Page 35 of Ain't She Sweet?


  Winnie regarded her loftily. “Only because of his dedication to good causes.”

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of it. Apparently they had a secret handshake, but nobody could remember what it was. They also used to sit in a circle and pass around some kind of necklace, but it had been lost years before.

  “I remember one thing for sure,” Merylinn said. “You have to tell what boy you like.”

  “Gosh, I’ll have to think about it,” Winnie said sarcastically.

  “She’s not displaying proper Seawillow spirit,” Heidi pointed out.

  “She also has to tell a sex secret,” Leeann said.

  “Sex secret?” Winnie rolled her eyes. “You guys were eleven. How many sex secrets could you have had?”

  “Quite a few. Merylinn found her mom’s copy of Joy of Sex.”

  Winnie threw up her hands. “All right. A couple of nights ago I had an erotic dream about Edward Norton.”

  “Like who hasn’t?” Heidi said, unimpressed. “We need a better secret than that.”

  Winnie’s biggest sex secret—the lack of desire she’d once felt for her own husband—was something she didn’t intend to share with anybody. She pretended to think it over. “Okay, how about this? Merylinn, do you remember the time you kept Gigi so Ryan and I could go to that conference in Miami?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “There wasn’t a conference in Miami. We took a hotel room in Memphis and spent the weekend playing sex slaves.”

  It was a lie, but their reactions more than satisfied her.

  “You slut!”

  “Sex slaves?”

  “Did you use handcuffs and everything?”

  “Everything,” Winnie said.

  Sugar Beth wasn’t buying it, but she stayed loyal and kept her mouth shut, which made Winnie think about how nice it was to finally have a sister.

  “She’s getting tears in her eyes,” Merylinn exclaimed. “That must have been one hell of a weekend.”

  Winnie smiled at Sugar Beth. “Unforgettable.”

  Sugar Beth returned the smile. “Even I can’t top an entire weekend playing sex slaves.”

  Winnie shifted her position on the couch before another wave of sentiment caught up with her. “Isn’t it time to light the initiation candle?”

  “Not quite.” Sugar Beth lifted an eyebrow in calculation. “There’s one more thing…”

  Amy shot up from her chair. “No. We are not doing that.”

  “We have to,” Sugar Beth said, “or Winnie’ll never be an official Seawillow.”

  “Oh, God…” Merylinn threw her head back and started to laugh.

  Leeann groaned. “I shouldn’t have eaten so much.”

  “If we do, we can’t tell anybody,” Heidi said. “You know how my mother-in-law hates me. If she finds out, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “Do what?” Winnie asked, not entirely sure she wanted to know.

  A few moments of silence fell over the group. They looked at one another. Finally, Amy spoke in a hushed voice. “We have to strip down naked and run around Frenchman’s Bride three times.”

  Winnie regarded them incredulously. “You’re making this up.”

  Leeann snorted. “I wish.”

  Amy shook her head. “It’s true. Whenever anybody new came into the Seawillows—”

  “Which thankfully wasn’t too often,” Merylinn interjected.

  “—we’d wait for a night when Sugar Beth could talk Diddie into letting us have a sleepover.”

  “Preferably during the summer so we could sleep outside on the veranda,” Heidi added.

  “Once Diddie and Griffin fell asleep,” Amy went on, “we’d strip down, and all of us would run naked around the house.”

  “I never heard a word about this,” Winnie said.

  “It was our best secret.”

  “Our only secret,” Leeann said dryly.

  “Even the guys don’t know.”

  “It’s barely dark,” Winnie said. “And it’s not even sixty degrees outside.”

  Sugar Beth grinned at her. “Then we’d better run fast.”

  A debate over terms and conditions followed, but in the end, they only made one concession to maturity. They agreed they could keep their shoes on.

  “I knew I should have thrown out these ratty panties,” Leeann said a few minutes later as they stood in the sunroom peeling off their clothes.

  “Somebody make sure all the lights are off.”

  “I’m savin’ up for liposuction. I really am.”

  “I liked it better when we hated Sugar Beth. Look at her legs.”

  “Ohmygod, Winnie has a humongous hickey!”

  Naked and giggling, they clustered at the back door. “Y’all ready?” Merylinn asked.

  “Ready!” they declared.

  Sugar Beth grabbed the knob and threw it open. “Seawillows forever!” she cried.

  And then they flew.

  Ryan and Gigi’s impulsive late-night walk took them to the end of Mockingbird Lane. As they reached the drive that led to Frenchman’s Bride, they came to a dead stop at the exact same moment.

  Gigi found her voice first. “Do you think they went crazy or something?”

  “Sure does look like it.”

  They didn’t say anything for a few moments, but Gigi finally grew so horrified she couldn’t stay quiet. “You shouldn’t watch.”

  “Honey, I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

  High-pitched giggles drifted toward them, a curse, a shush. The women disappeared around the side of the house.

  Gigi scowled. “If the kids at school find out about this, I’m not going back. I mean it.”

  “We’ll leave town together.”

  “Nothing like this ever happened before Sugar Beth came back.”

  “If she stays, it’ll only get worse.”

  “Still, I don’t want her to leave.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “Neither do I.”

  Gigi sucked in her breath as the women reappeared from the other side of the house, this time with her own mother in the lead. “This is so embarrassing.”

  “The sad thing is, I doubt they’ve had a drop of liquor.”

  “I used to think Mom was perfect.”

  “She can’t help it, honey. Southern women are born with the insanity gene.”

  “Not me.”

  He sighed. “Sooner or later, you’ll go the way of the rest.”

  With a hissing noise, the automatic lawn sprinklers came on, and all of them began to shriek.

  “I can’t look anymore.”

  Ryan buried his daughter’s face in his chest and smiled. “In the morning, we’ll pretend it was all a bad dream.”

  Sugar Beth shut off her alarm. It was Tuesday, the day she’d planned to leave Parrish. She turned her head into Colin’s pillow, and as she drew in his familiar scent, she prayed he’d come home before she had to change the sheets. Misery washed over her. She fought it off by remembering last night and the Seawillows. She smiled. Winnie had given her a priceless gift.

  She managed to pull herself out of bed—not an easy task these days—and get dressed before she headed for the bookstore.

  “I thought you’d be packing now,” Jewel said as Sugar Beth handed over the blueberry danish she’d intended to eat but couldn’t quite stomach.

  “A temporary change of plans. I’m hanging around a little longer.”

  Jewel’s tiny face brightened. “For real?”

  She nodded and filled her in on what had happened with Colin.

  “He left? Just like that?”

  “Just like that,” Sugar Beth replied, warmed by Jewel’s expression of outrage.

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “Keep trying to get hold of him.”

  Jewel regarded her sympathetically. “From what you’ve said, that could take a while. He doesn’t seem to want to be found.”

  “I’m calling his editor. Somebody has to know where
he is.”

  “You’d better come up with a more believable story than that Oprah thing you told me about.”

  “I will.”

  Colin’s editor answered on the second ring. “Neil Kirkpatrick.”

  “Lady Francis Posh-Wicket here calling from London.”

  “Who?”

  “I’m the director of Her Majesty’s Royal Office of the Garter. Her Majesty has some rather exciting news for one of your authors. Sir Colin Byrne. Ah, but what a stupid cow I am. He’s not Sir Colin yet. Which is why I need to ring him up. But he doesn’t seem to be answering his bloody phone.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know where he is.”

  “Bollocks, sir. Am I to believe you’ve lost one of your most important authors?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Perhaps you would like to be the one to tell Her Majesty that Sir Colin has disappeared because I’m sure I don’t want to.”

  “Who is this?”

  “I must insist you locate Sir Colin im-me-jetly.”

  “I don’t know who you are, but I have work to do here.”

  “Not until you tell me where the hell he is, you wanker!”

  There was a long pause. “Sugar Beth, is that you?”

  This time she was the one who hung up.

  “They’re all mad, every one of ’em,” said Rupert with conviction.

  GEORGETTE HEYER, Devil’s Cub

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Blazes of azalea and dogwood announced the arrival of April. Northern Mississippi had never been more beautiful, but Sugar Beth was miserable. She lived her days in limbo, taking comfort only in the fact that no moving company had appeared to pack up Colin’s things. Sometimes she managed to convince herself that Colin was simply trying to manipulate her and that he’d be back soon. But as one week gave way to another, she began to believe he’d meant exactly what he’d said.

  Two weeks after Colin had driven away, Ryan appeared at her door with the news that he’d finally called. “He’s rented a house—he didn’t mention where. He says he’s working round-the-clock to finish his book.”

  “What about me? What did he say about me?”

  Ryan made a business of examining his car keys. “I’m sorry, Sugar Beth. He said he didn’t want to talk to you yet—maybe when his book is done. And he said to stop harassing his publisher. Oh…he asked about Gordon.”

  Bloody wanker.

  He was manipulating her! A flood of righteous indignation drove away the tears that were so close to the surface these days. She pushed past Ryan, headed for the Lakehouse, and spent the evening dancing with Cubby Bowmar.

  Her anger carried her through the next two weeks. And then Reflections hit the stores…

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Jewel crowed. “The book hasn’t been out a full week, and I’ve already sold three hundred copies.”

  “Hoo-ray,” Sugar Beth said glumly.

  Sue Covner regarded Sugar Beth smugly from behind Jewel’s shoulder. “Look on the bright side, Valentine, honey. Not everybody gets to be immortalized in great literature.”

  Marge Dailey poked her head out from the inspirationals. “I think you’re holdin’ up pretty well. If it was me, I swear I’d move to Mexico. Although I suppose that’s not really far enough away, still bein’ in North America and all.”

  The whole town was laughing its collective ass off.

  The book immediately shot to the top of the New York Times best-seller list, and a reporter from USA Today showed up. Although stories about Colin’s mysterious disappearance had begun to appear in the press, the reporter was more interested in searching out the real-life characters from Reflections. The diabolical Valentine was at the top of his Most Wanted list.

  “Why, that’s Sugar Beth Carey you’re looking for,” Amanda Higgins said about five seconds after the reporter arrived in town. “Sugar Beth Carey Tharp Zagurski Hooper.”

  “You might remember reading about her a few years back,” her husband volunteered. “She was that waitress who married the oil tycoon. Emmett Hooper was his name.”

  The story hit the papers twenty-four hours later, and even Tibet wasn’t far enough away to hide.

  Early in May, a month after Colin had left, the painting went up for auction, and the J. Paul Getty Museum bought it for a little over three million dollars. Even though Jewel and the Seawillows did their best to celebrate with Sugar Beth, she wanted Colin. More than any one of them, he’d understood what this meant to her. But the fact that he didn’t bother to call with his congratulations added another log to the smoldering pyre of her resentment.

  She completed the paperwork for the trust that would ensure Delilah’s care, then flew to Houston to spend a few days with her and take care of other business. Reflections stared back at her from the window of every bookstore she passed. She treated herself to an appointment at the city’s best salon, followed by a shopping spree, but not even fresh blond highlights and a pair of Jimmy Choo stilettos could lift her spirits.

  She returned to Parrish late on a Tuesday night, six weeks after Colin’s desertion, tired, lonely, and teary-eyed. Just as she began to turn off her bedside light, the phone rang, and when she answered, she heard a familiar imperious voice. “Where the bloody hell have you been for the last three days?”

  Her legs collapsed. “Colin?”

  “What other man would be calling you at midnight, pray tell?”

  Everything she’d planned to say flew out of her head. “You bastard!”

  “Reached you at a bad time, did I?”

  “You manipulating bastard!” Everything spilled out, all her anger and frustration. She yelled and cursed until she was hoarse, but when she finally wound down, he only said, “Now, now, my love,” which wound her up all over again.

  “I’m not your love! I’m not your anything! You deserted me, you limey prick, and I’ll never forgive you. But I’m glad you left because now I don’t ever have to look at your ugly face again. And guess what? When I told you I loved you, it was a big joke, do you hear me? All this time I’ve been laughing at you behind your back. I don’t love you! The whole thing was a big fat joke!”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied, not missing a beat. “But since I love you enough for both of us, I’m not too concerned. It’s embarrassing, really, how much I miss you.”

  That calmed her down a little.

  She abandoned the side of the bed to sit cross-legged on the rug so Gordon, who’d slithered under the bed during her tirade, could emerge and put his head in her lap. Her eyes had started to leak, but she took deep breaths so Colin didn’t know his desertion had turned her into a regular little watering pot. “How could you have left?”

  “An animal in pain. That sort of rubbish.” He sounded haughty, vaguely bored, but she knew him too well, and she wasn’t fooled. She’d hurt him, all right, maybe more than he’d hurt her. She leaned down and blotted her eyes on one of Gordon’s ears. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know I didn’t.”

  He replied with the same jaded tones. “That fact that you couldn’t help yourself only made it more painful.”

  “You were right,” she said in a miserably small voice. “I never gave us a chance. I realized it as soon as you drove off.”

  “Of course I was right.”

  “Could you come back now?”

  “Under what terms?”

  “This isn’t a business negotiation.”

  “Just so we’re clear.”

  “I love you,” she said. “I can’t be much clearer than that. But we need to have this discussion in person. Where are you?”

  “As to that…I’m not quite ready to say.”

  She sat a little straighter. “Then why are you calling? What do you want?”

  “I want your heart, my darling.”

  “You have it. Don’t you know that?”

  “And I want your courage.”

  She bit her lip. “The courage thing is starting to come togeth
er for me. It’s not happening overnight, but I’m getting there. And I don’t want to lose you. I haven’t really thought this through all the way, but it seems to me that Parrish can survive the scandal of two people who love each other living together for a while, don’t you?”

  There was a short pause. “That’s what you want, then? For me to come back so we can live together?”

  “I know it’s a big step, but I’m tired of being scared—you have no idea—and I’m ready to take that step if you are.”

  “I see.”

  “You mentioned an engagement. I’m…I’m honored, Colin. I know this is just as hard for you as it is for me. This could be our first step.” He didn’t say anything, and she wondered if she’d shot too far ahead. “But if you’re not ready to live together, I understand, and forget about the engagement—it’s way too soon. I’ll move back to the carriage house so you have some room. I won’t push, and I won’t crowd you. I know how that feels. Take all the time you need. Just come back.”

  She waited.

  “Colin?”

  “You still don’t understand, my darling.”

  She was perspiring from nerves. “Understand what?”

  “I’m returning on our wedding day. Not a moment before.”

  “Our wedding day!” She jumped to her feet. Gordon slithered back under the bed.

  “I’m sure Winnie and the Seawillows will be more than happy to help with the arrangements, and Ryan can expedite the paperwork.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, but I am.”

  “An engagement, yes.” She shot across the room. “After we’ve lived together for a while. But we’re not jumping into marriage. We aren’t prepared.”

  “I’m afraid I have to go, Sugar Beth. I need to get back to work. Congratulations on the sale of your painting. I only wish I could have been there to celebrate with you.”

  “Don’t you dare hang up! Are you telling me that you’re not coming back unless I agree to marry you?”

  “Of course not. That would give you far too much wiggle room. What I’m telling you is that I won’t come back until you’re standing inside the church, at the altar, with all our friends there as witnesses.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” She kicked a magazine out of her way. “This isn’t one of your books, Colin. This is real life. People don’t do things like this.”