Secrets over Sweet Tea (4 page)

Miss Daisy followed closely. The dog could smell food like a reporter could find bad news.

Five boys . . .
Grace settled into the porch rocker and curled her feet under her. What would she have done with five boys? She wished she’d had the chance to discover that. The icing dripped on her finger. She licked it off, pulled off a little piece of bun, and stuck it down for Miss Daisy. The dog threw her head back and chomped as if she were eating a pork chop. “You’re supposed to savor it, Miss Daisy. Not scarf it.”

The door to the porch opened. “Morning, Gracie.”

She turned. Tyler’s brown hair stuck out all over his head, though that was pretty much how he wore it most of the time. His eyes were bloodshot, his gait slow. He leaned down and gave her a peck on the cheek, his five-day scruff rubbing against her skin and the stale smell of last night’s activities as familiar as Miss Daisy’s attitude. The disappointment she felt over this new friend he’d invited into their marriage over the past few years was no longer a passing feeling. It was as consistent a presence in her heart as the empty Santa dishes were in her moving boxes.

“Morning,” she said. “How did you rest?”

“Good. Good. Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, it’s a pastry. A neighbor brought it. She lives a couple of doors down. Sweet lady.” She stuck another bite in her mouth.

“Smells good. But I know it can’t be as good as the ones you make.”

Grace usually made homemade cinnamon rolls every Monday for Leo. They were his favorite. She always left a few on the counter for Tyler. He loved her cooking. And she couldn’t deny that her cinnamon rolls were good. On her darker days, in fact, she would make a batch and eat most of them herself—then she’d climb onto the treadmill and work it off for an hour. It was a sad way to self-medicate, though better, she supposed, than Tyler’s choice. But she said, “Don’t be so sure. This is pretty wonderful.”

“I’m going to grab one, then head out to the Sportsplex for some PT,” he said. “And I’ve got that fund-raiser fashion show tonight for Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital.”

She felt her body stiffen. “Tyler, I can’t unpack this house by myself.”

His jaw twitched. Then his words came out with a familiar edge—an edge she never got used to, one that turned quickly into seething or an outright explosion. “We’ll get it done when we get it done, Grace. You might just have to live with a little clutter for a while.”

She hated clutter. She hated undoneness.

He reached down to scratch Miss Daisy’s head. “You girls have a good day. I’ll be home in a couple of hours, and we can take back the truck. But I won’t be able to start unpacking until tomorrow.”

“What time is the fund-raiser?”

He ran his hands over his face and through his hair. “I think it’s seven. But, Gracie, you don’t have to come.”

“I already RSVP’d before I knew we were moving this weekend.”

“That’s silly. You know you go to bed by seven thirty. And you look awful. I mean, exhausted.”

His way with words never ceased to amaze her. “I want to come,” she said more firmly. “You don’t do that much in Franklin, so when you’re here, I like to come. You know that.”

He hesitated just a second too long. “Okay. Cool.” He leaned down again and gave her another peck. “Now I’m going to go eat whatever that is you’re eating and then get some therapy for this beat-up old body of mine. I’ll see you later.”

She didn’t respond. He closed the door behind him.

Why did everything have to be an issue? She let out a deep sigh. She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath.

Zach walked into the large conference room at his office. He caught a glimpse of the old-but-new Franklin Theatre marquee before turning his gaze to the woman who sat at the table. Her fear was as palpable as the chair he had just pulled back. He extended his hand. “Hello, I’m Zach Craig.”

She barely moved. “Marissa Martin. Thank you for seeing me.”

He studied her striking blue eyes. They stood out in stark contrast to the white hair that framed her face. It wasn’t a gray white, but a frosted white or something. A beautiful woman for her age. Classy. But her expression made it evident she didn’t feel beautiful today.

He sat down and tried to be wise with each word he chose. “Would you like to tell me why you’re here?”

She shook her head. The tears that filled her eyes made him
suspect that gestures might be all he’d get for a while. “Tough day, huh?”

She nodded this time and dabbed at her eyes with a wadded tissue.

He placed his arms on the table. The sleeves of his white button-down creased in the folds of each arm. “Am I the first lawyer you’ve consulted about this matter?”

She dabbed again. The nod followed a moment later.

“Well, why don’t you just start wherever you need to, and we’ll go from there. I’m in no hurry, so take your time.”

The corners of her mouth turned down in an effort to hold back the surge that could erupt at any moment. Zach had seen it more times than he could count. They’d try so hard to stop it, but pain wouldn’t always bow to sheer will.

She exhaled slowly. “I’ve been married for twenty-five years, Mr. Craig.”

“No formalities here. I’m just Zach.”

She brought her hands down, resting them on the edge of the planked-wood conference table. Her fingers laced as if by instinct. He noticed the white tips on her nails. “Zach. My husband and I have walked a long road, a road I would have walked with him anywhere. But I think it’s far worse than I ever imagined.” Tears raced down her cheeks. She let them fall without apology, then took took a deep breath and collected herself.

“I have one beautiful daughter. She’s in college now and will be devastated by all of this, so I am trying to take care of it as quietly as possible.”

His leather chair squeaked slightly as he leaned back and listened.

“My husband admitted to me quite a few years ago that he was struggling with pornography. I’d known that in my gut for years—known something was wrong. But whenever I asked, he tried to make me think I was crazy. I’ve learned since that denial runs pretty deep and wide with such issues. But once he finally told me, I felt like we had a real chance. That we could really put it behind us and heal.”

“But it’s not behind you?”

She lowered her head and shook it. “Not at all. And it’s not just the pornography. I’ve found some other things. Phone records. Solicitations. Things I never dreamed.” She looked up. “I put some spyware on the computer.”

“It’s not on his work computer, is it? Because it is only legal on home computers.”

“No. It’s on my computer. Can you believe that? He was using
my
computer.” Her voice broke. “My daughter would be devastated. I can’t let her know.”

He patted her hand. “I understand. I do. But let’s not worry about that right now. Right now you’re just in my office telling me what’s going on, that’s all. Let’s worry about those things when we get there. Okay?”

She nodded, and he could tell she was grateful for his presence. Her composure returned.

“So you’re saying you have tangible evidence that your husband has been soliciting sex on the Internet?”

“Yes. The spyware records a digital image. It takes a screenshot every five seconds, and it also records every keystroke that is made on the computer. So I got the password to his e-mail account and learned he’s been hooking up with people from craigslist. I didn’t even know you could do stuff like that.
I thought you bought used furniture on craigslist. I’m such an idiot.” Her fingers rubbed her temples.

“You’re not an idiot. You can find anything you want nowadays. Trust me. You barely have to search. Does your husband have any idea you know anything?”

She shook her head.

“You’ve been keeping this a secret?”

“Yes. I needed to know two things. I needed to have information to protect myself and my daughter, and I needed to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was no retrieving my marriage. I needed all of that before I came here.”

“And you believe your marriage is definitely over.”

The tears fell now before she could even nod. Her next words came out almost a whisper. “This is my line in the sand.”

“Are you able to hang on a few more weeks?”

He saw a slight panic return to her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean don’t talk to him yet, keep your secret a little longer. I’d like to take a look at what you have, make sure we have enough to show that he is committing adultery.” His next words came out quickly to try to avoid her panic. “You might have plenty. I just want to make sure you’re covered.”

He could tell she didn’t want to wait. He’d seen this before too. By the time people worked up the courage to come see him, they were almost desperate to move forward.

“You’re going to need the same strength that got you in my office today to carry you through the next two weeks.”

She bit her lip. “He’s going out of town this week, so that will help.”

“Well, you’ve done a great job. And if he’s going out of town,
he’ll probably do something else that will give you even more evidence. Let’s just see what he does.”

“You’re sure?”

“Marissa, if you can’t make it another day, you can go home tonight and tell him. I’ll understand that completely. But since you’ve kept your secret this long, I think it would benefit you and your daughter in the long run to follow this thing all the way through.”

Her eyes cleared and she nodded. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

“Any questions you have for me?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Okay, well, get me what you have as soon as you can and let me know if anything new develops once he’s out of town. Then we’ll get the next pieces of our plan ready. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to hire a private investigator either.” He watched the fear return to her face. “I have a couple of great ones I work with a lot. They could follow him if he’s staying within the state.”

Her words came out in stutters. “He’s going to Memphis.”

He walked to the large console that sat against one of the walls and opened the top drawer. He pulled out a couple of cards and handed them to her. “Only if you want to. It’s just another layer of protection.”

She took the cards slowly as she stood. Then she extended her hand. “Thank you, Mr.—um, Zach. I so appreciate it. Now, what about your fee?”

“I charge two hundred dollars an hour and require a twenty-five-hundred-dollar retainer. Usually it ends up being a little more. But honestly, with all the legwork you are already doing, we will probably end up pretty close to that. I can give you a contract to look over if you want.”

She exhaled slowly. “That isn’t as bad as I thought. Sure, yes.”

He reached into another drawer and pulled a contract from one of the manila folders inside. When he handed it to her, she tucked it into the portfolio she had brought with her.

“Well, thank you again.”

“You’re very welcome. We’ll do this together, okay?”

She gave him the best smile she had in her. He patted her arm and walked her to the door. After he closed it behind her, he moved to the window.

He pulled at his pastel-striped bow tie as he stared at the Franklin Main Street activity. It wasn’t lunchtime yet, so most of the passersby were either retirees, visitors, or stay-at-home moms. He watched Marissa climb into her car and found himself wondering what Caroline’s words would sound like to a lawyer. He shook the thought off. He didn’t have to worry about Caroline. His wife was too wrapped up in her own world to suspect that something could be going on in his. He breathed a grateful sigh. Sometimes narcissism was actually a good thing.

“Slap him again, Cooper. Mama dares you.” Scarlett Jo set the plate of fried chicken down on the counter. “You may be thirteen years old, but you are not too old to be spanked.”

Cooper rubbed the top of his head, mimicking his little brother, his hand moving his disheveled brown locks into another state of disarray. He spooned some rice onto his plate without saying a word.

“Mom, I can’t eat this.” Forrest stood in protest, nodding toward the chicken.

She moved the pot of field peas to a pot holder on top of the island and looked at her secondborn. “Forrest, look at your mother, baby. Tucker doesn’t eat fried foods because they make him gassy. He has a legitimate excuse not to eat what’s put in
front of him. But I happen to know that you love your mama’s fried chicken, and it’s never disagreed with you. It sure hasn’t killed me. And think of your grandparents. Your grandmother is still alive and kicking. Okay, more alive than kicking, but she fried chicken every day for forty years of her life to feed all the men working in Daddy’s tobacco fields. If it was good enough for them, it’s good enough for you.”

Forrest stood there, his plate pressed against his University of Tennessee T-shirt. “But, Mom, it’s meat.”

Now she remembered. Two days ago Forrest had seen some kind of documentary on TV and announced he was now a vegetarian. Last year he had given up vegetables because of insecticides. That had lasted until she made fried okra a week later. Who knew how long this one might last?

She stuck a spoon into the peas and placed her hands on the counter. “Forrest, I do apologize for forgetting. But you know Mama’s got you covered. So get you some extra peas and butter beans for protein, and I’ll try to figure out how to chicken-fry tofu. But what I will tell you is that God made the chicken, and he taught us Southerners how to fry it, and I personally am certain he is going to serve it at the marriage supper of the Lamb. And I—”

“Oh my, something smells so good,” Jackson declared as he strode into the kitchen, gave Scarlett Jo a kiss on the cheek, and picked up a plate. “Boys, do you know how lucky you are to have a mother who makes this kind of meal for you? When I was growing up, my mother never did this.”

“Dad, we know,” said Jack, the oldest and his father’s namesake. “Your mother never cooked. You ate cereal for dinner. You’ve told us that story a million times.”

Jackson put a chicken thigh on his plate. “I have more where that came from.”

“I love your stories, Daddy.” Seven-year-old Rhett, the youngest, joined the conversation. Jackson had refused to name a child Rhett four times in a row. When the fifth child turned out to be another boy instead of the girl Scarlett Jo yearned for, he’d finally given in. He’d warned her that one day Rhett would realize he had to live with that name forever and would never speak to them again. But so far Rhett didn’t seem to mind. He was as easygoing about the name as he was about the rest of his life.

They all gathered around the table, and Jackson gave thanks. As usual, the discussion was lively and boisterous, and Scarlett Jo reveled in it. This was the best time of her day.

As soon as Jackson finished his meal, the four youngest immediately asked to be excused. The rule was, no one could leave until the last person was finished. Jackson was always the last to finish, so his final bite usually triggered a general exodus. But Jack didn’t rush away from the table tonight.

“How was your day, Son?” Jackson asked.

Jack picked another homemade biscuit from the basket that sat on the table, then reached for the jar of King Syrup and poured some on his plate. He talked as he put a spoonful of butter into his syrup and began to stir. “It was good.”

Scarlett Jo folded her napkin and put it on her plate, then leaned her elbows on the table. She watched as Jack scooped his biscuit through the buttered syrup and enjoyed studying the man her oldest was becoming. Even though he bore no physical resemblance to his father, he was the most like him in personality—strong, kind, and steady.

“Did you see Sarah today?” Scarlett Jo asked. Sarah was Jack’s friend who happened to be a girl. Scarlett Jo secretly hoped they would marry someday.

“Mom, I went to school. Sarah goes there. I see her every day.”

“Were you nice to her?” Scarlett Jo prompted, hoping for more.

Jack spooned another large helping of the syrup mixture onto his biscuit and took a big bite. Scarlett Jo couldn’t help but smile. She loved nothing more than watching her babies eat her cooking.

Then, before you could blink, Jack crammed the rest of the biscuit in his mouth and stood up from the table. Way up. At seventeen, he was already a few inches taller than her five-foot-eleven frame.

“Mom, I’m charming and a Southern gentleman,” he mumbled through his last bite as he scraped his plate into the disposal. “Of course I was nice to her.” He put the plate in the dishwasher, then came over and kissed her on the cheek. “But you’re the only woman for me. And that was a great dinner. I’ll eat your fried chicken any day.”

Her heart melted, and she beamed up at him, eyes glistening. He placed a hand on his dad’s shoulder. “Want to go look at that car with me? It’s a little more than I’ve got saved, but I think I can talk the guy down.”

“Sure, bud. Let me help your mother with the kitchen and we’ll go.”

“Okay. Just holler when you’re ready.”

“Will do.” Jackson smiled at Scarlett Jo as their eldest left the room. “You are the only woman for me too, and I
love
your fried chicken.”

She cocked her head and fanned her face, frantically trying to dry the tears. Her children called her a crybaby. She told them she got it from them.

She picked up the chicken platter, covered it in plastic, and stuck it in the refrigerator. Jackson carried the remaining dishes to the dishwasher and started loading them in. “So how did you like our new neighbor?”

She froze for a moment but quickly went back into motion. He always knew. He had a sixth sense or something. “She was cute. But she looked like I had woken her up from a nap.” Before he could say anything, she held up her hand. “I know, I know. You told me not to, but I went over anyway.”

“People who have just spent the last two days moving don’t necessarily want visitors.” He reached in and repositioned a glass. “I hope you at least took her something nutritious.”

She scraped leftover peas into a plastic container, then handed Jackson the bowl. “Oh yeah. Super healthy.”

“You’re pitiful.” He fitted the pea bowl expertly next to the plates and closed the dishwasher. “Listen, babe, do you mind finishing up here? I need to return a couple of phone calls, then go look at that car with Jack. And if there’s any daylight left, I want to throw the ball with Cooper. We have a baseball game tomorrow night, you know.”

“Go, A’s!” she shouted. Then she added, “Go. I’ve got this covered.”

He pulled her to him in a big hug. And made her wonder if maybe
this
was the best part of her day.

Jackson made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth before he left with Jack. Scarlett Jo tidied the counter and wiped
it down, their conversation about the neighbor lingering in her mind.

She was sweeping the floor when it hit her. The woman. Her face. The news. No wonder Grace Shepherd looked familiar. She was on TV—on that newscast Scarlett Jo liked.

“Jack!” she hollered.

“Yeah?” he called from upstairs.

She put her hands on her hips. “Yeah?”

He autocorrected. “Ma’am?”

“I need a googler!”

He walked down the stairs from the bonus room. “Mom, you’ve got to learn how to work a computer.”

She stared at him like he had three heads. “Jack, I have five children. You don’t have five children because you want to do things for yourself. You have five children so that when they are able, they can be your slaves. So come down here and get to work. I want you to google Channel 4 news in Nashville and show me a picture of the morning newscasters.”

The computer was tucked into a small desk area in the kitchen. Jack pulled up a chair and tapped at some keys.

“I still think the word
Google
sounds like a disease.”

“Mom, seriously, do you have to say that every time?”

The Internet browser came to life. “Did I tell you the Jeffersons are moving to Alma, Wisconsin?”

His fingers kept moving. “Where?”

She leaned over his shoulder. “It’s this little teeny town. Doesn’t even have a Walmart.”

Jack smirked. “So how can they even live?”

“I know, right? Can you say, ‘Hello, Internet shopping’?”

He looked at her and shook his head. “Mom, you are so weird.”

That was when she saw it. The face of her new neighbor popped up. “That’s her, Jack!”

“Who?”

“That’s our neighbor. The new neighbor I met this morning.”

“She’s hot.”

She slapped him on the back of the head.

“Ow.” He rubbed his head as he walked away. “Well, glad I could help you with that.”

Scarlett Jo leaned over the screen, trying to peer through the finger smudges. That was her for sure. Her new neighbor was the Channel 4 morning news anchor. No wonder the child was tired this afternoon. The woman had just moved, and then she had gone to work this morning before the crack of dawn.

She was going to go see Grace Shepherd again tomorrow, but she wouldn’t take her pastries. Tomorrow she’d take her a Starbucks double espresso.

After Jackson had gone to work, of course. Yeah, definitely after that.

SOL Restaurant on Main Street offered a refreshing alternative to the chain restaurants abundant in Franklin. The girls loved it, and so did Zach. If he needed a way to make them happy, this usually worked.

“Lacy, would you close your mouth?” Joy’s face contorted as she stared at her twin. “It’s gross. The way you eat is absolutely disgusting.”

Lacy glared at her sister and exaggerated the chewing motions. “At least I eat.”

Joy rolled her big blue eyes and nibbled a leaf from her salad. “At least I’m not fat like you.”

“Dad, she talks like that to me all the time. She thinks she’s all that. You ought to see how she walks around school—like she’s too good for anybody.”

The whine in Lacy’s voice grated on Zach. The last thing he wanted at a nice restaurant on a Monday night was a Lacy meltdown. They could be loud and long and very unattractive.

He looked down at his seafood enchilada and changed the subject. “Why don’t we talk about next year? I can’t believe that you two are going to high school. I mean, where did my little girls go?” He picked up another chip and dipped it in the tableside homemade guacamole. This alone was worth the trip.

Joy didn’t try to hide her disdain. “Dad, this is so silly. We aren’t little girls anymore.” She ran her hands through her long red hair. It was the same color as her mother’s, though Caroline got help with hers these days.

“You’ll always be my little girls.”

The Lacy meltdown was averted as she dove straight into the conversation, her rich green eyes animated. The animation and the eyes were just like her mother’s. “Dad, you seriously are going to have to realize that we’re growing up. I mean, we’ll be getting our driver’s permits next fall.”

“Oh no. You two driving? I don’t want to think about that right now. Instead, let’s think about all the things you’re going to do with your father this summer. And how you won’t be driving or dating until you’re thirty.”

“Dad, Mom has a lot of plans for us this summer. She’s taking us on an all-girls vacation to the beach. That’s why I got this new summer haircut.” Lacy patted her brown hair. It was cut
about chin length. He hadn’t even registered the change. Nor had he heard about their summer plans, ones he apparently wasn’t going to be a part of.

“Oh, babe, it’s cute. Super cute.”

She turned her head. “You didn’t even notice. I had to tell you.”

Joy saved him from himself. “And Lacy has two summer camps, and I have two summer camps. So I’m not sure what you have in mind, but with all we have going on and hanging out with our friends and stuff, there won’t be a lot of time for father-daughter outings.”

He cut another piece of his enchilada. “Oh, well . . . okay. It sounds like you have most of the summer planned, then.”