The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love (32 page)

Esther shook her head. “I feel as if I’m in a pit, and I have no idea how to climb out of it.” As difficult as it would be to leave her home, she was ready to make the transition. This long, slow parting was worse than a clean, quick break.

“Have you considered lowering the price?”

Esther shook her head. “Not yet. Maybe in the spring if this goes on that long.”

“It will sell soon,” he said with calm assurance. “Then what will you do? What’s next?”

Esther took a moment to slice off a bite of the delicious filet. She chewed thoughtfully and finally said, “I’ll move to my condo at the lake. Beyond that, I have no idea.”

Brody laughed. “Well, at least you’ve given your lack of plans a lot of thought.”

Esther laughed, too, in spite of everything. He was good at making her see the humor in her difficulties.

“If you could do anything in the world, what would you do?” he asked. “No limits. Whatever your heart desired.”

“No limits?” She’d never asked herself that before.

“Would you stay in Sweetgum?”

Esther nodded. “I was born and raised here. I’ve lived here most of my life.” Unexpectedly, a small sob rose in her throat. It wasn’t the first time grief had surprised her. She took a deep breath so she wouldn’t cry. “I guess I never envisioned anything but doing what I’ve always done. Growing old with Frank. Doing my clubs. Spoiling my grandchildren.”

“You can still do two of those three.”

Esther shook her head. “Not without money.” And then she was sorry she’d brought up the subject. She didn’t want to talk about it.

Brody took a sip of his iced tea. “If you could try something new, what would it be? What are you passionate about?”

“Passionate?” Esther had no idea. She never thought of herself or her life in those terms. Duty, social standing, family—those were the things she had always known. She shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“What’s your favorite thing to do?”

“Shop, of course.” She smiled with more than a touch of self-deprecation. “I’m very good at that.”

“So why don’t you try the flip side of the coin?” Brody leaned back in his chair. “Why not open a store?”

“In Sweetgum? I’d be broke in six months.”

“Not necessarily.”

“How do you know that?”

Brody looked away, as if considering something, and then turned his attention back to her. “If I tell you something, do you promise to keep it confidential?”

Esther couldn’t imagine what he could possibly tell her that would need to be shrouded in secrecy. “Yes. Of course.”

“It’s about the lake.”

“The lake? What about it?” The ancient boat slips and even older clubhouse at Sweetgum Lake sat below the small condo development where Esther would live once her house sold.

“It’s going to be redeveloped by some investors from Memphis. Upgrades to everything. New condos and lake cottages, retail, restaurants, the works.” He put both hands palm down on
the table. “It’s going to be massive, Esther. And it’s going to bring a lot of business to Sweetgum.”

“Surely we would have heard about that. How do you know all this anyway?”

“Because my friend James is behind it all.”

“The one you thought might buy my house?”

“Yes.”

“But when—”

“They’re going to announce it publicly in a few months.” He stood and picked up their plates. “The influx of people will bring new life to Sweetgum and a lot of money to business owners.”

“Oh.”

“So if you decided to go into some kind of business for yourself now would be the time.”

“I can’t. Not until the house sells.”

“You could borrow against the equity in your home.”

She suddenly found it very hard to breathe as panic spread through her. How could she possibly run her own business? She’d helped Frank from time to time with some aspects of his practice, but she was by no means well versed in things like inventory and accounting and payroll.

“I couldn’t—”

“Your own clothing store. That’s what you need.”

“Sweetgum already has one.” And she knew Camille struggled every month to balance the books. “Maxine’s, on the square. My friend Camille runs it.”

Brody scraped the plates and rinsed them before placing them in the dishwasher. They’d gotten so comfortable with this routine—Esther cooking and Brody cleaning up—that she hardly noticed it anymore. “Maybe you should offer to buy her out,” he said.

“But what would Camille do?”

Leave Sweetgum.
The answer popped into Esther’s head immediately. The younger woman had been waiting for years to get out of her hometown, and now that Nancy St. Clair had passed away, Camille was free to go.

Brody poured them both a cup of decaf coffee from the waiting pot. He put sugar in his, sweetener in hers, and then brought the cups to the table. This time he took the seat next to her instead of across the table.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I was thinking about Camille. She’s always wanted to get out of Sweetgum. She never got to go to college because her mother fell ill.”

“Maybe this is an opportunity for both of you.”

To her surprise, Esther found herself nodding. “Maybe it is.”

Then reality came flooding back. She had no business borrowing money against her house for such a risky venture. Habit and instinct told her she needed to hoard every penny she could find. Now that Frank was gone, she was a widow. Alone. But the thought of a miserly, diminished existence depressed her more than the idea of taking a risk scared her.

“I don’t know,” she said, and Brody let the subject drop.

But the seed had been planted, and Esther couldn’t quite put it out of her mind.

Maria couldn’t figure out why James Delevan kept turning up—at the five-and-dime, at Tallulah’s, even at church. She also couldn’t figure out why he was still in Sweetgum. Since Christmas, she had seen him at least two or three times a week. Once, she’d even gone upstairs to find him drinking coffee with her mother.

Maria couldn’t understand it. From the first, he’d made his contempt for her family clear. But now he didn’t seem contemptuous at all. He was civil, polite. But why?

When she posed this question to Daphne, her sister only smiled.

“Surely Evan’s told you what’s going on?” Maria pressed. The only person turning up at the five-and-dime on a more regular basis than James Delevan was Evan Baxter. After that night at the movies, he’d disappeared, but not long ago he’d shown up at the five-and-dime with an apology and a dinner invitation for Daphne.

“Maybe he just likes the company,” Daphne said evasively.

Friday evening, a week before the next meeting of the Knit Lit Society, Maria found herself closing up the store alone. Thankfully, business had been brisk that day, but it meant extra
time dealing with the night deposit and balancing the register. By the time she finished and had the bank bag tucked under her arm, it was close to eight o’clock.

She let herself out of the store, locked the door behind her, and turned her steps toward the bank down the street, past Tallulah’s Café and the post office.

“Would you like some company?”

The male voice, coming out of the darkness, startled her, and she gripped the bank bag with her free hand. Then the speaker materialized under the streetlight. James Delevan.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she snapped and then bit her lip. “Sorry. But you scared me.”

He stepped closer. Too close, really. Every nerve stood on end, not from fright but from her own unmanageable feelings. Feelings she’d not dared admit anywhere but the privacy of her own thoughts. She was far too old to play the fairy-tale princess in need of rescuing, and James was far too stiff and distant to be anyone’s idea of Prince Charming.

“I didn’t mean to alarm you.” His eyes were dark and unreadable. He glanced at the zippered vinyl bag pressed to her side. “Are you headed to the bank?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like me to walk with you?”

She nodded, not sure she trusted her voice.

He took her elbow, a proprietary gesture that should have irritated her. She was a grown woman, for heaven’s sake. She’d
been walking the sidewalks of Sweetgum on her own for several decades. But strangely enough, she didn’t resist, didn’t even feel the urge to pull away. She just let his hand rest there.

“Do you always go by yourself to the night drop?” he asked, concern and a hint of disapproval in his tone.

She shook her head. “Not always. But Sweetgum’s not exactly a hotbed of criminal activity. Besides”—she tapped the bag—“it’s not like I’ve got a fortune in here.”

“No one ever bothers you?”

“Only you,” she said, smiling a little.

He took her teasing with good grace. “Still, you should be careful.”

His concern was both novel and genuine, and it disconcerted her.

“Have you had dinner?” James asked as they passed Tallulah’s. “We could come back.” He nodded toward the café. Even after football season ended, Tallulah had kept the café open late on Fridays. The place was full but not packed.

“No, I haven’t eaten.” Did she really want to spend more time with James Delevan? Maria looked up at him, at the strong line of his jaw and the inky darkness of his hair. She was dangerously close, she knew, to falling in love with him. Pathetic, really. All it took was a handsome face and a bit of concern for her safety and well-being, and she was a goner. But then, spinsters were supposed to be easy pickings, weren’t they?

“Then we should come back,” he said, making the decision
for her. Maria didn’t object. How could she? She wanted his company. Not that it would last for long. She had no doubt that sooner or later he would tire of Sweetgum, or his role in the lakeside development would end.

In the meantime though, why shouldn’t she enjoy herself? In the end, if she felt any pain when he left, she would have only herself to blame.

“Dinner would be nice,” she said and fell into step beside him.

This time she shared a meal at Tallulah’s with James Delevan and found it to be completely enjoyable. They talked easily, the food was delicious, and the other patrons looked at Maria with a new respect. Not that James treated her in any overtly romantic way. No handholding, no sharing bites off each other’s forks, and certainly no kisses shared across the small, Formica-topped table. Not that people did that kind of thing in Sweetgum anyway. That was reserved for those Hollywood stars who hadn’t been raised right, as Maria’s mother would say.

After the meal he walked her back down the street and around the corner to the side door of the five-and-dime.

“Thank you for dinner,” she said, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands. She thrust them in her coat pockets. Here, on the side of the building, the light from the streetlamps didn’t penetrate the darkness. She could feel James standing next to her far better than she could see him.

“You’re welcome.”

She didn’t know what to do next. Was it so wrong to think that the attention he paid her meant he was interested? At least a little?

“I’d invite you up, but—”

“I wouldn’t want to disturb your family.”

If they had still lived at the farm, she would have asked him in to sit in the living room. Offered him another cup of coffee. Kept him for a little longer.

Time to let it go, Cinderella
, she admonished herself.

“Well, good—”

She never got to finish. Instead, she found herself pulled against James’s chest. Somehow, in the darkness, his lips found hers.

In that short, thrilling moment just before he kissed her, when she felt his breath on her cheek, Maria thought her knees might buckle. Fortunately, he held her upper arms so she didn’t slide to the pavement in a heap of ignominy.

Maria hadn’t been kissed in a very long time. She was afraid she’d forgotten how, but it turned out it was like riding the proverbial bicycle. At least it was with James. And not just any bicycle. A very fast, racing bicycle.

After several enjoyable moments, he pulled away. “Maria…”

The tone of his voice should have warned her.

“I’m sorry,” he continued. “I shouldn’t have done that.”