Gloria wrinkled her nose as I slathered lotion on my face, neck, arms, and legs.
“What is that hideous smell?” she cried. “Surely you’re not going to see a client smelling like that.”
“It’s the latest thing,” I said, handing her the tube so she could see. “Deep Woods Off!”
“I take it you’re headed out to Mulberry Hill?” she asked, looking up from the auction catalog she’d been marking up.
“Yup. I’m meeting the furniture truck over there in half an hour. With all the rain we’ve been having, those woods are swarming with skeeters.”
I crossed my fingers. “The HVAC guys got the new heat and air unit installed in the pump house yesterday, and the painters were supposed to have finished up last night, and with any luck, the floors will be dry too.”
“What did you decide to do about the floors?” Gloria asked.
“I had the old brick pressure washed, and they cleaned up really nice. Just slicked ’em up with a matte-finish polyester.”
“Good.” She nodded her approval. “What’s your client think about what you’ve done so far? Is he aware of the miracles you’ve worked on his behalf?”
“Absolutely not,” I said. “He’s livid that we’re three days behind schedule. He wanted to move in on Friday, but the rain delayed everything. Now here it is Monday, and he’s been calling me every few hours for updates. Will just takes it for granted that stuff happens like this all the time. He has no idea that it’s not the normal procedure to take a nasty old brick pump house and turn it into an adorable guest house in under a week.”
“Men,” Gloria said.
“Yeah, but in his defense, he’s been incredibly busy. He’s got some new miracle bra that he’s working on, and it’s going to take totally re-tooling the plant to get it into production. And then there’s Stephanie.”
“His dream date,” Gloria said dryly.
“We’ll see,” I said. “I know they had their first date last week, and I haven’t had the nerve to ask Will how it went.”
“She’s crazy if she doesn’t jump all over him like a tick on a dog,” Gloria said. She smoothed her hair behind one ear. “That Will is just as yummy as they come. Don’t you just want to lick him all over?”
“Gloria!” I said, shocked. “Don’t be vulgar.”
“I speak the truth,” she said, winking. “And you know it.”
“He’s my client, not my john,” I said. “Anyway, he has red hair. And freckles. Furthermore, I am officially done with men.”
“Right…” she drawled.
“I mean it. I’m going to be like you, Glo. Strong, independent, a woman of substance…”
“You mean a shriveled up old maid with a healthy bank account? No. I absolutely forbid it. Anyway, what makes you think I’m done with men?”
“Aren’t you?” I looked at my aunt carefully. “Are you seeing somebody?”
“None of your beeswax,” she said tartly, going back to her catalog. “All I’m saying is, don’t judge all men by A. J. Jernigan. And don’t overlook the obvious.”
“It’s not obvious to me,” I fired back, gathering up a huge tote bag of stuff I was taking out to Mulberry Hill for the installation. I had my tool kit, with an electric screwdriver, tack hammer, pliers, scissors, measuring tape and yardstick, level, stud finder, and assorted nails, tacks, and other picture-hanging doodads. Plus some hand-sanitizing wipes, paper goods, aspirin, cleaning supplies, a huge can of bug spray, and a bottle of Scotch. Will struck me as a Scotch drinker. Not that I am. Can’t stand the stuff.
I’d also packed a cooler with several bottles of water, cheese and crackers, some peaches, a large plastic bag of green seedless grapes, and a bottle of Chardonnay.
“Looks like you’re packing for an expedition to Malaysia,” Gloria observed.
“I don’t want to have to come all the way back into town if I forget anything,” I said, slinging the tote over my shoulder. “And you do realize, I’m totally furnishing this place? Will claims not to have any belongings besides his clothes and a few books that he wants to move in with. So that means the works. Dishes, pots and pans, linens, silverware. You should see the trunk of the Volvo. I had to rig it closed with a bungee cord.”
“We’re billing for all this time, right?” Gloria asked.
“Absolutely. Hourly, plus cost-plus for all the stuff I had to buy. We’re going to have a very nice payday this month.”
“Good thing,” Gloria said. “Our billings are way behind for the year.”
“Still? I thought things were picking back up again. A.J. swore he’d tell his daddy and brother to quit trying to drive us out of business.”
“We did get the carpet in the bank laid and paid for,” Gloria said, frowning. “But it’s just slow. Very slow. And it’s nothing I can put my finger on.”
I sighed. “I can. It’s me. People in this town still can’t get over the fact that I called off the wedding. And it’s so damn unfair. It’s not my fault A. J. Jernigan couldn’t keep it in his pants.”
Gloria got up and walked me to the door. “I’ll tell you a little secret. That’s how all Jernigan men are. Every damn one of ’em.”
My eyes widened. “What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t mean A.J.’s daddy. I don’t believe it. The way people in this town talk? I would have heard something like that. Anyway, GiGi wouldn’t put up with Big Drew’s foolin’ around on her.”
“I mean all of ’em,” Gloria said firmly. “I kept my mouth shut before, since you were marrying into the family. I really thought maybe A.J. was different. But he’s a hound just like all the rest of ’em. A.J.’s granddaddy, Chub? Back in the sixties, when this was still a dry county, there was a place, a roadhouse out there off of 441. It didn’t have an official name, everybody just called it BeBo’s. I was just a little kid, but my mama said nobody nice would ever step foot in BeBo’s. It was where the locals went to drink and dance and whore around. And guess who owned it? Chub Jernigan. And the woman who ran it, her name was Cherie. She was Chub’s mistress. Big Drew wasn’t any better. You know Angela Baker, that ditzy brunette who used to work the drive-up window at the bank? How do you reckon somebody with only an eighth-grade education kept a job at a bank?”
“Angela Baker used to always give me green lollipops when I went with Daddy to make the dealership’s bank deposit,” I said. “Are you saying she was screwing around with Drew?”
“Yes ma’am, and she was just the first in a long line. GiGi knew about it too. She only made Big Drew fire Angela after he tried to promote her to assistant manager.”
“You’re making all of this up,” I accused her. “I’ve lived in Madison my whole life, and I never even heard a whisper about a place like BeBo’s. Or about Chub Jernigan. He was on the County Commission, Glo. And so was Big Drew too. And A.J.’s granddaddy was a vestryman at Church of the Advent. There’s a stained-glass window in his honor. I’ve seen it a hundred times.”
Gloria gave me a sad smile. “It’s not something that gets talked about a lot in polite society, but if you don’t believe me, ask your daddy. He eats breakfast every morning of the year, practically, over there with Big Drew and all the rest of the men at Ye Olde Colonial. I bet he knows a lot worse stuff about the Jernigans than I do. Not that he’d ever say a word to you about it.”
I felt tears rising in my eyes. It was one thing to catch your fiance screwing your best friend, but this was too much. Before the wedding debacle, I really liked A.J.’s family. GiGi had been a dream client. She’d treated me like a real daughter. After my first “official” date with A.J., she’d taken me out to lunch at the club and beamed at me across the table. “I couldn’t be happier about you two,” she’d said then. “A daughter, finally, after all these years.”
And Big Drew was funny and sweet and thoughtful. He’d given me a pair of diamond earrings as an engagement gift, and told me they’d been made out of a pair of Chub’s old cuff links. The thought made me shudder. I bit my lip and brushed away a tear.
“I’m sorry, honey,” Gloria said, giving me a hug. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that stuff. It all happened a long time ago. But I figured you’d probably hear about it sooner or later. And it just makes me so damn mad that the Jernigans are still taking this wedding stuff out on us and our business.”
“It’s okay,” I said, pulling in a deep breath. “You were right to tell me. I’m a big girl. It just came as a shock, that’s all.”
“Thank God you didn’t marry into that bunch, after all,” Gloria said briskly. “I’m not about to let them drive us out of business. Now, I don’t want you worrying about this. I’m sorry I even brought it up. Everything will be fine. This Mulberry Hill job’s gonna put us on the map. You wait and see.”
The shop’s front door opened, and Austin popped his head inside. “Hellooo,” he sang out. “Keeley, are you ready to roll yet? Janey’s minding the store over at my place, but she says she can only stay till five-thirty ’cuz her Wal-Mart shift starts at six. So let’s get going. I cannot wait to see what you’ve done with that old pump house.”
Gloria raised one eyebrow. “You’ve roped Austin into this?”
Austin stepped inside the shop. He was dressed in a pair of immaculate white zip-front coveralls, and he had a white canvas painter’s cap perched backward on his nearly bald head. Red Converse high tops finished off the outfit, which he’d accessorized with a red bandana tied jauntily at his throat.
“I roped myself in, Glo,” he said. “I’m Keeley’s junior apprentice trainee for the day. She’s going to teach me all the tricks of your trade. And I am absolutely aquiver with anticipation.”
“I told him,” I said. “It’s dirty, brutal, agonizingly painstakingly awful work. And that’s just for the window treatments. But he wouldn’t be talked out of it. And I could actually use his help, if we’re going to get everything done in one day.”
Gloria tsk-tsked. “I’d do it myself, if I could. But I promised to take some wallpaper books and flooring samples over to Mozella this afternoon.”
“Mozella? She’s going to do the beauty parlor over again?”
“I know,” Gloria said, shaking her head. “It’s only been a year since we redid the shampoo room and the bathroom. It’s fine just like it is. I think maybe she’s just feeling sorry for us and is giving us make-work. But if she wants to spend her husband’s money, it’s not my business to tell her not to.”
“Y’all,” Austin said, tapping his foot impatiently. “Can you talk this girl chit-chat later? I can hear that pump house just crying out for my artistic license.”
“Go on,” Gloria said, waving us out the door. “Make magic. And don’t forget to take pictures.”
The shoulder of the highway at the entrance to Mulberry Hill was lined with a dozen or so battered pickup trucks and cargo vans. New asphalt road had been paved over the old mud road, and huge piles of fresh-cut timber and underbrush were stacked on either side of the shiny black pavement. The shaggy old boxwoods had been closely clipped, and a couple of Mexican workers were putting the finishing touches on whitewashed brick pillars marking the entry to the new drive.
“So this is it,” Austin said, craning his neck to see down the road ahead. “I’ve been by this spot millions of times, and I never dreamed there was a mansion back in here.”
“This was a kind of lovers’ lane when I was in high school,” I said. “But you couldn’t drive back in very far, because they had it chained off. Don’t expect too much now. There’s still a lot of work to be done to the big house.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Tell me when we’re there. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
The Volvo breezed down the nice level road, and I was grateful for all the clearing the landscape designer and his crew had accomplished. I made the sharp turn, the meadow came into view, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Waves of Queen Anne’s lace; orange daylilies; scarlet, white and purple cosmos; black-eyed Susans; and other wildflowers I couldn’t name spread out before me. The sides of the meadow had been fenced with a simple white fence, and on the right side of the field, a sturdy brown mule munched on a bale of hay that was stacked under one of the water oaks.
“Very nice,” I murmured.
“What?” Austin demanded. “Are we there yet?”
“Not yet,” I said. “I’m just admiring the landscape. Thank goodness Will had the sense to let it mostly alone.”
He raised the fingers of one hand and peeked out. “Oh heaven!” he exclaimed. “Do you know what kind of arrangements I can make with all these little goodies?”
At the end of the meadow the green lawn had been resodded, rolled, and manicured to golf course perfection. A new boxwood hedge marked the transition from meadow to lawn, and the front of the house loomed ahead, its façade covered with a network of bright yellow scaffolding, where workers scraped away at the remains of the old paint.
“That’s it!” Austin said, his voice reverent. “Mulberry Hill. It’s divine, Keeley.”
“Not yet,” I said, smiling to myself. “But it will be.”
As we got closer to the house, another cluster of cars parked around to the side came into view. More trucks and vans, and a big old yellow Cadillac.