More Than Friends (16 page)

“No, I’m glad you came. Make yourself comfortable,” she said as she continued through to the master bathroom. She left the door open, but if Melanie responded, she didn’t hear her over the roar of the blow dryer close to her ear.

When she flipped off the appliance and turned toward the bedroom, she wished she hadn’t. Melanie—stretched out on the bed, her head on Evelyn’s pillow—folded her arm behind her and cradled her head in her palm.
She looks good in my bed.
She admonished herself for the lusty thought. Melanie had come here today seeking her friend, and she needed to be just that—a friend.

“Long week?” She hoped Melanie didn’t notice the way her voice cracked.

“You have no idea.” Melanie smiled, that same familiar smile that never used to make her stomach flip like this.

“I might.” She looked away and rubbed her favorite hair glue between her fingertips, then arranged her hair. A light coat of hair spray finished the look—one her father wouldn’t approve of. He liked her hair slicked back and tightly bound—professional and sophisticated, he called it. But she wore it back every day at work. On her off days, she often preferred it free.

“Kendall asked me to tell you something. I agreed because I hoped you’d rather hear it from me than someone else.” She decided that jumping into Kendall’s news might diffuse some of the awkward tension while they both avoided talking about that big elephant.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Well, that depends on how you approach it. Kendall’s kind of seeing someone. Honestly, I don’t think it’s serious, but she’s introducing her to some of your mutual friends this weekend.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Well, she said mutual friends, so I assumed you knew them.”

“I meant the girlfriend.”

“I know. Does it matter?”

“No. But tell me anyway,” Melanie said.

“It’s Tiffany.”

“Tiffany? Seriously? That’s my replacement?”

“She’s not trying to replace you.”

“But
Tiffany
? She called her a ditz.”

“That’s what I said.”

“I did not see that coming.” Melanie drew her brows together and pressed her mouth into a tight line.

She crossed to sit on the edge of the bed. She’d expected her news to bruise Melanie’s pride, maybe hurt her feeling, but she hadn’t considered that it might cause her to have second thoughts.

“I don’t think it’s serious.” She wanted to take Melanie’s hand, but instead she pressed her palms against her thighs. “Are you—having second thoughts about the breakup?”

Melanie’s eyes, filled with confusion, flew to hers. “No.”

“Because I think Kendall would still get back together with you.”

Melanie shook her head. “It’s not that. I want her to be happy. I just didn’t expect she would pick someone like Tiffany.”

“You expected it would be someone more like you?”

Melanie chuckled. “I guess not. If we were each looking for someone just like each other, we should have just stayed together, huh? I’d expect the next person I date to be totally different from Kendall.”

She nodded. “That makes sense.” Afraid she couldn’t conceal the disappointment in her expression, she turned away and returned to the bathroom. She pretended to be preoccupied with checking her reflection in the mirror. Melanie had said more than once that she thought Kendall and Evelyn were just alike. But less than a week ago, Melanie seemed to be struggling with their relationship in much the same way as she was.

“Evelyn.”

“Yeah?” She didn’t look at her.

“We can get past the awkwardness and stay friends, right?”

“Yeah.” She wanted to believe they could. If Melanie wanted that, she’d try like hell to suppress everything that got in the way. “Come to dinner at my parents’ house with me,” she suggested. An evening with her father tended to make her shut her emotions down. Maybe she could interact more rationally with Melanie under those circumstances.

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. My mom loves you. You can take the focus off me.”

Melanie sat up and brushed her hands over her deep-green T-shirt with her company logo on the left breast. Evelyn didn’t allow her eyes to linger on Melanie’s chest, since she’d just taken a vow of platonic friendship.

“I’m not dressed for dinner.” When she watched Melanie’s legs flex beneath her khaki shorts as she slid off the bed, she told herself she was only assessing Melanie’s clothing.

“You look fine. It’s nothing formal.”

“That’s why you’re obsessing about your appearance.”

She checked her reflection in the mirror one more time, then misted on a subtle scent. “I’m sure there’s some psychological explanation for that, having to do with fortifying myself before facing my father. But you don’t have that issue.”

Melanie laughed. “I know you’re joking—”

“Sort of.”

“But you should be proud of what you’ve accomplished. I’m sure your parents are.”

“Lord, I don’t want to get that deep right now.” She couldn’t get emotional about her complicated family dynamic just before going to dinner. She glanced at her watch. “It’s time. Are you with me?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Great. I should warn you. Mom was asking about you and Kendall so I told her about the split. She’ll probably shower you with sympathy.”

“And you waited until I’d agreed to come tell me this.”

“Yes. Let’s go or we’ll be late.”

“I’ll follow you. Then I’ll be free to leave if the tension becomes unbearable.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Melanie, it’s so good to see you. How are you doing, sweetie?” Margaret Fisher’s face filled with sympathy, from the watery kindness in her blue eyes to the compassionate downturn of her mouth.

“I’m good, Mrs. Fisher.”

“Please, call me Margaret, dear. Now come in, both of you. No need to stand on the stoop.” She moved aside and touched each of their shoulders as they entered.

The first time Melanie had been to the Fisher home, Evelyn had given her a tour of the large Colonial-style house that she’d grown up in. Among the ornate furnishings, Evelyn had pointed out the antique trunk she used to push close to her bed in order to throw a blanket across and make a secret cave. She’d recalled the time, as a teenager, that she climbed out her second-story bedroom window onto the porch roof and shimmied down the post to the railing.

Despite the marked differences in the sites of their upbringing, Evelyn’s memories didn’t seem all that different from hers. Her stories all took place inside a double-wide trailer situated on a half acre of land in a small town thirty minutes from Nashville. Evelyn had grown up in a big, meticulously decorated house. But, as Evelyn pointed out where she played as a child, the happiness shining in her eyes let Melanie know she saw this place as home.

Today, Margaret Fisher welcomed them both in with a wide smile and a look of love for her daughter. The savory aromas of comfort foods filled the air. She could practically taste the roast beef, rich gravy, and yeasty rolls. She imagined there would also be a heaping bowl of mashed potatoes and a vegetable casserole or two.

“Something smells wonderful.”

“Why thank you, dear. Evelyn doesn’t come around often enough, so when she does, I try to feed her well.” Margaret led them into the kitchen where the island was already covered with plates and bowls laden with food.

“I eat plenty.” Evelyn poked out her stomach and rubbed her hand over it. “Too much, sometimes.”

“Please, you’re in better shape than anyone I know.” She pushed Evelyn’s shoulder playfully and felt the flex of her upper-arm muscles. She’d bet the abdominals Evelyn purposely bloated were just as taut, as well.

“Your father got caught up in court, but he should be home any minute.”

She sensed the tension in Evelyn’s posture, but other than a slight tightening at the corner of her jaw, Evelyn’s expression didn’t change. She crossed the kitchen and picked up several small squares of polished stone in variegated shades of brown and tan from the counter.

“Mom, what are these?”

“Samples. I’ve finally talked your father into letting me redo the kitchen. I’m trying to decide which granite will go best with the new cabinets.

“Wow, all new cabinets?”

“Aside from the appliances, this kitchen hasn’t been overhauled since you were a child. I’m working with a designer who is helping me make better use of the space.”

“Better use of the space? Yeah, that sounds like designer-speak.” Evelyn smiled as she leafed through several sketches and floor plans. “Actually, Mel, it sounds like something you’d say.”

“Very funny,” she said.

“Just don’t let them take you for a ride, Mom. Those creative types charge way too much for a few drawings.”

“What? Most of my clients couldn’t draw a stick figure. They couldn’t come up with anything close to my brilliance if their life depended on it.” She protested then looked at Evelyn’s mother and blushed. “I don’t mean you, Mrs. Fisher.”

“No, dear, you’re right.” She nodded solemnly. “Stick figures have always given me problems.”

Melanie laughed and some of the heat drained from her face.

“Would you girls set the table while I bring the food in?”

“Certainly, but I can help with the food, too,” she said. She picked up a bowl of potatoes and followed Evelyn into the dining room. A table, covered with an ivory tablecloth and surrounded by six elegant chairs, dominated the center of the room. She carefully set her bowl down in the center.

She joined Evelyn at the matching sideboard along the far wall. Evelyn counted out four sets of highly polished silverware, setting each piece down next to a stack of silver-rimmed plates.

“This is nice.” She touched the ornate pattern on the end of a fork. She preferred a simpler, classic design, but these were obviously of good quality and well-cared for.

“She’ll want to use the good stuff.”

“Of course. Your attendance is a special occasion,” Melanie said.

“Don’t let her brainwash you, too. I visit plenty.”

“She’s your mother. You couldn’t be here enough for her.” Melanie laughed and returned to the kitchen for another dish of food. As they carried way too much food for four people into the living room, she deflected questions from Margaret about how she was coping with the breakup.

“I feel badly that I hurt Kendall, but I made my decision based on the hope that both of us can be happy.” Uncomfortable with Margaret’s sympathy she tried to tactfully dismiss her concern.

She was saved from further questioning when Evelyn’s father came home. As he entered the kitchen, Margaret immediately shifted her attention to him.

“We’re ready to sit down to dinner, dear,” she said as she took his coat and briefcase and placed them in the closet in the hall just outside the dining room.

“Sorry I’m late.” He smoothed a hand over his hair, though she couldn’t see a strand out of place.

“It’s quite all right.”

“Good evening, Melanie. I’m glad you could join us,” he said. He loosened his tie and then rolled up his shirtsleeves, revealing a thick, silver wristwatch.

“Thank you, sir.”

“How’s business?” One of her best crews maintained the landscaping at Evelyn’s parents’ home.

“Very good.”

“Wonderful. It’s quite impressive, the way you’ve brought the company along over the years.”

“I have some good people working for me and that helps tremendously.”

“Certainly. But like anything else, ultimately, your commitment is what makes it work.”

She nodded, but she sensed he might be talking about more than business and wondered what either Evelyn or Margaret might have told him about her relationship. Did he think she hadn’t worked hard enough? He couldn’t possibly know enough about her situation to justify judgment. Feeling defensive, she forced herself to take a deep breath. His words and tone had left open the possibility that he was simply talking about business, and she decided to believe that was so.

Margaret called them into the dining room and they settled around the table, Charles and Margaret at either end and she and Evelyn seated on the sides, across from each other. At Margaret’s urging, they joined hands and said grace before passing the serving dishes.

She and Evelyn filled their plates under Margaret’s watchful eye. She tried to balance taking enough food to satisfy Margaret with how much she actually thought she could eat. Luckily, she stayed active enough at work to keep her metabolism up or she would need several miles on the treadmill to counteract this meal.

“Everything is delicious,” she said after tasting a few scrumptious bites.

“Thank you, dear. Have as much as you’d like. When we’re through, I’ll fix you girls a couple of plates to take home.”

She met Evelyn’s eyes, reading the apology in them. She smiled, trying to let Evelyn know she was having a good time. When the tension remained in Evelyn’s expression, Melanie winked at her. The corner of Evelyn’s mouth lifted in a half smile, and then she looked down at her plate.

“Evelyn, the firm has a position open that I thought you might be interested in. With your background—”

“I have a job.”

“Hear me out. One of our investigators has left. It pays quite well, certainly more than a government salary.”

“No, thank you.”

She didn’t need to hear the finality in Evelyn’s tone to know that the subject wasn’t open for discussion. Evelyn had complained about similar offers over the years. She didn’t hold the investigators who dug up dirt to help defend criminals in any higher esteem than the attorneys themselves.

“You don’t want to be a beat cop for the rest of your life, do you?”

Evelyn clamped her mouth shut on what was surely a defensive response. Her shoulders lifted as she took a fortifying breath. “I like what I do. But if the right opportunity comes along, I’m willing to make a change. A position at your firm is not the opportunity I’m looking for.”

Charles looked like he wanted to argue, but before he had a chance, Evelyn changed the subject.

“Mom, how’s the new pastor at church working out?”

“Very well. He’s intelligent and enthusiastic. But he’s young, so some of the older ladies are resisting his charms.”