The Good Kind of Crazy

Amanda Barnes, a fifty-something consultant working with Becker on this deal, shot her a sympathetic glance. Robert looked concerned and followed her to her office after the meeting.

“Feeling okay?” he asked once they were alone.

“I guess lunch didn’t agree with me.” She sipped the cup of water she’d poured in the hall.

He sat on the corner of her desk, a little close for her comfort to an expenditure report she’d typed that morning. “You mean just the food, right? Or was telling Leah really that bad?”

“No, she—hang on, why don’t we move this out of the way?” She’d been known to use binder clips that coordinated with the colors of her fonts and graphs; she was not handing Cameron a crinkled report. “She was very happy for us. But the timing stank. Turns out Phillip just informed her he was getting remarried.”

“Ouch.”

Neely crossed the room to refile some of the folders she’d needed earlier. “She was great, though. Very excited about being the maid of honor. I know I said yesterday that we have time to think about the details, but Leah made a good point. We should reserve a place immediately. If not sooner. So we might want to think about what size crowd we’re looking at, whether we want a formal dinner or more casual reception.”

He nodded affably, looking utterly relaxed in the face of her rising panic. This was why he was so good for her. “Why don’t you come over, I’ll grab takeout on the way home, and we can start planning?”

“Or we could go to my place,” she threw out impulsively. Maybe it was territorial of her, but she couldn’t relax as well at Robert’s place. And not just because of the constant drop-ins of neighbors who were fond of her extroverted fiancé, including Sheila, the thirty-eight-year-old downstairs he had once dated. They’d never become very serious, but she continued to depend on Robert’s help with her car and occasional handyman jobs if it was the weekend and the super was out of touch. It was amazing how many maintenance issues Sheila had over the weekend.

Neighbors aside, Neely always had the urge to tidy Robert’s apartment. Her birthday had been a notable exception since he’d gone to great pains to clean up and set a romantic atmosphere in the main rooms. For his cluttered guest room, he’d shut the door and left it at that.

His eyebrows lifted, but after a moment, he said, “Sure. Either way.”

“Sorry. I think…maybe because I’m not feeling well, I’m sort of longing for the comforts of home.”

“Understood.” He slid off the desk and came toward her, as if about to offer a hug, but stopped shy. Although it was common knowledge they were a couple, they’d agreed early on to keep displays of affection away from the workplace. “I’ll meet you there at about seven?”

“Sounds great, thank you.” The man was a gem.

Pausing at the door, he asked, “You don’t feel uncomfortable at my place, do you? I hope you know you can make yourself at home there. I can clear some closet space for you, give you some drawers in the bathroom. Anything that helps.”

“That’s sweet, but not necessary. Your place is already very homey.” It definitely had that lived-in feel.

After he’d gone, she sat behind her desk, pondering the questions Leah had posed. Did Robert think they’d move into his place? Hers was closer to the office, but not as big. Then again, he didn’t exactly make the most of the space he had. She wouldn’t call his apartment grungy, but it was the home of a mellow bachelor who got around to sorting his laundry when he felt like it. He just fished clean socks out of the laundry basket on the sofa as needed.

Neely tackled household chores with a practical the-sooner-the-better approach. They’d had more than one dinner at her place where Robert had invited her to sit on the couch and watch television with him and worry about the dishes later; except she was best able to enjoy what she was doing when she knew there wasn’t housework waiting afterward. He’d probably understand that about her more once they were living together.

Her temperature spiked again, and her heart thundered in her ears. We’re going to be living together. She’d known it rationally, she just hadn’t stopped to think about it yet. To really think about all that it entailed. She’d been on her own for a long time. Even when she did spend a night at Robert’s, she knew she could return to her apartment. After June, there would be no “her place” or “his place.”

Only the home of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Walsh.

They obviously had a lot more to talk about than how many invitations they should buy and the size of the wedding party. Her stomach tightened at the thought of how many important and personal conversations they needed to have. Her lack of romantic experience left her feeling unprepared, and the uncertainty reminded her why she liked numbers so much. Calculating equations was a lot simpler than being in love. Good thing she’d somehow managed to find a man so worth the trouble—now she just had to prove that she was.

Savannah didn’t know why she felt so nervous—she was neither the one getting married, nor the stranger coming to meet the family for the first time. Nonetheless, when she handed her mama the sweet potato casserole she’d brought, her fingers were trembling.

Hoping her mother and husband hadn’t noticed, she turned to Jason. “Want me to hang up your coat, honey?” Even though it had been warm a few days earlier, the March wind had blown in a storm front that was causing lower temperatures and sinus headaches all over the metroplex.

“Thanks.” Her husband held out his jacket and turned to face Douglas, who stood to the side in the parlor with Vi and their father. “So, when do we get to meet the new guy?”

“Neely called to say they got hung up in traffic but should be here in about ten minutes. Can I fix you a drink?” He indicated the side bar, where the Professor was refilling his own glass.

Jason shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m not technically scheduled to work tonight, but I’m on call as backup.”

A tug of premature disappointment pulled at Savannah. Jason had missed the last two monthly dinners and been called away from her father’s birthday celebration because of work. She hoped that wouldn’t be the case tonight—she felt bad enough that Trent couldn’t come because of a senior prom fund-raiser. Then again, interruptions were bound to occur when you were married to the man hundreds of women wanted to deliver their babies.

As she put his coat in the entryway closet, Savannah remembered how proud she’d been when she’d told acquaintances she was marrying a doctor! Not that he’d been a doctor at the time, but he’d already been accepted into med school and his path was clear. They’d married after graduating college, and she’d taught at a private day care, helping to shoulder the bills while he studied and interned.

When she’d discovered she was pregnant with Adam, she’d been first ecstatic, then worried about her husband’s reaction. They’d planned to wait another year or two before having a baby, but Jason had been thrilled. She’d teased him at prenatal checkups when he’d shown as much interest in the medical equipment as her progress, and she’d wept watching him cradle their son for the first time. If Jason hadn’t cried, his eyes had certainly been damp with emotion.

Recalling that moment in the hospital as if it were yesterday, she suddenly felt more generously disposed to the expecting women who so frequently needed Jason’s time. After all, when he couldn’t make family plans, it was because he was away, bringing the miracle of new life into the world, not because he was waving one-dollar bills in the air at some smoke-filled strip club on the seedier side of Atlanta. She’d known the specifics of being a doctor’s wife—odd hours, being a good hostess when he invited members of the medical community for dinner, attending different social functions. Jason had praised her on many occasions for making him look good, saying he’d be lost without her.

Her mood bolstered, Savannah went to help her mother in the kitchen. It was a sure bet Vi wouldn’t think to offer her assistance.

Beth had just started to carve the ham when the doorbell pealed through the old house.

“Looks as if our guests of honor are here.” Savannah had a sudden moment of reverse déjà vu that caused her smile to falter—would Adam be bringing home a woman to meet his parents in the next few years?

“Late,” Beth grunted, looking at the digital over the oven.

Savannah could tell this was another strike against the mysterious suitor who hadn’t bothered to meet Neely’s parents, much less ask their permission, before proposing. “I’m sure the delay was unavoidable, Mama, and not a reflection on Mr. Walsh.”

Her mother slanted her a knowing glance. “You’re not about to remind me to be hospitable in my own house, are you?”

“When you’re the one who taught me everything I know about Southern generosity? Of course not,” Savannah said sweetly. “You’d be the perfect gracious hostess to anyone who came to your door, even if they weren’t entirely punctual.”

Beth grinned. “With some coaching from you, Vidalia could be a lot more subtle about her back talk.”

Savannah thought of her sister, of her bright bleached hair and constant opinions. “I don’t think Vi has any interest in subtle.”

“Well, let’s go join them before she says something to scare off this Robert Walsh and Cornelia ends up as alone and crazy as my great-aunt Willa.”

Either Robert and Neely hadn’t bothered with jackets, or someone had already put them away. The two of them sat on the striped antique settee Gerald had reupholstered when Savannah was in high school—Neely in a scoop-necked sweater and black skirt, Robert in a button-down shirt and navy tie. He was handsome, Savannah thought judiciously, taking in the wave of silver in his rich brown hair and the sparkle of his gray eyes. The sparkle increased when he looked at Neely, which he did often. She didn’t seem to mind, snuggling close to him with her hand resting atop his knee. A simple touch, but meaningful for Neely.

Robert Walsh wasn’t quite debonair, but something more comfortable and sincere. Though he was tall, with a firm, square jaw, there was a kind of indefinable softness about him, too. Perhaps Savannah recognized it because it reminded her vaguely of her father, an invisible vibe of kindness that promised he’d never mistreat children or small animals.

When Neely glanced up at her, Savannah’s first instinct was to turn away and not be caught staring. Silly, really, since it was understandable for the family to be curious about Robert. She stepped forward, offering her hand.

“Savannah Mason Carter,” she introduced herself. “Have you already met my husband, Dr. Jason Carter?”

“We were just starting the name exchange,” Douglas said. “We’d only gotten as far as Dad and Vidalia Jean.”

“Who goes by Vi, right?” Robert smiled, looking as if he might say more, perhaps about how Neely didn’t like her full name, either, but stopped, catching sight of Beth behind Savannah. Apparently he had the good sense not to joke about names when the people who’d picked them out were standing in the room. “Mrs. Mason. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

As he held out the bottle of wine he’d brought along as a hostess gift, Savannah grinned inwardly. She liked the “finally” as a discreet reminder that, if it had been up to him, he’d have met them sooner. Robert Walsh might just hold his own with Beth, and once she approved of him, he was family.

After the pleasantries were exchanged, Beth planted her hands on her ample hips. “Well, not to discount the value of small talk, but I worked too hard on that food to let it go cold. Why don’t we move into the dining room?”

They all headed that way, and Savannah noticed the hand Robert placed on the small of her sister’s back. An odd ripple of yearning went through her at the unconscious intimacy conveyed in the touch. She cast a glance toward her husband, abashedly aware of the longing that probably showed in her face.

But he was deep in discussion with Douglas about a new property tax and didn’t notice.

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