“At least she has good taste in women,” Georgia said at last.
“Here, let me take that for you.” Eager to leave, Langdon gathered their plates before they’d finished eating and set off to find the trash can.
Bennett nudged Georgia. “I’m glad to see the two of you are working things out. I’m surprised you let him come with you tonight after what happened.”
Georgia froze. “What do you mean?”
Bennett gawked at Midge. “You didn’t tell her?”
“Tell me what?” Georgia asked, looking back and forth between them.
Midge shut him up with a death stare. “I was planning to tell you tomorrow. That’s why I asked you to tea.”
Georgia’s face flushed crimson. “Whatever it is, I want to know now.”
Midge’s eyes traveled the room. “I’m not sure this is the right time or place. How about we go for coffee first thing in the morning.”
“I don’t want to wait until morning,” Georgia said through gritted teeth. “Tell me now, Midge.”
Midge sighed. “Okay, but you better brace yourself. This won’t be easy to hear.” She lowered her voice and pressed her body close to Georgia’s. “I was picking up a contract from an out-of-town client at a hotel on the north side of town when I ran into Lang with another woman.”
Georgia willed her voice to remain even. “When did this happen?”
“A few weeks ago, on a Friday afternoon.”
Anger pulsed through Georgia’s veins. “You’ve known about this for a few weeks, and you’re just now getting around to telling me.”
Midge responded with a sheepish nod. “Lula and I decided it best to wait until after the holiday to tell you.”
“So Lula knows, too.” Georgia’s voice grew shrill, and heads turned to stare, but she didn’t care who overheard. “And neither of you could find the time to tell me my husband is cheating on me with another woman. Obviously, our friendship means nothing to you.”
Georgia forced her way through the crowd and fled the party through the back door, out into the stormy evening.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Midge
“You’ve done some asinine things, Bennett, but that one really takes the cake,” Midge said as they were leaving Sullivan’s Island headed back toward Mount Pleasant.
Bennett struggled to see the road through the rain pounding the windshield. “How was I supposed to know you hadn’t told her? Why haven’t you told her? I’m still not clear on that. You saw Lang with this other woman weeks ago!”
“I’ve been summoning my courage. It’s not easy breaking someone’s heart. You heard what I said to Georgia. I was planning to tell her tomorrow. She worships Lang, however misguided those emotions may be.”
“I don’t understand you women. You were worried about hurting Georgia’s feelings when what you should’ve been worried about was sparing her the humiliation of having the whole world find out her husband cheated on her.”
“Shut up, Bennett.” She punched him hard in the arm, and he winced.
“Ouch! That hurt.” He rested one hand on the steering wheel and rubbed his bruised arm with the other.
“You’re so infuriating.” She looked away from him and stared at the rain coming down in sheets. “We’ve had such a pleasant day, and you had to go and ruin it. I was starting to reconnect with the Bennett I fell in love with, but now I’m wondering if that man is just an illusion. It’s like you have a split personality or something. I don’t understand how you can be so considerate and attentive one minute and such a jackass the next. Why did you do that to Georgia? Was it worth destroying her marriage just so you can be the center of attention?”
“I didn’t destroy her marriage. Lang took care of that himself. And no, I don’t always have to be the center of attention.”
“You do when we’re in public,” Midge said. “Your mother even said so.”
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “You talked to my mother about me?”
“No. She talked to me about you. Boy, you sure have her fooled.”
He shot her a warning look. “Don’t talk about my mother.”
Midge folded her arms over her chest. “How about if we don’t talk at all?”
They crossed the Cooper River Bridge and drove through downtown in silence. The deep water on certain streets forced them to drive slow. When they finally arrived at her house, he parked his BMW behind her car on the curb and turned off the engine. “I didn’t bring my umbrella. We’ll have to make a run for it.”
“Who says you’re invited in?” she asked, her face set in defiance.
“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.” He tried to kiss her, but she pushed him away.
“I’m serious, Bennett. This relationship is not working for me. Georgia’s never going to speak to me again because of you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course she will once she calms down.”
“That’s not the issue anyway. The issue is you and your crass attitude about everything. You can’t just say whatever pops into your mind. You hurt people’s feelings and ruin relationships. I’m sorry, Bennett, but I can’t see you anymore.” Slipping off her sandals and stuffing them into her bag, she opened the car door and sprinted up the flooded sidewalk to the house.
She went straight upstairs to her room, where she towel-dried her hair and put on her flannel pajamas. Ignoring the pounding on her front door, she crawled under the comforter and read the first three chapters in Dot Frank’s new summer release. When she went down to the kitchen for a cup of chamomile tea a few minutes before ten, she was surprised to see Bennett’s car still parked on the street. She opened her front door and found him curled up in a ball, sound asleep, on her stoop.
She knelt down beside him and shook him awake. “Bennett, get up.”
He cracked an eyelid. “Where am I?”
“On my front stoop. You can’t possibly be comfortable in that position.”
He opened his eyes and rubbed them with his balled fists. “I must have fallen asleep.”
“Well, you can’t sleep here.” Midge tugged on his arm. “Come on, get up. You need to go home.”
“Please, Midge baby. I can’t leave, not until we’ve had a chance to talk. I love you so much. I don’t want our relationship to end like this.”
His sad little-boy face melted some of her anger. “All right. You can come inside, but only for a few minutes. I have to work tomorrow. And somehow figure out a way to get Georgia to forgive me.” He got up and followed her inside to the kitchen. “Would you like some tea?”
“Bourbon, please,” he said, taking a seat at the island.
“I’m not offering bourbon.” She removed a mug from the cabinet. “It’s tea or nothing.”
“Nothing is fine. Thank you.”
She smiled to herself as she set the chamomile K-Cup in her Keurig. He was so incorrigible. She wanted to ring his neck one minute and throw her arms around him the next. When the tea finished brewing, she added a drop of milk and sat down on the barstool opposite him.
“You have every right to be mad at me,” he said. “I was insensitive toward Georgia tonight, and I’m sorry. Did my mom tell you about my impulse disorder?”
She stared at him, her face scrunched up in confusion. “She mentioned something about you having an attention deficit disorder.”
He shrugged. “Same thing. My inability to focus causes me to sometimes act on impulse.”
She stared up at the ceiling as she considered this. She didn’t know much about ADD, but she could see where being unable to focus would make one restless. “I can understand how that might happen.” She took a tentative sip of tea. “Anyway, I’m as much to blame as you for tonight. I admit I mishandled the Georgia situation. Your impulse disorder aside, other things have happened that worry me, and I think we need to talk about them.”
“Please tell me this isn’t about the redhead. Because I told you we’re business a
ssociates.”
She placed her hands on the counter and intertwined her fingers. “Okay then. Tell me the redhead’s name.”
He shook his head. “I can’t do that. Not until the papers are signed.”
She wagged her finger at him. “You can’t do that because you’re afraid I’ll Google her and find out she’s a high-priced call girl.”
“Don’t be absurd. We’re days away from finalizing the details. You’re going to feel like an idiot when I tell you about this deal. I’m a lot of things, Midge, but I’m not a cheater.”
“Are you a thief? You opened my mail and signed into my online bank account.”
Pink spots appeared on his tanned cheeks. “Impulse disorder?” he asked, an eyebrow raised in question.
“Be serious, Bennett.”
He tossed his hands in the air. “Guilty as charged. I don’t know what made me do it, honestly. I was waiting for you and nervous about being late to the Lelands’ party. I picked your mail up off the floor beside the mail slot and absentmindedly shuffled through it. I saw your bank statement and opened it without thinking about what I was doing. It was wrong of me. I make no excuses. But I don’t know where you got the idea that I signed on to your bank account. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Are you sure? Because the Internet was still opened to the Wells Fargo website that night.”
He placed his hand across his chest. “Honest to God, Midge. I bank at Wells Fargo, too. I was probably checking my balance.”
Studying him closely, she decided he was telling the truth.
“Was it curiosity that made you break into your father-in-law’s safe? What marriage was that, number two?”
He pushed his barstool back from the island. “Hold on a minute. Who told you that?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “Right. Virginia and Sara. I should have known. Those two are always stirring up drama. That’s simply not true. You can ask my mother.”
“Maybe I will. She told me to call her anytime I had concerns.” She jabbed the granite countertop with her finger. “Let’s go back to the night of the Lelands’ party for a minute. I overheard Grace telling her husband that she hadn’t invited you to the party. What was that all about?”
The pink splotches returned to his cheeks. “I may have fudged that invitation. I overheard some of the guys in the locker room at the club talking about the party. They made it sound like everyone in town was invited. I really wanted to see that apartment, and I didn’t think we’d be noticed.” His hand shot up. “Don’t say it. I know. I’m the guy who gives realtors a bad rap. Now that I think about it, that was a pretty lousy move.”
“Yes, it was. And you made me look like a fool.”
Bennett got up and dragged his stool around to her side of the island. He sat down close to her, nudging her and then laying his head on her shoulder. “I never said I was perfect, Midge. I’m far from it, actually. My issues with impulse control are legit. I never intend to do stupid stuff. I get caught up in the moment, and I can’t help myself.” He lifted his head off her shoulder and ran a finger down her cheek. “I love you so much—more than I’ve ever loved any of my other wives.”
She cut her eyes at him. “If that’s supposed to make me feel better, it doesn’t.”
“I’m being serious. I’m crazy about you. You bring out the best in me. You make me want to be a better person. If you’ll give me another chance, I know we can make our relationship work. I’ll even see a therapist about my impulse control. I realize my track record for marriage sucks, but the last thing I want is another divorce. I want us to grow old together. You and me working our boutique agency by day and making love by night.” He stood to go. “Think about what I’ve said. You can talk to me about whatever you want, whenever you want—or anytime you have concerns. I don’t want us to keep secrets from each other.” He kissed the top of her head and let himself out the front door.
Her heart ached to believe him, but her stomach churned sour against it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lizbet
Lizbet felt herself being spread thinner and thinner as the party wore on. In addition to her catering responsibilities, she found herself playing hostess to friends of her parents she hadn’t seen in years. They asked questions about her mother’s health and whereabouts, neither of which she knew how to answer. She wanted to tell them her mother’s heart was sick over the discovery that her oldest child was gay. No doubt they suspected something amiss, with Brooke crying in the far corner of the room and the beautiful girl, whom no one seemed to know, comforting her. Her father did his best to maintain his composure, but his dull eyes and thin smile gave him away.
The crowd had dwindled, and Lizbet was in the kitchen wrapping up leftovers when Heidi approached her. “I spoke with your mother when we first got here, but I haven’t seen her since. I’m worried about her. Has she fallen ill?”
“No, ma’am. She and my sister had an argument before we got here.”
Heidi’s eyes sought out her own daughter, who was gathering dirty plates from around the room. “Oh goodness. I know how that is. Lord knows Annie and I have had our troubles. Should we fix her a plate?”
“That’s not necessary. When Mom gets in one of these moods, it’s best to leave her alone.” She stacked several containers of leftovers and stored them in the refrigerator. “There’s plenty of food in here if she gets hungry later.”
Lizbet made certain her father paid the balance owed to the musicians and tipped the catering crew. Once they all had gone, as her father said good night to the last departing guests, she took a deep breath before approaching her sister, who was still huddled in the same corner with Sawyer.
“I don’t get it, Brooke. You’ve been here since last Wednesday. You had Mom and Dad to yourself all weekend. What made you decide to wait until right before the party to tell them you’re . . .”
Brooke stiffened. “Come on, Lizzy, you can say it. I’m gay.”
She cast her eyes on the young woman standing next to Brooke who could have passed for Georgia’s daughter with her dark, classic good looks. “You must be Sawyer. I’m Brooke’s sister, Lizbet.”
Sawyer held out her hand. “I’m sorry to be meeting you under such stressful circumstances.” Her lips spread into a genuine smile. “Drama has a way of following Brooke around. You no doubt already know this.”
Lizbet sensed Sawyer’s attempt to make light of the situation for everyone’s sake, but she was in no mood for pleasantries. “I take it my sister failed to warn you about her sneak attack.”
Sawyer lifted a bony shoulder. “I understand why she handled it the way she did.”
“Really? Because I don’t.” Lizbet turned back to her sister. “Tell me, Brooke. Why did you decide to ambush us?”
Fresh tears welled up in her sister’s eyes. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
Lizbet crossed her arms. “Try me. We have the same parents. I would be the most likely to understand.”
“They were going to freak out no matter how I told them,” Brooke said. “Mom is so set in her ways with her old-fashioned values. She’s never going to accept that I’m gay.”
“She’ll eventually come around,” Lizbet said. “You can count on Dad to support you. He just needs a little time to adjust.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” Brooke swiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “He can barely bring himself to look at me.” She reached for Sawyer’s hand. “At us.”
Lizbet’s anger toward her sister vanished, and pity took its place. She most definitely would not want to be in Brooke’s shoes. She glanced around for her father and realized they were the only ones left in the room. He’d turned out most of the lights and disappeared into his bedroom without saying good night.
“We’ve all had a long day,” Lizbet said. “Why don’t we grab a couple of beers and go out on the porch?”
“I’m beat,” Sawyer said. “I should probably turn in and give the two of you a chance to ta
lk.”
“Please don’t. I’d like to get to know you.” Crossing the room to the kitchen, Lizbet removed three Corona Lights from the refrigerator and lined them up on the counter. She popped the tops with a bottle opener and held a beer out to Sawyer.
Sawyer appeared uncertain, but when Brooke nodded encouragement, she accepted the beer.
The storm had forced out much of the humidity from earlier in the day, leaving in its wake cooler temperatures and a light breeze. They sat for a while without talking, with their heads resting against the backs of the rockers, sipping their beers and enjoying the crickets and tree frogs singing their songs.
“Everything makes perfect sense to me now,” Lizbet said finally. “I understand why you went to college in California and why you never come home to visit. What I don’t understand is why you picked now to come out of the closet to Mom and Dad.”
“I can’t hide anymore, Lizzy. Sawyer and I are moving to Charleston.” Brooke’s eyes searched for her partner’s. “Although I’m beginning to question the wisdom in that decision.”
Sawyer held Brooke’s gaze. “Since when do you give up at the first sign of trouble?”
“Since I arrived on Wednesday,” Brooke said. “I’d forgotten how difficult my mother can be.”
“Give it some time,” Sawyer said in a soft voice. “Charleston is a big city. We can lose ourselves here as well as we could anywhere else.”
Lizbet held her tongue. While the population of Charleston was more than 125,000, in many ways this city felt like a very small town. “What about your promotion?”
A guilty expression crossed Brooke’s face. “I may have left out an important detail about that. My new job here is the promotion I was referring to.”
“Oh, I see. Is your new job in graphic design?” Lizbeth asked.
Brooke nodded. “With a smaller firm with more potential for growth.”
“What about you?” Lizbet asked Sawyer. “Do you have a job here?”
Brooke answered for her partner. “Sawyer is in medical school. She finished her clinical rotations at Stanford in May and is starting the residency program at MUSC in the fall.”
Sweet Tea Tuesdays Page 12