Spring Fever (19 page)

“Only until Friday. Although Celia suggested earlier I should get the hell out right away because she’s having my office painted for my successor.”

“And you said?”

Annajane gave her a conspiratorial grin. “That I couldn’t possibly vacate the premises that early.”

“Good for you,” Pokey said. “Until Friday, you’re still on the company payroll, so you actually do have a dog in this hunt. If Celia is plotting to take over the company or sell it off to the highest bidder, or whatever, this is an emergency. You have to help.”

“You’re being overly dramatic,” Annajane said. “Maybe Celia was talking about something else entirely. I only heard a few sentence fragments, and we can’t be sure…”

“Hey!” Pokey said, interrupting. “Oh my God.” She held her hand over her heart, as though she were having palpitations. “I just realized we’ve both overlooked one incredibly important fact.”

“That you can save a pony’s life by nagging your parents?”

“No,” Pokey said, a slow smile spreading across her round pink face. “I think we’re both forgetting how much my daddy loved you.”

“I’m not forgetting that,” Annajane said. “Your daddy was always wonderful to me. Treated me like I was his own daughter.”

“He sure did,” Pokey agreed, nodding her head for emphasis. “He loved you so much he gave you your own stock in the company as a wedding gift, didn’t he?”

Annajane’s mouth fell open. “You’re right. I had forgotten. Five hundred shares. He drove over to my mama’s house the morning of the wedding. He wouldn’t come inside, but I went out on the porch and he handed me an envelope, and kissed me on the cheek and told me I’d made him a very happy man. I didn’t even know what a stock certificate looked like before that.”

“You never gave the stock back, right? Not in the divorce or anything, right?”

“I still have it,” Annajane said, sitting back in her chair. “I hadn’t thought about it in ages. And I bet Mason hasn’t either.”

“So there’s a chance Celia doesn’t know you own stock in Quixie,” Pokey said.

“It’s just five hundred shares,” Annajane pointed out. “A drop in the bucket compared to what you all own.”

“True,” Pokey said. “Still, down the line, that could be important. We won’t know until Mr. Thomas meets with us about that stupid trust agreement. Right now, we’ve got to figure out what Celia is up to. And then we have to get Mason to open his eyes and see her for the scheming, manipulative little bitch that she is. And get him to realize he still loves you.”

“In a week,” Annajane said. “No problem. Easy. Peasy. We should be able to get that done by Monday lunchtime.”

“We need to do some research on Celia,” Pokey went on, ignoring Annajane. She reached into her pocketbook and brought out a pen. “What was the name of her company?”

“Gingerpeachy,” Annajane said.

Pokey was making notes on the back of her paper placemat. “And it sold to who?”

“I think the company is called Baby Brands,” Annajane said. “I guess I could look up the announcement of the deal on the Internet.”

“Do that,” Pokey said, scribbling. She put down her pen. “Who do we know that might know something we can use against Celia?”

“I don’t know anybody,” Annajane said. “She’s not from around here, didn’t go to school in the South. This is impossible. Celia’s from a whole different world from us.”

“Don’t be such a defeatist,” Pokey scolded. “Come on, think, Annajane, dammit.”

“I think Celia is from Nebraska,” Annajane said. “Do we know anybody in Nebraska?”

“We don’t know anybody who even knows where Nebraska is, probably,” Pokey said. “But I’ll google Celia’s name, just in case. Who knows? Maybe she’s a wanted murderess. In the meantime, one of my sorority sisters is a buyer for Belk’s. Maybe she’d know somebody who knows somebody. I’ll give her a call.”

“It’s too bad we can’t ask Davis what he knows about all this,” Annajane said.

“Ha! He’s the one we have to thank for bringing that pit viper into the family bosom in the first place,” Pokey said. “Davis thinks Celia is ‘awesome.’” She made finger quote marks.

“And you can’t really ask Mason any questions about Celia,” Annajane said. “What about your mama?”

Pokey toyed with a forkful of coleslaw. “Are you kidding? Celia’s the daughter Sallie never had! Let’s see. She’s beautiful and skinny, plays tennis and golf, always looks perfect, and she’s got an adding machine instead of a soul. Yup, Celia’s everything I’m not. Mama’s even giving her bridge lessons. Plus, she sucks up to Sallie every chance she gets. It’s revolting.”

“Hey,” Annajane said sharply. “You’re beautiful. Inside and out. You’re a great wife, friend, mother, sister. You’re what Celia will never be.”

Pokey blew her a kiss. “Back atya.”

“How do you think Sallie would feel about the company being sold, or moved, or whatever?”

“Good question,” Pokey said. “If Daddy were still alive, the answer would be a big ‘hell no!’”

“But he’s not.”

“I know,” Pokey said. “She’s always talked about Quixie being our family legacy. But if this were something Mason wanted, or if Davis convinced her it was a good idea, she might just go along with it.”

“But it’s not something you’d agree to, right?”

Pokey stared at her best friend. “Not in a million years. Not for a billion dollars. My brothers may think the grass is greener someplace else, but I don’t. Passcoe is home. We were raised here. I intend to raise my own children here. And I don’t intend to let anybody change that. Not without putting up a hell of a fight.”

“That’s what I thought,” Annajane said, smiling.

“And what about you?” Pokey asked. “You’re supposed to be leaving town Friday. That’s what you keep telling me.”

“I’d hate to see anything happen to Quixie,” Annajane said, trying to choose her words carefully. “If the company got sold, or moved, or swallowed up by a bigger company, it could be devastating to Passcoe. I’m like you. No matter where I go or what I do, this is my hometown. And Quixie is a huge part of that. It’s a part of me and who I am and what I’ve been doing for the past eight years. Yeah, I know it’s just cherry soda. But I don’t want to see Quixie get swallowed up or closed down. I can’t promise anything, but I can make some phone calls, and ask around. I want to find out what Celia’s up to.”

“And if she’s up to what we suspect?”

“I don’t know,” Annajane said.

“Have you talked to Shane? Did you tell him about Mason’s wedding?”

“We talked late last night,” Annajane said. “I didn’t mention the wedding. Didn’t think it was important. Not to Shane, anyway.”

“I see,” Pokey said.

“No you don’t,” Annajane said with a moan. “This is all just a big mess. And I don’t know how to fix it. He wants me to move in with him, Pokey. As soon as I get to Atlanta. And he doesn’t see why we should wait til fall to get married. I tried to explain to him, everything is all happening so fast. I love him, but I want it to slow down. Just a little.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” Pokey asked.

“Yes. No. I can’t explain how I feel. Something’s just … making me want to hold back. Maybe I’m just gun-shy about marriage, after what happened with Mason.”

“No,” Pokey insisted. “You are gun-shy because you don’t really love Shane. You’re still in love with Mason. And you’re scared to death to admit that Shane is rebound guy.”

“Oh Gawwwd,” Annajane said, burying her head in her hands. “You can’t be right.”

“But what if I am?” Pokey asked.

15

Sophie’s eyelids fluttered. She yawned widely and looked around the room.

“You’re awake,” Celia said brightly. “Did you have a nice rest?”

“Where did Annajane and Aunt Pokey go?” Sophie demanded. “We were watching
Milo and Otis.
”

“You were sleeping, and they had to leave,” Celia said. “But look what I brought you!” She propped the huge stuffed bunny on the pillow next to Sophie.

“Thank you very much,” Sophie said politely, clutching the teddy bear the nurse had given her the night before and ignoring the bunny.

“You’re welcome,” Celia said. She whisked the plastic off the plate of wedding cake she’d placed on Sophie’s dinner tray. “And look at this beautiful cake I brought you. It’s our wedding cake!”

“It’s pretty,” Sophie said.

“Shall I get you a fork?” Celia asked. “We can ring the nurse and get her to bring one. And maybe some nice cold milk.”

“No,” Sophie said, shaking her head. “I’m only ’lowed to have Jell-O. And apple juice.”

Celia laughed. “Who told you that?”

“Daddy.”

“Oh, well, daddies don’t know everything,” Sophie winced as Celia’s tinkly laugh filled the room. Mason pushed through the door. “What’s this?” he said, trying to sound stern. “Since when don’t daddies know everything?”

“I was just about to tell Sophie it wouldn’t hurt for her to have a little piece of our wedding cake and some milk,” Celia explained, snaking her arm around Mason’s waist.

“She actually isn’t allowed to have something like that,” Mason said.

“See!” Sophie smirked.

“Sophie…” Mason said, trying to look stern. “That’s not nice. Celia didn’t know the doctor doesn’t want you having much in the way of real food just yet—this soon after surgery.”

“Oh,” Celia said. “Well, of course. In that case, we’ll just freeze some cake for her, and she can have it later, after she comes home from the hospital.”

“I don’t like wedding cake,” Sophie said stubbornly.

Celia cocked her head and considered the little girl. “How do you know? I’ll bet you’ve never even tasted wedding cake.”

“Have too!” Sophie shouted vehemently. “Have too, have too, have too.”

“All right,” Celia said with a note of resignation. “If you say so, that’s fine.”

“She was a flower girl at my cousin’s wedding last summer,” Mason said. He gave Sophie another stern look. “But that is no way to talk to Celia. I’d like you to tell her you’re sorry for being rude.”

“I’m sorry for being rude,” Sophie said. She pulled the sheet up until it completely covered her head. Her voice was muffled. “Now go away.”

Celia shrugged and reached for her pocketbook. She patted Sophie’s sheet-covered knee. “All right, lamb-chop. I’m going now. Feel better fast so we can bring you home!”

Mason shook his head. “I’ll talk to her,” he said in a low voice. “She’s not herself.”

Celia arched one eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“I’ll call you later,” Mason said, kissing her cheek.

“Tell Celia good-bye, Sophie,” Mason said.

“Good-bye, Sophie,” the little girl singsonged.

*   *   *

Mason was sitting in the living room, reviewing a memo about maintenance costs for the Quixie truck fleet when he heard a key turn in the front door.

Celia bumped the door open with her hip. She was carrying a large sack of groceries and had an overnight bag slung over her shoulder.

“Let me get that,” Mason said, jumping up to take the packages from her. He kissed her cheek and glanced at the contents of the sack. “What’s all this?”

“Dinner for two,” Celia said, heading for the kitchen. “You haven’t eaten already, have you?”

“Uh, no,” he said, following her into the kitchen and hoping she wouldn’t find the greasy brown paper takeout bag from the Smokey Pig. “I was waiting to see what you wanted to do.”

He put the groceries down on the kitchen counter. Celia wound her arms around his neck. “I just want to spend a quiet evening all alone with my man tonight. I want to cook him a gorgeous dinner, and drink some gorgeous wine, and later on, maybe show him just what he missed out on last night.”

“You mean like a wedding? Hey, it’s gonna happen. We just have to get Sophie…”

Celia gave him a coy smile. She unzipped the overnight bag and presented, with a flourish, a filmy black scrap of fabric, only slightly larger than a handkerchief. She held it up to her torso.

“I mean like a wedding night. I thought since you didn’t get to see this last night, maybe we’d have a showing tonight.”

Celia kissed him, and he kissed her back, and she pressed herself tightly against him, and his body responded in a predictable way.

“Mmm,” Celia purred. But she pulled away. “Now don’t try to distract me,” she said, wagging a finger at him, as though he’d been a naughty schoolboy. “I have to get this dinner going.”

Mason leaned back against the counter. “Need me to do anything?”

“Not really,” Celia said. “I thought we’d just have a big, juicy pan-seared steak and some baked potatoes and garlic-creamed spinach. I looked up the recipe from that steak house in Charleston that you love. Oh, and a salad.”

Celia removed a head of romaine from a plastic bag and rinsed it under the faucet.

“Mase?”

“Hmm?” He was staring out the kitchen window at a robin hopping around on the grass outside. He’d talked about putting in a garden out there. It was nice and sunny, but Celia didn’t want the lawn disturbed, and, anyway, she’d informed him that tomato cages and pepper plants looked “trashy.”

She hesitated. “I had a call from an old friend last week. I think maybe you might have met him around? Jerry Kelso?”

Maybe if he put the tomato plants in some nice wooden planter boxes or something? That wouldn’t look trashy, right?

“Kelso?” He frowned. “The president of Jax Snax? You know him?”

“Davis introduced us at a marketing thing in Houston a few months ago.”

Jerry Kelso was a name that had been on Mason’s mind for weeks. Ever since Kelso requested a confidential meeting six weeks earlier. He hadn’t said anything to anybody about the meeting, and was hoping that might be the end of the issue. But apparently, it wasn’t going to be.

“Oh, yeah,” Mason said. “Now I remember the name. What’s up with Kelso? He trying to recruit you away from Quixie?”

She laughed the tinkly laugh, and it sent a shiver down his spine, as though someone had walked over Mason’s grave. What was up with that?

“As if I’d leave Quixie. Or you.”

“As if,” Mason agreed.

“Did you know Jax Snax is the second largest packaged chip and cookie baker in the Eastern U.S.?” Celia asked.