Scrapping Plans

by Rebeca Seitz

  “Yeah, which means she has time to load.”

  “Not funny.”

  “Who says I was kidding?”

  They fell silent as Tandy wound the car through the streets. Tall trees and exquisitely manicured lawns greeted them at every turn. Hibiscus blossoms the size of dinner plates swayed in the slight breeze, their bases covered in petunias of purple, red, white, and pink.

  “They sure don’t skimp on the landscaping.” Kendra turned this way and that, trying in vain to see every flower.

  “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

  “I forgot this much color was possible in nature.”

  “Winter in Stars Hill will do that to you.”

  “I could paint forever in here.”

  “I bet you could.”

  “Hey, there’s the sign.” Kendra pointed off to the right. “Edgemere.”

  “What number did he say?”

  “Um, 254, I think. There’s 248, slow down.”

  Tandy slowed the car to a crawl until they came to 254. Red stone pavers composed the driveway, bordered on one side by a giant palm and bush with white star-shaped flowers and more giant palms on the other. The house itself was a salmon color that should have been awful but instead blended into the lush landscaping perfectly.

  “She can afford this and she lived in Stars Hill?” Tandy pulled into the driveway too scared of unknown country club rules to park on the street. “I’m confused.”

  “Didn’t Clay tell you she came there because he told so many Stars Hill stories while he served in the Marine Corps?”

  “Yeah, but I never guessed she had this kind of financial freedom. Here I’ve been thinking of her as a gold digger, and instead she’s got a second home in a country club in Naples. Clay definitely didn’t mention this. He said she just talked about Wyndemere a lot. No way did she buy this in a day and move down here.”

  “No, you’re right. She had to have had this before.”

  Birds chirped in the palms overhead while Tandy wondered what to do next.

  “What now?” Kendra checked her hair in the visor mirror.

  “I guess we get out of the car.”

  “Sounds like a logical first step. Any idea what we’re going to say to her?”

  “Provided she doesn’t shoot us on sight, I think the words ‘I’m sorry’ are going to come out of my mouth about a hundred times.”

  “Good plan. Let’s go.” Kendra pushed open her door, and Tandy followed suit.

  They walked down the driveway and turned left onto a sidewalk whose edges were lined with more lush plants. A white metal gate greeted them at the end. It had no lock. To its right they could see the front door. Zelda was nowhere in sight.

  With a shaking hand, Tandy lifted the gate’s latch and walked through.

  * * *

  MEG STEPPED INTO water so hot that steam curled away from the line of it pouring out of the faucet. Mounds of bubbles grew where the water fell, pushing toward the back of the tub.

  She closed her eyes in absolute pleasure, then couldn’t decide which made her more happy at this moment—the warm water, the thousands of bubbles, or the knowledge that no child would be running through the door with a need for Mommy. Deciding it didn’t matter in the long run, she slowly eased down into the water. She could have sworn her body sighed its relief aloud.

  Careful to keep her hands out of the water, she took the paperback from a black wicker table nearby. A whole afternoon and evening lay ahead of her—time to read, time to relax, time to remember being a woman outside of mommy-hood. She briefly considered feeling guilty for finding this much joy in not having her kids around, but Joy had a point about every mom needing downtime.

  And this mom hasn’t had any in way too long.

  She arched her back and felt the water swirl around her. Settling into the contours of the tub, she opened a novel purchased eight months ago and held in preparation for a day just like today.

  Even her headache—almost always present these days— eased up and began to dissipate.

  See? Nothing serious is wrong with me. Just stressed out.

  She lifted a foot out of the water and used her toes to lift the hot water faucet higher. Warmth a notch above the rest of the water flooded her feet and began crawling up her legs. She let it run for a few seconds—until the water line reached the overflow drain of the tub—then turned off the faucet with her feet.

  The only sound that met her ears was that of rustling pages as she devoured the story in her hands.

  I used to love reading. I should make more time for this somehow. She pushed the thought away and dove back into the pages in her hands.

  Outside the bathroom window a high winter sun moved across the sky, noticed only peripherally by the woman lying beneath mountains of bubbles that fell into hills as the sun traversed its path.

  Halfway through the book, Meg realized the water had grown cold and sunshine no longer streamed through the window at her back. Instead it now came strongly through the panes on the opposite side of the room.

  She stood and set the novel back on the black wicker table, then stepped out of the bathtub. Goosebumps formed along her arms as she wrapped a thick terry cloth towel— one the kids didn’t get to use and that she normally saved for guests—around herself. It had to be dinnertime by now, but the house still sounded silent. Jamison must have decided to play eighteen holes rather than nine.

  Which was fine with her.

  She moved to the bedroom and slipped a nightgown over her head, not yet ready to give up the luxury of comfort. Real clothes—mom clothes—could be donned before the kids came home. Joy would call before she came; she always did. Meg would have plenty of time to make herself presentable again, to remove the vestiges of an afternoon totally devoid of productivity.

  Picking up the novel once again, she settled into her bed’s many pillows and clicked on a bedside lamp. Within minutes, she’d been transported back into another world, another story.

  She stayed there until the sound of a car in the garage pulled her back into her bedroom in Stars Hill. Jamison must be home. The thought of him made her smile. He was home and she didn’t need him to take over the kids so she could fix dinner or pick up the house or breathe for a minute.

  Rather than going to greet him, she stayed put. Let him come to her this time. He’d done that during their dating days in high school. No matter where she went, he’d come to find her and talk. He was the smartest guy she’d ever met, and she loved how they could talk for hours. She’d loved his desire to seek her out, to find her just to tell her something he’d heard on the news or some new thing he’d learned. The only “finding” these days was either for the car keys or one of the kid’s socks/coats/shoes/toys.

  “Well, hey there.” A mixture of pleasure and surprise flowed in Jamison’s voice. He stood in the bedroom doorway. “Playing the lady of luxury today?”

  “Joy offered to keep the kids the rest of the day.” She shifted and noted how his eyes followed her movement. “I just got out of the tub a little while ago.”

  He crossed the room in slow strides and stopped by the bed, his eyes never leaving her. The look that had driven her crazy during high school still kicked up her heartbeat now. A lazy smile spread across his face. “So you’re telling me we’re without children for the evening?”

  The mattress dipped when he sat on its edge and her body turned to him as a result. “Oh, I’d say we have at least a couple of hours.”

  “Mmm.” His eyes traced the lace edging of her neckline. “Nice nightgown. I forgot about this.” He ran a finger down the light blue silk.

  “I had too. Not very kid-friendly.”

  “No, but definitely husband-friendly.”

  She put her book on the nearby nightstand. When he leaned to kiss her, she met him halfway, more than ready to remember the wife part of womanhood.

  Twelve

  While Meg began her day of reconnection and rest, Kendra and Tandy stood before Zelda’s fro
nt door and rang the bell.

  Zelda made them wait long enough to wonder if they had come all this way for naught. Just as Tandy opened her mouth to tell Kendra they should go, Zelda appeared behind the glass door. She didn’t look happy, but she cracked it open. “You two making sure I’m far away from your dad?”

  “No, Zelda,” Tandy said. “We—that is, I—need to talk to you about that. If you could just give me—us—a couple of minutes, we’ll leave you alone after that if you prefer.”

  Zelda eyed them both, and Tandy held her breath and focused on looking apologetic.

  “If you came a thousand miles, I guess I can give you two minutes.” Zelda opened the door wide enough for them to enter.

  Tandy glanced around the foyer while Zelda closed the door behind them. It only took a few seconds, but that was enough to see a home full of artwork, furniture upholstered in light blues and browns, oriental rugs, and a glass door at the far end of the room leading out onto a patio. Beyond, golfers were making their way along the fairway.

  “Your home is lovely.”

  “Thank you.” Zelda walked past them, and the sisters followed. She waved them to a long couch situated in front of a fireplace framed in marble. “Your two minutes are dwindling rapidly.”

  “Right.” Tandy scrambled around for the right words, hooking her hair behind her ears. She clasped her hands in her lap to keep them from twitching about. “Look, Zelda, I messed up. I thought horrible things about you, and I refused to accept you into Daddy’s life, and I was a total brat, and I talked about you behind your back, and I made assumptions about your character that weren’t true and accused you of things in my mind that you had no intention of doing. I was wrong. I am so sorry, and I hope you can forgive me and come back to Stars Hill.” Tandy’s words came to an abrupt end, and she clamped her lips together. There, that hadn’t been too bad.

  “Hmm. I see.” Zelda’s shrewd gaze flitted from sister to sister and back again. “And you, Kendra? What are you doing here? Or are you just a traveling companion for your sister?”

  “No, I need to say I’m sorry too. I might not have thought or said all the bad things about you that Tandy did, but I jumped right on the bandwagon with her. I wanted to tell you though that most of this had nothing to do with you. Daddy’s not had a serious relationship since Momma, and well, we just weren’t ready for it. At least I know I wasn’t.”

  “Me, either,” Tandy chimed in. “She’s right, Zelda. This was less about you than it was about our inability to deal with your presence.”

  Zelda nodded. “I can understand that.”

  “You can?” A bit of the weight that had settled on Tandy’s chest in the driveway began to lighten.

  “Sure I can, just like you two can understand that I’ve got a life outside your daddy, that I had a first love just like he did, and that I can choose not to have four meddling, hard-to-please daughters of a boyfriend in my life.”

  Tandy swallowed. “You could choose that, of course.” The weight settled back on her chest. “But wouldn’t you be giving up the man you love?”

  Zelda looked away, and Tandy could see the muscles of her jaw working. “I’ve lost love before.”

  “Not by choice though, right?” Kendra scooted forward on the couch. “You lost your first husband to death, but Daddy’s in perfect health so far as we know. I get that Tandy and I have made this harder than it probably should have been. But would you really hurt Daddy just because his daughters are hardheaded and protective of him?”

  Zelda’s quick smile preceded her pointed finger. “I thought this one was the attorney, not you, Kendra.”

  “She was, but she left her arguing skills in Orlando.”

  “If y’all were blood sisters, I’d say lawyering runs in your family. As it is, I guess Jack and Marian raised you to present logical arguments.”

  “You’d be right on that point.”

  “So will you come back to Stars Hill?” Tandy dared to ask.

  Zelda sniffed. “I don’t know, Tandy. Your daddy doesn’t seem to have noticed that I’m gone.”

  “Oh, believe us, he’s noticed. He just isn’t sure what to do about it.”

  Tandy grimaced. “Other than yell at us so loud the roof shook.”

  “Brought you down a peg or two, did he?” Zelda laughed. “I suspected he might be headed your way after I ran into him at Darnell’s.”

  “He found us right after that. And I don’t think he’s been that mad since the night he found Ken and me parked uptown at midnight with a bunch of friends. And we weren’t even smoking; they were.”

  Zelda threw her head back and laughed louder than a bingo caller in a roomful of deaf folks. Tears of mirth formed in the corners of her eyes. “Whew, me, child.” She swiped at her face and got her breath. “I wish I had known your momma and daddy back when you girls were teenagers. I’ll bet they were a sight to behold.”

  “I don’t know about that, but they did manage to keep us in line. And that’s no small feat for four girls whose own birth parents didn’t want them.”

  Zelda rose and straightened her shirt. “I think what we could use here is a tall glass of iced tea. You girls thirsty?”

  “As a hiker in the Sahara,” Tandy answered, feeling the weight completely leave her chest.

  “Then I’ll see if I can’t hurry before you thirst to death.” Zelda bustled off toward the kitchen.

  Tandy waited until Zelda disappeared around the kitchen doorway, then turned to Kendra. “That went way better than I expected.”

  “I know. You think we can get her to come back with us today?”

  “Got me.” Tandy shrugged. “I’m still trying to figure out what she moved down here with a U-Haul. This stuff looks like it’s been here a while, not newly placed.”

  Kendra’s spiral curls brushed her shoulders as she looked this way and that, taking in the furniture. “You’ve got a point. I wonder if she packed up because she didn’t intend on coming back?”

  “Gosh, I hope not.”

  “Here we are.” Zelda walked around the corner, her hands gripping a white wood tray bearing three tall glasses of tea. She set it on the coffee table at Kendra’s knee and handed each sister a glass. “And I should tell you this house transmits sound better than Ma Bell ever dreamt of.” Zelda raised her glass to her lips, then winked before taking a drink.

  Tandy sputtered and nearly lost the gulp she’d just taken. “Um, excuse me?”

  Zelda swallowed and licked her lips. “Man, I love tea.” She turned her gaze back to Tandy. “Look, if there’s any hope of the three of us getting along, we’re going to need to lay a ground rule or two.”

  “Sounds fair. Difficult, but fair.”

  Zelda held up one short finger made stubbier by the giant topaz cutting off its base. “Rule number one: Stop trying to figure me out. If you want to know why I did or said something, just ask.”

  The sisters nodded.

  “Rule number two: If I do or say something that offends either of you, tell me as soon as you can. Don’t talk about it amongst yourselves or pull the other two into it. Chances are pretty high I’m not even aware I’ve upset you, so give me the benefit of the doubt and ask. I’ll do the same for you.”

  Ice clinked in the glass she held and she paused to swirl it around. “That’s it. Think you can abide by those rules?”

  They couldn’t nod fast enough.

  “Absolutely,” Tandy said. “As a matter of fact, we’ll start exercising them right now. Where’s the stuff you brought down from Stars Hill? Homer told me you packed up a U-Haul, but this place looks like it’s been furnished a while.”

  “That’s because it has. I packed up the Stars Hill place because I wasn’t sure if I’d be back. Truth be known, I doubted I’d ever be back. Got the furniture down here and had a boy put it in storage for me.”

  “So you still have your Stars Hill stuff?”

  “Sure.”

  Tandy jumped up. “Then let’s go pack
it back up and head home!”

  Kendra followed a half beat behind. “Yeah. If we start now, we can probably have it loaded by dark and then start toward Tennessee in the morning, right? What time does it get dark here?” Kendra consulted the lime green watch on her wrist. Sunlight caught its giant rhinestones and sent rainbows of color dancing off the walls.

  “Dark doesn’t matter. We’re not packing up my stuff.” Zelda sipped serenely from her glass.

  “Excuse me? I thought you forgave us.”

  “Oh, I did forgive you, Tandy. And you too, Kendra. But I don’t think I’ve forgiven your daddy yet.”

  Tandy sank back onto the couch. “Forgiven Daddy? What’d he do?”

  “It’s more what he didn’t do.”

  Kendra balled her fists and put them on her hips. “Okay, what did he not do?”

  “That’s none of your concern. It’s between me and your daddy. Y’all have done what you came to do. Now go out there and soak up some of that sunshine before you hit the road.”

  “Hit the road?” Tandy pulled back and squinted at Zelda. “Zelda, we came down here to apologize and take you back to Stars Hill.”

  “And one out of two ain’t bad. I’m a grown woman. If I want to get back to Stars Hill, I know where the road is.”

  “Why wouldn’t you just go back with us now? There’s no reason for you to stay here.”

  “Have you gone blind and deaf? Look around you.” Zelda waved her hand toward the back door. “I’m surrounded by warmth, sunshine, and quiet. I don’t think I’ve got it half bad.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t have Daddy. I thought you loved him.” Tandy crossed one leg and peered at Zelda in the same way she used to peer at liars on the witness stand. “If you love him, then you would want to get back to him as soon as possible. Not sit down here alone—sunshine or not.”

  Zelda wagged a finger. “There you go again, breaking rule number one. Don’t try to figure me out, Tandy.”

  Kendra threw up her hands. “She’s not trying to figure you out, Zelda.” Her loud voice bounced off the twenty-fivefoot walls. “She’s trying to make our daddy happy. And he’s happy when he’s with you. Though for the life of me I can’t figure out why right now.”