spend most nights together anyway—when we’re both in town,” she added. “Getting married is the next logical step.” She leaned forward and touched his hand. “Come on, Ian, neither one of us is getting any younger.”

The uneasiness that gurgled in Ian’s empty stomach ballooned into dread, then full-fledged terror. In the space of a few seconds, the innocent, quick lunch had morphed into a life-altering experience. Meredith was an elegant woman, an immaculate dresser and a skilled lover. He enjoyed her company very much. But did he love her?

Ian skewered the elusive concept and turned it over in his mind like a rotisserie. Would he even recognize the emotion if it sneaked up on him? He always thought he’d be married, perhaps even have a child or two, before the age of forty. But forty was approaching more quickly than he’d expected, and he was still waiting for someone to capture his heart the way his mother had captured his father’s nearly five decades ago.

Meredith’s flawless face lost some of its sparkle. “Gee, Ian, you look like you siphoned gas and swallowed a mouthful.”

Straightening in his suddenly uncomfortable chair, he squeezed the gray ring box and grappled for the right words. “You caught me a little off guard, Meredith.”

She angled her blond head at him. “That would be the idea behind a surprise, wouldn’t it?”

A weak laugh erupted from his tight throat as moisture broke out along his hairline.

“Try it on,” she urged, lifting her wineglass for a sip, then added, “your left hand.”

His gaze dropped back to the ring. Ian extracted it carefully, marveling how an expensive bauble could come attached with so much emotional baggage. “It’s very nice,” he murmured, estimating that two carats’ worth of diamonds studded the gold band. Meredith’s taste ran a bit on the flashy side. With his heart pounding, he slid the ring onto his third finger, then gave her a tight smile. “Perfect fit.” Dammit.

“You don’t have to answer right away,” she offered, withdrawing a black-cased lipstick and mirror for a quick touch-up. “Wear the ring for a few days, see how you like the idea of being a married man. If you say yes, we’ll simply buy me a band to match.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow on business,” he blurted, changing the subject awkwardly, but suddenly anticipating the trip he’d been dreading only moments ago.

Meredith’s eyes lit up. “Anywhere interesting?”

Although she occasionally accompanied him from Chicago to Los Angeles or New York, Ian felt nearly giddy with relief that she wouldn’t be so eager to join him on this trip. He forced disappointment into his voice. “Afraid not—Mudville, Mississippi, population twelve hundred.”

Her slender nose wrinkled. “What’s in Mudville, Mississippi?”

“The plant that packages desserts for my Italian diners.”

“Oooh, the butterscotch cheesecake?”

He smiled and nodded. “Among others.”

Wincing, she patted her flat tummy with a manicured hand. “That settles it—with bathing-suit season around the corner, I definitely can’t go.”

Ian made a clicking sound with his cheek and tried to look disappointed. “Maybe next time.”

“Why are you going?”

“I’m planning to franchise the coffeehouses next year, and I think a designer dessert would improve their marketability—you know, something catchy.”

She narrowed her almond-shaped eyes. “I meant, why are you going? Don’t you have someone to take care of that kind of thing?”

“Well…yes,” he admitted, not without a certain amount of guilt. His vice president of marketing had made the same point just last week when Ian had returned from a plant in Illinois. And his doctor had warned him only yesterday to delegate more work at the office. Frustration pushed at his chest, causing him to respond more vehemently than the situation warranted. “But I think the importance of this project justifies a firsthand consultation with the company’s food scientists.”

Meredith’s eyes widened slightly, then she inclined her head. “When it comes to food, you seem to know what the public wants.” One eyebrow arched and she smirked. “How are the kiddie parlors selling?”

Glad for the change in subject, he smiled wide. “Great so far. Pizza and trampolines seem to be a profitable mix.”

“Go figure,” she said, her dry tone a clear indication of how she felt about having kids, hearing kids or just plain seeing kids—a fact which needled him slightly. She blotted her lipstick with her folded napkin. “How long will you be in…Mudville, is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know…as long as it takes to get a good prototype. Maybe a week, maybe more. Sometimes these small-town plants are not as prepared as they should be for presentations.”

Her frown quickly turned into a sweet smile as she reached forward to pat his left hand. “Well, at least I won’t have to worry about you finding someone else in a place called Mudville. If it’s as desolate and godforsaken as it sounds, you’ll have lots of peace and quiet to consider my proposal.”

Ian conjured up a smile and hoped it wasn’t as shaky as his knees. At this moment, Mudville seemed like a haven, a slow little one-horse town where he could forget about the proposal for a few days. Fresh air, good-tasting water, maybe even a fishing trip or two…and no women bent on dragging him to the altar.

“HI, GRAN.” Piper dropped a kiss on her grandmother’s silky cheek. “Sorry I’m late. Justine is obsessing over her wedding plans.”

Dressed in gray sweats, Ellen Falkner radiated youth—seventy-five going on forty-five, she was much too young-looking for the title of “granny,” a name she insisted on nonetheless.

Granny Falkner smiled wide, tucked a strand of convincing light brown hair beneath her blue bandanna, then planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t fret, Piper. There’s still plenty to do.” She frowned and glanced around the living room, shaking her head. “How does one accumulate so much junk?”

At least two dozen brown boxes lined the perimeter of the weathered room, stacked atop jumbled furniture. The cabbage-rose wallpaper Piper had always loved suddenly appeared yellowed and dated next to the bright squares where pictures had once hung. Stripped of its window dressings, the tall-ceilinged parlor looked half-naked and lonely, as if already pining for its mistress.

“Gran,” Piper said softly, “after forty years, you’re allowed to have accumulated a few knickknacks.”

“I know,” her grandmother said, caressing the wooden mantel. “And I’m really going to miss this old house.” Then she turned a bright smile toward Piper. “But six years alone is plenty long enough. I hate to leave the house empty, but Nate would want me to move on, and Greenbay Ridge looks like my kind of place.” She winked. “I can learn to line dance and still be close to you.”

“You’ll be the social butterfly of the entire retirement community, Gran. And the real-estate agent will find a buyer soon.”

Her grandmother’s forehead wrinkled. “I wish you would take the house, Piper.”

Piper shrugged, guilt riding through her. “I told you I’d be glad to move in with you. It would add only five minutes to my commute.”

“Which would be wonderful for me, but not for you, dear. No, we both need to get on with our lives, but I was hoping you’d be looking for a home when I was ready to move.”

Yearning bubbled within Piper, but she struggled to maintain a calm expression. Despite its dubious location in the outskirts of Mudville, she did want the big old house she so dearly loved, and for years she’d been putting aside every spare dime hoping she’d be able to buy it someday. Her finances still fell short of the mark, but if she received the bonus she was hoping for, she’d be within striking distance. But in case things didn’t work out, she had sworn the real-estate agent to secrecy. Piper chose her words carefully. “Gran, I can’t afford to buy this place, and I’m certainly not going to let you give it to me.”

Her grandmother shook her head and frowned. “I know Mudville isn’t the most exciting place to spend the rest of your life, but I did so want you and your children to have this home.”

“Gran,” Piper chided, “be practical. You have to have money to live on.” Then she grinned. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not pregnant.”

She was rewarded with a wry, wrinkled smile. “Not unless it was an immaculate conception, I’d wager.”

“Gran!”

Granny Falkner angled her head. “Really, dear, you conduct yourself like a nun.”

Shock thickened her tongue. “I…I don’t want to talk about my, um—”

“Chastity?”

“Well, I’m not exactly a vir—” Piper stopped and swallowed. “A Virgo.” She laughed weakly and jammed her hands on her hips in a desperate attempt to look innocent. “I mean, I’m not exactly a Virgo,” she repeated in a squeaky voice. “B-because I’m a Pisces…as you know, Gran.” She cleared her throat noisily and scrutinized the toes of her leather clogs.

Granny Falkner laughed. “You young people think you invented sex. Well, I’m here to tell you, your grandfather and I could have filed for a patent or two of our own.”

Piper blinked and held up her hands. “Gran, I really don’t want to hear this.”

“Relax, Piper, I’m not going to embarrass you. I’m simply trying to get you to open up.” She reached out and ran her thumb over Piper’s cheek. “You still don’t realize how lovely you are—with that face, you could have any man you wanted.”

“Spoken like a true grandmother.”

Sharp blue eyes, which she’d inherited, stared back at her. “Did someone break your heart, dear? Some young man in college?”

The concern in her gran’s face sent a swell of love through Piper’s chest. The older woman knew all too well the grief Piper had suffered all her life. Her mother didn’t even know the name of the man who had fathered her. How could she tell her grandmother that she’d lived in fear of repeating her mother’s mistakes? That she’d been embarrassed to even introduce her outrageously flirtatious mother to the young men she dated? That she’d purposely ignored boys to whom she was attracted so she wouldn’t have to deal with the overpowering sexual rush that made people do crazy things with their lives?

Her few intimate encounters had been with timid, fumbling boys who’d been even more inept than she’d imagined herself to be. She managed a comforting smile. “I met and dated some nice guys in college, but my heart is perfectly intact.”

“And is there a current beau I don’t know about?”

Piper pursed her lips, then replied in a singsongy voice. “Noooooo.”

Her grandmother sighed and crossed her arms. “I know you’re independent, dear, but sharing your life with the right person can be an extraordinary experience.”

A pang of longing pierced Piper, but she decided to make light of the comment. Her grandmother worried enough without Piper fueling the maternal fire. “Gran, I have other priorities right now, like establishing my professional reputation, paying off school loans, maybe even building a nest egg for myself.”

“Is your job still going well?” She handed Piper a red bandanna for her hair.

Piper immediately recognized the worn cloth as the handkerchief her grandfather had carried in the back pocket of his pants. She covered her hair and stretched her arms to tie the ends at the nape of her neck. “My job’s fine. I’m starting a new project this week to persuade our biggest client to extend their contract. Wish me luck!” If her grandmother only knew how much was riding on the creation of one little dessert.

“Good luck, dear. But all work and no play…” Innuendo colored the older woman’s voice as it trailed off.

A sly grin broke out on Piper’s face. “Gran, I’m letting my sorority sisters weed out the eager, needy men.”

Her grandmother laughed, then wagged a finger. “Just don’t wait too long.”

Piper narrowed her eyes. “Have you been talking to Justine, because this is starting to sound like a conspiracy.”

Gran’s laugh echoed in the empty room and she raised her arms in defeat. “Okay, I’ll stop so we can get some work done.”

Piper looked around the room, struck once again by the unfamiliar emptiness. She’d spent endless summers in this house, and as many weekends and holidays as possible, since her mother hadn’t exactly been a nurturing caregiver. Panic stirred in her stomach at the sight of the furniture she’d played on as a child pushed against the walls, queued up haphazardly as if awaiting deportation. Beneath the window stood the wooden coffee table. Her initials, which she’d carved with her grandfather’s Swiss army knife when she was seven, were still on the leg. And next to it, the armless padded rocking chair Gran had sat in when she sewed while Piper sprawled on the floor, stringing buttons with a dulled needle. She swallowed. “Where do I start, Gran?”

“I’m taking the couch, love seat, end tables and lamps, plus the bedroom suite and the kitchen table and chairs.” Her grandmother shrugged and grinned. “Everything else is yours.”

Mouth open, Piper turned. “Mine? But Gran, I don’t have space for all this.” Unless I buy this house.

Undaunted, Granny Falkner continued, “You can leave it here until the house sells, then put the whole kit and caboodle in storage.”

Piper took a deep breath and nodded obediently. “Okay, I’ll think of something.”

“Those boxes are personal things I gathered for you—let’s load them into your van so we’ll have more room to move around in here.”

Staggering under the weight of the first box, Piper laughed. “What is all this stuff?”

Granny Falkner waved her hand in the air, then picked up another carton that appeared just as heavy. “Just books and such, a lot of old nonsense I saved for far too long. Go through it and keep what strikes your fancy and throw away the rest.”

Piper walked back through the kitchen and held open the screen door with her elbow. “Mom called last night. She said to say hello.”

“Why didn’t she call and tell me herself?” her grandmother asked airily.

Sighing, Piper said, “I suggested the same thing.”

“She’s mad because I said something about that lazy bum she’s shacking up with.”

“She says they’re going to get married.”

Granny Falkner’s laugh crackled dryly. “After four trips to the altar, you’d think her judgment would improve.”

Nodding in mute agreement, Piper tingled with shame. Despite her grandmother’s wish to see her settled down, she wondered what Gran would think of the manhunt on which she had decided to embark. Probably not much, she decided with a sideways glance at the woman whose wisdom and advice she treasured.

Her grandmother lowered her box onto the floor of the van. “In fifty-five years, the only thing Maggie managed to do right is have you. And how you turned out so well, I’ll never know.” She put her arm around Piper’s shoulders as they walked back to the house. “I live in eternal hope that your mother will be just like you when she grows up.”

Her grandmother’s words reverberated in Piper’s head during the next few hours of packing and dusting and cleaning. Her mother’s track record was frightening—would her own burgeoning desire for male companionship color her judgment, too? Wouldn’t she be better off without a man than launching into a series of roller-coaster relationships? She didn’t know the first thing about finding a husband—her mother certainly wasn’t much of an example, and at the time, she hadn’t cared enough to study her sorority sisters in action. Worse, by deciding to buy her grandmother’s house and stay in Mudville, she’d narrowed the field of eligible men tremendously. Piper sighed. In the unlikely event that she did find a suitable dating prospect in town, she’d just have to wing it.

But on the late drive back to her town house, peering out the window at the forlorn little town she had made home a year ago, Piper had serious doubts about finding her dream man in the immediate vicinity. A decidedly garish neon sign read Welcome to Mudville. To make matters worse, the four center letters had expired, reducing the town greeting to Welcome to Mule.

The trip down Main Street took her past three used car lots festooned in multicolored plastic flags, nine beauty shops, six video-rental stores, two tanning parlors, “And a partridge in a pear tree,” she murmured as she pulled to a stop at one of the town’s two stoplights. Mudville consisted of two square blocks of dilapidated buildings and a few side streets, plus one fast-food restaurant where the town’s teenagers and desperate adults hung out. Then she chastised herself. People in glass houses…

The blare of a horn caused her to jerk her head toward the vehicle on her right. Too late, she recognized the smoke-belching, rattletrap sports car of Lenny Kern, her neighbor’s son, who seemed determined to live at home until he could pool his social security check with his mother’s. With a thick paw, he motioned for her to roll down her window, and after a reluctant sigh, she obliged.

“Hey, Piper, what’s shakin’?” he bawled above the glass-shattering decibels of Hank Williams, Sr.

“Hey, Lenny,” she said with a tight smile.

“Wanna go for a ride?” he asked, grinning wide.

“No, thanks.”

“Aw, come on, Piper, Top Gun is playing at the dollar theater.”

She grimaced. “I rented it several years ago.”

“Oh, really?” He frowned, and bit his lower lip.

Thankfully, the light turned green. “So long, Lenny,” she said, pulling away from the intersection. Her neighbor had been trying to wear her down into going out with him since she moved in. And she wasn’t that lonely…yet.

When she arrived at her town house, Piper parked, took out one of the boxes her grandmother had given her and went inside. She sprawled on the living-room floor in front of the television. With the remote, she tuned into a rerun of a comedy that hadn’t been funny the first time, then pulled the box toward her and placed it between her spread legs, curiosity coursing through her.

The smell of mothballs, dried paper and stale flowers filled her nostrils as she lifted the lid. The box held a hodgepodge of memorabilia: dusty photo albums, yellowed songbooks, thick seventy-eight-size phonograph records and curling postcards. She thumbed through old issues of Look magazine, and smiled at hokey rhymes on ancient greeting cards. There were several paper-thin embroidered handkerchiefs, an invitation to her grandmother’s high-school graduation and a brittle newspaper article picturing a teenage Granny Falkner and her two sisters in gowns and upswept hairdos, grinning. The headline read Dance Marathons a Family Event for Sexton Sisters. Piper smiled in delight as she read about her dancing grandmother and two great-aunts, both of whom now lived in Florida. Only a year separated the three sisters and they were all still full of vinegar. Piper shook her head and bit her lower lip. The Sexton sisters had probably been the most sought-after women in the then-thriving town of Mudville, Mississippi. They had all married well and enjoyed enduring marriages.

Near the bottom of the box, beneath pressed corsages, a string of buttons and a small ring box of costume jewelry, Piper’s fingers curled around a hardback book the size of a videotape. She withdrew it slowly, thinking the faded pink journal was possibly a diary or even a recipe book. But hand-written on the front in neat slanted script were the words The Sexton Sisters’ Secret Guide to Marrying a Good Man.

Piper’s eyebrows lifted in amazement, and she laughed softly. Gran and her sisters had conducted their own manhunt? An ancestral account to guide her on her mission…. Maybe there was hope after all.