Tennessee Rescue. Carolyn McSparren
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AN HOUR LATER, Seth and Earl left the party boat locked in its slip. The keys were with the marina master. He had instructions not to allow anyone to have them, especially Mr. Pulliam, until further notice. The owner would not be partying on his boat for a while. He’d signed off on an expensive ticket and a summons to show cause why he shouldn’t lose his boat for drinking on board, plus a long list of other offenses. His wife was crying, and everyone else was shaking with embarrassment.
Earl and Seth could hear the burgeoning squabble behind them as they loaded their own boat on the trailer.
Earl said as they drove out of the parking lot, “Think old Grady will lose his boat?”
“If we were the Coast Guard, maybe, but you and I are small fry. He’ll have fines to pay, probably some community service. We didn’t actually see any of them taking a drink from that bottle of bourbon, and we don’t have the Breathalyzer, so we can’t get him on DUI just for having an open container aboard.”
“We both know they were drinking. The man’s breath stank like a still.”
“He’s lucky they didn’t capsize or pitch pole, dragging against the anchor chain like that. I suspect that one lady would either float like a whale or sink like a stone. No idea which. With the exception of Pulliam, they were nice enough people, but they don’t believe the rules apply to them.”
“Or why we have rules in the first place,” Earl said. “I gotta say, I was right proud of you about those life jackets. I know how you feel about wearing life jackets at all times, and I know how you get when a bunch of idiots stick them away so they can’t reach ’em.”
“Mrs. Pulliam could tell I was mad. I came close to punching everybody’s lights out and tossing them overboard. I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“Wish you’d stop scaring the stew out of me jumping from boat to boat like that. One of these days you’re gonna miss and get yourself hurt.”
“Next time, you can do it.”
“Nunh-uh. Forget I said anything.”
As they drove off, Seth asked, “Is the governor really your cousin?”
“Turns out he is, but I doubt he knows it, much less knows me.”
* * *
“HAVE YOU DECIDED to come home where you belong?” David French’s baritone rolled smoothly down the phone line. No greeting.
“Hello to you, too, Daddy. How lovely to hear from you.” Emma let the honey roll off her tongue. He’d pick up on the sarcasm. He seldom missed nuances where she was concerned.
“Have you and Trip made up yet?” he asked.
“Not happening.”
“Now, honey. Newly engaged couples invariably hit a few bumps on their way to the altar. Prenuptial nerves. I talked to Andrea about it. She says it’s not unusual for a bride to be scared to make the final commitment.”
“She say whether she was scared to make a final commitment to you, before she married you?”
“Shoot, yeah! But she got over it and not only took me on, but my twelve-year-old motherless daughter, as well. Believe me, you were no picnic.” He laughed his professionally warm laugh.
Emma had wondered years ago if he practiced it in front of the mirror while he shaved in the morning.
“Sit down and talk to the man, at least, honey. He’s been calling me a dozen times a day. Says you won’t answer his calls or his emails.”
“He’s right. I haven’t and I don’t intend to. I’ve said all I’m going to say. Both of you need to get over it.”
“It’s all because you got laid off, isn’t it? You feel you’re letting him down. You shouldn’t be embarrassed, Emma. It happens to everyone sooner or later.”
“First of all, I didn’t get laid off. I got fired. F-I-R-E-D. By Nathan Savage, the boss of bosses. And I did not deserve it. Darn right I’m embarrassed. I had to pack up my stuff and drag my pitiful little box out to the car all by myself while the security guard loomed over me. A man I’ve known for three years. He didn’t lift a finger to help me, just glared, as though I planned to steal the office computer. He didn’t even want me to take my own Rolodex until I proved it was mine. Letting Trip down was the last thing on my mind. I was concentrating on holding my head high and stalking out while everybody slunk into their offices and didn’t even tell me goodbye. It was horrible, Dad.” She felt her eyes begin to tear up, gulped and refused to allow the tears to slide down her cheeks.
“I’m sure Trip doesn’t blame you, sweetheart. He knows that frankly you got screwed. And if we can manage, it’s not going to be long before Nathan Savage knows it, too.”
“Dad, Geoff Harrington is the one who signed off on all the contracts, not Nathan and not me. I advised against them. I told Geoff they were a bad idea, that we’d wind up with egg on our faces. I knew we couldn’t possibly meet the deadline to implement a complete new marketing plan. He said he took full responsibility, and my job was to do what he told me. Period.
“I should’ve gone over his head straight to Nathan, but Nathan was in Switzerland and Geoff was supposedly in charge. By the time Nathan got back, the whole thing was a done deal, and all my memos to Geoff warning against the completion schedule for the new website and ad campaign had somehow disappeared from the original file as well as mine. Geoff convinced Nathan that I talked him into signing off on all of it. But, please don’t try to intervene. You’ll embarrass Nathan so badly, he’ll never talk to me again. He hates anyone’s catching on when he’s wrong.”
“How long do you intend to stay out there in the country? You can’t possibly find another job working from Martha’s old house sixty miles east of Memphis. At least here you’d have the support of your friends and family. You can lick your wounds in comfort. We all miss you. If you don’t want to stay in your town house, you can always have your old room back here. Andrea will feed you properly. She told me she’d love to have you back. You could do with some spoiling.”
Andrea was an excellent stepmother. She and Emma were fond of each other. Andrea already had her hands full with her committees and her charities and Emma’s half brother and half sister. “Thank Andrea, but tell her having a grown child move home is too darned big a cliché.”
Emma jumped as something touched her foot. She looked down to see Sycamore patting her toes and mewing like a hungry kitten. “You little devil!” she whispered, scooped him up and held him in the crook of the arm not holding the phone.
“I beg your pardon,” David French said.
She giggled. “Not you, Dad. I can’t come home, I have responsibilities.”
“What kind of responsibilities?”
“Look, don’t worry. I’m starting to send out résumés today and signing up with some headhunters. Tell Trip to get on with his life. Thank God we didn’t have an official engagement party. Give my love to Andrea and the monsters. I really am all right, Dad. I promise I’ll call every day from here on. Love ya. Bye.” She hung up the phone, lifted Sycamore up and butted noses with him. “Mr. Hungry, huh? Where are your baby sisters?”
Neither Peony nor Rose had made it across the threshold from pantry to kitchen, but they were gallantly trying to follow their brother. She scooped them up, as well, and deposited them back on their towel. “Okay, you guys obviously need a barricade.” She grabbed the big laundry basket, picked up babies and towel, and laid them in the bottom of the basket. Then she carried it into the kitchen, setting it where she could keep an eye on them while she warmed her syringe under the hot water. “Okay, guys. Four hours from now we’re going to try mashing a tad of dog food into the milk. We’ll