Down Home Dixie (18 page)

“I'll see if I can find something,” Dixie said, backing out of the room. The last thing she needed to catch was some awful respiratory bug that could lay her up for a week or more.

Kyle was viciously hammering together a birdhouse in the garage when she arrived there.

“Kyle,” she said. “We've got a problem.”

He stopped hammering. “No, we don't. I tied him to that sawhorse over there.” He gestured toward Twinkle, who woofed.

“I don't mean the dog. I'm referring to Andrea. She's sick with a cold. Or at least she says she is. She doesn't want to fly home because germs might rise up her eustachian tubes and make her deaf.”

Kyle laid his hammer aside.
“What?”

“
Deaf.
Andrea's not flying anywhere for a while, and I don't have it in my heart to make a sick woman leave my house.”

“You're too nice, Dixie. I'll talk to her.” He started toward the house.

“I suspect she's naked under the blankets,” Dixie warned him.

“Trust me, her completely naked body won't do much for me.” Kyle kept walking.

“Kyle!”

“Neither would her fully clothed body in case you're worried about it.” He turned around, hands on hips.

“Gee, you're cute when you're mad,” she said.

“I've heard that before.”

“Kyle, if you could—please tell Andrea to call Milo.”

“With pleasure,” Kyle muttered.

Dixie puttered around in the garage, sweeping up wood chips, pushing aside a bag of fertilizer so she could reach the dustpan. Maybe she should have accompanied Kyle to Andrea's room for this discussion. On the other hand, she trusted him completely. It was just that she would have liked to hear how it was going.

She went back in the house when she ran out of things to do in the garage. She found Kyle sitting at the kitchen table staring moodily into a glass of iced tea. He'd cleaned up the syrup from the floor.

“Well?” Dixie asked.

“She's pretty sick,” he said. “I reminded her that it's tax season, and she says she's handling the workload from here, thanks to her laptop and a phone. I suggested that she might be in the way, and she reminded me that you and I are out of the house most of the time due to our jobs. I told her to get out, and she sneezed at me.”

“I get the picture,” Dixie said as she sank into a chair beside him.

“I'm sorry, Dixie,” Kyle said bleakly. “I didn't expect this.”

“I'll take her some throat lozenges, the zinc-and-vitamin kind that are supposed to get rid of a cold before it starts.”

“Is it possible she's malingering because she's spying on us?”

“She and Milo hit it off big,” Dixie informed him. “Maybe she plans to make him fall in love with her.”

“By pretending she has a cold? Now, that's a new one.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other glumly across the kitchen table.

“Kyle? Dixie?” Andrea's voice sounded strained as it wafted weakly down the stairwell.

“What now?” Kyle muttered.

“I'll go,” Dixie said, getting up again. “I was going to get her the lozenges anyway.”

“No, I will,” Kyle said.

“Together,” Dixie said, offering her hand, so they climbed the stairs and pushed open Andrea's door.

Their houseguest was pathetic. Her nose was now red, and she was wiping her runny nose. “Do you have any tissues?” she asked Dixie.

“I'll get them.” Dixie went to her own bathroom and grabbed a new box of tissues, as well as the lozenges and an unopened squeeze bottle of nasal decongestant.

“Thanks,” Andrea said when she reappeared. “I'm sorry about this. I do hope to stay and explore this thing with Milo, but I didn't expect to get sick.”

“Huh,” said Dixie.

“As soon as you get well, you'll have to leave,” Kyle said.

“Where's Twinkle?”

“In the garage, chewing on something,” Kyle told her.

Dixie hadn't seen the Yorkie chewing anything, and it occurred to her that Kyle was making this up. She shot him a skeptical glance out of the corner of her eye.

“Could you bring him to me?” Andrea asked plaintively, reaching for the lozenges.

“I'll send him right up,” Kyle said. His voice was gruff. He wheeled and stalked out.

“Milo wants you to call him,” Dixie blurted before following.

As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she was met by a galloping Twinkle. She jumped out of the way in time to avoid a collision and met Kyle in front of the sink.

“I'm going shopping for a living-room rug,” she said, though she had originally intended to unpack boxes.

“I'm supposed to help a guy build a shoeing stock,” Kyle told her. “He lives between here and Florence.” At her blank look, he said, “A shoeing stock immobilizes a nervous horse while we put on his shoes.”

“Well, that gets us both out of here for the day. See you around.” She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Tonight. Same place. Be there,” he said.

“You got it.” She smiled as she headed out the door.

She didn't find a rug, though she did scope out a department-store sale on bridal gowns. While she didn't have the nerve to try one on, some of them sure were elegant.

 

K
YLE MET HER
in the garage when she arrived home that evening.

“We should move into the playhouse so neither one of us gets sick,” he said.

“There's no TV out there,” Dixie objected, closing the car door after her. “There's no phone, no fax machine, no anything remotely resembling creature comforts.”

“Hey,” he said, pulling her close. “I got you, babe.”

She let herself be hugged for a while. What Kyle said about avoiding infection made sense, especially since, for her, staying home from work meant losing a possible sale.

“Have you eaten?” she asked him.

“The guy I was working with offered me some ribs and I took him up on it.”

“I grabbed a hamburger at the drive-thru in that new place off I-95. I'm not hungry now.”

“So do we move to the playhouse or not?”

“Might as well,” she said. She went inside the house, climbed the stairs and listened for Andrea. No sound came from behind the closed guest-room door, so she gathered up clothes and toiletries and left. She and Kyle started down the path to the playhouse with him carrying Muffin and her litter box.

When Kyle set the cat on the floor, Muffin uttered a small inquisitive mew and proceeded to walk around sniffing everything. Dixie and Kyle perched uneasily on the teeny-tiny chairs and contemplated their perplexing situation.

“Maybe Andrea and Twinkle could go to a motel,” Dixie suggested. “We could check on vacancies at the Magnolia.”

“Any chance she could stay with Milo?” This uttered wishfully.

“He's living with Priss, his sister.”

Kyle let out a long exasperated sigh.

“Well. Here we are.” She glanced around the playhouse. “The night is still young. It's only six-thirty. What is there to do?”

“I could field a few ideas. Why don't you guess what they are? Hint—there's a reason they call this a playhouse.” His grin was happily insinuating.

Dixie ignored it. She was still irked that they hadn't had a chance for that romantic walk under the stars on the night that Andrea had surprised them with her presence. “Maybe this is a good chance to talk about our relationship,” she said.

“Hey, do we have to? I'm not Dr. Phil.”

“Too bad,” she said, disappointed. She had learned how to close on real estate deals. Why couldn't she close on this thing with Kyle?

He leaned forward earnestly. “Dixie, just because we insert bits and pieces of relationship assessment into other conversations doesn't mean they're invalid.” His point made sense.

Maybe this wasn't a good time. She could forgive him for waiting until they could both concentrate on all the heartfelt things that they needed to say to each other, so she leaned over and kissed him. “All right, but if we can't talk about our relationship, we could go visit relatives. That's a very Southern thing to do.”

“Some other time.” He was eyeing her in that come-hither way that she had learned to like.

“We could continue this discussion in bed,” she suggested.

“Someone else beat us to it,” he said, angling his head backward. Muffin had curled up in the middle of the cot, the tip of her tail warming her nose.

“Come here,” Kyle said, reaching over to caress Dixie's upper arm.

She did. His lap was quite accommodating, and she leaned her forehead against his. They kissed, and Dixie remembered why she was mad about this man. It wasn't his looks or his sense of humor or the way he encouraged her to be the best she could be. It was the way he kissed, as if he really meant it, as if kissing her was the best possible use of his time and effort. As if, as if…as if he loved her?

If only he did. If only he would tell her so. If only they could lie down on the cot and make love until he couldn't stand
not
telling her.

“I think…” she said.

“Don't,” he told her, his mouth working its way down her neck. “It's counterproductive.”

“I think we should spread blankets on the floor,” she said. “So we can be more comfortable.”

He kept kissing her until she was so weak that it required superhuman effort to drag the blankets down from a nearby shelf and spread them on the wee section of the floor that wasn't taken up by the chairs, table, cot and Muffin's litter box. Things proceeded from there, but they didn't require talking. Maybe that was better.

On the other hand, wouldn't a good talk clear the air? Or would that only drive Kyle away?

One thing she was sure about, and that was that Kyle was over Andrea. She hoped he'd decide that he'd never be over her, Dixie. And soon.

In the morning when Dixie woke up, a heavy ball of fur was sitting on her chest and purring.
Muffin.

“Kyle?” she said, reaching for him.

Kyle wasn't there.

Her frantic thoughts ranged from
He's gone back to Ohio
to
Maybe I dreamed our wonderful lovemaking of last night
to
What if he went outside to smoke?

However, Kyle's truck was parked in its usual spot, last night's lovemaking had been better than any dream and Kyle didn't smoke. After a pet-and-purr session, she nudged Muffin off her chest and reclaimed her clothes, which were strewn atop the teeny-tiny chairs. Muffin stretched and headed for the food dish.

“You slut,” Dixie told Muffin affectionately, treating her to an extra rub between the ears. “You'll hang out with whoever feeds you.”

Which reminded her of Andrea. Which brought her back to Kyle. A glance out the teeny-tiny window revealed Kyle marching toward the playhouse.

“What's going on?” she asked when he came stooping in. If moving about the playhouse gave her cricks in her neck, she could imagine how difficult it was for him.

“I've been over to the house,” he said. “I needed to get clean underwear.”

“Speaking of your underwear, how is Andrea today?” She continued yanking up her jeans and reached for her top. She had to bend at the waist before she could get it over her head.

“I'm happy to say that Andrea has nothing to do with my underwear these days. This morning she can hardly talk. I'm going to the drugstore to get her an antiseptic spray for her throat.”

Dixie tugged the top down over her midriff.

“Is that really such a good idea, Kyle? Andrea won't have any reason to go as long as you're paying attention to her.”

“If she has medicine, she'll get well faster,” he said.

“Kyle, it's a well-known fact that you can't cure a cold. All you can do is soothe the symptoms. I say we let her be so uncomfortable that she can't wait to leave.”

“I don't agree.”

“Then we have an honest difference of opinion.” She glared, but he ignored it. Even though she was annoyed with him, she had to admit that last night he'd pulled out all the stops. He was a wonderful lover, considerate and passionate, appreciative and skilled.

Kyle kept talking, as if filling in space with words would calm her misgivings. “I checked with the Magnolia Motel first thing this morning. They don't allow pets. Andrea won't be parted from Twinkle, I'm afraid. I offered to take care of him until she's feeling better, but she won't have it.”

“Bad idea, considering that Muffin and Twinkle hate each other,” Dixie muttered. She flung the door open and the brisk wind caught it. Gray clouds scudded across the horizon and a mist hung over the lake. The transplanted dogwood trees shimmered in the fog, their leaves pure silver. It had rained again last night, and puddles of water stood in the driveway. Kyle was right behind her as she started toward the house.

“I'm going to get dressed and go to work,” Dixie said, flinging the words back over her shoulder. This was
her
house,
her
property, and she couldn't forget that Kyle was responsible for the usurper in their midst. Maybe not directly, but still. However, she couldn't help taking pity on Kyle when they reached the back steps and she slid a surreptitious glance at him. Kyle was clearly a man under duress.

She softened her voice. “What's your plan for the day?”

“I promised I'd walk Twinkle,” Kyle said miserably. “Then I'll go to the drugstore.”

Dixie nodded and continued into the house. She didn't hear Andrea stirring behind the closed guest-room door, and that was a good thing. She hurried through her shower and makeup, and when she came downstairs, Kyle and Twinkle were in the yard being whipped around by the wind. Twinkle, his hair bow untied, his bangs flopping over his eyes, was wandering in no particular pattern, and it appeared as if the dog were walking Kyle instead of the other way around.

Dixie stuck her head out the back door. “Kyle, I have some toaster pancakes in the freezer. Want a couple?”

“Not right now,” he said gruffly. “I'll get something later.”

This was okay with her. She was in the mood for a big breakfast at the Eat Right, and besides, Kathy Lou had probably heard all about Andrea's surprise appearance and would be eager for juicy details.

Dixie grabbed her briefcase and hurried outside. Twinkle was now running around at the end of his leash, maybe hunting for Muffin's trail. There wouldn't be one, since Muffin had never been outdoors, but Dixie wasn't going to bring that up.

She headed for the playhouse.

“Where are you going?” Kyle asked.

“I need to make sure Muffin has enough food and water. No way am I taking her back in the house until Andrea and Attila are gone.”

“They'll go. I can promise that.”

He didn't say when.

Dixie spent a few minutes petting Muffin, reassuring her that the house would be theirs again soon. Muffin purred and let out a little
Brrup!
as she twined around Dixie's leg. No doubt about it, Dixie was becoming a cat person. Already
was
a cat person.

Kyle and the dog were traversing a grassy strip near the shore as Dixie started for the garage. She paused for a moment, thinking she should walk over to Kyle for their customary goodbye kiss. But he'd turned his back toward her, whether by accident or design she couldn't say, and the grass was wet. She was wearing new suede shoes. Resolutely, she kept walking.

As she backed her car out, Kyle spoke. He was closer now, dragging Twinkle toward the house.

“No treat until you poo-poo,” Kyle said.

Dixie braked sharply and stared at him through her open window. “
What
did you say?”

Kyle looked embarrassed. “I was talking to Twinkle.”

“Whew. That's a relief.” She thought about that missed kiss again, felt a twinge of unhappiness over the whole situation and started to back up.

“Dixie?”

“Yes?”

“I'm really sorry about all this.” His expression was so regretful that she didn't doubt his sincerity, but it wasn't enough.

“We'll talk later.” She wondered if Kyle remembered that she was planning to call Lana Pillsbry today to find out if she was going to buy that house.

Kyle smiled, forced though it was, and waved. In that moment, Dixie forgot all about their present difficulties. Even though they were going through a rough time, she would spend the whole day missing him. These days she couldn't wait to get home in the evenings because it meant that she and Kyle would be together. Did he know how much she cared about him?

She sure hoped so, or none of this was worth the trouble.

 

T
HE
E
AT
R
IGHT
C
AFÉ
wasn't so busy that Kathy Lou didn't have time to talk. “I heard she's real pretty,” Kathy Lou said as she refilled Ketchup bottles. “And wears expensive clothes.”

“Who told you that?” Dixie asked, idly stirring her coffee. Everyone else was sitting at the other end of the counter. This provided a chance for her to chat with Kathy Lou semiprivately.

“Priss. Milo and Andrea stopped by her house on their date.”

It was a date?
That was news to her, yet it had no real impact. She didn't care what Milo and Andrea did. Right now she'd help them elope if that would make Andrea go away.

“Did Priss say how that went?”

Kathy Lou screwed the top on a bottle and moved to the next one. “I'm not sure. Andrea was pleasant to Priss and the kids. Anyone who can be sweet to Priss's little Howie is okay in my book, seeing as how he never acts friendly. One time Howie nearly ran me down with a shopping cart at Bi-Lo. By the way, Dixie, I heard Lana looked at the Meehan place.”

“I hope she buys it,” Dixie said fervently, visions of new living-room chairs dancing in her head.

“Ooooh, and speaking of houses, Milo bought a new mobile home to put on that acreage where he's going to start his plant nursery.”

“How nice for him.” Dixie stood and shelled out a few bills. “I need to get to work.”

“Good luck with Lana,” Kathy Lou called after her before turning to wait on someone else.

At the office, Dixie tried unsuccessfully to reach Lana. Then she checked with Mayzelle, who was tardy because of a poodle-groomer appointment, and she doodled on her calendar while making follow-up calls on possible listings. It wasn't until late afternoon that she realized she'd started a diary of sorts.

SATURDAY

SUNDAY

MONDAY

TUESDAY

WEDNESDAY

The phone rang, and when Dixie answered it, she heard Memaw's voice.

“Listen, Dixie Lee, why didn't you tell me about that Ohio woman camping out at your house? I had to hear it from Dottie.”

“I've been busy,” Dixie said, feeling the start of a headache.

“You can stay with me anytime you like. I'm expecting you tonight without fail, and you won't have to move back home until she's gone.”

Dixie had been concentrating so hard on finding ways to get rid of Andrea that she hadn't even considered other options. “Why, thanks, Memaw. Is Kyle welcome, too?”

A long pause. “All right. I like the fellow, even though—”

“Get over it, Memaw. He's moving down here. At least, it seems pretty certain.”

“Hallelujah! He's seen the light. Why don't you and Kyle come early enough for supper. I'll open a jar of that pickled okra I made last summer.”

Dixie didn't have the heart to remind Memaw that she hadn't actually made the pickled okra, but she assured her that she and Kyle would be there. After they hung up, she headed out to her afternoon appointments with a lighter step because it seemed to her that things were taking a positive turn. Or at least that's what she believed until she returned to the office and found a phone message from Lana Pillsbry saying that she wasn't interested in the Meehan house after all and to have a nice day.

 

W
HEN
D
IXIE RETURNED HOME
, discouraged about all the hard work she'd put into the deal that hadn't gone through, Kyle wasn't there. Andrea was sitting at the kitchen table, spooning up mouthfuls of chicken noodle soup when Dixie entered through the back door. Twinkle was slurping his own little bowl of soup on the floor. He didn't even bark when Dixie walked in. He just kept eating.

“Hi, Dixie,” Andrea said, her voice a mere croak. Her hair was straggly and unwashed, her nose red and chapped. She wasn't wearing makeup and her skin color was washed out. Also, her eyes were pale. Dixie wanted to advise her to have eyeliner tattooed on like hers but decided not to mention it because she wasn't sure how Andrea would react.

“I'm glad you're feeling well enough to be up and around,” Dixie said. On the way home, she'd made up her mind to seize the bull by the horns. “Mind if we chat?”

“Sure, let's,” Andrea replied.

Dixie sat down, germs be hanged. She groped around in her mind for a suitable way to begin the discussion, but Andrea spoke first.

“I'm really sorry about this,” Andrea said. “You've been wonderful.”

“I'd like to have my house back.” A gross understatement, but she'd never believed in overkill.

Andrea shoved her bowl aside. “I told Kyle I can probably leave the day after tomorrow without my eustachian tubes—you know. Didn't he tell you?”