The Suit (4 page)

“Of course.” He stands and turns toward me. “I’ll be outside.” Then he saunters out of the office in a breeze of sophistication and elegance.

“Seriously,” I say to Carl, desperation thick in my voice. “There has to be a way out of this. He’s a complete stranger for God’s sake and I’m supposed to just let him move in with me?”

“I’m afraid so, dear. This was going to happen whether Bud had passed or not.”

“He’s a stranger for God’s sake!” I repeat in frustration. Apparently I feel like I need to reiterate that point.

“I can see how that would be uncomfortable for you, but your granddaddy did trust him.”

“You know what people will think Carl. Everyone will be gossiping and assuming him and me
are…” I pause. My next words were going to be ‘hooking up,’ but I’m not sure I should say that to Carl. Carl’s face reddens slightly and he gives me a knowing nod.

“Seems Bud put me in charge of making sure you both keep the agreement.” He moves on, avoiding my last statement.

“Both?”

“You must allow Mr. Wilson to fulfill his end of the agreement.”

“This is insane. You know that, right?”

Carl chuckles hardily. “It’s not so bad. It’ll be an extra hand to help out.” Carl pulls his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose. I waste five more minutes of his time begging him to figure out a way to get me out of this arrangement, but my pleas fall on deaf ears.

I leave his office in a complete fog. Tomorrow, a complete stranger who thinks I’m some kind of floozy and probably has no idea what the hell to do around a farm, is going to move in with me.

After I exit Carl’s office, letting his pep talk about honoring Daddy Bud’s wishes sink in, I find the suit perched on the hood of his car, arms crossed, suit jacket open. His head is bowed as if he’s thinking or
staring at the ground. As soon as he senses my presence, he stands and approaches.

“Look, I know this is not ideal for you,” he begins.

“Or for you,” I add shoving my hands into the front pocket on my sweatshirt. “Can you understand I basically just lost my last family member and now I have to live with a complete stranger?”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Trust me. This is the last place in the world I want to be at.”

Something about his words offends me. He sounds like a snob; as if he’s too good to live on a farm with me. “Oh, well, I’m so sorry a refined man such as yourself is being forced to stay with little ole me. Bless your heart, sugar.” My accent is about as country as I can make it and my tone is drenched with sarcasm.

“That’s not what I meant, Edie,” he huffs shaking his head.

“Well, what did you mean?” I snap and cross my arms.

“Look,” he groans. “Obviously we’re two very different people.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean I’m of a different breed.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

“That came out wrong. I just mean you’re from here and I’m used to being somewhere else.”

“Oh, so you think I’m uncultured?”

“Jesus. Never mind. I’m just trying to explain I’m not thrilled ab
out this either.”

“I’m waiting,” I cross my arms tighter. “Please explain, but speak slowly. We’re s
low in these here parts,” I say.

He snorts, shaking with laughter. “Wow. You’re
that
woman.”

“Excuse me?”

“The kind of woman that finds insult in everything a person says.”

I have to take a few seconds to process what he’s just said.
Oh, the irony.
“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough,” he laughs.

“You know what? Just forget it, suit. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I stomp away from him like a furious child. What has Daddy Bud done? Why would he make a man come here who obviously hates it?

I head straight over to Nikki’s house in desperate ne
ed of someone to whine to. Twenty minutes later, I’m knocking on her door.

“Hey boo, what are you doing here?” Nikki greets me happily and motions for me to come in. She’s wearing her Holly Springs pageant sash and the tiara over her spandex shorts and sports bra. Her skin glistens with the sheen of a light sweat. I stare at her a moment and she shrugs nonchalantly.

“I have to hand over the title in a couple of months or so when I win the Miss Raleigh pageant and I was just putting it on for kicks.”

“While working out?” I smirk at her.

“I look pretty ridiculous, huh?” she snorts as she looks down at herself.

“Not at all,” I say, dryly.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she pouts.

“Confident you’ll win, huh?”

“Optimistic,” she clarifies.

“Well the new Miss Holly Springs will cower in your shadow, my friend,” I tease. With a mother that abandoned her and a father that treats her more like a commodity than his flesh and blood, Nikki has had to navigate through life without a lot of guidance. Born into wealth, she never wanted for anything material wise, but
it’s love and nurturing she lacked from her family. When she discovered she was beautiful, she became obsessed with it. She’s not snobby or stuck up. Far from it. She has mastered the art of wearing makeup while looking like she isn’t. She works out, but will still down a pitcher of beer and a basket of onion rings. Of course she drinks lemon water and eats lettuce when she’s alone.

“Thanks, peach. The town seems to be betting on Aimee Mathers. She’s pretty.” Nikki nods approvingly.

“She is,” I agree, proud that my best friend isn’t so insecure that she would have to put the new potential Miss Holly Springs down to make herself feel better.

“So, to what do I owe this pleasure?” she asks as she pulls her sash over her head.

“You will never believe what has happened.” We sit at Nikki’s kitchen table and I explain about the suit and Daddy Bud’s letter. When I’m done, Nikki has a giant grin on her face.

“So let me get this straight.” She leans toward me slightly. “An
incredibly
sexy man is moving in with you, whom your grandfather liked and trusted, and you’re upset…why?” Nikki pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her chin on them.

I stare at her blankly. How can she not see why I’m upset? “I barely know him.” I point out. “I mean, I’m going to be living alone with a complete stranger for the next ninety days. Not to mention all of these stipulations Daddy Bud left me to keep the farm.”

“Hey,” Nikki’s tone softens as she gazes at me. “I have no doubt you’ll meet every one of your grandfather’s requirements. Are you worried?”

“Well, yes. What if I can’t? They’ll sell the farm. That’s my home.”

“Edie, it will be fine.”

“Even if it is, I still have to endure the suit for three months,” I groan.

Nikki’s hand finds mine. “Look Edie, I know you don’t do well with change, but try to look on the bright side here. It’s free labor. He doesn’t sound like he’s an asshole or anything. At least not a giant one,” she adds when she sees me roll my eyes. “It’s the giant ones you gotta worry about. Plus, he
is
smoking hot. You can either make this awkward and uncomfortable for both of you or you could maybe make a new friend. A lawyer friend at that. Who knows when that kind of connection might come in handy.”

“He’s not a lawyer yet,” I grumble.

“But he will be.”

“He thinks I’m country white trash. As if he’s so sophisticated and I couldn’t possibly comprehend the world he comes from.”

“He called you white trash?” Nikki asks as her eyes flicker. She’s putting her ‘bitch face’ on for me. She wouldn’t dare let anyone put me down. This is why I love her.

Okay, he didn’t exactly call me white trash.

“Not his exact words,” I correct myself. “He said he was of a ‘different breed’ and I couldn’t understand why this is going to be harder for him than me.”

“Well, he is from the city, and you are from the country.” Her angry eyes have faded and she leans back a little more relaxed.

“Oh, please! What does he know? I’ve lived in the city. I went to college…for two years,” I add. “I’m not completely unworldly.”

Nikki stands and opens her fridge, grabbing us each a can of Coke. “Edie, give the guy a chance. You guys don’t have to be best friends and he’ll only be here for three months and then you’re on your own.”

Her words are meant to ease my worries, but instead they stir up something else. Fear maybe? When the suit is gone, I will be all alone. What then?

“Besides,” she continues. “You never know what could happen in three months.” She winks at me before popping her soda open.

“If you’re implying we might hook up…you’re crazy.”

“I guess we’ll see,” she laughs, and I roll my eyes.

I feel like such an ass. I have no idea why I ever agreed to do this thing for Bud James.
Okay, yes I do.
Money. But it was more than that. Bud James helped me when there was no one else. When my folks died he’d paid off their property and put me through school. I swore to him I would pay him back. And I did. Or I was going to.

Although he kept our farm from foreclosure and saved me the embarrassment of it, the farm was sold a few months later and Bud was reimbursed. Farm life wasn’t for me. Learning the struggle my parents went through just to hold on to it ruined it for me. I hated the land and the horses. I hated that it took my parents from me. I hated the idea of going back to it and turning into the same worn down old man my grandfather was after a life of slaving to it.

So after the farm was sold, all that was left was the matter of reimbursing Bud for my hefty college loans, which seemed completely feasible with the money left over from the sale and once I landed a job. But Bud had other plans. He told me instead, he wanted me to help him write up a new will. Okay, I thought, easy enough. But I knew there had to be more. A will doesn’t repay a man who put you through law school.

“Ninety days,”
he’d said.
“Come work on my farm for ninety days.”

I would’ve rather worked twenty hour days playing associate bitch to some tight-ass attorney than go back to raising and training horses. But Bud insisted, and how could I argue? The man asked so little.

I was also told, when I came to work on his land—hands off the granddaughter.
“Don’t go thinking you can take advantage of my beautiful Edie bug, Johnny. This is business. Hands to yourself,”
he’d warned me.

“That will not be a problem,”
I assured him. What grandfather doesn’t think his granddaughter is beautiful? I figured she probably had a face only a grandfather could love.

Then…I saw her. When I met her at the bar, she was drunk and even that was adorable. That dark hair twisted up, exposing her long neck and creamy skin. Her amazing body; languid, graceful, proportional, and thin. But her eyes,
damn the world,
her eyes are so beautiful. Big brown ones with the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen.

But it was the morning after that, when I showed up at her house and she answered the door in that fucking excuse of a T-shirt and those sexy-ass lace panties, that I cursed Bud’s name,
may he rest in peace.

“I mean it, son. My girl’s an innocent. Don’t be putting your fancy moves on her or I’ll kick your ass.”
I had no doubt he would, too. Bud James was one of the nicest men I’d ever met, but I had heard stories from my grandfather, Pop Pop, about Bud kicking ass and taking names back in his heyday. While at war, to blow off steam, the soldiers would have their version of fight club. Apparently, Bud was quite the brawler.

I left that meeting with him laughing.
I had just been threatened by an eighty-something-year-old man because he was worried I’d make a move on his granddaughter. How funny.

I’m a giant asshole.

Why?

Because from the moment I saw Edie James in her little T-shirt and panties, I’ve been fighting a hard on. What. The. Fuck? I feel like I was gravely misinformed by my client. Did he do this to mess with me?
Oh, come spend three months working at my farm and don’t you dare look at my sexy-ass granddaughter.

Bud was a very dear friend of my parents, he was in World War II with my grandfather and always checked in on us after Pop Pop passed away. My parents died in a boating accident when I was a junior in college. I didn’t know the farm was in trouble and that the very boat they died on was about to be sold as my parents made a last ditch effort to sell off anything they could to save the farm. They were taking one last spin in the boat before selling it when they died. Bud swooped
in, saved the farm and paid my way through school. I will forever be grateful to him.

Although, not as much as I initially thought. It was my gratitude Bud knew would make me keep my word. Make me leave his precious Edie alone.

When I found out he’d passed a week before he had planned to introduce me to Edie, I felt lost. It was like losing another family member. The man saved my life. He did. No matter how much money or back breaking summers I could have given him, it would never really repay him. Not in my mind anyway.

Unfortunately, the past day all I’ve been able to think about is his precious Edie. The image of her running to her bedroom after realizing she had barely anything on has been playing on repeat in my mind all night long. Her ass…yeah….in cheeky panties. Yeah, I was pretty much done for.

No matter what my physical attraction to her is, she represents everything I have fought to get away from. She’s not a hillbilly or anything, but she
is
a farm girl through and through. It’s her life and even if she didn’t dislike me, we could never be more than friends, and I’m not sure if we could even be that.

Even if my feelings regarding our differences weren’t an issue, hers would be. For starters, she thinks I’m some stuck-up legal person. She keeps calling me ‘suit.’ What the fuck is that? Secondly, it appears I’m not the only Edie James fan around judging by the fuckwad that rolled into her dining room in nothing but a towel. I recognize a man trying to mark his territory when I see it and although she said they weren’t together, he apparently feels differently. Like I care. Thirdly, she’s an innocent. She’s not like other women, trying to dress sexy and flaunting themselves. If I had to guess, she’s a virgin, but even if she isn’t, she doesn’t appear to be a woman with a lot of life experience.

So there are plenty of reasons and obstacles to keep me from being anything more than a hired hand for Edie James. And the closer I get to my impending doom, to having to actually go and stay on her farm, the more I dread the whole situation. 

Before I head to her farm, I stop by Carl Wayward’s office. There’s a café across the street where he asked me to meet him.

“Morning, John,” Carl greets me from where he sits in an old booth. The café is aged; looks like it hasn’t been remodeled since the seventies.

“Good morning,” I answer. As I sit, a pretty blonde waitress approaches and smiles at me. She twirls the length of her ponytail between her fingers as her gaze fixes on me.

“Would you like a menu?”

“No, just coffee. Thank you.” I nod with a wink. Her cheeks flush pink and she scurries away to get my drink.

“Thanks for meeting me, John. I wanted to know if we could have a talk, friend to friend, you know, off the books here.”

“Sure.” I shrug as I unbutton my suit jacket and sit back.

“You seem like a good man, John. Bud obviously thought so. But I feel like since he’s passed away, someone needs to look out for Edie. I know you two haven’t started out on the best foot, but she is a wonderful girl.”

“I’m sure she is,” I agree.

“Well, she’s not like the other young ladies in this town. That farm has kept her sheltered in a lot of ways and I’m worried how she’ll cope with Bud gone now.” For some reason an image of Edie running away from me in her cheeky panties dances through my mind. I want to laugh at his description of her. I mean yes, she does seem sheltered and innocent, but she can certainly hold her own. All I’ve gotten is attitude from her since we met. Carl sips his coffee as our waitress places mine on the table.

“Thank you.” I wink at her again and she giggles. She looks about seventeen so her reaction is cute.

“You’re saying she’s innocent?” I try to clarify. He didn’t need to meet me for coffee to tell me that. It’s pretty freaking obvious.

“Well, yes. I’m sure Bud will haunt me for this, but I hope you two can be friends. Maybe you can get her out and show her a few things. I just don’t want her to hide away. She’s had to take care of Bud and the farm for the last few years and hasn’t really had a chance to…live.”

I run a wide palm over my face. “You know she hates me, right? She would do anything to get out of this arrangement. You’re sure there’s no way for me to get out of this?”

Carl chuckles and shakes his head. “John, we both know if you tried to fight this through the courts you could easily get out of this and just pay Edie the money you owed Bud, but would you want to do that? Bud had his reasons for doing this, they may not make sense to us now and maybe they never will, but it’s what he wanted. I guess it’s up to you if you want to honor your agreement or not.”

I stare out the window beside our booth, guilt and anxiety swimming in my head. He’s right. No judge would hold this up, and I seriously doubt Edie would fight me on it anyway. But I owe Bud this. I made him a promise and I intend to keep it.

“Don’t worry, Carl. Yes, Edie and I had a rather…shaky introduction, but we’ll get past it and I’m sure we’ll be great friends.” I hope so anyway. Otherwise, this is set to be the summer from hell.

“Well, good luck, son. I know it’ll be a long three months for you.” Carl shakes my hand and stands. “Gotta get to work.” He tosses a ten dollar bill on the table. “I’ll see you around.”

I finish my coffee shortly after he leaves and head to my car. Time to face the music.

I arrive at Crosslands Farm at eight in the morning. Yearlings frolic and play in the field that lines the left side of the driveway and a foal tromps around its mother in the field to the right. I drive my BMW slowly up the long gravel driveway to keep any rocks from flying up and dinging the paint of my car, and park it beside some shitty looking Chevy truck that looks like it should’ve been sent to the junkyard years ago. Dust still lingers from where my car kicked it up as I drove up the driveway and I shake my head. Might as well forget about keeping my car clean while I’m here.

Glancing around the land, I can’t deny the uneasy feeling that knots in my stomach. Her farm has everything my
family’s did. The large barn and stables, the breaking pen, the racetrack, and the pastures. This isn’t a fancy farm, it’s worn with age, but that’s what gives it real character. Given the volume of training Bud had done throughout the years, I’m surprised he hadn’t spent more money on the upkeep, but I imagine he was exactly like my grandfather, cheap as hell and using everything until it couldn’t be used anymore. I notice one of the boards in the fence surrounding the pasture is split and I instantly snicker. A memory surfaces of summers where Pop Pop would drag me out to help him fix such things. Horses were always jumping the fence, as racehorses do from time to time, and we’d have to go chase them down and bring them back, then repair the fence. He always hated doing it and I remember chuckling as he’d gripe and swear like a sailor. I miss that grumpy old bastard.