Fit to Be Tied

by Debby Mayne

  “Okay. I think that’s about all we need.”

  When we get back to his house, his dad’s in the front yard waiting for us. Julius groans. “Uh-oh.”

  “What’s-a-matter?”

  “I know that look on my dad. He’s mad as all get out.” He pounds the steering wheel, and I jump.

  “Why?” I glance back and forth between Julius and his dad.

  “Who knows?”

  As soon as he puts his car in Park, I hop out. Julius’s daddy storms over to me. “Where have you boys been?”

  I glance over my shoulder and see that Julius is still sitting in his car, and then I turn back to Bucky. “Just to the hardware store.”

  “You expect me to believe you?” His tone of voice scares me, and his shoulders are up around his ears, making him look not only fierce but crazy.

  “Yes, sir. That’s where we’ve been.”

  His shoulders drop a few inches. “Okay, since it’s you tellin’ me, I believe you. What I don’t get is why on earth two teenage boys would steal my credit card just to go to a hardware store.”

  “We didn’t . . . I mean, I didn’t . . .” It’s hard for me to get the words out with him staring at me like a bull getting ready to charge.

  He steps even closer to me and gets right up in my face. “What didn’t you do, Brett?”

  “I didn’t steal anything.” I turn my head and cough before looking back. “I promise.”

  “My credit card is missing, and my son took off without telling anyone, so all I have to do is put two and two together.” He glances over at Julius, who still hasn’t gotten out of his car. “What did y’all get at the hardware store?”

  “Just some stuff for his boxcar.”

  “We’ve already finished building it.”

  “But—” I stop myself before telling him that they did a horrible job. My mind races as I try to think of something to say. Finally, all I can come up with is a lame “He wanted to paint it.”

  His face gets all scrunchy before it relaxes, and he nods. “Okay, that makes sense. What’d y’all get?”

  “Mostly paint.”

  “I didn’t think about making it pretty.” He starts to turn back toward the house and stops to smile at me. “Tell Julius to put my credit card back on the dresser along with the receipt.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After he goes into the mansion, Julius gets out of the car and walks toward me. “That was a close call.”

  I put my hands on my hips, just like Mama does when she fusses at me. “What are you talking about? You didn’t even talk to him.”

  He grins at me. “I know. You’re so good at it I thought I’d let you explain.”

  Some of the stuff Mama has said about Julius pops into my mind, but I certainly can’t tell him what it is. Instead, I point toward the shed behind the garage. “Let’s go fix up your boxcar.”

  It takes me a couple of hours to reinforce the sides of the boxcar and to secure the wheels that would have fallen off within seconds of the start of the race if I hadn’t done that. Julius keeps asking when we can start painting it, and I keep having to tell him when we’re done.

  “All the paint in the world won’t hold this thing together when you’re flying down that hill in Hattiesburg.”

  “I just want it to look cool.”

  I open my mouth but quickly close it. Julius is being true to form when all he cares about is how he’ll look. Daddy’s words about building the foundation before adding the prettiness play in my head. Mama always says when I grow up I’ll look back and see how smart she and Daddy are. Maybe that’s what’s happening with me now.

  Finally, I take a step back and point to the bag with the paint. “Now you can paint it.”

  He pulls out one of the cans of orange paint and pries off the lid. Before he points it toward the car, I hold up my hand.

  “What?”

  “You have to shake it first, but we need to take it outside so we don’t have to breathe the fumes.” I reach into the bag and pull out the face masks I talked him into buying. “And put this on first.”

  “Nah, I don’t need one of those.”

  “But you’ll—”

  Before I finish, he starts spraying the paint, and next thing I know, he’s having a coughing attack. “That stuff’s horrible.” He sputters again. “I can’t breathe.”

  “That’s why you need the mask.”

  He grabs it from me, puts it on, and starts spraying again. The thing is a real mess because he didn’t give me a chance to show him how to tape off the car to protect what shouldn’t have paint on it.

  After he’s finished, he steps back, squints, and stares at it. “Looks like I’m gonna have to paint the wheels black. They look stupid in orange.” He pulls out the can of black paint.

  “You need to wait for it to dry.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” He starts spraying down the side of the car.

  I sigh. I don’t think he’ll listen to anything I say, so I stand back and watch as the black paint drips into the orange. Now it looks even worse than it did before.

  When he’s done, he straightens up and grins. “Well? What do you think?”

  Tomorrow we’ll be piling everything into our cars to take to Bucky and Marybeth’s house for the reunion. We heard Grandpa Jay is cooking the pig, since Bucky doesn’t want to mess up his expensive lawn, so Justin has volunteered to help him out.

  “I don’t like this one bit,” Sara says as we wait for Justin to change shirts.

  I glance up at my sister. “What don’t you like? I think it’s sweet that Justin is helping Grandpa Jay.”

  “It’s not that. It’s just that every stinkin’ time Bucky gets too involved, something bad happens.”

  “Nothing bad has happened.”

  “Not yet, but you know it will.” Her frown deepens. “I don’t know why they want to have the reunion at his place.”

  “Maybe because they want him to show off the house.”

  “Oh, I doubt that. I don’t think anyone in the family is impressed enough by what Bucky buys with money he never earned.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “Based on how he and Marybeth act, you’d think they did something important to get all that money, when all they did was sign the papers to put those hideous oil rigs on their property.” Sara makes a face. “I know we keep talking about that, but it still doesn’t make sense to reward Bucky for being the family snob.”

  “Or maybe it’s a way to bring him down a notch or two. I’m sure there’s a learning opportunity in there somewhere.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Sara gives me a goofy look. “Again.”

  Justin walks out of the bedroom and smiles at Sara. “This should be fun. Your grandpa is one of the coolest guys I’ve ever met.”

  “I know, I know.” Sara rolls her eyes as she casts a smirk in my direction. “You can’t believe how lucky you are to get to hang out with him all night while the pig roasts.”

  “That’s right.” Justin grins as he holds up a duffel bag. “I’m bringing my reunion outfit and taking a shower at your granny and grandpa’s place.” He hesitates before pulling the keys to his truck out of his pocket. “I thought I’d drive.”

  “Oh no, ya don’t.” Sara’s no-nonsense tone startles me, but when I glance at Justin, I see a look of amusement. “We’re not taking any chances.”

  He lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say.”

  As they walk out the door to Sara’s car, I hear her lecturing him about getting some sleep. “You’re still not completely healed, and I don’t want you going back to the hospital.”

  I smile at the sound of my sister showing her maternal side to her husband. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’ll be an awesome mama.

  After I pour a cup of coffee, I head into the workroom to get as much done as possible, since I’m taking off some time for the long weekend. By the time Sara gets back home from taking Ju
stin to Grandpa Jay’s farm, I’ve completed a couple of rush orders.

  “Grandpa Jay is as excited to have Justin there as Justin is to be there.” Sara takes in a deep breath and loudly exhales. “He says I married a good man who reminds him of himself when he was younger.”

  “Justin has done a good job of making himself part of the family.”

  “I know, right?” She holds out her hands. “On the one hand, I’m happy about that, but on the other hand, I can’t help being jealous of his time.”

  I put down the ribbon and clip I’ve been preparing. “You need to remember that the time he spends developing relationships with the family is sort of like time spent with you.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “It’s easy. He’s doing it for you. And based on my experience, I’m sure the more they get to know him, the more they’ll love him.”

  “Oh, okay.” She turns to the ribbon and pulls off a length to work on a bow before lifting an eyebrow and glancing back at me. “When did you get so smart?”

  I laugh. “I’ve always been smart. You’re just now getting around to realizing that.”

  “You sound like Mama.” She lets out a grunt. “She said the exact same thing to me last week.”

  We work until midafternoon, when I stand up and announce that it’s time to start working on the food I’m bringing to the reunion. “Shay said I can do the meatballs again, and I’m going to add a noodle dish from the cooking class.”

  “The doctor says I need to add more fruit to my diet, so I’m bringing an apple pie.”

  I laugh. “I don’t think that’s what your doctor meant.”

  “I figured you’d say that, which is why I’m also bringing a fruit platter with yogurt dip.”

  “The dip we made in the ‘Cooking for Toddlers’ class?”

  She nods. “Yep. That’s the one.”

  “Yum. At least I have one thing to look forward to. There’s no telling what’ll happen this year.”

  “What makes you think something will happen?”

  I shrug. “Something always happens. Sometimes I wonder why we keep going.” I pause. “Maybe it’s like a car wreck. We don’t want it to happen, but we can’t stop looking.”

  “C’mon, Sally. You know it’s not that bad. Don’t let a few bad apples ruin your time with the rest of the family.”

  “I know. It’s just that . . .” I let my thoughts take over in my head to keep from saying them out loud.

  “Look. You’ll have me and Justin, and I’m sure Shay will be more than happy to spend time with you.”

  “Is she bringing someone?”

  Sara shrugs as she opens the fridge door and bends over to pull out the yogurt. “How should I know? I hardly see her anymore. I reckon we’ll find out soon.” Then she scrunches her face. “Now that you brought that up, I thought you were bringing Nate.”

  “I am.” My face heats up merely at the sound of his name.

  She giggles. “You don’t sound all that excited, but you look flustered.”

  “I’m not flustered.” I clear my throat. “But I’d be excited if I didn’t have such a bad history with men.”

  “And if he didn’t have such a bad history with women.” She bobs her head. “Maybe that’s why y’all are such a good match.”

  “So you’re saying two bads make a good?”

  “Yeah,” she says with a chuckle. “Pretty much.”

  If anyone but my sister had said that, I’d be offended. I roll my eyes. “That’s just messed up.”

  She levels me with a look. “Seriously, Sally, you don’t have a bad history with men. Just one man.”

  “You have to admit I had bad judgment when I thought he was so wonderful.”

  “Well, yeah.” She laughs. “But hopefully, you learned what to look for.”

  We continue this pointless conversation as we prepare the dishes we’re bringing to the reunion. One thing I can count on with my sister is being able to hold a meaningless conversation with her for hours, and she doesn’t judge . . . or at least she didn’t in the past. I’m discovering so many new things about her that I’m not sure anymore.

  “How much do you like Nate?” She stops stirring and looks directly at me.

  “A lot.”

  “Does he know?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Why?”

  “At some point, you need to show it. Most guys need some words or at least signs that you have feelings.”

  I force a smile. “We’ll have to see about that. Let’s concentrate on what we’re doing.”

  She gives me a closemouthed smile. “Okay, but think about what I said.”

  After we’re done, I turn to Sara, lift my hand, and give her a high five. “What now?”

  Her eyes widen. “Now we call Shay and invite her over for a preview of our cooking.”

  “Great idea.” I pull my phone out of my back pocket and punch in her number.

  She answers right away. “Sure, I’d love to come over. Puddin’ is staying a little bit later, since I haven’t even started cooking yet.”

  “Isn’t she cooking something?”

  “Are you kidding?” Shay laughs. “She had her stuff finished and in the freezer days ago. All she has to do is pull it out and reheat it.”

  We make plans for her to arrive at five. After I hang up, I look at my sister. “We need to do something special for her.”

  “I could make her a bow.”

  We both crack up. Ever since we started our business, when it’s time to give someone a gift, one of us says we can make a bow. Once I said that to Mama, and she just gave me a look like she thought I’d lost my mind. So now Sara and I keep it as our personal inside joke.

  She contorts her mouth as she often does when she’s coming up with an idea. Finally, her eyes light up. “Tell you what. We can go to Walmart and get her a potted poinsettia, and then we can come back and make her a platter of samples.”

  “Great idea.”

  She tilts her head. “Do you think we should get her something else?”

  “Like what?” I think for a moment. “It’s not her birthday, is it?”

  “I don’t think so, but after all she’s done for us, we didn’t even bother getting her a housewarming gift. Let’s see if they have something good at Walmart. She can probably use some new pot holders or something.” She crinkles her forehead. “Or one of those squishy mats you can put in front of the sink to keep your feet from hurting while you’re doing dishes.”

  I lean back and laugh. “You crack me up. You’ve never been the least bit interested in house stuff. Now that you’re married and pregnant, you’ve gone and gotten all domestic on me.” I’m still laughing as I shake my head. “Pot holders? Floor mat? Really, Sara? What’s up with this?”

  “I know. It’s weird. Justin said his mama told him women start nesting while they’re pregnant.”

  “Maybe that’s what you’re doing. It just seems strange that you’ve changed so much in a matter of months.”

  “I haven’t really changed. I’m just starting to say the things I’m thinking.”

  I narrow my eyes and give her a long look. Apparently, I don’t know my sister as well as I thought I did.

  We find everything we need at Walmart, including the poinsettias by the entrance and some serving platters on clearance. “What’s wrong with them?” Sara asks as she turns them over and inspects the bottoms. “You’d think they’d go on sale after Thanksgiving, not before.”

  “Most people have probably already bought that kind of thing.”

  She grins at me. “Looks like procrastinating isn’t always a bad thing.”

  We find some cute matching dish towels and pot holders for Shay, take them to the cash registers, and then wait in one of the long lines. “I hope this line moves fast. We spent way too much time looking at serving platters.”

  Sara smiles at one of the employees who motions her over to a lane she’s about to open. Some guy makes a rude c
omment about us cutting in line when it was his turn.

  As soon as we get in the car, I groan. “I can’t believe how rude some people are.”

  “But not everyone. Justin’s mama says as soon as I start showing, people will start being super nice.”

  I lean back and close my eyes while she backs the car out of the parking space. Sounds like Justin’s mama has a lot of wisdom that can help Sara—more than I’ll be able to, since I’ve never been married or pregnant.

  As soon as we turn onto our street, I see Shay standing in front of the next building, chatting with Jeanine. After what she said about Jeanine, I’m concerned that something bad might be happening. My heart thuds as I turn to Sara, whose eyebrows have shot up almost to her hairline.

  I’m down on my hands and knees in the master bathroom, scrubbing behind the toilet, when I hear footsteps. I pause for a moment before I continue cleaning. The footsteps stop. “Just what do you think you’re doing, Marybeth?”

  I drop the brush and scramble to my feet. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  Bucky closes his eyes and lets out a throaty sound of frustration. “How many times do I have to tell you not to do that kind of stuff? You’re supposed to supervise the household help, not do it yourself.”

  “But—” I stop myself because I know that no matter how many times I explain that no one else can clean my bathroom like I do, Bucky will argue.

  My husband curls his lip in disgust. “Get up and change into something nicer. I don’t want my wife looking like a cleaning lady.”

  But I am a cleaning lady. Before we came into money, having a clean house was one of the things that gave me satisfaction. Some people might not understand this, but knowing I did it myself made it all the sweeter. And something Bucky doesn’t know is that when I needed extra money, I called one of my old high school friends who owned a cleaning service, and I did an occasional job or two. To this day, I look back on those times with fond memories.

  I wait until Bucky has left the bathroom before finishing the job and standing up to admire the sparkling tile floor. It still makes me smile. I understand why Bucky is the way he is. He thinks that rich people don’t do manual labor and that they hire folks to do the dirty work. If that’s the case, maybe I’m not cut out to be rich.