Scarlett’s hand moved lovingly over her belly. “In a few months. She’s a girl.” Her blinding smile became more brilliant.
Honey leaned down and kissed Wardell on the cheek. “How are you, lover?”
Wardell patted her face. “Better now that you’re here.”
Tears pricked at Charlie’s eyes. She was so happy that her Pops had Honey.
As if her thoughts drew the woman’s attention, Honey glanced at Charlie and winked. “We’ve got some serious business to discuss, Charlie.”
“Oh, okay. I was just leaving.” She grabbed her purse from the counter. “I’ll get out of your way.”
“No, darlin’. I mean, you, Scarlett, your Pops, and I have business to discuss.”
She looked at Scarlett and her grandfather both grinning like they were in on whatever this was. She dragged in a breath and sat in one of the kitchen chairs. “Alright, what is it?”
Honey took the seat next to Wardell. “Darlin’, you need to go to the doctor.” Honey bit her lip and looked slightly uncomfortable. “I hope you don’t mind, but I told Scarlett about your little blessing, hoping she could help us. Turns out she can.”
“I know I should’ve already gone, but I’ve been worried about…”
“The wrong people finding out?” Scarlett supplied.
Charlie played with the ring she’d bought herself after she won her first Teen Choice Award. “Yes. I’m not ready for the press to know.”
Scarlett took the chair next to her. “I completely understand. Gavin and I had the same concern.”
Honey got up and poured herself a cup of coffee. “We’re real lucky that the media found out about the sex scandal on that reality TV show. Once that story broke the paparazzi hightailed it out of here like their clothes were on fire. So at least we don’t have to worry about them following you to the doctor.”
Scarlett placed her hand on Charlie’s. “My OB, Dr. Shelton, is fantastic, and she and her staff can be trusted to keep things confidential. I know the law requires it, but you and I both know people can be bribed and coerced into telling things they shouldn’t. I totally trust Dr. Shelton and her people.”
Charlie eyed her grandfather. “You knew about this?”
Wardell smiled. “I did. It was my idea for Honey to ask Scarlett about her doctor.” He reached over and took her hand. “You’re my granddaughter, and…” He turned to Honey. “What’d you say she’s calling it?”
“The Pod,” Honey said.
“That’s right.” His attention went back to Charlie. “And The Pod is my grandchild. I’m for damn certain gonna make sure the two of you are safe.”
“Damn certain!” Aiden yelled.
Scarlett pulled the boy onto her lap. “Aiden, what have Daddy and I said about bad words?”
“That they’re bad.” He gave her a toothy grin.
“And?”
“And I shouldn’t say them even though my daddy does.” The mutinous look on his face was hilarious.
“Yes, well…” Scarlett said, while Honey choked on a laugh.
“I guess I’m gonna have to watch my language from now on,” Wardell said. “Sorry about that.”
Scarlett waved him off. “Clearly, he’s heard it before. We’re just trying to nip it in the bud before he goes to school next year. I don’t want him known as Potty Mouth Bain.”
Aiden dissolved in a cascade of giggles. He took Scarlett by the face and looked her in the eye. “I not a potty mouth, mama. Daddy’s a potty mouth.” Then he fell into laughter again along with everyone else.
As Charlie watched Scarlett and Aiden together, a heady cocktail of fear and joy rushed through her. What would it be like after Pod was born? She could hardly imagine it.
“Oh, Charlie. I almost forgot,” Scarlett said. “I was hoping to buy some lotion from you. I picked up a tube in town, but Honey said you were working on one for stretch marks. I’d like several containers of that one.”
“I’m still tweaking that recipe. It should be ready next week. Would that work?”
Scarlett scooted a plate out of Aiden’s reach. “That would be perfect. Just tell me how much I owe you.”
She waved the other woman off. “Don’t worry about it. You can just have it.”
“Nonsense. I’ll pay for it like any other customer. Speaking of paying for it, you need to raise your prices. I’m sure you know that you can get twice what you’re selling it for in a boutique somewhere.”
“Yes, but this is Zachsville. I didn’t think I should price it so high. I want people who would benefit from it to be able to get it.” That was another of her grandmother’s traits rubbing off on her. She had been all about helping people.
“I see what you mean, but it’s a shame because the stuff is golden. My elbows and feet have never been so smooth,” Scarlett said.
“Wardell says my skin is soft as a baby’s bottom.” Honey cupped Wardell’s face in her hand and kissed him on the lips. “Isn’t that right?”
“That’s right, my Honey Bee.”
Scarlett and Charlie shared a look indicating that both wished they were in another room…or state.
“I guess I could buy some less expensive ingredients and make two different lines. One would be more affordable, and the other would be priced as a high-end item.”
Honey tapped the table. “And you said you didn’t know anything about business. But look at you coming up with that fantastic idea.”
“That wasn’t business, Honey. That was just common sense.” But a little thrill of excitement jetted through her at the thought of making this into a business.
“That’s ninety percent of what business is, common sense. And Honey’s right,” Wardell said.
He should know. He’d run the local feed store for forty years. “You always think Honey’s right.” She stood and gathered up her purse.
“I agree with Honey too,” Scarlett said. “And I rarely think she’s right.”
Honey grinned, wadded up a napkin, and threw it at her niece. “You’re a liar.”
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Aiden sang.
While the kitchen broke out into laughter and song, the wheels in Charlie’s brain were churning.
If she was doing this, then she needed a plan, and a damn good one too.
Chapter 21
“I don’t know where she could be.” Hank checked his cell for the fifteenth time. “She knows about the appointment. I confirmed it with her a couple of hours ago.”
Stan Middleton, their marriage counselor, checked his own phone. “We’ve still got a couple of minutes.”
Hank paced to the window and glanced out. “She’s usually very prompt.” And wasn’t it a shame that at the moment he couldn’t come up with any of her other good traits?
“Yes, she’s been uncommonly prompt for your last few appointments.” Stan said it like he could read Hank’s mind, and also thought it was pathetic that Hank was having a hard time coming up with any of Karen’s attributes.
Hanks phone rang. “It’s her.” He swiped the screen. “Hey, babe.”
“Hank, I’m sorry, but I can’t make it this afternoon. One of the other teachers got sick, and I need to cover her extension class tonight.” Karen’s distracted tone told him she was driving.
He ran his hand down his face. “I wish you’d have told me sooner. Stan and I have been waiting.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. Please tell Stan that I’m sorry too. I need to go.”
“Alright. I’ll see you—” The line went dead. “At home.” He pocketed the phone. “She’s not coming. She got called in to teach a class tonight at the junior college.”
“Does that sort of thing happen often?” Stan asked.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not really…sometimes…more lately than when she first started. They’re having trouble finding instructors to teach the evening classes.”
“Uh-huh.”
Hank slapped his thighs with his hands in the universal gest
ure of this is awkward, so I’m leaving. “Well, I won’t take any more of your time. Maybe you can knock off early.” He couldn’t get out of this room fast enough. Stan’s all-knowing gaze was hard enough to take when there were two of them to share it, but alone it was nearly impossible to stand.
“Why don’t we continue without her?” The counselor turned and made a note in his calendar.
“Ah… I don’t know if that’s necessary.” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “I think it’s best if I wait for Karen.”
Stan took his glasses off and cleaned them with his tie. “I often see either the husband or wife alone, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary at all.”
Well, shit. There was no way out. “Alright. Let’s do this then.” Actually, he was warming up to the idea. Maybe Stan could help him with a strategy to put his marriage back together.
Stan picked up his legal notepad and pen. “Great. Why don’t you tell me how things have been going?”
Hank sat on the sofa, leaned back, and put the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other. “Great. Things are really going great.”
“Good.” Stan scribbled something on the pad. “So no arguing?”
“None.” He couldn’t help the smug tone in his voice.
“Really?”
“Our schedules are kind of crazy right now. We’re hardly ever home at the same time.”
More scribbling. He hated when Stan wrote something without saying anything.
“You know she’s really busy with this second job, and my job is always insane. But we’re making it work.”
“How?”
“Beg pardon?”
Stan glanced at him over his readers. “How are you making it work if you hardly ever see each other?” His pen was at the ready for the next words that came out of Hank’s mouth.
“Well…” He rubbed the back of his neck, and it came away damp. Was it hot in here? “I’m trying to be more kind and interested in her job when I see her. I try to not only talk about my job or family.”
“Mh-hm.” Scribble.
“I’m also helping around the house more. I cook for us a couple of nights a week, though she’s usually so tired when she gets home she goes straight to the bathroom to shower, then falls into bed.” That fucking nagging doubt pounded against the lid of the box he’d put it in. He stomped it closed.
“Interesting.” Scribble, scribble.
“Why is that interesting? The woman’s working two jobs and she’s tired. I’m doing all I can to show her I’ve changed and that I can be the kind of husband she needs.”
“What about your sex life?”
Hank sat up taller on the sofa, trying to gain some advantage in this discussion. “How do you mean?”
“How’s it going? Have you been able to reconnect? With what regularity are you having sex?”
This time he caught a bead of sweat from running down his forehead with his fingers. “We’ve…ah…we haven’t, actually.”
Stan cocked his head. “Actually what?”
The bastard was going to make him say it. “Um…had sex since we got back together. It’s hard for her. And for me.” He quickly added. “We’re working our way up to it.”
We’re working our way up to it.
What kind of lame-ass answer was that? Like it was a chore, and they had to make sure they could stomach one thing before they moved to the next. Heat burned under his skin from his neck to the tip of his head. When he said the excuse he’d been telling himself for two months out loud, it sounded fucking pathetic.
“Hmmh.” Scribble, scribble, scribble.
The silence, except for that fucking pen moving over the page, made him want to run from the room screaming. He couldn’t take it anymore. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and his hands clasped. “Listen, Stan. It’s not an ideal situation. I know that. We’re both dealing with a lot of stuff. But I can promise you one thing. Nobody will work harder to make this marriage work than me. I can mind over matter shit like nobody’s business.”
Stan set his pen and pad on the table next to him. “I don’t doubt that, Hank. It’s the thing people admire the most about you.”
Pride rose up in him like the sun on the Serengeti. “Well, thank—”
“It’s also useless in this situation.”
The slap of truth infuriated him. “I beg to differ. I can make my marriage work. I made a commitment, and I plan to keep it. Other men would’ve walked away from this situation when she had the affair, but I’m not most men. I can beat this.”
Stan crossed one leg over the other. “Beat what?”
“This, this, this…” He waved his hand like the answer was printed in the air between them. “This affair, and the marriage falling apart. I. Can. Beat. It.”
“Hank, you can’t will another person to get on board with your plans. This isn’t just about you.”
“I know that. But Karen wants this too.”
“Really? Then where is she? And why is it that when we have these sessions, it’s like pulling teeth to get her to engage?” He held his hand up in surrender. “I’m not making accusations, I’m simply pointing out that this can’t be one-sided to work.”
Hank shot to his feet. He had to get out of this office with its soothing paintings, mellow music, and lavender oil in the humidifier thing. He’d show Stan. He’d show everyone that he didn’t fail. “Thanks for your time, Stan, but I’m afraid I need to go.”
Out on the street, nausea cramped his stomach. It had to be something he ate and not the double portion of truth sandwich that’d just been shoved down his throat.
An hour and a half later he was pulling into the parking lot of Austin Junior College with Karen’s favorite sandwich and fizzy water. She’d most likely not been able to eat dinner since she’d had to come straight here from her other job. The school was quiet in the evenings, but he found the administration office easy enough.
A pretty middle-aged woman sat behind the front desk. “May I help you, Sheriff?” She looked and sounded nervous.
He forgot he was still wearing his uniform. “No, I’m not here in any official capacity. I’m just here to bring dinner to my wife.” He held up the sandwich and water for her to see.
“Well isn’t that nice. Is your wife a student?”
“No, she’s one of your teachers, Karen Odom.”
“Karen?”
He grinned because she was back to looking nervous. “That’s right.”
She fiddled with the flower necklace she wore. “Um…Karen hasn’t taught here since the spring, Sheriff.”
Doubt broke its chains and began running around like a wild man on a killing spree, murdering every ounce of goodwill and hope he’d manufactured about his marriage. “Since last spring, you say?”
The pity in her eyes made him want to hit something.
“Well, thank you for your time.” He turned on his heels and calmly left the building. There had to be a mistake. Karen must’ve given him the wrong name of the school. Maybe the lady at the front desk had her confused with someone else. Homicidal doubt would have none of his excuses, and shot them down one by one, until they lay in a dead heap on the ground.
Just like his marriage.
Chapter 22
There were more people in the bar than there had been the night before, Pod was behaving, and
Charlie was about to murder her boss with a broom and dustpan.
“Charlie, how hard is it to sweep a floor?” Hailey yelled above the music.
There’d be a hole in her tongue by the end of the night from biting it. She didn’t want to get into it with Hailey. There was still the hope that they could patch up their relationship. “I’ll make another pass through.”
“Before you do that, I need you to get the garbage from the bathrooms and take it to the dumpster out back.” The glint of enjoyment in her boss’s eyes wasn’t encouraging. This must be another crappy job.
“I’m on it.�
� Honestly, she was sort of glad to be able to leave the bar even for a few minutes. The singer on stage was maybe the worst she’d ever heard. It didn’t help that he was clearly drunk.
The guy hit a particularly terrible note, and she fought the urge to cover her ears. The squeal from the monitor as he stumbled into it only added to the auditory assault.
“Damn it.” Hailey threw her towel onto the bar. “That idiot is going to drive away all my customers.”
“Why don’t you get rid of him?” Charlie took a step back in case the question sparked violence in her boss.
“Chester’s in here every night even when he’s not singing, so that could get awkward, plus he’s a friend of my dad’s, and he won’t let me fire him.”
“That doesn’t seem fair since you’re the one that’s always here.” She’d never seen Hailey’s father at the bar.
“I didn’t ask your opinion about my bar or how my family and I run it. The only thing you need to worry about is doing your job, which includes the bathroom garbage.”
She and Hailey would need to have that talk sooner rather than later. Charlie had been trying to give her former friend time to adjust to her being back in town. She was prepared to eat crow if it meant they could get their relationship back on track, even though the viciousness seemed a little over the top just for her leaving town without saying goodbye.
Too late, Charlie realized she needed a pair of gloves. But she’d rather scrub the skin from her hands than go back and ask Hailey for anything. She gathered the garbage from the women’s bathroom, careful not to touch anything but the edge of the bag, and even that caused bile to lodge behind her tonsils.
Next was the men’s restroom. She stared at the door for several seconds, not sure how to proceed. This was ridiculous. She just needed to knock and run in to do her job. “Anybody in here? I’m coming in to grab the garbage.” When no one responded, she made her way through the door, and quickly realized she needed gloves and a mask for this assignment. A series of gags made the muscles in her chest and neck contract. Several attempts to swallow them down, then finally the retching stopped. Close call. Pod had almost had a meltdown. How horrible would it be to get sick in the men’s restroom?
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