“That’s sexist, you know,” Patti said as she grudgingly complied. “You never ask Charles to help serve.”
To Elizabeth’s surprise, Augusta zeroed in on Patti with a terse, “Patricia, remember yourself. Help your mother.”
“But Gamma—”
“Gamma, nothing.” Augusta eased into the chair Charles held for her. “Polite young ladies do not speak that way to their elders.” She eyed her granddaughter as Patti placed bowls of mashed potatoes and butter peas on the table. “I’ve been considering asking you to accompany me on a grand tour of Europe, but if this is the way you plan to act, I—”
“Europe?” Patti shrieked with joy.
You could have knocked Elizabeth over with a feather.
“Oh, Gamma,” Patti said, “I’m
dying
to go to Europe. I’d l
ove
to go to Europe with you. I’ll be a perfect lady, I swear.”
“Perfect ladies don’t swear,” Augusta said with an actual hint of humor.
Howe stared at his mother in disbelief. Augusta hadn’t even been west of the Mississippi, much less overseas. “Europe?”
Mistaking his reaction for disapproval, Patti sagged, crestfallen, into her chair. “My parents probably won’t let me. I have to work at the bank and go to Grade Thirteen.”
“I don’t know about that,” Elizabeth said as she laid the roast beef and gravy onto the table. “Touring Europe would certainly
be educational.” She sat and put her napkin in her lap. “What do you think, Howe? I know we said Patti needed to work and go to school, but all that will be here when she gets back.”
Hope bloomed in Patti’s expression. “Please, Daddy. Pleeese.”
Howe nodded to Elizabeth, graciously allowing her to take the credit with, “It’s your mother’s decision.”
“I think it would be wonderful.” Elizabeth smiled at Patti. “As long as you promise to buckle down to your studies once you get back.”
“Oh, I will. Mama, thank you!” Patti exploded, practically tackling her with a hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Elizabeth savored the brief joy of Patti’s gratitude and the feel of her daughter in her arms for the first time in so long.
Then Patti let go and plopped back into her seat, serving herself a huge dollop of mashed potatoes. “When can we leave?” She helped herself to butter peas. “Where are we going? How long will we be gone?”
Augusta actually smiled, and her face didn’t crack. “We can go whenever we want. I thought the first of the month. That gives us two weeks to get ready and pack.”
Augusta handed her plate to Howe for a serving of beef. “We’ll have our own driver, with five-star accommodations, all the way.” She’d obviously done a lot of planning. “We’ll start with four days in London, then on to Stratford and Bath and the Cotswolds. Then up to Scotland for the Isle of Skye and Inverness. Then on to Paris for four days, to see the museums. Then Switzerland and Prague. Then Italy. We’ll be gone a month, in all.”
“What a fabulous trip,” Elizabeth said.
“I think this calls for a special blessing,” Howe announced, taking Charles’s and his mother’s hands.
Augusta stared at his hand holding hers, then awkwardly took Patti’s as they formed a circle and bowed their heads, something else they hadn’t done before.
“Heavenly Father,” Howe prayed, “We thank You for this meal and the hands that prepared it, and all the many blessings You have given us. Most of all, we thank You for this family, especially for Mama and the generous offer she’s just made to share this special trip with Patti. I ask for protection and special blessings as they travel. Bring them home safe and sound. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, amen.”
Elizabeth felt herself relax. Augusta was right. A month without her or Patti to contend with would be a welcome respite for everyone. And Patti was so happy. Buoyed, Elizabeth started serving her plate.
“Well, Charles,” Howe said as he did the same. “What’s up with you besides the garden?”
Charles beamed. “It’s not as exciting as Gamma’s bombshell, but you know I’ve always wanted to get into politics. Well, a few of the movers and shakers I’ve met want me to run for mayor.”
Howe almost choked. “Of Atlanta?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Augusta sputtered. “That is preposterous. Nobody white can get elected mayor of Atlanta.”
Elizabeth raised her eyes heavenward at the comment, which was probably true but came across as racist.
“Damn, boy,” Howe blustered. “Talk about a no-win job. That’s almost as crazy as wanting to be president.”
Charles smiled. “I might just want to do that, too, someday.” He shrugged. “I’ve got to start somewhere. This is it.”
“Cool,” Patti told her brother. “But you know you don’t stand a chance.”
Charles laughed. “Oh, they don’t expect me to win. They just think it would be good exposure. Get my name out there, and my face. It’s strictly preliminary. I’ll drop out before we get into the big bucks.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Elizabeth said.
“What then?” Howe asked.
“After I finish clerking, I’ll go with the DA’s office; get my sea legs trying cases. Then I may run for state representative. After that, Congress. We’ll see.”
“I’ve never doubted for a minute that you’ll go far in this world,” Elizabeth told her son.
Howe stood, glass lifted. “I think this calls for a toast. To the
next
Charles Howell Whittington in the State House.”
“Hear, hear,” Augusta said as they rose and touched their glasses while Charles smiled with pride.
Just as they sat down, the phone rang. When Patti started to get up and answer it, Howe caught her arm. “They can leave a message. We’re eating.” After the fourth ring, the call service picked up.
But before thirty seconds had passed, the phone rang again. Patti shot a pleading look to her father, but Howe didn’t budge.
“This is the first time we’ve had dinner as a family since I came home, and we are not taking any calls.”
The ringing stopped, then started again. Elizabeth decided to put an end to the disruptions. Closest to the phone, she rose. “I’ll ask whoever it is to call back later.” She crossed to the counter and saw “Insufficient data” on the cordless receiver’s screen, then pushed the talk button. “Hello?”
“Thank God it’s you.”
P.J.! What was he doing, calling her at home? “Are you all right? Has something happened?”
“I have to see you.”
What was he thinking? Her mind raced. She had to cover. “I’m sorry, Anne,” she said with deliberate calm, “but I’m having dinner with my family right now, so we’ll have to go over that later.”
“Meet me tomorrow,” he insisted. “Houston’s at noon.”
He had some nerve. “I’m sorry, but that really won’t work for me. I have to go now.”
“If you don’t come, I’ll come to you.”
He wouldn’t! Elizabeth’s heart pounded in panic. The others were watching her, wondering what was going on.
“Elizabeth, I don’t make idle threats,” P.J. said. “Meet me, or I’ll come there and tell Howe how I feel about you.”
“Why don’t we go over that tomorrow?” she relented, furious at him for pulling such a stunt. “We could have lunch.”
“I’ll see you at noon.” He hung up.
Elizabeth felt as if he’d pulled a plug and all the blood had run out of her.
Howe eyed her with a peculiar expression on his face. “What was that all about?”
Elizabeth focused on her plate as she sat. “Anne had some big idea for the Altar Guild.” Damn. She did
not
just say that!
Howe winced as Augusta went stiff as a board.
Perfect. Nothing like rubbing salt in the wound.
Howe came to her rescue with, “So Charles, how can we help you out with this campaign?”
“Don’t sock anybody in vestry meetings,” Charles quipped. “And try to stay out of the papers.” He looked to Elizabeth and his father. “But I don’t need to worry about you two.”
Unless P.J. turned up on their doorstep professing love for Elizabeth. It wouldn’t matter that Elizabeth hadn’t done anything. Everybody in Whittington would believe the worst, and the scandal would humiliate the whole family.
Holy heaven. What was she going to do?
The next morning, just to be on the safe side, Elizabeth told Howe something had come up, preempting her lunch with Anne. He could clearly tell that something was amiss, but he didn’t press. “I’ll be home by three,” she said as she left. Did he suspect the truth? She couldn’t tell from his newly shuttered expression.
On her way down to Atlanta, she wondered if it had ever been as hard for Howe to lie to her as it was for her to reciprocate. The thought made her even angrier at P.J. for making it necessary.
She would end it, pure and simple. Then she’d tell Howe the truth.
By the time she walked into the restaurant, she was feeling cold fury at P.J.
“Ah, Mrs. Whittington,” the hostess said. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
Elizabeth faltered. How in blue-bloody hell did the woman know her name?
“Please follow me. Mr. Atkinson is already at your regular table.”
Names? Regular table? Elizabeth had a bad feeling about this. Very bad.
She scanned the restaurant for any familiar faces, but didn’t see any. Thank God.
P.J. rose when she reached the booth, leaning over to give her a very public peck on the cheek, but Elizabeth dodged him, sliding into her side with a glare of rebuke.
P.J. kept right on smiling as he sat to face her. “You look wonderful, as always.”
The waitress came immediately. “Good afternoon, Mr. Atkinson. Mrs. Whittington.”
Again with the names! P.J. had to be the one who’d told them.
Very
not good!
“And what may I bring you to drink, Mrs. Whittington?”
P.J. grinned. “Bring us your best bottle of champagne. We’re celebrating.”
“We are not,” Elizabeth countered. “I’m not staying.” She glared at the waitress. “Please leave us.”
The waitress pulled a face and slipped away.
Elizabeth leaned across the polished table to murmur harshly above the din of the restaurant. “P.J., I cannot believe you’d pull something like this. Have you lost your mind? Surely you don’t think this is going to win me over.” She didn’t pause for a response. “Because it’s done just the opposite. So I’m ending it. Now. It’s over.”
He didn’t react, just sat there, smiling with the confidence of a cat with its paw on a mouse’s tail.
“Didn’t you hear me?” she demanded. When he failed to respond, she tried another tack. “I’ve decided to try to make my marriage work. If you really care about me the way you say you do, you’ll respect my decision.”
P.J.’s expression hardened, intensifying the predatory gleam in his eyes. “Not if that decision is destructive. Howe’s no good for you, Elizabeth. He can say he’s changed all he wants, but underneath it, he’s still the same man. He’ll end up using you, just like he always did.”
“I don’t believe that,” she defended.
“I can’t let you do this,” P.J. said. “You’ll thank me in the end. I have no intention of giving up on what’s best for you, ever, and what’s best for you is me, not Howe. I can’t let him have you.”
At last, the truth. It hit Elizabeth like a semi. P.J. didn’t love her. He wanted her, like some trophy.
But why her? He could have his pick of young and willing Atlanta babes.
Was it the chase? The fact that Elizabeth wasn’t available?
“If I have to,” he said smoothly, “I’ll tell everybody about us.”
“But there’s nothing to tell.”
His mouth curled into a cold smile that Elizabeth recognized all too well from Howe’s past. “Do you really think people will believe that?” he asked.
Elizabeth’s throat constricted. “P.J., that’s crazy. You wouldn’t.”
He leveled a chilling stare at her. “Don’t bet on it.”
She had to think. Buy enough time to tell Howe the truth before P.J. lied to him. “I . . . I have to think about this.”
“Don’t take too long,” P.J. warned.
A woman’s voice sounded from behind her. “Elizabeth? Is that you?”
Adrenaline shot through Elizabeth as she turned to find Carole Thompson from Garden Club with her daughter Hannah. Blood rushed to her face. “Carole,” she said, belying her alarm. “So good to see you.”
P.J. rose. “We were just about to have some lunch. Please join us.”
Carole shot a pointed glance from him to Elizabeth, then declined with a snide, “Thanks, but we wouldn’t dream of intruding.” She gave Elizabeth a subtle nudge. “Have fun.”
“Actually, I was just leaving,” Elizabeth said without looking at P.J. “Howe’s had a minor emergency with the house. You know how renovations go.”
The sommelier chose just that moment to arrive with the champagne in a bucket. “Your champagne. Enjoy.”
Perfect.
Carole’s eyebrows lifted as she shepherded her daughter toward the next booth. “Come along, Hannah.”
Elizabeth forced herself to turn back to P.J. “It was nice running into you, P.J., but as I said, I really do have to run.”