Replacing Gentry (12 page)

Chapter Thirteen

J
ust let the valet park your car,” Cooper’s voice shot through my phone with an impatient huff.

The valet? I’d never, in my life, had a car valet parked. But then, how hard could it be? I just drive up and wait for one of the college-aged guys to come over, right? Only, why sit and wait for someone else to park my car when I was perfectly able to do so myself? I wasn’t one of
those
people—the kind of person who thought they were too good, or too important, to do a simple thing like pull into a parking space and walk.

“Cooper, I’m not sure I’m up for this today,” I said, my mind turning once again to Daniel. Was I being irrational and obsessive?

On a good day I despised these lunch get-togethers where Cooper and acquaintances would talk about people I didn’t know while attempting to solve the world’s atrocities, including but not limited to, catering blunders, landscaping gone awry, and botched plastic surgeries. And I hated those wide-eyed
why-would-you-say-a-thing-like-that
looks I got whenever I tried, unsuccessfully, to contribute to the conversation. I hadn’t been offered a membership in the Junior League as of yet, but Cooper kept setting up these lunches so the members could get to know me.

“Not up for what? Eating?” she said with another
hmph
. “Where are you? We’re late as it is. And where were you this morning? I stopped by to borrow that necklace of Nana’s Momma gave you at the wedding.”

“Er . . . I had some errands to run,” I lied, which brought me to my next thought. “Hey, is all of your family buried in the church cemetery?”

I spotted an available meter a block from the restaurant and pulled in, thinking maybe seeing Cooper wouldn’t be that bad after all, not if I could subtly glean some valuable information from her.

“Do you have relatives, a grandparent, maybe, buried north of town?”

“Heaven above, Marlie. No!” Cooper hissed. “Do you have some sick obsession with dead people or something? After lunch I’m callin’ my therapist. You need to talk to someone before this gets out of hand and you disgrace us all.”

I grabbed my purse and opened the car door just as my call waiting beeped in with a call from Anna-Beth.

“Gee, Cooper, it’s so nice to know you’re concerned for my welfare,” I said, my words dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll be there in a minute.” I switched lines, ending the call before she could say anything else. “Hey Anna-Beth, thanks for calling me back.”

“Girl, where have you been? I haven’t heard from you in weeks,” she said.

My eyes went for a quick roll. She always did that, pretended like it was my fault we hadn’t spoken when she was the one who rarely returned
my
calls.

I fed the meter a few quarters. “I’ve called you a half-dozen times since the wedding. Check your voicemail,” I reminded her.

“You know I hate voicemail,” she said. “It’s so tedious.”

I waited for a break in the traffic and then scooted across the street. The humidity had pulled my hair into loose, flowing ringlets that yo-yoed as I double-timed it up the sidewalk. The one saving grace to this heat—with the help of some quite pricey hair products—my hair looked acceptably perky with very little effort.

“Yes, I know,” I said. “Anyway, I have a question . . .”

Was I really going to say this out loud? But then, if I couldn’t trust my best friend, who could I trust? I gulped back my doubt and plunged on. “Did Gentry have a twin?”

“Did she what?” Anna-Beth squeaked. “No, why would you ask such a thing?”

I released a dismissive laugh. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s nothing, I guess,” I said though there was no denying the urgency in my voice. “Sorry. Forget I said anything.”

“Marlie,” she said, her tone attentive. “Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

I sent a weak smile to an older couple brushing past me on the narrow sidewalk and lowered my voice. “A week after the wedding I took the boys to the cemetery to visit their mom’s grave—it was her birthday, and,” the rest trailed off as the possibility seemed less likely the more of it I heard slipping through my lips.

“And?”

I glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “While we were there, a woman appeared out of nowhere and she . . . she looked just like Gentry.”

Anna-Beth got so quiet I thought our call had been dropped. I checked my phone’s display to make sure we were still connected. When I saw that we were, I pressed it back to my ear.

“That was like a month ago. Why are you bringin’ it up now?” she was saying.

“Oh, um . . .” I stalled, suddenly rethinking telling Anna-Beth anything about my little investigation or how Paul had threatened me, or that he was having me followed, much less, how
I’d
followed Daniel this morning. She had a habit of turning every little thing into an epic drama.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you but we’ve both been so busy lately,” I lied again, trying to sound casual. “That’s all. It’s no big deal.”

“Really, and because ‘it’s no big deal,’ you’ve called me like ten times in the last week?”

“Ha!” I said. “So you did get my messages.”

Ignoring my last comment, Anna-Beth said, “I know you, Marlie, and I know somethin’s up, so spill it.”

A few yards up the sidewalk, Cooper was waiting.

“Seriously, Anna-Beth, it’s no big deal,” I minimized. “No need to turn this into the Spanish Inquisition.”

Cooper yanked off her sunglasses and lobbed me a bothered look.

Anna-Beth said, “When have I ever—”

“Look, I have to go,” I said in a rush. “I’ll talk to you later.”

I could hear Anna-Beth’s protests as I ended the call and dropped the phone into my purse. I felt bad for hanging up on her but I couldn’t discuss the matter any further, especially now that Cooper was within earshot.

Dressed in a knee-length linen skirt, cashmere sweater set with the cardigan tied over her shoulders, Cooper was tapping the toe of her bejeweled sandal. “What’s the matter with you other than that outfit you chose?” Cooper asked, glaring at my Gap outlet tank top, True Religion jeans, and Fendi sandals.

Middle class mingled with upper class—a mismatch, just like me. My shoulders were covered with a coordinating three-quarter sleeved sweater, which I thought would have made her happy.

I was in no mood to mince words. “It feels like I’m always offending people,” I said with brutal honesty. “I don’t mean to, but somehow it just happens, and today I’m feeling a little out of sorts.” I rolled my shoulders a few turns trying to work out a knot that had been tightening since my escapade that morning.

Sliding her sunglasses onto the top of her head, Cooper took my arm and started for the door of the restaurant. “You just need to learn how to sugar coat things a little more,” she said, sending everyone we passed a cordial smile. “Don’t be so abrupt.”

Her voice had turned almost tender—concerned—very un-Cooper-talking-to-Marlie-like. I pulled away from her, giving her a careful look. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

She gave me a patronizing smile.
“
’Cause you’re my brother’s wife and how you act reflects on him, and since I’m family, your behavior
extends
to me.”

Her voice stayed light while her eyes remained condescending. “So pull yourself together and play along before I start regrettin’
not
lockin’ you in the attic before the weddin’ like I’d planned.”

She wagged a finger at me. “It’s not too late, you know,” she added with a perky shrill. She stopped just shy of the door and turned to face me. “There, now you try.”

You’ve got to be kidding me,
was my first thought. She didn’t really expect
me
to put on a disingenuous air—not today of all days—like that would be any better than me just being my normal, blunt self.

Her plastered-on smile showed no sign of easing.

I drew my cheeks up into a toothy grin and assumed my best kindergarten teacher/Southern debutant voice. “You people scare me. And now that you mention it, I think I’d rather spend the afternoon in an attic with spiders and the rotting corpses of all the other poor souls bold enough to cross the imperious Cooper Cannon Collins,” I said, extending my smile to its max.

“That’s the spirit.” She gave my shoulder an encouraging pat. “See, it’s not as hard as all that, now is it? It’s not what you say, but how you say it.”

Her smile faded just a tad as she spoke through tight lips. “Just lose the fake accent. It reeks to high heaven of Yankee imposter. We can’t have that now, can we?”

I dropped my smile and the accent. “Yeah, but my accent’s not the only thing that reeks around here,” I mumbled.

Cooper turned back to me, pointing to her upturned lips. “With a smile, if you please.”

I sneered at the back of her head as the maître d’ lead us through the boisterous lunch crowd over to our table. Our lunch companions were already seated. They turned to face us as we approached, their eyes appraising me as Cooper and I slid into our seats.

“Hi, I’m Sadie,” said the woman on the right. She had big blonde hair that hung down to the middle of her back. Her blouse crossed in the front and was overflowing with her generous bosom. Large golden jewelry, including an oversized cross, hung down to her waist. Bracelets circled each wrist. She extended a delicate hand. I shook it as I sat.

“And I’m Caitlin,” said the other. She was much leaner than Sadie with less makeup and jewelry. Chic but casual, she reminded me more of someone I would meet in San Diego than Nashville. “I hope you don’t mind but we went ahead and ordered. Prime rib salads. Is that okay?”

“Perfect,” Cooper agreed.

“Anyway, as I was sayin’ before y’all got here,” Caitlin said after Cooper and I had settled in our seats, “can you believe the nerve of the Senator Polk’s wife, standing up like that assertin’ her opinion on school lunches like she has some right to speak on the matter?”

“Oh, and did you see that dress?” chimed in Sadie. “It was atrocious. I heard she spent two thousand dollars on it. In this economy, with so many people strugglin’, I’d think she would show a little more prudence in public, is all I’m sayin’.”

The senator’s wife to which Sadie was referring just so happened to be a Democrat, and I knew this because today wasn’t the first time I’d heard some of Cooper’s friends trashing her. If the poor woman shopped at Ann Taylor, these people criticized her for not being poised enough. If she wore an expensive dress, they were even more derisive. Criticism of anyone in public office, or otherwise, for donning a pricey dress, for advocating quality meals for children, while we were all about to consume a thirty-dollar salad “in this economy” took irony to a whole new level.

“I’m sorry, Marlie, we’re goin’ on and on ’bout politics and we didn’t even bother to ask you ’bout your affiliation,” Sadie said, holding a hand to her fuchsia-colored lips. “How rude of us.”

Caitlin agreed. “That’s right, we shouldn’t assume that just because you’re married to a Cannon that you’re a conservative.”

All eyes, including Cooper’s, turned a vigilant stare on me. I forced a weak smile as my armpits started to moisten. I didn’t have an affiliation at the moment but the blue blood coursing through my veins advised me not to answer—not with my true feelings at least.

“I, um . . .” I shook my head, my gaze willing the waiter now making his way to our table with a large platter, to pick up the pace. Feigning a surprised look, I pointed toward our approaching lunch. “Looks like our food has arrived and none too soon. I’m starved,” I said with gusto and a pat to my tummy.

As I’d hoped, the arrival of our salads saved me. The conversation ebbed while everyone quietly watched the waiter place plates heaped with dark greens and slices of pink beef crisped to perfection down in front of us.

When the waiter moved away, Sadie held a hand out to Cooper and one to Caitlin. “Shall we pray?” Her eyes fell shut. The other women gripped her outstretched palms. I’d grown up praying over meals at home, but never had I done so in public.

Cooper took my left hand without asking then nodded toward Caitlin’s with an instant look.

“Oh,” I said under my breath, reaching over to take Caitlin’s hand.

With our small circle complete, Sadie began. “Oh Lord which art in heaven,” she called out with heightened emotion, her body rocking, head circling from side to side as she thanked a higher power for our meal with dramatic fervor. I’d never seen such an enthusiastic public display of religious conviction. I had to admire her passion.

After the prayer, the talk over carefully speared bites of salad circled around the Junior League’s summer fundraiser—buying athletic shoes for underprivileged athletes.

“Meet for Feet,” they were calling it. The event would kick-off with a 5k run and end with a fancy ball. Right now they were in the process of gathering used athletic shoes that they would then spray paint gold to use as centerpieces.

Maybe we should be more concerned with why a society as wealthy as ours has so many underprivileged,
I wanted to say, but then I couldn’t come up with a fun theme for a charity ball that advocated social equality. Plus, I was concentrating so hard on making sure I was using my utensils properly that I hardly had a chance to formulate my words, much less put a sweet spin on them. So focused, in fact, was I on suitably consuming my lunch that I didn’t notice the presence of a man sashaying over to our table.

“Afternoon, ladies,” he said with a silky Southern drawl.

I raised my eyes just enough to see Sadie’s necklaces tinkle together as she shook her hair back from her shoulders. “Hey there, Johnny,” she said, gazing up at him through her sweeping eyelashes.

Wearing a dress shirt and suit pants with the knot of his purple-striped tie loosened, he looked professionally disheveled. I didn’t have to lift my gaze all the way to Johnny’s to know he was staring directly at me. It was like I could feel his eyes touching my skin. I hadn’t seen him since the wedding but had, more often than I care to admit, found myself reliving our conversation, trying to make sense of what had transpired between us.

Why were my palms suddenly sweating? Digging my teeth into my bottom lip to steady my tenuous response to his presence, I finally raised my gaze to his. Vibrant green and sparkling with flecks of yellow, his eyes took hold of mine.