Tate (5 page)

“I’d like to some day.” I hoped I’d be the one to take her there.

***

Another week of evenings making small talk on the phone, chit-chatting about our days, and finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. We’d been casually getting to know each other for two months. I didn’t have a need to go - her shop wasn’t on my way to anywhere that I’d be able to say ‘I just stopped by’ when I walked in - but I headed that way anyhow. I figured it’d be close to closing time and I might be able to talk her into dinner. I called just before I got there, and when she answered, I could have slapped myself for being so damned happy.

“Hey, it’s Tate.”

“I know, I recognized the number,” she said, and there was a happy lilt to her voice. I know. I heard it.

“I was wondering if you might be available for a bite to eat.”

“I’m in the middle of a fitting,” she replied quickly.

“I can wait.” I’d give her time get comfortable with the idea, but I wasn’t giving up.

“It’s not a date. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page,” she replied cautiously, her voice almost a whisper. I’m pretty sure she was trying to convince herself – not me.

“Sure, sure,” I said, but suddenly I felt like a damn teenage boy.

“When?” she asked.

“Now.”

“Umm, Carlene is here. I told you we were finishing up a fitting.”

“She can join us. I need to meet the Queen Carlene,” I said.

“Well.” She hesitated. “What time?”

“I just pulled up.”

I saw her open the door. She was laughing with the phone still in her hand. Right behind her I saw Carlene Duncan rushing out in a royal blue sheath of sparkles, the fabric Maisie was working on during one of my previous visits to the shop. Carlene appeared as though she didn’t want to miss anything.

“My goodness, Maisie, who is this hunky man?” she asked as I stepped out of the truck. Her accent was so deep and rich with country twang that it felt like velvet when I heard it.

“This would be Tate Morrow,” Maisie said with a nervous laugh.

“I see,” Carlene purred, and looked me up and down. “Long legs, sandy-blonde hair, and oh, those blue eyes. I see.”

“Carlene, stop it!” Maisie chided, with a reluctant smile.

“Oh, I’ve heard him sing. I just heard the new single - your version of
Night Moves.
Your voice is so hot - you leave a sizzle behind when you’re done - but I sure never dreamed that voice came out of something like this,” Carlene said to me, looking at Maisie. “Have you heard it, Maisie?
Night Moves
? It’s sexy and sensual.”

“I haven’t,” Maisie replied.

“Heard a rumor or two that you’re gonna win that Best Country Song at the GRAMMY Awards. You’d deserve it.” 

“I don’t know, ma’am. There are plenty of good songs that I’m up against.”

“Really, Maisie, what’s he doing here, anyway?” she asked, giving Maisie the eye.

“Takin’ you to dinner,” I replied. I liked Carlene immediately.

“Oh, Tate, I don’t want to disappoint you, but I only date older men.”

“Carlene, you’re so bad! He’s taking US to dinner.”

“I
never
crash a party,” Carlene said drawing out the word never so that the ‘ver’ sound on the end was like a purr.

“It’s not a party,” Maisie said quickly.

“I’d love for you to come, Carlene. It’s just a bite to eat,” I said, giving Maisie some relief.

Carlene replied with her signature phrase. “Lovely! I’m craving some fried pickles!”

“Go change, Carlene,” Maisie said, as Carlene turned to go to the changing room.  “That dress fits you like a glove.”

She stopped and looked back over her shoulder, winked, and said, “that’s the way I like’em, sugah’, huggin’ my assets!”

I watched Maisie and saw a completely different person in the company of Carlene Duncan. There was something special there, but I didn’t think it was just vests and dresses.

We piled into my truck, Carlene in the front and Maisie in the back. At Carlene’s direction, we headed to Doc Holiday’s.

“So, Tate, tell me about your mama, ‘cuz I’m all about the mama.”

“Do you have children?” I asked.

“Carlene, I’ve discovered something about Tate. If you ask him a question, he answers you with another question before he answers yours,” Maisie giggled from her perch in the middle of the back seat.

Carlene replied with a questioning, “Hmmm?”

“Not what you think,” Maisie replied quickly.

“And how do
you
know what
I’m
thinkin’, little one?”

“I hate when she calls me that,” Maisie huffed.

“Well, you are little,” I said, and all three of us laughed.

“No. I don’t have children, but I know all about the mama. And I’ve sure been around
plenty
of men.” I liked the way Carlene seemed to change the English language by dragging the words out. Plenty was plen-teeee.

“I think the way a man talks about his mama says many things about the man. So, tell me about your mama, Tate.”

I obliged Carlene’s request and told them about Fay Morrow. I watched Maisie in the rear view mirror, listening as I talked. I saw her smile when she didn’t know I was watching, and I observed Carlene as she gave me the eye every chance she got.

When we walked inside the restaurant, I looked around. I saw many familiar faces. Carlene laughed as we passed them. “Still a little star-struck over all of this?”

“Yes, ma’am. Still find myself waking up wondering what the hell just happened!”

The three-way banter continued throughout our meal. It was fun. Finally, my female guests excused themselves and made a trip to the restroom.

***

Maisie

Carlene was like a cat ready to pounce on some unsuspecting prey when we entered the lady’s room.

“Maisie? You got some deep dark secret you’ve been hiding from me?” she asked.

“Nope,” I said.

Standing at the sink a few minutes later as I washed my hands, she continued. “Look here little one, you can hide whatever you want from whomever you choose, but remember, I know you. I’m seeing a different person in you tonight than I’ve seen in a very long time. You might as well give it up because I
will
wear you down.”

She said it with a laugh, but I knew she meant it. Carlene was relentless when she wanted to know something.

“You haven’t even looked at a man in the last three years, much less talked to one, and it’s apparent to me that you have talked to this one more than a brief hello.”

I lifted myself to sit on the bathroom counter to talk. “Carlene, I haven’t met one worth a conversation, and we’ve shared many conversations the last several weeks. Maybe it’s his persistence. He keeps coming to the shop and he’s followed me home twice. It felt comforting, like he wanted to watch over me, make sure I got there safely - protective. He’s nice.”

“He’s huge, and a fine hunk of man, if you ask me,” Carlene said.

“I don’t think I heard anyone ask,” I replied, and then laughed out loud.

I wasn’t ready to share my real feelings with Carlene yet, but that man had me all kinds of fidgety. As soon as he walked in the door the first time with Audra, I felt my heart skip a beat.

Different than Blake’s dark, metrosexual handsome, Tate Morrow was a good-looking, rugged man. His sandy hair and boyish looks made him a different kind of handsome. He had to be 6’4” or so, and he was built like the fine hunk of man Carlene mentioned - lean and toned. His hair curled at the collar of his shirt. His eyes were blue, the softest blue I’ve ever seen, yet they felt warm and welcoming. He made a pair of jeans look like the best thing I’d ever seen. I had to look away whenever he was around, because he had me fanaticizing about the body beneath.

As I marked to tailor his clothes, I had to chant repeatedly in my head,
you can’t touch him like that.
As I ran my hands along his body checking the fit of the shirt, I felt the lines and muscles. He was the most physically attractive man I’d ever seen. I wanted to devour him. I haven’t had a man affect me like that since Blake. I wasn’t sure what to think about it.

It wasn’t just his looks; he was a big flirt, and I worked hard to feign disinterest - to give him a cold shoulder. I gave him the best quick comebacks that I could in an attempt to ward him off. I didn’t have a place in my life for flirty men, but I had to admit that I liked this one. He just kept coming back and I wanted it to make me mad. I tried real hard to let him think it did and that I had no interest, but the reality of it was that I
was
interested - I just wasn’t ready to even give in to the idea of it. Every time a thought of Tate Morrow crossed my mind, a memory of Blake would enter my head and push Tate aside.

I wasn’t ready.

“Maisie, you know I love you…” I heard Carlene say, halting the trance that thoughts of Tate Morrow had me in.

“And when Tate was talking about his mama, I was thinking of you,” I interrupted, “and Granny, not Kitty.” Just mentioning my mother sent a shiver up my spine, making the hair on my neck stand up. “We’ve been through a lot together, Carlene. You and Granny saved me when Kitty was out hittin’ the bars, grabbing a piece of any man who had more than twenty bucks in his pocket. I know it was that crazy vest that brought us together, but when I think back over the last fourteen years, it’s you who I see beside me. You were the first one I saw when I opened my eyes after the accident, not Granny. It was you. You’ve rescued me twice in my life and I’m not sure you know how much I love you.”

“I do, sugah. Now, listen here, give this one a chance. I want to see you soar again, little one. You are my heart, Maisie – the daughter I never wanted, but I’m sure glad I have you.”

“We better get back to the table, or he’s going to think we soared our happy asses right outta here and left him behind,” I laughed.

“Wait,” Carlene said, taking my hand before I grabbed the door handle. I turned to look. The expression on her face melted my heart. “He’s a nice man. He’s a good man. I know these things. I love you.”

“I love you too. Let’s go.”

When we got back to the table, Tate rose from his chair while we sat down. Carlene smiled, and shot a wink my direction.

***

Tate

I was sure there was some kind of powder-room pow-wow going on - they’d been gone for a while. Finally, I saw them heading toward the table. I saw a look on Maisie’s face that I hadn’t experienced before. I secretly hoped it was me that put it there.

“Your mama raised you right,” Carlene said, once they were seated.

“Mama and Popie laid down the law,” I laughed, thinking about it.

“Your grandfather?” Maisie asked.

“My oldest sister. Her name is Penelope, and when my other sister,
Gabriella,
started talking she called her Popie and it stuck. I’m the baby, so I guess the girls had some say in the man I became. We call Gabriella Gabby and it fits! I grew up surrounded by women that made me a better man.”

“Seems like they did a nice job,” Carlene said.

“Do you have brothers or sisters, Maisie?”

“Nope, just me.” I noticed that her answer was somewhat abrupt. I decided not to ask anything more.

“Young’uns, it’s about time for my beauty rest,” Carlene declared.

I took care of the check, and we were making our way to the door when a couple of young girls started screaming because they recognized me. I stopped for a picture as Maisie and Carlene hit the door.

“You’ll get used to that,” Carlene said, as I closed the truck door for her.

When we got back to the shop, Carlene headed for her car and yelled, “Lovely, y’all! It was a lovely evening!” She drove away in a shiny red Cadillac, squealing her tires.

“You two seem really close,” I noted.

“We are,” Maisie replied. She paused a moment. Finally, she asked, “Are you gonna follow me home again?”

“I think I have to.” She looked up at me with a smile as I continued. “Even if I just sit in the truck and watch you walk in the door, I think I have to.”

The smile grew into the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. “There’s a Wendy’s on the way. Stop and get Frostys. Vanilla for me, please - the small one,” she said, and drove off.

Fifteen minutes later, I was knocking on her front door.

“My goodness! Did you get the biggest ones they have?”

“If you don’t eat it, I will. I’m a big boy,” I said, and she laughed.

We sat at opposite ends of the sofa, Maisie with her feet Indian-style and a small blanket over her lap. “Tell me more about your family,” she said.