The Peach Keeper

by Sarah Addison Allen

  Once they were on the road, a long stretch that ran parallel to the highway, Paxton was finally able to sit upright. The wind from the open top of the Jeep made their hair fly, and the only sound was the flapping of their clothing, like sheets on a line. Willa kept checking her rearview mirror, relaxing only when a couple of miles had passed and she realized they weren’t being followed.

  Neither of them said anything for a very long time.

  Finally, Paxton asked, “Do you have any tissues?”

  Willa turned to her. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her nose was running. “I have some paper napkins in the glove compartment.”

  Paxton fumbled around until she found the napkins. “I’m not crying,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  “No, really, I’m not. I got hit by some of the pepper spray.”

  “Oh,” Willa said. “Sorry about that. I thought my aim was better.”

  Paxton snorted, which made Willa smile.

  “Where are we going?” Paxton asked, blowing her nose as they reached the town proper.

  “To your house.”

  That had an immediate reaction. “No, don’t take me home!” Paxton said loudly. “Let me out right now.” She started fumbling with the door handle.

  Willa had to pull over because she was afraid Paxton was going to try to leap out of the Jeep while it was still moving. Now that the adrenaline rush was over, she could finally see what a problem she had. She had drunk Paxton Osgood in her car, and she had absolutely no idea what to do with her. “Where do you want me to take you, then?” she asked. They were in front of a Tudor-style house in Paxton’s neighborhood. A dog barked from somewhere inside. “Kirsty Lemon’s?”

  Paxton leaned her head back against the seat. “God, no. She’d love this.”

  “I thought you two were friends.”

  “Whatever that means,” Paxton said, which surprised Willa. Society ladies always seemed so hand-in-glove, giving looks to one another that only they could interpret, sharing secrets.

  “Sebastian’s?”

  Paxton seemed to think about that. She finally said softly, “No.”

  That left only one place. Great. Willa put the Jeep in gear and made a U-turn. “What were you doing at the Gas Me Up at this hour, anyway?” she said as she drove.

  “It was the only place I could get alcohol at this time of night and no one would see me,” Paxton said as she rubbed her eyes. “God, that spray was strong, and I only got a little bit of it. I hope they feel it for days.”

  “No one in their right mind goes there after dark, not even college kids.”

  “Well, I didn’t know that,” Paxton said defensively. “It’s the first time I’ve been there.”

  “Why tonight?”

  “Because my life is crap and I needed alcohol.”

  Paxton Osgood’s life was crap. Right. “You didn’t have any alcohol in your house?”

  “I drank it all,” she said.

  “In a house the size of Hickory Cottage?”

  “I drank all the liquor in my house. The pool house. And there was no way I could go to my parents’ house for more. My mother would’ve given me hell. She always gives me hell. You know who else gives me hell? The Women’s Society Club. One skeleton found at the Madam, and suddenly they think the whole project is a wash. As if they don’t have tons of skeletons in their closets. If you only knew.” Paxton turned in her seat and Willa could feel her staring at her. “And you gave me hell, too. In high school.”

  “Only once,” Willa pointed out.

  “I can’t believe it was you who wrote that note to Robbie Roberts.”

  “I’m sorry.” Willa pulled to the curb and cut the engine. “I really am.”

  “I remember when I saw that note. You copied my handwriting so well I thought at first I had written it. You could’ve gone into forgery.”

  Willa climbed out and said, “Yes, that would have made my dad very proud.”

  Paxton looked around, finally realizing they’d come to a stop. “Where are we?”

  “This is my house. Come on.”

  “You’re going to let me stay at your house?”

  “The Ritz is too far to drive to.”

  Paxton wasn’t steady on her feet, so Willa held her elbow and led her up the steps. She unlocked the door and led Paxton to the couch, then left the room and returned with a pillow and a blanket.

  Paxton took off her shoes and propped the pillow up on the couch. “This is a great couch.”

  “I’m thinking of calling it the Osgood Memorial Couch. Your brother slept on it, too.” Willa left again, this time to the kitchen, where she wet a dishcloth with cold water. She brought it out and handed it to Paxton.

  “My brother likes you, you know,” Paxton said, lying back and putting the cool cloth over her swollen eyes. “Make him stay.”

  Willa flipped out the blanket and covered Paxton. “I’m not involved with your brother.”

  “You will be. You know why? Because that’s what’s supposed to happen. That’s the fairy tale. You meet, you fall in love, you kiss, and neither of you is revolted by it. You get married and have kids and live happily ever after.”

  “The not-being-revolted part is a nice touch,” Willa said.

  “It comes from experience. I’m in love with Sebastian Rogers. But he’s not in love with me.”

  Willa probably should have been surprised, but she wasn’t. She locked the door and turned out the light. When things went dark, she stood there for a moment. “Your life isn’t nearly as glamorous as I thought it was,” she said into the darkness.

  “What tipped you off? The drunk run to the Gas Me Up, or admitting that I’m in love with a man who might be gay?”

  Despite her tone, Willa got the feeling this was more serious than Paxton was letting on. “It’s a tie,” Willa said, which made Paxton laugh a little. She was too used to people judging her, Willa realized.

  Then something Willa never thought would happen suddenly did.

  She actually felt sorry for Paxton Osgood.

  This was enough revelation for one night. Exhausted, Willa left the living room and headed upstairs to her bedroom.

  “Thank you, Willa,” Paxton called after her.

  “You’re welcome, Paxton.”

  SEVEN

  Relativity

  Paxton slowly opened her eyes, which took effort. Her lashes seemed to be glued together.

  She sat up on her elbows, a small movement that actually felt like being slammed against a wall. She groaned but powered through it and sat all the way up.

  She looked around. She was in a small house filled with dated furniture, except for the insanely soft gray couch she was lying on. She was facing a picture window, and there was a black-and-yellow bird sitting on the sill, staring inside. She stared back at it, confused and strangely mesmerized. A shrill ringing sound suddenly made her jump and, startled by her movements, the bird flew off.

  She put her hands to her head. Good God, what was that noise?

  She heard footsteps and turned to see Willa Jackson stumble into the room wearing cotton shorts and a tank top, both twisted from sleep. Her short hair was poofy, like a cloud around her face.

  Paxton had often thought that all Willa needed was a white muslin nightgown, a big bow in her hair, and a porcelain doll clutched to her chest, and she would look exactly like one of those pale-eyed, intense children in very old photos. Paxton had never felt very comfortable around her.

  “I thought I turned off your phone last night when it wouldn’t stop ringing. Is it possessed?” Willa said, lunging for Paxton’s cellphone, which Paxton just now realized was on the end table beside her.

  Willa flipped open the phone and said, “Hello?” She paused. “I’m Willa. Who are you?” Willa’s hand, which had been over her eyes as if to block out the light from the window, suddenly dropped. “Oh.” She handed the phone to Paxton. “It’s for you.”

  Paxton took it, trying not to
make any sudden movements for fear her head might fall off. “Of course it’s for me. It’s my phone.”

  Willa frowned and turned and left the room. Someone wasn’t a morning person.

  “Hello?” Paxton said into the phone.

  “I’m in the pool house, and you’re not. Where are you?” It was Colin.

  She looked around. “I’m not sure. I think I’m at Willa Jackson’s house.”

  “That would explain her answering your phone. What are you doing there?” Colin asked.

  It was all coming back to her. And she wasn’t about to share it with him, with anyone. God, if it got out what a fool she’d made of herself …

  “Have you been there all night?”

  “I think so,” she said.

  Colin paused, and she could tell what conclusions he was coming to. “Are you drunk? There’s an empty whiskey bottle in your living room.”

  “No, not anymore. And get out of my house.”

  He laughed. “What happened?”

  “Like I’m going to tell you.”

  “You know I’m going to find out sooner or later.”

  “Over my dead body,” she snarled.

  “Okay, all right. Listen, the reason I called is because I don’t seem to have much authority when it comes to the Blue Ridge Madam. People want to talk to you, not me. Meet me at the police station. I need some answers about clearing the scene in order to move that tree, and I need them now.”

  “Right,” she said, trying to rally. “Give me an hour.”

  She hung up, then sat there, her head cradled in her hands. Even her hair hurt. She didn’t know how much time had passed before Willa came back and said, “Are you all right?”

  She looked up at her. She was holding a cup of coffee and a bottle of Advil. She handed both to Paxton. “You saved me last night,” Paxton said. She’d never forget the glare of the lights of the Jeep as it came to a stop, then the sight of Willa getting out and coming to her rescue. She’d never been so glad to see anyone in her entire life.

  Willa shrugged. “You were out of your element.”

  “I can’t believe you did that for me. Why?”

  Willa looked like she thought it was an odd question. “When someone needs help, you help. Right? I thought that was a tenet of the Women’s Society Club … your ‘sparkling good deeds,’ ” she said, quoting what Paxton had put on the invitations to the gala.

  Paxton wasn’t sure what bothered her most, that Willa saw her as a charity case or that she could never imagine any of her friends in the club coming to her rescue like that. The Women’s Society Club was about helping people in the most distant way possible, about giving money and then dressing up and celebrating it. The Osgood family charity trust that Paxton ran did real work, and didn’t ask to be congratulated. So why on earth did she still continue with the club? History, she supposed. Legacy. That was important to her.

  She swallowed a few tablets with the strong coffee, then set the coffee and bottle of Advil on the coffee table in front of her and felt the contents churn in her stomach. “Thank you. For everything. I’ve got to go. Where is my tote bag?” She suddenly panicked. “Where is my car?”

  There was a knock at the door. “I don’t know where your tote bag is, but your car is still at the Gas Me Up. Don’t worry, I’ve taken care of it,” Willa said as she went to the door and opened it.

  It was, of all people, Sebastian. He took one look at Willa in her little sleep outfit and said, “My God, there’s a woman under those jeans and T-shirts, after all.”

  Willa rolled her eyes but smiled.

  The morning light was hitting his pale hair, making him seem angelic. He should have been a welcome sight, but he was the last person she wanted to see right now. Paxton stood to turn away but immediately regretted the move. Her head felt full and tight, which made her slightly nauseated. “What is he doing here?” she asked Willa.

  Willa closed the door behind Sebastian, and the light left him, making him human again. “He kept calling your cellphone last night. I had to get up and answer it. He was worried about you. I told him you were fine and sleeping over here.”

  Sebastian walked up to Paxton and pushed some of her loose hair out of her eyes. He managed to bring everything that had happened between them last night back to her with just one look. All she wanted. All he couldn’t give. “She forgot to mention that, at some point, a substantial amount of alcohol was obviously involved,” he said. “Darling, if your eyes were any more red, you’d have X-ray vision.”

  Paxton stepped back, avoiding his eyes now. “I’m fine. It’s just the pepper spray.”

  “The what?”

  Paxton looked to Willa, who shook her head. She hadn’t told him. “Nothing.”

  Sebastian gave her an assessing look. “I told Willa I’d come get you and take you to your car this morning, but I’m not sure you’re able to drive.”

  “Of course I am,” she said. “I’m fine, really. Don’t worry about me. I just need to use the bathroom first.”

  “It’s through the kitchen, at the back of the house.” Willa pointed, and Paxton gratefully stumbled in that direction. She walked through the pretty yellow kitchen and found the half-bath. She closed the door and put her hands on the sink, taking deep breaths so she wouldn’t get sick. She couldn’t believe Sebastian saw her like this, pitiful and hungover, obviously drowning herself in her sorrows, as if she couldn’t handle her stresses any better, as if she couldn’t handle his rejection.

  Why had Willa let him come over? She remembered telling Willa that she was in love with him, the one thing she’d sworn she’d never say out loud. She should have known. Secrets always find a way out.

  She splashed her face with cold water and managed to scrub the mascara from around her eyes. She’d put mascara on? She looked down at herself. And a red dress and heels. All this to go to a convenience store for wine. What had she been thinking? That was the point, she guessed. She hadn’t been thinking. She pinned her hair back and sighed. It wasn’t much help. She decided to get this over with, and walked back to the living room.

  Sebastian and Willa were talking easily. They both went quiet when she entered the room, the proverbial pink elephant.

  Sebastian turned. “Shall we?”

  “Yes, I know you want to get to that free clinic you have this weekend,” Paxton said as she walked to the door. “Thanks again, Willa.”

  “Sure,” Willa said. “Anytime.”

  Once they were outside, Sebastian opened the door to his Audi, and Paxton slid in. He got behind the wheel and pulled out of the neighborhood in silence.

  “Do you want to talk about what happened last night?” he finally asked.

  “No.”

  “I know you don’t want to talk about what happened between us,” he said quietly. “I was referring to what happened with you and Willa.”

  “It’s just between us girls,” Paxton said, staring out the side window. She smiled weakly. “Well, I guess you are one of the girls.”

  “I’m not a girl, Paxton,” he said, and the coolness in his voice made her turn to him.

  “I didn’t mean to imply you were. Not literally. I just meant—”

  “Where is your car?” he interrupted her by asking.

  “The Gas Me Up on State Boulevard.”

  “What is it doing there? Did it break down?”

  “No.”

  “Then what were you doing there?”

  She turned back to the window. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Sebastian pulled into the lot of the Gas Me Up, and the place was busy with early-morning commuters making pit stops. He parked beside her BMW, which was, mercifully, intact. She’d had no idea how she was going to explain it to Sebastian or her family if those cretins had trashed her car in revenge.

  “You don’t happen to have any Visine on you, do you?” she asked. “My mother is going to hate seeing me like this.”

  “I have some at home,” he said. “Do you wa
nt me to take you there?”

  “No thanks.” She was thirty years old. She shouldn’t have to sneak back home after a night out. “This would be a lot easier if I didn’t have to go home and change.”

  “Bring some clothes to keep in my house. If you need them, they’ll be there.” She turned to him, surprised by the intimacy of the offer, especially after last night. “Why didn’t you call me, Pax?” he asked, and she realized, incredibly, that he was hurt. “If you didn’t want to go home, you could have stayed with me.”

  “Willa offered to drop me off at your house, but I told her not to,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I was drunk. And we both know that me out of control isn’t a pretty sight.”

  “I always think you’re beautiful.”

  She couldn’t handle this. Not now. She opened the door. “I’ll see you soon. Thank you for the ride.”

  He reached out and took her hand, not letting her get out. “I want to help you, Pax.”

  “I know you do. That’s why I’m not asking again.”

  When Paxton got back to Hickory Cottage, she grabbed her tote bag, which she had obviously left in her car and had been so relieved to find, and entered the house as quietly as possible. Her mother was a late sleeper, her father an early riser in golfing weather. There was a good chance she could just slip through and not be seen.

  Once Paxton got to the kitchen, she thought she was home free. She smiled at Nola, a square older woman with red hair fading to gray, and so many freckles that she looked like she’d been splattered with a paintbrush. She was kneading dough on the kitchen island. Plumes of flour were floating around her, making her look like she was in a snow globe.

  Paxton’s smile slowly faded when she realized there was someone else in the kitchen.

  “Mama!” Paxton said. “What are you doing up this early?”

  Sophia was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea in front of her. She was in her long white eyelet nightgown and robe, her hair pushed back with a wide headband. She slept in her diamond stud earrings every night. Even if she hadn’t worn them that day, she actually put them on to go to bed.