Linny's Sweet Dream List (19 page)

Linny rested her chin in her hand and absentmindedly patted the decoy on her desk. Slowly, she felt a glimmer of hopeful possibility. Sasha said Faye was a straight shooter, a no-nonsense woman—the type who probably wouldn't have mentioned the job if she'd not been serious in considering Linny. Raking her fingers through her hair, she mulled it over. She had to be a glass-half-full gal if she was going to be in business for herself. Staying positive would attract opportunity, she reminded herself. Sitting up straighter, she wrote an upbeat reply to the note, and put a reminder on September first in her Outlook calendar. She gave a little nod. She'd be calling Ms. Faye Simpson on that date.

“That was the last bundle,” Dare called, dusting off his hands. He raised a questioning brow. “Any word on the gig you wanted?”

“I didn't get it,” she sighed, but gave a determined smile. “But they want to talk to me about another piece of work in September.”

“Very cool.” He nodded, as he stepped to the kitchen counter and polished off a sandwich in three bites. As he reached for another, he mumbled, “I do cray-cray social media.”

Linny gazed at him. “Cray-cray?”

“Crazy good,” he said slowly, like he was talking to a deaf grandmother. “I can amplify you, hook you up on all the B2B marketing tools—LinkedIn, Twitter, Vine, Snapchat, Swarm, Google Plus. Whatever. I get mega engagement. Just did it for Mom's firm, and they're drawing crowds.”

Linny shook her head admiringly and broke into a grin. “Dare, you are a man of many talents.”

He grinned back at her, and ducked his head. “Can you make me another sandwich?”

 

Late that afternoon, she left the young man to his measuring and muffled oaths, and spruced up for Roy's follow-up appointment at the vet's. When she had called Red Oak clinic to schedule Roy's follow-up appointment Ruthie had checked the book, and said, “Dr. Jack can see you any day but Tuesday—that's his surgery day.”

“Darn it. That's the only day that will work for me this week,” Linny lied, and Ruthie scheduled her to see another vet.

She didn't need to be in close proximity to Jack. He was busy, busy, busy with his hot young girlfriend. He probably viewed Linny as a doddering senior citizen. Sucking in her stomach, she glanced in the mirror, but she still had a pooch. No amount of core strengthening was going to give her the board-flat stomach of that girl-child. A rearview glance confirmed that despite her recent forty-minute cheek-clenching walk with Mary Catherine, her bottom was still flat. She blew back her bangs, slung her purse over her shoulder, and corralled Roy.

 

At the desk, Ruthie gave her a bright smile. “How are you and how is young Roy?”

“We're both well. No more cake stealing, and he's stopped trying to eat rocks,” Linny said as the puppy nibbled at her hoop earrings.

“Good decision, Roy.” She reached over the counter and scratched the puppy behind his silky ears. “Our new vet is top notch.” Slipping off half-glasses emblazoned with red fire hydrants, she said in a confidential whisper, “She's smart—just graduated from vet school at Emory, at the top of her class.”

Nodding, Linny sat and tried to read, but soon gave up, concentrating instead on keeping Roy from trying to kiss a Corgi whose peevish-looking owner kept shooting her dirty looks.

“Dr. Nelson will see you now,” Ruthie called to her, gesturing to the slim woman in the white jacket who stood at the door to the examining room.

Linny stared.
Good grief.
Dr. Nelson was the woman she'd seen running with Jack—the nymphet with the shapely calves and bouncy ponytail. Pretending to straighten out a kink in Roy's harness, Linny slowed her breathing and tried to collect herself. How could a man as smart as Jack think it was a good idea to date an employee?

As the vet examined Roy, Linny examined the vet. With her shiny hair pulled back in a no-nonsense clip, the woman had porcelain skin, wide-set gray eyes, and delicate features. She looked familiar, and Linny tried to think of all the places she might have met her but came up empty. Everything about her was glossy and lush, but she wore not a speck of makeup, and had a straightforward, almost tomboy-ish air about her that Linny grudgingly found herself liking.

Watching the vet's smooth hands gently feel Roy's stomach, Linny glanced down at the wrinkles on the back of her own hands. She felt the pooch spilling over the waistband of her shorts, and felt wistful. Most men would pick a lush peach over a fast-drying plum. Both Jack and Buck had, anyhow. But, she reminded herself, Andy had loved her just the way she was. She just needed another Andy.

 

Linny sat in the parking lot for moment, hot air blowing on her face through the vents of the broken air conditioning. Her shoulders sagging, she watched as a laughing young couple walked out of the vet office. He held her hand, and she held the leash of a capering golden retriever puppy. A silver-haired man behind the wheel of a Lincoln Town Car dropped his wife and her pink-bowed, white yip dog off at the front door, and drove off to park. He didn't want either of his girls to be out in the heat. She shook her head. That did it. Sign her up for a loving and protective husband. So she had crepey hands, and none of the dewy freshness of young Dr. Nelson. As she put the car in gear, she said over her shoulder to Roy, “For a woman with slightly higher mileage, I'm holding up pretty dang well, don't you think?” From his red booster car seat in the back, Roy gazed at her adoringly. She sat up straighter, remembering she was a glass-half-full girl. If she was working on the Sweet Dream job, she'd find the Sweet Dream man, too. The heck with Jack Avery. She'd call Craig and meet him for coffee or a drink. Why not?

 

For the next few days, she worked side by side with Dare, installing the reclaimed wood. Saturday afternoon, she stood beside him and gazed at the gleaming floor. Feeling a swell of pride, she grinned and reached over to fist bump him. “I can't believe we did this. We figured it out.”

“It was easy,” he boasted, but gave her a sheepish grin. His day or two of experience at laying flooring had hardly been enough; they'd had to repeatedly revisit the websites about how to lay reclaimed wood floors, and made more than a few frantic phone calls to Jerry for advice. Dare pulled out his phone and began to snap pictures. “These are the
after
shots. We already got eighty-seven hits on the
before
. I've been calling it Dare's Lair Repair,” he said, looking pleased with himself.

She had to smile. Despite her sore muscles, she clasped her hands together, and spun around slowly. “I love it. Even without the paint, the rooms feel so calm and cheerful.” She sighed happily. “I'll miss the cardboard floors, of course . . .”

“These are the classiest mobile home floors I ever saw.” He hitched up his stylishly drooping shorts.

“This was all your idea. You are so smart.” She thought of how much he'd done to make the trailer feel more like a home, and her voice shook with emotion. “Dare, you've been a huge help to me.”

He flushed, and pushed his hands in his pockets. “No biggie.”

She cocked her head. “So over the next few days, can you build me a
cray-cray
social media presence?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “This project rocked,” he mumbled. Dare took a few more pictures and then ducked away to collect his tools.

After pressing a wad of bills into his hand, she waved as his truck—thudding with blaring music—swayed down the driveway. She left a voice mail for Mary Catherine. “Dare did a terrific job. He's a talented guy, and a sweetheart, too. Once he started working, I could hardly get him to stop. He's also going to boost presence for my business on social media.” She was rambling. “Sorry girl, for the long winded message.”

 

That evening at Jumpin' Joe's Bean House, Linny slipped onto a stool that faced out the window and glanced at her watch. She was a few minutes early for her coffee date with Craig because she was anxious—not a can't-wait-to-see-him buzz, but more of a what-the-hey, let's-get-it-over-with jitter. Giving herself a shake, she reminded herself she needed to focus on available men. No more mooning over Jack, missing Andy, or getting enraged about Buck.

Tucking a straying bra strap back in place, Linny wondered if her arms were firm enough for the sleeveless shirt she was wearing. Craig Lyman was just too perfect for her. He looked like he worked out, and Linny guessed he had washboard abs. His features were Ken-doll perfect, and he had a full head of hair. To gild the lily, he was bright, had a good job, and seemed to be devoted to his kids.

Sipping her ice water, Linny felt her stomach rev up a few RPM's. What would someone that perfect want with an unemployed woman whose husbands kept dying on her? Raking back her hair, she saw him approach and smiled nervously as he drew up a stool.

Grinning, he gave her a peck on each of her cheeks. “You look marvelous.”

Marvelous
was not a manly word. She exhaled, felt her stomach warm, and began to relax, remembering his flaw of using girly words. Now if he'd just get a bad haircut, lose some hair, and get a paunch she'd really start to feel comfortable around him.

As he toddled off to get their coffees, Linny reminded herself of Kate's coaching about giving him a chance, and mentally rehearsed a few questions to get the conversational ball rolling.

When he returned, she burbled, “How are you? How are your kids?” Her words came out in a rush, like she'd already had three cups of coffee. She flushed, but tried to look serene.

“Funny you should ask,” he began, his voice taut. “My ex-wife, Megan, and I have been talking.” He looked away, “The kids really miss me and I'm kind of lost without the whole family.” Craig took her hands in his, and gazed at her sorrowfully. “Megan and I have decided to give it another try. I'm going to need to break things off with you, Linny.”

She gazed at him with incredulity. Had she missed something? Like a complete relationship, perhaps? Extricating her hands from his, she asked, “So you're breaking up with me?”

With sad, basset-hound eyes he nodded slowly. “I'm afraid so.”

“But we were never really involved . . .” she spluttered, but then got tickled at the absurdity of the situation, and had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing. What the heck. She'd go along with it. “I'm having trouble grasping this . . .” she murmured.

Sighing deeply, he patted her shoulder comfortingly. “Linny, Linny, Linny.” Putting his fingers to his forehead, he winced. “I've been dreading telling you. This is devastating news for you, I know.”

And then she understood. Here was a guy who hadn't dated since freshman year in college. Of course he was clueless about what constituted a relationship. “It is.” She shook her head mournfully.

“I feel like a real cad . . .”

Bingo. Another word that men didn't use. She hid her smile with a sip of coffee, and impulsively asked, “Do you have a picture of your family?”

Beaming, he whipped out his phone, held it up for her, and paged through ten photos.

Linny gazed at the pictures thoughtfully. His two sons were darling towheads, and Megan was a plump, friendly-looking woman, with mousey brown hair cut in a short wash-and-go style. She was kind of woman Linny would see at the library or grocery store, and instantly recognize as a Mom. Megan was plain and looked sweet—nothing like the glamorous wife Linny had expected to see with Craig. “You have a beautiful family,” she said softly, and meant it.

He nodded and slipped his phone back in his pocket. “But you're still a vibrant and beautiful young woman.” Patting her arm, he gave her an encouraging nod. “Some other man will come along, and snap you right up.”

Slumping her shoulders dispiritedly, she went for a sad, spurned woman look as he walked her to her car. She couldn't wait to tell Kate about the big break-up.

He shook his head, looking regretful. “Again, I'm so sorry for disappointing you. I just need my family.”

“I do understand, Craig,” she said. As she got in her car and pulled away, she laughed so hard she snorted and worried she'd have to pull over. Crazy, crazy, crazy. When her laughter subsided, she thought about it, and felt a wave of compassion for Craig. Of course he needed his family. He'd built his whole life around them. Suddenly single, he was unmoored, drifting, at sea—just like she'd felt lately. Linny shook her head. He didn't know what he was doing any more than she did. The man she'd thought was too perfect was just trying to act out the part of the bachelor about town, and probably trying to hide what a failure he thought he was. Smiling, she sent good wishes his way, and hoped that he and his family reunited and lived happily ever after. Despite all the whipsaw turns and crushing disappointments of her life, she still fervently believed in happily ever after. Rolling down the window, she let the cool evening breeze blow back her hair, and felt a wave of contentment.

M
onday morning, Linny checked her voice mail and listened to a new message. Her mother sounded slightly breathless. “You won't believe it. On the radio, I was the fifth caller in a contest, and I won four tickets to go see a play. I never win those things,” she said, sounding tickled. “I'd love it if you could go with me. It's tonight, and I invited your sister and Jerry, too.”

After her big break up she needed a distraction. Linny shook her head, grinning again as she thought about that strange date and said, “I'd love to come.”

 

Linny paused and breathed in the perfume of the two gardenia bushes that stood beside her Mama's front door. She remembered perfect summer evenings when she was a kid, catching fireflies and shooting baskets with Kate until past dark. Exhaling, she braced herself for the clutter, and knocked. When she got no answer, she pushed open the door. “Mama. It's me.”

“Come on in.” Her mother bustled down the hall and gave her a brief hug.

“Mama, you need to lock your door,” Linny chided.

Dottie frowned. “I keep the screen hooked.”

“That little bitty hook wouldn't be a big deterrent to a burglar,” she said, making her way to the living room.

“I'm fine.” Her mother's jaw had that don't-tell-me-how-to-run-my-life set to it. “I just need a few more minutes.” Dottie scurried back to the bathroom.

“Comb your hair out better, Mama,” Linny called. “You've got speed bumps in back.” Sitting down, she looked around and that closed in feeling grew in her chest.

“Hello!” Kate called, as she stepped into the room. Wearing a blue chambray dress that didn't even hint at a baby tummy, she picked her way over to Linny, gave her a hug, and called out a lilting hello to her mother. “Jerry should be here any minute,” she announced, and she sat her petite bottom in the cleared spot on the couch beside Linny. Frowning, she pointed to a box that appeared to contain a chainsaw, and another labeled,
Belly Blaster Abdominal Trainer
. “This is crazy.”

Linny gave a palms-up shrug. “I'm afraid she's going to turn into one of those hoarders, like on TV.”

“I know. I asked Jerry to talk with her, but I'll bet he hasn't.” Kate pinched her bottom lip. “We need a plan, and soon. Could we do an intervention for yard sale-ing?”

“I don't know.” Linny scrabbled around in her head, trying to think of what else they could do. “Maybe that could work.”

Her sister's purse dinged, and she extracted her cell. “Hey, sweets,” she chirped, but then her smile dimmed. “Fine. Fine. I don't care. Yes.” She ended the call with a vicious jab of her finger.

Linny winced, and guessed. “Jerry has to work late and can't make it?”

“You got it.” Kate's voice was tight.

She reached over and touched her sister's narrow shoulder. “I'm sorry, girl.”

Kate pasted on a wan smile when their mauve-clad mother whisked into the room. A few moments later, they buckled into the Volvo, and headed off into the evening.

When they pulled onto State Street Dottie gazed up at the ornate marquis of the Imperial Theatre, and brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh, this brings back memories. Your daddy and I had our first real date here.”

Linny shot her sister a puzzled look. “You never told us that, Mama.” That seemed like an important detail to not know about her parents.

“Mama, how come you never talk much about Daddy?” Kate asked tentatively.

Her mother snapped, “I'm not sure what business that is of yours.”

The sisters exchanged shocked glances.

Her mother looked away for a moment, and said quietly, “I'm sorry, Katie. Let's go out for dessert later. It's time you girls knew some things.”

Linny gave her sister a sidelong glance, and raised a brow. Kate looked mystified and gave an almost indiscernible shrug.

Although the play was fun and frothy, Linny had trouble concentrating, wondering what her mother might tell her. She glanced over at Kate, who looked absorbed in the play, but her knee kept jiggling.

 

At Marnie's Café, they dug in to their desserts and sipped their coffee. Dottie patted her mouth with her napkin and looked unsmilingly at them. “You asked about your daddy, and it's time I spoke plainly to you.” She took a sip of ice water, and her hand trembled slightly.

Linny tensed, sensing her world was about to tilt on its axis.

“When I was seventeen, my brother introduced me to Boyd, I looked at his green eyes and thought he was so perfect a boy, I could only stammer. He probably thought I was touched.” Dottie rolled her eyes. “A group of us went to the Imperial to see a movie. Your daddy steered me up to the balcony so we could sit by ourselves.” She sighed wistfully. “Just as the movie was about to start, he said, ‘Dottie, I'm going to marry you.' He was so matter-of-fact!” She shook her head. “But I knew it too, the first time I saw him.”

Momentarily forgetting her sense of foreboding, Linny leaned forward and asked, “How did you know?” She could use any man-picking tips she could get.

“It was just a strong, sure feeling I had.” Her mother touched her thin, gold wedding band. “We were married that next fall.”

“I love this story, Mama. Go on,” Kate said softly.

“You might not love it later on,” her mother said in a flat voice.

“We had some good years, but we had two problems.” Dottie's shoulders drooped. “The first was that he worked a lot. Probably from coming up so poor, he had this need to be successful. He got to be manager at the hardware store, and did carpenter work on the weekends to bring in extra money. Later on, he started building houses. He was away from home a lot of the time, and we argued about that.”

This story jibed with the memories she'd been having lately. Linny's stomach tightened, and she was scared of what she might hear next. She found herself babbling. “He was home some, though. I remember riding to the hardware store with him and him teaching me to throw a ball and . . .” She trailed off, surprised that her voice sounded like that of a ten-year old girl.

“He wasn't always gone, sugar.” Her mother patted her hand.

Taking a sip of ice water, Linny did a mental scan for other family memories.

A scene came to her as clearly as a movie clip—she and Kate as skinny-legged girls, wearing seersucker shorts sets and white Keds, peering out the screen door, waiting for him to come home. They'd squeal when they saw his truck turn in the driveway, and jump up and down. ‘Daddy's home! Daddy's home!'

As their father stepped from the truck, he'd scoop them up in his arms. “How are my two favorite daughters?”

Breathless with laughter, they'd respond in unison, “You only have two daughters!”

Gently lowering them to the ground, he'd rub his chin and give an exaggerated look of puzzlement. “By Golly, you're right!” The remark sent them into giggling hilarity.

A second scene came to her. She was sitting in the limb of the tree beside the driveway, pretending to read
To Kill a Mockingbird
but really fighting a forlorn feeling as she watched him drive off.

Her heart thudded as she thought about it. Other than the errands she ran with him, and a game or two of catch, most of her memories were of departures and homecomings, without a lot in the middle. “So he was away a lot working?”

Her mother stirred her cooling coffee. “He worked awful long hours, and he'd also take customers and cronies down to the river house. He called it business, but I called it ‘The Boys' Club.' They had a big ole time. They'd fish and hunt during deer season and duck season and turkey season . . .” Dottie gave a rueful laugh.

“That's not funny, Mama,” Kate protested. “You're saying he left the family alone a lot.”

“I know, shug,” her mother said softly. “I know.”

Other images flooded in, and Linny's chest tightened. She remembered her mother hugging a tearful Kate, who was wearing a conical birthday hat cockeyed on her head. He'd missed his daughter's birthday party. She saw the three of them at church almost every Sunday—no Daddy. Linny could almost hear the shouting match her parents had when he missed most of a week-long family vacation at Carolina Beach. Glancing at her mother's faded eyes surrounded by a faint fan of crows' feet, Linny realized her fifty-nine-year-old mother looked much older than her years, probably because of unhappiness. Linny blew out a sigh, feeling heavy sadness as she realized how empty parts of her mother's marriage must have been—and how much she and Kate had missed. “I'm so sorry, Mama.”

“I was okay. I had you two, Dessie and Ruby, and my friends from church.” Dottie shrugged. “It was hardest on you two. Girls need their daddies, and he was always heading out the door.”

Linny thought about it, and felt a burn of anger in her stomach. Why had he left a perfectly good family alone so much, and why had her mother tolerated it? Her voice was sharp. “Why didn't you make him come home more?”

A flicker of sadness crossed Dottie's face, and her voice was weary. “Honey, I tried and tried to talk sense into him, but that kept him away even more. He just wasn't cut out to be a family man.”

Kate frowned, fixed her gaze on Dottie, and shook her head. “So he was a workaholic?”

Dottie's mouth tightened and she gazed over her glasses at Kate. “In those days we didn't call it that. Back then, if a man worked hard and made a good life for his family, he was admired.” She pursed her lips. “But I used to watch Oprah. He probably was a workaholic.”

Kate's face had gone pale and her mouth was a thin, flat line. “Good Lord. The daughter of a workaholic marries a workaholic.” She hit her forehead with her palm. “And I'm setting up this little one”—she touched her stomach—“to have an absentee daddy.”

“Maybe knowing all this will help you keep that from happening,” her mother said evenly, but sighed deeply. She wasn't done yet. Gazing at them, her voice grew ragged. “The second problem was the big one.”

Linny braced herself, dreading this next bit of news.

“I've been carrying this around, trying to find the right time—and the gumption—to talk to you girls about it.” Dottie opened her purse, and unzipped an inner pocket. “Right before your daddy had his aneurism, somebody, probably a neighbor from down at the river, sent this to me anonymously.” She thrust a faded, grainy Polaroid photo at them, and in a bitter voice said, “This was the problem that I couldn't get past.”

Kate and Linny examined the photo uncomprehendingly. Their father stood on a dock, fishing pole in hand, his arm looped around the neck of a curvy brunette. She stared up at him adoringly, and her arm was snaked around his waist. Tanned and laughing, her father looked raffish, handsome, and undeniably happy.

Linny felt like she might throw up. Gulping her ice water, she breathed deep breaths until the feeling passed. “Who is this woman?”

“She was a longtime girlfriend. I found letters when I cleared out the river house after Daddy died . . .” Her voice broke off, and her face was tight with anguish.

“Oh, Mama.” Kate reached over to squeeze her mother's hands.

Linny shook her head as a wave of fury washed over her. Her father had betrayed Dottie and he'd betrayed them. “Why didn't you tell us? We could have helped you.”

Her mother shook her head sadly. “You girls were deep in grieving about losing your daddy. I just couldn't heap this on you.” Raising one shoulder, she added in a ragged voice, “Mostly, I was ashamed. I thought he loved me.”

Kate said hotly, “He did, Mama. I just think he was a deeply flawed man.”

“Maybe,” her mother said, but looked unconvinced. Leaning forward, she spoke with quiet intensity. “My girls, life is short. Listen to your hearts, decide what you want, and go get it. Don't settle for seconds like I did, and if you know something is wrong, move heaven and earth to fix it. Work hard to make happy lives for yourselves.”

 

The next morning, Linny sat on the porch steps, drinking coffee, and moodily staring out over the fields. This morning's words from Indigo had been,
Serene surroundings calm the troubled heart.
Linny snorted. Troubled was an understatement. Her thoughts raced, and she blinked back tears. She felt so sad for all the Taylor women—her mother for loving a man who only gave her scraps, and for her and Kate for thinking that love only came in small bits and parcels. None of them should have had to work so hard for the love and attention of Boyd Taylor.

Linny had adored her father, measured other men against him and always found them wanting. She scrubbed at her eyes with her fingers, feeling foolish. The picture she'd had of him was so wrong. When her cell trilled and she saw Kate's number, she breathed out a sigh of relief. Talking to Kate would be a tonic. She picked up.

“That was a long, quiet ride home last night,” her sister said, sounding tired. “My head is spinning.”

“So is mine,” Linny agreed. “I just can't believe how screwy our family was growing up.”

“Every family is screwy in some ways, sis,” her sister said quietly. “Learning this truth is probably good for all of us.”

“How come you're sounding so Zen about this mess?” Linny asked, an edge of irritation in her voice.

“I meditated this morning, and just spent the past hour doing tai chi,” her sister admitted. “We probably both need some time to take in this news.”