We Interrupt This Date

by L. C. Evans

  “No bother,” I said. “This is my ex-stepfather and he’s on his way out.”

  Again the sly grin. Didn’t the man have more than one expression? Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember any others except anger.

  “Ex-stepfather, that’s rich. But, yeah, I’m leaving.” He sauntered to the door, and Kenny moved quickly aside to let him pass.

  Memories of childhood rushed over me, and my hands shook. I would probably have knelt in shock for hours if Kenny hadn’t said, “Did you know you have little dogs hanging off your sleeves?”

  “Right,” I said, frowning down at my arms. “I knew thatl.”

  I let Kenny help me pry the jaws apart. My thoughts churned until I wondered if my brain would turn to butter. I hadn’t seen Philip Beauchamp since DeLorean was fourteen and he unexpectedly showed up for her birthday to bring her an imitation Barbie, one of those crudely put together hard plastic dolls you can buy for a couple of dollars at discount shops. Mama had come close to fainting when she saw him, and I’d had to run Philip off, slap a cold cloth on Mama’s forehead, and console DeLorean. And this on a day when T. Chandler chose to have one of his fits because I asked him to pick up Christian at the sitter’s on his way home.

  I wished I hadn’t been there when Philip walked in. And I wondered what he meant when he said, “Ex-stepfather, that’s rich.” Did he think he was still my stepfather because he’d been married to my mother for a couple of short years? Jerk.

  When we got back, Kenny and I unloaded Mama’s things. I brought her the purse and set it in her lap. She took the babies out and let them give her some sugar. Wordlessly I handed her a box of tissues and went to fix lunch for Kenny.

  I waited until Kenny left—after eating the four grilled cheese sandwiches I fixed for him and drinking half a gallon of milk--before I told Mama I’d seen Philip Beauchamp. At her condo. In her condo.

  “Did you remember my vitamins, Susan? And my bag of prunes?” Mama cupped her hands around the nest of sleeping Chihuahuas in her lap. “And the food for the babies?”

  “Yes and yes and yes.” I stood in the middle of the room between the couch where Mama lay propped on pillows with her foot elevated and the love seat where DeLorean sat with Cole sleeping in her arms, his rosebud mouth making little sucking motions. Thank God he didn’t look one bit like his maternal grandfather. “Mama, did you hear what I said? Philip Beauchamp. In the flesh. At your condo.”

  I watched Mama’s expression not change, though her cheeks pinked up about five shades. No surprise, but I hadn’t expected one. From what Philip had said, he wanted something from Mama and he’d already contacted her.

  DeLorean put her hand to her throat. “What if he found out he has a grandson and he wants to see Cole?” Her arms acted reflexively, pulling her son closer to her chest. DeLorean had been a baby herself when Philip left. When he’d crashed her birthday party all those years later, he’d been drunk and had almost gotten into a fistfight with the father of one of her friends, so DeLorean had been able to see for herself what a jerk he was.

  “Don’t worry.” Mama shook her fist so hard, Sweetpea started to roll off her lap and had to scrabble to haul himself back up the side of a cushion. “If Mr. Beauchamp comes within a hundred feet of that child, I will rip his lungs out and wrap them around his head.”

  “Mama!” my sister and I said in unison. It was definitely not ladylike to speak of ripping and wrapping lungs.

  “He said he needed an answer from you,” I said. “What was he talking about?”

  “That is none of your business. I declare, Susan, you have gotten entirely above yourself about asking personal questions. Bless your heart, you just can’t seem to manage without prying.”

  “Me?” I screeched. “You’re a world class meddler. At least I pass on messages when I’m asked to.”

  This was Mama’s cue to close her eyes and plead pain and exhaustion. I shrugged. There were ways of finding things out, and for the sake of my family, I was going to get some answers. It wasn’t just that Philip Beauchamp made me feel creepy, but childhood memories of him and his selfishness ran deep, a part of my psyche I hadn’t consciously thought about in years. I wasn’t going to wait like a trapped animal for him to make his next move.

  At least I wouldn’t have to spend the evening waiting hand and foot on Mama and DeLorean. Jack called to make sure our bathroom inspection “date” for this evening was still on. Maybe when he’d talked to Kelly The Girlfriend last night, she’d pushed him to get his house finished so she wouldn’t have to wait to move to Charleston.

  I pictured myself meeting her. Jack would arrange for us to have dinner together. I’d have to recruit someone to play the part of my boyfriend. Maybe Patty would let me borrow Kyle. I’d sit across the table and smile and smile until my face muscles went sore. Then I’d leave with my pretend boyfriend while Jack and Kelly The Girlfriend went back to his place for an evening of...whatever.

  What would Kelly be like? I pictured her looking a lot like Maureen, his ex wife. Short and beautiful with a tight little figure that showed she used to be a gymnast and still worked out every day. Platinum hair, thanks to an expensive salon, and makeup that made her face look airbrushed. Eyes as blue as contact lenses could make them. The personality of a piranha.

  I realized I was wallowing in bitchiness and I shook my head, clearing it. Jack’s girlfriend was probably not anything like Maureen. Hadn’t Jack said he’d learned from his disastrous marriage? And even if Kelly were Maureen’s double, so what? My role was to be Jack’s chemistry-lacking friend, a pal whose only role was to advise him on decorating his bathroom. I would be nice to Kelly if it killed me.

  The rain had come and gone in an hour and the sun reappeared to practically sizzle the remaining clouds out of the sky. DeLorean advised me to wear a dress and a pair of heels. She offered to loan me a gauzy blue number guaranteed to tantalize, but I laughed. “Don’t be silly. Jack’s taking me to dinner and then we’re going to look at his house—currently under renovation. I can’t see myself stumbling around a construction site in heels and, besides, Jack will probably show up wearing jeans--he always does--and I’ll feel overdressed.”

  “It’s Sunday. You can’t overdress on Sunday. Jack will appreciate the effort and you look so pretty in dresses. You have gorgeous legs, doesn’t she, Mama?”

  Mama looked up from her magazine. “She does--she got them from me. Although, she’s taller than I, of course. I quite agree with you, DeLorean, there is no reason for Susan to wear that common pair of slacks with a blouse that clearly is not the right color for her.”

  “Moss green?” I said, looking down at myself. “You helped me pick it out.”

  “You must have been wearing different make up that day,” Mama said with a sniff.

  “Jack and I are not going on a date, and it wouldn’t matter if I wore a designer gown and a tiara. Jack has a girlfriend. We are nothing more than buddies.”

  The doorbell rang. I ran to answer it, ignoring the dual “make the man wait” frowns from Mama and DeLorean. In fact, I gave in to a moment of rudeness and slipped out the door to meet Jack on the steps instead of asking him to come inside.

  “Come on,” I said. “Mama hurt her ankle and she’s temporarily moved in. If she sees you, we won’t get out of here before midnight, if at all.” I didn’t need a delay while DeLorean gave him another backrub or Mama quizzed him about his family and asked how they were doing since they’d moved out of state.

  “Sorry to hear about the ankle. I’ll go inside and say hello.”

  “It’s just a sprain, but she really couldn’t manage on her own with her dogs and she refused to hire a home health aide. You can come in when you bring me back.” I pushed past him down the driveway and he had no choice but to follow. I climbed into his Mercedes. I’d expected the pickup he’d been driving last night. “Nice car.”

  “Thanks. Had it in the shop for a tune up,” he said, as though he knew I was wondering about hi
s truck. “Do you mind if we go straight to the house before dinner? I’m expecting someone.”

  My stomach dived toward my feet. “Fine. Whatever works for you.” I stared straight ahead. Road. Lots of cars. A couple of trucks.

  So Kelly The Girlfriend was on her way. He hadn’t said so, but that had to be it. Why hadn’t I taken Mama’s and DeLorean’s advice and dressed up so I could show off my great legs?

  No, wrong. He was taken. I slapped my forehead and stuck out my lips in an involuntary goldfish imitation. Jack gave me an odd look.

  I turned away so he wouldn’t see the next expression that appeared on my face while I tried to sort myself out. There was no reason in the world for me to try to look great when I met Jack’s girlfriend. Except I didn’t want Kelly The Girlfriend to be prettier and better dressed than I was. For some stupid reason.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jack headed into Charleston on narrow streets lined with cars. I sat up straighter and peered from side to side. So many of the houses in this area had fallen almost into ruin and then been renovated and turned into apartments for students. Some of them, though, had been bought by people with the money and the know how to turn them back into the charming mansions they once were. Pale yellows, blues, and greens were the predominant colors. Even freshly painted, they looked as if they’d been here forever.

  We drove past Jack’s apartment and had to stop for a light at the corner. I glanced out the window and saw The Pie Plate where Jack and I had run across each other.

  A white square on the window glass caught my eye. I sat up straighter to get a closer look. “Hey, the sign’s still in the window. They’re hiring.”

  Jack slid a glance at me just as the light changed. “You give up on the ghost tours?”

  “No, of course not.” I fiddled with the strap on my purse. “But I thought since ghost touring’s at night, I could pick up something part-time in the morning. Christian wants to quit his job so he’ll have more time to enjoy college.”

  “And you think it’s a good idea to take on twenty hours or so a week serving coffee and pie at the same time that you have your injured mother and your sister and baby nephew to take care of? Along with a new job? What are you, Charleston’s candidate for superwoman of the year?”

  “It’s not like that,” I shot back. Funny how fast human nature steps in and makes people turn defensive. “DeLorean is going to help with Mama. And Christian needs a social life apart from his studies and his job. College is supposed to be fun, at least part of the time. Hey, you had your share of good times in college. I remember you telling me about parties and football games and going to the beach.”

  “True, but I worked, too.” He signaled for a left. The car, its motor ticking over so smoothly I almost couldn’t hear it, slid past more rows of pastel-colored homes, most of them featuring Charleston style side porches.

  When I didn’t respond with a further comment on the merits of fun at college, Jack must have taken that for a sign I was dropping the subject. He pointed out a couple of houses under renovation that his company was working on. Safe topic for both of us.

  “You can’t beat these old places for quality of materials and workmanship. That one on the corner has solid mahogany paneling in every room. Can you believe the former owner wanted to knock it down and build one of those angled modern homes decorated with chrome and glass? I’ve got nothing against modern, but what he had in mind would have looked like a parked space ship on a street like this.”

  “I agree.” I’d seen evidence in other cities of people being seduced into replacing historic architecture with rows of flimsy boxes that all looked alike. The house he pointed out, unlike most of the others on the street, was brick and had a small cobblestone driveway leading to a carriage house. I was impressed. Off street parking. A way to keep one’s car off the narrow Charleston streets originally built for horse drawn carriages. Points on for the carriage house.

  “What happened with the modern eyesore?”

  “The city wouldn’t grant permission. He sold the place and moved on.”

  “Good for the city.”

  Jack turned left at the next street and pulled into the driveway of the most impressive house we’d seen yet. This one was wood frame construction with side porches on both main floors. At the very top of the house, dormer windows indicated a sizeable attic, probably walk-up. An enormous oak stood next to a carriage house in the courtyard out back.

  “Is this another one you’re working on?” I said.

  “You might say that. This one’s mine.”

  “Wow.” I climbed out of the car and turned to face him. “I’m impressed, Jack. Your house is fabulous.”

  He shrugged. “After the divorce, Maureen and I sold our home and some other property we had in New Jersey. Even split two ways we made a nice profit. And the widow who sold me this place made me the deal of a lifetime because she knew I was going to renovate and care for the house as much as she did.”

  “You almost sound like you think you don’t deserve something like this.” I slipped my arm through his. “You’re a hard worker. And a nice person. Why shouldn’t you have success?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe I’ve made too many mistakes in the past.” He looked at me solemn-faced and I couldn’t see the mischievous glint in his eye that usually told me when he was kidding. But the skies were still murky after the earlier storm and the branches from the oak were shading his face. So maybe I was simply missing something.

  “Here’s where I’m supposed to tell you how perfect you are. After that, I profess my undying admiration and affection and shower you with compliments until my voice gives out. Then you shuffle your feet and stare at your toes and mumble, ‘Ah, shucks, ma’am, that’s mighty nice of you.’ Well, don’t place bets on any of that, mister. Don’t try fishing for compliments from me.” I grinned to show I was kidding.

  “Wasn’t going to. And besides the fact that I can’t see my toes through my shoes, you know I’m not the ‘ah, shucks’ type. Gotten sassy in your old age, haven’t you?”

  “Look who’s talking about old. In case you’ve forgotten, you’re a good two months older than I am. Now show me the rest of this gem before I get fed up with your insults and leave.”

  He gently brushed my hair away from my face, letting his fingers glide against my cheek. Little tiny goosebumps--the most delicate of goosebumps--chased each other down my back.

  “You’ll have to look past the drop cloths and all the other signs of ongoing renovation, but you’ll get the idea. I look forward to your opinion.”

  “And I look forward to giving it.” My arm still linked in his, we went up the steps to the massive front door.

  Jack unlocked the door, pushed it open, and waved me inside. I stopped in the foyer, which was about the size of my dining room and kitchen combined.

  What could I say about a house that was perfect? Or would be when the work was finished. Mahogany paneling. Ornate moldings. Built in bookshelves and cupboards. A soaring curved stairway that led to the upper floor. Lofty ceilings. Crystal chandeliers. Fireplaces with exquisite hand carved mantles.

  We climbed the stairs to see Jack’s bedroom. The room was enormous. There were windows on two sides and a door that led onto the side porch, which was shaded by a giant magnolia. I pictured a table and chairs on the porch, perfect for morning coffee.

  “Over here’s the bathroom I was telling you about.” Jack grabbed my arm and hauled me across the floor like I was a toy on a string.

  “Hey, what’s the rush?” I pulled my arm away from him and rubbed my elbow.

  “I told you, I’m expecting someone.”

  There went my stomach again, trying to fall into my shoes. I’d forgotten. Really.

  I shook away thoughts of meeting Kelly and stood with my hands on my hips, trying to visualize the finished product. Not easy. The floor was still unfinished, just rough plywood. I could see pipes where there were supposed to be a toilet, sinks, shower, a
nd a tub that would be situated under the huge stained glass window.

  Jack moved closer to stand beside me. He casually draped an arm over my shoulder.

  “Tell me, Nic, how would you decorate if this were your home?”

  I wondered how I’d feel if I were his girlfriend Kelly and I knew that Jack had brought me here and put his arm around me. Not only that, but he’d asked me to help him decorate the house that she, presumably, was going to move into with him. I told myself I wouldn’t mind at all if I were the girlfriend because Susan Caraway was nothing more than Jack’s high school buddy, the klutzy girl who fell off the couch the one and only time he kissed me.

  Then, pursing my lips as if that would help me concentrate, I tried to imagine myself living here. What would I want my bathroom to look like?

  Marble floors--green to pick up the same shade as the green in the stained glass window. A bit of royal purple for accents because that’s my favorite color. Some white for contrast. I moved from the front of the room to the back, explaining as I went, waving my hands for emphasis.

  Jack kept nodding. Finally he said, “Is that it?”

  “I guess so. And I’m sure you could have done the same thing yourself.”

  “Uh-uh.” He shook his head. “I was ordered to get a second opinion. Female.”

  “That’s right, and I did the ordering.”

  I jumped and slid out from under Jack’s arm to turn around. I’d been so absorbed in mentally decorating Jack’s bathroom that I hadn’t heard anyone come into the house.

  A tall, blond woman stood in the doorway. She was beautifully dressed in a peach-colored linen suit. She was gorgeous, flawless even, and I would have bet her makeup was done professionally. I had to concentrate on my jaw muscles to keep my mouth from dropping open in awe.

  “Hi.” I stepped forward with my hand out. “Jack has told me…” He hadn’t actually told me anything about Kelly, come to think of it. “all about you.”