Sweet Tea and Sympathy

  “The big decisions are never easy,” he told her. “And I think you know it’s about more than a job or money or big-city livin’.”

  “What would you think of me moving to Texas?”

  “Well, I can’t say I like the idea. I’d miss ya. But we could call and write, and I could get Tootie to show me how to use that webcam thing. It wouldn’t be like having you live here, but it’s more than we had before.”

  “That’s what I told Kyle. And he got so angry with me.”

  “And you can’t figure out why?”

  Margot crossed her arms. “No, I know why. He wants more from me than I think I can give him. And he’s mad at me for being too scared to try.”

  “Why would you be scared? Kyle seems like a nice boy. Good job, smart, likes kids.”

  “I thought you were supposed to be discouraging me from being interested in boys.”

  “I’m still figurin’ out this whole dad thing,” he said, elbowing her lightly in the ribs. “Come on. Why are you scared?”

  “I’m scared because I like him too much to hurt him. Because I don’t even know how to begin to give someone the kind of love he would require of me, and rightly so, because he deserves it. I’m afraid of confusing his girls, or hurting them. I am fundamentally unable to have a committed relationship involving grown-up feelings.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “The last guy I dated, I dumped him before dessert on the third date because I was afraid he was going to take up too much of my weekend time during the holiday party season.”

  “Okay then.” He pursed his lips, trying to contain his laughter. “Look, I’m clearly not the expert on romance.”

  “Clearly.”

  “But it strikes me that you’re not a coward. You didn’t back down from coming here to a strange place full of people you didn’t know. You didn’t back down from your aunt Donna, and she scares everybody. You didn’t back down from Sara Lee Bolton and her harpies when they tried to assassinate your character over a stupid party.”

  “Watch it.”

  “My point is that you don’t back down when you’re faced with something scary. So why would you back down when you’re faced with something that could make you happy?”

  Margot’s nose scrunched up and she buried her face in her hands. “I wish that didn’t sound so profound.”

  “Stay or don’t stay. I want you to do what’s gonna make you happy. But I don’t want you to make a decision based on what you think should make you happy. There’s nothin’ wrong with being happy living in a small town. There’s nothin’ wrong with being happy workin’ for your family. Your mama thought livin’ in a big city would make her happy because she thought it would be embarrassin’ to be content with a small town. But from what you tell me, she wasn’t all that happy no matter where she was.”

  “Again, please stop making excellent points that force me to reconsider my world view,” she said, sagging back against the couch.

  “Sweet Tea, what do you want to do with your life?”

  “I want to stay!” she exclaimed. Her eyes went wide. “I want to stay. I really do. I didn’t expect that, but I do. Not because of Kyle, though that would be nice. But I don’t want to leave because I have friends here and family. And a job that doesn’t send me into a panic if I get something wrong. And people I actually look forward to seeing every day, as opposed to people who would love to see me fall on my face so they could post it on Facebook. I like living here. I don’t want to leave. Oh my God, I don’t want to leave. Dad, I don’t.”

  “So you’re going to stay?”

  “Yes.”

  Stan grinned. “Well, don’t tell your aunt Leslie.”

  “Why?”

  “She’ll activate the gossip phone tree. Your fella will know your decision quicker than a jackrabbit on a date.”

  “Ew.”

  “So you want to order a pizza? Mama Ruby’s is doin’ a triple bacon special this week.”

  “How about that veggie lasagna Aunt Leslie sent over?” Margot asked, pointing to the kitchen, where the lasagna was warming in the oven. “I would really like to know that you had some vegetables with your dinner. Or at all today.”

  “Is this how it’s gonna be from now on? You bossing me around and fussing over me?”

  “Probably,” she said, nodding.

  “I guess that will be all right.”

  She gave him a lazy smile. “Thank you.”

  “You called me Dad, back there. Did you notice?”

  “I did. I can’t say it’s a habit I’ll get into, but I’ll try.”

  “Well, that would be all right, too,” he said, carefully keeping his face still, though the corners of his mouth were quivering into a smile.

  “Your enthusiasm is overwhelming. Stop, I’m blushing.”

  “Come here,” he said. He put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him and found that she was comfortable. And for the first time in her memory, she propped her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

  IT TOOK MARGOT more than a week to work up the nerve to call Rae and admit she wasn’t taking the job. It wasn’t a terribly professional or emotionally mature response, but Margot figured her recent personal growth granted her a little wiggle room.

  “I’m really very sorry to turn down the position, Rae,” Margot said, sitting on her front porch, watching the last boaters of the season brave the cooling winds of October. “I think I would have enjoyed working for you.”

  “Well, we’re sorry, too, shug. Are you sure there’s nothing I could do to tempt you to Texas?”

  “No, thank you. Your salary package was more than generous. But I just got an offer I couldn’t refuse.” Margot grinned down at Arlo, who had his head on Margot’s knee, graciously accepting her scratching behind his ears.

  E.J.J. telling Margot that she was off her probationary period and was now entitled to a dollar more an hour and two weeks’ paid vacation counted as an offer, right?

  “Keep us in mind if you decide to send applications around again,” Rae said.

  “I will, I promise.”

  Margot bid Rae good-bye and hit END. She sat back in her rocker and propped her feet on the porch railing. In her heart, she knew she’d made the right call. She wouldn’t regret passing up Dallas. But she would have regretted leaving her family. She would have regretted losing the life she had here on the lake. And Kyle . . .

  Well, she would figure that part out. She hadn’t had the nerve to call him about her decision. She didn’t want him to come back to her just because she’d made what he considered the right choice. She was sure that made her fickle.

  But still, she was happy with her choice, no matter what.

  She glanced down the row at what used to be the shabby yellow house. Stan was officially moving back into the formerly unhappy home, which Duffy and Bob were painting a soothing blue-gray. A crew from town had scraped the shingles off the aging roof and replaced them with a dark slate. Between that and the complete change of furnishings every McCready with an available truck was moving inside the house, it was barely recognizable as the same place.

  Frankie’s head poked around the corner of the porch, her pigtails swinging merrily. “So, did I just hear you turn down the fancy city job so you could stay here with us?”

  “Not you, specifically,” Margot insisted. “I would miss Sara Lee’s hearings. And I couldn’t have that.”

  Marianne’s head appeared just above Frankie’s. “Admit it. You love us.”

  “I don’t recall ever saying that.”

  Duffy’s head appeared above Marianne’s. “Come on, if you admit that you love us, we can have cake.”

  “How many more of you are back there?” Margot asked.

  “Just me,” Carl said, walking around to the porch. “I wasn’t comfortable standin’ that close to Duffy.”

  “Good call, man.” Duffy nodded.

  Carl shot finger guns at his brother-in-l
aw and then turned to Margot. “So are ya stayin’ or what?”

  “Yes, I am staying,” Margot said, grinning.

  Her cousins exploded into cheers, and yes, they did have a cake with them on the other side of her cabin. They carried it to her while Carl lit gold sparkler candles. Frankie, wearing capri fatigue pants and a shirt layered from many synthetic fabrics, was careful to keep her highly combustible casual wear away from the open flames.

  The cake read TEXAS SUCKS ANYWAY.

  “Very nice,” Margot cackled before blowing out the candles.

  Marianne slid her arm around Margot’s waist. “If you decided to go, you weren’t going to get any candles. And we would have scraped off the icing so the cake said, ‘Texas Sucks.’ ”

  “Classy.”

  “Mom and Tootie are cooking up a storm. We’re havin’ an official, old-fashioned ‘welcome home, Margot’ pig smoke for you this afternoon.”

  “This afternoon? Not months ago, when I got here?”

  “Well, we figured all of the McCreadys and a whole roast pig would have been a bit much for you to handle,” Duffy said.

  “You’re probably right,” she admitted.

  “Just prepare yourself for the inevitable ‘sugar in the cornbread’ fight between Mama and Tootie,” Frankie told her.

  “I’ve already seen it,” Margot said. “It doesn’t scare me. But before we start partying in earnest, I need your help with something. Actually, I need Carl’s help with something.”

  THOSE WHO WITNESSED what became known as the City Girl Apology would claim that Margot came speeding across the water right up to the dock behind Kyle’s house in a seaplane trailing a banner that said I’M SORRY I’M A BIG-CITY IDIOT. Others would claim it was a jet boat with a banner that said YOU’RE AN IDIOT, BUT I’M SORRY ANYWAY.

  The truth was that Kyle was standing on his dock, prepping Maggie’s Little Trees for winter storage, when he saw a large shape moving slowly across the water. It was backlit by the afternoon sun, and at first Kyle couldn’t tell that it was a McCready’s pontoon boat, much less a pontoon boat driven by Margot.

  Margot cut the engine long before she got near the dock, allowing her to float safely close enough for Kyle to read I’M SORRY written on the sheet she’d stretched over the left side of the boat. The words seemed to be written in dark, metallic . . .

  “Is that duct tape?” Kyle called.

  “Yes, it is,” Margot said. “Carl helped. He says duct tape is the solution to all problems.”

  Kyle walked slowly to the end of the dock, giving Margot a chance to tie up safely before jumping down to the platform. He looked apprehensive as she moved closer to him.

  “You defaced your family’s boat,” he said.

  “Only temporarily,” she told him. “But they helped me do it. Hell, Duffy taught me how to drive it, which was the most terrifying experience of my life. Look, I did a terrible job of talking to you about the Texas offer. I’m staying, not because of you, but because it makes me happy to be here. When I said I don’t know how to love you, well, I wasn’t wrong. I’m going to screw this up somehow, I’m certain of it. But I’ll do my best not to hurt you on purpose. And I would never hurt the girls. If that’s not enough of a promise and you’re done with me, I understand.”

  Kyle’s lips pressed together into an apprehensive line. Margot’s stomach rolled, anxiety turning her insides to water. What if he said no? What if after putting herself out there in rather dramatic fashion, he said no? She’d thought she’d considered this, but realized now that she’d been dangerously optimistic. Romantic comedies had led her terribly astray and she’d made an enormous fool of herself in a small town where she planned to live for quite some time. She was going to be a cautionary tale at the Rise and Shine.

  She was right, tragically so: She didn’t know how to be in a relationship. She couldn’t even make a romantic gesture without looking like a lunatic. She should just slink back to the boat and end what seemed like an eternal awkward pause while she had some tiny bit of dignity left, go home and wait for Tootie’s phone to start ringing with gossip about “poor Margot pining after a man who don’t want her.”

  “Okay.”

  Margot shook her head, chasing away the image of Ike Grandy serving her a side of pity with her Rabbit Food Special. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Okay. I want you to stay,” he said, pulling her close. “I shouldn’t have said all of those things about you being scared. I’m scared, too. And I’m not sorry that I introduced you to the girls. I’m not sorry I let you into my space. I lashed out because I was losing someone all over again and it turns out that I am sort of an asshole when I’m going through that.”

  “Well, I wasn’t exactly the picture of emotional maturity and open communication, either. I’m still scared, Kyle. I’m still so afraid, but I think I’m more scared of what will happen if I don’t try.”

  He chuckled into her neck and squeezed her.

  “I mean, I could end up with some local who doesn’t appreciate my sarcasm nearly as much as you do.”

  “I wouldn’t say I appreciate it,” he said, wincing when she dug a knuckle into his ribs. “Please stay with me. Don’t leave. I’m not saying we have to get married right this second or even this decade. Just stay and help me figure it out.”

  “But someday, if you ever propose, leave duct tape out of it.”

  “I make no promises.” He kissed her soundly. “Duct tape seems to be very effective.”

  THOUGH SHE HAD been warned about the whole hog—smoked slow over hickory all day—it was still overwhelming to see poor Porky laid out in all his full, delicious glory, surrounded by every conceivable starchy side dish. With the sun setting over the water, the family—including Kyle and the girls—dug into this pork-based treasure trove and lounged on a hodgepodge of lawn furniture gathered on Tootie’s porch.

  Kyle was stretched out over Margot’s lap, rubbing at a belly distended from eating three pieces of pie. He didn’t want to upset either Leslie or Tootie by showing favoritism.

  “You’re going to have to either learn to accept pie-based glares from little old ladies or say good-bye to those washboard abs,” Margot told him.

  “Duffy took just as much as I did. How does he not weigh four hundred pounds?” Kyle moaned.

  From his cane rocker, Duffy pointed to the dogs, lolling in the nearby grass with coconut pie filling smeared across their contented muzzles.

  Kyle gasped. “You cheated.”

  “Learn the system, newbie,” Carl drawled. “Wait until Thanksgiving, when there’s three different kinds of gravy.”

  “I don’t know whether to be alarmed or a little aroused,” Kyle said, making Margot shudder.

  In the distance, Margot saw the white Animal Control truck bouncing along the gravel driveway. The dogs sent up a howl, running alongside the truck and barking all the way. “Um, Tootie,” Margot called across the porch. “You didn’t acquire a new dog, did you?”

  “No.” Tootie scoffed. “But I did ignore the summons that pinhead Dougie posted on my door. I’m not about to be forced into court by a boy who used to eat crayons in my Sunday school class.”

  Marianne tried and failed to contain the frustration twisting her facial muscles. “What did the summons say, Aunt Tootie?”

  “Something about me coming to the county commission meetin’ to discuss my noncompliance with the spirit of the animal codes.”

  “Was this last week, before . . .” Margot shook her head. “Never mind, Tootie, we’ll take care of it.”

  As he got out of his truck, Dougie spotted the crowd of McCreadys crossing the lawn and drew himself up to his full height. “Now, y’all, I don’t want any trouble. I’m just here because Miss Tootie hasn’t been compliant with the county codes. I told her I was gonna have to step in and fix it one of these days, and today is that day.”

  “So, what, you’re gonna haul her off to puppy jail?” Carl asked, fixing his most intimidating glare on
Dougie. The poor man’s enormous Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily.

  “No, but I am gonna have to take two of the dogs into custody,” he said.

  “I thought we resolved that when I took custody of Arlo,” Margot protested.

  “Ma’am, I’ve checked the county records. You haven’t filed for dog tags or taken Arlo over to Dr. Warner’s office for shots or a checkup. How about we cut the crap and just admit that you lied about him being your dog?”

  “Watch your tone when you talk to my daughter, Dougie,” Stan snapped.

  “No, Dad, he’s right. I did lie. Arlo’s not really my dog,” Margot admitted, making his jaw drop. “I love him and I’m willing to take him in, but I got so busy with the festival and other stuff that I forgot to file the papers.”

  “Oh,” Stan grumbled. “Well, still. You’re talking to a lady, Dougie. Act like it.”

  “It’s fine, Dad. Dougie, what if I signed papers that made me Arlo’s owner officially?” Margot asked. “Under a legal animal rescue?”

  “That would do it,” Dougie conceded.

  Marianne came dashing out of Margot’s cabin with a manila file folder in hand. “I have articles of incorporation for a nonprofit animal rescue called the Lake Sackett Animal Haven. It’s been filed with the county commission and was approved in a special session on Tuesday. Eloise ‘Tootie’ McCready is named director and given full powers to approve animal adoptions as she sees fit.”

  Margot smiled, all peaches and cream and innocence. Dougie didn’t need to know how good Marianne was at impersonating Aunt Tootie’s signature.

  Dougie scanned the folder, chewing on his lip.

  Tootie snatched the papers out of Dougie’s hands. “What in the Sam Hill?”

  “Surprise . . . ?” Margot said weakly.

  “Explain yourself, girlie,” Tootie told her.

  “We were thinking you could open a real animal rescue,” Margot said. “I know you like having your pack running around the compound, but this would get Dougie off your back. And you could help place your dogs with loving families.”