His scowl deepened. “You’re testing my patience, Mary Vaughn.”
“Lunch?” she suggested, instead. “Dinner? Can I at least do that?”
He looked as if he was waging an internal war with himself, but he finally sighed and nodded. “Lunch would be great.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Sure, why not?”
She grinned at his evident reluctance. “I promise to make it painless,” she said lightly.
“Don’t go making promises you can’t keep, sugar. I’ll see you tomorrow at noon. Sullivan’s? Or do you feel like driving over to that diner you used to like for some real Southern cooking?”
“You’d probably rather have a burger at Wharton’s,” she said.
“Under other circumstances, yes,” he agreed.
“You mean with anyone other than me.”
“You have to admit, the whole town will be speculating if we walk into Wharton’s together, including my father.”
“It won’t be the first time I’ve stirred up gossip,” she reminded him. “I can handle it if you can.”
He regarded her speculatively, then shrugged. “Okay, then. Wharton’s it is.”
Satisfied, Mary Vaughn gave him an impulsive peck on the cheek, then walked out. She wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened between her and Sonny, but suddenly it felt like a whole lot more than agreeing to some kind of thank-you lunch.
The next day Mary Vaughn sucked in a deep breath, then walked into Wharton’s and marched straight to a prime booth right in front of the window. If she and Sonny were going to have this little get-together in gossip central, they might as well be in plain view. Hiding in back would only stir up more speculation.
Grace Wharton arrived before Mary Vaughn could slide all the way into her seat and studied her with undisguised curiosity. “Don’t see much of you in here at lunchtime, at least not all by yourself,” she said as she set a menu on the Formica-topped table.
“Someone’s joining me,” Mary Vaughn said, oddly reluctant to admit that it was Sonny. She was the one who’d claimed not to give two figs about stirring up gossip, but all of a sudden she wondered if it wasn’t a bad idea. For one thing, as Sonny had reminded her, Howard was a regular here at lunchtime, along with several of his cronies. At least at Sullivan’s most of the lunch customers were daytrippers who’d read about the restaurant in one of the regional magazines. And if they’d driven to that diner, it was doubtful they’d have seen anyone they knew.
“A client, I imagine,” Grace said, setting another menu at the place across from her.
Mary Vaughn lifted her chin and met Grace’s gaze. Grace was a wonderful woman who prided herself on knowing everything that was going on in town. She knew it because she paid attention and asked intrusive questions. Amazingly, no one in town held it against her. That didn’t mean Mary Vaughn had to cooperate.
“I’d like a glass of sweet tea, please,” she told Grace.
“And you can go ahead and bring a diet soda for my friend.”
Normally her deliberate evasiveness would have piqued Grace’s curiosity to the point that she’d try a few more questions, but for some reason today, she just hurried away to fill the order.
Not two minutes later, just as Grace was putting the drinks on the table, Sonny walked in, removed his sunglasses and took a minute to allow his eyes to adjust. His hair was a little windblown, which told Mary Vaughn that he’d borrowed a convertible from the lot for the drive. She’d always thought he looked sexy as the dickens when his hair was mussed, his sleeves rolled up and his shirt open at the collar as it was now. Once again, she felt that funny little jolt of awareness that made her feel suddenly selfconscious with a man she’d known almost all her life.
“Well, will you look at what the cat dragged in,” Grace said, glancing from him to Mary Vaughn. “He’s probably here to meet his daddy.”
Mary Vaughn didn’t reply, in part because she couldn’t seem to get a word past the unexpected lump in her throat. Damn, he was good-looking. She’d always known that, but it had never kicked her pulse into gear the way it seemed to be doing today.
When Sonny headed straight for Mary Vaughn’s booth right by the front window, Grace inhaled sharply and murmured, “Well, I’ll be,” then whirled around and rushed away, no doubt to spread the word far and wide that Mary Vaughn and Sonny Lewis were about to break bread together, and that they were acting perfectly civilized. Wharton’s would be packed within the next half hour with people wanting a glimpse of the two of them. Bets would be wagered before the end of the day on what it all meant. Mary Vaughn sighed.
“You were right. This was probably a bad idea,” she told Sonny.
He shrugged, as unconcerned today as she’d been the night before. “It’s Serenity, sugar. Talkin’ is what people do.”
“Do you really want them talking about us?”
“Nothing new in that,” he reminded her. “Are you ready to order? I need to get back for my sales meeting.”
Mary Vaughn was feeling too uncomfortable to even glance at the chalkboard with the day’s specials on it. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“Cheeseburger with fries?” he asked, sounding surprised. Normally she ate a container of yogurt or a salad for lunch unless she was dining with a client. She hadn’t had a burger in a year.
“A burger sounds perfect,” she said, throwing caution to the wind. Today seemed the day for it.
“And fries?” Sonny asked again, as if he still couldn’t quite believe his ears.
“And fries.”
A smile spread across his face. “You remember what we were talking about last night, about people being able to change?”
“Of course.”
“Sugar, if you’ll order a milk shake with that, then you’ll make a true believer out of me.”
She frowned at his teasing. “It’s lunch, not a conversion.”
“After watching you nibble on lettuce leaves most of our adult lives, this is noteworthy,” he insisted.
“You won’t be so pleased by that when my hips start looking like two watermelons stuffed into a pair of pants.”
“You know, Mary Vaughn, that’s just one more thing you never understood about me. You’re a beautiful woman, no doubt about it, but I always loved who you were, not how you looked.”
She regarded him with skepticism. Before she could argue with him, though, Howard walked into Wharton’s took one look at them and gaped.
“Never expected to find you two sitting here all cozy,”
he said. “You here to talk about our Christmas plans with Rory Sue?”
Mary Vaughn left the explanation to Sonny.
“Nope,” he told his father. “We’re on a date.”
Even though her heart took an unexpected lurch at his ridiculous claim, Mary Vaughn scowled at her ex-husband.
“We are not.”
He grinned. “What would you call it?”
“A mistake,” she suggested dryly.
Howard beamed at them. “Well, whatever it is, it’s good to see the two of you together. Rory Sue would be mighty pleased if she could see you.”
“Don’t you say a word to Rory Sue about this,” Mary Vaughn said.
“That’s right, Daddy,” Sonny admonished. “You keep this to yourself. We don’t want her getting ideas. She’ll just wind up being disappointed.”
Howard gave his son a penetrating look. “You so sure about that? I never did understand why the two of you split up in the first place. You never gave me an explanation that made a lick of sense.”
“Because it was none of your business,” Sonny said flatly. “Go on and meet your friends, Daddy. Their eyes are practically bugging out from staring over here. You might as well fill them in on what the two of us are doing here together.”
Howard regarded him with obvious frustration. “I don’t know why you’re here together.”
Mary Vaughn gave him her sweetest smile. “Then you won’t have too much to say, will you? You can move right on to other, more interesting topics.”
“You’re still full of sass and vinegar, aren’t you?” For once, Howard’s tone was almost admiring.
“I do try to be,” she told him.
“Well, whatever you’re doing here, enjoy yourselves,”
Howard said and walked away to join his friends.
“Well, that was awkward,” Mary Vaughn said. Sonny’s eyes, however, were glinting with humor. “But you have to admit it was kind of fun to get him all riled up. Daddy hates being out of the loop when it comes to family, and now he’s convinced we’re keeping something from him.”
“An interesting perspective,” Mary Vaughn agreed.
“After all the times your daddy was on my case about one thing or another, including all his objections to the two of us getting married in the first place, I have to admit it’s downright rewarding to see him hoping we’ll get back together. I figured he’d go to his grave still thanking God we’d gotten a divorce.”
For an instant, Sonny looked stunned. “You think that’s what he wants? For us to get back together?”
“I think he wants his granddaughter to be happy, and us getting back together is what she wants.”
“Uh-oh,” Sonny said, looking disconcerted. Mary Vaughn laughed at his expression. “You scared your daddy’s going to start meddling?”
“He’s not above it,” Sonny predicted direly. “And if I were you, I wouldn’t be so amused. My father almost always gets what he sets his mind to.”
Mary Vaughn felt a tiny shiver go through her. She couldn’t be sure if it was out of fear…or anticipation.
16
Jeanette slipped into Sullivan’s through the kitchen door, made a dash across the room and peeked into the dining room to see if Tom and his awful mother had been seated yet.
“Not that I don’t love to see you under any circumstances,” Erik commented. “But do you want to tell me why you’re in my kitchen, instead of out there with the other diners?”
“Tom’s mother,” she said in a low voice.
“You checking her out?” he asked, his expression bewildered.
“No need for that,” Jeanette said. “I already know the old harridan.”
Erik’s lips twitched. “Does Tom have any idea what a high opinion you have of his mother?”
“He does,” she said, then pulled out a stool and sat down. “And can you believe he wants us to have lunch together, anyway?”
Erik didn’t even try to contain a chuckle. He pointed toward the dining room. “Out of my kitchen. I’m not getting in the middle of this.”
“Dana Sue would let me stay,” she said.
“Dana Sue’s not here. I’m in charge.”
She frowned at him. “Does being in charge always make you mean?”
“You’ll have to ask Karen or Dana Sue about that. Or maybe Helen. Of course, this kitchen is the one place she never seemed to mind taking orders from me.” He sighed dramatically. “Now that we’re married she never listens to me at all.”
“If I could spare the time, I’d feel real sorry for you,” she said. “But I’m having my own pity party here.”
“No,” he corrected, “you’re having it out there. My kitchen’s off-limits. Go.”
“If you say so, but I’m warning you not to serve us with the good china or crystal. Some of it’s likely to end up broken before we’re through today.”
“Be sure you give me a heads-up before you start throwing things. I’d like to evacuate the other customers.” His expression turned wicked. “Or charge ’em extra for the floor show. Now, go.”
“You are not a very sympathetic man,” Jeanette told him, but she reluctantly left the kitchen and headed toward the table where Tom and his mother were just being seated. Tom’s expression brightened the instant he saw her, which she figured was going to be the high point of the meal. After his mother caught sight of her, things were likely to slide downhill.
“Where’d you come from?” Tom asked, pulling out a chair for her.
“I stopped in the kitchen to speak to Erik,” she fibbed. Mrs. McDonald gave her a sour look. “Probably told him to lace my food with arsenic,” she murmured.
“Mother!” Tom chided.
Jeanette gave her a cheery smile. “Now, why didn’t I think of that?”
Tom frowned at her. “Jeanette!”
To Jeanette’s surprise, his mother’s lips almost curved into a smile, though she quickly hid it by taking a sip of water. That tiny hint of approval, though, gave Jeanette hope. Maybe Mrs. McDonald was one of those perverse women who liked stirring the pot, but liked it even better if someone else responded by adding a little spice instead of backing down. It was entirely possible she admired a woman with spunk. Well, she had spunk to spare.
“Erik’s made a wonderful broccoli quiche today,” she told them. “He was just taking one out of the oven when I was in there.”
“I’ve never understood the appeal of quiche,” Mrs. McDonald said.
“The meat loaf is a favorite,” Jeanette said, doing her best to remain upbeat. “And, of course, no one does a better job with fish.”
“She’s right,” Tom said. “I’ve had both and can highly recommend either one. I think today’s special is steamed sea bass with julienne vegetables. I’m having that. Mother, what looks good to you?”
“I’ll just have a bowl of soup,” she said without glancing at the menu.
“The gazpacho is excellent,” Jeanette said.
“Too spicy,” his mother said.
“They put homemade noodles in their chicken soup,”
Tom said, starting to sound a little desperate.
“I’m not ill,” his mother replied tartly. “I believe I’ll try the lentil soup.”
Tom regarded her with relief. “I’ll get the waitress,” he said eagerly. Apparently his enthusiasm for this adventure had died and he was now as anxious to have this meal over and done with as Jeanette was.
He placed their orders. Jeanette placed her own and then Tom sat back and regarded the two of them expectantly. When his mother remained grimly silent, so did Jeanette. Under the table he placed a hand on her thigh and then gave her an imploring look. She relented. She could at least make an effort. If it blew up in her face, well, she’d warned Tom his expectations were too high.
“Mrs. McDonald, I understand you’re involved with a number of charity functions. Are you working on anything now?”
Tom beamed at her gratefully. His mother looked as if she wanted to ignore the question, but when he scowled at her, she gave in.
“The ball for the cancer society is coming up,” she said grudgingly.
“That’s always been one of the most successful events in Charleston,” Jeanette said, then added, “We used to get a lot of clients in the days leading up to that. Everyone wanted to look their absolute best.”
The second the words were out of her mouth, she knew she’d said exactly the wrong thing. She’d just reminded Mrs. McDonald what she did for a living and where she’d previously worked. Worse, if she wasn’t mistaken, Mrs. McDonald had come into Chez Bella’s prior to the cancer ball for the treatment that had resulted in so much misplaced animosity.
The older woman gave her a smug look. “You see, Tom, it’s just as I’ve always told you. These events aren’t a frivolous waste of time for the rich. A lot of people rely on them to make money.” She turned to Jeanette. “I’m sure you counted on those tips to make ends meet, didn’t you? Even in Charleston’s less established neighborhoods, housing is expensive.”
Jeanette refused to be baited. “Actually, Bella paid me handsomely, but my clients were always very generous, as well. They are here, too. I like to think it’s because I give them excellent service.” And not because they wanted to be sure she could afford to keep a roof over her head, which was what Mrs. McDonald was trying so hard to imply. She forced a smile. “But it’s never been about the money for me. I love what I do. And it’s been very rewarding to build a new spa from the ground up, to be in demand with a whole new clientele, many of whom never thought of getting a spa treatment before we opened here.”
“Then you’ve priced these treatments for the masses?”
Mrs. McDonald said derisively. “I’ve always held the belief that people get what they pay for.”
Jeanette was rapidly losing patience. Her hold on her temper was one fragile thread away from snapping. Apparently Tom sensed it.
“Mother, why don’t you tell Jeanette about the cruise you and Dad are planning in January.”
His mother smiled at him, her expression doting. Even Jeanette, as biased as she was, could see her love for her son shining in her eyes. Maybe she wasn’t all bad. If Jeanette really set her mind to it, maybe she could give Mrs. McDonald the benefit of the doubt. She owed that much to Tom.
“I’m surprised you remembered we were going with all you have to do,” Mrs. McDonald said.
Jeanette figured he was probably looking forward to her absence, but of course she couldn’t say that, not with her resolution to be more open-minded so fresh. Mrs. McDonald turned to Jeanette. “We’re taking a twoweek cruise in the Caribbean,” she said, then added pointedly, “All of it first-class, including a magnificent spa.”
“Which cruise line?” Jeanette inquired.
When Mrs. McDonald named it, her tone superior, Jeanette nodded. “Of course, I know Laine Walker very well. She’s in charge of their spa services.”
Mrs. McDonald looked taken aback. “You know Laine?”
Jeanette nodded. “She trained with me in Paris.”
To her satisfaction, Mrs. McDonald’s mouth gaped. “You trained in Paris?” she repeated incredulously.
“For several years,” she told her, triumphant at having thrown her so completely. “That’s where Bella found me. I was working at one of the most exclusive spas in the city when she convinced me to come to Charleston. I’d missed home, so I accepted her very generous offer.”
“I had no idea,” Mrs. McDonald murmured and fell silent.
The rest of the meal went smoothly enough with Tom leading the conversation and doing his best to make sure he included both of them. He stuck to safe, neutral topics—
the food, the weather, favorite restaurants in Charleston. When those topics were exhausted, Jeanette glanced at her watch and stood. “I’m sorry to have to run, but I need to get back to work. I have a full schedule of clients this afternoon.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Tom said. “Mother, why don’t you take a look at the dessert menu.”
“Goodbye, Mrs. McDonald,” Jeanette said, unable to add that it had been a pleasure to see her, when it had been stiff and awkward.
Outside, Tom uttered an audible sigh of relief. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Compared to torture?”
“Come on,” he coaxed. “At least she tried.”
“No, at least she didn’t dump her meal in my lap,”
Jeanette corrected. “She wanted to, though. I could see it in her eyes.”
“That was before you mentioned training in Paris. You took the wind right out of her sails with that one. Why didn’t I know about Paris?”
“You never asked,” she said simply. “As for your mother, she’ll probably never look at Paris quite the same way again, now that it’s been tainted by the likes of me.”
“Can’t you please give her a break?”
“I just did,” she reminded him. “I didn’t walk out on both of you.”
“You really don’t think it went well?”
She regarded him with astonishment. “Were you there?”
“Of course I was. There was no water dumped, no food thrown, no bloodshed. I consider it a success.”
“Then obviously you had very low expectations,” she told him.
He shrugged. “Can you blame me? The two of you got off on a bad foot back in Charleston. Her fault,” he hastened to add. “Peace isn’t going to happen overnight. Eventually the two of you will be able to laugh about what happened.”
She shook her head. “Please, please, please, do not ever ask me to do this again. She’s your mother and I don’t mean to insult her or you, but I don’t like her. She doesn’t like me. Let’s just call it a draw and be done with it.”
“I don’t think I can do that,” Tom said.
“Why not?”
“It’ll be damn awkward at the wedding,” he said, then kissed her hard and walked away.
Jeanette stared after him, openmouthed with shock. Wedding? Was he crazy? It was the second time he’d said something like that, and while she was flattered, maybe even a little tempted, she knew with one hundred percent certainty that she couldn’t marry into a family like his. She couldn’t marry him. She hadn’t even reached the point where she was willing to date him.
She rubbed her still-tingling lips. Sex with him, on the other hand, might be a distinct possibility. Tom whistled as he returned to his office, which had Teresa regarding him with undisguised curiosity.
“You’re in a good mood,” she said. “Does it have something to do with the lunch you just had with Jeanette at Sullivan’s?”
“Jeanette and my mother, which you already knew,” he reminded her. “I know you check the calendar I keep every day now to be sure I’m not scheduling things you don’t know about.”
“Wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t know what you were up to during office hours.” She smiled. “So, lunch went well?” She sounded incredulous.
“Truthfully, lunch was a little tense,” he admitted. “But I have high hopes for later tonight.”
“I assume you’re referring to an evening with Jeanette and not your mother,” she said.
“Of course. Hold my calls. I need to make some plans.”
Teresa followed him into his office. “What are you up to?”
“None of your business,” he said.
“If you don’t mind me saying so, you have a very strange way of courting a woman.”
“I repeat, none of your business.”
Teresa was undeterred. “Do you want Jeanette or not?”
He sighed, sat down behind his desk and looked up at her. He should have known his secretary would have an opinion about this. “Obviously you think I’m going about it all wrong.”
“Well, duh! You took her to lunch with your mother, a woman she despises, from everything I hear.” She gave him a wry look. “And we both know I hear quite a lot.”
“Agreed,” he conceded.
“Yet you think Jeanette’s going to be eager to spend a romantic evening with you?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so. She’s probably hightailing it out of town, as we speak.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Read my lips. Because you subjected her to an hour with your mother, whom she hates. And based on my experience over the whole drapery project, I don’t blame her,”
she said. “If you’ll pardon me for saying so.”
He waved off the apology. He could hardly argue the point.
“Look, I was trying to bridge the gap between them, make peace, open the lines of communication.”
“Ha! I imagine all you did was remind both of them that they don’t like each other. Trust me, that does not work in your favor.”
“What am I doing having this conversation with you?”
he muttered. “It’s completely inappropriate.”
“You need my help,” Teresa replied. “Like most men, you are clueless when it comes to women, especially Jeanette, who has not dated anyone since she moved to Serenity three years ago. She has a hard-and-fast rule about dating. If you expect her to break that rule, you need to be offering more than a guaranteed conflict with your mother.”
“Some people consider me a good catch,” he told Teresa.
“Maybe you are. The jury’s still out on that around here. All I’m saying is you’re going to have to strut your stuff if you want Jeanette.”
He stared at her. “Strut my stuff? What the hell does that mean?”
“Show her the kind of man you are. Treat her with dignity and respect. Woo her. And for goodness’ sake, leave your mother out of it.”
He would dearly love to leave his mother out of it, but she was already a bone of contention. He seriously doubted any of them could pretend otherwise.
“Okay, Ms. Lonely Hearts, what should I do next? I can’t keep sending Jeanette scones and bread pudding or dropping by with her favorite pizza.”
Teresa sat down, her expression thoughtful. “Just how much money do you have?”
Tom nearly choked at the question. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not asking to see your bank statement,” she said.
“I’m just wondering if you have enough to do something completely over the top.”
“Such as?”
“Flying her to Paris for dinner,” she said, her expression dreamy. “Jeanette wouldn’t be able to resist a man who did something like that. She loved living in Paris.”
For a moment, Tom actually considered the idea, then dismissed it. He doubted he could convince Jeanette to take a day trip to Savannah with him, much less an excursion to Paris.
“I think we’d better forget about Paris for the time being,” he told her.
“Well, taking her bowling’s not going to do it,” Teresa said. Tom’s head was starting to reel. “Who said anything about bowling?”
“There’s not a lot else to do in Serenity.”
“I don’t think Jeanette moved here for the exciting nightlife,” Tom said. “Teresa, I appreciate your input, I really do, but I think I’d better follow my own instincts about this.”