Fruit of All Evil (4 page)

“I don't think you've given me as much jam as is in that basket,” Ian said as he peered at the gift.

“I didn't need to get you to like me. Madeline Forsyth is another story altogether. I had to bring out the big guns. I even snuck in some of my hidden reserve of pumpkin preserves.”

“I shouldn't be so easy, should I?”

“Nah, I like easy.”

Ian hurried around to the passenger side and helped me and my basket out.

I grew amazing strawberries, if I said so myself, but I also grew pumpkins. Pumpkins were an easy crop and gave me the main ingredient for my pumpkin preserves, which were heavenly—if I said so myself. The process for making the pumpkin preserves was labor intensive, though, so I didn't make very much.

Almost everyone who worked at Bailey's purchased (or traded for) the pumpkin preserves for holiday gifts. I'd had a big run on those last December, but I'd kept a dozen or so jars hidden away for emergencies.

If Madeline Forsyth didn't like me after tasting the contents of the gift basket, nothing would work.

“Becca, Ian! I'm so glad you're here!” Linda said as she stood in the open doorway.

“The basket is almost bigger than you. Do you want me to carry it?” Ian asked.

“I'm good, thanks.”

We made our way toward the door. I always had to take a second glance at Linda when she wasn't in her market getup. And tonight was no exception. She looked nothing like the woman who worked at Bailey's, wore pioneer clothing, and sold the most amazing fruit pies in South Carolina.

“You look so grown-up,” I said as I reached around the basket and hugged her.

“Drastic times call for drastic measures.” She laughed.

She wore a simple sleeveless black dress and girl shoes with heels. The farm and market life didn't have much use for such frivolity, but outside the market Linda pulled it off like a pro. Her short blonde curls weren't hidden under a bonnet, but bounced freely and framed her high cheekbones perfectly.

“Ian, long time, no see,” she joked as she hugged him, too.

“You look great, Linda.”

“Thanks. You two, too. Come on in. I'm still standing and all my hair is on my head even though Madeline is late to her own party.”

“She's not here?” I looked around the entryway. The floor was patterned marble and bordered by two walnut stairways that probably led to paradise.

“No, not yet. Levi—the cook—said she left earlier this afternoon. She promised to be back on time, but I suppose it's okay is that she's not here yet. I've had the cousins to myself for a good half hour. It's given me some time to get to know them.”

“Well, she has a lovely house,” I said.

“Yes. I bet that amazing basket is for her.”

“Definitely.”

Linda took the basket and placed it on a table next to the front door. She peered at the contents and said, “Thanks, Becca. This is a very kind gift—she'll appreciate it. She's a battle axe, sure, but she really does have a soft spot. It's rare and unusual to see it, but this is the sort of gift that might bring it out.”

“That's the plan,” I said.

“Come on in and meet everyone. Levi will watch the food and we'll eat soon, even if Madeline doesn't show.”

She tried to make light of Madeline's tardiness, but I knew it bothered her. I didn't think she was worried about her future mother-in-law, but she might feel she was being slighted yet again.

It was a good thing that she and Drew loved each other so much, because Madeline had done her best to fill their relationship with obstacles and strain. Linda insisted that they were handling it, but I often wondered.

I couldn't quite grasp Drew's relationship with his mother. I only knew what Linda told me. At times I thought it was strained, at times nonexistent, and then, at times, I thought they might get along okay. I didn't want to cause more stress for Linda, so I never pushed her too hard for more information. Besides, it was none of my business.

Ian and I shared a raised-eyebrow glance before we followed Linda down a short hall. We had spoken about my concern for Linda, and he supported that concern. We both knew how important it was to never mettle in any couple's relationship even if a friend was involved.

As Linda's Number One, I was going to have to be extra careful. Biting my lip or the insides of my cheeks to keep from speaking was not in my natural skill set. But I'd have to learn.

The hall opened to a large, plush family room that was occupied by Drew and his cousins. The room was furnished with two big couches and lots of well-placed, comfortable-looking chairs. There was a huge television set attached to the wall above the fireplace. Everything was in muted beiges and browns, except for a few purple pillows on the couches. I didn't know what I'd expected, but I was surprised that a room in Madeline's house felt so comfortable.

“Becca, Ian,” Drew said as he caught sight of us. “I didn't hear the door. Sorry.”

“Linda beat us to the punch. She had it open before we could knock,” I replied as I returned Drew's hug.

I liked Drew a lot, but there were moments when I was almost too much in awe of him to completely trust him. When I first met him, I was taken with how perfect he seemed to be. Later, as I learned more about him, I was more and more impressed. But how could one person be put together so perfectly? My concerns had been for naught, because he'd never been anything less than what he appeared to be. But there was always that question in the back of my mind:
Is he for real?

“Well, welcome. Come on in and meet some of my family.”

As we approached, Drew began the introductions.

“Guys, this is Becca Robins, Linda's friend, maid of honor, and stall neighbor at Bailey's, and Ian Cartwright, who also works at Bailey's—makes incredible yard art.”

Friendly greetings were exchanged all around. The cousins looked to be somewhere in their thirties. None of them were as stunning as Drew, but they were still a good-looking bunch.

Alan Cummings, the offspring of Madeline's youngest sister Mary-Margaret, was a blond version of Drew, though he was less buff.

“Maid of honor?” he asked as we shook hands.

“That's me. Best man?”

“That's me. Nice to meet you.”

The other three cousins were siblings, the offspring of Madeline's older sister, Serena. Sally, Mid (so nicknamed because he was the middle one), and Shawn were all dark but didn't look like Drew at all. Sally was petite and round with big hair and lots of makeup. Mid was tall and skinny, and his round glasses and short, disheveled hair reminded me of an English professor I had in college. Shawn was tall like Mid, but he wasn't as thin, and though he was the youngest of the three, he had a receding hairline that made him look older—until he smiled. He was one of those people who transformed into young and playful when they smiled. I liked him immediately.

Linda and Drew had dressed up for the occasion, but the cousins were almost as casual as Ian and I were. I wore some recently purchased slacks, a light blue blouse, and flats. I rarely wore shoes that didn't require socks, so the flats were the most uncomfortable part of my getup,

For a few minutes, the room was filled with chatter and general small talk. I learned that Alan was from Spartanburg and that he was “in between things” at the moment. I was about to ask him more questions when Sally diverted my attention.

“So . . . Becca, right?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me how you got into the farmers' market business.” Sally inspected me closely. We were both short and could look in each other's eyes without either of us having to strain our neck. But she was so close that I had to repress an urge to take a step backward.

“I inherited the land, farm, house, and kitchen/barn from my aunt and uncle . . .” I began.

Little did I know that the word
inherited
would cause such a reaction. Sally's eyes widened as the word left my lips.

“Really? How interesting. Your aunt and uncle? Didn't they have any children?”

“No, just nieces—my sister and me. They took care of us both.” Talking about these things with Sally was uncomfortable. It seemed too important to her, and I immediately regretted that I hadn't lied about the entire matter.

Admiration seeped from Sally's pores. “Well, good for you. What did you two do to make yourselves so charming to them?” She smiled like it hurt.

I shrugged my shoulders. I was ready for the conversation to end, so I looked around for a distraction. Sally seemed to sense my discomfort.

“Indeed,” she said.

“What do you do?” I asked quickly.

“Banking, just like Aunt Madeline,” she replied, admiration lining her voice. “I work at Fuller Bank in Columbia.”

“Impressive,” I said, because I thought that was what she wanted me to say, but she surprised me. She smiled but also blushed a little.

“Thank you, but I have a lot to learn. Aunt Madeline has been . . . well . . .” She was choking up. I had no idea what to do. I recalled what we'd been discussing, and couldn't think of a thing we'd said that would bring someone to tears. I froze, and wished for something to save us from the awkward moment. My wish was soon granted.

“Well, everyone, Levi says we'd better come and eat.” Linda stood in a wide French doorway that led to the dining room.

“Linda, shouldn't we wait for Madeline?” Sally asked after she sniffed away the tears that still shone brightly in her eyes.

Drew spoke up, saving Linda from having to answer.

“You know Madeline.” It wasn't the first time I'd heard him call his mother by her first name. “She could be in the middle of something that will keep her busy late into the night. She'd want us to eat. She wouldn't want the food to get cold.”

“Did someone try to call her?” Sally asked.

“Yes, we've tried. Like I said, she's probably very busy,” Drew replied.

“Well, all right, then. If you think it's the thing to do,” she said to Drew.

“I do.”

Drew directed traffic through the doorway that led to the dining room. It was as large as my front room, dining area, and kitchen combined. The walls were covered in Impressionist-like paintings, but I couldn't be sure if any of them were original. The long table was set with what I would call “special occasion” dishes—white with gold trim—and there were enough goblets and forks to confuse even Miss Manners. Where there weren't dishes or silverware, there was food. Roast beef and seemingly every vegetable on the planet were placed end to end.

“Alan, Becca, we'd like for the two of you to be at either end, please,” Drew said. “I'll sit next to Alan, and Linda will sit next to Becca. Ian, you're on Becca's other side. Mid and Shawn are between Ian and me, and Sally will be seated next to Linda. There, clear as mud?”

We took our places, leaving a seat next to Sally and across from Drew empty. Without Madeline there, the table seemed much heavier on one side than on the other. Sally, who was next to Madeline's chair, glanced at its emptiness longingly. Again, she looked like she might start to cry. She was either upset about something or her emotions were always close to the surface.

Drew seemed to be okay with his mother's continued absence, but I'd often wondered at his ability to hide things that must bother him. I was sure his military training had taught him how to handle the worst situations. Had his training helped him deal with his mother, or did he really care for her enough that things—odd and mean things—she did, didn't bother him as much as they bothered the rest of the world?

When Linda had greeted Ian and me at the front door, she'd mentioned that Madeline had a soft spot. I couldn't imagine it, but I also didn't think Linda would say something like that if she didn't mean it. She'd shared with me that she thought Madeline was intentionally attempting to come between Drew and herself. But they had persevered, and here they were getting married despite whatever had occurred. I hoped Madeline would get there soon. I wanted the opportunity to get to know this well-hidden part of the woman whose reputation made her downright horrifying to me.

“Well, friends and family, thank you for coming this evening,” Drew said. “I hope you all know how important you are to Linda and me. Let's get this dinner started.”

Drew was doing his best to be both gracious and distracting. To me, the nine-hundred-pound elephant in the room, Madeline's empty chair, seemed to throb. But we all played along and passed delicious food around the table and tried to talk about everything but Madeline.

“Ian, what did Drew mean by ‘yard art' when he told us what you do for a living?” Sally asked.

“I create fairly large metal sculptures that move and change with the wind.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Sally said.

“They are amazing,” Drew agreed.

“Thank you,” Ian said modestly. “I enjoy what I do.”

As Ian spoke, I caught a strange look passing between Alan, who was at the other end of the table, and Shawn, whose happy smile was nowhere to be found. Then it was as if Shawn kicked Mid's ankle. Mid looked startled behind his round glasses and then gave his brother a questioning glance.

“Mid, you look like you have a question,” Drew said.

“Oh.” Mid pushed up his glasses and looked perplexed. “I'm sorry. I think Shawn was concerned I wasn't being polite. The roast beef is delicious.” Mid took a big bite and chewed as he smiled. There was something going on between the brothers that would have made Allison want to find a way to ease everyone over the moment. My social graces weren't as refined, and I just wanted to know more about whatever was causing the strain.