We Interrupt This Date (3 page)

I shook my head. “I can’t. But I have to know--this
business would be?”

“Ghost tours.” She pasted on an “everything’s
settled” expression and folded her hands in front of her like a
tiny tent.

Ghost tours? Thoughts ping ponged in my
brain. Just because I once thought I’d seen an apparition hovering
in the bushes outside our dorm and screamed loud enough to cause
Veronica to trip over a bump in the sidewalk, did that make me an
expert on the supernatural? Was I now qualified to lead goggle-eyed
tourists around the historic streets of Charleston while pretending
said streets were haunted?

“I’m not sure I even believe in ghosts, in
fact, I probably don’t. It doesn’t sound like it would bring in all
that much money and…” I trailed off. I didn’t want to add that Mama
would say the whole idea was tacky beyond belief.

The waiter brought our plates, and we busied
ourselves putting dabs of dressing on our house salads.

Veronica breathed out an exasperated sigh.
“Don’t be a yes-butter, Susan. ‘Yes, I need money, but that idea
won’t work, or yes, I hate my job, but I don’t have the nerve to
leave, or yes, I love ghosts, but Mama will think ghost tours are
the height of poor taste.’ Grow up, woman.”

I winced. She waited a second and then sent
me an apologetic smile. “I’m only trying to jumpstart you out of
your rut so you can start living again. You can’t fail. I’ve
written up the perfect business plan.”

Of course she had. I would expect nothing
less of a woman who’d been brought up in a rusted out trailer home
and worked her way through college selling gift baskets before she
moved into the stock market and finally real estate. She’d become
wealthy while I took the homemaker path.

Veronica reached into a side compartment of
her ample purse and pulled out a purple notebook. She flipped it
open it to the first page and pushed it across the table. “Take a
look. It’s decent money. And aren’t you the one who’s always
telling me you don’t get enough exercise sitting at a desk all
day?”

“I’m taking a yoga class, remember?” I’d won
the class in a drawing. So far I’d only been to two sessions and I
wasn’t exactly a star pupil.

But Veronica couldn’t think I’d be able to
keep a straight face while I regaled tourists with tales of
afterlife-challenged souls. To please her, I glanced at the
notebook. I read through the figures. Twice. Started nodding like a
mechanical toy. I wasn’t required to actually produce a ghost, now
was I? Nor was I required to believe in them. All I had to do was
guide tourists down historic streets and let them draw their own
conclusions. And I’d collect the money, transferring tidy sums into
my bank account as my share of the night’s takings.

“What did I tell you?” Veronica beamed and
forked up a cucumber slice. “You know I’m too busy with my real
estate to have time for another enterprise and I need someone I can
trust, someone with the right qualifications to take this business
to its full potential. And that’s not all. Kim’s leaving the
Seaside View and moving to Savannah to get married. You could have
her room, same arrangement.”

The Seaside View was Veronica’s luxury bed
and breakfast in the heart of old Charleston. Big, old, and very,
very pricey. Her niece and nephew ran the place with the help of
their friend Kim who got a room in exchange for working the desk
and helping with breakfast a few mornings a week.

“But I don’t need a place. I have the house.”
And a very nice house it was, too, the house T. Chandler and I had
bought a couple of years before the end of our marriage. It was in
Mount Pleasant, across the Cooper River from Charleston. There were
five magnolia trees in the yard, a line of azaleas across the front
that bloomed each spring in shades of brightest magenta, and a
white-painted gazebo nestled under a stand of giant oaks in the
back yard. The inside was beautifully decorated thanks to
Veronica--who had no formal training, but was gifted with an innate
sense of style. I had to admit I loved my home and hoped to be able
to keep it, though that was unlikely unless I found a better paying
job. I’d been around and around the problem so many times I’d worn
a rut in the middle of square one.

“If you’re that attached to the house, then
rent it out. But, frankly, Susan, you can’t afford that big place
and now that Christian’s gone off to college, you don’t need
it.”

“But where would Christian stay when he’s
home on holidays?” My son was only eighteen. He shouldn’t have to
hang out under the I-26 overpass at Meeting Street when he had
school vacations.

“He can sleep on your mother’s couch. There’s
no reason for you to keep knocking yourself out keeping that big
place going. Do you expect Christian to come back and live with you
after he graduates? Face it, Susan, you’re an empty nester now and
you always will be.”

I opened my mouth, and Veronica held up a
hand. “Sorry. Goodness knows you’ve had enough of doing other
people’s bidding. But I’m offering you a great job and a place to
stay. Think how nice it will be when you don’t have to worry about
money.”

Despite the fact that I still couldn’t
picture myself toting a lantern and a clipboard while I herded
ghosthunters around Charleston, I did like the idea of living at
the Seaside View. Veronica was right about my home being a lot of
work to keep up, and it took a good part of my monthly income to
make the payment.

An image drifted into my mind, a picture of
myself in thirty years, still sitting at a broken-down desk in
Hoganboom Loans and Pawnshop--No loan too risky, No item too old.
My hair would be sparse, gray, and wiry, my hands bony and
disfigured by liver spots. I’d wear a permanent look of bitterness
over my failure to take a chance all those years back. The person
Veronica had hired instead of me would be tooling around town in a
sporty red convertible and living in the house that used to be
mine.

I sighed. Bitter or not, I couldn’t take
advantage of Veronica’s generosity. She was the person with the
drive to make this happen. I was too low key, too much a follower.
I’d never forgive myself if the venture failed because of me.

“When I said I wanted a new job, I was
thinking another office job, maybe a position working for a lawyer
or a doctor. It’s not the work at the loan company I dislike, it’s
the pay and the boss.” Mostly true.

“You wouldn’t have to walk more than a few
blocks of city streets because the majority of your tours will take
place inside. Remember a few months ago when I said I bought a
historic property? It’s run down and I was going to do some work
and flip it for a nice profit, but I did some research and that’s
when I came up with the ghost tour idea. The property is the old
Blackthorn House and it’s supposed to be haunted. The tourists will
be drawn in like flies to sugar when they hear the history and the
ghost stories.” Her jawline was still as square as the bottom of a
box. “I’ll give you a few weeks to think about the offer. The
project was delayed because of contractor problems, but I’ve hired
a new firm to handle the restoration and they shouldn’t take too
long. In fact I’m meeting with the architectural firm’s manager in
a few days. He says he used to live in Charleston and he
understands the area, so the rest of the work should go fast.”

“I’ve already given you my answer.” I could
be stubborn, too, even if my jawline connected with my cheekbones
in a triangular shape like a slightly rounder version of a cat’s
face. I’d already put the idea of going into business with Veronica
in a hidden compartment of my mind marked, “Tempting, but never
going to happen.”

“You’ll come around when you’re ready to get
out of your rut. And speaking of getting out of your rut, how are
things going with that new man you told me about?”

I rolled my eyes, regretting my decision to
tell Veronica during our last phone conversation that I’d met
someone interesting. “I’d hardly call Steve a new man. I met him at
yoga class and had coffee with him—and the rest of the
students—after class. He’s a couple of years older than I am.”

“But you said he’s nice and he’s available.
Don’t deny it. You’re definitely attracted to this guy.”

“You make it sound like he’s a sale item at
Urban Outfitters. Anyway, I don’t want another man, not right
now.”

Veronica stared. She clearly didn’t believe a
word. And I probably didn’t believe myself. Steve had gone out of
his way to sit next to me during our after class coffee sessions. I
realized I was looking forward to seeing him at the next yoga class
in a few days a lot more than I was looking forward to an upcoming
blind date arranged by a co-worker. I’d missed the last class
because Mama had some sort of crisis with her refrigerator.

“What’s he look like? And don’t just say
gorgeous, that tells me nothing.”

“He isn’t gorgeous, he’s sort of average.
About my height, medium build. Straight, sandy-colored hair,
receding. Hazel eyes with more brown than green.” I shrugged. The
list of Steve’s physical traits added up to someone who wasn’t even
close to the kind of movie star looks Veronica favored, but still
not bad. And he had a charming smile.

“I’m not sure it’s good that he’s exactly
your height. The woman should always be shorter than the man. I
told you that before you married T. Chandler.”

“Yeah, that’s got to be the reason he treated
me like a housekeeper instead of a wife until he found someone
shorter to attract his interest. Too bad I’m not five-feet-two the
way you are and the way the new Mrs. Caraway is. My height really
puts a dent in the available man pool.”

“Other than his height, this Steve person is
probably okay to get you back into the dating scene. Practice
material. But first you’ve got to convince him you belong in his
life.”

“I’m not doing any convincing, at least not
where Steve is concerned. If it happens, it happens. Besides, I
already have a date tonight.”

“In the middle of the week? On a
Tuesday
? That doesn’t sound
promising. You won’t want to stay out late and then go to work in
the morning.”

“This guy—the date--is transferring to
Charleston next month and he’s only here until Wednesday, so
tonight was the only night he had available.”

“It’s a blind date, isn’t it?” Veronica said
this in tones she might use to announce that the earth was in the
path of an asteroid the size of the sun.

My casual shoulder shrug and my sudden
interest in watching a couple of restaurant patrons stroll by were
admission enough. Veronica knew I hadn’t been anywhere lately
except to yoga. It wasn’t like I was going to arrange a date with a
stranger I crashed my cart into at the Publix grocery.

“Wait, don’t tell me. That New Age person you
work with is the one who’s hooking you up. That can’t be good. I
imagine her taste in men runs to long-haired, ascetic types with
dark, soulful eyes. They all read tarot and teach meditation
classes, go to Nepal on vacation, and wear necklaces made of
healing crystals.” Veronica sighed from the bottom of her soul.
“Susan, Susan, Susan.”

“It’s true that Patty got me the date with
her boyfriend’s cousin,” I said reluctantly, “but he’s not a
meditation teacher, he’s an insurance salesman.”

Patty and Veronica had only crossed paths
once, months ago, when Veronica stopped by my office to leave off
an invitation to her niece’s baby shower. Patty was wearing gold
hoop earrings and was dressed in her usual style--floor-length
crepe, rainbow-colored skirt and matching blouse. Her jet-black
hair hung to her waist in ropy coils, so she looked like one of
those carnival fortunetellers. She’d made the mistake of offering
Veronica a half-priced tarot reading because she looked like she
was “having man problems.”

“I suppose she consulted the pagan gods
first. I’ve never had a blind date in my life and I certainly
wouldn’t let someone like Patty arrange one for me.”

She’d told me once that needing to have
someone fix you up was an admission of failure and God knew I
didn’t need something else to make me feel like a loser. I love
Veronica dearly, but even she admits she tends to view the world in
black and white and she can be less than tolerant of viewpoints
that differ from her own. Not for the first time I pondered the
whimsy of fate that had brought me a best friend who had so much in
common with my mother.

No, I’d chosen Veronica and fate had nothing
to do with it. The answer to the question of why I’d made that
choice drifted out of my grasp.

Veronica put her cup down and signaled the waiter.
“You know you’re wasting your time going on a blind date when
you’ve already found someone on your own.”

Mama couldn’t have put it better herself. But if Jack
Maxwell were sitting here, he’d have said, “Go for it. You can’t
win if you don’t enter the race.”

I shook my head. I knew I was thinking about Jack
only because Mama had tried to fix me up with a man this morning.
There’s something about coming out of a year long fog that causes a
lot of random thoughts and buried memories to pop up when you least
expect or want them to.

“You never know how things will work out,
Veronica. Besides, like you said, I need a starter date to get me
off and running.”

We parted at the door. I wished she hadn’t
been so negative about my date, so willing to believe it would be a
waste of time.

I allowed my imagination to wander.
Patty’s boyfriend’s cousin might turn out to be my soul mate, even
though I hadn’t really wanted to go out and only agreed to shut
Patty up. And because
Everybody Loves
Raymond
reruns had lost their appeal. And because—just
because I was tired of being predictable, soft touch Susan, who
wasn’t special to anyone.