Ain't She Sweet? (19 page)

God, however, had better things to do than listen to the prayers of a tarnished Southern belle, because the next time she opened the door, the Seawillows were standing on the other side.

Not all of them. Only Leeann and Merylinn. But they were enough. Sugar Beth stared into their faces, so familiar, yet changed, and she remembered how Colin had danced around the truth. She should have known they’d be here. Part of her must have known.

Leeann and Merylinn stared back, not surprised, because they’d been expecting exactly this. Leeann’s eyes sparkled with malicious delight. “Why, Sugar Beth. We heard you were back in town.”

“Imagine running into you here of all places,” Merylinn said.

Once the two of them had been her closest friends. But she’d gone to Ole Miss and forgotten them. Leeann was a nurse now and a good twenty pounds heavier than her high school weight. She’d been one of the best athletes in the senior class. She wore a bright yellow silk sheath more suited to July than early March. Merylinn’s ribbed-knit tangerine suit fit her tall, large frame, but she still had too heavy a hand with makeup. Tallulah had said she taught high school math. It was hard to imagine Merylinn, Sugar Beth’s favorite companion in mischief, as a teacher.

Sugar Beth realized she was blocking the doorway and stepped aside. For the first time, she noticed the men. Deke Jasper, Merylinn’s husband, had lost some of his auburn hair, but he was still square-jawed and good-looking. He’d always been a soft touch, and she thought she saw a flash of sympathy in his eyes. Leeann’s date was a small neat man who wore too much cologne.

“Hey, Sugar Beth. Remember me? Brad Simmons.”

He’d been one of those boys who hadn’t fit into any particular crowd. At the eighth-grade spring dance, he’d asked her to dance, and she’d almost wet her pants laughing because he was short and she was Sugar Beth Carey.

She sensed Colin standing a few feet away, waiting to see if she’d fall apart. She bit the inside of her lip and began to close the door, only to see two more couples making their way up the front sidewalk. Heidi and Amy, along with their husbands. She should have known. Where there was one Seawillow, there were bound to be more.

Just that morning, she and Colin had smiled at each other when Gordon had trotted into the kitchen with one of his ears turned inside out and an empty cracker box in his mouth.

Now she hated him for that smile.

Heidi Dwyer—Pettibone now—still had big hazel eyes and unruly curly red hair. A sterling silver teddy bear hung from a chain around her neck, and her bright purple sweater was appliquéd with a bouquet of kites flying in the March breeze. Sugar Beth imagined a bureau stuffed full of sweaters appropriate to every season and holiday. In the old days, Heidi had made clothes for their Barbies.

Heidi’s husband, Phil, had played football with Ryan. He was as thin as he’d been in high school, but now he had the tanned, wiry look of a distance runner. During the summer between junior and senior year, all of them had spent their weekends at the lake making out and drinking the beer that one of the busboys at the Lakehouse had smuggled to them.

Phil and Heidi had been going out then, but Phil had tried to kiss Sugar Beth. She hadn’t wanted to spoil his friendship with Ryan, so she’d never told him about it, but she’d told Heidi and made her cry.

Amy still didn’t wear makeup, and the gold cross visible in the open neck of her matronly pink dress was a larger version of the one she’d worn in high school, when she and Sugar Beth had taken over Ellie’s kitchen to bake cookies. The brown-haired man in glasses must be her husband.

“Hi, Sugar Beth.” Amy was too religious to walk past her. But just because Amy had forgiven the sinner didn’t mean she was obligated to forgive the sin, and she neglected to introduce her husband. Instead, she headed straight for Colin, and her warm greeting made no secret of where her loyalty lay.

Leeann waved at someone in the living room. She’d been Sugar Beth’s oldest friend.

They’d met in nursery school, where, according to their mothers, Leeann had tried to take a play telephone away from Sugar Beth, and Sugar Beth had conked her over the head with it. When Leeann had started to cry, Sugar Beth had cried along with her, then handed over her new Miss Piggy watch to make her stop. Of all the Seawillows, Leeann had felt the most betrayed when Sugar Beth had turned her back on them for Darren Tharp.

“Colin, sweetie.” She plastered herself against the teacher who’d nearly flunked her because she wasn’t smart enough to b.s. her way through his essay questions. But the fact that Leeann probably still thought Beowulf was a WWF wrestler didn’t seem to bother him now. As he gave her a warm hug, he didn’t even try to look down her dress.

Sugar Beth finally let herself notice what she hadn’t wanted to see. Leeann was wearing a coat.

It was a jacket, really. Quilted brown wool that was too heavy to wear inside. Something the maid would be expected to hang up. Leeann quivered with delight as she shrugged out of it and tossed it to Sugar Beth. “Be careful with that. It’s my favorite.”

A dozen insults skipped through Sugar Beth’s head, but she didn’t utter a single one of them because she’d turned her back on her oldest friend for a worthless shortstop named Darren Tharp.

All of them watched her as she made her way across the foyer. The jacket on her arm weighed a thousand pounds.

The bell rang again. She kept moving. Didn’t let herself hear it. Almost made her escape.

“Get that, would you, Sugar Beth?” Colin said quietly.

Dread curled in her stomach.
Where there was one Seawillow, there were bound to be
more.

The walk back to the door took forever. No more Seawillows lived in Parrish. All the rest had moved away. But some of their boyfriends had stayed . . .

She opened the door.

He looked as familiar as if she’d seen him just that morning, yet the years had left their mark, and as she gazed into his eyes, she knew the teenage boy she remembered was a mere shadow of the man he’d become. He was even more handsome than she’d imagined he would be, confident and polished, his blond hair a shade darker but his eyes the same warm caramel. His black-and-white-herringbone sports coat was perfectly coordinated with a subtly striped shirt. Both pieces were beautifully made and very expensive. But despite his astounding good looks, she felt no pangs of passion. None of the hot rush of desire that Colin Byrne aroused. Instead, she experienced a mixture of nostalgia and bone-deep regret.

Leeann’s wool jacket burned her arm. The pianist began playing a Sting ballad. Ryan’s family had been poor compared with her own. Their house was small and cramped, their cars old, but she’d never cared about that. Even when he’d been a boy, she’d seen his worth. For that, at least, she could give herself credit. Then again, maybe it had just been sex.

“Hello, Sugar Beth.”

She tried to get his name out, but it stuck to the roof of her mouth, and all she could manage was a nod. She stepped back awkwardly to let them in. Because, of course, Ryan hadn’t come alone.

Winnie had replaced Diddie’s pearls with a bezel-set diamond, and matching studs glittered through her dark hair. She wore a slim-fitting basil green pantsuit with an emerald sequin camisole. The color would have washed out Sugar Beth, but Winnie had Griffin’s olive tones, and she looked stunning.

She didn’t show any of the spiteful delight that Leeann and Merylinn had shown. As their eyes met, she exhibited only a deep, fierce dignity. Let all the world see that the lumpy outcast had turned into a very beautiful, very wealthy swan.

Ryan slipped his arm around Winnie’s shoulders. Sugar Beth got the point.

Colin stepped forward. Winnie looked small and feminine standing between the two men.

Sugar Beth had forgotten how petite she was. She and Colin exchanged a social kiss.

“Winnie, you look smashing tonight. But, then, you always do.” His smile told Sugar Beth that, however fond he might be of Leeann and the other Seawillows, his friendship with Winnie ran deeper.

“I was afraid we’d be late. Ryan had an emergency at the plant.”

“Equipment trouble with one of the lines,” Ryan said. “But we’re up and running again.”

“Glad to hear it.” Colin and Ryan shook hands in the easy way of men who were comfortable with each other. They were a study in contrasts: Ryan fair and fine-featured.

Colin dark, brooding, and enigmatic. She fled.

By the time she reached the laundry room, she was shaking. Nothing would make her go back out there. She was leaving and never coming back. Her purse? Where had she left it? Where—

I love you, my Sugar Beth. And you love me, too, don’t you?

Delilah . . . Just for a moment, she’d let herself forget. Preserving her pride wouldn’t put a stop to the bills that were coming due for her stepdaughter’s care. Once again she’d reached another of life’s turning points. Emmett would have called tonight a golden opportunity to show what she was made of.

Glass, my darling. Just like one of Daddy’s windows.

Quitcher bitchin’, love, and do what has to be done.

Easy for you to say. You’re dead.

But you’re not, and Delilah depends on you.

She stabbed a hanger into the sleeves of Leeann’s jacket. She could almost taste the sweetness of revenge on Colin’s tongue. He expected her to run—wanted her to run—and the longer she locked herself away back here, the more satisfaction she was giving him.

She turned to the door and drew a deep breath. It was time to test herself. Again.

“There is something excessively vulgar about persons under the sway of strong
emotions.”

GEORGETTE HEYER,
The Corinthian

CHAPTER TEN

Colin watched as Sugar Beth came into the living room, carrying a tray of canapés and a stack of cocktail napkins. The Seawillows lifted their heads, carrion birds spotting their prey. They’d flocked together, leaving their husbands to fend for themselves. Winnie, the former outcast who’d become their leader, shone in their midst like the diamonds she wore. She took a sip from her wineglass, neither ignoring Sugar Beth’s presence nor staring at her as the others were doing.

Ryan stood in the archway, separated from the rest, but discreetly watching Sugar Beth.

Colin tried to tap into the sense of righteousness that had fueled him ever since she’d returned to Parrish, but he couldn’t find it. Watching her being forced to take Leeann’s coat had been more than enough to satisfy his need for revenge. Now he simply wanted the evening over so he could put Sugar Beth and all the mayhem she caused behind him.

The color burned high in her cheeks as she crossed the room, but instead of avoiding the Seawillows, like any sensible person, she headed straight for them. Colin could feel their bad will creeping toward her like radioactive waste. She’d hurt them all, and they hadn’t forgotten. As she forged ahead, he wished she had at least a little ammunition to defend herself: the black stilettos he’d forced her to abandon, one of her shrink-wrapped tops, the turquoise butterfly.

She held out the tray to Leeann. “Shrimp?”

Leeann touched a finger to her chin. “Give me a minute, will you? I’m trying to imagine what Diddie would think if she could see her Sugar Baby now.”

Instead of wiping the smirk from Leeann’s face with one of her cutting remarks, as the old Sugar Beth would have done, the tall blonde with the shrimp tray didn’t say a word.

She just stood there and let them look her over as if she’d grown fungus.

Colin hated this. Why didn’t she cut her losses and walk away? Did she need that painting so badly? He could think of no other reason she’d be so willing to trade in her self-respect.

“Are the shrimp fresh?” Heidi asked, nose in the air.

As a host, he should have been offended, but this didn’t have anything to do with him or the shrimp. He willed Sugar Beth to launch a counterattack, but she didn’t.

“I’m sure they are.”

Heidi took a shrimp, and Leeann, full of self-righteousness, reached for Winnie’s half-full glass. “Winnie’s champagne needs refreshing. Get it for her.”

He’d been the evening’s architect, so how could he blame them for such naked displays of delight? When he’d made his plan, he’d seen this as the perfect way to settle scores. A gentleman’s revenge, if you will—straight to the point but without bloodshed. Now, however, his old bitterness seemed like a grainy piece of film that had played too long in his head.

Sugar Beth slipped the napkins into the same hand that balanced the tray, and took the flute.

His thirst for revenge turned to ashes in his mouth, and the old, destructive desire to slay dragons took over. He moved to her side. “I’ll take care of that.”

She pulled the glass away before he could touch it. “Don’t you trouble yourself, Mr.

Byrne. I’m more than happy to get it.” She set off for the bar, chin high, posture erect, a queen with a shrimp tray in her hand.

“Well, la-di-da.” Leeann frowned, disappointed that she hadn’t gotten more of a reaction.

“She’s still a snot.”

Heidi craned her neck to watch Sugar Beth at the bar. “Did you see her face when Leeann gave her Winnie’s glass? I don’t know about y’all, but this is the best party I’ve ever been to.”

Amy looked worried. “I shouldn’t be enjoying this so much.”

“Have a ball,” Merylinn retorted. “You can beg Jesus for forgiveness tomorrow.”

“She just wrote us out of her life,” Heidi said. “The minute she got to college, it was like we didn’t exist anymore.”

“Plus what she did to Colin,” Amy added.

“She swore it was true,” Leeann said to him. “But we never believed her.”

Colin had heard this before, and he didn’t want to hear it again. “Water under the bridge and all that. Let’s let it go.”

They stared at him, but before they could pounce, Sugar Beth returned with Winnie’s glass. Winnie took it without looking at her, just as if Sugar Beth were invisible. He should congratulate himself. This was drawing-room justice at its finest.