Sweet Carolina Morning (3 page)

“Ah.” Mary Catherine gave her a knowing look. “Rent the movie
The Parent Trap
. Twin sisters scheme to reunite divorced parents. It helps explain kids' magical thinking.”

Linny fished her spiral notepad from her purse, jotted down the name of the movie, and tapped the pen on the table. “Also, he picks at my cooking and tells me what a great chef his mother is.”

“I'm sure your cooking, well”—Mary Catherine squinted off in the distance—“has improved, but he's feeling loyal to his mom.”

Linny touched her forehead with the palm of her hand. “I should know that. . . .” She trailed off, feeling overwhelmed at all she had to learn. She scribbled another note to herself.

Mary Catherine nodded. “Let's order so we can talk. I've got the first installation of my what-not-to-do list right here.” She tapped the side of her red Coach briefcase.

After they ordered, Mary Catherine slid the briefcase onto the table and opened it. Among the manila files, Linny spotted a
National Enquirer
, a pair of fake glasses with eyeballs that fell out on springs, a small hacksaw, and a bright yellow sports bra. As she rummaged, Mary Catherine must have seen her bemused expression and offered, “I'm trying to work out at lunch.”

As if that explained it all. Linny's mouth quirked up. Classic Mary Catherine.

Triumphantly, her friend pulled out a legal pad with handwritten notes on it, slapped it on the table, and peered at it. “Number one: You call Neal a ‘preexisting child' when you talk to me about him. You need to stop that.”

Linny flushed as she made a note, murmuring, “Yikes.”

Mary Catherine went on. “Two: Don't expect too much too soon. It takes time for blended families to bond.” She gave her a level look. “Sometimes they don't bond at all, no matter what they say in those la-la self-help books you like to read.”

Linny grimaced and searched her friend's face. “Really?”

“Really,” Mary Catherine said drily. “But I see it more in couples who nurse grudges about the failed marriage or use the kids to wage war on their exes.” She gazed at her and said firmly, “You and Jack will make it work.”

“Careful. These are hot.” The apple-cheeked waitress with the perky smile slid their plates onto the table.

Mary Catherine tucked into her scrambled eggs and glanced down at her notepad. “Three: Don't forget who you are. You're a try-hard girl, but don't let yourself get all caught up in trying to be the perfect stepparent.” She chewed her bacon and looked thoughtful. “Mike's got a teacher friend from school who's just married a mom, and he's trying way too hard to be father of the year. He's taking the kids hiking, trying to have meaningful talks with them, tossing the football around . . .” She shook her head. “He's driving everybody crazy, including his new wife.”

So much for the heart-to-heart talks with Neal she'd pictured. Linny scribbled furiously, then paused to take a bite of creamy, cheesy omelet. She paused to sigh blissfully. “Yum.”

“Yum is right,” Mary Catherine said as she chewed a bite of jam-covered biscuit.

As the waitress stopped by to warm up their coffee, Linny pointed at her friend with a triangle of wheat toast. “Any other tips?”

Mary Catherine patted her mouth with a napkin. “That's all for now. I don't want to overwhelm you.”

Linny gave a wry smile and lifted her shoulder. “Too late for that, but it's not your doing.”

Mary Catherine popped a bite of bacon in her mouth, her eyes dancing with mischief. “On a different note, I've got something else for you. I almost forgot.” Forking in a last mouthful of hash browns, she opened the briefcase, grabbed a bundle of coupons from an envelope, and fanned them out on the table like a card dealer in Vegas. “Ta-da.”

Linny peered at them. “What are these?”

Mary Catherine gave a gleeful smile. “Ten adventure coupons. I won the door prize at the Bar Association holiday party. I told you about it.”

Vaguely remembering, Linny tilted her head and read out loud, “Skeet shooting, paintball party, NASCAR Driving Experience, rock climbing, five-K mud obstacle challenge . . .” She gave a low whistle. “Man. I'll bet there were some attorneys there who wanted to wrestle you to the ground for these.”

“There were,” Mary Catherine said smugly. “Pick a few you want to do with me. Dare has dibs on paintball and Mike wants the NASCAR driving deal. The rest are up for grabs.”

“I like to read on the sofa with my dog,” Linny reminded her. “I'm not that adventurous.”

Mary Catherine scoffed. “You're plenty adventurous. You play golf, you can put in wood floors, and you own a small business.” She gazed at Linny and arched a brow. “I also think a twice-widowed woman marrying again and taking on a child is adventurous. Don't you?”

Linny nodded, warmed by the support.

Thumbing through the coupons, Mary Catherine selected one and lay it on the table with a flourish. “Here's a tame one: an evening of pampering at Quiet River Spa.”

Linny broke into a smile. “Now that's more my speed.”

“Good. We'll do it. Think about doing some of the others with me, too. They'd be fun, different,” her friend encouraged. Glancing at her watch, she gulped the last of her coffee. “I've got to be in court at nine.”

Linny flushed, chagrined. “I'm sorry, girl. Breakfast is over and we haven't even had a chance to talk about you.”

Her friend waved a hand dismissively. “We had business to discuss, and luckily, my life is calm right now.” Mary Catherine stood and pulled Linny into a quick hug. Slipping on her coat, she grabbed her red Coach bag and strode off with a jaunty wave.

L
inny found herself humming as she finished getting ready for her and Jack's Saturday night date. Marnie's Café—a restaurant she'd frequented since they'd first opened their doors just a few years ago—had just been given a five-star rating by the food critic at the
Raleigh Clarion
. The café was such a hot spot these days that she'd had to make tonight's reservation two weeks earlier. Tonight needed to be special; it was her and Jack's four-month anniversary. In the bathroom mirror in Jack's guest room, Linny looped dangly gold earrings in her ears and turned around to make sure the steam from her shower had relaxed the wrinkles from her dress. She smoothed the soft fabric over her hips and gave a little nod, satisfied. The dress would make Jack's eyes light up. In a creamy flaxen color, with a sweetheart neckline and a simple cut, the dress had a retro feel to it that she loved. Best of all, it made Linny feel pretty.

The dress was a splurge, the first she'd allowed herself in a long time. After the year she'd had cleaning up the messes left by her hound dog of a late husband and getting her new business off the ground, she was feeling better about money. She also couldn't believe she'd met a man as amazing as Jack. Her life was looking up. Even with all her uncertainty about how she'd manage with Neal, Linny felt like she'd walked out of a cave into a clear, sunny day. She knocked on the wood wainscoting on the wall and shivered. Feeling so hopeful and happy—especially about a man—made her nervous.

In the bathroom, she reached in the cosmetic bag she toted back and forth from her trailer to Jack's house and smoothed on moisturizer. She smiled, thinking about her day with Neal. When Jack had worried aloud about it being his weekend with Neal but needing to spend time at his vet clinic Saturday to work with his tech person on upgrading the computer system, Linny had piped up, “Let me take him for the day. We need to spend time together, one on one.” She wanted to be of help to Jack and she needed to build a bond with the boy. He could be so prickly and standoffish.

As she applied beauty balm with SPF 50, she thought about the hours she'd spent online, researching events or exhibits Neal might like. She'd so wanted an outing that would knock his socks off, especially given how wrong-footed she'd been almost every time she'd tried to guess what twelve-year-old boys liked. Linny couldn't get it right, from the too-grown-up supper menus to the dud presents she'd given him for Christmas. She winced, remembering how puzzled Neal had looked when he'd unwrapped the Marco the Magician set, the LEGO King's Castle, and the socks that lit up. He'd thanked her politely and never touched them again. She winced remembering that misstep and others.

He loved trains, stamps, insects, and the Carolina Hurricanes hockey team, things Linny knew nothing about. When Neal talked to her about rhino beetles, Inverted Jenny stamps, and hat tricks, Linny just smiled vaguely.

When Neal talked to his Dad about his favorite Hurricanes players—Cam Ward and John-Michael Liles—half the time, Linny tuned out. How could men in ice skates smashing into one another be so interesting? A hot topic for the Avery men was the team's chances for another Stanley Cup. Deciding she needed to make more of an effort, Linny studied the sports section of the
News and Clarion
but had trouble remembering much of what she'd read. Friday night at supper, she'd asked a good enough hockey question to catch Neal's interest, but when he looked intrigued and answered, she was stumped about what to say next. The flicker of interest in the boy's eyes faded and he'd asked to be excused.

Neal also loved astronomy. Last month, Neal had attended a program on black holes at the Morehead Planetarium in Chapel Hill, and it had turbocharged his interest in stars and planets. One night last week, Neal had walked right into a fence post on the way from Jack's truck to the house, too busy trying to find the Little Dipper to watch where he was going. He'd sported a slight black eye for a few days.

Linny brushed her hair and pulled the side pieces into a clip.

But today's ride on the restored steam-powered locomotive in the nearby town of Bonsal had been a smash hit. She'd worried he'd be too grown up for the train, but he'd loved it.

In the open-air passenger car, Neal had smiled and chattered to her nonstop as they chugged through quiet woods and crossed trestles. He'd done his research before they left the house. She marveled at the way he retained facts as he rattled on with his railroad info. “The first steam-powered locomotive built in the US was called the
Tom Thumb
. Large locomotives could burn up to five thousand pounds of coal per hour. Until 1870, most of the US steam locomotives were fueled by wood, but when forests ran out of trees they moved to coal-fired engines.”

Linny bobbed her head encouragingly. This rush of talk was wonderful from a young man she'd found to be a hard nut to crack conversationally speaking. But today she'd got it right. The train had been a winner and Linny was thrilled.

After the ride, they'd explored the model railroad garden and slowly toured the antique train museum. There, the volunteers—who had to be serious train buffs—seemed delighted as Neal peppered them with questions. They'd answered each one thoroughly and complimented him on his knowledge. While Neal was in the restroom, the man in the blue conductor uniform and the bushy eyebrows had said to her, “Your son is a bright young fellow.” Flushing, Linny had thanked him and not corrected him.
Your son. Your son.
She'd rolled those words around in her head and felt thrilled.

On the drive home, Linny had handed Neal her phone, and his finger flew as he scrolled through the pictures she'd taken. He'd asked for a copy of the photo of him standing in front of the scarlet train, beside the engineer who wore classic bib overalls, a striped hat, and a bandanna. Neal usually tensed up when someone tried to take his picture, but Linny had caught him in an unguarded moment. Neal's grin was wide and his face open.

The day had been a triumph for her. Maybe she'd start keeping score: good stepmother plus one, evil stepmother minus two. She could do this. After brushing on sheer powder, Linny applied a light coat of Ginger a Go Go lipstick and remembered how earnest Neal had been when he'd thanked her on the drive home. She smiled. When he was being real instead of hiding behind his precociousness or his postdivorce walls, he was so endearing.

After a final look at herself in the bathroom mirror, Linny switched off the lights and joined the men in the living room. Neal was engrossed in the Xbox and hardly looked up when she entered the room, but Jack put down his newspaper, rose, and gave her a smile that signaled affection, gratitude, and desire. Ah, bliss. Her breath caught. The man was delectable in his khakis and the green and white tattersall shirt she'd bought for him because it made his green eyes look even greener. She tried not to grin foolishly at him as they filed out to his truck, Jack's hand on the small of her back.

Although Jack and Vera usually traded turns picking up and dropping off Neal during their respective weeks, tonight Vera had asked to meet in the Costco parking lot, a halfway point for both parents. Linny glanced at the clock on the dash. They were just a few minutes early. While Jack and Neal talked about last night's hockey game, Linny scanned the parking lot for Vera's Mercedes. She thought about the ahi tuna dish at Marnie's that had sent the food critic into paroxysms of delight. Her stomach growled loudly, and Jack looked over at her and winked.

“Hungry, darlin?” His eyes twinkled.

“I am.” She blushed at that unladylike rumble, and as the men resumed their debate about which Hurricane players should start, she snuck another peek at the clock on the dash. Dang. Vera was late. Ten minutes so far. Her eyes swept the parking lot again, hoping she'd see the black Mercedes pull in beside them. Last week Vera had been forty minutes late picking Neal up at the house, and Linny and Jack had missed their movie. Her colorist ran late, Vera said as she breezed in. No apology, of course.

Tonight Linny was determined not to lose their 7:00 p.m. reservation. She'd been looking forward to this celebratory date all week. Glancing over at Jack, she saw he was looking at Neal's phone as the boy explained a new game he'd downloaded. He didn't even seem to notice Vera was late.

She tightened the buckle on her boot and thought about it. He was so time conscious throughout his work week at Red Oak Animal Hospital. He was never late for appointments. But on weekends with her and Neal, he took off his watch and was more laid-back. “I'm trying to be more present, in the moment,” he explained, and glanced at her to gauge whether she'd laugh at him for sounding so New Agey. But she'd just nodded. He'd seen a therapist when his marriage with Vera was on the skids, and she knew how determined he was not to make the same mistakes with her. His earnestness touched her.

But Vera was late. Linny's stomach gripped as she glanced up and saw it was 6:45. She touched Jack's arm. “Seven o'clock reservations,” she reminded him.

Jack saw the time and looked surprised. “I'll give her a call.” He pulled his cell from the console and waited while it rang. “Hey, Vera. We're here. Where are you?”

Hearing Vera's tinkly voice through the phone, Linny exhaled noisily but remembered Neal was in the backseat and pretended to cough to hide it. Neal needn't know she was annoyed. Vera had a breathy voice that seemed to turn grown men to mush, and when she wasn't in flat-out charm-you mode, she spoke in a girlish trill that set Linny's teeth on edge. Couple the voice with a Barbie doll figure, ice-blonde hair, and the fact that she'd be forever entwined with Jack because of Neal, it was just a bit much. Linny wasn't sure if she disdained or envied her. It was probably equal measures of both. She sat up straighter and worked on looking pleasant and neutral. When Jack ended the call, she gazed at him questioningly.

“She made it to the finals in the women's doubles tournament and it ran an extra set. She says she's almost here.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable.

“Did she win?” Neal called from the backseat, sounding more upbeat and chipper than he had all day.

“I didn't ask.” Jack called over the backseat and turned back to Linny. “How about you call the restaurant and tell them we're running fifteen or twenty minutes late?”

Linny's stomach churned as she looked up the number and entered it. She didn't want the evening spoiled. She breathed out when the owner answered, sounding harried.

“Marnie, this is Linny Taylor. We have seven o'clock reservations and we're running late. Any way you can hold them for us?”

Marnie blew out a sigh. “I love you to pieces, Linny, but we have a line out the door and around the building. If you can get here by seven-twenty, I can hold a table for you. But after that, all bets are off. The natives are restless.” She rang off.

In a flat voice, Linny conveyed the conversation to Jack, and he started glancing around the parking lot, too, craning his neck to look for his ex-wife's car.

Ten minutes later, Linny was simmering. She'd stopped looking and started reading her email to distract herself and avoid talking to Jack. Irrationally, she was mad at him because his ex-wife was late. Even if Vera pulled up now, it would be hard to get across town and to the restaurant by 7:20.

Jack frowned and picked up the phone to call Vera again, just as the shiny black Mercedes wagon pulled in beside them.

Vera sprang from the driver's seat, smiling and waving gaily. “Hey, everyone!” she called, looking at Jack and tossing back her hair. “We just kept winning.” She turned her palms upward in a what-could-I-do gesture and gave a tinkling laugh. With a fleece thrown over the tiny tennis dress with mint green piping and a matching visor on her head, Vera strode over to the car on the trim, muscular legs Linny had only seen on Olympic figure skaters. She sniffed. Funny; Vera'd been chilly enough for the jacket but hadn't bothered to throw on a pair of sweatpants. She wanted to show off those gams. Linny quietly steamed.

She pictured Vera mincing as she walked up to accept the silver tennis trophy at the club awards dinner, an endless piece of toilet paper trailing from her shoe. Next, a tragic hair flat-iron malfunction leaving Vera looking like Big Bird as she stared, bewildered, at the hunks of blond tresses burned off in her hand. Linny exhaled, feeling better. Those visualizations she'd learned from that self-help book could be so calming.

As Vera waited for Neal to gather his things, she rattled on about the match, as if Linny and Jack had been breathlessly waiting for the recap. Neal, however, looked enthralled. “Then what happened?” he asked as he unplugged his charger and slipped it in his bag.

After the boy gave Jack a hurried hug, he turned away and walked toward the car, his mother's hand on his shoulder.

In a sharp voice, Jack called out the open window, “Son, did you say good-bye to Linny?”

Without bothering to turn around, Neal raised a hand in an off-hand wave and called over his shoulder, “'Bye, Linny.”

Ouch. Linny smarted.

As Jack began to raise the window, Linny heard honey-voiced Vera ask the boy, “How was the railroad?”

“Okay,” Neal said, sounding bored. He tossed his duffel in the back of the gleaming black car and climbed into the passenger seat.

Linny drew in a breath sharply and looked at Jack, but he was slipping on his driving glasses and whistling under his breath. Had he noticed Neal's tone, or was she being too sensitive? Sounding more plaintive than she'd intended, Linny said, “He sounded like he just tolerated the railroad trip.”