Sweet Carolina Morning

by Susan Schild

  “Sleeker. More streamlined,” Dessie clarified. “It’d give us all more room, some privacy, and we both thought it’d be easier to maneuver.”

  “Class C it is,” Dottie said, slamming the meat tenderizing hammer down on the table so hard that the cobbler bowls jumped and coffee sloshed in the mugs.

  Still wincing, Linny reached over and took the hammer from her Mom. “Good job leading the meeting, Mama,” she said with an encouraging smile.

  Dessie made a show of pulling the Class C brochures from her purse, and the four of them slid their chairs in closer to look as she spread them out on the table. “I talked to the RV rental place and these are similar to the Class C models they have available.”

  Ruby touched the picture on the brochure with her peachy nail. “Enjoy all the amenities of home! Ideal for ACC football, NASCAR race weekends, and hunting trips!”

  With assorted brows raised and heads cocked, the three women studied Ruby.

  “It says right here, sillies!” Ruby pointed to the six point font of the copy underneath the photo of the unusually attractive group of sporty-looking friends, grilling and chuckling beside their gleaming Rental RV. “And look,” she jabbed at another photo. “Look at that darling hot tub!”

  “Ours will be a more basic model unless we pay an arm and a leg, but see how these walls slide out and give you so much more room?” Dessie pointed to a picture of a living area expanded out much wider than the sides of the RV.

  Linny peered more closely at the photos. The bed space tucked neatly above the cab reminded her of the cozy fun of sleeping in blanket tents in the living room with her sister Kate when they were girls. She looked at the other members of the SWAT team, chattering with excitement as they pointed out the small washer/dryer and clever bed that pulled out from under the dining room table. She felt a frisson of excitement and grinned. The road trip that she’d thought of as a daughterly duty might just shape up to be a heck of a lot of fun.

  * * *

  The next morning, Linny met best friend, attorney Mary Catherine, at Jumpin’ Joe’s—one of the area’s only coffee shops and a hot spot for the morning commuters. Her friend was waiting for her at a booth in the back. Looking sharp as usual in a crisp white high-collared blouse and a double breasted black blazer, Mary Catherine frowned as she stared at the phone on the table in front of her. She moved the salt and pepper shakers around.

  Linny caught Mary Catherine’s eye, and gave her a little wave.

  Her friend broke into a smile, rose and gave her a hug that smelled faintly of lemon verbena. “Hey, married lady,” Mary Catherine said as she plunked back down in her seat.

  “Hey yourself,” Linny said smiling and picked up the menu to give it a quick glance.

  Mary Catherine waved a hand. “I already ordered for us.”

  The pink-cheeked waitress in the bell skirted vintage dress slid two coffees, a bowl of fresh fruit and a basket of muffins on the table. “Muffins are hot,” she cautioned.

  Linny’s mouth watered as she eyed the supposedly healthy lemon raspberry muffins that she and Mary Catherine loved. “Ah.” She breathed in the rich aroma of butter, cinnamon and freshly-baked bread. She dumped cream in her coffee and took a swallow. Heaven.

  “We need to talk fast.” Mary Catherine pointed at her watch. “I have to get back to the office to get people lined up to interview.” She slumped in her seat and sighed. “Before we talk about your marital bliss, my office manager quit yesterday. Left at lunch and never came back. Resigned via text,” she groused, holding out her phone for Linny to read.

  The office manager had simply written, I’m not coming back.

  “Oh, dear,” Linny took another sip of coffee and tried to look surprised. Her best friend since fourth grade, Mary Catherine could be brusque. But she did more than her share of pro-bono work, made quiet donations to The Boys and Girls Club, and was a champion for victims of domestic violence. Mary Catherine had a heart the size of the Atlantic Ocean.

  Her friend nabbed a muffin from the basket and peeled off the wrapper. Sounding plaintive, she asked. “So why does my staff keep leaving me?”

  “Because you don’t say hello to them in the morning?” Linny suggested.

  “I do, too,” Mary Catherine said, looking injured.

  Linny shook her head. “No, you don’t. James, that nice young paralegal who used to work for you, said he’d say good morning and you wouldn’t say a word back. Regularly.”

  “Huh.” Mary Catherine paused for a moment, and then looked chagrined. “Sometimes I think good morning, but maybe it never makes it out of my mouth.”

  “Maybe,” Linny said, taking a bite of the warm muffin. Yum.

  “When I’ve got a case on my mind, my own husband says he can say something to me and I don’t even hear him. I’m not ignoring him, just don’t hear him.” Mary Catherine took a too-large bite of her muffin and had to swig some coffee to help slide it down.

  Linny measured an inch of space between her thumb and forefinger. “Could you be just a tiny bit more personable with your next office manager?”

  “So I need to walk around smiling like this?” Mary Catherine gave an awful toothy-looking fake smile.

  “Maybe not that smile, but smiling once in a while wouldn’t hurt you.” Linny nodded encouragingly and slathered butter on the muffin to make up for its supposed healthiness. “Ask about their weekend, how their kids are, that sort of thing.”

  “I don’t care about their weekends or their kids,” Mary Catherine grumbled. “I just need them to excel at their work.”

  “But you want them to stick around,” Linny said quietly.

  “Stupid interpersonal skills,” Mary Catherine said darkly. “You know how I am.”

  Linny did. Mary Catherine spent her childhood in trailer parks with a beer-drinking-party-girl mama and no father on the scene. The family would stay in a place for a few months and have to slip out in the middle of the night because the rent was due and the money was gone. Her friend trusted only a few people, but if you were lucky enough to be one of the few, she’d take a bullet for you. Linny speared a piece of melon from the bowl. “Maybe you could warn the next person you hire. Let them know what to expect, and not to take it personally.”

  “Ah, a disclaimer. Good idea.” Mary Catherine put her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “What about you, girl? What’s new? How was the honeymoon?”

  Aware of the gossip mongers in Willow Hill, Linny leaned forward and spoke quietly. “The honeymoon was wonderful, but we had to cut it short because Vera and Chaz were fighting so badly that Neal was upset.”

  Mary Catherine raised her eyes to heaven. “Gracious. Two big babies.”

  “Uh-huh,” Linny said, absurdly grateful to be understood so quickly. Her friend knew all about divorce wars because of her family law practice. “And without running it by me, Jack told Vera he’d pinch hit for an MIA Chaz and take Neal out to Tucson to see an observatory.”

  Mary Catherine patted her mouth with the napkin. “So Neal’s staying with you until . . . ?”

  “Until things over at that household simmer down,” Linny said, with an inward shudder, remembering how the boy could be when he was in one of his moods.

  Mary Catherine raised a brow. “If they do.”

  Linny grimaced. What if the fighting continued? Jack might end up having to take legal action. Her stomach tightened, knowing from Mary Catherine just how ugly a custody battle could get. And Chaz was an attorney, so he’d likely be a bear of an opponent. And what if Neal did end up staying with them? Was she really ready for a full-time, sometimes openly hostile stepson? She sighed. “Neal was sweet as pie when Jack first picked him up, but he’s started acting up. Last night, Jack got a work-related call after we’d just finished supper. Neal’s regular chore is to clear the dishes and load the dishwasher, but because his Dad wasn’t there to tell him to hop to, he just sat there at the kitchen table and started playing games on his cell. Jack stayed o
n the phone, and I was putting away food, so I asked Neal to help. He ignored me.” She felt a hot flush of anger just thinking about it. “Just pretended he hadn’t heard. I asked again, and he just looked at me and said, ‘No.’ When Jack got off the phone, I told him about it. Neal interrupted me, shouting, ‘She can’t boss me. She’s not my mother,’ and ran to his room and slammed the door. And Jack just . . .” she trailed off, shaking her head.

  “Let him,” Mary Catherine finished Linny’s sentence

  “Yup,” Linny said, sounding more hurt than she wanted to. “I talked to Jack about backing me up, but he reminded me of how rough things have been for Neal lately.”

  “They are rough for him right now, but you basically just need Jack’s backup and to toughen up.” Mary Catherine gave her a shrewd look and popped a last bite of muffin in her mouth. “The mess with Vera and Chaz is likely to stir up bad behavior in Neal, but in general, teenaged boys are like jackals. They’ll turn on you with bared teeth, tell you they hate your guts, and ten minutes later, they’ll ask you to fix them a grilled cheese sandwich.”

  Jackals. Wow. Linny nodded, discouraged.

  Her friend eyed her, as if she was trying to decide if Linny was ready for more stark truth. “Not sure if you remember all this, but Dare liked to pee out his bedroom window, crashed our car when he took it for a spin at thirteen, and accidentally sank Mike’s brand new bass boat.” She gave a matter of fact nod. “I think Neal is a more sensible boy, though.”

  Linny groaned. “What have I gotten myself into?”

  “He’s got stability with the two of you, and that goes a long way.” Mary Catherine took a last sip of coffee. “Just don’t take it personally. You need to muddle through and it will all work out.”

  But Linny wasn’t sure it would all work out, she thought, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. She was also still off-balance from Jack’s guess-who’s-going-to-Tucson announcement. She gave herself mental shake. Enough about her drama. “Oh, and I’m going on an RV trip to Dollywood and Graceland with Mama and her girlfriends.”

  “Fun,” Mary Catherine said, looking thoughtful. “Might be a perfect time for a getaway. They’ll appreciate you all the more when you get home.”

  Linny nodded, and rummaged in her purse for her wallet. “How’s my favorite godson?”

  “Dare is well.” Mary Catherine signaled for the check. “Sent me pictures of a new girlfriend. Her name’s Breeze and she wears long flowing dresses—nothing like his usual preppy girls with snooty names like Sloane or Teague. Last one was called Atherton. Thank goodness she’s gone.” Mary Catherine wrinkled her nose as she pulled bills from her wallet.

  Linny decided not to point out that Dare’s name sounded snooty, too, even though he was just named after the only normal man in Mary Catherine’s rip-roaring family—a music teacher uncle. “Send that fellow of yours a big ole hug for me,” Linny said, as they rose.

  “I will,” Mary Catherine promised. “And pat Jack and Neal for me.”

  Linny grinned at her friend and they walked to their cars.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Susan Schild has a master’s degree from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Her work as a psychotherapist and corporate trainer has helped inform her characters, making them vividly lifelike. She lives with her family in Clayton, North Carolina. Readers can visit her website at SusanSchild.com.

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  Dear Readers,

  Thank you for reading Sweet Carolina Morning and for spending time with me in Willow Hill.

  I’d like to ask for your help. Readers’ reviews are the most powerful way to get the word out about my books. While the book is fresh on your mind, would you please take a few minutes and write a review about Sweet Carolina Morning on your retail book site or Goodreads?

  I am so grateful for your support and can’t wait to hear how you like the next book in the Willow Hill series, Sweet Southern Hearts.

  My best wishes to you all,

  Susan Schild