The Sweet By and By (10 page)

One thing she loved about her shop in Whisper Hollow was it required very little renovation. Her biggest expense was refinishing the wood and painting the walls.

She'd considered several downtown properties when she began the journey of opening her own place. But she'd wanted to live in Whisper Hollow. Discovering the availability of the Five & Dime was a divine kiss on her dream.

“Where's your imagination, Jade? Picture it finished, painted, filled with your tasteful inventory.”

“June, what's going on? I thought we came to have lunch at Aretha Frankenstein's.”

“Nothing's going on.” June pulled together the edges of her scarlet pea coat and crossed her arms. “I think this would be a great space for a second shop. Blue Umbrella Two.”

“Blue Umbrella Two?”

“You're going to be a Benson, Jade. You need to learn to think big, think corporate. Legacy. Tradition.”

Despite heavy tourist traffic up in the Hollow today—the fall colors were spectacular—Jade had closed up shop when June called last minute for a lunch date. She'd hoped to make amends for her dinner party blunder. What she didn't want to do was property shop.

The heels of June's black boots scraped the floor as she walked. The flare hem of her gray slacks almost touched the cement. “I like this. It feels good.”

“But I'm not interested in a Blue Umbrella Two.” In fact, Jade had never mentioned expanding to anyone except— “Well?” Sean Dunham, of Dunham Development, entered through the glass and metal front door. “Jade, what do you think?”

“I think it's nice.” Big mouth. Teach her to trust a father-like stranger. “But not for me.”

“She's being stubborn, Sean.” June crossed over to him, shaking her head.

“Actually, I'm being practical.” In the spring, Jade had met the Chattanooga developer, a longtime friend of the Bensons, at a charity cookout. Over grilled Johnsonville brats, Sean coaxed her into dreaming about a second shop.

“I suppose practical is wise.” Sean shoved his suit coat back, settling his hands on his belt. “But this is a great location at a great price. The space is perfect for vintage retail. Right on the Tennessee, across from Coolidge Park, in the heart of the downtown revival and art district.” Sean arched his silver eyebrows.

“I appreciate you thinking of me, Sean, but I'm getting married in three weeks and Blue Umbrella
One
is barely making money. I couldn't afford this place even if I was desperate for a Blue Umbrella Two.”

“Rebel and I are thinking of investing in your business, Jade.”

“I see.” Was June testing her? If she wouldn't accept their friends' money, would she accept theirs?

“No pressure, Jade, but just to make you aware, I have several bids on this space.” The heels of Sean's loafers echoed among the beams as he walked.

“I think you should do what you have to do, Sean.” She tried not to feel set up, but she did.

“Tell you what, Sean.” June brushed her hand against his sleeve. “Send the details over to the office. Reb will have Lance Olin take a look and advise Jade.”

“I'll do it.” Sean turned to Jade. “What do you say?”

She liked to think she learned from her mistakes. With a nod, she said, “Send it on over.” She'd worry about saying no later.

“Good.” June popped her hands together, looking as if she'd won. “Now let's eat. Sean, we're going to Aretha Frankenstein's. Care to join us?”

“My mouth is watering for one of their ‘waffles of insane greatness,'” he said, holding open the door, slipping a key from a large ring into the lock. “I'll meet you ladies there.”

Walking to June's Audi, Jade struggled to keep her thoughts to herself. But once they were in the car, June kicked the door wide.

“Could you be a little more gracious?” June adjusted the heat blasting from the vents as she backed out of the parking spot. The noon sun had defrosted the cold morning. The deep chill rolling down from the hills had melted in the city's warmth.

“About being railroaded?” Jade snapped her seatbelt in the lock. “I'm not even sure what happened back there.”

“I brought you an excellent investment opportunity.” June headed east on Tremont, toward Aretha Frankenstein's.

Jade cradled her handbag. So far, none of the responses running through her head were appropriate.

“June, don't take this wrong, but no, you didn't bring me an investment opportunity. You brought me along for one of your ideas. I've got enough going on with one shop. If I opened a second, I'd have to hire a manager, divide my time, increase my inventory. It's not like manufacturing reps come knocking on my door. I have to go out and find what I sell, look for consigners. Besides, I want my first year of marriage to be about Max and me, not a Blue Umbrella Two.”

“Are you adverse to any help? Or are you so self-sufficient you don't need others?”

“Is this about the other night?”

“You tell me.”

If she only knew. “June, you've done so much for me already . . . planning the wedding, paying for most of it, welcoming me into your family and circle of friends. Can it just be simple and straightforward? I don't want another shop.”

June cruised up to the curb by Aretha Frankenstein's, shut off the Audi, and set the emergency brake. “Yes, it can. As long as you know it's fine to be independent, but it's also wise to know when to say ‘Yes, thank you very much.' To know when to speak, and when to hold your opinions to yourself.”

Jade paused. “We're not talking about the property anymore, are we?”

“There are things, Jade . . . Expectations.” June combed the ends of her hair with her fingers.

“Like?” Small knots floated through Jade's emotions.

“Like understanding the way the game is played.”

Jade reached for the door handle. “I'm not playing games, June.”

Sean Dunham was in the waiting area of the colorful restaurant, converted from an old neighborhood house. If Jade had rattled June with her comment, the elegant woman hid it well.

“How about the corner table, under the window?” Sean led the way, motioning for the waitress to come over. He had a commanding air; he obviously knew which privileges to expect.

After ordering lunch, the table conversation started off slow, with chit-chat about the weather and UT football, and Sean's season tickets on the fifty yard line. He'd already invited Reb to the Florida game.

Then one of them mentioned the city council, and the conversation raced down the political track. Jade mentally checked out.

Really, what was June's motive today? Hijacking their lunch for a real-estate pitch. Jade uncrossed her legs and shifted sideways in her chair, peering out the window. Did June want to make a point about her control? Her power and position?

It'd been over a week since she'd rebuked Jade for protesting the gift-giving dinner. Since then, Max had been busy with a client and a weekend seminar in Atlanta on blogging law. They had yet to talk in-depth about his conversation in the kitchen with June.

June's laugh rose above the din of the dining room and cut into Jade's musings. Across the table, the woman pressed her hand against Sean's bicep, then squeezed his chin with her fingers.

“I don't believe you. No sir, not the great Sean Dunham. There must be dozens of eligible women for you to date. You just don't want to see—”

“Excuse me.” Jade slid away from the table. “I need to make a call. June, I'm meeting an estate broker from Kentucky at two, so we should leave by one thirty.”

“All right, dear, whatever you need,” she said, propping her elbow on the table, resting her chin between her fingers. “Fine.”

Was she flirting? With Sean? Right in front of her? There was Southern-charm flirting, and then there was make-your-husband-jealous flirting. And June flirted with the line.

Cheating on Rebel wasn't June Benson's style. She had her rules and traditions, her very strong opinions, and her flirtatious charm. But she was faithful.

Walking toward the ladies' room, Jade autodialed Max. A longing for him made her heart pump, and she wondered what he'd think about her adventure with his mom today. He was good about giving Jade perspective.

“Hello?”

Jade stopped. “Max?”

“Hey, Jade, what's up?”

She whirled around. “Why am I hearing you in stereo?”

“Stereo? What are you talking about?”

Jade scanned the dining area. Because it was a converted house, the room wasn't exactly square. There. She spotted the tip of his dark head and started weaving his way. “Are you at Aretha Frankenstein's?”

“How'd you know?”

“Because I'm here too.” Jade stopped just shy of his table. His head was tipped toward a dark, feminine one, and his hand rested on a woman's slender forearm.

“Where are you?” Max jumped up, whirling around, almost colliding with Jade.

Rice McClure looked up at Jade, her eyes watery and red.

“What's going on?” Jade gazed between Max and Rice, who stared at a wadded napkin. The scene made Jade feel as if she were on the outside peering in, like the scorned girlfriend trying to win back her man.

“No-nothing's going on. What are you doing here?” Max peered down at Rice.

It started with a thought.
What if he still loves her?
The notion exploded in Jade's mind, scattering fear fragments over the valleys of her heart. The light of her soul flickered.

She'd been here before . . .

Don't . . . think . . . Sinking . . . No, no . .
. Jade shifted her weight, taking a step backward. Her eyes darted about the small room.
Alone, they want to be . . . alone. Where to . . . focus. Daphne said . . . the window . . . light . . . focus on the window.

The clanking sounds of dishes faded to the background. Jade's fingers gripped the praying hands medallion hanging around her neck.

Don't want . . . to go . . . crazy.

“Jade?” Confusion, no, impatience darkened Max's expression.

Rice rose from her chair, her eyes red, her brunette hair neatly tucked behind her ears. “Jade, are you okay?”

“I'm fine . . . fine.” Jade pulled her arms tight against her torso and moved backward, bumping into the table behind her. Water and tea sloshed over the tops of the diners' full drink glasses. A bully-faced man jumped away from the table, knocking over his chair.

“Babe, babe.” Max lunged for her, apologizing to the Aretha Frankenstein's patron. “Your lunch is on me.”

Jade peered at the man.
I'm sorry. So sorry.

“Jade, sweetheart, what's going on?” Max grabbed her by the waist and steered her to a nook in the back of the restaurant.

The walls gathered around, the ceiling hovered just over her head . . .
Out . . . I want out . .
.
Need air
. Jade broke free from Max and bolted between the tables and out the front door. The golden afternoon sun cut a bold light across her vision as she stumbled down the stone steps. His footsteps crunched behind her.

Where did she park? Darkness slashed through her thoughts, raiding her sense of self. Her car. Where was her car? Jade wanted to go home, to the Hollow, to her safe boundaries.

“Jade, tell me, what's going on?” Max handcuffed her wrist with his tight grip.

“You, Rice, your mom . . . I, I . . .” Jade shook her head gently, releasing her arm from Max's hand, and teetered on the edge of reason.

“Mom? She's here?”

“What are you doing here with Rice?” Jade tore off her jacket, letting it slip down her arms and hang from her wrists. The cool air felt perfect against her hot skin.

“She wanted to talk.”

“You work at the same office, Max—on the other side of the river I might add. You had to come here to talk? You had to hold her hand?”

“I wasn't holding her hand. She's upset about her boyfriend in D.C., and she asked if we could go to lunch.”

With a deep inhale, Jade peered at Max. “Do you love her?”

“No.” Max propped his hands on his leather belt, eyes narrowed at her. “Is that what this show is about?”

“Show?” He had to hate seeing his fiancée insecure and clinging. Jade stepped off the curb. “I need to go. An estate broker from Kentucky is meeting me at the shop.”

“Jade, is everything all right?” June asked, with Sean and Rice following.

Max slipped his arm around Jade. “Mom, she's fine. Sean, how are you?” Max clapped his hand into the developer's.

Jade's pulse slowed as reason gained ground, and she rested her head against Max's shoulder. Rice stood off to one side, her eyes narrowed and observing. She smiled with a mini wave when Jade's gaze crossed hers.

“What are you and Jade doing down here, Mom?” Max said.

“Blame Sean here. He has a property on River Street he thought would be great for a second Blue Umbrella.”

“You want space in the city?” Max peered down at Jade, his smile rescuing her from the muddy emotional pit.

“Your mom thinks I should open up a second shop.”

“But do you?” Tender, patient, focusing only on her.

“No, actually.” There, she confessed it for June and Sean to hear. “Maybe someday.” Jade pulled Max away from the watching gallery. “It's you I want.

Not a second store. Not your parents' friends' money. Just. You.” The confession came from a deep, secret place in her heart, where only a few treasures lived. Paps and Granny, Aiden and Willow. And now Max.

His lips brushed her ear. “It's you I want. Just. You. Not an old fiancée who couldn't stick around when the going got tough. She was always more like a buddy than a girlfriend. And don't let Mom's ideas become yours . . . unless you want.”

“I'll stick with you, Max, I promise, if you'll stick with me.” She whispered her promise against his chest, the pound of her pulse matching the easy pulse of the breeze.