Fireflies and Magnolias (24 page)

The quiet pause suggested she’d caught him off guard, but his smile didn’t dim one watt. And when he wrapped his arms around her again, the fear she’d carried in her solar plexus evaporated.

“Of course he is. He wouldn’t be your brother’s best friend and deputy manager if he wasn’t. I figure if Rye can entrust his heart and his business to the man, he’ll do right by you.”

She’d never thought of it that way, and she pulled back to look at him. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises today?”

“So I hear. You should know I’m also seeing your mama in a new light, and we’ve been talking on the phone some. We’ve even met halfway between Meade and Nashville for a bite to eat. She’s been making more changes since she stood up for Tammy, and it’s good to see. I finally realized she wasn’t any different than me. She’s only been doing what her mama before her had told her to do.”

She couldn’t help but pull away. “But Daddy! She’s been horrid to you. To everyone!”

He shrugged. “She has, and she’s taken responsibility for it. Or at least she’s trying. She and Tammy have been talking. Now I’m not saying you need to call her, but she’d really like to show you and Rye how much she’s changed. I understand from Tammy that she’s spoken to you and Rye about your mama’s wish to join us for Thanksgiving, and y’all haven’t decided whether to let her come. It’s up to you, but I hope you’ll give her a chance.”

“I don’t know if I have that much forgiveness in me.”

It hurt to admit, all the more so because if she didn’t have the capacity to forgive, what would her family do if they discovered she was the leak? Her sins weren’t as great as Mama’s, but she had much to atone for.

“Well, I don’t know that we ever forgive anyone one hundred percent in the moment. Perhaps better men than me are capable of it. For me, it’s a slower process, rather like draining a sink that’s gotten clogged. It takes a while for the water to go down.”

Time. That endless thread, the changeless reality. She had to trust it was on her side.

The kids ran outside with their dogs who must have been released from the mudroom. They streaked across the yard in the opposite direction, heading for their tree house.

“I’m glad we had this talk, Daddy.”

He tucked his arm through hers like the gentleman he was. “Me too, sugar. Every time I see you, it’s like watching an eagle fly higher in the sky. I can’t wait to see what’s next for you.”

They walked down the path to the river in a comfortable silence. Damp earth and moss perfumed the air. When they reached the bank, she leaned down and stuck her hand in. The water rushed over her wrist, and she felt cleansed and renewed from its life force.

She had her life back, she realized, after following others’ dictates for so long. As that realization bloomed inside her, so too did the deepest sense of peace she’d ever known.

Sitting around the kitchen table with Sadie making Brussels sprout jokes was the kind of silly family fun Susannah loved. And of course she was egging her sister on. Mama had joined in too, saying she never partook of them on Saturdays, not when she had to preach in front of her congregation on Sunday and greet her congregants after services, which only had the McGuinesses laughing harder.

Rory clutched his stomach and glanced at Tammy. “Mama, I ate an awful lot of bustle spouts. Am I going to have gas too?”

Everyone tried not to laugh, but it was impossible. Tammy’s shocked expression was priceless, particularly because of what Amelia Ann had said about never hearing their mama toot. It was no surprise that the same conversation that made Susannah and her mother and sisters convulse with laughter would astonish them.

J.P. swung Rory up into his arms, trying to rein in his laughter. “You’ll be fine. A little gas never hurt anyone. Right, darlin’?”

“No, you’ll be fine, sweetie,” Tammy said. “Heavens, the things people talk about. I’m a bit rusty in my conversation skills it seems.”

They went from laughter to guffawing in a heartbeat.

“Welcome to the McGuiness clan, honey,” J.P. said, wheezing now.

After he set Rory down, her brother snagged her arm. “Come on, Susannah. I need some air after all this gas talk.”

Her belly hurt from laughing so hard, so she let him drag her to the front lest she laugh her way into an ulcer. They sat in the rocking chairs—the quiet stark and surprising after the chaos of family. Susannah leaned back and simply let the motion of the chair relax her. Nothing like a good rocking chair.

“So, Jake Lassiter said he met you the other day when he was leaving the house,” her brother drawled.

She’d known her brother for too long not to pick up on the curiosity in his voice. So, that’s why J.P. had wanted to talk to her on her own. Choosing her words carefully, she said, “Yes. He seems like a nice guy. I can see why you like him.”

Robins chirped in the nearby trees, their song mixing in with the laughter and chatter from inside the house. “He said you were charming.”

Surprise made her feet push a little harder on the floor, and her chair started to tip backward. J.P.’s hand stopped her from falling. She was blushing, she knew, like a fifteen-year-old girl. This was so not going to do.

“Of course he found me charming,” she said more dismissively than she felt “I’m a McGuiness. We’re all charming, right? Aren’t we known for our smiles?”

Her brother stopped rocking and leaned closer to look at her. “I don’t see one on your face right now. In fact, you look a little peaked.”

She did? Well, it was only fair—it wasn’t every day a woman heard someone like Jake Lassiter found her charming. “Must be the heat.”

His rocking chair resumed its pace while hers stood still.
“
Feels pretty pleasant out to me.”

Her mind was spinning. Could it mean that Jake
liked
her?

She tilted her head to the side to catch the expression on her brother’s face. Did he know more than he was sharing? Oh, for Pete’s sake, she was turning all girlish and silly over one word.
Charming.

Then she caught the curve of J.P.’s mouth, the one he favored when he thought he knew something someone else didn’t.

“Wait. Is this the real reason you asked me to volunteer for the concert? Were you hoping he’d ask me out?”

This was the type of subtle manipulation he’d always employed with her and her sisters over the years.

“Susannah, my dear, no one respects your ability to make decisions for yourself more than I do. I know you don’t need anyone’s help with your love life. You’ll find the right man on your own.”

Still, it stunk of a setup to her. “Promise me you won’t talk with Jake any more about how charming I am.”

He crossed his finger over his heart like they’d always done growing up. “I promise.”

He might say that, but their knight-in-shining-armor brother had always been there to nudge them in the right direction when they either couldn’t see the right path or were too afraid to take it.

If he hadn’t told her Jake’s comment, she would never have considered the possibility Jake had reacted to her the same way she had to him.

Was he attracted to her? She resumed her rocking. The whisper of the rungs against the porch’s wooden planks soothed her, so she relaxed back into its bowed shape.

Well, she would see Jake a few more times in the lead-up to the concert. Perhaps she would have her answers then.

The Germantown hotspot of Rolf and Daughters was located in the hundred-year-old Werthan factory building, and despite its brown brick facade, its interior was trendy. Of course, it also served the best pasta in town.

“I’m rather surprised you like this place,” Amelia Ann told Clayton as they walked to the restaurant. She wished he would take her hand, but she wanted him to make the moves tonight.

“Why is that?” he asked, opening the door for her.

“I don’t see you as a pasta guy.”

“They have other stuff,” he responded in a crisp tone and told the greeter his name for their reservation.

The fact was he’d been pretty crisp since picking her up in a black SUV, which she’d realized must be his second car. It was the same vehicle he’d had that day at Jasinda’s.

She’d dressed in something she’d thought guaranteed a compliment—a gold sleeveless dress that fell to her knees. The fall temperatures didn’t concern her. She had a shawl.

And him.

But he wasn’t obliging, and all the ground she thought they’d gained seemed to have disappeared.

Sure, he’d dressed for the occasion, swapping his cowboy hat and boots for a navy shirt, gray dress pants, and black dress shoes. She was surprised to realize she liked seeing country on him more than the city.

They barely interacted while they put in their drink order. Immediately after the drinks were served, he asked her, “Who are your top candidates to be featured for the concert?”

She took her time drinking her pinot grigio, not letting him rush her.

He only arched a brow.

“I thought we were mixing business and pleasure, but I’ve only just laid my napkin in my lap, and here we are talking shop.”

Even she could hear the edge in her voice. It only made his mouth tip up at the corners.

“Are you mad at me already?” he asked. “We haven’t even ordered dinner yet.”

“I know. Are you going to
try
and be more charming tonight?”

He kicked back like he didn’t have a care in the world. “I might. We’re sparring again.”

Indeed they were, and she didn’t want that. “Can we please…enjoy each other like we did on Saturday? I liked that, Clayton. I liked it a lot.”

His brisk nod would have to do for an answer because the server arrived just then to take their order. She gave in and ordered the squid pasta the restaurant was so famous for. He ordered the trout.

Their corner table allowed her to take in the scene, even though all she wanted to do was watch him. It was packed for a Monday night, but then again, it usually was. The high wood-plank ceilings and brick walls cushioned the sound, so unlike other restaurants, you could actually have an intimate conversation with your fellow diners.

Not that Clayton wanted to have an intimate conversation with her, it seemed.

She ended up falling back on business since the silence between them was too awkward for her to bear. “I sent the stories to you in the order I’d ranked them. I didn’t say anything because I didn't want to influence you.”

“So, Martha, Winnie, and Hazel are your top three,” he said, jumping on the life preserver like a drowning man. “I agree with your choices, but it’s hard to think about cutting the others. They’re all so impressive. Kerrie’s story was…I was horrified by what she’d gone through.”

It shouldn’t surprise her that he remembered everyone’s names, but somehow it did.

“Yes, it’s hard to imagine surviving such a horrible thing…” The woman had been beaten with a wrench, the very thought of which made her want to weep. “I listed her fifth because I feel like she’s still rebuilding her life. I wanted to show people…well, examples of women who have—”

“Risen to professional success and earned a position of stature within their community,” he finished. “I agree. Still…I wish we had more time for features, but the fans will only tolerate what we’ve allotted. I’ve studied up on what other successful charity concerts have done.”

She hadn’t even thought of comparing their plans to other charity concerts. “I thought you’d picked the number out of the blue.”

“And you say I don’t give
you
enough credit,” he said as their meals arrived.

The smell of garlic emanating from her wickedly black pasta made her head spin. She rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “I used to say that. I think we’re beyond that now.”

“Me too,” he said in a husky tone, and she felt him shift back into the charming, interested man with whom she’d spent her Saturday. “The women’s stories you sent me are really something, Amelia Ann. I know I’ve had my concerns about you working at Community Legal, but after reading about what those women went through and how clinics like yours helped, I…umm, I’m glad you’re doing what you’re doing. Not that it doesn’t still worry me something fierce.”

It was a bold statement for him and his concern for her touched her heart. “Thank you, Clayton, but the women you read about deserve the credit. We only help them use the law to change the course of their lives.”

“So you say. That pasta looks good. Smells even better. Are you going to share?”

He didn’t strike her as a man who would share his food with a woman. And he definitely didn’t seem like one who’d lean across the table and take a bite from her fork. Would wonders never cease?

“Be happy to,” she said, forking him up a taste.

His mouth curved into a smile as she held the fork out, and sure enough, instead of taking the fork from her, he rose slightly in his seat and leaned forward, gray eyes dancing. “I don’t usually let women feed me.”

She pulled the fork back before he could take a bite. “I’ll only feed you if you promise to feed me some of your trout.”

Fire roared in his eyes then, all playfulness gone. “If it pleases you…”

Her belly tightened. Oh, how she wanted this man. “You always please me.”

He took the bite and sat back, chewing thoughtfully. “Delicious. And I didn’t always please you.”

She tried the pasta herself and nearly swooned. On days like this, she wished she’d been born an Italian so she could eat pasta every day without getting fat. Why didn’t Italians ever seem to get fat eating so many carbs? It just wasn’t fair.

“I didn’t always please you either, but we please each other now. That’s all that matters, right?”

He cut his trout with deftness, like a man who was used to order. “If you say so, princess.”

When he handed her his fork, she gave him a hard glance. He wasn’t exactly keeping their bargain, and he knew it. She took the bite and handed him back his fork, not bothering to praise his meal, which was really good.

A spurt of frustration rose inside her over his hot-and-cold demeanor, so she focused on her glorious pasta instead. The combination of flavors in her mouth was an almost indecent pleasure. She might not adore food like Rye did—her mama would never have allowed one of her daughters to take such pleasure in eating—but she did appreciate good food. Especially now that she could choose what she ate.