Where Azaleas Bloom

by Sherryl Woods

  Flo laughed. “So no more talk about my disgracing myself or you?”

  “None,” Helen promised. “I really do want you to be happy, and if being with Donnie is what you want, I’ll get used to it. And, just so you know, none of this has a thing in the world to do with Donnie Leighton. I’d have freaked out no matter who the man in your life turned out to be. Donnie’s a good guy.”

  “I know that. He’s the best one to come along since your daddy died.”

  Helen gave her a startled look. “Is that why you never dated much? Because you couldn’t get over Daddy?”

  “I suppose, though goodness knows your daddy had more than his share of flaws. I never wore rose-colored glasses about that,” Flo said thoughtfully. “But the truth is, I was so busy trying to keep a roof over our heads, food on the table and a little money put aside for your education that dating was the last thing on my mind. I think that’s why I’ve been so concerned about Lynn. Seemed to me she might be in the same position.”

  “She came close,” Helen admitted. “But I think things are more stable now.”

  “And she’s seeing that wonderful Mitch Franklin,” Flo said. “Other than Elliott Cruz at the spa, I’m not sure there’s another man in Serenity who looks quite as good in a pair of jeans.”

  “Mom!”

  “Well, I notice those things,” Flo said, refusing to apologize. “I might not have had much time to date, but I wasn’t dead. And those faded Levi’s that Donnie wears when we go to hear a little country music and do some dancing?” She picked up a napkin and fanned herself. “He’s another one who was born to wear denim.”

  Helen merely shook her head, but there was a twinkle in her eyes.

  Flo tucked her arm through her daughter’s. “Think when we go back in there you can fake being at least a little bit happy for me?”

  Helen turned and caught her in yet another impulsive hug, a surprise given her caution with overt displays of affection. The gesture was all the more meaningful because of it.

  “I won’t have to fake it, Mom. I swear I won’t,” she assured Flo.

  Tears stung Flo’s eyes. “Okay, then. You do know that even when I’m living with Donnie, you, Erik and Sarah Beth will still be as important to me as anything on this earth, right?”

  “I know,” Helen said with a sniff.

  Flo pulled back and saw the surprising sheen of tears in her very strong daughter’s eyes. “Don’t you start crying,” she ordered. “I’m already blubbering enough for both of us. Now we’d best get back in there before somebody calls Carter to come see if we’ve managed to kill each other.”

  “No worries on that score,” Helen said, raising her voice just a little. “I imagine when we open the door, we’ll find Maddie and Dana Sue listening on the other side of it.”

  Helen gave the door a quick push, and sure enough her best friends stumbled back. Helen turned to Flo. “Told you so.”

  “They love you,” Flo said.

  Helen nodded, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “Yeah, I suppose they do.”

  “You know we do,” Maddie corrected.

  Flo saw the worry in Maddie’s and Dana Sue’s eyes fade, quickly replaced by affection. Looking at them, she thanked God that the three of them had had each other’s backs through thick and thin. She hadn’t realized how valuable those friendships were until she’d formed such a tight bond with Frances and Liz.

  “How about another margarita?” she inquired. “I’m suddenly feeling a little parched.”

  “How about a virgin margarita?” Helen countered, pouring her what amounted to a glass of frozen limeade. “I thought we’d concluded that one was your limit.”

  “Spoilsport,” Flo grumbled, but she accepted the drink gratefully, winking at Frances and Liz. “After all, I want to be as sober as can be when my daughter toasts my new living arrangement.”

  Helen gave her a startled look, then laughed. “To Mom and Donnie,” she said, lifting her own very strong drink. “And to the guest room in which I am absolutely certain she will be sleeping!”

  Hoots of laughter greeted the toast.

  “I’m serious,” Helen said, turning to Flo. “Right, Mom?”

  “You just keep right on thinking that, sweetheart. I’ll be sure to toss a nightie on the guest room bed when you come over.” She winked at Frances and Liz. “I won’t be needing it anyway.”

  * * *

  Mitch had always thought he’d kept himself in pretty good shape, but compared to baseball coach Cal Maddox and some of these other guys, he’d obviously been deluding himself. He spent most of the evening on the basketball court doubled over, sucking air.

  “I thought you said these guys weren’t that competitive,” he complained to Carter after taking an elbow to the ribs when he’d tried to block a shot.

  “Well, they don’t start out the evening that way,” Carter said. “But there’s something about the prospect of losing that spurs their motivation as the game goes on.” He studied Mitch as they drank bottled water on the sidelines during a break. “You okay?”

  “If you’re asking if I’m going to live, the answer’s yes. Will I ever be the same? That, I’m not so sure about. I think when my son’s home from college, I’m going to get out here and practice some before I tangle with you guys again.”

  “You’ve scored three times,” Carter pointed out. “That’s more than some of the others have done.”

  “Pure luck,” Mitch insisted.

  “Luck, my aunt Fanny,” Ronnie grumbled, joining them. “You’re the first guy who’s played who could get around me that fast.” He took a long slug of water. “I swear to God, I think I may be getting too old for this.”

  Ty Townsend, who’d managed a one-night trip home before the Braves opened their next home stand in Atlanta, slapped his father-in-law on the back. “You were too old for this when I was ten.”

  Ronnie responded to the taunt with a sour look. “Smart-mouth kid.”

  Ty grinned unrepentantly. “You gonna tell Annie on me?”

  “Nope,” Ronnie said. “I’m gonna tell my wife. Dana Sue has knives and several cast-iron skillets in that kitchen of hers at Sullivan’s. Word on the street is that she’s pretty adept with both.”

  Ty laughed. “I know that’s true. I remember when she chased you off with a skillet before you guys got divorced. That scene was the talk of the town for weeks.”

  “Not a happy memory,” Ronnie said, sobering. “Thank goodness, she put it behind us before we remarried. Okay, who’s ready to get back on that court?”

  “Not me,” Carter said. “I’m ready for a drink. Since I’m driving tonight and the police chief to boot, it’ll have to be soda for me, but I’ll buy the first round of beers for the rest of you.”

  “No need to buy,” Ronnie said. “I stocked the fridge earlier. Let’s head on over to my house.”

  A few minutes later, they were all gathered on Ronnie’s deck, beers in hand. Mitch took a sip of his and sighed. There was nothing better on a warm night, especially after a hard workout. Much as he loved that lemonade and iced tea he’d been drinking at Lynn’s, this was better.

  When Ronnie offered a second round, though, he declined. “I have an early morning,” he said, determined to be at Lynn’s first thing for that conversation they’d postponed twice already.

  To his relief, Ronnie didn’t push and, better yet, Mitch felt no real temptation to have that second drink. Hopefully, that meant that
whatever pattern he’d fallen into after Amy’s death had been a reaction to grief and nothing more. Not that he planned to test that theory by indulging very often. A beer after a game like tonight, or maybe while watching a pro or college game on TV—what was the harm in that?

  * * *

  When Raylene pulled into her driveway at home, she shook her head. “Looks like we wound up our evening earlier than the guys did,” she said to Lynn.

  Lynn gave her a curious look. “The guys were having a night out, too?”

  “They were planning to play basketball in the park then stop over at Ronnie and Dana Sue’s for a few beers after. I’m surprised you didn’t know. Carter was planning to invite Mitch along.”

  “Really?” Lynn said, her pulse picking up at the mention of those beers. “Mitch didn’t mention it.”

  Surely he wouldn’t go along with the guys and have a beer, or even more, not after the conversation they’d had about his drinking. Hadn’t he learned his lesson, after all? She knew that for alcoholics temptation was always just around the corner.

  “You feel like coming in for coffee?” Raylene asked.

  “No, I should get home and make sure the kids have their homework done for school tomorrow. I imagine Lexie’s spent most of the evening on the phone with Mandy.”

  “I think you can count on that,” Raylene said. “Okay, then, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” She hesitated, then said, “Hey, do you think you could open for me in the morning? I’d like to stop by Sullivan’s and spend a little time with Karen. She wasn’t at Helen’s tonight. I figure she was working, but I haven’t seen a lot of her recently. I want to make sure everything’s going okay.”

  Lynn gave her a startled look. “Are you sure? I mean about having me open. I’ve never done it before.”

  “All you need to worry about is unlocking the door,” Raylene assured her. “If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll run inside and get you the money for the cash register. I bring it home, rather than leaving it there. One less thing to worry about if there’s ever a break-in.”

  “Okay, then. If you’re comfortable with it, I’ll be happy to open,” Lynn said.

  “Great. And I won’t be that late. I just don’t want to rush, if Karen needs to talk.”

  Lynn waited while Raylene ran into the house, then returned with the cash for her.

  “Thanks for doing this.”

  “No problem. I’ll get there bright and early.”

  “Ten on the nose will do. I don’t like to be late, but the truth is we’re never busy much before midmorning.”

  Lynn nodded. “I’ll call your cell if there’s anything I can’t figure out.”

  At home she got the kids’ homework checked, then sent them off to bed. She got herself ready for bed, but even after she’d crawled under the covers, she couldn’t seem to turn off her mind. It kept going back to Raylene’s offhand comment about the men going out for beers. And no matter how she tried to convince herself that she was making way too much out of an innocent remark, she couldn’t seem to untangle the knot of dread that had formed in the pit of her stomach.

  * * *

  It was after nine by the time Mitch finally finished checking his various job sites around the city and reached Raylene’s. He parked in her driveway, had a quick word with Terry and the rest of his crew, then went next door.

  Lynn answered, looking harried.

  “Everything okay?” he asked at once.

  “I’m supposed to open today for Raylene, my hair dryer broke and every pair of hose I put on had runs.” She frowned. “Why are you here? After we canceled yesterday, I left those paychecks with Terry. Didn’t he give them to you?”

  “Of course he did. We have some unfinished business, though.”

  She gestured toward her damp hair. “This is the only unfinished business I have time for this morning, Mitch. Can whatever’s on your mind wait?”

  Something in her voice alerted him that her mood wasn’t all about a broken hair dryer and some ruined hose.

  “Until?” he said quietly.

  She frowned. “What?”

  “When is it you think you’ll be ready to have that conversation?”

  “Later,” she said. “I have to go.”

  “Lynn,” he protested, only to have the door closed in his face. He stared at it incredulously.

  His first instinct was to knock again and keep right on knocking until she opened it and talked to him. Common sense, though, told him she was in no mood for a rational conversation right now. Maybe she was mad at him, maybe she was just having a tough morning. Whatever it was, he wouldn’t get anywhere with her until she’d calmed down.

  And, in the meantime, he could try to find some way to keep his own annoyance about that closed door in check.

  17

  Lynn knew she’d ticked Mitch off by closing the door in his face, but she’d been in no mood for the conversation that was so obviously on his mind. Nor had she had the time for it.

  She finally managed to locate Lexie’s hair dryer, which her daughter had a habit of using wherever she felt like it and then leaving it there. Lynn’s resulting style wasn’t perfect, but at least she didn’t look like a drowned rat. She gave up on finding hose, slipped on a pair of sandals and was about to run out the door when the phone rang.

  “Mrs. Morrow, this is Lucille at the bank,” a subdued voice said when she answered.

  “Hi, Lucille. How are you?”

  “Fine, and you?”

  “Fine,” Lynn said, then waited, her heart pounding. Surely this couldn’t be some kind of bad news. Last time she’d checked, her account had still been okay.

  “I’m sorry to call you about this, but there’s a bit of a problem with your checking account.”

  Lynn sat down hard. “I don’t understand. What sort of problem? I went through the statement a week ago, and everything looked to be in order.”

  “Unfortunately, there have been several overdrafts since then,” Lucille said. “I know you have protection for that, but we like to alert customers when this sort of problem arises, especially when there are so many payments involved.”

  “Now I really don’t understand,” Lynn said, her temper stirring. “I balanced my checkbook when the statement came. There was still plenty of money to cover the checks I wrote.”

  “Possibly so,” Lucille conceded. “But Mr. Morrow wrote a check for a rather large amount. It wiped out that balance, and it cleared before these other checks started turning up.”

  The anger that surged through Lynn nearly took her breath away. “You have to be kidding me. Ed’s not supposed to be writing checks on that account.” Or had she just assumed he wouldn’t? Obviously that was a mistake.

  “His name is still on the account,” Lucille said. “We had no choice but to honor the check he wrote.”

  “To whom was that check made out?” Lynn asked, her tone icy. “And for how much?”

  “To cash. It was for five thousand dollars. That left only a few dollars in the account. Seventeen dollars and thirty-seven cents, to be exact.”

  Lynn felt sick to her stomach. Helen had probably told her to do some kind of paperwork, but she’d trusted Ed to be an honorable man. Worst of all, he’d taken not only the money he’d paid her for support, but the money she’d deposited from her own paltry paychecks.

  “Thanks for letting me know, Lucille. I’ll take care of this before the end of the day.”r />
  Dazed, she hung up the phone, glanced at the clock and realized she had only minutes to get to the boutique. She grabbed her purse, the money for the register and made the walk to Main Street in record time.

  As soon as she’d turned on the lights and put the money into the cash register, she called Helen.

  After describing the call from Lucille and listening to a few blistering words about Ed from her attorney, she asked, “Helen, what am I supposed to do? That was every bit of money I had.”

  “I’ll deal with it,” Helen promised. “Are you at the boutique?”

  “Yes.”

  “Give me an hour. I’ll either call or stop by.”

  “Thanks, Helen. Should I call Ed?”

  “Absolutely not. Let me deal with Ed,” Helen said. “I imagine this is going to be the final straw with Hal Cantor. I think I can persuade him to hold an emergency hearing by tomorrow.”

  “And in the meantime?”

  “I’ll get that money replaced one way or another, Lynn. I promise you that.”

  Lynn hung up, relieved to leave everything in Helen’s capable hands, but shaking with fury just the same. Even though Helen had sternly advised against it, she dialed Ed’s private line at work.

  “How could you?” she demanded when he answered. “What kind of man virtually bankrupts his wife and children?”

  “Stop exaggerating,” he said, though he sounded shaken by her outrage. “You’re hardly bankrupt.”

  “Seventeen dollars, Ed. That’s what you left in that account. You not only took the support money. You stole my money, too.”

  “Stole?”

  “Yes,” she said flatly. “That was money I’d worked for. Every single check I wrote to pay our bills could have been returned, but thank heavens we’d put overdraft protection on the account. How I’m supposed to cover them, though, is beyond me.”