The Sweet By and By (7 page)

Jade moved to the edge of the room, curious. Rebel defied her understanding. She liked him, sort of a larger-than-life patriarch, but she had yet to figure him out.

“Hey.” A soft kiss touched her cheek. Warm, smoky breath grazed the nape of her neck.

“Where have you been?” Jade whispered.

“Outside, inhaling secondhand cigar smoke.”

“Don't even try it.” She peeked up at Max. “I saw you out the window, holding your own cigar, regaling your friends with a story.”

“Shh, Dad's fixing to talk.”

“Tonight we celebrate my son's impending doom . . .” Rebel bowed toward Max and Jade as laughter pinged around the room. Next to him, June beamed at the guests, hands clasped at her waist.

“I thought you hated smoking,” Jade whispered.

“I took one puff. One.” He grinned, slipping his hand around her waist.

“Burl insisted.”

From his makeshift stage, Rebel bantered back and forth with hecklers, most of the ribbing coming from his golf buddy, Bump Davis.

“Please don't tell me you submitted to peer pressure at thirty-six” She jabbed his ribs with her elbow. “Dork.”

“Once a fraternity man—”

“Always a frat boy.” Jade pillowed her head against his chest, easing against him. Her frat boy.

“Don't bust me just because you were always the good girl,” he murmured in her ear.

“All right, now, back to the purpose at hand.” Rebel easily took back the reins of the room. “June and I are so happy Jade has agreed to take Max off our hands.” Laughter peppered Rebel's words. “With that in mind, y'all know why you're here. June made every serving of beef Wellington with her own hands, even killed the fatted calf, I believe, in honor of tonight and our son. So let's get going. Be generous. It's not every day a man gets to partake of June Benson's cooking. I should know.”

“Can't afford to be generous in case there's a doctor bill, Reb. Last time I had June's beef Wellington—”

“Tom Floyd”—June pressed her hand to her flushed cheek, smiling— “don't shame me now.”

“Exactly, June-bug. An insult adds an extra zero to your most generous gift, Tom, my Scrooge friend,” Rebel said. “And that's
after
the comma.”

“What insult? I got the doctor bill to prove it.” Tom was a short, balding man with round shoulders, a round chin, and a round belly.

The guests erupted and Jade watched June roll with the merriment, though Jade guessed she didn't really find the moment funny.

Max bent to Jade's ear. “Tom owns the Floyd Banking Association.”

“Max, I don't get it. What's going on?”

“Watch and see.”

“For the rest of our esteemed guests . . .” Rebel gazed around the room. Someone had handed him a cigar and he held it between his fingers, unlit. “I've been to these same parties for your children and grandchildren.” He jammed the cigar between his lips and puffed out his belly. “Don't think I haven't kept records of my own donations over the years.”

“We wouldn't expect anything less of you.” A masculine quip fired from the back of the great room.

“Keep it up, Harv.” Rebel jabbed the air with the cigar. “You owe me since I fixed your grandson's mess.”

“All taken care of, Reb.” A white envelope appeared above the guests' heads.

“June, where's the basket?”

She stepped up on the hearth. Rebel steadied her. “There are two baskets on the sideboard in the front hall. One for your gift, another for notes of encouragement.”

“There you go.” Rebel wrapped up her instructions. “Don't forget the notes, folks. I know the kids will appreciate all your fine wisdom and advice. And Bump, don't write ‘your wife is always right,' because we know how well that philosophy has worked for you.”

Laughter exploded, filling up the high ceilinged room.

“I still say my advice is good.” Bump moved toward the hall, pausing in front of Max and Jade. “And one of these days, I'll prove it.”

Max's chest rumbled against Jade's back. “In the meantime, what do I do, Bump?”

The silver-haired man winked at Jade. “Let her think she's always right.”

Rebel hopped off the hearth. Couples huddled, laughing and murmuring, then filed into the hall.

“I met Rice,” Jade said, turning to face Max.

“Oh?” His grip around her waist slacked. “She missed dinner. I wasn't sure if she was coming.”

“Well, she did. You never said she was a lawyer, or that she moved back to Tennessee to work at Benson Law.”

“Dad wanted a patent department.” Max kissed her forehead. “He called Rice and invited her down. I found out a week before she walked into the office.”

Couples breezed by them, waving white envelopes and smiling. Jade smiled back. What was it Rebel said they were doing? Her mind had been wandering, thinking about her conversation with Rice, not really listening to Rebel's speech. Must be taking a collection for a Benson charity. They used every occasion to raise money.

Back to Max. “She said your relationship was hard at the end. Something about hoping it'd work out.”

“Rice says a lot of things.” Max affirmed Jade by pulling her closer. “This is our night, Jade, and I don't want to talk about Rice. Now, or ever. Our relationship is over, buried in the past. What matters is you and me”—he touched her lips with his thumb—“and new beginnings.”

“Max. Son, over here,” Rebel beckoned.

Max lifted his lips from Jade's and peeked across the room. “Shoot, he's with Dickson Waters. Potential client.”

“Work never ends, does it?” Jade commented. The slender, bearded man with Rebel wore a vintage Pierre Cardin tuxedo. “See if he wants to sell his tux.”

“Want him to take it off so you can carry it home?”

“Oh, could you do that for me? Thanks.” Jade kissed his cheek and shoved him toward his dad and the client.

“Careful, babe. My back.” Max covered his lower back with his broad hand.

Jade winced. Three trips to the physical therapist hadn't done much for the pain. When Jade asked him about the pain meds, he changed the subject.

Over by the kitchen, Rice talked with June, patting her shoulders while nodding, her lips forming short phrases. After a moment, June hugged her, then slipped inside the kitchen.

Well, enough of this wing-ding. Jade was ready to go home. The lovely evening and gracious company no longer distracted her from the pinch of her dress's waistband. She was ready for baggy pajamas and an old movie on TMC.

Max appeared to be finishing up with his father and vintage-tux man. Jade decided to deposit her glass in the kitchen and tap his shoulder as she passed. Their signal for “time to go.”

“Jade, over here.” An inebriated man propped against the wall by the kitchen door
pssst
-ed her. Sloppy and slow, he tapped a blank check. “I don't have a wife to tell me what to do. What do you think? One, two? Five?”

Jade peeked at the check. “I can't tell you how much to give.” She glanced around. “Maybe one of your friends can help you . . . what charity is this for anyway?” She didn't bring her checkbook, but she'd bring a check around tomorrow.

“Come on, Jade, don't be shy. This isn't for charity. You're why we're all here in monkey suits listening to parlor music. Five? Is that good? Y'all need a house, don't you? Can't live in his bachelor condo forever. There's no place for kids.”

The man jammed his hand inside his tuxedo jacket. “Do you got a pen?”

“What do you mean, I'm why you're all here?”

“Ah, here it is.” The man lifted a ballpoint from his side pocket. Jade watched as he wrote
five thousand
in a large, loopy script. “For you and Max.

Seed money.”

“Five thousand?” she said, the words coming out more loudly than she intended. “Dollars?” Her words billowed, stopping all commotion. “For Max and me?”

“Should it be more?” The man eyed her with a cloudy gaze before pointing with his pen across the room. “Bump Davis, don't cheat the kids now.”

“You worry about yourself, Taylor.”

“Wait, everyone, please. Stop!” Jade charged into the middle of the room.

“Is this why you came here tonight? To give us money?”

“Babe . . .” Max gently tugged her from the middle of the room, whispering in her ear, “It's okay.”

“No, it's not.” Heat rolled down her neck, across her torso. “Put your checkbooks and wallets away, please.”

“Jade, sugar, settle down.” Rebel chewed on the tip of his unlit stogie. “This is our tradition for our kids and grandkids.”

“Whose tradition, Rebel? Yours? Bump's? Tom and Taylor's? Nettie's?” The burn on her face intensified, and she began to tremble. “Certainly not mine.”

“Jade.” Max's fingers bit into her flesh. “Shh.”

He walked her to the edge of the great room and said in a low voice, “These people are my parents' friends. My friends, soon to be yours. Not to mention, your business demographic.”

“This is humiliating, Max.” Her whisper was too loud. “Do they think I expected this? Wanted it? We don't need their hard-earned money. I saw your last bonus check, and the shop is holding its own. We don't want for anything.”

“It's not about how well we're doing or not doing. It's about tradition. My parents and their friends have been doing this for their children since I was a kid. I'm not the first recipient. In fact, I'm one of the last.”

“So that man Tom, the Scrooge, who has to add an extra zero after the comma, has to give us at least a thousand dollars? That's absurd.”

“A thousand? More like ten thousand,” Max said, shaking his head, smiling. “Tom's the most generous.”

“Ten thousand dollars?” Hot embers burned between Jade's ribs, and without looking, she could sense the guests' curious stares. “I don't even know these people.”

“But I do.” Max's tight-lipped response lacked patience.

“I can't do this, Max. It's embarrassing. These people are my clients and customers. How can I look them in the eye after this? I'll feel as if they think I'm charging prices based on the size of their wallets. Or as if I owe them something. Money changes relationships and people. Trust me, I know. Max, we're fine without being beholden to tens of thousands of dollars from the Whisper Hollow elite.”

Jade was a bit of a chip off her mama's shoulder. She had no desire for things, or wealth, or the attached strings.

The kitchen door burst open with a wide swing and June's petite form created an angular silhouette in the block of light falling on the imported wool rug.

“Jade.” June jerked her into the kitchen, away from the guests. “Would you please be quiet? Who do you think you are? Coming into our home and insulting our friends.”

“I'm not insulting anyone.” Jade's pulse thickened in her veins. “But I'm trying not to be indebted to half the town. This is ridiculous, coercing people into giving Max and me money just because you served homemade beef Wellington.”

“It's not the beef Wellington, Jade. It's the tradition, the friendships, how we do things in the Hollow. Something you know nothing about.”

“Mom.” Max stepped between them.

“Rebel and I have given thousands of dollars to
their
children and grandchildren.” June pointed toward the door. “Tonight is our night, our season to celebrate our only son's wedding with them. Then you come along, and—”

“Calm down, Mom. She didn't know.”

“Don't speak as if I'm not here, Max.” Jade glowered at him. “June, the Hollow is my town too. And this is my wedding.”

June closed her eyes, inhaling deep. “—and you stand there, Jade, in all your vintage shop glory and demand they put away their checkbooks, insisting their money isn't good enough for you.”

“I never said their money wasn't good enough.” Tears washed her eyes and she shivered a bit from the confrontation despite the warmth of the kitchen.

“Your actions spoke loud and clear.” June trembled as she clenched her hands into fists. “In the twenty years we've been celebrating in this way, no one has ever protested our generosity. Not even the Pryor girl from up the mountain, the one Clyde Jones' boy married.”

“All right, Mom, enough, we get it. Don't make more out of it than it is. At least she had the courage to stand up for her convictions. Your friends”—Max motioned toward the great room—“will understand. Half of them wish they had her boldness.”

“
Our
friends, Max?” She crossed her hands in the center of her chest. “Yours too. And will they understand? I can just imagine the conversations driving home tonight, while lying in bed, in the morning over coffee.” She wagged her finger at him. “You're partly to blame. Why didn't you tell her?”

“I don't know . . .” He reached for Jade's hand. “Didn't seem like such a big deal.”

Jade tightened her fingers around his when she caught the spark in June's eyes
.

“Big
deal
?” She punched “big” and “deal” with a one, two of her lips and tongue. “How could you not know it was a big deal? This was a dinner party, in your honor.” June deflated and turned away, the chiffon skirt of her wine-colored gown whirling a half second behind. She pressed one hand to her forehead, another against the kitchen island.

“Mom.” Max stretched his hand to her shoulder, and the movement made him moan and wince.

“Max.” June faced him, her pink-ringed eyes dark with concern. “Your back? Still?”

“Yeah, Mom, still.”

June pinched her lips into a thin, pale line. “Jade, can you give us a moment?”

“Mom, no, she doesn't need to leave.”

“I need to speak to you alone.”