Now she was wild as a buck and Lanie wasn’t doing anything to help contain her. In fact, where was she? Was she lagging behind on purpose because he hadn’t followed her suggestion, thinking she’d show him? He looked around and spotted her looking at a quilt display. She looked up, met his eyes, and smiled — and not a mad
you-should-have-listened-to-me
smile. It was more ethereal, dreamy. She’d been like that all morning, like she was in some kind of a happy little fog that didn’t include him.
He didn’t like it. He was used to her being focused, tapped into Emma — tapped into him, damn it! He was about to motion for her to come help him when she wiggled her fingers in a little wave and went back to studying the quilts.
“Daddy! I want the same as this!” Emma yelled. She was reaching for a clock with a picture of Dale Earnhardt, Jr. on the face. He had already bought a bamboo flute, a pig made out of pinecones, and a Santa Claus dressed in cammo. He was drawing the line at this.
“No, Emma.” He pulled her hand away and looked over his shoulder toward Lanie. Still looking at quilts.
“Ohhhhhhhh. Pretty!” Good God. Now she had her hands on a car tag with a bald eagle and
Tiffany
spelled out in metallic turquoise letters.
“Sorry,” Luke said to the laughing vendor as he bodily removed Emma from the vicinity. He set her on her feet on the sidewalk in front of Reed’s Jewelry, behind a pottery display. “Emma.” For all the good it would do, he took out the Daddy voice. Where the hell was Lanie? “Do you want me to carry you? Do you want to go home? Do you want me to take these things back and get my money back?” He held up the bag that contained her treasures. Each question produced a vigorous head shake. “You don’t? Well, then. You’re going to have to hold Daddy’s hand and not pull away. You cannot grab things.”
“Okay.” She put her finger in her nose. He pulled it out. She smiled, showing most of her little white teeth. “I’m gonna be honeybee. I’m Daddy’s special girl!”
Was it luck, instinct, or had she already learned the fine art of manipulation? Either way, he let his guard down for a split second and she was off again, screaming, “Daddy! Look!”
Luckily, she didn’t go far. Next door, in front of the Merritt Community Play House, was a fortuneteller, complete with a turban and a garish glittery purple backdrop. What the hell was Nathan Scott thinking? This was supposed to be a family event. Was the team so desperate for money they had to resort to consorting with charlatans?
“Your fortune, sir?” the woman asked as he locked his hand around Emma’s upper arm.
“No, thank you.”
“Daddy! I need this!” Emma grabbed a string of yellow beads.
“No one’s waiting just now,” the fortuneteller said. “Only twenty-five dollars to learn your future.”
“No. No fortune. Emma, put that down.” He tried to take the beads from her.
“I want it for me!”
“No.”
“Yellow topaz.” The woman rose, easily took the beads from Emma, and placed them around the child’s neck. “It revitalizes and straightens faith. For the little girl, thirty dollars.”
“No. She doesn’t need revitalizing and you aren’t helping.” He took the beads off Emma, just as she reached for a similar string, red this time.
“The same as me!” She held them against her red and white shirt. “Red!”
“Emma!” He reached for the beads.
“Red Jasper,” the woman said. “A great stress reliever. Sir, perhaps they would be useful to you.”
Only if I strangle you with them!
“Emma, let me have that.” He picked her up so she couldn’t reach the table and pried the beads from her hand.
She howled.
The woman held up a string of pink beads.
Emma made a dive for them.
“Perhaps some rose quartz?”
Emma grabbed the beads the woman held out. Luke pried Emma’s fingers away and she squealed.
“For your heart’s love? They promote — ”
He finally captured the pink beads. Emma screamed and reached.
“My heart’s love is dead!” he said through clenched teeth and tossed the necklace on the table.
Then he turned — just in time to see Lanie walking away purposefully, her ponytail bobbing and her long legs eating up the pavement.
“Lanie!” he called.
She pretended not to hear.
Don’t run,
Lanie admonished herself as she turned the corner to Heavenly Confections. As much as she needed to be alone with her humiliation right now, it would be a million times worse if she brought attention to herself by running. She stopped and took a deep breath before continuing toward the front door of her shop, cursing herself the whole time for not bringing the key to the back door.
People were lined up to buy the peanut butter-filled chocolate footballs that Ben and Angela were selling outside the shop. She’d made them yesterday after returning from the doctor’s office. As she’d piped “Bobcats” on them in blue icing, all she’d been able to think about was a baby boy dressed in blue, with Windex blue eyes. When she’d finished, she’d showered and put on clean clothes so as not to expose Luke to even the smell of peanut butter.
Maybe she’d dig those dirty clothes out of the laundry, put them on and dab a little Jif behind her ears. She waved to Angela and Ben and went into the shop, hoping she could go straight upstairs. Good. The coast was clear. Kathryn and Phillip were busy with customers too.
Standing in the middle of the living room — Luke’s living room because it had not occurred her to go anywhere else — numbness took over. She’d been rushing to find Luke to show him the baby quilt she wanted to buy. The moment she saw the Noah’s Ark masterpiece, she knew she had to have it and she knew she couldn’t wait another second to tell Luke about the baby. She abandoned the rattle on the pillow plan and daydreamed about what would happen while she searched for him and Emma.
She would tell him there was a quilt she wanted to buy and that she knew enough about quilting to know that it was a bargain at a thousand dollars. He would be disinterested and tell her to go ahead, that he didn’t need to see it. She would insist and pull him to the booth. At first, he would be confused and say that Emma was a little old for it. Then she would smile and say it would be just right for Emma’s baby sister or brother. She would do it quietly so it could be their moment, even in the crowd. Then he would laugh, kiss her, and say maybe they shouldn’t wait until his parents got home to get married. And he would tell her he loved her in a voice that wasn’t quiet and settled, but was filled with fire, noise, bells, and brass bands.
This moment was supposed to be everything she’d ever wanted.
She wished she’d never gone to look for him. Then she wouldn’t have heard what he said. He’d looked so adorably flustered, trying to take the necklace away from Emma. She’d reached into her bag for a Polly Pocket to distract Emma and was about to call out to her when it happened.
Lanie blinked back tears. She would
not
cry, she would
not
be embarrassed. She’d done nothing wrong.
Except she
was
embarrassed — humiliated.
She had to get out of this apartment. She didn’t belong here. But the balcony was neutral territory —
her
territory, in fact. She stomped into the kitchen, retrieved the watering can from under the sink, and filled it. It wasn’t really satisfying to stomp without an audience. Still, she stomped out to the balcony and began watering the flowers she and Emma had set out in the boxes. Pansies, marigolds, petunias. They hadn’t bothered with seeds. She had wanted flowers, right damn now! And she’d gotten them, just like she’d gotten a child, right damn now!
The door behind her opened and she whirled around. Luke stood grim, wide-eyed and alone.
“Where is Emma?” she spat.
“Downstairs with Kathryn and Phillip.”
Lanie tried to brush by him.
He started to catch her arm but she stared him down. “Where are you going?” he asked.
“To get Emma.”
“No. Angela and Ben are almost sold out of that football candy. I gave them money to take Emma to get her face painted and play in those big inflatable toys when they finish.” He tried to put his hand on her arm but she jerked away. “We need to talk,” he said.
“You’ve been talking,” she said. “You’ve had plenty to say.”
“Come sit down.” He sat down on the settee — the one they’d almost had sex on two nights ago until they saw a light come on across the way at Kincaid Insurance. Then they’d run laughing down the hall toward the bedroom, kissing and shedding clothes as they went.
“No.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “I don’t believe I want to sit down.” He started to rise. “Keep your seat, Your Honor. I’ll just stand here in your exalted presence. You’re used to that.”
He sighed and put his head in his hands for a moment. He didn’t get up. She had the feeling he be might be afraid to.
“Lanie, I’m sorry. It didn’t mean anything.”
“No? Oh, well, then. My mistake. Forgive me for taking exception.”
“Be reasonable. I wasn’t thinking,
couldn’t
think. Emma was out of control, yelling and grabbing things. And that charlatan was encouraging her.”
“I never asked you to renounce what you had with Carrie. I did expect for you to avoid declaring to the public at large that I’m a second-rate substitute.”
“That’s not how it is.”
“That’s exactly how it is.”
“What do you want me to say?”
That you love
me
. That you want
me
. That
I
am the love of your heart now.
But that wasn’t going to happen. Not now, not ever.
“I don’t want you to say anything. I came here to get away from you. If I’d wanted you to say anything, I’d have stayed where you were.
You
followed
me
. Remember?”
He stood up and took a step toward her. If he hadn’t let those big beautiful eyes bore into hers, she wouldn’t have been distracted and would have moved before his hands settled on her shoulders. Mesmerizing vampire eyes — that’s what they were.
He gave a half nod. “That’s probably best — not to talk about it right now. You’re mad and hurt — ”
“I am not
hurt
! You don’t have the power to hurt me!” She jerked out of his grasp. Oh, if only that water can wasn’t empty. She’d have a wet t-shirt contest on this balcony right now. He’d be the only participant and he would
not
win.
“Okay.” He nodded. “Why don’t we drop Emma with Missy and go out for some lunch? We can put the top down and drive down to Birmingham. We have time before we need to get ready for the ball. Or I could go get some takeout and we could watch a movie. Then, when you feel better, we’ll talk about this.”
“Just tell me one thing, Luke. Do you plan for us to get married?”
“Of course I do.”
“Or do you plan to carry on indefinitely with this pretend family?”
“I gave you a ring, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.” But he didn’t want to talk about when. She had to admit that now. Every time she hinted about making plans, he put her off and she let him. She had told herself they were waiting until his parents returned to the country to set a date but he had never said any such thing. “You gave me a ring. We’re engaged. Let’s set a date. Right now.”
His face went ashen. “I … uh. I didn’t think — ,” said the great orator Judge Lucas Avery.
“That’s what I thought.” She raised her hand and pointed to the ring that she loved so much. “This is a ‘save the date’ card. You don’t quite want to issue an invitation yet. Just not that sure. But you want to lock in your plan, just in case you decide it is — no,
I
am what you want.”
“Lanie, no. We’ve been doing fine. Let’s just keep on like this.”
She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and walked toward the door.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To make candy.” Peanut brittle, peanut butter fudge, peanut clusters …
“But you don’t make candy on weekends anymore. We spend time together on weekends.”
She turned and looked at him. “Why don’t you just have a
quiet and settled
afternoon?”
• • •
Well, hell. This was going to cost him. With Carrie, it would have cost a large piece of jewelry or a trip that required a passport. It was hard to tell with Lanie. He went inside. Might as well get caught up on his professional reading while she cooled down.
The sooner he could fix this the better. He’d grown used to the easy pleasantness, the laughter. He’d do whatever it took to ensure that this happiness continued.
Happy?
Is that what this was?
And was Lanie right about his reluctance to set a date? Even if that was true, what was so bad about it? He needed time to adjust. They all did. Didn’t they?
He had no time to think about that because his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. Damn it all to hell.
“Hello.”
“Judge? Tiptoe Watkins here. Etheline’s at it again. Planting vegetables on old Judge Martindale’s grave. If I don’t miss my guess, cucumbers and yellow squash this time.”
Oh, Lord, not now. He had a woman to talk down. Maybe he could send Phillip. He was charming. Or maybe he’d be better off to have Phillip talk reason with Lanie.
Ah, hell.
“All right, Tiptoe. I’m on my way. I’ll talk to her.”
“You’re coming?
You
?”
“I said so, didn’t I?”
“You said so the last time, when Etheline was planting corn and pumpkins but Olive Wainwright is the one who came. Knew that wouldn’t do any good.”
“Oh. Sorry about that. I had an emergency that day. With my little girl.”
“I reckon I can see that. You got an emergency today?”
You have no idea, Tiptoe. None.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
The Merritt City Cemetery was well kept, serene, and empty except for the woman in a print dress kneeling on a grave and Tiptoe Watkins standing a respectful distance away.
Luke had been rehearsing his stern speech in his head all the way over here, but when he saw Etheline Martindale and her flowered garden gloves, pearls, wide brimmed straw hat, and basket of gardening tools, he rethought his plan.