Slightly South of Simple Read online

  Despite my happy feelings, the warning bells rang in my mind. I had realized decades earlier that a part of me would always love Jack. But my love for him couldn’t begin to touch my love for my girls. Yes, they were encouraging me to date. But my motherly instinct told me that this wasn’t the right time to bring someone new into their lives. They had enough turmoil. Plus, I couldn’t be sure since I’d never been through this, but I felt pretty certain that you didn’t introduce a man to your children until you were very serious. Jack and I hadn’t even been on a date.

  “Jack,” I said softly. “Would it be OK if I waited awhile before I introduced you to the girls?”

  He stopped walking and was looking at me. “Oh, yes. Of course. Sorry.” He shook his head. “I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s just that it has always felt so easy to be with you.”

  I nodded. It had. It was natural, like sliding back into a great-fitting pair of sunglasses that you had lost and then found again.

  As I approached the hunk of junk that was supposed to be a boat one day, my stomach turned again, for a different reason. I had vision, but honestly, I wasn’t sure about this one.

  “Ansley!”

  “Sheldon!” He was sanding the front of the boat.

  He embraced me in a big, sweaty hug that, frankly, I could have done without. “So are you the high priestess of teak stain? That’s what I’m told.”

  I laughed and looked at Jack. “Why, thank you, sir.”

  He tipped a fake hat at me.

  I reached my leg over the side of the boat, my patent-leather-wedge-clad foot tapping the deck.

  “Ma’am,” Sheldon said. “I’m not sure about your footwear.”

  I lifted my foot. “See? Rubber soles.”

  “That’s a real woman,” Sheldon said, handing me three pieces of teak. I pretended to study them, but in reality, I made up my mind the moment I saw them. I handed him back the one in the middle.

  “Wow,” Jack said. “I looked at those for like forty-five minutes before I came to get you. What do I owe you?”

  I shook my head and looked at him. “You’ve given me enough, Jack.”

  I turned to walk back to the store, and he followed me, matching my pace, our legs moving in sync. “Can I take you to lunch?” he asked.

  I had so much to do. It pained me to say, “I need to get back to work.”

  His face fell, and I couldn’t stand that I had been the one to make it do that. So I said, “Well, maybe we could grab a quick bite.”

  He smiled and offered his arm to me again, and, just like that, I was giddy and carefree.

  “I’ll have your mood boards ready tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll get a feel for what you want, and then we’ll go from there.”

  He stopped walking and said, “I want whatever you want, Ansley.”

  And I knew right then and there, despite my fear, despite my hesitation, despite the queasy feeling in my stomach, that I wanted much, much more.

  FOURTEEN

  short straw

  caroline

  I used every trick I had to try to get Emerson to move to Manhattan instead of LA. I mean, sure, anyone could see that if you wanted to be on TV, LA was probably the spot. But there was Broadway. And off Broadway. And way, way off Broadway.

  I always said things like “You can get Chinese food at two a.m.!” But when had I ever gotten Chinese food at two a.m.? I didn’t like Chinese food. I did, however, like the energy. It felt like everyone was on a mission, had a purpose. Here, it was kind of like people were meandering around until they died. I mean, yeah, they had to walk their dog or whatever. Catch some fish for dinner. But that was about it. Usually, this would have driven me insane. Now, though, I was nesting. So it was actually kind of appealing.

  I was in the guesthouse by myself. Vivi was in the main house playing with Adam and Taylor, which made me very happy. You wonder how your kid is going to adapt after being an only child for so long. Seeing how much she loved her cousins, I got the feeling that my girl was going to be all right.

  What was not going to be all right was this crib. One, I was gigantic. Two, I had never used a tool in my life. Three, all I could think about was the fact that my husband had just appeared on TV with another woman, and the entire country, it felt like, was talking about what an idiot I was, knocked up and hiding out while my husband was gallivanting around. It felt like he had won. And I hated losing. Hated it. I finally threw the directions into the air and marched down the stairs, over to the main house.

  “I am not suited for crib construction,” I said very dramatically, before thrusting myself onto a chaise, hand over forehead.

  It wasn’t until afterward that I realized Kimmy and Kyle were standing in the living room.

  I sat up sheepishly. “Sorry,” I said.

  Kyle said, “Perfect timing. This is a decaf, low-sugar, dairy-free creation for the mother-to-be. It has rooibos tea, which I read Indian women drink to keep their iron levels up during pregnancy.”

  I took a sip and gasped. “Kyle! You have outdone yourself! This is heaven in a cup.”

  He grinned. God, he was good-looking. I winked at Emerson, who grinned back at me. For a split second, I considered that maybe I could have a little rebound fling with Kyle. It was probably the pregnancy hormones talking. Probably.

  “Let me get a pic,” Emerson said. “We need to commemorate the moment that my sister realized there was life—and coffee—outside of New York City.”

  I motioned to her. “Come get in, too!”

  “OK,” Kimmy said, annoyance lacing her voice. “I suppose I’ll take the picture, then.”

  “Take a few,” I said, twisting this way and that like a belly dancer to see which angle made me look thinnest.

  “OK,” Em said. “Last one! Double kisses!”

  I threw my arms around Kyle’s neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. Emmy much more demurely pecked his other cheek.

  “Thanks, Kyle,” I said. “This has really brightened my day. Now, if I could find a way to get Ladies Who Lunch off the air, that would really cap it off.”

  “Yeah, that sucks,” Kyle said. “What idiot would leave you?”

  “Evidently, you would,” I said.

  He furrowed his brow but continued to smile.

  I pointed to my stomach. “The rumor around town is that my baby could potentially be yours, and Emmy and I are in a family feud because you dumped me for her.”

  “Wow,” Kyle said. “I am the man.”

  Sloane walked through the front door with some other hottie. I mean, Kyle was a young hottie. This guy was kind of old. Like Mom’s age. I had to investigate.

  “Hi,” I said, reaching out my hand. “I’m Caroline.”

  He had deep brown eyes, distinguished-looking eyebrows, and a nose that was appropriately large for making him look very masculine. And he was wearing shorts, so you could tell that his legs were tan and muscular. But I got this weird feeling like I knew him. Which, of course, I probably did from when we lived in Peachtree before.

  He smiled, those eyes dazzling me. “You must be the actress,” he said, laughing.

  It took me a moment to figure out why that was funny. “Oh, I get it,” I said. “As opposed to the pregnant one. Nope, I’m definitely the pregnant one.”

  “Jack is looking for Mom,” Sloane said.

  “I just wanted to drop off her sweater. She left it on my boat.”

  I guess I didn’t hide my shock that my mother had left her clothing on some strange man’s boat. And, obviously, he was a man that she knew well enough to tell him all about us.

  He laughed again. “Your mom’s my decorator. She came by the boat this morning to pick out a stain.”

  Still. Mom should really explore that. Sloane had obviously had the same thought, because it was clear she had trapped him here. This guy looked like he wanted to get the hell away. And fast. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be standing in our kitchen if Sloane hadn’t sweet-talked him in some way. />
  I did a quick hand check. No ring. And I liked him right away, which is really saying something, because I generally like no one. I looked at him intently. “Are you married?”

  “No.”

  “Dating anyone serious?” Sloane chimed in.

  He looked back and forth between us. “Am I on some sort of trial here?”

  “Yes, you are,” Sloane said seriously.

  He pointed to the door. “Maybe I should be wearing a tie for this.”

  Emerson caught my attention. She was chomping on something, thank God. Maybe she would live until next week when the movie started filming.

  That gave me an idea. “So our little Emmy is starting her new movie, and Sloane and I are having a dinner party to celebrate.”

  “We are?” Sloane said. I gave her my sternest look. She caught on. “Oh,” she said. “I mean, we are. Yes. And we’d love it if you would come.”

  “Oh,” he said. “Shouldn’t you ask your mother?”

  “Our mother is not capable of deciding what is good for her,” Emerson said. “So we are stepping in.”

  “Yeah, it’s kind of like an intervention,” I said.

  He smiled and looked very pleased by all of this. “I will come if you promise you’ll ask your mother if it’s OK first.”

  “Oh, sure, sure,” I lied. Which was when I had my brilliant idea. “Actually, though, we have one more hurdle for you to jump before you are officially invited.”

  He crossed his arms, looking less terrified and more amused now. He had these great dimples. I know great dimples, because I have them. His weren’t quite as good as mine but pretty good. “I’m up for it. I am certain.”

  I took his arm and began leading him through the house. “How are you at crib assembly?”

  He put his arm around me in a way that should have been entirely too friendly for someone I had met three minutes before in the foyer. But he squeezed me to his side and said, “Caroline, for you, I’ll even put a crib together.”

  He did. And there weren’t even any pieces left over, which was comforting. That was when I knew for sure that Mom had better not screw this one up.

  * * *

  WE ALL GOT A little messed up when Dad died. Mom made us go to therapy, even though she wouldn’t ever go, which I thought was incredibly unfair. Anyone could see that she was drowning. Sloane was terrified even to come out of her room. Emerson was crying in her sleep. But me? I was OK. Super sad, obviously. But not totally unglued like the others.

  At the time, the fact that I developed this intense germophobia right after 9/11 didn’t seem related. I couldn’t ride the subway and held on with antibacterial wipes if I had to. I would only get into a cab if I was wearing pants. I wouldn’t shake anyone’s hand and got jittery in crowds. It honestly took me years to realize that perhaps this was somehow related to Dad’s death.

  But now I think it’s too late. Being outside in the truly fresh air of Peachtree Bluff helped ease my panic, but I wasn’t cured or anything. And Mom definitely drew the short straw that day. I could feel my palms starting to sweat as we got into the car that afternoon. She cranked the ignition, and as we were getting ready to pull out, the back door flung open. “I’m coming, too!” Emerson said.

  I looked back at her. “You’re leaving Sloane with all the kids?”

  She raised her eyebrows, as if to say They’re not my kids. “Vivi is holding a sidewalk chalk workshop, and Sloane is catching a few rays. I’m pretty sure they’re covered.”

  “You must be hard up if you’re willing to come tour the hospital with us instead.” I paused. “By the way, any new men in your life?” I looked at her pointedly.

  Mom glanced over her shoulder to back out of the driveway and said, “I swear, you girls are going to be the absolute death of me.”

  Emerson laughed. “Sorry, Mom. But there are no guys. I don’t have time for guys. I feel like with this movie, I’m finally going to gain some ground.”

  “You’ve already gained ground,” I said. “I think sometimes you’re so busy looking toward the top of the ladder you forget how many rungs you have already climbed.”

  “That’s true,” Mom chimed in. “Emerson, you’re supporting yourself as an actress. You have steady work. Do you know how amazing that is?”

  She smiled happily. “Yeah. That is pretty cool. But I just feel like in a couple more years, my career will be on stable ground, and then I can worry about love and all that.”

  “Speaking of,” I said. “Mom, we have all agreed that you should marry Jack immediately if not sooner.”

  Her face went kind of white at the mention of his name, which was a weird reaction, if you asked me. Knowing her, I would have guessed that an on-trend shade of plum would be more fitting.

  “Where did you meet him?”

  I thought she was just embarrassed, but then I realized she was something more like mad.

  I reached into my bag to get a Preggie Pop. I didn’t have morning sickness anymore, but I was kind of addicted to the things. I handed Mom one, too. She looked sort of morning sick. Much to my surprise, she pulled the wrapper off and put it in her mouth.

  “He came by earlier,” Emmy said. “He brought your sweater.”

  “He may or may not have put together the baby’s crib.”

  “He came to our house?” Mom asked.

  Now I realized she wasn’t mad, exactly. Maybe more like confused. Incredulous, even. Fortunately, I was so distracted that I had barely realized we were pulling into the hospital parking lot. But when I did, my entire body went cold.

  Mom put the car in park, and I saw the look she gave Emerson. “Let’s get out of the car.”

  “And while we’re walking in, you’ll tell us all about Jack?” I asked.

  “Wait,” Emmy said. “So there’s a story?”

  There’s always a story, I thought. But I couldn’t say it.

  Now I was hot. I pulled my maternity dress in and out a few times. Maternity dresses really were tragic. They were probably all designed by men to make you look like an absolute cow.

  Emerson opened the car door and took my sweaty hand. “You know what?” I said. “I’m fine. I don’t need to see the hospital.”

  Mom was now beside Emerson, coaxing me. “Sweetie, you are going to feel more anxious if you haven’t seen where you’re giving birth. Let’s take a quick peek at the room, and then we’ll get out of here.” She smiled. “And I’ll tell you all about how Jack and I dated a couple of summers during high school.”

  I perked up at that. “Really? Was he your first love?” First love stories are my favorite. I gave her a withering look. “Are you just saying this to get me to go in there?”

  “No.” She waved her hand at me.

  I leaned over and started breathing heavily.

  “OK, OK,” she said. “Yes. He was my first love.”

  I got out of the car.

  “We met in Peachtree, actually,” she said. “He was sixteen, and I was fifteen.”

  “Was he your first kiss?” Emerson asked.

  Mom put her hand on the small of my back and led me through the automatic doors. It was as though I could feel the millions of germs leap onto my body. I needed to go home and get into the shower. Oh, God, I had worn my new wedges. Now they were ruined. Everyone knew that once you wore shoes in a hospital, you had to throw them away.

  “He was my first kiss,” she said, while Emerson grabbed a nurse and spoke to her tersely.

  The nurse jumped in and said, “Ms. Caroline, we are so glad to have you here.” You could tell that she started to put out her hand and then withdrew it. She had obviously been told that I had no doubt she was highly infected with something disgusting. Probably hospital-acquired pneumonia. Yup. That’s what it looked like to me.

  “This is our brand-new, state-of-the-art facility, and the good news is that you will likely be only the third or fourth person ever to give birth in this room.”

  My breath was getting shorter.r />
  “Relax, Caroline,” my mom said.

  Have you ever noticed how someone telling you to relax makes you more uptight?

  Emerson appeared beside me and handed me a cup of water.

  “Have you completely lost your mind? Do you honestly think that I would drink hospital water?”

  “OK,” the nurse said. “Here it is. Your big, beautiful birthing suite.”

  There was a curtain. I looked at my mom. I didn’t have to say another word. “Ma’am,” she said, “is it possible to get that curtain taken down when Caroline is here?”

  She scrunched up her face. “It’s here to give Ms. Caroline some privacy.”

  I felt my strength returning. “No, that’s a great idea,” I said. “So my doctor washes his hands over here, touches this MRSA-infected curtain, and then comes and delivers my baby, transmitting deadly bacteria not only to the baby but also to me. That sounds like a swell idea. Has anyone in this hospital ever seen an OSHA report?”

  “Oooo-K,” Emerson said. “Mom, I’m going to take Caroline to the car now.” She made a face at the nurse like she was sorry, but they should be sorry. Imbeciles, every last one. No wonder people came into the hospital and didn’t make it out.

  “I’m going to have a home birth,” I said. “My midwife, Hummus, is coming anyway, and we can get one of those big birthing tubs and put it in the living room. It will be great. Everyone can help.” (Yes, my midwife was named Hummus.)

  Emerson led me back through the double doors, and I started to relax immediately. I knew already that by the time I came to this hospital again, I wouldn’t feel like this. I would be in intense labor, and I wouldn’t care if I lay down in the parking lot to give birth.

  “But, honey,” Emerson said, “then you won’t be able to have an epidural.”

  Good call. I realized that my phone was ringing in my pocket, and I silently prayed it wasn’t James. I couldn’t take one more thing today. Nope. My friend Lucinda.

  “Hi there,” I said. I knew I sounded weird and winded.

  “Are you OK?” she asked.