A Change of Heart (39 page)

A restaurant is a really hard business, but R.J. is so clever and charismatic.
 

"Yeah, a waffle house, that's what I'm thinking."

"But there are waffle houses all over the place.
 
Why not some chic little bistro?
 
Get musicians in, make it a hangout?"

"What, with six or seven tables?
 
And some high-priced New Orleans chef?"
 
R.J. looking at me like I'm out of my mind.

"People like that sort of thing."

"Yeah, if they really liked it, there'd be one in town.
 
I'm thinking a waffle house, I told you.
 
Then a chain of waffle houses.
 
Welner Waffles on every corner.
 
The trouble with you, Annabeth, is you think small.
 
You can't think small and get anywhere in this world."

Dropping the sign into a trash bag, Annabeth shook her head.
 
How many times had R.J. said that to her?
 
How many times had he complained that her dreams were ordinary?
 
Too many.
 
There was a fire in him, though, something very appealing about it, R.J. always dreaming, always wanting to fulfill those dreams.
 
It was so exciting to hear, to be swept along on them.
 
But how many of his dreams had he actually fulfilled?
 
Annabeth shook her head again.
 
So few.
 
All talk and no action, that's what R.J. was.
 
And she'd loved him so.

Annabeth looked down to see the cat winding around her leg.
 
She reached a loving hand down to pet his soft fur.
 
"Dinner time already, is it?
 
You're a hungry boy?"
 
She reached down, scooped him up, then held him close to her chest in a hug, his cheek automatically rubbing against her own.
 
Then, setting him down, she rose and followed the racing cat down the stairs, a filled plastic bag in her hand.

Later that evening, after she'd worked some more upstairs, Annabeth, strangely filled with unending energy, sat at her kitchen table, painting the cottages she'd envisioned, taking her time, enjoying her work.
 
She didn't have small dreams.
 
She didn't think small.
 
And her painting was improving.
 
Annabeth followed the same routine each day.
 
Mornings she worked on knick knacks, afternoons she cleaned out the attic, and in the evenings, she sat at the kitchen table, working on the series of cottages.

The following week was devoted to Thanksgiving preparations.
 
She shopped for all the ingredients, readied the house, and cooked.
 
On Wednesday Annabeth made pies, as she had for years, some for her feast, some for Julie, who always took them along to Bobby's family in Mobile.
 
On Thursday morning, she rose early, made stuffing and popped the turkey in the oven.
 
Soon Laurel, who'd arrived the day before, joined her in the kitchen and began to help.
 

They worked side by side for a couple of hours, the conversation pleasant and casual, until Laurel squealed, "Oh my gosh!" and ran upstairs.
 
Thinking there was a crisis, Annabeth was about to race after her when the doorbell rang.
 
By the time Laurel came downstairs, Annabeth was busy pouring drinks for the other four members of her family.

"Have you seen this yet?" asked Laurel as she walked into the living room.
 
She held the issue of Southern Style which featured her apartment, and like a child at show and tell, she began turning the pages, holding the magazine up for all to see at once, and describing each element in detail.

"How wonderful it looks," commented Sally.

"Beautiful," said Ginger.

"Imaginative," said Will.

Everyone nodded in agreement as Annabeth smiled.
 
How nice that her family was being so supportive and appreciative for a change.

"Gee, I have an old cabinet in the garage--I bet you could do wonders with it," said Ginger, but before Annabeth could answer the doorbell rang again and she went to let Doug in.

"Oh, wow," she said, taking from him a huge bouquet of roses.
 
How nice of you."

 
He followed her into the kitchen, still carrying a basket filled with fragrant biscuits and a bottle of white wine as well, both of which he set down on the counter as she retrieved a vase for the flowers.

"Mmm, biscuits," she said, recognizing the smell.

"Not much of a contribution," he said, "But they are home made,"

 
Breathing deeply to inhale the aroma of the biscuits, Annabeth enthused, "These smell wonderful!"

"Thanks!
 
My not so secret recipe."

"You cook?
 
I'm so impressed.
 
And they look perfect!"

"Now you'll really want to drag me upstairs and seduce me," he said in a lowered voice, looking so deeply into Annabeth's eyes that her knees began to buckle.

Breaking open one of the steaming biscuits, Annabeth popped a piece into her mouth, saying "Mmm," then inserted another morsel into Doug's mouth, her fingers brushing across his lips and creating a spark of static electricity, causing them both to jump back, then to laugh.
 
"Come on, meet the family, before your electricity makes me weak in the knees."

"You mean it hasn't already?
 
I must be slipping," he chuckled, as he followed her into the living room.

The introductions done, they adjourned to the dining room.
 

"Hawkins," said Will, "Like Hawkins Ford, that's right, I remember you coming back to town.
 
Weren't you the boy who helped my daughter with her algebra?"

 
"Yes," Doug grinned, "That's me."

"I was going to come to see you about a new car."
 
For a few minutes Will monopolized the conversation, asking Doug about various vehicles and the deal he might get and listening thoughtfully to the answers Doug gave until Laurel interrupted.

"Mr. Hawkins, did you see the magazine spread of my apartment and all Mom's artwork," Laurel asked, wanting a change from the boring subject of automobiles.

"Call me Doug, and no, I didn't."

Despite Annabeth's protests that the magazine could wait, Laurel retrieved it from the living room and handed it to Doug.

"Well," he said, turning the pages slowly, taking in each detail, "Isn't this wonderful.
 
What a beautiful apartment.
 
Although I think your mother's talent is wasted on furniture.
 
She should be painting on canvas and selling to galleries."

Laurel and Sally both nodded in approval as he spoke.
 
"You're good at math, huh?" asked Sally.
 
"I'm having this problem in my bookkeeping class."

Doug listened carefully to Sally's problem then explained clearly what she needed to know.

"Oh," she said, "I never looked at it that way.
 
Thanks."

Annabeth sat back in her chair, eating quietly, listening to the conversation which wasn't anything remarkable or even that interesting compared to the witty banter that some families must surely enjoy, but it was so different.
 
Normally on holidays, R.J. monopolized the table talk, and usually he was boasting about some plan that he was about to put into effect while Will sat silently glaring, a disapproving look on his face.
 
Tonight everyone was talking, and it all seemed so harmonious.
 
Doug fit right in and she was glad she'd included him.

Later, her father took Annabeth aside and whispered, "About time you found someone like him.
 
You keep this one."

And Ginger managed to corner her in the kitchen and say, her eyes glowing, "What an excellent sense of humor.
 
He laughed at my dinosaur joke, you heard him.
 
And that beard.
 
So sexy!"

Sally said, "He sure is smart.
 
And so warm and friendly.
 
Thank God you dumped that sleazeball."

Jackson said, "Great dinner.
 
I'm stuffed.
 
And Doug is a great guy.
 
He knows every sports statistic there is."

Laurel whispered, "The way he looks at you.
 
Makes me want a boyfriend."

Each time Annabeth paused, thinking about the comments made by her family and wondering why they were so confused.
 
Doug was her friend, just a friend, well a good friend, but a friend.
 
Later when she saw him to the door, she commented, "You made a lot of conquests tonight.
 
Everyone loved you."

Doug wrapped his arms around Annabeth in a long, warm hug, then loosened his grip slightly, still holding her in his arms and said, "It was nice to be part of a family again."

"Yes, you fit right in."

He hugged her one more time, then said, "Thanks so much for inviting me.
 
It really was wonderful."
 
Then he turned to walk through the door.

"You mean you're leaving without propositioning me?"
 
Annabeth laughed.

Swiftly, Doug turned, pulled her tightly to him, and leaned down, his mouth just inches from her own.
 
"Come home with me Annabeth," he whispered, his warm breath making her lips tingle, "I want you now, say yes, come home with me."

Feeling his mouth so close to hers, his arms so strong around her back, Annabeth's head started to swirl, those old feelings rising up inside her, and she leaned in even more tightly, and parted her lips, ready to kiss Doug, who leaned in toward her, tantalizing her, making her want that kiss more than she thought possible.
 
It was an instant, a space of time so brief, a distance between them so infinitesimal, the electricity unbearable, the magnetic pull impossible to resist, until Doug stood back and grinned wickedly at her.
 
"You were going to give in.
 
I'm good!"

Annabeth's eyes opened wide in pretend shock, her blood still moving a bit too fast, but a smile on her face.
 
"Yeah, Doug, keep thinking that.
 
Don't you wish!"

Doug laughed at her protests, then leaned in and whispered in her ear, "I can have you anytime I want."

"Ha!" Her eyes met his with defiance and good natured humor, and she waved as he walked through the door to his car, then turned around and sank back against the closed front door, pressing her hand to her throat and trying to catch her breath.
 
Oh!
 
He was good!

16

 
"Daddy what were you thinking," whispered Sally to her father as he and Linna walked through the door and into the living room.

"You're plannin' a wedding.
 
She wanted to help.
 
She has great ideas.
 
So much style.
 
You should be glad I brung her."

Not betraying any of her feelings, Annabeth placed on the coffee table a large painted tray containing a carafe of hot fruit punch, some glass mugs, and a platter of cookies.
 
Sally and Jackson sat on the couch, her small hand clenched in his huge one.
 
Next to them sat Linna, holding an enormous three-ring binder of the type used by high school students.
 
In an overstuffed chair, sat R.J., surprisingly sober and dressed in clean clothes.
 
Annabeth sat in a straight chair once she had poured the cranberry-orange punch into the glass mugs.

"Now, don't worry, Daddy, we're not planning anything elaborate," said Sally, looking nervously at each of her parents in turn.
 
It was touching the way Sally always came to her rescue, but surprisingly Annabeth didn't feel so badly to see R.J. or his little girlfriend.

"We just want a simple afternoon wedding," said Jackson.

"Yes, maybe right here in a tent outside, just punch and cake really.
 
Maybe a few hors d'oeuvres.
 
That's really it."

Linna looked around the room, took a breath and smiled, beginning to speak in her usual high-pitched, nasal whine.
 
"I have a lot of wedding information right here."
 
She held up the notebook as both Annabeth's and Sally's eyes widened.
 
"I've wanted a big wedding all my life," she continued, hearing no protests, "And I've been collecting this information since eighth grade."

"We really just want something simple," insisted Sally, "More like a party than some flashy event."
 
Jackson nodded in agreement and squeezed her hand.

"Of course you don't want anything too elaborate.
 
I mean nothing like Di and Charles with all those horses or the quarter-million dollar wedding of Delta Burke and Gerald McRaney."
 
She flipped in the book to a category titled celebrity weddings and showed all present photos and other documentation.