Читать книгу The Good Kind of Crazy - Tanya Michaels, Tanya Michaels - Страница 9

Neely strode through the Lenox Square Mall, which was pretty crowded for a Monday. Leah worked as a cosmetics consultant in one of the upscale department stores, so they were meeting in one of the restaurants inside the mall. Declining a sample of teriyaki chicken as she passed the food court and zigzagging around two women oohing and ahhing over some Kenneth Cole shoes outside a store window, Neely recalled how Leah had sounded on the phone yesterday morning. Distracted, sniffly. Her friend had claimed seasonal allergies and the disorienting effects of antihistamine, which was certainly plausible in Georgia this time of year. If it had been twelve months ago, or even six, Neely would have assumed that Leah was crying over her rat bastard ex-husband, but her friend seemed adjusted to her single life lately.

She looks terrific, anyway. Neely watched Leah step off the escalator. With her wave of red-gold hair and slimming uniform of black turtleneck and slacks, she was easy to spot among browsing housewives in pastel spring fashions. Whereas Neely had put on a few pounds after lingering over meals with Robert, Leah had lost at least fifteen since her divorce, largely because she took out her aggression in workouts at a women’s gym. Her body was in the best shape it had been since Neely had known her.

But as the two women came to a stop within a few feet of each other beneath the emerald awning of the agreed-upon bar and grill, Neely could see Leah’s pretty face sported more makeup than usual. Still not enough to disguise her red and slightly swollen eyes.

Antihistamines, my ass. “You’ve been crying.” At times like this, she wished she had Savannah’s diplomatic knack of knowing what to say.

“Not in the last five minutes,” Leah said, trying to make a joke of it with her wobbly smile.

“Well, let’s get you to a table, I’ll buy you lunch and you can tell me what’s wrong.”

“Okay, but I don’t actually have much of an appetite and margaritas are a no-no since I have to go back to work right after this. Don’t want unsteady hands while I’m wielding a mascara wand near a customer’s eye.”

An impossibly skinny hostess with towering heels and a fall of straight, glossy hair showed them to a booth. Neely hoped for the pretty young woman’s sake that she had someone to rub her feet at the end of her shift—standing all day in those shoes couldn’t be comfortable.

Even though Leah had said she wasn’t hungry and Neely’s blood pressure didn’t need the salt, they ordered tortilla chips with the restaurant’s signature spinach dip. Placing drink orders and waiting for the appetizer to come gave Leah a little time to regain her composure.

Once her friend looked less fragile, Neely hazarded a guess. “Did something happen with Phillip to upset you?”

“You could say that.” Leah’s soft brown eyes brimmed with tears.

“We don’t have to talk about it, I just—”

“No, you’ll find out soon enough anyway. I imagine news will work itself through the office.”

Phillip was an employee of Becker Southern Media. Neely didn’t work closely with him, but had come to know Leah through accumulated company picnics, Christmas parties and other social gatherings.

“He’s getting married,” Leah blurted. “He called me Saturday afternoon, oozing his newfound happiness. He said he wanted to tell me because he didn’t want me to find out accidentally from you or another mutual acquaintance. A plausible excuse, but I can’t help thinking he wanted to gloat a little. The worst part…” A sob welled up, choking off the rest of her sentence.

Neely snapped a chip in half, imagining it was Phillip’s neck.

“The worst part is, it’s not Kate.”

Six years younger and two cup sizes larger than Leah, Kate was the woman Phillip had been sleeping with when his wife dissolved the marriage.

“You wish it was?”

“I keep thinking I’d feel better if he’d ended up with her, if he’d cheated on me because he really loved her. Knowing that he threw our marriage away over a meaningless fling… He proposed to Tiffany, a more recent girlfriend and even younger than Kate. Not quite half his age, but close enough. Tiffany and Phillip? Why doesn’t he just send out wedding announcements that say ‘You’re invited to my midlife crisis’? He told me he’d be honored if I can come to the ceremony, but that he would understand if it was too painful.” She sneered the last words in a parody of concern.

“Bastard,” Neely muttered. “Serve him right if you showed up looking hot as all hell, with a twenty-five-year-old stud on your arm.”

Leah managed a smile. “That idea has merit. Or would, if I knew any twenty-five-year-old studs who wouldn’t call me ma’am.”

“This is Georgia, women of all ages get called ma’am.”

“Still. I don’t really want to go to the wedding, except that I’m sure if I don’t, he’ll assume it’s because I’m not over his sorry ass.”

Are you?

Reading the unasked question in Neely’s expression, Leah continued. “I thought I was, but this wedding news hit me hard. I mean, I got weepy this morning when a woman bought an assortment of lipsticks and told me they were party favors for a bridal shower. Am I pathetic enough to still be in love with a man who thought to have and to hold meant just until something curvier sauntered along?”

“You’re not pathetic! He sandbagged you with this announcement, and you’re having a normal reaction. Whether you go or not, what he thinks doesn’t matter.” And if there was justice in the world, he’d be struck impotent on his wedding night.

“Well, I have plenty of time to decide.” Leah fiddled with the straw in her soft drink. “They haven’t even set a date yet. Not that I needed to know this, apparently little Tiffany has always dreamed of a June wedding, but says this summer doesn’t give her enough time to plan and next summer is much too far away for her to wait. A June wedding—how cliché is that?”

Neely swallowed. More of a gulp actually. She’d been so incensed on her friend’s behalf that she’d temporarily forgotten why she’d asked Leah to meet her for lunch in the first place. Well, now’s hardly the time to tell her.

But she’d have to tell Leah eventually, and her friend would want details—when, where and how Robert had proposed. Once she found out, she’d be hurt Neely hadn’t told her immediately. “Uh…Leah? You might know someone else guilty of that same cliché.”

“What, you mean getting married in June? Who?”

Raising her hand level with her face, she said tentatively, “Me.”

“Huh? Oh, my God! Robert proposed?”

“Yeah. We can wait until later to talk about it, but you’re my best friend. It wouldn’t be right if you weren’t one of the first people to know.”

“Of course we have to talk about it! I don’t want you to think…oh, dear. You’re getting married in June? Sorry about the crack earlier. You understand that you are a classy woman who appreciates tradition, while Tiffany is an airhead who doesn’t have an original thought.”

“Ooh, nice distinction.”

Dashing away tears—happier ones this time—Leah glanced around. “Where is our waitress? A discussion like this should take place over a celebratory lunch and decadent desserts.”

But at the office a couple of hours later, dessert was churning in Neely’s stomach.

Was it warm in the conference room, or was she the only one who felt overheated and slightly nauseous? It occurred to her she might be having a hot flash—and wouldn’t that be sexy with her fiancé sitting directly across from her?—but even though her doctor had confirmed she was definitely perimenopausal, she suspected this was a result of lunch.

She tried to concentrate on the current discussion about an upcoming radio merger, but her conversation with Leah kept intruding. For all of her friend’s determination to be happy for her, Neely had still left lunch feeling overwhelmed. Leah’s hyperenthusiastic questions had been the equal but opposite reaction to Beth Mason’s caustic remarks and forceful suggestions. Leah had cheerfully reeled off inquiry after inquiry, each landing like lead on top of the fudge sundae they’d shared.

“Will it be a church wedding?”

“I don’t know. I’d always had in the back of my mind that a garden wedding would be nice, but Mom pointed out that Aunt Jo is allergic to practically everything and that you can never guarantee the weather.”

“Well, you’ll want to reserve a venue immediately! Places book early for June. Speaking of places, are you moving into his?”

“I don’t know.” It shocked Neely that she hadn’t even considered that yet. She was a details person, the one who usually worried about logistics. Still, she’d been swept up in the novelty of romance, being in love and enjoying that for once in her life. Besides, she had months left on her lease and time to discuss the situation with Robert.

“So, will the two of you be getting a prenup? If I had my farce of a marriage to do all over again, I certainly would—not that you and Robert will ever need one!”

But who ever really thought they’d need a prenup? How could Leah have guessed, the day she optimistically took her vows, that she’d now be debating whether or not to attend her husband’s second wedding? Certainly Douglas had seemed shell-shocked, despite warnings, when Zoe followed through on her threat to leave if he couldn’t grow up and take more responsibility in their relationship.

Neely had never even been engaged, let alone married, but she remembered the mocking disregard with which her first lover had cast her aside, leaving her dumbfounded and gun-shy. She knew now that she hadn’t loved him, had merely been infatuated and pleased to have someone’s full attention after years of living with a perfect sister and the brother who would carry on the family name. If being unceremoniously dumped had crushed her then, how much pain would it cause if Robert ever decided to leave? She imagined the last thing she’d want to deal with under those circumstances would be tangled divorce settlements that only prolonged goodbye.

“Neely?” Cameron Becker’s gruff voice penetrated her thoughts, and she jumped guiltily in the padded office chair. “You’re scowling. You don’t agree with Dave’s assessment?”

From farther down the table, vice president David Samuels frowned at her.

Oops. “No, I think he was…dead-on. I’m sorry, just got distracted for a moment. Is it hot in here?”

Amanda Barnes, a fifty-something consultant working with Becker on this deal, shot her a sympathetic glance. Robert looked concerned and followed her to her office after the meeting.

“Feeling okay?” he asked once they were alone.

“I guess lunch didn’t agree with me.” She sipped the cup of water she’d poured in the hall.

He sat on the corner of her desk, a little close for her comfort to an expenditure report she’d typed that morning. “You mean just the food, right? Or was telling Leah really that bad?”

“No, she—hang on, why don’t we move this out of the way?” She’d been known to use binder clips that coordinated with the colors of her fonts and graphs; she was not handing Cameron a crinkled report. “She was very happy for us. But the timing stank. Turns out Phillip just informed her he was getting remarried.”

“Ouch.”

Neely crossed the room to refile some of the folders she’d needed earlier. “She was great, though. Very excited about being the maid of honor. I know I said yesterday that we have time to think about the details, but Leah made a good point. We should reserve a place immediately. If not sooner. So we might want to think about what size crowd we’re looking at, whether we want a formal dinner or more casual reception.”

He nodded affably, looking utterly relaxed in the face of her rising panic. This was why he was so good for her. “Why don’t you come over, I’ll grab takeout on the way home, and we can start planning?”

“Or we could go to my place,” she threw out impulsively. Maybe it was territorial of her, but she couldn’t relax as well at Robert’s place. And not just because of the constant drop-ins of neighbors who were fond of her extroverted fiancé, including Sheila, the thirty-eight-year-old downstairs he had once dated. They’d never become very serious, but she continued to depend on Robert’s help with her car and occasional handyman jobs if it was the weekend and the super was out of touch. It was amazing how many maintenance issues Sheila had over the weekend.

Neighbors aside, Neely always had the urge to tidy Robert’s apartment. Her birthday had been a notable exception since he’d gone to great pains to clean up and set a romantic atmosphere in the main rooms. For his cluttered guest room, he’d shut the door and left it at that.

His eyebrows lifted, but after a moment, he said, “Sure. Either way.”

“Sorry. I think…maybe because I’m not feeling well, I’m sort of longing for the comforts of home.”

“Understood.” He slid off the desk and came toward her, as if about to offer a hug, but stopped shy. Although it was common knowledge they were a couple, they’d agreed early on to keep displays of affection away from the workplace. “I’ll meet you there at about seven?”

“Sounds great, thank you.” The man was a gem.

Pausing at the door, he asked, “You don’t feel uncomfortable at my place, do you? I hope you know you can make yourself at home there. I can clear some closet space for you, give you some drawers in the bathroom. Anything that helps.”

“That’s sweet, but not necessary. Your place is already very homey.” It definitely had that lived-in feel.

After he’d gone, she sat behind her desk, pondering the questions Leah had posed. Did Robert think they’d move into his place? Hers was closer to the office, but not as big. Then again, he didn’t exactly make the most of the space he had. She wouldn’t call his apartment grungy, but it was the home of a mellow bachelor who got around to sorting his laundry when he felt like it. He just fished clean socks out of the laundry basket on the sofa as needed.

Neely tackled household chores with a practical the-sooner-the-better approach. They’d had more than one dinner at her place where Robert had invited her to sit on the couch and watch television with him and worry about the dishes later; except she was best able to enjoy what she was doing when she knew there wasn’t housework waiting afterward. He’d probably understand that about her more once they were living together.

Her temperature spiked again, and her heart thundered in her ears. We’re going to be living together. She’d known it rationally, she just hadn’t stopped to think about it yet. To really think about all that it entailed. She’d been on her own for a long time. Even when she did spend a night at Robert’s, she knew she could return to her apartment. After June, there would be no “her place” or “his place.”

Only the home of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Walsh.

They obviously had a lot more to talk about than how many invitations they should buy and the size of the wedding party. Her stomach tightened at the thought of how many important and personal conversations they needed to have. Her lack of romantic experience left her feeling unprepared, and the uncertainty reminded her why she liked numbers so much. Calculating equations was a lot simpler than being in love. Good thing she’d somehow managed to find a man so worth the trouble—now she just had to prove that she was.

Savannah didn’t know why she felt so nervous—she was neither the one getting married, nor the stranger coming to meet the family for the first time. Nonetheless, when she handed her mama the sweet potato casserole she’d brought, her fingers were trembling.

Hoping her mother and husband hadn’t noticed, she turned to Jason. “Want me to hang up your coat, honey?” Even though it had been warm a few days earlier, the March wind had blown in a storm front that was causing lower temperatures and sinus headaches all over the metroplex.

“Thanks.” Her husband held out his jacket and turned to face Douglas, who stood to the side in the parlor with Vi and their father. “So, when do we get to meet the new guy?”

“Neely called to say they got hung up in traffic but should be here in about ten minutes. Can I fix you a drink?” He indicated the side bar, where the Professor was refilling his own glass.

Jason shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m not technically scheduled to work tonight, but I’m on call as backup.”

A tug of premature disappointment pulled at Savannah. Jason had missed the last two monthly dinners and been called away from her father’s birthday celebration because of work. She hoped that wouldn’t be the case tonight—she felt bad enough that Trent couldn’t come because of a senior prom fund-raiser. Then again, interruptions were bound to occur when you were married to the man hundreds of women wanted to deliver their babies.

As she put his coat in the entryway closet, Savannah remembered how proud she’d been when she’d told acquaintances she was marrying a doctor! Not that he’d been a doctor at the time, but he’d already been accepted into med school and his path was clear. They’d married after graduating college, and she’d taught at a private day care, helping to shoulder the bills while he studied and interned.

When she’d discovered she was pregnant with Adam, she’d been first ecstatic, then worried about her husband’s reaction. They’d planned to wait another year or two before having a baby, but Jason had been thrilled. She’d teased him at prenatal checkups when he’d shown as much interest in the medical equipment as her progress, and she’d wept watching him cradle their son for the first time. If Jason hadn’t cried, his eyes had certainly been damp with emotion.

Recalling that moment in the hospital as if it were yesterday, she suddenly felt more generously disposed to the expecting women who so frequently needed Jason’s time. After all, when he couldn’t make family plans, it was because he was away, bringing the miracle of new life into the world, not because he was waving one-dollar bills in the air at some smoke-filled strip club on the seedier side of Atlanta. She’d known the specifics of being a doctor’s wife—odd hours, being a good hostess when he invited members of the medical community for dinner, attending different social functions. Jason had praised her on many occasions for making him look good, saying he’d be lost without her.

Her mood bolstered, Savannah went to help her mother in the kitchen. It was a sure bet Vi wouldn’t think to offer her assistance.

Beth had just started to carve the ham when the doorbell pealed through the old house.

“Looks as if our guests of honor are here.” Savannah had a sudden moment of reverse déjà vu that caused her smile to falter—would Adam be bringing home a woman to meet his parents in the next few years?

“Late,” Beth grunted, looking at the digital over the oven.

Savannah could tell this was another strike against the mysterious suitor who hadn’t bothered to meet Neely’s parents, much less ask their permission, before proposing. “I’m sure the delay was unavoidable, Mama, and not a reflection on Mr. Walsh.”

Her mother slanted her a knowing glance. “You’re not about to remind me to be hospitable in my own house, are you?”

“When you’re the one who taught me everything I know about Southern generosity? Of course not,” Savannah said sweetly. “You’d be the perfect gracious hostess to anyone who came to your door, even if they weren’t entirely punctual.”

Beth grinned. “With some coaching from you, Vidalia could be a lot more subtle about her back talk.”

Savannah thought of her sister, of her bright bleached hair and constant opinions. “I don’t think Vi has any interest in subtle.”

“Well, let’s go join them before she says something to scare off this Robert Walsh and Cornelia ends up as alone and crazy as my great-aunt Willa.”

Either Robert and Neely hadn’t bothered with jackets, or someone had already put them away. The two of them sat on the striped antique settee Gerald had reupholstered when Savannah was in high school—Neely in a scoop-necked sweater and black skirt, Robert in a button-down shirt and navy tie. He was handsome, Savannah thought judiciously, taking in the wave of silver in his rich brown hair and the sparkle of his gray eyes. The sparkle increased when he looked at Neely, which he did often. She didn’t seem to mind, snuggling close to him with her hand resting atop his knee. A simple touch, but meaningful for Neely.

Robert Walsh wasn’t quite debonair, but something more comfortable and sincere. Though he was tall, with a firm, square jaw, there was a kind of indefinable softness about him, too. Perhaps Savannah recognized it because it reminded her vaguely of her father, an invisible vibe of kindness that promised he’d never mistreat children or small animals.

When Neely glanced up at her, Savannah’s first instinct was to turn away and not be caught staring. Silly, really, since it was understandable for the family to be curious about Robert. She stepped forward, offering her hand.

“Savannah Mason Carter,” she introduced herself. “Have you already met my husband, Dr. Jason Carter?”

“We were just starting the name exchange,” Douglas said. “We’d only gotten as far as Dad and Vidalia Jean.”

“Who goes by Vi, right?” Robert smiled, looking as if he might say more, perhaps about how Neely didn’t like her full name, either, but stopped, catching sight of Beth behind Savannah. Apparently he had the good sense not to joke about names when the people who’d picked them out were standing in the room. “Mrs. Mason. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

As he held out the bottle of wine he’d brought along as a hostess gift, Savannah grinned inwardly. She liked the “finally” as a discreet reminder that, if it had been up to him, he’d have met them sooner. Robert Walsh might just hold his own with Beth, and once she approved of him, he was family.

After the pleasantries were exchanged, Beth planted her hands on her ample hips. “Well, not to discount the value of small talk, but I worked too hard on that food to let it go cold. Why don’t we move into the dining room?”

They all headed that way, and Savannah noticed the hand Robert placed on the small of her sister’s back. An odd ripple of yearning went through her at the unconscious intimacy conveyed in the touch. She cast a glance toward her husband, abashedly aware of the longing that probably showed in her face.

But he was deep in discussion with Douglas about a new property tax and didn’t notice.