Simple Gone South (Crimson Romance) (23 page)

“I
don’t
have to work late,” she said. “But I suggest you call your dad for company while you satisfy your
hankering
. I’m going to Lanie’s for book club.”

“
What
?”
Well, damn! That’s why Harris had called and asked if he wanted to come over and re-watch the Iron Bowl with “the guys.” He’d turned him down—thought he’d be with Lucy. “You just had book club!”

“Simmer down, golden boy.” She gave him a sexy little smile over her shoulder. “I’ll call you when I head back. I’ll keep Eller while you’re gone to Georgia. You can go get her and be waiting here for me when I get back.”

Well, that was something. Not enough, but something. “I cannot believe you are going to go gossip and drink with those women when I’m leaving town tomorrow. You could do that while I’m gone.”

“We’re going to eat too. Don’t forget that,” she said glibly. “And I had
those women
before I had you.” And she went into the bathroom.

And I’ll have them when you’re gone
. It hung in the air. She might as well have said it.

Maybe it was time he told her he wasn’t going anywhere.

When Lucy rang the doorbell of the Avery family farmhouse, Luke’s sister answered.

“Arabelle! I didn’t know you were still here,” Lucy said, surprised but pleased.

“It’s somewhat of a miracle,” she said. “I called in several favors and promised to work New Year’s to get a few extra days. Life in a big city hospital.”

“Very different from Merritt,” Lucy said as she followed Arabelle to the kitchen. “And Africa, I would think.”

“Oh, yes,” Arabelle said vaguely.

Five places had been set at the big round kitchen table. On a Lazy Susan sat four fondue pots of simmering cheese, broth, oil, and chocolate. Lanie was arranging bowls containing chunks of bread, raw meat, vegetables, fruit, and cake around the pots.

“Lanie, look what you have done,” Lucy said. She’d have to be careful tonight. Making a meal on tidbits added up really fast. Brantley didn’t seem to mind the spare flesh on her thighs but it could get so much worse so fast.

“I didn’t do it. Arabelle did,” Lanie said.

“It’s the least I can do after camping out here with you for a week and horning in on your book club.”

“Nonsense,” Lanie said as she walked to the marble topped island and poured three glasses of wine. “I’m just sorry Sheridan and David couldn’t stay as long as they planned. It was fun having two babies in the house.”

“Yes,” Arabelle said tightly and took a sip of her wine.

“I thought you were going to ride out here with Missy and Tolly,” Lanie said to Lucy.

Lucy laughed. “I suppose you thought that because that’s what Missy told you and Missy told you that because that’s what she intended to happen. But she did not check with me before she handed down her orders. I wanted my car.”

Lanie nodded. “I understand. Last time I had to leave early because I was with Missy. If she has another Lulu emergency, you and Tolly can stay.”

Actually, Lucy’s reason for driving herself was right the opposite. She wanted to be able to leave early. And get back to Brantley.

“Uh, yes,” Lucy said.

The bell rang. “And there they are.” Lanie exited the kitchen and a moment later squeals of greeting emitted from down the hall.

Arabelle smiled a controlled little smile and took a sip from her glass. “I envy you all this friendship. Always so happy to see each other,” she said.

“We’re not always this excitable,” Lucy explained. “We haven’t seen Tolly since before Thanksgiving. She was gone for
days
.”

“Days?” Arabelle cocked an eyebrow.

Lucy would have replied but, by then, the others had entered the kitchen and she and Tolly were hugging and dancing around.
“How’s Kirby?”
“I saw Nathan on TV!” “Wait until you see what I bought!” “Restaurant turkey—the worst!”
flew through the air from four directions.

Days. It felt like forever. How much worse would it be when Brantley had been gone for weeks? Surely by the time it was months, she’d be over it.

“So.” Tolly took a sip of the wine Lanie had handed her and zeroed in on Lucy. “What’s this I hear about you having Thanksgiving at Caroline Brantley’s table?”

And Lucy laughed with delight in spite of herself.

• • •

“Lordy, I am stuffed.” Missy held up the long fork used to skewer the food. “I’ll be having some of those pots. And these forks. They would also make great weapons.” She playfully stabbed at Lanie.

“I can’t believe you’ve never had fondue,” Tolly said. “And I think the forks come with the pot.”

“When would I have had fondue?” Missy asked. “When have I been to Switzerland?”

“I haven’t been to Switzerland,” Lanie said. “And neither has Arabelle. But we’ve had fondue at the Melting Pot in Birmingham. Luke and Arabelle’s daddy loves it. If you weren’t such a snob about chain restaurants you could have had it too.”

“Well, maybe I’ll just start buying my candy at some chain instead of your fine establishment,” Missy shot back.

“That’s different,” Lanie said. And they all laughed.

Lucy reached into her purse and brought out a tiny wrapped package. “Before I forget,” she said handing it to Missy. “Here’s Lulu’s birthday present.” Missy, Harris, Tolly, and the kids were leaving the next day to go to Harris’s grandparents’ for Lulu’s first birthday. “It’s a charm for her bracelet. A little birthday cake with a one on it.”

“Oh, how sweet,” Missy said. “I am so glad you started that bracelet for her. I am the only southern woman on the planet who doesn’t have a charm bracelet and I would not have thought of it.”

Lanie said, “Arabelle has a great one. Twice the size of mine.”

Arabelle held up her wrist to show them the heavy charm laden gold bracelet. “It hasn’t grown as rapidly since Mimi died, but Mama still adds a charm occasionally. By the time Emma inherits it, she may need a gurney to haul it around.”

“Oh, Arabelle,” Lanie said. “Don’t say that. You’ll have your own little girl.”

“Maybe,” Arabelle said and got up to pour another round of wine.

“I tried to get Lucy to go with us to celebrate her namesake’s first birthday,” Missy said. “She
said
she had to work, but I know she doesn’t want to leave Brantley.”

“Not true. I would go, if I could. I do have to work. Besides, Brantley is leaving town tomorrow too. He and Will Garrett are going to a salvage place in Georgia to look at stuff for the Brantley Building.”

“Why aren’t you going with them?” Missy asked.

“Because,” Lucy said and lightly pounded the table for emphasis, “I have to
work
! I work. Why does no one believe me?”

They laughed. “Well, Lucy,” Lanie said, “you have to admit you were pretty vehement that nothing was going on between you and Brantley and the next thing we know, you’re kneeling at the altar with him for communion and eating Thanksgiving with his family.”

“I wasn’t lying,” Lucy said. “I was mistaken. Besides, don’t read too much into it. It’s early days.”

“I am reading everything into it,” Missy said firmly. “I am counting on it. I’m counting on you to keep him in Merritt and keep him away from Rita May Sanderson.”

At least Missy was honest about what she wanted.

Time to change the subject.

“Missy,” Lucy said. “I want to make a pumpkin pie. Could you send me a recipe?”

Missy looked triumphant and clapped her hands together. “Well, well, well. Could your sudden interest in baking be attributed to Brantley Kincaid and the esteem in which he holds pumpkin pie?”

Tolly and Lanie clapped their hands together, much as Missy had done, and made the sound of the female equivalent of a catcall. Even Arabelle smiled.

“I’ll email you the recipe I use before I leave in the morning. It’s great. I’ve made it a hundred times,” Missy promised.

“I need to talk about the Christmas parade,” Lanie said. “Last summer, when I agreed to donate the lollipops to give to the kids, I didn’t understand that I was also in charge of giving the lollipops out.”

“You don’t ask enough questions,” Missy said.

Lanie picked up her fondue fork and poked Missy’s arm.

“It’s true,” Missy said.

“Well, I’m about to ask you a question and the answer is going to be yes,” Lanie said. “I need y’all to give out lollipops at the Christmas parade.”

“Ride on a float and throw candy?” Missy said. “Sure. I love a float.”

“Well,” Lanie said, “you wouldn’t so much be riding on a float as you would be marching along side a float and handing out the candy. I am making these lollipops. I cannot make enough to throw willy-nilly into the crowd.” Lanie swallowed and looked around. “Besides, it will be more personal. Spread more Christmas cheer. You know.”

“
Of course
, we will do it for you, Lanie,” Lucy said. “We’ll be
happy
to. Won’t we, Missy?”

“Uh, sure. Yeah. It won’t be the same as riding on a float but, still, the parade.”

“What,” asked Tolly, who could never be accused of not asking enough questions, “will we be wearing?”

“That’s the other thing,” Lanie admitted. “There might be some cute green hats. Some shoes with turned up toes. Bells. Striped stockings.”

It took a second for it to sink in.

“Elves! We have to dress like elves?” That came from Missy.

Lanie shrugged.

Lucy rose and kissed Lanie’s cheek. “I will be proud to dress like an elf for you and give out the finest lollipops ever made. But I’m going to go now.”

Arabelle looked up in surprise. “You’re leaving before the book discussion?”

Missy, Lanie, Tolly, and Lucy exchanged looks and dissolved into laughter.

Lucy sat in a front booth at Lou Anne’s eating a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich and studying the recipe that had been in her email box that morning.

“Well, hello there, Lucy. I didn’t see you sitting up here.” She looked up to see Charles Kincaid standing beside her table. He had his jacket over his arm and his check in his hand.

She turned the recipe face down. “I didn’t see you either,” she said. “We could have eaten together.” She would have enjoyed Brantley’s father’s company.

“I can sit a minute.” He sat down across from her. “I have the strangest inclination to call you baby girl. Eva’s father called her that until the day they died.”

Lucy didn’t quite know what to do with that. “That’s charming.”

“The judge was a charmer. Does your daddy have a special name for you?”

“He sometimes calls me Lucy Belle.”

Charles laughed. “That sounds like something Alden would have come up with too. Brantley’s very like him.”

“Apart from his eyes, he looks like you,” Lucy said.

“Yes, he does. But I wish you could have known the judge, heard him speak. Brantley sounds like him—the cadence of his voice, his wit, and those odd phrases he comes up with. That’s his grandfather all over again.”

“I’ve wondered about his colorful vernacular.”

“That’s where he got it. I interrupted your reading.” He nodded to the face down recipe.

“Oh, this.” She turned it over again. “It’s a recipe for pumpkin pie. I was going to try to make one.” Her face went a little hot at this revelation, though she wasn’t sure why.

Charles looked beyond pleased. “So you’re going to make my boy his favorite pie?”

“I’m going to try.” She bit her lip. “The thing is I don’t know what a sugar pumpkin is.” She also didn’t have a pastry blender for the crust or a nutmeg grater. No doubt Missy would be scandalized but Lucy was just going to use the powdered nutmeg. However, she was going to make the crust. “Do you know anything about pumpkins?”

“I know there are some different kinds at the Publix, though I don’t know what kind.” Charles smiled the Brantley smile. “Tell you what. I’ve got to be out that way this afternoon. I’ll check in there. If they have any, I’ll leave one on your porch. If not, I’ll call you so you’ll know.”

“That would be great. It will save me going all the way out there after work,” she said, relieved. “I’ve got just enough time before my next appointment to run by the hardware store and get a pastry blender and a rolling pin.” And it wouldn’t take much time to go by Big Starr after work for the other ingredients.

“I’d get that for you too, but I have no idea what a pastry blender is.”

“I’m not sure I do either,” she admitted. “I hope it works out. I told him this morning I would have a surprise for him when he gets home.” Hell and double hell! Why had she let that slip out? Now Charles would know Brantley had woken up in her bed. But he just smiled broader. Maybe he assumed she’d told him on the phone.

Charles rose and picked up her check from the table. She opened her mouth to protest but he smiled and said, “Don’t even say it.”

• • •

Making pumpkin pie was harder than it sounded in the recipe and that had sounded plenty hard. That afternoon she’d written out a timeline. It took an hour and half to bake the pumpkin Charles had left her and then it was supposed to cool before she mashed it, mixed it with the other ingredients, and poured it in the crust to bake. She figured she’d tackle the pastry while the pumpkin was baking so hopefully she’d have a crust by the time she needed one.

It took a while to fight through the pumpkin with the best knife she had, which wasn’t saying much. She disregarded the footnote on the recipe that suggested saving the seeds to roast for snacking. She could buy SunChips. Those slimly seeds and the gunk attached to them were going in the garbage, or—oops—almost in the garbage. Some of it was sliding down the side of the can. Some it was sticking to her arm. Well, she’d clean it up later. She had pastry to make.

First, she was to measure out the flour and mix it with salt. Easy. Then cut the butter into small pieces and mix it into the flour with the pastry blender until it resembled course meal. She knew what that looked like from making cornbread. Next came the ice water, a tablespoon at a time, except she had to stop and make ice water. This part was tricky. It said between four and six tablespoons, depending on the amount of protein in your flour and the humidity. Well, dandy. Her flour was low protein soft winter wheat. It said so right on the White Lily bag. But did low protein flour want more or less water? And what did the humidity have to do with it? She picked up her phone and called Missy but her phone went straight to voicemail. Great. That meant that there was no cell phone coverage at Harris’s grandparents’ house. Missy never turned her phone off. Well, fine. Lucy didn’t need Missy. She started adding water and stirring it with a fork until she had something that looked like dough. It was a little crumbly so she added the rest of the water. Still crumbly. Well, too bad; that was all the water allowed. Maybe it would work out while it chilled for twenty-five minutes.