Ben sat down beside me on the couch and said, “Oh, TL, everyone in town knows that Mrs. Taylor is just a bitter old gossip. The only reason she would have said that is to get a rise out of you.” He squeezed my knee supportively. “And now you’re giving her just what she wants by letting her.”
He pulled me up, even though I was still limp as a week-old vase flower, and pulled me in close. He kissed my head and said, “You have plenty of friends here. It just hasn’t been long enough for you to get that close to any of them yet.”
I nodded and leaned my head on his shoulder. “I just don’t feel that initial ‘click’ with anyone, you know?”
“Oh, yeah. I know,” he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “I know all about what that click feels like.”
I wanted to give in to his dimples and sweet humor, but something inside me couldn’t let him off the hook that easily. “Why didn’t you tell me y’all dated?”
He shrugged. “It never came up, and it didn’t matter anyway. We said we weren’t going to talk about exes.”
“That’s technically true,” I said. “But, when Holden gave you a black eye, I didn’t say, ‘Oh, yeah, he’s just some annoying guy I went to college with.”
Ben rubbed my leg. “But, babe. Come on. Laura Anne didn’t punch you out by the pool.”
I rolled my eyes. “No, you’re right. She didn’t. In fact, I’ve yet to meet her. I’m not even sure she exists.”
Ben’s expression changed to that one I couldn’t resist. It was that look that reminded me, no matter what the circumstances, that he worshipped the ground I walked on. “TL, I fell for you so hard and so fast I haven’t taken a breath to look back. Why talk about the past when the present is everything you’ve ever dreamed of?”
I rolled my eyes, but I could feel myself softening. He kissed me and said, “I wasn’t expecting you home for at least another hour, so I’m only about halfway throughDie Hard.” Then he winked. “But I could be persuaded to pause it for later.”
I willed that prickle of heat up my spine to go away, not quite ready to make up this soon. “Ugh,” I said. “I’m going to take a bath.”
I walked down the pristine white runner in the hallway, glancing over at the sunset blanketing the pool, tucking in our little corner of town for the night. I could feel my anger beginning to dissipate when the phone I was still holding in my hand rang. And I was mad all over again.
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Taylor,” I said, as though she hadn’t totally shaken my world an hour earlier.
“Annabelle, darling, I wanted to talk to you about the Spring Fling, but you ran out before I got the chance.”
I could feel my eyes rolling toward heaven. Maybe I was askingGod to help save me from this woman. I was supposed to “just pick the art” for this party, yet, somehow, I had managed to get so many jobs that the title of “chair” was affixed to my forehead with superglue, though no one ever actually asked. In my head, I screamed:Leave me the hell alone. I can handle one damn fund-raiser.
But, instead, I said, “I’m so sorry I had to rush out. Ben wanted me to come home. You know how it is with newlyweds, hard to be apart for even a second!” It was a lie, but I hoped it emphasized to her that we were such a perfect couple that all of what he and Laura Anne had was totally eclipsed by a single night at home.
She laughed in that haughty way. “Well, I just wanted to let you know that I’m sure the gala has gotten to be a lot more than you bargained for—”
Ithadgotten to be a lot more than I had bargained for between soliciting corporate donations, getting auction items, negotiating with the band, the food, the flowers, the bar, the artists... But I would never, ever have acted like I couldn’t handle it, so I said, “Oh, no. Not at all. I’m thrilled to do my part.”
“Well, what I wassayingis that it has been so much work for one person that the committee and I decided to get you a co-chair.”
I actually felt sort of relieved. “Oh, great! Who did you have in mind?”
“Only the best party planner in town, sweetheart.”
I could feel the lump growing in my throat, and that nausea rising again, this time coupled with a lump that meant I was in serious danger of crying. I knew who the best party planner in town was without even asking. But I thrust myself onto the sword anyway. “Oh, who is that?”
“Why, Laura Anne, of course.”
Lovey
The Exact Man
July 1951
Agirl’s wedding day should be one of the most special of her life. But I didn’t have any grand visions of my wedding day, no matter what Momma said. I wasn’t expecting a cathedral full of socialites and out-of-season stems like Consuelo Vanderbilt. I didn’t anticipate an orchestra or five-star food.
All I wanted was a beautiful day, in my mother’s lace wedding gown, in the church that I had attended my entire life. Afterward, a little champagne punch and showing off my new wedding band to my closest friends would do.
Katie Jo, sitting on my pink bedspread, looked at my engagement ring hesitantly, as though I was wearing a live snake that may jump off and bite her. She sighed. “I can’t say that I’m particularly excited that you’re getting married. But Iamparticularly excited you’re not marrying Ernest Wake.”
