The Good Kind of Crazy

Please. As if Savannah hadn’t been dyeing her hair for years? Or did Douglas think it was naturally retaining its youthful gold, unmarred by the hereditary gray that streaked Neely’s ash-blond bob? Vi had heard their mother sigh to Neely as they’d set out the china, “I suppose that awful bleaching is better than some of the colors Vidalia could have chosen.”

She forced a laugh. “Pointless to say something about it now that it’s done, isn’t it? Besides, I’m a grown-up, and it’s my hair.”

Douglas stared at her for a long, unsmiling second, then ducked his head, a wry grin and one dimple evident in profile. “You’re no more a responsible grown-up than I am. We just play different games, is all.”

Savannah parked The Tank, her SUV, wondering if she’d ever be completely comfortable maneuvering the vehicle into her half of the garage. When Trent left for university next fall and she was officially beyond her toting-children-around years, maybe she’d buy something small and sleek. The thought should have made her smile, but instead a cold shadow passed through her. It seemed like only yesterday her sons had been strapped into car seats behind her, pelting each other with Cheerios.

She unfastened her seat belt with a sigh, her mood not lightened by the realization that she should have called. Arriving home late with no word was the kind of behavior that would have earned her boys a reprimand. Even though her husband and youngest son knew she’d been with her family, a lot could have happened between Kennesaw and Roswell. She’d been so caught up in the excitement of Neely’s wedding plans that she’d forgotten to phone them so they didn’t worry and let them know what dinner options were in the refrigerator.

But a voice that sounded more like one of her sisters’ than hers whispered, Trent is seventeen and Jason has a medical degree, they can darn well open the fridge and see for themselves what’s available. Okay, maybe that didn’t sound exactly like her sisters. She couldn’t imagine no-nonsense Neely saying darn, and the thought of Vi using such a watered-down expression was enough to restore Savannah’s grin as she opened the door that led into her spacious navy-and-white kitchen. Sunflower accents added bright splashes of cheer.

Although she hadn’t done any baking today, the room smelled as homey and delicious as it did on Thanksgiving, thanks to the cinnamon spice potpourri she kept in the windowsill over the double sink. She worked hard to make this house a comfortable, inviting place to live. Whether he was capable of checking in the refrigerator or not wasn’t the point—Jason Carter, one of Atlanta’s best obstetricians, worked long, draining shifts and provided well for his wife and two sons. The least she could do was insure he came home to lovingly prepared meals and clean rooms.

The kitchen was unsurprisingly empty. Though the women in her family were known for congregating in kitchens, Savannah’s sons and husband normally gravitated toward the big-screen television. She heard muffled sounds from the den down the hallway.

“I’m home,” she called out, kicking off her shoes before she padded across the pale carpeting.

Trent and Jason were both in the den, her son stretched across the couch with his size twelve sneakers on the velour arm, and her husband sprawled in the recliner she’d bought him for Christmas. An open cardboard box on the coffee table between them revealed two uneaten slices of pizza, and while both men said hello, neither looked away from the basketball game they were watching.

“Honestly, Trent, you’re old enough to know better than to put your shoes on my furniture.” And a shower after his softball practice wouldn’t have killed him, either.

“Sorry.” He bent toward his feet with teenage flexibility, tossing the shoes to the ground with muffled thuds while his gaze stayed locked on the foul shot being made. Now the room smelled like sweat socks and sausage pizza—she squelched the urge to run for her vacuum cleaner and some carpet deodorizer.

“I hope you two weren’t worried about me,” she said, feeling like an idiot even as the words left her mouth. The glassy-eyed, sauce-smeared faces before her did not hold expressions of concern. “I know I’m normally back long before dinnertime, but—”

“Now that you mention it.” Trent craned his head, his hazel eyes finally meeting hers as he flashed her an impish grin. “What are we having?”

It was just plain sad that some part of her was pleased by his request, felt gratifyingly needed. “Didn’t you have pizza already?”

He crinkled his nose. “That was an afternoon snack. I’m starved. But I can finish off those last two slices if you don’t want to cook, Mom.”

“I don’t mind.” The words came out too fast, the echo of desperation worse than the locker-room-meets-pizzeria aroma. “Any special requests, Jason?”

Her husband shook his head. “I made the mistake of having a piece of our son’s killer pizza when I got in and have the heartburn to show for it. I’ll probably take some antacid and hit the sack early.”

“Deliveries go okay?” she asked.

“One emergency C, but all mothers and babies are in good health. I’m exhausted, though. I swear I could just sleep here—this chair’s even more comfortable than our bed.”

If Trent hadn’t been in the room, would she have flirted a little, teased that she’d miss her husband if he didn’t come to bed? The truth was, with the crazy hours he sometimes worked, she was accustomed to sleeping alone. Besides, his snoring on the mattress next to her didn’t always make her feel less lonely.

She forced a bright smile, not that anyone was looking at her. “Well, I have big news! You’ll never believe who’s getting married—Neely.”

That got their attention. Jason looked up, grunting in surprise. “Neely? I half expected you to say Vi followed a wild impulse and ran off with her pottery instructor or something.”

“Aunt Cornelia?” Trent’s mouth had fallen open. “Wow. Why?”

Men. “Because she’s in love.”

Her son ran a hand through his dark hair, considering. “I guess. It’s just weird to think about someone her age, you know, dating.”

“She’s younger than I am.”

“Sure, but not by much and you’re a mom. You’ve got grown kids. You don’t date!”

No, she didn’t. She went with her son to scout universities and planned meals, making jokes about how much her grocery bill would drop once she no longer had teenage boys in the house. Reverting to type now, she left the guys to their game and retreated to the kitchen, deciding a chef salad would work nicely for her and Trent’s dinner. It had been tough when Adam, her twenty-year-old, left for school, but having Trent at home had helped ease the ache. Once he was gone, her life would be so…

Quiet. She tried to put a relaxing spin on the word. Less stressful without a seventeen-year-old and his appalling musical taste. She wouldn’t have to wait up on Saturday nights, lying in bed and listening for him to come home from his dates. Oh, who did she think she was kidding? With her baby out on his own, she’d probably lie in bed worrying about him every night. Hoping he didn’t fall in with the wrong kids, wondering if he was keeping on top of his course work, praying he didn’t get some pretty young coed pregnant.

Jason had chuckled at those same concerns when Adam left for university. “You raised good kids,” her husband had assured her. “Now it’s time to let them go and become the men they’ll be.”

Raised good kids—past tense. She’d been a full-time mom and housewife for two decades. Her days were going to be strangely empty without PTA meetings, doctors’ appointments, football booster club. Not that she felt sorry for herself. She was proud of her nearly grown sons, and aware of her blessings. How many of her friends and neighbors had marveled over Savannah’s life?

You’re so together, Savannah, I could never be that organized!

You have such great boys.

How on earth do you find time to cook like this—and with such sinful desserts, how do you stay so trim?

She knew she was lucky.

It was just…since she didn’t turn forty-six until late April, Savannah and her sister were the same age one month out of every year. She and Neely were both forty-five. So, why did it seem like Neely’s life was about to hit a new beginning while Savannah’s, in so many ways, seemed to be coming to a close?

“So, how’d it go?” Because Robert was too kind to hold grudges, there was no lingering annoyance in his gray eyes, no resentment that Neely had argued against his coming to lunch. There was only affection and a hint of amusement.

“Great.” She leaned against his kitchen counter, where breakfast and lunch dishes were stacked. Must not have been room for them in the sink—not with last night’s dinner plates, abandoned in passionate haste, still piled beneath the faucet. “It went great.”

Other than Vi thinking she was a lesbian, her divorced brother becoming uncharacteristically withdrawn after he’d absorbed the wedding news and their mother’s insistence on calling Neely’s soon-to-be in-laws the Yankees.

With a sigh, she abandoned the pretense. “My family makes me crazy.”

Robert laughed. “Isn’t that what families are for, to offset all the needless sanity in our lives?”

Grinning back at him felt good. “Then my mother deserves some kind of award for going above and beyond. She’s known about the wedding less than twelve hours, and already she’s trying to take over. How many groomsmen were you thinking, because she’s suggesting distant cousins I swear I’ve never met to be bridesmaids.”

“Groomsmen? Well, there’s Stuart, of course. Maybe Bryan. Is it okay that I haven’t actually given this part much thought? I’ve only been engaged for a day.”

Engaged. Her heart fluttered at the newness of it, the wonder that she’d found someone who wanted to spend his life with her. “Of course it’s okay that we haven’t figured out the details yet. One step at a time. But it might have simplified my life, at least short term, if I’d waited until later to tell her.”

His arms fell to her waist, and he pulled her closer. “How much later?”

“Umm…June?”

He chuckled again, as he so often did. Robert had a perfect laugh, deep and warm—neither self-conscious titters, nor the loud, my-jokes-are-so-funny bray of a guy who pokes fun at others. Merely the comfortable reaction of a man who saw the humor in life. And helped her see it more clearly.

She’d always been reserved, figuring someone in the family should be. She wasn’t like outgoing Savannah who knew the perfect response to every social occasion, mouthy Vi who delighted in audaciousness, or Douglas, who, in the course of charming and joking his way through life, sometimes failed to respect the gravity of a situation. Except for one disastrous period of college rebellion she didn’t like to remember, Neely had clung to hard work and staying focused. As a result, she now held a good position working for Cameron Becker. Seriousness had served her well.

It just hadn’t gotten her laid very often, Vi would point out.

Neely’s relationships with men who matched her personality had been sensible, but boring. On the other hand, her two affairs with guys her polar opposite had ended badly, the first in college which had left her humiliated and heartbroken, the second just before she hit forty. She’d ended the latter relationship quickly, before she killed the man and had to retain Douglas to defend her.

But now she had Robert. It was one of life’s ironies that she’d found her perfect balance when she wasn’t even looking. Between all the time she’d devoted to work and the girls’ nights she’d spent helping Leah through her separation and eventual divorce, Neely had barely dated in four years before Robert kissed her on that beach.

She snuggled into his shoulder, the memory of sea air superimposed over the familiar smell of his aftershave. “If the end result is marrying you, I can handle anything my mother dishes out over the next three months.”

“I love you, too.”

“Just remember that later this week, okay?” Neely finally had escaped her parents’ house today with sworn oaths to bring Robert over in a few days and discuss wedding plans more then. The thought of the coming conversations made her head hurt. “You’re sure I can’t talk you into eloping?” Quick, simple, and no worries about assigning someone to keep cousin Phoebe away from the bar.

“Sorry.” He grinned that rakish smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Since I’ve waited so long to find the right bride, I insist we do the wedding right. Have you recruited Leah as your maid of honor yet? Maybe she can help run interference with your mom.”

Recalling the shadowed expression in Douglas’s eyes before he’d left, Neely struggled against a wince. It was tough to share the news of your engagement with someone whose own marriage had collapsed. Still, she knew Leah would be thrilled for her. It should help that her friend already knew about Robert and that she’d been divorced considerably longer than Neely’s brother.

“I’m telling her tomorrow. I asked her this morning if we could meet for lunch.”

“Well, then. That will take care of the most important people, except…”

“Your parents.” She’d never met them, but since they were the people who’d raised Robert, she assumed they were wonderful.

“They’ll be back from their cruise by next weekend. Not nervous, are you?”

“No.” Sure, she’d experienced the odd apprehensive moment over informing the future in-laws that their only child was taking a bride, but it had to be easier than dealing with her family today. “Your family’s normal, right?”

He grinned. “Normal is such a relative term.”

CHAPTER 3

Neely strode through the Lenox Square Mall, which was pretty crowded for a Monday. Leah worked as a cosmetics consultant in one of the upscale department stores, so they were meeting in one of the restaurants inside the mall. Declining a sample of teriyaki chicken as she passed the food court and zigzagging around two women oohing and ahhing over some Kenneth Cole shoes outside a store window, Neely recalled how Leah had sounded on the phone yesterday morning. Distracted, sniffly. Her friend had claimed seasonal allergies and the disorienting effects of antihistamine, which was certainly plausible in Georgia this time of year. If it had been twelve months ago, or even six, Neely would have assumed that Leah was crying over her rat bastard ex-husband, but her friend seemed adjusted to her single life lately.

She looks terrific, anyway. Neely watched Leah step off the escalator. With her wave of red-gold hair and slimming uniform of black turtleneck and slacks, she was easy to spot among browsing housewives in pastel spring fashions. Whereas Neely had put on a few pounds after lingering over meals with Robert, Leah had lost at least fifteen since her divorce, largely because she took out her aggression in workouts at a women’s gym. Her body was in the best shape it had been since Neely had known her.

But as the two women came to a stop within a few feet of each other beneath the emerald awning of the agreed-upon bar and grill, Neely could see Leah’s pretty face sported more makeup than usual. Still not enough to disguise her red and slightly swollen eyes.

Antihistamines, my ass. “You’ve been crying.” At times like this, she wished she had Savannah’s diplomatic knack of knowing what to say.

“Not in the last five minutes,” Leah said, trying to make a joke of it with her wobbly smile.

“Well, let’s get you to a table, I’ll buy you lunch and you can tell me what’s wrong.”

“Okay, but I don’t actually have much of an appetite and margaritas are a no-no since I have to go back to work right after this. Don’t want unsteady hands while I’m wielding a mascara wand near a customer’s eye.”

An impossibly skinny hostess with towering heels and a fall of straight, glossy hair showed them to a booth. Neely hoped for the pretty young woman’s sake that she had someone to rub her feet at the end of her shift—standing all day in those shoes couldn’t be comfortable.

Even though Leah had said she wasn’t hungry and Neely’s blood pressure didn’t need the salt, they ordered tortilla chips with the restaurant’s signature spinach dip. Placing drink orders and waiting for the appetizer to come gave Leah a little time to regain her composure.

Once her friend looked less fragile, Neely hazarded a guess. “Did something happen with Phillip to upset you?”

“You could say that.” Leah’s soft brown eyes brimmed with tears.

“We don’t have to talk about it, I just—”

“No, you’ll find out soon enough anyway. I imagine news will work itself through the office.”

Phillip was an employee of Becker Southern Media. Neely didn’t work closely with him, but had come to know Leah through accumulated company picnics, Christmas parties and other social gatherings.

“He’s getting married,” Leah blurted. “He called me Saturday afternoon, oozing his newfound happiness. He said he wanted to tell me because he didn’t want me to find out accidentally from you or another mutual acquaintance. A plausible excuse, but I can’t help thinking he wanted to gloat a little. The worst part…” A sob welled up, choking off the rest of her sentence.

Neely snapped a chip in half, imagining it was Phillip’s neck.

“The worst part is, it’s not Kate.”

Six years younger and two cup sizes larger than Leah, Kate was the woman Phillip had been sleeping with when his wife dissolved the marriage.

“You wish it was?”

“I keep thinking I’d feel better if he’d ended up with her, if he’d cheated on me because he really loved her. Knowing that he threw our marriage away over a meaningless fling… He proposed to Tiffany, a more recent girlfriend and even younger than Kate. Not quite half his age, but close enough. Tiffany and Phillip? Why doesn’t he just send out wedding announcements that say ‘You’re invited to my midlife crisis’? He told me he’d be honored if I can come to the ceremony, but that he would understand if it was too painful.” She sneered the last words in a parody of concern.

“Bastard,” Neely muttered. “Serve him right if you showed up looking hot as all hell, with a twenty-five-year-old stud on your arm.”

Leah managed a smile. “That idea has merit. Or would, if I knew any twenty-five-year-old studs who wouldn’t call me ma’am.”

“This is Georgia, women of all ages get called ma’am.”

“Still. I don’t really want to go to the wedding, except that I’m sure if I don’t, he’ll assume it’s because I’m not over his sorry ass.”

Are you?

Reading the unasked question in Neely’s expression, Leah continued. “I thought I was, but this wedding news hit me hard. I mean, I got weepy this morning when a woman bought an assortment of lipsticks and told me they were party favors for a bridal shower. Am I pathetic enough to still be in love with a man who thought to have and to hold meant just until something curvier sauntered along?”

“You’re not pathetic! He sandbagged you with this announcement, and you’re having a normal reaction. Whether you go or not, what he thinks doesn’t matter.” And if there was justice in the world, he’d be struck impotent on his wedding night.

“Well, I have plenty of time to decide.” Leah fiddled with the straw in her soft drink. “They haven’t even set a date yet. Not that I needed to know this, apparently little Tiffany has always dreamed of a June wedding, but says this summer doesn’t give her enough time to plan and next summer is much too far away for her to wait. A June wedding—how cliché is that?”

Neely swallowed. More of a gulp actually. She’d been so incensed on her friend’s behalf that she’d temporarily forgotten why she’d asked Leah to meet her for lunch in the first place. Well, now’s hardly the time to tell her.

But she’d have to tell Leah eventually, and her friend would want details—when, where and how Robert had proposed. Once she found out, she’d be hurt Neely hadn’t told her immediately. “Uh…Leah? You might know someone else guilty of that same cliché.”

“What, you mean getting married in June? Who?”

Raising her hand level with her face, she said tentatively, “Me.”

“Huh? Oh, my God! Robert proposed?”

“Yeah. We can wait until later to talk about it, but you’re my best friend. It wouldn’t be right if you weren’t one of the first people to know.”

“Of course we have to talk about it! I don’t want you to think…oh, dear. You’re getting married in June? Sorry about the crack earlier. You understand that you are a classy woman who appreciates tradition, while Tiffany is an airhead who doesn’t have an original thought.”

“Ooh, nice distinction.”

Dashing away tears—happier ones this time—Leah glanced around. “Where is our waitress? A discussion like this should take place over a celebratory lunch and decadent desserts.”

But at the office a couple of hours later, dessert was churning in Neely’s stomach.

Was it warm in the conference room, or was she the only one who felt overheated and slightly nauseous? It occurred to her she might be having a hot flash—and wouldn’t that be sexy with her fiancé sitting directly across from her?—but even though her doctor had confirmed she was definitely perimenopausal, she suspected this was a result of lunch.

She tried to concentrate on the current discussion about an upcoming radio merger, but her conversation with Leah kept intruding. For all of her friend’s determination to be happy for her, Neely had still left lunch feeling overwhelmed. Leah’s hyperenthusiastic questions had been the equal but opposite reaction to Beth Mason’s caustic remarks and forceful suggestions. Leah had cheerfully reeled off inquiry after inquiry, each landing like lead on top of the fudge sundae they’d shared.

“Will it be a church wedding?”

“I don’t know. I’d always had in the back of my mind that a garden wedding would be nice, but Mom pointed out that Aunt Jo is allergic to practically everything and that you can never guarantee the weather.”

“Well, you’ll want to reserve a venue immediately! Places book early for June. Speaking of places, are you moving into his?”

“I don’t know.” It shocked Neely that she hadn’t even considered that yet. She was a details person, the one who usually worried about logistics. Still, she’d been swept up in the novelty of romance, being in love and enjoying that for once in her life. Besides, she had months left on her lease and time to discuss the situation with Robert.

“So, will the two of you be getting a prenup? If I had my farce of a marriage to do all over again, I certainly would—not that you and Robert will ever need one!”

But who ever really thought they’d need a prenup? How could Leah have guessed, the day she optimistically took her vows, that she’d now be debating whether or not to attend her husband’s second wedding? Certainly Douglas had seemed shell-shocked, despite warnings, when Zoe followed through on her threat to leave if he couldn’t grow up and take more responsibility in their relationship.

Neely had never even been engaged, let alone married, but she remembered the mocking disregard with which her first lover had cast her aside, leaving her dumbfounded and gun-shy. She knew now that she hadn’t loved him, had merely been infatuated and pleased to have someone’s full attention after years of living with a perfect sister and the brother who would carry on the family name. If being unceremoniously dumped had crushed her then, how much pain would it cause if Robert ever decided to leave? She imagined the last thing she’d want to deal with under those circumstances would be tangled divorce settlements that only prolonged goodbye.

“Neely?” Cameron Becker’s gruff voice penetrated her thoughts, and she jumped guiltily in the padded office chair. “You’re scowling. You don’t agree with Dave’s assessment?”

From farther down the table, vice president David Samuels frowned at her.

Oops. “No, I think he was…dead-on. I’m sorry, just got distracted for a moment. Is it hot in here?”