“Have any of his dates worked out yet?” Ella asked.
“No, we’ve had very bad luck so far,” said Macy, and drew in her chin. “I don’t understand this. I think she meant to send it to someone else.”
Greer peered over her shoulder. “‘Good luck!’” she read out loud. “‘I hope it works out.’”
Macy shook her head. “I guess she means she hopes her date with Deacon works out. I should write her back.”
“Wait.” Ella’s eyebrows shot up. “Let’s see if she texts anything else to you first.”
Macy didn’t even get a chance to reply to Ella before another text came through from Rena. “‘Peter said he doesn’t mind at all,’” Macy read out loud, “‘especially since you’re making such a big donation.’”
“That’s weird,” said Greer. “I wonder if she means Peter Donovan, who runs the museum’s foundation. And who did Rena really mean to send this text to?”
“I have no idea,” said Macy. “I’m really confused now.” She texted: I’m not sure what you mean, Rena.
Rena wrote back: Peter’s calling Macy in about fifteen minutes. He’ll coax her to come down and accept the free membership. Meanwhile, I’ll twist my ankle and scoot.
Twist her ankle?
Scoot?
Macy’s heart beat so hard, she could hardly speak. “Something really fishy is going on. I think Rena meant to send this text to Deacon. Could you read this to everyone?” She handed the phone to Greer with a trembling hand and sat down.
“Sure.” Greer read the message out loud.
There was silence.
“Wow,” said Ella. “Sounds like Rena’s planning on pretending to twist her ankle so she can leave the RKW.”
“I think Deacon is bribing people again to get his way,” said Macy. “I should have known. My gut told me at the very beginning he was trouble when he bribed y’all to leave the office.”
“What’s going on, exactly?” asked Miss Thing. “Is he trying to make it so you show up on this date instead of Rena?”
“It appears that way.” Macy’s cell phone rang. “It’s the RKW.”
“Take it,” said Greer.
It was Peter Donovan. He told her that her name had been submitted in a lottery at their last fundraising dinner, and they’d picked the winner that morning. She’d won a free lifetime membership to the RKW. “But I need you to come right now to pick it up,” Peter said. “Your friends Deacon and Rena are here. They watched our director pick a name out of a hat and volunteered to pick up the prize for you, but we can’t do that. Sorry.”
“Peter,” Macy said, “I’m sorry. But I have to decline the prize.”
“Really?” He sounded like his collar was too tight.
“Yes,” said Macy, “because I know full well Deacon Banks arranged this, and I’m not playing his game. Please tell him so. And tell Rena I’m so sorry she twisted her ankle.”
“She did?” Peter sounded concerned. “She looked just fine a minute ago.”
“You might want to ask her about that ankle,” Macy said. “Good-bye, Peter.” And she hung up.
“Oh my,” said Miss Thing.
Macy looked around at her friends’ concerned faces. “Deacon was obviously working not only with Rena but with Barney, Tiffany, and Louisa. Somehow he managed to get me instead of them on each of those dates.”
“Because he’s crazy about you,” Miss Thing said.
“Obviously,” added Ella.
“And your friends love you so much, they cooperated,” said Greer. “I know it looks really bad, but don’t be too mad, Macy.”
“Of course, I’m angry,” Macy said quietly. “I feel manipulated.” She took a deep breath. “The worst of it is, he’s paying me a hefty sum to set him up with these women.”
“And then intentionally sabotaging the dates.” Miss Thing shook her head. “I can see why you’re upset. But it’s flattering too, sweetie.”
Macy shook her head. “I don’t feel flattered. I feel duped.”
“He’s sure to come by and try to explain,” said Greer.
“With a huge bouquet of flowers, I’ll bet,” said Ella.
“His intentions were good,” said Miss Thing. “Are you going to forgive him, Macy? I hope you do. No one is perfect all the time.”
Macy couldn’t speak for a moment. There was a big lump in her throat. “How can I forgive him?” she finally said. “He’s broken my trust.”
“But he did it because he likes you,” said Ella. “I’m not saying that’s right, but it’s understandable.”
“He was desperate,” Greer added. “You’re not easy, Macy. You do realize that, don’t you? You’re intimidating. And you’re stubborn. You were holding him at arm’s length. He was being creative. I actually admire that in him.”
“I get it,” said Macy. “But none of that excuses him going behind my back.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Excuse me, ladies. I want to go home.”
They all hugged her tight and begged to go with her.
“No. I just want to be alone. But thanks.” She felt empty, as if all the time she’d spent with Deacon was a joke. The whole time, he’d been pulling strings behind the scenes—so what was actually real between them? What could be real?
Nothing.
* * *
Deacon did come by to find Macy. He left Rena and Peter at the museum and went straight to Two Love Lane. The women said she’d gone home and wasn’t in a good state. He figured as much, and inside he felt helpless and angry—at himself. He stopped by Harris Teeter, picked up a huge bouquet of pastel roses in varying degrees of pink, yellow, and cream, and rang and rang the doorbell at Macy’s fake door. He texted too.
But she wouldn’t answer.
He was screwed. He knew it. Inside, he felt hollow, as if a big piece of his heart was missing. But he wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t.
“I have to explain why I did it,” he told George in private back at Aunt Fran’s house. “It’s because I really care about her. I like her more than any woman I’ve ever met. She’s special. And I wanted to spend time with her.”
“I get it,” George said, “and I egged you on, didn’t I? I was so damned glad to see you interested in someone! But obviously Macy feels you forced the situation. She probably thinks you’ve been bossy and manipulative. Hindsight’s twenty-twenty.”
“Hell, I don’t know what to say to make it right,” Deacon said. “Maybe I’ve messed things up so badly she’ll never talk to me again.”
The awfulness of that possibility kept him up all night. The next morning, he waited by her front doorstep and caught her going to work, Oscar in the tote bag on her arm.
“I don’t want to speak to you,” she said, and looked straight ahead.
He put his hands in his coat pockets and kept pace with her. “I’m sorry, Macy. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Everyone just wanted it to work out between us, is all.”
“Everyone?” She still wouldn’t look at him.
“Yes. The ladies and I. My dates.”
“They were all in on it,” she said without emotion, which was scarier than her acting angry.
“Yes,” he replied. “Penelope too. She’s the one who gave me the idea.”
For the first time, she hesitated. “Penelope?”
“The night of the boat parade. I confided in her that I didn’t want to go out with anyone in Charleston but you. And she came up with the idea, which I gladly latched onto. So please don’t blame her. It’s my fault.”
Macy sighed. “I can’t believe this.”
“It was meant to be innocent,” he said.
“Lying to me is not innocent.”
“I’m really sorry. It made sense to me at the time. I knew it was a gamble. But I can see now I shouldn’t have taken it.”
They crossed Broad Street together. How different it was this time from the last time, when he’d held her hand! They might as well have been a million miles apart.
“So that nig
ht at Louisa’s,” she said quietly, “you knew before we got there that Louisa was fine. And yet we still went.”
“I didn’t know what else to do. You were on a mission.”
She winced. “And then we made love.” She gave a short laugh. “I guess you felt your plan was working pretty well.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “You make it sound so tawdry. It wasn’t like that. I liked you! I wanted to be with you. We never planned that part out. Ever.”
“You wanted to be with me at any cost?” she asked him. “Even if it meant losing my trust?”
“I see now that I was arrogant,” he said. “But I want to remind you of one thing. It doesn’t excuse my behavior, but I think it matters in the big scheme of things.”
“What?”
“I told you several times in no uncertain terms I wanted to back out of our arrangement. But you would have none of it. You kept insisting you wanted to find me a soulmate. You also tried to lay a guilt trip on me about my aunt and her expectations. You wanted to be my matchmaker—at all costs! Why? What motivated you? The money? Your pride? And how do you think I felt about that after I’d been so honest with you about my feelings for you?”
She hesitated. “I-I’m sorry.”
“I felt I had no choice but to try anything I could to get your attention,” he said. “I’m not saying what I did behind your back was right. But my heart was in the right place. Was yours, Macy, when you kept advising me to go out with those women? I wonder if you were more worried about checking another client off your list than actually seeing me for who I am—a guy who really likes you. A guy who made it very clear he didn’t want to be your client, almost from the get-go.”
“My heart”—her voice rose, and Oscar retreated into his nylon cave—“was always in the right place. I cared about you. I did. I didn’t want to be selfish—”
“How is it selfish to allow yourself to like me back? To let me come to your house after what we did at Louisa’s and make love to you again? How is it selfish to let yourself be happy?”
“I allow myself to be happy,” she insisted, but her voice cracked.
“You do? You could have fooled me. You’re always doing everyone else’s bidding.”
Her jaw looked square and hard. “You should really go now. I’m returning your check.”
“I don’t want it. You earned that money. You put your professional life above your personal one. I can appreciate the sacrifice that took. I do it myself all the time, but I’m not going to anymore.”
“I don’t want your money,” she said. “Our contract is invalid.”
“Fine,” he said. “Donate it to Toys for Tots.”
They came up to Roastbusters.
“I can’t simply get over this, Deacon,” she said quietly. “You knocked me off my game not only personally but professionally.”
“I’m really sorry. I never wanted that to happen.”
She blinked back tears. “You were my client. I should have listened to your wishes instead of plowing ahead. I’m sorry too.”
The stared at each other.
“You should go,” she whispered.
“All right.” He turned on his heel and left her.
Oscar meowed, long and loud. Hearing that broke Deacon’s heart somehow. But he wouldn’t turn around. Macy had made it clear where she stood.
“Deacon!” she called after him.
For a split-second hope flamed in his heart. He stopped and turned around.
“Feel free to come to the Toys for Tots party,” she said, blinking fast. “I really appreciate your buying all those bikes.”
“Aunt Fran can handle it,” he said.
“And”—she swallowed hard—“we never made a final decision on the food samples for the colonel’s contest. Which of the three did you like the best?”
Deacon had done the shopping, and Macy had assembled ingredients. He told her his own preference in as few words as possible. “But choose your favorite.”
“That was my favorite too.” Her face was somber. “So I guess we’re set.”
“I won’t be around for it.”
“You won’t?”
“No. If we win or lose, it’s all on you.” He shrugged and crossed the street.
He might as well have crossed the Rubicon. There was no turning back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Macy got a call the very next day from Penelope.
“It’s my fault,” Penelope said. “Please forgive Deacon.”
Macy gripped the phone. “I don’t want to talk about it, Penelope. Thank you for caring about me. I know you meant well.”
“So did he,” Penelope said.
“He misled me,” Macy explained patiently. “Did he ask you to call me?”
“Absolutely not. He can fight his own battles. I just happened to see him at Harris Teeter and asked him how things were going, and he told me.”
“He’d better not get the other girls to call me.”
“He’s not like that,” said Penelope. “He’s a stand-up guy, Macy. I’m sorry how things worked out between you two.”
“Thank you for thinking of me,” Macy said.
“Or course.” Penelope hesitated. “I feel terrible about this.”
“Please don’t.” Macy suppressed a sigh.
“He’s the real deal, Macy. Don’t give up on him, okay?”
“There’s nothing to give up on,” she said quietly. “There’s nothing between us at all.” It had all been fake, a game Deacon had set up. “So feel free to continue hanging out with him, Penelope. You two have become friends, and I don’t want to stand in the way of that.”
After five more minutes of attempting to sway Macy to call Deacon or go see him, Penelope quit trying.
But a few days later, Macy saw Deacon and Penelope together on King Street. She was carrying a bunch of shopping bags. Deacon had some too. They were talking. Penelope was smiling. At least they weren’t holding hands.
Even so, it felt like someone had stabbed Macy through the heart.
Fran and George knocked on her door one night, asking her to come over. They both admitted that Deacon had told them the situation.
“He’s not perfect,” said Fran. “And he’s leaving so soon. Please don’t let this stand between you.”
“He’s crazy about you,” said George. “And I encouraged him in his shenanigans. I told him all is fair in love and war.”
“You shouldn’t have,” Macy chided George.
“I know that now. Come over and have a drink. Let’s all make up.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” Macy said. After hugging them both, she begged off. “You can come over here, though. Any time.”
But when they left, she knew she wouldn’t be calling them to do that. It hurt too much to see them without Deacon. And she didn’t like to think of him leaving. Despite everything, she’d miss him. Every adventure she’d ever had had always been an event, or a place.
Not a person.
But Deacon himself felt like the adventure, all on his own.
That was why she’d miss him.
Charleston’s charms would dim—just a fraction, she assured herself—when he went back to New York.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A few days after Macy said she was done with him, Deacon saw Penelope again at Harris Teeter. She shyly asked him if it would be okay to go a Christmas party together—as friends, she assured him—and he said, of course it was. At the very least, he owed it to her for being so supportive. Plus, she was still doing research for him into his family tree.
After the party, which was tame verging on dull, he walked Penelope home, kissed her on the cheek, and didn’t make any definite plans. When he headed back to the Battery, he was caught by the light at the corner of East Bay and Broad and had to wait. To distract himself from the fact that he’d lingered on that corner with Macy a few times, he pulled out his cell phone and checked his messages. He’d received nothing
from New York, for the first time since he’d arrived in Charleston. His colleagues were finally getting the message: Leave him alone.
He called George.
“You’re already done with your date?” George asked.
Deacon could hear barking in the background. “Yes. And it was fine. So don’t get on my case. I’ll be home in a minute. Wanna go out and play some pool?”
“No. I need to work on the Colonel Block problem and babysit the Corgis. Bubbles has a stomachache. She ate too many cream puffs. I put them out on the piazza to stay cool because the fridge is too full, and she got out there and gobbled them up.”
“Oh God no. Where’s Fran?”
“Playing bridge at Mrs. Beauchamp’s. Although I think it’s strip poker. Mrs. Beauchamp may be ninety, but you ought to hear her talk about living in Paris when she was an exotic dancer back in her twenties.”
“Wait—she’s a librarian.”
“And your point is? Are you making assumptions about librarians that are totally unfair and wrong?”
“No—”
“She became a librarian later. And she’s the best damned one in Charleston.”
“Have you been drinking?”
“You would too, if you’d been here for dinner. Colonel Block still hasn’t figured out Fran has a crush on him. I don’t think she has either. She thinks she hates him, and vice versa. He waxed poetic about my pork roast, but he didn’t say a word about Fran’s new hairdo or false eyelashes.”
“He’s old, George. Give him a break.”
“Those lashes were a bitch to put on. Fran’s used to her makeup man at the studio in New York. She said I had fat fingers. That woman knows how to hurt a guy’s feelings. She hurt the colonel’s too. She told him he needed his bushy eyebrows worked on. She’s right, of course, but that was low.”
“I’m about a block away. Maybe I’ll keep walking.”
“No, come home.”
Home. Deacon found that the grand living quarters his aunt had purchased had become a home of sorts. “Maybe this is the way old people do relationships.”
“Not on your life,” said George. “My grandparents were lovey-dovey until the end. Are you almost here? Whitney, Francine, and Gareth need you. They’re feeling neglected. Bubbles is getting all the attention. And that’s because she smells really bad.”
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