The Man She Married (12 page)

Liza stopped by Miss Scarlett’s Boudoir to see Maizie the next afternoon. “Do you have time to go for coffee?”

Considering folks weren’t knocking down the door to spend money Maizie could easily get away.

“Let me tell PJ where I’m going and grab my purse. Check out the new wool slacks. You’d look absolutely darling in them.”

“Do you think I could accessorize them with my pearls?”

“Don’t you think that would be a mite pretentious?” Maizie asked with a grin.

“Oh, I don’t know. Of course I’d have to also wear my tiara.”

Maizie’s reign as beauty pageant royalty had left her ripe for untold teasing.

“Screw you. Let’s get going.”

It wasn’t until they were walking into the bakery that Liza got to the heart of the matter. “Zack told me you really did have an intruder. Do you have any idea who it might be?”

“Not a clue. Carol and Tim said they saw someone in the woods behind my house. They thought he might be a transient. But in that case, wouldn’t he be rummaging through the food rather than my personal things? Though it would explain the chips and beer.”

“That sounds logical to me. Can you think of anyone else?”

“Afraid not.”

Liza shook her head. “Please, please tell me you’re taking precautions.”

“I’m being as careful as possible.” Maizie patted her purse. “I have my pepper spray with me at all times. Zack and Clay are planning to go through the house with a fine-tooth comb. Hopefully they’ll be able to secure the place.”

“That’s good. You should get an alarm system. I got mine when I was having problems with that homicidal fruitcake and it gave me such peace of mind.”

Who could forget the lunatic county council person who had targeted both Liza and Zack?

“Zack has all the information you’d need.”

“If I know Clay Walker—and I certainly do—he’ll have one ordered before I get home tonight,” Maizie said, then paused. “Do you think I should get some protection that’s more…” She shrugged, trying to come up with a PC description of a .44 Dirty Harry–type Magnum. “Shall we say, more lethal than a can of pepper spray.”

“Do you know how to shoot?” Liza asked, not bothering to disguise her chuckle.

“No.”

“Then leave that to the professionals.”

“I certainly hope you’re not talking about Deputy Bubba.”

Liza almost gagged on her chocolate-frosted doughnut. “No, definitely not Bubba.”

Maizie didn’t tell Liza that she was seriously considering asking Daddy if she could borrow his shotgun. He always said if you aimed that sucker anywhere near a bad guy, you could do some major damage. “So you wouldn’t trust me with a gun, huh?”

“That’s a trick question if I ever heard one, and I’m too smart to answer. Here, share my goodie.” Liza shoved her half-eaten pastry across the table.

M
AIZIE WAS STILL PONDERING
security options when Clay walked in the door. She’d cooked him a homemade meal, not that she was buttering him up or anything like that. Considering he hadn’t said a word about Trip, she figured good food couldn’t hurt.

After he’d stuffed himself on meat loaf, scalloped potatoes and fresh green beans, Maizie popped the question, and she wasn’t talking about marriage.

“I’m considering asking Daddy for one of his guns. We could keep it in the bedroom. What do you think?”

C
LAY THOUGHT
M
AIZIE WOULD
be a menace with any sort of weapon, but he wasn’t about to say so. He valued his body parts too much. “I’ve made an appointment to get a security system installed.”

“Do they really work?”

“Zack thinks so. He said the company I chose is the best around.”

Maizie didn’t respond, but that didn’t necessarily mean she agreed. Clay had been married long enough to know that silence wasn’t the same as acceptance. So
on to less controversial subject. “How would you like to go for a hayride?”

“A hayride, as in sitting on a bale of hay in a wagon and riding around in the cold?” Maizie asked.

When she put it that way, it did sound lame. But in a moment of weakness at church that Sunday, Clay had told the preacher they’d chaperone the annual Halloween hayride, so it was time for the spin doctor to work his magic.

“It’ll be fun. We haven’t been on a hayride since we were in the eighth grade.”

“Do you think we can neck?”

“With thirty eleven-year-olds watching, I don’t think so.”

Snuggling, perhaps—actual kissing, not likely. That was best reserved for a soft bed, Egyptian cotton sheets and a warm, willing woman—even if she was the biggest ditz in town.

Clay was still having a hard time coming to grips with her confession. Jealous? Of the pretty-boy tennis pro? Was she kidding? He’d lived with guys ogling her throughout their entire marriage. Sure, the scene at the country club had sent him into a tizzy. Okay, to be completely honest, he’d been so jealous he couldn’t see straight. But when he really thought about it, he knew their marriage was rock solid. Cheating wasn’t in the cards for either of them.

Actually he thought it was sort of funny but he wasn’t about to let Maizie in on that little secret. Let her sweat. That way he’d be getting some good food out of the deal.

The next day, Maizie was strolling down the toilet paper aisle at the Piggly Wiggly when the hair on the back of her neck stood straight up. She could feel someone was watching her, and swear to God if she caught the jerk she’d bitch-slap him into the next county.

“Let’s see,” she said loud enough to be heard, “which do I want? The one-ply Piggly Wiggly special or the two-ply softest paper in the world.” She picked up a six pack of each and looked back and forth in an amazingly good parody of a toilet paper commercial. She used the opportunity to check out her surroundings. At one end of the aisle she caught a fleeting glimpse of someone with a cart sneaking out of sight.

That did it! If her suspicion was right, and that dirty, low-down lingerie fondler had followed her to the Piggly Wiggly, he was going to be hurtin’ for certain. So, with that thought in mind she went on the hunt, up one aisle and down the other, moving with the speed and grace of a cheetah. Out of the way, grannies, the Formula One queen of shopping carts was on the prowl.

No matter how fast she was, the creep was quicker. Maizie would whip around the corner and catch only a momentary impression of a dark-haired man before he disappeared like a puff of smoke. She actually never saw his face, darn it all. However, when she turned onto the produce aisle she hit pay dirt. He had the audacity to be strolling through the bananas—strolling!

“Hey, you!” she yelled, not immediately realizing she’d made her first big mistake.

Without turning to face her, the man ducked behind a huge display of pumpkins. Aha! He was trapped like a rat in a maze. Maizie put her cart in gear and hit the gas—figuratively, that is.

“Ma’am! Ma’am!” The pimply faced stock boy looked as if he’d rather face a firing squad than confront her, but he reached out and grabbed her buggy as she raced by.

“Ma’am,” he panted. “What are you doing?”

The overweight manager came running around the corner. “You’re disrupting the entire grocery store. We’ve had so many complaints I can’t count them all. I suggest you leave and not come back.”

Maizie was
banned
from the Piggly Wiggly. Good golly, Miss Molly, Mama was gonna be apoplectic.

S
OMETIMES IT WAS BETTER
to break bad news in person. And that was exactly why Maizie had invited Mama, Liza and Kenni to lunch. It would be easier to spill her guts once, rather than doing it over and over again.

Mama was the first to arrive at the tearoom. As usual, she was wearing pearls and a tasteful St. John’s outfit.

Before Eleanor sat down she patted Maizie’s head. “You’re looking a little…peaked.”

That was Mama-speak for she looked like something the cat barfed up. Maizie firmly believed that appearances counted, but this time no amount of mascara was going to make any difference. A crazy person was stalking her, and even worse, she’d made a fool of herself in the grocery store.

Maizie put her head in her hands. In the annals of Westerfield history no one had ever been excluded from a retail establishment—that is until she lost her mind and rampaged through the Piggly Wiggly.

“I suppose you’ve heard.”

Of course Mama had, not much got by her, especially when it involved her family.

Liza breezed in and confirmed the worst. “Ohmigod, I just heard the news from Ms. Hightower. Would you like me to sue the Piggly Wiggly?”

Maizie was trying to formulate a pithy comeback when the waitress strolled up and set a plate of chocolate cake topped with whipped cream and chocolate syrup in front of her.

“Miss Violet said you could use this.” She pulled a notepad out of her apron and spoke to Mama. “What can I get for you ladies?”

Maizie’s initial thought was a new identity, although cake might provide at least temporary relief. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, she picked up a fork and dug in.

Kenni was the last to appear, and true to form she wasn’t stingy with her affection. The first thing she did
was give Maizie a big hug. Considering their height difference, she didn’t have to lean down too far.

“Oh, honey. What did you plan to do with him if you caught him?”

Yep, she’d heard, too. Maizie licked chocolate syrup off her lower lip. “I was going to pummel him within an inch of his life and then stuff him in my grocery cart. After that I thought I’d take him to the police station.”

Kenni and Liza both broke into laughter. Mama’s mirth was a bit more subdued. What would you expect from a charter member of the Magnolia Bluff’s Ladies’ Book Club?

“Seriously, how could you be so positive it was the guy who broke into your house?” Leave it to Liza to ask the hard question.

“I don’t know,” Maizie admitted. “I just knew someone was watching me, and when I saw him I knew deep down in my gut he was the guy. Even though he was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses there was something familiar about him. He had to be the guy I caught on my porch.”

“Did you ever consider he might’ve had a weapon?” Liza had always been the practical twin.

The answer was a resounding no. At the time Maizie had been running on adrenaline. She hadn’t thought much past the delight of cramming him into her cart.

“I suppose I would’ve been in a mess of trouble,” she admitted.

“I’m afraid you’re right,” Liza concurred.

“Maizie girl, please promise you won’t pull a stunt like that again.”

Mama looked vulnerable—and that was truly amazing.

W
HEN
M
AIZIE GOT HOME
there were two step vans parked out front, both bearing signs indicating they belonged to Atlanta’s Best Alarms. Men with tool belts were scurrying about.

Maizie had nearly made it through the gauntlet of workers when Clay pulled into the drive. “I suppose you heard about the brouhaha in the produce aisle,” she stated as he climbed out of the truck. Of course he had. Otherwise there wouldn’t be an army of handymen wiring every door and window in the house. Clay had probably paid a premium for a rush job.

“It’s the talk of the town.” Clay held up a sack from the Piggly Wiggly delicatessen and walked with her into the kitchen. “I brought dinner.” He had the gall to laugh. “I can still go to the grocery store.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It is to me,” he said with another chuckle.

Clay put the sack on the table and took her in his arms. “Seriously, I want you to promise me that if you see this nut again you’ll call Zack.”

That was a no-brainer. The Piggly Wiggly fiasco had been a huge mistake.

“Okay, I promise.”

“The guys are going to work until they finish. We’re not spending another night in this house without an alarm.”

Maizie couldn’t fault his reasoning. After everything that had happened, an alarm sounded like a fantastic idea.

“Did you talk to Zack?” Maizie grabbed a bottle of iced tea from one of the bags and went out to the front porch.

Clay joined her on the swing. “I did, and he’s as frustrated as we are.”

“There has to be something else we can do, or Zack can do, or God can do.”

“I’m afraid not, at least not for us mortals. I don’t think I can speak for God.” Clay chuckled. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He pulled Maizie onto his lap and tucked her head under his chin. “If he wants to get to you, he’s gonna have to go through me.”

“Don’t say that!”

Clay tilted her chin to look her in the eye. “It’s true.”

The rest of the week was quiet—no intruders, no strange cars lurking around, no disturbed underwear drawer, absolutely nothing. That was just fine. Maizie was fed up with the drama.

The weekend and the dreaded hayride came about much faster than expected. Maizie didn’t mind wearing a Halloween costume. That wasn’t the problem. Her funk had more to do with the overall state of her marriage.

Yes, it was much improved, but even though Clay swore he’d protect her with his life, he hadn’t returned to their bed. And darn it, she was horny as all heck!

Then there was the matter of her stalker. Now that they had an alarm she was fairly confident he couldn’t paw through her Victoria’s Secret goodies. However, she still had the feeling someone was watching her. She’d shared that concern with Clay but there wasn’t much more he could do. He was already glued to her hip. So really, what could happen to her with him around all the time?

Occasionally, Maizie had seen the same car driving
up and down the street in front of the Boudoir. She forced herself not to worry about it. After all, she couldn’t report some forgetful little old lady making repeated trips to the drugstore.

Darn, this situation made her mad. Magnolia Bluffs had always been a safe place. A community where you could raise your kids, and live your life and grow old without constantly thinking about crime. It wasn’t necessary to lock your doors unless you wanted to teach your husband a lesson. You didn’t have to worry about walking down the street alone, and you certainly didn’t have to wire your house like Fort Knox. The good times, however, were apparently in the past.

“What are you going to do for a costume?” PJ asked as they stocked the racks the afternoon before the hayride. She’d been privy to Maizie’s minor angst concerning the kid party.

“I can’t use my Marilyn Monroe outfit. It’s too racy. And I don’t think the witch costume will go over well with the preacher. A couple of folks in the church have this thing about witchcraft and Satan. So I’m stuck.”

“You guys could team up. How about doing Laurel and Hardy or Annie Oakley and Wild Bill Hickok?”

Maizie briefly considered PJ’s suggestions before dismissing both ideas. “That’s too much work. I need something quick and easy.”

“Hmm, quick and easy. Let me think.” PJ put her finger on her cheek as though that would help the ideas come.

And that’s how Clay and Maizie ended up going to the party dressed as Casper the Friendly Ghost and his friend Casperette. You couldn’t get much easier than cutting eye holes into a couple of sheets.

“I feel like an unmade bed,” Clay griped as he tried to drink hot cider without soaking his costume.

“Don’t complain to me. The hayride wasn’t my idea.” Although she’d been far from enthusiastic about it in the beginning, Maizie was having fun.

What was it about a Halloween party that appealed to her inner kid? She couldn’t decide whether it was the caramel apples, the popcorn balls or the sugar cookies iced like pumpkins that excited her. Or perhaps it was the children’s exuberance that made it so much fun.

The party was delightful. The hayride was…well…not so much. Thanks to a cold front the temperature had dropped below freezing. It gave new meaning to the phrase putting the frost on the pumpkin—and the tip of her nose.

“I feel like the Michelin Man,” Maizie complained. She was wearing a down parka under her Casperette sheet. “And my feet are freezing.”

“Let’s get cozy.” Clay drew her into his warmth.

“That feels good.” Maizie savored not only his body heat but also his closeness. “I suppose kissing is still out, huh?”

Clay gave her the lopsided grin she loved so much. “’Fraid so. We have a bunch of little eyes on us.” He indicated the assembled group of eleven-year-olds.

“Can you imagine how fast that would hit the grapevine?” Clay ratcheted his smile up a notch.

Chaperones necking on a church hayride—yep, that would definitely be the talk of the town.

B
Y
S
UNDAY AFTERNOON
Maizie was still smarting over the fact that nothing had happened even after they got
home. She understood Clay’s logic about chaperone decorum, truly she did, but how could he stand in the front hall and kiss her senseless, and then calmly stroll to Hannah’s bedroom, leaving her alone and stewing.

And speaking of stew, post-church lunch at Mama’s was a semi-mandatory appearance, not that Maizie usually minded. Who could resist meat that could melt in your mouth, butter beans, homemade yeast rolls and bacon spinach salad? And don’t forget the chocolate meringue pie. It was to die for.

Liza, Maizie and Mama were in the sunroom having a glass of sweet tea while the guys were engrossed in a Falcons football game.

“How was the hayride?” Mama asked.

“Cold.”

“Cold? You mean you didn’t get all cuddled up with your honey?” Liza asked.

Maizie threw a napkin at her twin. “Not so you could tell.”

“Girls, girls. Swear to goodness, I’m not sure you two are ever going to grow up.” Mama tempered her criticism with an affectionate smile that quickly turned somber. “Let’s talk about your Piggly Wiggly encounter. Have you seen the guy lately?”

“No, but I keep looking.” Maizie ran her fingers through her hair. “Every once in a while I find myself jumping at my own shadow.”

“I still can’t believe you chased him through the grocery store,” Eleanor said. “Heavens to Betsy, you could have been hurt. What
am
I going to do with you?”

Liza jabbed her sister. “Yeah, what
is
she going to do with you?” This was a familiar refrain from Mama.
The year before Liza had been pursued by a serial killer.

“At least this guy is only fondling my panties, he’s not shooting at me,” Maizie retorted, then laughed thinking about a grown man seeking refuge behind a stack of pumpkins. “You really should’ve seen me with that cart. I could qualify for NASCAR.”

“Believe me, I heard all about it.” Mama fanned herself. “That was so dangerous.”

At the time Maizie hadn’t considered the consequences of confronting her stalker. The dude had to be crazy. Otherwise, why would he be pawing through her panties? So why hadn’t she dialed 911 instead of racing through the canned goods like Dale Earnhardt Jr.?

Maizie grabbed her mom’s hand. “I won’t do anything like that again, I promise.” She crossed her heart, and this time she really meant it. But truth be told, she’d give a hundred bucks for just five minutes with the idiot who was making her life a nightmare. Before she got through with him, he’d be crying uncle. Damned straight, he would.

Maizie was still contemplating the possibilities when Clay sat down next to her on the chintz couch.

“Is the game over?”

“Nope, it’s halftime.” Clay put his arm around Maizie. “I need to ask Liza for a favor.”

“You name it and you’ve got it.” Liza was apparently in an agreeable mood.

“Harvey just called. He was supposed to go to Savannah to meet with a new client but Sarah ended up in the hospital.”

“She’s in the hospital? What happened?” Maizie asked quickly. Sarah was one of her favorite people.

“She had to have emergency gallbladder surgery. Harvey said she’s going to be fine. The doctors want to keep her a couple of days so he has to stay home with the kids.”

It took a moment for the realization to dawn. Clay had to go to Savannah. “You’re leaving town?”

“I won’t be gone long.” He turned his attention back to Liza. “That’s the favor I’d like to ask. Would you stay with Maizie until I get back? Zack said he’ll be working nights, but he’ll check in on you two when he can.”

“Count me in. We’ll have a slumber party. Right, sis?” Liza punched Maizie on the arm in a lifelong gesture of affection. “When do you leave?” she asked.

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Hey, Maze. What are you making me for dinner?”

Maizie threw a pillow at her sister. “Haven’t you heard I’ve been banned from our purveyor of fine groceries? What do you suppose they have at the Stop and Shop?” she asked sweetly. “We can always have Cheetos and Dr Pepper.”

“Fine. I’ll bring dinner,” Liza said with a grin.