Chapter Twenty-Two

Landon

 

We roll in front of my parent’s house at ten of six. “Never apologize for being early,” my father always told me. “But be damn sure you’re never late.”

Luci was raised the same way and would have been ready an hour early if I didn’t keep stripping her out of her clothes every time she attempted to get dressed.

I step out of my dark blue Maserati, stretching as I breathe in the salty sea. My parent’s house is a short walk from the shore, but not on the beach like mine. They like the view from their bedroom and rooftop terrace, but preferred some distance from the water should a hurricane hit. I pause mid-stretch when I see Luci inch out, her gaze alternating between the large stretch of lawn where weeping willows, palmettos, and dogwoods spread out to create a picturesque garden straight out of a classic portrait, to the light brick house I grew up in.

“How you doing, baby?” I ask. I come to her side and lift the dish of rosemary potatoes out of her hands. She’d planned to bring dessert, but changed her mind when Momma texted to say she’d baked several pies.

“I’m all right,” she says, in a way I don’t quite believe her. Her gaze lifts up toward the house. “This is beautiful,” she says.

“Yeah, it is.” I shut the passenger side door as she eases away. “Momma has a way with plants and gardening.”

“She did this herself?” Luci asks.

I reach for her hand and lead her up the brick steps when she hesitates. “She did. It’s been her passion forever and one of the many things she did to make this house a home.”

“It’s amazing,” she says.

She means it, but I don’t like how she seems to curl inward. My parent’s place is larger than mine, and the property that much grander. That doesn’t mean the kindness is any less, and my father proves as much when he opens the door. “Well, look who’s here,” he says.

The scrutiny he first met Luci with vanished four blushes into our first dinner. Now, only a big smile remains. “How y’all doing?”

“Good, sir,” I reply, noting another blush from Luci and how that widens Daddy’s grin.

“You have a lovely home—”

Daddy pulls her into a bear hug, cutting her off. “Silvie, Silvie. Landon and Luci are here!” he yells, placing his arm around her and leading her inside.

I walk beside them, trying not to chuckle at the way Luci takes in the foyer. A winding staircase leads to the second level where the bedrooms are, while another leads down to the basement bar, game room, and screening area. “Are we eating outside or in?”

“Outside,” Trin calls, hurrying out to the kitchen.

“Pool or terrace?” I ask marching forward.

“Pool,” Momma calls from the kitchen.

“Hey, Luci,” Trin says. She gives her one of those cheeky kisses girls do. “Oh, what did y’all make? I told y’all you didn’t have to bring anything.”

“Herb potatoes, but that was all, Luci,” I answer.

“It was no trouble—”

Trin cuts her off. “Momma, Luci made herb potatoes,” she yells. “Wasn’t that sweet?”

“So sweet,” Momma says. She rushes forward, her long white hair that she keeps in a braid dangled thrown over her shoulder and the floral apron she’s had forever firmly in place.

“Hi, Luci,” she says. “Don’t you look, pretty. Hi, baby,” she adds when she sees me.

“Hi, Momma.” I bend down to give her a kiss, avoiding the large dish she’s carrying. Once more Luci tries to tell them she has a nice home, once more she’s denied. “Dinner is ready. Let’s get downstairs. Becca will be here soon.”

“Becca’s coming?” I ask.

The excitement in Trin’s smile fades. “She needs to,” she says. She looks to Luci. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, of course not,” Luci says.

“Aw, honey,” Trin says. “Thank you. But if you’re going to be heard around here, you have to be louder than that.” She ushers us toward the stairs. “We’re right behind you, we just need to carry a few things down.”

“Here, sugar, let me take that,” Daddy says.

“Luci, do your potatoes need warming?” Momma asks.

“A little,” Luci says. She smiles although she seems overwhelmed.

“Landon, be a dear and use the downstairs oven,” Momma says. “The two in the kitchen are full.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

We follow Daddy down to the outside dining area overlooking the pool. “You have a lovely home,” Luci says.

Bless her heart, this time, someone hears her. “Thank you,” Daddy says.

He turns to where Callahan is drying off his son. “Landon, Luci,” Callahan says with a tilt of his chin.

“Hey,” I say over Luci’s quiet, “hello”.

I place the potatoes in the outside oven and crank the heat, bending down when Callahan sets my nephew on the floor. “Where’s my buddy?”

Cal, Jr., grins and wobbles toward me, laughing when I swoop him in my arms. Like me, his attention turns toward Luci, and also like me, he appears to come alive when he catches her smile.

Momma and Trin make about three trips up and down the stairs and refusing help like always. “Becca says to start without her,” Trin calls on her last trip.

I sit next to Luci opposite Trin, Callahan, and Cal, Jr., in his high chair. Daddy and Momma sit at the heads of the table. We say grace like good Christians and start talking like bad ones the minute we begin to pass the food.

“Have y’all been skinny dipping at the lake yet?” Trin asks. “Callahan and I tried to go a few weeks ago, but it was still too cold.”

Callahan swallows his first bite of roast like it pains him, because it actually does.

Luci pauses with a spoonful of creamed spinach hovering over her plate. Her face as red as the dress she’s wearing.

Daddy frowns. “It’s always cold at that lake. Why do you think we have a heated pool?” Daddy asks.

“So your grandson can swim in it all year?” Callahan asks, no, more like begs him to answer.

Momma nods thoughtfully. “Well, yes,” she agrees. “But also so we can go skinny dipping.”

“Momma,” I say, covering my mouth with my napkin and trying not to crack up when I catch sight of Luci’s slacking jaw.

“Oh, I’m sorry Landon,” Momma says. “You didn’t get any corn.” She offers the dish to Luci. “Landon has always loved corn.”

“Um,” Luci says, or rather squeaks.

“You done with the spinach, Luci?” Daddy asks.

It’s only then Luci lowers her spoon, passing the spinach along before lifting the dish filled with corn from my mother’s grasp.

“I remember the first time Callahan and I went skinny-dipping,” Trin says, because God forbid she lets the conversation go. “It was in Papua, New Guinea.” She looks at Callahan, head down and shoveling food in his mouth for all he’s worth. “Or was it Ecuador?” She holds out her hands, all excited like, right in the middle of spooning bits of sweet potatoes into Cal, Jr.’s mouth. “No, I think it might have been in this very pool.”

Daddy nods. “I can see that. Salt water is good for the skin.”

Callahan looks up from his plate, his expression as heavy as any who’s shared as many meals as he has with my family. “I’d like to say it gets better,” he tells Luci. “It doesn’t.”

Trin rubs his back, smiling. “He’s just shy, is all.”

He pretends to narrow his eyes, but doesn’t quite manage. Family full of crazy or not, he loves Trin, and would marry her a hundred times over if he could. To prove my point, he hooks an arm around her shoulder and kisses her cheek, making her laugh. I look over at Luci who’s barely touched the small amount of food she served herself. I fork a piece of crown roast and add it to her plate.

“Eat,” I say. “The night is still young and there are plenty more stories to come.”

She doesn’t quite take her first bite when Becca bounces down the steps. “Hey, y’all,” she says.

She’s as enthusiastic as always, but the hug she greets Trin with lasts a little longer than it should and so does the embrace she gives Momma. Momma sweeps Becca’s long hair over her shoulder. “You’re going to be okay,” Momma whispers.

Becca nods in that way women do when they don’t quite believe what they hear, but know if they don’t agree they’ll just break down and cry. She composes herself quickly, greeting Callahan and Daddy. I try to catch her eye when I hug her, but she averts her gaze and smiles at Luci. “Well, hello there, Luci. Nice to see you, shug.”

“Nice to see you, too, Becca,” Luci says.

Becca scoots her chair forward. “What did I miss?” she asks, smiling when Momma passes the first of about twenty dishes she and Trin set out.

“Nothing, the usual, how much I love corn and where everyone skinny-dips,” I offer. Hey, they’re going to say it anyway, might as well beat them to the punch.

Becca frowns. “The lake still too cold this time of year?”

“It is,” Trin says. “I don’t remember it being this cold in high school.”

“Me either,” Daddy adds. “I remember my friends and I swimming in that thing as early as February one year.”

“I think it’s an age thing,” Becca reasons. “Lord, once I hit twenty-six I couldn’t tolerate water colder than eighty-degrees.”

My family mumbles in agreement, nodding like they can relate.

“How’s the law office?” Becca asks, cutting the piece of roast she snagged.

“Good, busy,” I reply. “I have a few immigration cases I’m trying to sort through. Each one is worse than the next.”

“I’ll bet,” Becca says, making a face. “So much for give me ‘your tired, your poor. Your huddled masses.’”

My family and I nod, this time with less enthusiasm. “How’s Mr. Ballantyne, Luci? I swear I haven’t seen him and his wife in ages.”

“He’s fine,” Luci replies slowly.

I lower my fork as I realize why Luci answers the way she does. But it’s Trin who asks the question I’m suddenly dying to know. “Becks, how did you know Luci works with Landon?”

Becca wipes her mouth, but doesn’t quite wipe off her grin. “You didn’t,” Trin tells her.

Becca smiles at me.

“No,” I say, glancing from Luci’s stunned expression back to Becca’s all-too-knowing one.

She laughs. “Someone had to say something, Landon. Lord knows you’d all but given up.”

“I don’t believe you, Becca.” That’s not true. I do. I just can’t believe I didn’t figure it out before.

“Nine women, Landon,” she reminds me. “I introduced you to nine women dying to meet you and where did your eyes go wandering off to? This young lady right here. You’re welcome,” she adds, pointing.

“You didn’t see us,” I argue, trying to make sense of it all.

“Oh, yes, I did,” Becca fires back. “Mm, good roast, Momma.”

“You left,” I remind her over Momma’s thank you.

“True, but I have security cameras for a reason.”

“To spy on your guests?” I offer.

“Well, yeah,” Becca says. “I don’t want people stealing my shit.”

Again, my family whole-heartedly agrees.

“I didn’t see what happened when you went out there on the terrace, but I did see the footage of you leaving holding hands and neither of you coming back,” Becca admits. “I also did some prying and talked to a few people.”

“Ivy Lionelle?” Trin asks.

Hell, that’s my guess, too.

“No, Darlene Sotta,” Becca clarifies. “Ivy’s always been too gossipy.” She angles her head to better see Luci. “And Blythe, but she probably told you as much.”

Luci shakes her head. “Wow, I . . . wow.”

Becca laughs again. “When Mr. Ballantyne needed someone to make them look good, and you needed a job, Landon, I thought it was the perfect solution. Worst case scenario nothing happens, you go elsewhere, life goes on.”

“And best?” Trin asks, glancing at Luci.

Becca’s voice softens. “Landon gets the smile he went too long without.”

The table becomes a buzz of conversation, about me and Luci, and Becca’s involvement, Cal, Jr. and how Callahan and Daddy are going to start extending the house so they’ll have more room when the baby comes. But my thoughts stay on Becca and the gift she handed me, wrapped in a sweet bow.

“What about you?” I ask Becca quietly. “How do we find your smile?”

I expect her to make a joke and laugh it off. When she doesn’t, I realize she’s worse off than I thought. She takes a sip of her water and then lowers it carefully back down. “I don’t know,” she admits, her voice a little lighter and a lot less confident.

I shouldn’t say what I do, but it comes all the same. “Do you think Hale might know where it is?”

That same glimpse of sadness she showed Momma makes an appearance. “If he does, I doubt he’d show me the way. That man stopped giving a damn about me a long time ago.”

I look at Luci and give her hand a squeeze, practically melting when she meets me with her warm gaze.

“I don’t agree,” I tell Becca, lifting the hand carefully grasped in mine. “Sometimes, you just need the right chance.”