by Anita Higman
“Sounds like good advice.”
When Perry reached the porch he pulled Mason into a hug. “Hey, man, how ya doing?”
Mason groaned a little as he gave his friend a few slaps on the back.
“You in some kind of doghouse too?” Perry pulled back and looked at Mason.
“Not exactly. Come on in. We can watch TV with the sound off and talk awhile.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Perry stepped down into the living room, turned on the TV, and searched the channels for a baseball game.
Mason went into the kitchen, gathered up some chips and sodas, and headed back to the living room. “So, what did you say to upset Sheila this time? Or should I ask?” He tossed Perry a Coke.
“Well, as you know, Sheila’s got a talent for decorating, but I think she spends too much money trying to prove it.” Perry popped the top on his Coke. “So, I tell her that maybe we could talk about her purchases first, and she says that mindset stifles her creativity. Since she thinks that whatever I have to say will sound too negative.”
“Will it?”
“Well, yeah.” Perry took a sip of his soda. “Like for instance, she’ll say we need new drapes to match the new couch, and I’ll say what’s wrong with the old drapes. And what was wrong with the old couch? Oh, and sometimes Sheila starts spewing decorator lingo about accents she needs to buy.” He reached for the bowl of chips. “She’ll use words like sconces and finials. I have no idea what either one of those things are.”
“Well, I think sconces are those brackets on the wall that hold candles, and finials, well...” Mason pointed to a lamp. “See that ornamental thing on top? That’s a finial.”
Perry narrowed his eyes at Mason. “Now, how could you possibly know that stuff?”
Mason shrugged, dragged the bowl of chips back to his side of the coffee table, and took a handful.
“Anyway, after that the argument always starts sounding the same. Sheila says men are clueless, and I say it’s hard not to be clueless when you’re dealing with the fickle brain of a woman.”
“Oww.” Mason winced. “You said that?”
“I was pretty heated. So, I figured I’d better come over here and get myself calmed down.” Perry hooked his finger on the edge of the bowl of chips and pulled it back his way.
Mason looked at his friend. “Well, I know you two love each other.”
“Got that right. She’s the love of my life.” Perry horsed down a few chips. “So, how was the wedding? You don’t look so good, old buddy.”
Mason set his Coke down on the coffee table. The downside to giving Perry an update about Trudie was that he would probably admonish him for doing everything wrong, but the upside was that he might have some helpful tips. “To be honest, I’m not sure what happened at the wedding.”
“So, this must be about that new woman you like. Trudie. So, what’s the problem?”
“Well, let’s put it this way...she’s declined another opportunity to go out with me.” Mason gave Perry a dry smile.
“Hmm. And you both had that lodestone, magnetic field thing going, right?”
“Something like that.” Mason leaned back on the couch. “I just can’t figure it out. It was going so well, and then something or somebody changed her mind. She’s really close to her sister, Lane, so I thought maybe she’d said something—”
“So, you think Trudie’s sister could have told her not to go out with you again. Now why would she do that?” Perry leaned forward, weaving his fingers together.
“I don’t know. But she has been acting different lately.”
“Yeah?”
“Uh-huh. Lane’s been acting...friendlier.” Mason let a few of the recent scenes with Lane play through his head. “Real friendly, come to think of it.” He rubbed his chin, realizing he’d been a fool not to notice what was going on. “Maybe men really are clueless.”
Perry looked at him. “How do you mean?”
“That’s it. Lane changed her mind. She wants to go out now, and Trudie is getting out of the way for her.”
“You think that’s it?”
Mason nodded. “Yeah. That’s it.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“I have no idea. I mean, I like Lane. She’s nice...beautiful and charming, but she’s...”
“But she’s not the one.” Perry nodded. “I hear ya.”
“It’s a mystery. You just never know who you’re going to hit it off with.” Mason crossed his arms, remembering how warm Trudie felt next to him as they’d danced. Soft as his down comforter. No, softer. “Or who you’ll start caring about.”
Perry shook his head. “The way I see it, you’re really in some pretty bad mess here.”
“Thanks.” Mason grinned.
“Hey, I mean it. If you tell Lane you’re not interested, she’ll be upset. Then Trudie might not want to go out with you. Then again, Trudie might go out with you anyway, but you’ll be breaking that sacred bond between the sisters. And that’s really not good. Especially if you end up wanting to marry Trudie someday. You gotta keep that sisterhood thing going.”
Mason pulled back, staring at this friend. “Sounds sort of reasonable.”
“It’s the truth, I’m telling you.” Perry cocked his head. “Like for instance, Sheila has a sister, and I’ve learned never to say anything bad about her. Ever. Even if Sheila says bad stuff about her sister. Doesn’t matter. If I say something bad, I’d be the one breaking that bond. Not fair, but these are the rules, man. I don’t know who made them, but I can tell you, I think they’ve been written in stone tablets somewhere and have been passed down since the Pharaohs.” He rolled his eyes. “So, now what are you gonna do?”
“I think the only way not to upset Lane is to let her see that I’m not the right one. Once she realizes that all on her own, she’ll walk away.”
Perry pointed his finger at Mason as he narrowed his eyes. “Smart move, man. If women think that something is their idea, then the whole universe comes back into order. Beauty out of chaos. That’s the way God set it up.”
Mason shook his head at his friend. “You’re full of it.”
“Don’t I know it?” Perry chuckled. “Now can we stop talking and watch some of the game?”
“Sure.” Mason put his feet on the coffee table and turned up the volume on the TV.
An hour later, after watching the last half of a baseball game, Perry decided he’d calmed down enough to apologize to Sheila properly.
Mason walked him to the door.
“Thanks, man.”
“Anytime.”
Perry shook his hand. “Later.”
Mason shut the door and headed toward the master bedroom for the night. He knew Perry’s marital problems were real, but not serious. Their marriage had always been an inspiration to him. Love was worth the effort, Perry had always said. And pursuing Trudie would be worth the effort too, even if it meant holding back—just for a little while.
Mason rounded the corner to the bathroom a little too fast and bumped his head on the edge of one of the French doors. He let out a yelp. After rubbing his throbbing head an idea began to form. Maybe it was time to tell Lane about the family business and his father’s hopes for his future. That news might allow Lane to see another angle on his life, and there was a good chance she wasn’t going to like the view. Come to think of it, Lane had an appointment with him the next morning— something about trying some riskier investments.
Perfect timing.
Chapter Twenty-three
As bits of the previous evening came back to Lane, she squeezed the steering wheel even harder. The wedding had been enjoyable but equally disconcerting. Wiley’s sudden injury had certainly been cause for concern, but over the course of the festivities, she’d sensed some unsettling reactions from Mason. Sometimes she could feel his budding affections toward her, and then in the next breath she noticed glimmers of what looked like attraction toward Trudie. How perplexing.
Lane�
�s fingers began to throb, so she loosened her grip on the wheel. She turned left off Will Clayton Parkway and pulled in front of Wimberley Financial Services. After parking and easing out of her Lexus, she smoothed her melon pink suit and made her entrance into the reception area of Mason’s office suite. Show time.
A young woman greeted her at the front desk—a beautiful woman with incredible bone structure. Hmm. But that dirt-colored dress she had on made her look like a mummy. Ghastly. With some image coaching, though, the woman could be a model. Guess she’d rather work for Mason. She could certainly understand the woman’s reasoning.
“I’m Lily Larson.” The young woman rose from her desk.
“Hi. I’m Lane Abernathy.” She shook the woman’s hand.
“It so good to meet you. Mr. Wimberley said you’d be coming in this morning. Would you like something to drink? Coffee, hot tea, or Pellegrino?”
“Pellegrino would be nice. Thank you.” Lane had just started to sit down when Mason opened the door to his inner office. “Come on in, Lane.”
“Thanks.” She walked up to him expecting a light hug, but he shook her hand instead. That was different.
Lane sat down and studied him a bit. Mason seemed rested and well-groomed as always, but there was something in the way he avoided her eyes that unsettled her. Like a locked door that had always been previously open.
“Are you comfortable?” Mason looked at her then.
Now that you mention it, not really. Lane wondered where he’d hidden the sociable Mason Wimberley she’d always loved. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
Mason sat down at his desk and glanced over several pages of paperwork. “You said you wanted to adjust your portfolio to include more growth stocks, and you wanted to check out some international markets. I have to warn you, though, even though these investments can generate a much higher rate of return, they are far riskier, and they may not perform as you’re hoping.”
Lane tried to take in the new, more serious Mason. She grinned, thinking he was about to burst out laughing, but he didn’t. “Are you all right?”
Mason shrugged. “Yes.”
Where was the small talk? “Did you enjoy the wedding yesterday evening?”
“I did. Kelsey and Jerold couldn’t be happier.” He glanced at his watch. “They should be on their way to Hawaii about now.”
“Ahh, honeymoons.” Lane sighed. “What could be more satisfying?”
“Well, you might find some heavy returns on these growth stocks pretty satisfying.”
She chuckled. “Now you’re just being silly.”
“Ms. Abernathy? Here’s your drink.” Lily handed Lane her sparkling beverage with ice.
“Thank you.”
When Lily had gone, Mason got up and shut the door. “Before we go into the details here, I wanted to tell you something else today.”
Lane leaned forward. “What is it?”
“It’s about my father.”
“I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting him. I hope he’s well.”
“Well, I’m sorry to say that he isn’t well.” Mason didn’t go back to his chair but leaned against his desk.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Lane suddenly realized that even though Mason had talked about his parents a little since she’d known him, he was never very specific about anything. Now she wondered why.
“My father has been suffering from a bad heart for some years.”
“There’s nothing that can be done?” Lane took in a deep breath.
“I’m afraid not. And he has seen some very fine specialists.” Mason laced his fingers together. “But I needed to tell you something else.”
“Yes?”
“Well.” Mason coughed. “I may not always be your financial advisor.”
“Really? Why is that?” She took a sip of her beverage.
“My family owns Wimberley and Sons Funeral Home here in Humble. I’m assuming you’ve seen the sign and you knew they were my parents.”
“Yes, I guess I’ve seen the sign a few times. I probably thought it was an uncle of yours.” Lane wondered where Mason was taking the conversation.
He went back to his chair and sat down. “My brother was to take over the business someday, but he passed away some years ago. My father left the sign as is. He didn’t have the heart to change it. But I’ve been asked numerous times...by my father...to take over his business if, well, if something should happen to him. And I have considered it seriously for some time now. I feel certain I’ll say yes to him soon.”
Lane tried to keep her shoulders from sagging. What unexpected news. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “I’m so sorry. This must be hard on everyone.” She wanted to reach out and hug him, hold him, but he appeared more distant than ever.
Mason gave her a solemn nod. “It isn’t easy.”
“But it would also be a shame to walk away from all that you’ve built. I mean you have a gift for helping people with their money. And you’d lose everything.”
“Yes, I’ve considered all that. But I think it’s the right thing to do. Eventually I’ll have to tell all of my clients, but I thought you should know first.” Mason shuffled some of his papers. “Now, I guess we’d better get on with what you came for.”
But she didn’t really care about growth stocks; she cared about him. Lane had hoped for a moment to tell him about her change of heart. She’d hesitated before, but now she needed to know for sure how he felt. And I’ll never know unless I ask. “Mason, I want to talk to you about something.”
He seemed distracted with a spreadsheet but looked up at her. “Yes?”
Lane searched his eyes and found nothing to persuade her to follow through with her queries, so she let them go. For now. “Never mind. Let me hear what you have to say about those growth stocks.”
Thirty minutes later Lane was back on the road and speeding south on 59 toward her office in Houston. As she thought more about their conversation, she began to understand why Mason had told her about his plans before anyone else. It was obvious. He wanted to see if she could consider a different kind of life.
She glanced at her empty ring finger. If she could marry Mason, she would be willing to accept his career change in a heartbeat. And besides, when it came to funeral directorship, wives weren’t really expected to help out with the business. Were they? Perhaps sometime later she could encourage Mason to let someone else run the day-to-day operation so he could continue with his own profession. He was, after all, too talented to give up his own promising career.
But Mason still needs to know how I feel about him. If she didn’t tell him, they would continue to function in a state of misunderstanding. Lane determined then that she would make herself vulnerable before him as he had done with her. At the very next opportunity, she would not only tell him she’d changed her mind about going out with him, but that she’d grown to love him with her whole heart.
Lane looked at the clock on the dashboard. If she hurried a little faster she might have enough time to drop by the nail salon before her first client appointment.
She opened her cell phone. Maybe she’d give Trudie a quick call to see how Wiley fared at the minor emergency room. Just as she speed-dialed her sister’s home number, she saw flashing red lights in her rearview mirror. No, please, no. Not another speeding ticket.
Chapter Twenty-four
After a long day at Bloomers, Trudie dropped her car keys on the entry table and collapsed on the couch, feeling as animated as a sack of dirt. What a day. The summer sale on padded bras had been hugely successful. In fact, they’d been swamped with female customers, all eager to enhance nature’s endowments, as Rosalie called them.
Trudie rolled her head back and forth on the cushion and rested her arm over her forehead. In the quiet, she could hear the ticking of the wall clock. The seconds always marched on, relentlessly turning into minutes, and those would eventually accumulate into a decade like a pile of rocks. So far she’d been blessed with three piles
of rocks. But with each tick and with each pile, she always sensed the same nagging questions. Was she using her time wisely? Was she becoming who she was meant to be?
The doorbell rang. Having company was the last thing Trudie was in the mood for, but she headed to the door anyway and opened it. “Cyrus. Hi.”
“Hey.” Cyrus shrugged.
“Is your mom working late again?”
“Naw. She lost her job.” He looked at her with his big brown eyes, which were always searching hers.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, me too. So, Mom’s out there looking for another job.” Cyrus kicked at the concrete with his Nikes. “She wanted me to ask if I could stay for a little while till she gets home.”
“Sure.” Trudie opened the door wider. “Come on in.” They did their usual funky handshake as Cyrus lumbered inside.
Trudie noticed his dark skin was glistening with perspiration. “You look like you’ve been running.” She gave him a hug even though he didn’t look like he was in the mood for one. She always enjoyed having Cyrus over but was never quite sure how to talk to a preteen boy.
“Naw.” He looked around her apartment. “I was playing basketball in the courtyard with some of my friends.”
“And are you good at it?”
“Not really.” Cyrus plunked himself down on the couch and looked at her. “You know, I’m old enough that I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I’m sure that’s true.” Trudie sat down next to him. “But it’d be a shame if your mom couldn’t focus on getting a good job because she was too busy worrying about you.”
Cyrus seemed to think that through. “Maybe.” He sniffed the air. “Something smells different in here.”
“Could be my paints.”
“Paints?” Cyrus wiped his forehead on his Houston Rockets T-shirt. “You mean like you’re painting the apartment?”
“No, I mean like an artist’s paints.”
Cyrus lit up. “Really?”