It was my turn to sputter now—from withholding my laughter. “Thank you for believing in me, Olivia. If you were here, I think you’d be happy with the results.”
“As I’m sure everyone will. Please make sure I receive all the invoices. Which reminds me . . . I haven’t seen the bill for your plane fare.”
I peered into the house through the glass garden door. Beth was putzing around the kitchen while I was occupied on the telephone.
I turned away, back to the shaded yard with its multi-colored planting beds. “No, Olivia. You won’t see that bill. This trip’s on me.”
After a few more minutes to let my mama know what was happening with Cooter’s house, I stepped back into the kitchen and tossed my phone in the bottom of my purse. Hopefully, it would die a painful death. The only person I wanted to speak to for the next day was sitting across the dinner table from me. And glaring.
Beth had warmed the food while I was on the phone, and though the wonderful aromas filled the room, when I took a bite I found my phone conversation had stolen my appetite. After I chugged my first glass of wine I refilled my glass and met Beth’s eyes. “Okay, ask.”
She propped her elbows on the edge of the table and laughed. “I have a list by now.”
“Jeez. Let me drink this glass too, then.” I did, and the dark red liquid went down way too smoothly. I poured a third and swirled the merlot in my glass. The bottle was nearly empty already. I pointed to it. “We’ll need another one of those.” She got up and retrieved one from the pantry.
I removed the cork to give it time to breathe, then went back to pushing my dinner around my plate. “You always were a great friend.”
“What can I say? You always needed one.”
What could I say? I always did. “Okay, deputy, no drama tonight. What’s on your list of questions?”
She quirked a brow. “You want to talk about Deke or you want to talk about Olivia?”
“I’d rather not talk about either of them. Are you really giving me a choice?”
She took a sip and wagged her head. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. Start talking. And don’t stop until I know it all.”
I rose and poked my head into the pantry, then into the refrigerator, then resumed my seat at the table. Beth’s eyebrow flew up again.
“Making sure there’s Gatorade and aspirin for our hangovers, and bacon and eggs for breakfast. We may still be sitting here.”
“Which again begs the question . . . Why would you want to spend the night—and subsequently, breakfast—with me instead of Deke?”
My heart couldn’t decide if it wanted to race or plummet at the idea of being separated from Deke now that we had been reunited. “Can I just say that we spent some wonderful time together but he and I both know it can’t go anywhere so it’s better to just let it drop? Are we supposed to try the long-distance relationship thing? I don’t see that working out. Am I supposed to go back to California and wait for him to follow me, pledging his undying love?”
The dreamy look Beth wore came naturally to her. As natural as the disbelieving grunt that erupted from my lips.
“Beth, the more time I spend with him, the more I believe I was right to leave. It led to him leaving, and look what he did for himself. He’s wonderful! He’s brilliant, and empathetic, and caring. He may have been all that if he stayed, but he wouldn’t have the career he has now.” This was a certainty. “And you know I’m not talking about his career as a teacher. I’m talking about the work he does with automotive technology.”
Beth’s dreamy look was back. “You always did have a crush on him. For as long as I can remember.”
Yeah, okay. I could safely admit that. “I did, didn’t I? He always was cute. And nice to me when others treated me like trailer trash. He helped my mama plant her geraniums the spring before she left. It was the last time my daddy was nice to him . . .” I let my voice trail off as I rose to throw what was left of my dinner in the trash. My appetite was gone.
Beth stood and followed me to scrape her plate. “I just got a new face mask that’s supposed to give my tired skin new life.” She pinched her cheeks. “Let’s try it out, then take the rest of the wine into my walk-in closet and you can help me pick out something to wear on Tuesday while we trash Olivia and her evil ways?”
I gestured toward her attire with a Groucho Marx leer as I mimed wagging a cigar between my fingers. “And maybe you can slip your sexiness into something more comfortable?”
She lost no time shedding clothes along the hallway as I followed behind. “Sure. And you can show off whatever designer outfit you brought to wear to pay your respects to your daddy.”
I let my arms drop to my sides. Crap! Chances were good I’d get the stink eye once she got a look at the dress I brought along for Cooter’s funeral.
Minutes later, Beth reclined on the floor of her walk-in closet, dressed in her cotton underwear and a pair of beige designer studded sandals we picked up in the garment district last summer, surrounded by every item of clothing she owned. But it wasn’t her wardrobe that had captured what was left of her focus. It wasn’t the glass of red she held, either—her fourth. It was my dress that she grasped in her free hand in blatant disbelief. And her inability to form coherent speech.
“Dixie . . .” I’d run for a glass of water when she first dropped to the floor, and shoved it in her mask-encrusted face. She waved it away. “Bless your heart, darlin’, but this simply won’t do.” She gave my dress a one-handed shake, then held it before her as if hoping it had magically changed. “You understand that, don’t you? You’re pulling my leg, right? This is your idea of a practical joke?” She drew the dress in to her chest, her eyes beseeching me.
She was taking this far worse than I’d expected. I gave it, and then her, a narrowed glance. “Still planning to wear that, Beth. It’s a pretty color, it’s not slutty, it’s—”
“Red! Cheese and rice, Dixie, your dress is red! You can’t wear that. What were you thinking?”
I bought it to dance at Cooter’s funeral, that’s what I was thinking. But after only a few days back in Moreover, the idea didn’t sit as well. Dammit! I stuck my chin out. “It’s flattering, and I hate black.” I reached for the wadded bundle. “Now, give it back before you tear it and I have to show up naked. That’ll give you a scandal, all right!” I tugged at the fabric in her hands.
She yanked back.
Riiiip!
Her eyes went as big as the peonies planted out back. Then she slumped forward in a fit of giggles.
For a moment, I could only stare at the dress in my hands. It seemed fine. But the jagged sleeve that dangled from Beth’s fingers told a different story. Laughter bubbled up in my throat, and the corners of my mouth wanted to curve up in a frivolous grin. How many times—how many hours—had we spent being silly and foolish and young. This reminded me so much of those times. This felt good.
“I liked that dress!”
“I liked that dress, too, but it wasn’t right. Just like that prissy business suit you’re wearing to our pajama party isn’t right. Don’t you own anything casual or fun? You used to live in jeans and boots.” She assessed me head to toe from her position on the floor. “Do all your shoes have pointy heels? They might be good for taking out a mugger, but other than a recent outbreak of petty vandalisms, we don’t have much crime around here.”
I considered everything I had packed away in my luggage down the hall and gave my hair a toss to cool my neck. It was warm in the closet. “You already know I own a pair of jeans, even if they are of the designer and well-embellished variety.” And I might have a dirty little secret buried in my closet back home, but it wasn’t quite time to share that with anyone.
“One pair of jeans. I’m not impressed. You must have something else that doesn’t make people think you have a pole permanently lodged up your butt. Cute little dresses or shorts, maybe? What do you wear when you go out with your girlfriends? You need to bust out the fun stuff around here
. And your boots.” She made a slashing motion. “No more high heels.”
I drew my eyebrows together. “I wear yoga pants around the house; does that count? I even wore a sundress the other day.”
She seemed to consider it. “It’s a start. But seriously, you can’t wear those suits all the time. They’re too stuffy for you. And if you do, stop that!” I did wear my suits every day. My clients expected to work with a professional. Even though they usually acted like teenagers.
The nudge I gave her with my toe was meant to annoy her, as she’d been gradually irking me with her poking and nagging. “Hell, Beth, you’re pretty bossy when you’ve been drinking. I don’t remember that.” Or maybe we never got wasted before. She tossed off the layer of clothing she was buried under and struggled to her feet.
Her arm was pointing me out of the little room before she was completely upright. “Go put on something that doesn’t make me think of you sitting at a fancy desk doing work you hate; I’ll search through my clothes and find something to replace your torn dress.”
Her words stopped me as I left the closet I’d kill to have. “I love my job. Madyline and I worked hard to build up our clientele.” Beth lowered her chin and raised her brow. What did I care whether she believed me? “You won’t find anything for me to wear in here.” The notion was preposterous. I was at least four inches taller than her, and the last time we shared even a bra size we also shared Agnes Philburn’s sixth-grade classroom. But the business suit I wore to her house for a casual evening just seemed starchy. Maybe she had something more casual I could slip into. On a lark, I started sorting through the clothes strewn around, then flipped through those still hanging from the rods. Beth could have been in Tahiti for all the notice I gave her.
Although . . . I pulled out a shocking black lace dress that my straightlaced friend would have to molt at the end of her evening, and barely covered the goods. “Hey, Beth, bend over in this and every biddy with a wagging tongue will know you’re not wearing panties.” I demonstrated and her face flooded to the color of my tattered dress, which now lay at the top of a discard pile. Gripping the neck of the wine bottle, she scrambled to her feet and snatched the hanger from my hand.
“Put that back! It’s my secret weapon.” She spun it on the hanger to reveal the barely-there straps and plunging back, then clasped it against her and shimmied everything from her shoulders to her toes. The dress screamed fuck me, no foreplay required. “One day I’ll find the nerve to wear this dress and the man of my dreams will fall in lust with me.”
I gaped. She was serious. “You don’t need a hooker dress, or almost dress, to get up close and personal with a guy’s junk, but I admit I like your plan.” I reached for the hanger but she drew it back. “I think I need to inspect the arsenal again. You know, quality control.” She shoved the dress to the back of the closet. I reached for it yet again—what woman didn’t admire pure seduction?—but she slapped my hand away and pulled out a slinky purple dress that probably hit her mid-calf. It had a square neckline and cap sleeves—cute, but nobody would ever mistake it for seductive. “Here, try this.”
I scrunched my face into a scowl and stripped off my blouse that was apparently too prissy anyway. “Oh, great! I thought my charity days were long behind me.”
She gave my bra strap a snap, which fit right in with the twelve-year-old theme of this sleepover. “Shut up before I hand you used underwear, too.”
As if I’d be caught dead wearing her granny panties. By the time I had my bra adjusted to allow for the crisscrossing straps at the back of the dress, and dealt with a text from Drew and another call from Olivia, who knew no boundaries at all, Beth had her closet back to rights and was chattering about spending the following morning out in her Sunfish. And there was no way I’d be squeezing into Beth’s pretty violet dress. Her heart was always in the right place, but who could borrow clothes from a best friend who was two sizes smaller? I would manage just fine with one of my suits.
“A nice, quiet day sailing with no cell service and no other human contact sounds like the perfect way to spend my last day in town.” It should, anyway. Yet even as I spoke, the words twisted inside me and made me question my decision. Maybe spending my last day with Beth wasn’t what I really wanted. Maybe I should call Deke and relive these last few days trying out a few more horizontal surfaces. In his house . . . at the lakeshore . . . even in the bed of his truck—
Ah, hell. Beth was pulling out swimsuits. At least I had one of those tucked away in my suitcase and didn’t have to worry about her offering to loan me one. The idea of sharing clothes drew my eye to my red sheath that lay in a heap, and then to the purple dress that was offered in tribute but rejected.
And then it drew my imagination to Deke peeling it off and tossing it aside.
Tuesday morning arrived, and with it, the hour of Cooter’s service. Though I only had a few details to confirm on Monday morning, Beth jumped in to help finalize the plans for today’s event, and then we spent the afternoon sailing and relaxing in the sun. By the time we had her little boat hanging from her garage rafters again, I hadn’t seen Deke in over twenty-four hours. I’d found myself lapsing into memories of him throughout the day—some of this weekend, and some from an earlier time of our lives—and missing him terribly. It was time for me to leave before I made a decision we’d both regret.
The church I chose was Baptist of course, and I’d been forewarned by Mama that only Eastlake Baptist would do. It was newer, and naturally we’d be in need of the larger sanctuary. It was tempting to make the arrangements at First Baptist since we couldn’t possibly need more than a few seats, but then came the sadistic and rather pleasurable idea of acquiescing to her wishes if only to prove her foolish. Eastlake Baptist, it was.
The large parking lot encompassed the entire block on the south side of the building, and the sun glared brightly off the windshields of the vehicles filling it. I cruised the lot twice before I spotted an older Lincoln pulling out, and I managed to snag its space. A steady flood of humanity streamed toward the wide wooden doors and I joined the flow.
“Yoo-hoo!” The yelling from behind me caught my attention before I reached the edge of the asphalt. Elsie Hoffer hustled toward me, waving me down with a hanky. I stopped to wait, then waited again once she caught up so she could stash the handkerchief in her handbag and catch her breath. “Quite a crowd today! I’m parked clear in the back forty, I swear.” She clutched my forearm and bent at the waist to wheeze, then beamed as she perused the packed lot. I got her moving forward again. “George would be pleased that so many are thinking of him today.”
I halted, which nearly caused Elsie to trip over my foot. “Mrs. Hoffer, all these people aren’t here for Cooter’s funeral. There must be something happening down in the basement. That’s where everyone is going.”
The sidewalk we walked along lined the immense tree-shaded lawn. She pursed her lips in my direction, then added a huff as we shuffled along with the crowd. “Of course they’re here to honor George.” My skepticism no doubt telegraphed clear to the next county, and her even tone turned impatient. “Dixie, George Barnes was important to this town. The church wouldn’t dare disrespect him that way.” Mitch Davis, the postal worker, and the one person who had the pulse of the town, found a place in line just behind us. Like a hawk snatching at prey with its talons, she seized the sleeve of his navy jacket.
“Mitchell, what do you know about something else going on down in the community room just now?” He regarded her with wide eyes. With her fists perched on her hips and her temper ready to fly, even I took a step back.
“Now, Miss Elsie, I was told today’s bingo was cancelled down in the community room on account of Cooter’s arrangements. Ain’t nothing set up downstairs that I know of.” He screwed up his face. “Don’t it seem offensive to double-book a church with a funeral in progress?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I was explaining to Dixie here!” Elsie gave one sharp nod of vindication a
s she shuffle-stepped a few steps closer to the entry. Mitch disappeared.
I was officially in the Twilight Zone. Honor. Important. These were not words I’d ever heard used in a sentence along with Cooter’s name. My brain was misfiring, and even with my pace slowed to that of a slug, it made no sense by the time I neared the chapel entrance. Beth came forward from inside to greet me, took both my hands in hers, then wrapped me in an embrace. Her gaze perused my outfit head to toe—periwinkle linen suit and go-to nude pumps—as she pulled away, our hands still clasped again at arms’ length. “You look really nice.”
I smirked. We both knew it wasn’t what I intended to wear. She hooked our elbows and led me through the open front doors. I halted in the vestibule near Gus, the town’s maintenance man. He wore his signature overalls and plaid shirt, but had exchanged his work boots for dress shoes for the occasion.
“Miss Dixie.” Gus noticed me standing behind him and offered his hand. I lifted mine to him and it was easily engulfed in his large palm. “So sorry for your loss, ma’am. Old George sure will be missed at the Rotary. He was a fine humanitarian, and a hard worker when it came time for our annual fundraising campaign.”
I forced my lips to curve up in a smile and Gus moved away after a few moments of uncomfortable trite comments. The rabbit hole was nearby; it must be. I’d fallen through it and Alice and the Mad Hatter would show up any minute.
Beth gave my arm a squeeze. “Looks like great attendance.” She seemed especially pleased. I was still waiting for the cheering and carrying on from below, as if that wouldn’t be at all distracting. Because Mitch must have gotten bad information.
I took a look around. “So I’ve heard.”
Heart of Dixie (Moreover #1) Page 16