We Interrupt This Date (25 page)

“You do what you have to do just like all the rest of
the world.” He shrugged.

“That’s right. I’m glad you understand.”

“Sure, I get it. I guess I always did.” He stared at
his watch. His expression was pretty much blank. “Is that all? I’m
meeting Veronica for a business lunch and I have to run home and
get cleaned up first.”

My lips tightened and my mood plummeted toward my
feet. He didn’t understand at all, damn it.

“Jack, wait.” I had so much to say. Such as, maybe I
was a little slow or maybe it was because I was the late bloomer
Mama always said I was, but I’d figured out since he came back to
town that I was crazy about him. And I hoped he felt the same way
now that he’d broken up with Kelly. Or I could tell him that I
wanted him to take me back to his new house and this time I
promised to turn off my cell phone and give him my undivided
attention. Or that I wanted to be friends the way we used to be in
high school—buddies, pals, anything I could get. Except I couldn’t
say any of those things because this time I didn’t feel I was
entirely to blame. A surge of something close to anger rose in my
chest. People have families and sometimes the families need them.
Friends who don’t understand that aren’t really friends.

Jack raised an eyebrow and after a minute or so of us
staring at each other like a couple of dogs facing off over a bowl
of scraps, I ended the awkward silence by saying crisply, “You have
insulation in your hair.”

“Thanks.” He didn’t move to brush it away. “Catch you
later.”

A quick wave and he was gone. I sat for a long time,
staring at the wall where Veronica had hung a calendar with our
opening date circled in red. I was proud of myself for not crawling
to Jack and begging forgiveness. I hadn’t done anything wrong and
if he didn’t understand that, too bad.

I eventually decided to go out for a sandwich. The
weather was perfect, one of those crisp, extra sunny fall days, so
I walked to a deli a couple of blocks away and ordered chicken
salad on whole wheat.

The food looked good, but I shouldn’t have wasted the
money. Even with two glasses of iced tea, my sandwich went down
like shredded cardboard. Not surprising. Who wouldn’t be stressed
out starting a new job?

With plenty of time left and no desire to rush back
to Blackthorn House, I wandered over to Marion Square and sat on a
bench. A pleasant breeze blew off the harbor. Squirrels chased each
other across the grass and a flock of wrens hopped around pecking
at the ground.

I closed my eyes and let the sun warm my face while I
listened to the birds chirp. Eventually my cell phone played its
little tune, and I slowly came back to earth. I dragged the phone
out of my pocket, determined to find the will to not answer if it
was DeLorean or Mama. I checked the caller ID. Patty.

Patty was okay. Patty hadn’t done anything to ruin my
life lately, though the blind date with Herman was
questionable.

I cautiously said, “Hello.”

“Susan! You’ll never guess.” She hadn’t sounded this
excited since the cards told her Kyle was going to propose before
the end of the year.

“Probably not, so go ahead and tell me and that will
eliminate a lot of wasted time.”

“The man is going down in flames, I guarantee
it.”

I frowned. “Odell?” We’d often talked about what
would happen if one of Odell’s loan customers came to the pawnshop
to try to get his stuff back after Odell sold it. But I never
thought Patty was serious when she said she’d love to witness some
oversized redneck kicking Odell’s ass from Mount Pleasant clear
over to Ashley.

“Not Odell, you poor confused woman. You aren’t the
least bit psychic are you?”

“Well, no, but I have many other good qualities. At
least, that’s what I keep telling myself.”

“It’s Philip Beauchamp. The ex-lover. I knew the
businesswoman friend would work you like a galley slave and you
wouldn’t have the time. I made the calls for you while Odell was at
lunch with his beloved niece. They went to a special at one of
those eat till you drop places, so I knew I was safe. You should
have seen them when they waddled back to work. I swear, Susan, they
literally looked like they were going to burst out of their
clothes. You know, the way sausages crack out of their skins when
they’re fried.”

“Thanks for
that
image. Now what were you
going to tell me?” If I didn’t redirect her, she’d spend the
afternoon talking about the Hoganboom family and their feeding
habits.

“Meet me at the pawnshop after work. I have exactly
what you need.”

“What I need? My very own deck of tarot cards?
Another blind date? Don’t do me any more favors this week--my
nervous system can’t take it.”

“Philip’s location, silly. Isn’t that what you
wanted? I’ll go with you to confront him. You’ll be glad you have
me along for moral support and I can threaten to put a spell on
him. Not that I would, of course. It’s wrong to control someone’s
will with magic.”

Right, but it was perfectly okay to threaten people
with magic to cow them into submission. Maybe if I donned a witch
costume and carried a broom, I could scare Philip myself and cut
out the middlewoman.

“Hold up a minute, Patty. I’m positive Philip
Beauchamp wouldn’t be frightened off by magic, even if I decided to
sic you on him.”

“You never know. People are generally afraid of the
unknown. He might get worried enough to back off and then we’d be
heroes.”

Yeah, no doubt she figured he’d be so scared he’d run
all the way back to Arkansas whimpering like a whipped dog. I shook
my head. She’d gotten way too involved in her tarot if she thought
she could influence Philip so easily.

“Forget about going after him. I’ll call a lawyer and
have him deal with Philip. Besides I won’t have time to go anywhere
after work since I promised to let my sister use the van. And
DeLorean barely knows how to boil water and with her ankle, Mama is
in no shape to cook. She’ll lecture me for days if she has to
hunker up to the stove on a stool from the breakfast bar to fix her
own supper.”

“Stop arguing and listen to what I’m saying. Your
mother will be so grateful, she’ll forget all about the
inconvenience. Damn. Wait a minute.”

I heard Patty ring up a customer, murmuring something
about “nice stereo except for that big crack in the side.” Then she
was back on the line. “I figured Philip might be up to his old
tricks. About fake marrying, I mean. So I used up my last free
search. If I need another one before the end of the year, you can
pay for it, okay?”

“Sure, no problem.” I watched a pigeon lift off from
the statue of John C. Calhoun in the front of the square and dive
bomb out of the sky to scatter the wrens.

“Anyway, I was right. About Philip marrying. Only
this time he might be married for real, and I called Lurlene and
checked and he’s still married to her. If the second marriage is
real, it’s bigamy, Susan. Bigamy.”

“You called Lurlene?” I rose half off the bench and
then plopped back down like a puppet whose strings had been
cut.

“Why not? I’m always willing to help other people
solve their problems, you know that.”

“I’m not sure I’d call it help in Lurlene’s case. She
might be better off living in blissful ignorance.” I jumped to my
feet and started pacing in circles around my bench.

There wasn’t a chance that Philip would continue to
threaten Mama now. He’d be too busy trying to stay away from
Lurlene. At least I hoped so. “But that gives me all the more
reason to let a lawyer deal with him.”

“You said he gave your mother until Wednesday to pay
up. That’s tomorrow.”

“I know when it is, Patty. I’ll call someone before I
leave work today.” I could phone Lawrence Lee Little, my divorce
attorney. He should be able to advise me on what to do about
Philip. Mama could have done the same thing, instead of worrying
herself sick that Philip would make good on his promise to tell
all. But she hadn’t, so it had become my chore.

“Are you sure you want to wait? I’ve always found
that the sooner you deal with ex lovers to get them out of your
life, the better.”

“I’m sure. One more thing--do me a favor and stop
calling Philip my mama’s ex lover. She really thought she was
married to him. Mama is the last person in the world who would take
a lover or even think about taking a lover.”

“That’s right, your mother is all church isn’t
she?”

“She’s religious, yes.” I slung my purse over my arm.
I had barely enough time to return to work before my hour was up.
“Patty, thanks. I’ll call my lawyer and let you know what
happens.”

When I got back, Jack was still out. I called and
left a message for Mr. Little and turned to my computer, burying
myself in fact and legend about Charleston and the Blackthorn
House, somehow managing to weave the two together into a tightly
written narrative while I ignored the sounds of hammering and
sawing coming from upstairs.

I finished the brochure before the end of the workday
and it was a real feat as far as I was concerned. It’s hard to
write with personal thoughts trying to intrude on your work. And
it’s even more hard to forget your problems and focus when you have
an ex best friend who’s trying to control how you feel about your
family. People aren’t saints, me especially.

At least I’d taken action on Mama’s problem—if you
could call leaving a message with my attorney action. I figured if
Lawrence Little didn’t get back to me by four o’clock, I’d call him
again.

Jack’s lunch lasted more than two hours. Not that I
was keeping track on purpose, but I did have that big front window
and who could blame me for using it? Finally I saw him drive back
into the parking lot and a minute later I heard him come in the
front door. He didn’t stop by to say hello. In fact, I didn’t see
him again until it was almost time for me to leave work for the
day.

Veronica wandered in about ten minutes before
quitting time. She’d changed her clothes and now she was wearing a
sapphire colored silk dress that matched her contact lenses of the
day. I’d admired the same dress in the window of a little boutique
on King Street. The boutique didn’t have my size, but that was
okay, I didn’t have the price they were asking unless I wanted to
eat nothing but crackers and water for a month. Too bad. It would
have looked pretty on me, would have minimized the slight bulges on
my hips. On Veronica it looked stunning.

“Hi, Susan. Did you finish placing the ads?”

“I’m working on that tomorrow. I have a rough draft
of the brochure ready and as soon as I have your approval, it goes
to the printers.”

“Already? Fantastic.” She came around to my side of
the desk, and I moved aside to let her read through my work. When
she finished, she turned to me, nodding and smiling. “I wouldn’t
change a word. Send it like this and use at least four photos.
After you finish the ads, I’ll need you to write up a press release
and set up interviews. I won’t have time for those, so the media
will have to talk to you.”

Right. The media. Veronica was going all out, but
then I could have predicted she’d be a whiz at publicity. I
pictured myself on the local cable channel and the radio. It
certainly beat working for Odell Hoganboom.

But despite having buried myself in work all
afternoon, I couldn’t entirely get Jack out of my mind. Either that
or I had some need to torment myself.

“So,” I said, “now that we’ve got the topic of
publicity out of the way, how was your lunch with Jack?”

“Lovely. He really is nice and a great
conversationalist.” She whipped a little mirror out of her purse
and held it up to her face to inspect her makeup. “We went to that
new seafood place that everyone’s talking about.”

My personal torment session was going nicely. Hearing
the details of Veronica’s lunch date with Jack completely took away
any sense of joy or accomplishment I might have had over my success
with the brochure. My stomach sank a few inches lower and a little
vein in the side of my head started pulsing like a miniature
heart.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” I said, “how’s your
boyfriend? Walter--isn’t that his name?”

She patted her hair. “Walter’s probably fine. At
least he was last time I checked.” Then she returned the mirror to
her purse, drew out a lip gloss, and touched up her already perfect
lips. “I haven’t spoken to him in a week. First I was out of town,
then he left for Munich on business. He tried to play phone tag,
but I’ve been too tied up with this place and with a deal I have
going with office space over in Ashley to get around to catching up
with Walter.”

Really? You would have thought she could have taken
time out of her two-hour lunch with Jack to call her boyfriend.
Even I had taken time out of lunch for a phone call. Only of course
I didn’t have a boyfriend or an imaginary boyfriend or even—now
that Jack had decided I was too attached to my family to be worthy
of his attention—a friend who was a guy.

“Anyway,” she went on before I could decide whether
to say I was sorry about Walter, “I guess I’d better let you out of
here. Eight again tomorrow, okay?”

I assured Veronica I’d be back at eight, gathered my
purse, and found I couldn’t leave because Jack was standing in the
doorway. “Hi,” he said in my direction. Then, turning to Veronica,
he said, “The crew’s done with the second floor front bedroom. You
ever decide whether you want to keep the French doors for access to
the porch or did you want to close that off and just have access
from the upstairs sitting room?”

Veronica simpered and lit up like someone had stuck a
couple of ten thousand watt wires in her ears. Didn’t she know that
showing so much enthusiasm wasn’t a good look for her?