The scent of flowers was overpowering. They were everywhere, on the windowsill, on the countertop, flanking the door, on the bedside table.
Lying in the narrow hospital bed surrounded by bouquets, B.J. looked like a queen. Restless, Maxie prowled the room reading the tags on the flowers. Most of them were from B.J.’s adoring husband, but there was a lush arrangement of gardenias from Helen and Brick Sullivan. The two dozen pink roses had a tag signed, Kathleen, Hunter and little Miss Annmarie La Farge.
Maxie had driven to New Orleans when Annmarie was born, a beautiful pink and cream baby with Hunter’s stubborn chin and her mother’s beautiful eyes. B. J. would have gone, too, but she was too far along in her own pregnancy to risk it.
As soon as the baby was old enough to travel, the La Farge family would be diving their time between the States and Africa.
“You’ll have to come see us there,” Kathleen had said, with Hunter echoing the invitation.
Maxie wished she were in Africa right now, somewhere far, far away from Joe and the danger he represented.
Suddenly she felt such a stab of envy she was ashamed of herself. All the Forever Friends were happily married with children except her. With her track record, she was likely to still be single and childless while the other three were celebrating graduations and weddings for their children, then grandchildren of their own and golden anniversaries.
She felt like a great big failure and a party pooper besides. Dragging a chair to the bedside, she forced cheer into her voice.
“So, how’s the new mother?”
“I’m great, but you look like a cat that’s lost eight of its lives. What’s wrong?”
Maxie sighed. She could never fool her sister.
“Nothing.”
“Who are you kidding? Even that sensational outfit can’t disguise the fact that you’re in the doldrums. Where’ve you been, dressed like that, anyhow? Auditioning for something?”
“I guess you could call it that.”
Maxie plucked a rose out of the vase on the bedside table and put it between her teeth. Then she twirled around the room.
“Just call me Gypsy Rose Lee.”
“The stripper? Don’t tell me. You ditched your underwear again.”
“Had to. It was driving me crazy.”
“And then?”
“Then what?”
“Come on, Maxie. There’s more to the story. What’s the real reason you came up here tonight looking as if somebody’s put out a contract and you’re the target?”
“That’s what I feel like. The target.”
“Whose?”
“You’re not going to like this.”
“Try me.”
“Joseph’s.”
“Joe? Not Joe. Come on, you’ve got to be kidding.”
“Maybe exaggerating a little.”
“That’s no news flash. You always exaggerate. Drama is in your blood. I always expected you to become an actress, like Helen.”
B.J. patted the covers on her bed. “Hop up here and we’ll have one of those sister-to-sister talks we both can’t live without.”
Maxie tucked the rose back into the vase and hopped onto the bed. B. J. giggled like a teenager. It was wonderful to see her sister so happy. Up until fate had plopped Joseph smack into the middle of her life, Maxie had been happy.
Or at least she’d thought so. Now she didn’t know happy from sad, right from left, up from down.
“Okay, tell your story—with as little exaggeration as possible, please.”
“I had a meeting with Joe tonight to plan the baby’s party.... No, wait.... That’s not the beginning. It all started last night.... No. That’s not right, either.”
“This sounds serious.” B. J. studied her sister closely. “Maxie, what’s going on between you and my brother-in-law? “
“Nothing. I swear to you, nothing is going on between us.”
“Whoa. You don’t have to sound so defensive.”
“I’m not defensive.”
“Yes, you are. You act as if I’m going to bite your head off or something.”
“Or something. Kill me, maybe. Or string me up by the toes to a magnolia tree and leave me for the birds to peck out my eyes and all my good parts.”
“Good grief. I never heard of anything so ridiculous. Why would I want to do something like that to my own sister?”
“Because I’m going to ruin your beloved brother- in-law.”
“You’re going to ruin Joe? Good Lord, Maxie. What’s the matter with you? He’s one of the nicest, kindest, most decent men I’ve ever known. There’s not a mean bone in his body. He’s smart too. And successful.”
B. J. was so upset, she overturned the water pitcher on her bedside table. Maxie got a towel out of the bathroom and swabbed up the mess.
“See. That’s what I’m talking about. Just the mention of his name linked with mine and you’re ready to send me to Outer Mongolia.”
“Now, wait a minute. You didn’t say anything about the two of you together. You said you were going to ruin him.”
“I ruin every man who comes near me.”
B. J. was not a first-rate attorney for nothing. Maxie’s scattered approach to a subject sometimes clouded the issue, but it didn’t take B. J. long to sort through the extraneous details and get to the heart of the matter.
“Are you telling me that you’ve fallen for Joe?”
“I didn’t say that.” Plopping back onto the bed, Maxie threw up a smoke screen. “How can you possibly think that?”
“Years in a courtroom taught me to read face and body language. Besides, you never could hide your feelings, Maxie.”
“Well, you’ve read wrong. Joseph Beauregard is not at all the kind of man I go for.” She hoped B. J. didn’t see her fingers crossed behind her back.
B. J. studied her sister. “Joe could use a little less control and a little more spontaneity in his life.”
“I thought you thought he was perfect.”
“He is.” B.J. reached for her sister’s hand. “But so are you.”
“He’s not the sort of man I want to ting-a-ling with.”
“What?”
Maxie laughed. “Just an expression of Claude’s.”
“You know, Maxie, I don’t like to talk about your choices in men, but I do wish you’d pick somebody nice like Joe.”
“He’s engaged. Besides, we’re complete opposites. He’s conservative mid-America in a button-down collar, a three-piece suit, and a striped tie. I’m Tahiti in a grass skirt and a coconut-shell bra with a headdress of peacock feathers. He’s earth, I’m air. He’s water, I’m fire. He’s...”
“I didn’t say Joe, I said somebody like him. You always fall for scalawags.”
“They’re decent men until I finish with them. Then they end up on sabbatical in the frozen tundra.”
“What about that CPA you dated? Isn’t he still in Tupelo? He seemed like the reliable sort.”
“He has a terrible flaw.”
“What?”
“He wears saddle oxfords and thinks Julia Roberts was a gourmet cook on a television show.”
“I’m horrified.” B. J. pretended horror, and Maxie grinned.
“When’s the wedding?”
“Whose wedding?”
“Joseph’s.”
“Heaven only knows. They’ve postponed it six times, three each. They’ve been engaged for five years.”
“Good heavens.” Maxie pretended a big yawn to hide her glee.
“It’s not exactly a sizzling love match. Poor Joe.”
“What’s she like?”
“Who?”
“Joseph’s fiancee.”
“What’s with all these questions? I thought the two of you didn’t gee haw.”
“We don’t. Just idle curiosity. That’s all.”
“Be careful, Maxie. Curiosity killed the cat.”