SING ME HOME (Love Finds A Home - Book One)

by Jerri Corgiat

  Zinnia’s face softened. “I know you’re having a rough time of it, honeybunch.” Lil knew she wasn’t talking finances. Alcea looked away.

  “Really, Alcea, it’s okay. What’s happened isn’t Stan’s fault, and I know he’s doing what he can.” Patsy Lee reached across the table and squeezed Alcea’s hand. Lil moved restlessly. Sometimes Patsy Lee was too much like Melanie in Gone With the Wind. “When the building sells, I’ll be able to pay off the bank loan and part of the second mortgage. In the meantime, well, I’ve—I’ve—” She faltered, then steeled her shoulders. Her next words came in a rush. “I’ve applied for the night shift at PicNic; I think I can get on since I worked there before, and I’m changing my hours to part-time at the bank. With food stamps, that’ll be enough to get by.” She looked from Pop to Zinnia and back. “That is, if you’re willing to keep the children overnight during the week?”

  “No.” Zinnia slapped a hand on the table. The pitcher jumped, Lil and Alcea jumped, and Patsy Lee’s mouth dropped open. Pop tried to hide a smile. “Real estate moves about as fast as a tortoise in Cordelia, so, much as you might want to, you won’t be selling that building anytime soon. I’d have you move in with us—heaven knows we’ve got plenty of room in that old house—but your farmhouse wouldn’t sell none faster either, big, old, rambling money pit—that’s what I told Henry when he bought the thing. And there’s still a matter of those two mortgages. Whatever you’d get wouldn’t cover both. Besides, we’d be short a room with the baby, since Lil will be using her old one.”

  Now Lil’s mouth dropped open. She would?

  “Then I—” Patsy Lee started.

  “Then you’ll just listen to me for a moment longer because there’s no way I’m letting my grandbabies’ mama work her fingers to the bone. Not good for you and not good for the baby. And on food stamps? Not while I draw breath. Lord love you, honeybunch, your sweet spirit would wither away under the burden of it all. No, no, there’s a better way.” Her fierce expression wavered. She reached over and clasped her husband’s hand. “Pop and I—we’ve talked. I’ve decided—we’ve decided—to sell this place.”

  Pop squeezed Zinnia’s hand. They suddenly looked old.

  Patsy Lee, Lil and Alcea all sat stunned. Sell the Lake Kesibwi cabin? All three found their voices at once and there was a chorus of objections, Patsy Lee’s the firmest.

  When the noise died, Zinnia said, “It’ll fetch a whopping amount of money, and you three know it. It’s the only way, and really, we won’t miss it all that much—why, we’re hardly ever here anymore.” What she meant was their family was rarely there anymore. Pop and Mother spent most of their weekends here. They’d planned to retire here, too, once their “grandbabies” had grown up. The bravado in Zinnia’s voice didn’t reach her eyes. She blinked rapidly behind her glasses.

  Lil tried to think of another alternative but couldn’t.

  Nobody else appeared to have anything else to offer, either. Zinnia looked at each of them, then sighed. “No more long faces. We’re blessed to have this place to sell, after all’s said and done. Like I always say, when God hands you a lemon, you make lemonade.”

  The O’Malley’s should have drowned in the stuff by now.

  “Now, that’s settled. As for Lil—”

  Lil cleared her throat. “I’m not moving in with you. I—I appreciate your offer, but I’ll think of something else.”

  Zinnia snorted. “Like PicNic? It seems everybody’s stuck on that place all of a sudden. Honeybunch, I understand how you feel about that house of yours, but it’s not worth hanging onto if it means doing that back-breaking labor. There is a market for small places not far from town. We’ll put it up for sale, you’ll move in with us and continue giving piano lessons. This darned arthritis keeps me from sewing much anymore, but people still ask. I’m turning down paying business right and left. You can do that, too.”

  With a gigantic effort, Lil kept her face impassive. The picture her mother painted was tempting. She could move back into her room, let the days slide by and not worry about anything beyond where to place the next stitch. But she couldn’t do it. Not if it meant giving up her yellow house. “I’m sor—”

  Mari banged through the door. Lil breathed a sigh of relief at the interruption.

  “Where have you been?” Zinnia demanded.

  Mari didn’t seem to hear. She floated to the table, straddled a chair and smiled dopily at nobody in particular.

  “I take it you met Jonathan Van Castle?” Lil asked.

  “Met him? I spent the day with him. With him and Zeke Townley and Three-Ring and Jon’s children…”

  Zinnia stared at her. “Aren’t we pleased you’ve had a humdinger of a good time while we’ve been trying to figure out how best to care for Patsy Lee and your sister.”

  “That’s nice,” Mari said.

  Zinnia frowned. “Don’t give me any lip. While you were out with your friends we’ve decided we have to sell this cabin. What do you have to say to that?”

  “That’s nice.” Mari wore the same enraptured look Moses must have had when God handed him the tablets.

  “Nice? You think that’s n—”

  “I’m going to marry him.” Mari swept the frozen table at large with a dazzling, ear-to-ear smile. Even Pop’s mouth dropped open. “He proposed and I said yes.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ZINNIA THUNKED the plate down. “You’re going to what?”

  “Marry Jonathan Van Castle.”

  “That boy you used to chase home in third grade? Why, he’s—”

  Pop cleared his throat. “Dear, I believe that was John Vandahlenberg.”

  “It was.” Alcea’s mask had slipped. She stared at her sister with an emotion akin to awe. “Jonathan Van Castle’s a country singer. How’d you manage to land him?”

  “She didn’t land anything.. He stopped at the store yesterday,” Lil said. “I asked Mari to deliver a book to him and that’s when—”

  An equally round-eyed Patsy Lee interjected, “Not a singer. A star. A superstar!”

  Lil did an inner eye roll and said, “And somebody she just met six hours ago.”

  “And you think you’re going to marry him? Why if that isn’t the craziest… Marigold O’Malley, you’ve done some pretty foolish things in your life, but—” Zinnia sputtered.

  Alcea’s frown had deepened as Lil had explained. “This is absolute nonsense,” Alcea said. “You can’t marry someone like him.”

  “What do you mean, like him?” Mari said, eyes narrowed.

  “I’ve read all about him in the National Tattler.”

  Five surprised pairs of eyes looked at Alcea. All she displayed on her coffee table was House Beautiful and Vogue. Alcea flushed. “It, uh, has some good recipes. Anyway, Mr. Van Castle is hardly a paragon of virtue. There was a huge scandal when he divorced his wife. Apparently he’d hooked her on drugs, then kept her dependent on him so she wouldn’t reveal what went on in their home.”

  “And what was that?” Patsy Lee breathed.

  “Orgies. He had orgies. Three-ways, five-ways, every which ways.” Alcea lowered her voice. “Some say he was involved once with a teenager. Can you believe it?”

  Lil could. She already knew he was a deadbeat dad.

  “That’s not true. None of it’s true!” Mari burst out. “I asked him and he told me.”

  “Well there it is then,” Zinnia said with exasperation. “Nothing to worry about.”

  Mari flashed her a hot look. “That teenager was some groupie that hung around his ex-wife. He didn’t even know her. He said that’s only what she said, his ex-wife. What really happened was his ex got hooked on cocaine and their marriage was rocky and he didn’t want to hurt her or his children anymore so he—”

  “It doesn’t matter what went on.” Zinnia glared back. “This whole notion is just plain silly. You aren’t marrying the man. Lord-love-a-duck, you just met him, so of course you aren’t.” She peered closer. “You haven’t be
en drinking, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t been drinking! And you can’t tell me what to do. I’m twenty-one and I can do whatever I want to.”

  The argument raged for the next hour, a good six-O on the Richter scale of O’Malley disputes. Her parents, sister and Patsy Lee reasoned and railed until they were as winded as Paddy O’Neill after swapping scandal at Peg O’ My Heart Cafe, but they didn’t budge Mari. Only Lil sat silent. Part of her admired her little sister for taking a stand. The rest of her knew badgering Mari would only make her more stubborn.

  Mari stood up. “There’s nothing you can say that’s going to make me change my mind. You can’t live my life,” she said to Zinnia, the same argument she’d been using since she was two. “And, you—” She sneered at her oldest sister. “You’re just jealous because I’ll have more money than you do.”

  “That’s a lie!” Alcea stood up, too.

  “Now, now—” Pop made a placating gesture.

  Mari ignored him. “Only Lil understands, don’t you, Lil?”

  Lil opened her mouth, intending to tell her little sister that while she might understand, she certainly didn’t condone her plans, but Mari continued before she could reply. “The limo is picking me up in a half an hour. If you’ll excuse me, I have a date and I need to get ready.” Nose in the air, Mari stomped to the doorway that led to the sleeping porch. “And tomorrow, Jon’s yacht will pick me up for a day trip out on the lake.”

  “Good.” Zinnia talked to her back. “Because I have a few things I want to say to Mr. Jonathan Van Castle.”

  Mari stopped in mid-stomp and twirled around. “Oh, no, you don’t! I’m not going to have a swarm of goddamned—I mean, gosh-darned, sorry, Mother—spoilsport busy bodies ruining my life. If any of you so much as says ‘boo’ to Jon, I’ll—I’ll leave tomorrow and you’ll never see me again.” She pivoted and ran down the stairs.

  Zinnia looked around. “Well, if this isn’t a kick in the head.”

  Alcea had sunk back in her chair. Now she looked across the table at Lil. “You have to do something.”

  Lil stared at her. “Me?”

  “Yes, you. You’re the one who sent her off, knowing she’s ga-ga over him. And you’re the only one of us who’s met him before. So you’re the one who has to talk to him.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I only saw him in the store for a few minutes; it’s isn’t as though we established a relationship.”

  Alcea and Lil bickered for the next fifteen minutes and would have continued for another fifteen, if Pop hadn’t raised a hand. “Alcea has a point.”

  “What?” Lil frowned at him.

  “You’re the only one who’s met him, and you’re the only one of us Mari isn’t mad at. You need to go with her and find out what’s really going on here.”

  “I agree,” Zinnia inserted. “Something’s not right. Why would a man like that just up and propose to our Mari?”

  “Besides,” Alcea said. “You’re the only one Mari listens to.”

  “I can’t see why he’d tell me,” Lil said, although Alcea did have a point. Lil was the only one of the family Mari might heed, emphasis on the might.

  Thinking of Jonathan Van Castle’s heart-tugging smile, Lil wondered for an instant if she’d behave any differently if she were in Mari’s shoes. Of course, she would. And, once a little time had passed, Mari would abandon whatever scheme Jonathan Van Castle had up his sleeve. Her sister might be impulsive and flighty but she wasn’t stupid.

  She stood to clear the pitcher and cookie platter. “It doesn’t matter what we decide. She won’t take me with her. Mari has already said if any one of us—”

  “So it’s decided,” Zinnia said. “You’ll go.”

  “I didn’t say I’d—”

  “Shhh.” Patsy Lee touched her arm. “She’s coming!”

  Lil sighed. She put the platter on the counter and heard Mari enter the room behind her.

  Zinnia started in, her voice half sugar, half steel. “If you’re so set on this, then—”

  Lil turned, intending to set things straight but instead her mouth just fell open.

  Gone were Mari’s T-shirt and sandals. What was left was a vision of young womanhood. Mari had donned an ebony, over-the-hips, satin blouse that emphasized her breasts, slim fitness, and porcelain skin and a short—a very short—skirt. Dark hose outlined her shapely legs; one ankle was wrapped with a delicate chain and the legs ended in a pair of take-me-I’m-yours, spiked, black high heels. Everything matched. Her head was still topped by her usual riot of peach curls, but she’d smoothed the sides up and back—with gel? Mari never used gel—and secured them with silver-filigreed combs. The set of long, sterling earrings her parents had given her for graduation dangled from her ears. And, worst of all, Lil spotted black eyeliner, a coat of mascara and a dusting of powder that dulled Mari’s freckles.

  Lil’s eyes narrowed. While she didn’t think even Mari had hoped for the offer she’d received, it was obvious her little sister had planned ahead for a possible tryst. She looked beautiful and sophisticated and stunning…and vulnerable and achingly young. Alarm bells clanged in Lil’s brain. She was twenty-one. But only twenty-one. Jonathan Van Castle would eat her for lunch.

  Mari frowned at her. “What?”

  “Uh, nothing.”

  Zinnia met her youngest daughter’s gaze. “Now, as I was saying. I don’t want this cockamamie plan of yours to cause a big to-do. If you’re so set on this outlandish idea, why, we’ll just have to meet him.”

  Her mother wasn’t the type who put much stock in how famous or rich a person was. She prided herself as a fierce judge of character, and her children had long grown resigned at her scrutiny of any potential suitor who crossed their paths.

  Still, Mari opened her mouth, but Zinnia stopped her with a raised hand. “I know the whole bunch of us at once can be a lot to take in, so I can understand why you don’t want us swarming all over him tomorrow. Now Lil…Lil’s already met him, so why don’t you just take her along—and maybe Daisy if Patsy Lee says that’s okay. Didn’t you say he’s got a daughter about Daisy’s age?”

  Lil wondered why Daisy, then decided it was just Zinnia’s way of conducting covert operations. Extinguish any scent of possible suspicion Mari might cast on her request.

  Mari’s face lit up at her mother’s reasonable tone. “Cool! I’ll ask, but I’m sure he’ll think it’s okay, he’s so nice. Lil, you’re just going to love him.”

  Lil somehow doubted it, but taking another long look at Mari’s attire, she only nodded.

  That night, up in her bedroom, as crickets chirruped through the window she’d opened in a vain attempt to catch a breeze, Lil carefully rehearsed the speech she’d use on Mr. Van Castle. She had to revise it several times, feeling the words “cad” and “libertine” and “perverted,” wouldn’t bend him to her cause.

  As she reached to turn off the light, she paused and stroked a finger over the photograph of Robbie she kept at her bedside. “Wish me luck,” she whispered.

  He smiled back.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE GIBSON HOUSEBOAT glided into the cove where Mari O’Malley’s family had their cabin. Jon stood at the bow and shaded his eyes. The cove was mirror smooth under a sky still streaked with rose-petal dawn. Unlike the waters surrounding the Royal Sun, this side of the lake was quiet with long expanses of wooded shoreline. The high-powered crafts towing early-morning skiers across Shawnee Bay lay far behind, replaced by flat-bottomed boats with trolling motors. More than one fisherman had frowned at the rumble of the three-hundred-horsepower engines.

  At the shoreline, Mari waved him in with a pinwheel of arms. She danced from one bare foot to the other, wearing nothing more than three scraps of turquoise that passed for a swimsuit. She looked like a nymph.

  And last night she’d come on like a siren. He frowned. Evidence this wouldn’t work. After dropping her off last night, he’d fallen into bed, exhausted by his efforts to fend her off. Th
is morning he’d woke to regret yesterday’s work. It hadn’t taken Zeke’s harangue—“Have you lost your friggin’ mind, my man?” was the paramount theme—to convince him he’d made a mistake. And now he had to undo it. But first he’d let her enjoy the day. Payment for her time, so to speak, a story she could tell her grandkids.

  Captain Sam, the fellow that came with the rental, piloted the craft alongside a weathered, two-hole dock. Mari leaped down a ramp from the shore. The dock held a battered bass boat, and a 1960-something Mark Twain runabout with tattered vinyl cushions. Captain Sam scrambled down from the helm to tie up. Jon tossed the end of another line at Mari.

  She caught it and flashed him a smile. “I thought you’d never get here!”

  He jumped down beside her. The dock pitched beneath his weight. “Good morning.”

  Mari almost quivered with excitement. He averted his eyes from the flesh jouncing above the half moons of her top.

  “You bet it is!” She leaned in close, and he realized her intention. He averted his face so her kiss landed on his cheek.

  She didn’t seem to notice. “Where is everyone?”

  “Tina and the kids are down below changing into swimsuits.”

  She waved a hand. “I meant your band!”

  “In the kitchen,” he said. Captain Sam frowned. “I mean, galley. Fixing Bloody Marys.”

  Three-Ring, Zeke, Peter, and Lydia were shaking the day’s party into gear with a blender. Fleetingly, he wished he’d left the kids behind, but he hadn’t realized until they were underway how much booze Three-Ring had hauled on board—along with a keg of beer and a couple of babes who packed more jiggle than IQ.

  Mari’s gaze scoured the houseboat. “Awesome!” He didn’t know if she meant the boat or the Bloody Marys or the band.

  Captain Sam assumed she meant the boat. He tugged on his yacht cap. “One thousand square feet, ma’am. Three decks including the sun deck aft, plus the helm.”