At First Sight (3 page)

“That’s comforting.”

“You get used to it.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, maybe there is one thing I could tell you.”

“What’s that?”

“Two things, actually. Number one, don’t take it personally if she gets angry. We all get angry, so don’t let it get to you.”

“And number two?”

“Call your mother. A lot. She’s been crying every day since she found out you were moving. And don’t pick up one of those southern accents, either. She wouldn’t tell you this, but she had trouble understanding Lexie sometimes.”

Jeremy laughed. “I promise.”

“It wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jeremy asked

Hours later, they were on the way back to the Plaza. With his apartment in disarray, Jeremy had decided to splurge on a hotel room their last night in town.

“It was wonderful. You’ve got a special family. I can see why you didn’t want to move away.”

“I’ll still see them quite a bit, whenever I have to check in at the magazine.”

She nodded. As they headed into the city, she stared at the skyscrapers and the traffic, marveling at how large and busy everything seemed. Though she’d lived in New York City before, she’d forgotten the crowds, the massive height of the buildings, the noise. So different from where they would live now, another world entirely. The entire population of Boone Creek was probably less than the number of people on a single city block.

“Are you going to miss the city?”

He gazed out the window before answering. “A little,” he admitted. “But everything I’ve ever wanted is down south.”

And after one final, wonderful night at the Plaza, they began their new life.

At First Sight

Three

The following morning, as prisms of light began poking through the opening between the drapes, Jeremy’s eyes fluttered open. Lexie was asleep on her back with her dark hair splayed over the pillow. Beyond the window, he could hear the faint sounds of the early-morning traffic in New York: the honking of horns and the rise and fall of truck engines as they rolled down Fifth Avenue.

In his opinion, he shouldn’t have been able to hear anything. Lord knows it had cost him a small fortune to stay in this particular suite, and he had assumed it would have soundproof windows. Still, he wasn’t complaining. Lexie had loved everything about the place: the high ceilings and classic wainscoting, the formality of the server who had brought them chocolate-covered strawberries and the apple cider they’d substituted for champagne, the heavy robe and comfortable slippers, the softness of the bed. All of it.

Touching her hair gently, he thought her beautiful as she lay beside him, and he couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when he realized she wasn’t wearing the ugly green mask he’d briefly imagined the day before. Even better, she didn’t wear curlers or ugly pajamas, either, nor did she dillydally for half an hour in the bathroom as some women were prone to do. Before crawling into bed, she’d only washed her face and run a brush through her hair, and then she was snuggling beside him, just the way he liked it.

See, he did know her, despite what Alvin said. Granted, not everything yet, but there was time for that. He’d learn about her, and she’d learn about him, and little by little they’d settle into their own routine. Oh, he knew there were going to be some surprises-there always were-but it went with the territory of being a couple. In time, she’d get to know the real Jeremy, the Jeremy unburdened by the endless need to impress. Around her, he could be himself, someone who occasionally lounged around in sweats or ate Doritos in front of the television.

He clasped his hands behind his head, feeling suddenly content. She would love the real him.

Wouldn’t she?

He frowned, wondering suddenly if she knew what she was getting into. Knowing the real him might not be such a good idea, he realized. Not that he viewed himself as bad or unworthy, but like everyone, he had . . . quirks that might take her some time to get used to. She was going to learn, for instance, that he always left the seat on the toilet up. He always had and always would, but what if it was a problem for her? It was a big problem for one of his ex-girlfriends, he remembered. And what was she going to think about the fact that, as a general rule, he was far more concerned with how the Knicks were doing than anything having to do with the latest drought in Africa? Or that-as long as it seemed okay-he’d sometimes been known to eat food that had fallen on the floor? That was the real him, but what if she wasn’t too happy about it? What if she considered them not quirks, but actual flaws in his character? And what about-

“What are you thinking?” Lexie’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “You look like you just swallowed a bug.”

He noticed that she was staring at him.

“I’m not perfect, you know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m just telling you right up front that I’ve got flaws.”

She seemed amused. “Really? And I thought you could walk on water.”

“I’m serious. I just think you should know what you’re getting into before we get married.”

“In case I want to back out?”

“Exactly. I have quirks.”

“Like what?”

He thought about it, deciding it might be best if he started small.

“I leave the water faucet running when I brush my teeth. I don’t know why, I just do. I don’t know if I can change.”

Trying to maintain a serious expression, she nodded. “I think I can handle that.”

“And sometimes-just so you know-I stand in front of the refrigerator with the door open for a long time while I try to figure out what I want to eat. I know I’m letting the cold air out, but I can’t help it. It’s who I am.”

She nodded again, still amused. “I understand. Anything else?”

He shrugged. “I don’t eat broken cookies. If all that’s left in the bag are broken cookies, I just throw the bag out. I know it’s a waste, but I’ve always been that way. They taste different.”

“Mmm,” she said. “It’ll be tough, but I suppose I can live with that.”

He pursed his lips, wondering whether he should mention the toilet bowl seat. Knowing it was a hot-button issue with some women, he decided to pass for the time being.

“Are you okay with all this?”

“I suppose I have to be.”

“Really?”

“Positive.”

“What if I told you I cut my toenails in bed?”

“Don’t push it, buster.”

He grinned, pulling her closer. “You love me even if I’m not perfect?”

“Of course I do.”

Amazing, he thought.

As Lexie and Jeremy approached Boone Creek, just as the first stars were appearing in the sky, Jeremy’s first thought was that the place hadn’t changed a bit. Not that he’d expected it to; as far as he could tell, things around here hadn’t changed in the last hundred years. Or maybe three hundred, for that matter. Since they’d left the airport in Raleigh, the view on either side of the highway had been one long version of the movie Groundhog Day. Ramshackle farmhouses, barren fields, decaying tobacco barns, stands of trees . . . mile after mile. Sure, they’d passed through the occasional town, but even those had been indistinguishable, unless someone actually knew the difference between Hardee’s and Bojangles.

But hey, with Lexie beside him, the drive hadn’t been half-bad. She’d been in a good mood all day, and as they neared her home-change that, he thought suddenly: their home-she’d become even more cheerful. They’d spent the last couple of hours rehashing their trip to New York, but he couldn’t mistake her expression of contentment as they crossed the Pamlico River and reached the final leg of their journey.

The first time he’d been here, Jeremy remembered, he’d barely been able to find the place. The only turn leading toward downtown was located off the highway, so he’d missed the nearest exit and had to pull his car over to check the map. But once he’d turned onto Main Street, he’d been charmed.

In the car, Jeremy shook his head, revising his opinion. He was thinking of Lexie, not the town. The town, while quaint in the way that all small towns were, was anything but charming. At first glance, anyway. He remembered thinking on his first visit here that the town seemed to be slowly rusting away. Downtown occupied only a few short blocks on which too many businesses were boarded up, and decaying storefronts were slowly being stripped of their paint, no doubt helped by the gusts of moving vans headed out of town. Boone Creek, once a thriving town, had been struggling ever since the phosphorus mine and textile mill closed, and there were more than a few times when Jeremy wondered whether the town would survive.

The jury was still out on that one, he concluded. But if this was where Lexie wanted to be, then that was enough. Besides, once you got beyond the “soon to be a ghost town” feel of the place, the town was picturesque, in a southern, Spanish-moss-hanging-from-tree-limbs kind of way. At the confluence of Boone Creek and the Pamlico River was a boardwalk where one could watch the sailboats cruising along the water, and according to the Chamber of Commerce, in the spring the azaleas and dogwoods planted throughout the downtown “exploded in a cacophony of color that was rivaled only by the ocean sunset of autumn leaves come every October,” whatever that meant. Even so, it was the people who made the place special, or so Lexie swore. Like many small-town dwellers, she viewed the people who lived here as her family. What Jeremy kept to himself was the observation that “family” often included a couple of crazy aunts and uncles, and this town was no different. People here gave the term character an entirely new meaning.

Jeremy drove past the Lookilu Tavern-the local after-work hangout-the pizza place, and the barbershop; around the corner, he knew, was a massive gothic structure that served as the county library, where Lexie worked. As they edged down the street toward Herbs, the restaurant that Doris, Lexie’s grandmother, owned, Lexie sat up straighter. Ironically, Doris had been the reason Jeremy had come to this town in the first place. As the resident town psychic, she was definitely one of the aforementioned “characters.”

Even from a distance, Jeremy could see the lights blazing from inside Herbs. Once a Victorian home, it seemed to dominate the end of the block. Strangely, cars were parked up and down the street.

“I thought Herbs was only open for breakfast and lunch.”

“It is.”

Remembering the little “get-together” the mayor had thrown in his honor on his previous visit-which had included almost everyone in the county, it seemed-Jeremy stiffened behind the wheel. “Don’t tell me they’re waiting for us.”

She laughed. “No, believe it or not, the world doesn’t revolve around us. It’s the third Monday of the month.”

“And that means?”

“It’s the town council meeting. And after that, they play bingo.”

Jeremy blinked. “Bingo?”

She nodded. “That’s how they get people to come to the meetings.”

“Ah,” he said, thinking, Don’t pass judgment. It’s just a different world, that’s all. Who cares if no one you know has actually ever played bingo?

Noticing his expression, she smiled. “Don’t knock it. Can’t you see all the cars? Nobody ever came before they started playing bingo. They offer prizes and everything.”

“Let me guess. It was Mayor Gherkin’s idea?”

She laughed. “Who else?”

Mayor Gherkin was seated toward the rear of the building, wedged behind two tables that had been pushed together. On either side were two people Jeremy recognized as members of the town council; one was an emaciated lawyer, the other a portly physician. At the corner of the table was Jed, who sat with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. The largest man Jeremy had ever seen, Jed had a face that was mostly hidden by a beard and a wild mane of hair that made Jeremy think of a woolly mammoth. It was fitting, Jeremy supposed, for not only was Jed the proprietor of Greenleaf Cottages-the only lodging in town-but he also served as the local taxidermist. For a week, Jeremy had slept in a room at Greenleaf surrounded by the stuffed and mounted versions of a variety of creatures known in this part of the world.

It was standing room only; people were crammed around tables with bingo cards spread out before them, frantically stamping the appropriate boxes as Gherkin spoke into the microphone. A cloud of cigarette smoke hung like fog, despite the whirring fans above. Most of the people were clad in overalls, plaid shirts, and NASCAR ball caps, and it seemed to Jeremy that they’d pulled their outfits from the same bin at the local five-and-dime. Dressed head to toe in black-the preferred wardrobe of New Yorkers-Jeremy had the strange sense that he suddenly knew how Johnny Cash must have felt when he stood onstage crooning country-western songs at the county fair.

Above the roar, Jeremy could barely hear the mayor speaking into the microphone. “B-11 . . . N-26 . . .”

With every number called, the crowd grew louder. Those who weren’t lucky enough to have a table were propping the cards against the windowsills and walls; baskets of hush puppies were being mowed through as if the townsfolk needed grease to calm their nerves in their rabid quest for victory. Lexie and Jeremy squeezed their way through the crowd and caught a glimpse of Doris loading more baskets of hush puppies onto a tray. Off to the side, Rachel, the restaurant’s rather flirtatious waitress, waved away the cigarette smoke. Unlike New York City, Boone Creek did not frown upon smoking-in fact, it seemed to be almost as popular as the bingo game itself.

“Are those wedding bells I hear?” Jeremy heard the mayor intone. Suddenly, the bingo-number calling stopped, and the only audible sound came from the whirring fans. Every face in the restaurant had turned to stare at Lexie and Jeremy. Jeremy had never seen so many cigarettes dangling from lips in his entire life. Then, remembering what people did around here, he nodded and waved.

People nodded and waved back.

“Out of the way . . . coming through . . . ,” Jeremy heard Doris call out. There were rustles of movement as people began pressing into one another, making way, and Doris appeared in front of them. She immediately pulled Lexie into her arms.

When Doris released her, she looked from Lexie to Jeremy and back again. From the corner of his eye, Jeremy noticed the crowd doing the same thing, as if they were part of the reunion as well. Which, considering their proximity, they probably were.

“Well, I’ll be,” Doris pronounced. Born and bred in the South, she sounded as if she were pronouncing the letters L-I-B. “I didn’t expect you home until a little later.”

Lexie nodded toward Jeremy. “You can thank lead-foot here. He regards the speed limit as more of a guideline than an actual rule.”