Chapter Thirteen

Jack headed into Charleston on narrow streets lined with cars. I sat up straighter and peered from side to side. So many of the houses in this area had fallen almost into ruin and then been renovated and turned into apartments for students. Some of them, though, had been bought by people with the money and the know how to turn them back into the charming mansions they once were. Pale yellows, blues, and greens were the predominant colors. Even freshly painted, they looked as if they’d been here forever.

We drove past Jack’s apartment and had to stop for a light at the corner. I glanced out the window and saw The Pie Plate where Jack and I had run across each other.

A white square on the window glass caught my eye. I sat up straighter to get a closer look. “Hey, the sign’s still in the window. They’re hiring.”

Jack slid a glance at me just as the light changed. “You give up on the ghost tours?”

“No, of course not.” I fiddled with the strap on my purse. “But I thought since ghost touring’s at night, I could pick up something part-time in the morning. Christian wants to quit his job so he’ll have more time to enjoy college.”

“And you think it’s a good idea to take on twenty hours or so a week serving coffee and pie at the same time that you have your injured mother and your sister and baby nephew to take care of? Along with a new job? What are you, Charleston’s candidate for superwoman of the year?”

“It’s not like that,” I shot back. Funny how fast human nature steps in and makes people turn defensive. “DeLorean is going to help with Mama. And Christian needs a social life apart from his studies and his job. College is supposed to be fun, at least part of the time. Hey, you had your share of good times in college. I remember you telling me about parties and football games and going to the beach.”

“True, but I worked, too.” He signaled for a left. The car, its motor ticking over so smoothly I almost couldn’t hear it, slid past more rows of pastel-colored homes, most of them featuring Charleston style side porches.

When I didn’t respond with a further comment on the merits of fun at college, Jack must have taken that for a sign I was dropping the subject. He pointed out a couple of houses under renovation that his company was working on. Safe topic for both of us.

“You can’t beat these old places for quality of materials and workmanship. That one on the corner has solid mahogany paneling in every room. Can you believe the former owner wanted to knock it down and build one of those angled modern homes decorated with chrome and glass? I’ve got nothing against modern, but what he had in mind would have looked like a parked space ship on a street like this.”

“I agree.” I’d seen evidence in other cities of people being seduced into replacing historic architecture with rows of flimsy boxes that all looked alike. The house he pointed out, unlike most of the others on the street, was brick and had a small cobblestone driveway leading to a carriage house. I was impressed. Off street parking. A way to keep one’s car off the narrow Charleston streets originally built for horse drawn carriages. Points on for the carriage house.

“What happened with the modern eyesore?”

“The city wouldn’t grant permission. He sold the place and moved on.”

“Good for the city.”

Jack turned left at the next street and pulled into the driveway of the most impressive house we’d seen yet. This one was wood frame construction with side porches on both main floors. At the very top of the house, dormer windows indicated a sizeable attic, probably walk-up. An enormous oak stood next to a carriage house in the courtyard out back.

“Is this another one you’re working on?” I said.

“You might say that. This one’s mine.”

“Wow.” I climbed out of the car and turned to face him. “I’m impressed, Jack. Your house is fabulous.”

He shrugged. “After the divorce, Maureen and I sold our home and some other property we had in New Jersey. Even split two ways we made a nice profit. And the widow who sold me this place made me the deal of a lifetime because she knew I was going to renovate and care for the house as much as she did.”

“You almost sound like you think you don’t deserve something like this.” I slipped my arm through his. “You’re a hard worker. And a nice person. Why shouldn’t you have success?”

“Don’t know. Maybe I’ve made too many mistakes in the past.” He looked at me solemn-faced and I couldn’t see the mischievous glint in his eye that usually told me when he was kidding. But the skies were still murky after the earlier storm and the branches from the oak were shading his face. So maybe I was simply missing something.

“Here’s where I’m supposed to tell you how perfect you are. After that, I profess my undying admiration and affection and shower you with compliments until my voice gives out. Then you shuffle your feet and stare at your toes and mumble, ‘Ah, shucks, ma’am, that’s mighty nice of you.’ Well, don’t place bets on any of that, mister. Don’t try fishing for compliments from me.” I grinned to show I was kidding.

“Wasn’t going to. And besides the fact that I can’t see my toes through my shoes, you know I’m not the ‘ah, shucks’ type. Gotten sassy in your old age, haven’t you?”

“Look who’s talking about old. In case you’ve forgotten, you’re a good two months older than I am. Now show me the rest of this gem before I get fed up with your insults and leave.”

He gently brushed my hair away from my face, letting his fingers glide against my cheek. Little tiny goosebumps--the most delicate of goosebumps--chased each other down my back.

“You’ll have to look past the drop cloths and all the other signs of ongoing renovation, but you’ll get the idea. I look forward to your opinion.”

“And I look forward to giving it.” My arm still linked in his, we went up the steps to the massive front door.

Jack unlocked the door, pushed it open, and waved me inside. I stopped in the foyer, which was about the size of my dining room and kitchen combined.

What could I say about a house that was perfect? Or would be when the work was finished. Mahogany paneling. Ornate moldings. Built in bookshelves and cupboards. A soaring curved stairway that led to the upper floor. Lofty ceilings. Crystal chandeliers. Fireplaces with exquisite hand carved mantles.

We climbed the stairs to see Jack’s bedroom. The room was enormous. There were windows on two sides and a door that led onto the side porch, which was shaded by a giant magnolia. I pictured a table and chairs on the porch, perfect for morning coffee.

“Over here’s the bathroom I was telling you about.” Jack grabbed my arm and hauled me across the floor like I was a toy on a string.

“Hey, what’s the rush?” I pulled my arm away from him and rubbed my elbow.

“I told you, I’m expecting someone.”

There went my stomach again, trying to fall into my shoes. I’d forgotten. Really.

I shook away thoughts of meeting Kelly and stood with my hands on my hips, trying to visualize the finished product. Not easy. The floor was still unfinished, just rough plywood. I could see pipes where there were supposed to be a toilet, sinks, shower, and a tub that would be situated under the huge stained glass window.

Jack moved closer to stand beside me. He casually draped an arm over my shoulder.

“Tell me, Nic, how would you decorate if this were your home?”

I wondered how I’d feel if I were his girlfriend Kelly and I knew that Jack had brought me here and put his arm around me. Not only that, but he’d asked me to help him decorate the house that she, presumably, was going to move into with him. I told myself I wouldn’t mind at all if I were the girlfriend because Susan Caraway was nothing more than Jack’s high school buddy, the klutzy girl who fell off the couch the one and only time he kissed me.

Then, pursing my lips as if that would help me concentrate, I tried to imagine myself living here. What would I want my bathroom to look like?

Marble floors--green to pick up the same shade as the green in the stained glass window. A bit of royal purple for accents because that’s my favorite color. Some white for contrast. I moved from the front of the room to the back, explaining as I went, waving my hands for emphasis.

Jack kept nodding. Finally he said, “Is that it?”

“I guess so. And I’m sure you could have done the same thing yourself.”

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head. “I was ordered to get a second opinion. Female.”

“That’s right, and I did the ordering.”

I jumped and slid out from under Jack’s arm to turn around. I’d been so absorbed in mentally decorating Jack’s bathroom that I hadn’t heard anyone come into the house.

A tall, blond woman stood in the doorway. She was beautifully dressed in a peach-colored linen suit. She was gorgeous, flawless even, and I would have bet her makeup was done professionally. I had to concentrate on my jaw muscles to keep my mouth from dropping open in awe.

“Hi.” I stepped forward with my hand out. “Jack has told me…” He hadn’t actually told me anything about Kelly, come to think of it. “all about you.”

“Really?” She turned to Jack. “I didn’t know you cared.”

Jack laughed. “Dawn, this is my friend, Nic. Actually, her real name is Susan, but it doesn’t suit her, so I call her Nic. And, Nic, this is Dawn Akron, a designer for my firm. She’s helping with the house.”

“Jack had plans to wreck this beautiful bathroom.” She shuddered. “He has the color sense of a baboon.”

“Hey, don’t let her talk about me that way, Nic.”

“First I want to hear what you were planning.” I pretended to frown.

“Brown and orange with a gaudy shade of turquoise for accents, that’s what.” Dawn shook her head in mock sadness. “And I thought he had better taste than that.”

“Tan and, uh, tangerine,” Jack said. “Tan and tangerine. And Teal. What’s wrong with that?”

Dawn looked at me. “Trust me, Nic. Calling mustard and brick, tan and tangerine do not make them look any better in a room like this. And turquoise clashing with that beautiful stained glass would be a crime. Do you agree?”

“Perfectly.” I may not have been the greatest when it came to decorating, but even I knew that Jack’s colors would make this room look like a budget motel. I playfully slapped his arm. “I’m disowning you if you ruin this gorgeous bathroom.”

“Two against one. It’s settled,” Dawn said. “I thought a nice green marble for the floor.”

“With purple and cream accents for the rest of the room?” I said hopefully.

“I’d planned scarlet and cream, but purple would do fine. There’s purple in the window. Purple accents in the room should give it a nice color punch.”

“But shouldn’t Kelly have the final say?” I meant this question for both of them, but I looked at Jack. “After all, she is Jack’s girlfriend.”

Dawn blinked rapidly. “Jack? I didn’t know you—“

“I don’t. I didn’t.” Jack waved his hands in denial. “It’s a surprise. My girlfriend will be happy with whatever you two choose.” Jack tromped past Dawn, through the master bedroom and out into the hallway.

“Men.” Dawn raised her eyes to search heavenward for answers.

“Yeah, men,” I echoed. I didn’t bother raising my eyes. Heaven hadn’t given me any answers yet where men were concerned.

You’d have thought Jack would have told his designer he had a girlfriend, though. After all, her tastes in home decorating should be considered first. But then Jack wanted the house to be a surprise. I hoped Kelly The Girlfriend wasn’t fussy. Personally, I thought Dawn had done a terrific job in the finished rooms I’d already seen, but Kelly might, like Maureen, be consumed with a burning need to complain about everything. I wondered what would happen if she hated the house and hated that I’d given my opinion about the decorating. For just a few seconds I almost wished I’d sided with Jack and let him decorate his bathroom in the foulest of mismatched colors that would send Kelly running back to New Jersey in a snit.

Dawn and I rejoined Jack downstairs in the kitchen. Unlike most of the rest of the house, the room was finished, the appliances installed, and, Jack had told me earlier, already in working order.

“Nic and I are going out to dinner,” Jack said. “Care to join us?”

“Thanks, but Zack will kill me if I leave him alone with the kids for another minute.” She swept out of the room, trailing a “nice meeting you” over her shoulder.

“I enjoyed meeting you, too,” I called. I pulled out one of the kitchen barstools and slid onto the padded seat. “I can advise you on how to remodel your attic if you want. Insulation. Storage bins. Rustic, yet functional.”

“I think I can handle it. So are you as starved as I am? I thought we could go to that new seafood place on Broad. What’s it called?”

“I forget, but I know the place you mean. I heard the food’s fabulous, but there’s usually a line out the door. Look, the kitchen’s finished. If you want to just get some food, I’ll be glad to cook us something.”

Jack was already shaking his head. “Not that you aren’t a fabulous cook, but you’ve already made me a meal this weekend. Tell you what--why don’t I order in from the Grotto? The food’s great, Italian, and while we wait for it to get here we can finish catching up on all the years since…” He paused and worked his mouth, fishing for words. “Since we lost touch.”

“Great plan.” There was a little catch in my voice. His tone made it sound like we were more than friends. But we weren’t, much to my regret. “We can talk without my family taking center stage the way they did last night and without sitting in a crowded restaurant trying to hear over the sound of everyone else.”

Jack nodded. “Not that I don’t like your family, but I’m not in the mood for that much input this evening.”

He placed the order and poured us glasses of red wine. We went into the living room, still unfurnished, but with a working fireplace.

The air was unusually cool for September, probably due to the earlier rain. Jack lit a fire and we sat together with our backs against a box that had “Shelving” stenciled on the side.

I stared into the flames, watching the golds and reds and oranges dance on top of the logs. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sat in front of a real fire with a friend. We were supposed to be talking over old times. Instead we drank our wine in a companionable silence.

After a while, Jack said, “Nic? Last week you talked about your broken marriage and your job. What about your social life? Didn’t you say you have a boyfriend?”

My first impulse was to describe Steve, but the words wouldn’t come. I tried on and discarded several thoughts. And knew it was time to stop playing my silly game and come clean. The new improved me had promised to get a life. I was quite sure that getting a life didn’t mean having an imaginary love interest or telling lies to my friends.

“The truth is,” I said, not looking at him, “there isn’t a boyfriend, there’s only a blind date that went terribly wrong and a guy from yoga class I enjoyed having coffee with. But we never went out and he’s seeing someone now. Sorry I misled you. Guess I didn’t want to seem pathetic and alone or anything like the shell-shocked divorcee you imagined.”

“You’re not pathetic. Or shell-shocked. Thanks for leveling with me.” Jack squeezed my hand.

I squeezed back. He’d made everything okay. He always made everything okay.

The food arrived and was, as promised, fantastic. Jack’s phone rang while we were finishing our cherry cheesecake. He powered the phone off without looking at the caller ID. He leaned in closer and put his arm around me.

“Nic, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” He half turned and put his fingertips under my chin. Our eyes locked.

Oh, God, the baby goosebumps were back and if he didn’t move at least ten feet away I was going to forget he was taken. “You. I mean, okay what is it?” My heartbeat was so loud I was sure he could hear it over my breathing.

“It’s about Kelly. Things haven’t been going that great and we’ve both had second thoughts about continuing our relationship. In fact--”

“Hold that thought.” I held up my hand. The shrill ring coming from the phone in my pocket was so loud I couldn’t have heard him over the sound.

Caller ID indicated home. My stomach dropped toward my knees and all thoughts about Jack and Kelly dissolved. “I have to take this. Only the gods know what will happen with Mama and DeLorean on their own in my house for the evening.”

“I’m sure it can wait.” He grabbed for the phone and I snatched it out of reach.

“Stop it, Jack.”

“They haven’t killed each other or burned down any houses yet, Nic.”

“They wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency. Maybe something’s happened to Christian.” My fingers shaking, I pressed a button on the phone. “Mama?”

“It’s DeLorean. Susan, you have to come home right away. I borrowed Mama’s Cadillac and went out with Cole for just a few minutes, I swear, just five minutes to pick up some diapers at CVS.”

“What happened? Is Mama okay?’ I shrieked, envisioning her falling off the couch and cracking her skull because DeLorean had left her alone.”

“Calm down. She’s fine. Physically, I mean. But while I was gone, my father showed up and had this big ugly scene with Mama. Thank God he was gone before I got back and I didn’t have to deal with him. Anyway, Mama’s sniffling like somebody with major allergies, and it is so getting on my nerves. It can’t be good for her heart, either. Don’t people her age have weak hearts? And Cole is screaming and all the dogs are barking.” Her voice skirted the edge of hysteria. “I swear, Susan, I simply can’t deal with this. I’m about ready to toss your TV through the nearest window if it will get everyone to calm down and shut up and give me five minutes of silence.”

“It won’t. Don’t toss, I’ll be right there.” I rang off and turned to Jack. “There’s a crisis at home with DeLorean and Mama. I have to go.”

“And they can’t handle it themselves,” he said in flat tones.

“Don’t be angry.” I put my hand on his arm and he shook it off. “Jack, I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to.”

He hauled himself off the floor and strode toward the door, shoving an empty carton out of his way so hard it went airborne and bounced off the wall. “Let’s go.”

I scurried to catch up with him. “It’s family, Jack. It’s not like some random strangers are interfering in my life.”

“Right.” Jaw set like stone. “Two grown women sitting there totally helpless until you show up to wave your magic wand.”

“It isn’t like that.” I was speaking to his back.

By the time I’d settled myself next to him in the car, I was feeling a little anger of my own. Who needed a friend who was too selfish to understand that you had to be there for your family, even it if it interfered with your own plans?

Neither of us spoke on the way back to Mount Pleasant. Jack pushed the button to the radio. When some singer with a nasal voice started whining about love being the answer, I had to fight with myself to keep from hitting the off button. Love song. Hah!

Jack skidded the car to a stop in my driveway, got out and opened my door and walked me to the porch. Then, without a word he stormed back to his car and left. I wanted to turn around to look, to wave and say that I’d call him, but I couldn’t do anything except stare at my front door until DeLorean yanked it open.