No Secrets in Spandex

by Toni Jones

  Everybody also knew the story of how Carrie Avery had wrapped her Mercedes SUV around a telephone pole — and how Luke’s best friend had been with her. Some claimed the two of them were cheating on Luke. Others said Carrie was just driving Jake Hampton to the airport. Either way, the story would have never made it from Mobile to Merritt if Luke’s father hadn’t been a state senator and Jake hadn’t been a linebacker for the New Orleans Saints.

  “You want an apartment?” She would have figured he’d want a house in the historical district or out by the country club.

  “I want to move. Soon. How many bedrooms does it have?”

  “Three, though one of them barely deserves to be called a room, let alone a bedroom.” She wanted to bite her tongue. This was no way to go about renting an apartment.

  But he didn’t appear to be put off. “That’s what I need. I have to hire a nanny. I’m not looking for a live-in, but she might have to stay over sometimes. Emma goes to school half days. My mother has been picking her up but she’s about to go back to the state capital with my father.”

  “Do you want to see the apartment?” Book club could wait for this.

  Luke looked at his watch. She liked that he wore a watch. These days, most people pulled out their phones to check the time. “I need to get home now but I could come back tomorrow.”

  “Three-thirty would be good for me.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  Without so much as a goodbye or a backward glance, Luke got in his green Porsche and drove away.

  Lanie wondered if she should have the website completely revamped or just update what she had. That kept her from dwelling on what it would be like to have a child underfoot.

  • • •

  Missy Bragg opened the door of her stately federal-style house and air kissed Lanie’s cheek. Missy was tall, blond, and moved like the cheerleader she’d been.

  “Come on in. Tolly’s here. We’re out on the sun porch.” Tolly — short for Townshend — Lee was Lanie’s closest friend.

  “No Lucy?” Lanie handed Missy a candy box and removed her jacket.

  “Not yet.” Missy led her to the sunroom and set the candy box on the coffee table beside a platter of homemade calzones, antipasto, and meatballs.

  “Oh, yum,” Lanie said. “I’m starving.” Though it was a well-kept secret from all but those closest to her, Missy was probably the best cook in Merritt. She didn’t let it get out because she didn’t want to be called on to run every food-related fundraiser in the county.

  “There’s tiramisu for dessert.” Missy opened the box of candy and lifted out an amaretto chocolate star. “And these can be pre-dessert.”

  “Pre-dessert is my favorite course,” Tolly said and drained her wine glass. “Except for pre-drinks and drinks.”

  Lanie moved to the bar, poured herself a glass of wine, and refilled Tolly’s.

  “There’s a marzipan rabbit for Beau under the bottom layer of tissue,” Lanie said, referring to Missy’s three-year-old son.

  Missy lifted out the little yellow confection. “Oh, Lanie, this is beautiful. You’re an artist. Beau will love it. You’re so sweet to him. Harris took him to watch football practice at the high school. Then they’re going to get some dinner with Nathan afterwards.”

  Missy’s husband, Harris, had played quarterback at the University of Alabama before going to law school. Now he and Tolly were in a law practice together. Nathan Scott had been Harris’s teammate and was now head coach at Merritt High School.

  “They’re practicing football on a Tuesday night in March?” Tolly asked disdainfully. For a woman born and raised in the heart of the South Eastern Conference, Tolly didn’t have much tolerance for football.

  “Spring training, Tolly,” Missy said. “You’d never know you were Harris’s cousin.”

  Missy was intent on matchmaking Nathan with Lanie, something that was never going to work out. Lanie hoped this conversation would drift onto something other than her love life.

  No such luck.

  “So, what do you hear from Nathan, Lanie?” Missy asked.

  “I hear he’s in the middle of spring training.”

  “Have you talked to him? How are things going with y’all?” Tolly asked.

  “He came by after practice last night and talked to me while I made toffee. Things are going great with us.” That much was true. After two dates and a few granite-lipped kisses, she and Nathan had admitted there was no spark and agreed to be friends. Now, they’d been seen together enough that everyone in town thought they were romantically involved. Neither of them did anything to correct that opinion. Nathan wanted to be left alone to get his team in shape and Lanie had reasons of her own.

  “So give some details,” Missy said.

  Missy would never talk about her own sex life but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to hear about everyone else’s. Lanie doubted that her friends would be delighted to hear that the sexiest thing about Nathan was his willingness to haul a hundred pound sack of sugar from the storeroom to the kitchen.

  Missy persisted. “Have you seen what he looks like in the morning yet?”

  It was her own damned fault for being in this uncomfortable predicament. It had been easy to join in the sexy girl talk and complain about how there was no one to date in Merritt. After that, it had been nigh on impossible to tell Missy she wasn’t interested in going out with Nathan. Truth was, she’d learned a long time ago that she was not cut out for a relationship. She was simply no good at the one thing that seemed to be so fundamental to every other member of the human race, and other animals too. But her friends didn’t know that and never would. She might never have the things they had and would have, but she could be spared that particular humiliation.

  “I do know what Nathan looks like in the morning,” Lanie said. “We met at Lou Anne’s Diner for breakfast last Saturday morning.”

  “Lanie, I demand — ” Missy began but she was interrupted by the sound of laughter and footsteps coming down the hall.

  “Look who I found on the doorstep.” Harris Bragg entered with Lucy Mead, who danced into the room with Beau in her arms. “Hi, Lanie. Brat.” He ruffled Tolly’s hair.

  Lucy set Beau down and he squealed and ran toward the platters of food.

  “No you don’t.” Tolly caught his hands just short of the platter of meatballs.

  “Want meatball!”

  Tolly lifted him to her lap and reached for a plate and fork. “And you’ll have one. But what do you say we eat in a civilized manner?” She placed a bite in his mouth and dropped a kiss on top of his head. Tolly and Harris were the children of identical twins, and with their silky white-blond hair and gray-blue eyes, they looked more like siblings than cousins. Consequently, Beau looked enough like Tolly to be her child. Mothers and children. They were everywhere. Lanie was drowning in them. She directed her attention back to Missy and Harris.

  “What are you doing back here?” Missy asked her husband. “You know this is girls’ night.”

  “After practice, I stopped and got this for you.” Harris pressed a cup from the Dairy Delish in Missy’s hand. “We’re about to go catch up with Nathan.”

  “Then go. We were about to get something good out of Lanie.”

  “Never let it be said that I impeded the collection of information.” Harris lifted Beau from Tolly’s lap and stepped toward Missy. “Give your mama a kiss.”

  From the bar Lucy said, “Can I pour you a glass of wine, Missy?”

  “I have a chocolate milkshake.” She held up her cup and lifted her face for Harris’s goodbye kiss.

  The kiss was brief, no more than a peck really, but oh, so intimate. When Harris pulled away, he and Missy swapped smiles and she offered him some of her milkshake. He took the straw in his mouth, smiling around it the wh
ole time. Then, in a motion that was so ordinary that most wouldn’t have noticed, Harris placed his hand on Missy’s abdomen. Their expressions changed — not much but just enough.

  Cold washed over Lanie — cold, pure, selfish jealously. Not at her friend’s happiness and certainly not for Harris.

  Through all her false starts, failed dreams, and bad decisions, a child was the one thing Lanie had always wanted. And it couldn’t have been any clearer that Missy was going to have one — another one. Prickling guilt over her jealously set in and turned to blistering shame.

  Lanie was not the only one to read what had passed between the couple.

  “You’re pregnant!” Lucy shouted, slamming the wine bottle down.

  Missy’s and Harris’s astounded faces spun toward Lucy. They’d been so caught up in their moment that they didn’t realize they’d done everything except put up a billboard in town square.

  “No!” Missy said.

  “You can’t know!” Harris said at the same time.

  Missy and Harris locked eyes. “You told!” they accused each other.

  “You did!” Missy pointed her finger at her husband. “I knew you’d tell.”

  “I didn’t! If I was going to tell, it wouldn’t be Lucy.”

  “Why not me?” Lucy demanded. “What wrong with me?”

  “Who would you tell?” Missy put her hands on her hips and leaned toward Harris. “After we decided we’d keep it secret for a while?”

  “Well … ” Harris shifted Beau to sit on his shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe Tolly.”

  Tolly smiled. “It’s not my fault that I know. He’s the one who can’t contain himself.”

  Harris shrugged and tilted his face toward Missy. “She’s right. I couldn’t. I have no self-control.”

  Missy’s frown evaporated. She gave him a melting little smile, burst into tears, and held out her arms to everyone. Harris laughed and stroked his wife’s back but he didn’t try to comfort her. She didn’t need comfort. These were happy tears. Harris looked at Missy like he couldn’t quite believe his luck.

  They all landed in a group hug and no one knew that Lanie’s tears were bittersweet. She had recovered enough to be happy for Missy but the renewed knowledge that no one would ever look at her the way Harris looked at Missy left her with an all too familiar hollow feeling. The knowledge that she could never have a child turned that hollow into a throbbing ache. A little of her had died that day seven years ago when she walked out of that Memphis hospital with news no twenty-year-old woman ought to have to face.

  But no one made a better truffle. Sugar Sugar Magazine said so. That was something. And nothing.

  • • •

  At exactly 3:30 P.M., Judge Luke Avery left his chambers.

  “I’m going out for a while,” Luke said to his secretary. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. At the very least, I’ll be back to pick up my laptop.”

  Olive Watson, who seemed to have no immediate plans to forgive him for not being Coleman Gilliam, nodded and kept typing. If she had her way, they’d be having court at the Merritt Cemetery, right on Judge Gilliam’s grave.

  Well, good luck with that. The grave didn’t give much back. He ought to know.

  Keenum Sutton, his law clerk, was coming down the hall with a stack of books from the law library. Like Olive, Keenum came with the job. Unlike Olive, Keenum seemed to like Luke. Too bad Judge Gilliam hadn’t left a nanny. That’s what Luke really needed.

  “Judge,” Keenum said respectfully. “I think I have what you asked for. I’ll look these over and leave what’s pertinent on your desk by morning.”

  “Give yourself a couple of days, Keenum. We’ve got some time. You need to be studying for the Bar.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Luke expected a “sir” out of anyone under fifteen, but he was not old enough for a “sir” from Keenum. But a lot of things went with judge territory and this was one of them. He couldn’t very well say to Keenum, “Call me Luke. Let’s get a beer and hang out.” But he could use a beer and someone to hang out with. Last night he’d had a tea party and read Goodnight Moon seven times. Not that Goodnight Moon didn’t have its charms.

  But he was alone, so alone.

  Luke walked toward Heavenly Confections to look at his prospective new home. It had never been his intention to live in his parents’ farmhouse this long. He’d arrived two days before Thanksgiving, ready to start a new life. His new job in the Merritt County DA’s office started the first of the year and he had intended to use the time between the holidays to find a nanny and a place to live and get settled. But the day after Thanksgiving, he’d fallen off a ladder while decorating the Christmas tree and broken his arm. It had been so easy to stay and let his mother take care of him and Emma and easy to let her stay at the farm when his father went back to the state capital. But eventually the cast came off, the pain pills went away, and Coleman Gilliam died. When the call came from the governor’s office with the bench appointment, it seemed a good time to get on with life and let his mother join the senator in Montgomery. If Luke lived with her much longer, she’d be tying his shoes.

  Gail Avery had protested, claiming that she didn’t want to leave Merritt. It was a lie. Though the farm had been in the Avery family for three generations and would always be home, the Averys lived in Montgomery when the legislature was in session. Gail loved the political life as much as the senator did. She’d tried to persuade Luke to stay in the farmhouse, going so far as offering to leave Susie, who had worked for the Averys for so long that she was more family than employee. But he declined.

  That might have been a mistake.

  Luke had never run a household alone, unless you counted his bachelor days. Truth be told, he’d not done much to help run the house he’d shared with Carrie. He’d just sat back and basked in the comfort, order, and warmth she’d brought to their lives — albeit with the help of Rhonda, their live-in nanny. After the accident, Rhonda had stayed on and maintained the order — if not the comfort and warmth. Luke might have lived on like that forever, if Rhonda hadn’t announced that she was quitting to get married and go back to school. That, combined with the bad memories and the gossip, had finalized his decision to sell Carrie’s real estate business and leave Mobile.

  Luke hadn’t lived in an apartment since law school but, since he needed to start simple, the one above Heavenly Confections seemed a good choice. There was no yard to maintain and he had heard that it was newly renovated. Best of all, it was convenient to work, Emma’s nursery school, church, and places to eat and shop. The only drawback was dealing with Lanie Heaven. Every time he saw her, she reminded him of his humiliating entrée into the Merritt social scene — if you could call a gathering to watch the Alabama/Auburn football game that.

  Every Thanksgiving weekend, the entire state went into an absolute frenzy over the Iron Bowl — the biggest football game of the year in a state where football was practically a religion. People declared their loyalty by decorating their yards, their cars, and their bodies. On game day, lifelong friends became bitter enemies and retail businesses suffered. It was ridiculous. And until last year, he’d joined right in, loving every minute of it.

  Luke hadn’t intended to go to the Braggs’ Iron Bowl party. Though they had gone to law school together, Luke barely knew Harris Bragg and had felt no obligation to accept the invitation. Holidays were hard enough without the pain of a broken arm and football. Football meant Jake and that was another black crater in his soul. But the senator had gotten wind of the party, like he got wind of everything, and kept insisting that Luke “get out of the house and get to know some people.” In the end, Luke thought it would be easier to go than not.

  That was a mistake. The party was nothing short of torture. The only thing worse than being alone was being alone in a room full of people with history,
who are delighted with everything about each other. He knew some of them vaguely from summers and vacations spent in Merritt, but he hadn’t gone to school with them — hadn’t gone to their birthdays, been in their weddings, lost his virginity to one of them.

  Just when the game was almost over and his escape imminent, his bad day had crashed into calamity. He knew better than to eat anything, especially candy, without being certain it didn’t contain peanuts. But under the best of circumstances he didn’t have much appetite and the chocolate had looked appealing. Besides, someone had told him it was caramel filled. Turned out some of it was, but not the one he put in his mouth.

  Much drama ensued involving an EpiPen and everyone missing the end of the game. It did no good to tell Lanie Heaven, who’d brought the candy, that she hadn’t caused his attack, that he was responsible for his own allergy. With wide, terrified eyes and a quivering voice, she’d apologized over and over again, and insisted on driving him home. Every time he’d seen her since, Lanie had blushed, stammered, and apologized — until yesterday. Yesterday, she’d been downright snappy, almost mean — though that was preferable to the groveling.

  It might be a trial to live in such close proximity to Lanie, but maybe he wouldn’t run into her much. He knew little about her, but she seemed to be something of a train wreck. Her shop had a big fancy coffee bar and Lanie made an excellent espresso but she didn’t open until nine o’clock — way too late for a coffee bar to be much good, though she would sell him a cup of espresso before opening if he knocked on the door.

  With her thick, shoulder-length chestnut hair, jade green eyes, and rosy complexion, Lanie was pretty, though it was impossible to tell what her body looked like in her ridiculous work clothes. In those baggy candy print pants and aprons, she always looked like a refugee from Candy Land. The few times he’d seen her at church and around town, he hadn’t noticed what she’d been wearing, but he hadn’t noticed her body then, either, so her other clothes were probably baggy too — not that it mattered.