The Man She Married. Ann Defee
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ma’am. I surely will. Thanks.”
“Hey, Snookums,” Maizie cooed to the baby. “What a little cutie you are.” Ali’s crying stopped almost immediately when Maizie lifted her out of the pram.
When Hannah was a baby Maizie had spent countless hours in an antique rocking chair she’d inherited from her Grammy Nelson. On a whim she’d put that lovely old chair in Miss Scarlett’s. It was a beautiful addition to the décor as well as a perfect place for meditation when time allowed.
Maizie hummed and rocked while “Crabass’s” mask hardened. Baby Ali fell asleep almost immediately. Maizie kissed the top of the baby’s head, breathing in that sweet infant smell. There was nothing quite as innocent as a sleeping angel—awake was a different story. Ten peaceful minutes passed before Maizie admitted she had to do something about her client.
“PJ, Paige,” she whispered, trying to be as quiet. “I need to take care of Ms. Crabtree.”
“About time,” Jeannine muttered.
“We’re finished.” PJ appeared with an armload of clothing. “Paige found lots of stuff,” she said with a conspiratorial wink.
The young mom tucked the sleeping baby back into the pram and then pulled out her platinum American Express card. “Miz Walker, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you taking care of Ali.”
“You’re very welcome. We like to think of ourselves as a full-service operation. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to rinse off my client’s mask.”
“It’s about time!” Mrs. C exclaimed when Maizie rejoined her.
Who could mistake those dulcet tones?
“Your skin’s going to feel so soft that you won’t mind the wait.”
“I doubt that, but get on with it.” The woman’s gravelly voice was like fingernails on a chalkboard.
“Here we go.” Maizie dabbed cleanser on Jeannine’s face. Although she’d used her very best product, she couldn’t see a dime’s worth of difference.
“How is that? Doesn’t your skin feel better?” Maizie turned Ms. Crabtree’s chair toward the mirror.
She employed her best shopkeeper’s voice to make certain she didn’t utter anything particularly vile. Fortunately Maizie was saved by the bell—the one on the front door.
“Hey, Paige. How’s it going?” The sound of a man’s voice in Miss Scarlett’s was unusual enough to be remarkable.
“Trip, my goodness, what are you doing here?” Paige sounded more like a lovesick teen than a mom. Or maybe a femme fatale.
When Maizie glanced up to check out what all the fuss was about, she was almost bowled over. Heavens to Betsy. The man talking to Paige could be Pierce Brosnan’s younger brother. Even the vestal virgins would be cheering.
“Maizie, PJ, this is Trip Fitzgerald. He’s the tennis coach at the country club. A bunch of us take lessons from him.”
How interesting. No wonder the gorgeous hunk had tanned legs and broad shoulders. Trip Fitzgerald was exactly what the jealousy Cupid had ordered.
“Mr. Fitzgerald, you’re new in town, too, right?” Maizie walked over to shake the newcomer’s hand.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been here a month. I’m originally from Atlanta.”
“Really. Well, welcome to Magnolia Bluffs. I hope we’ve been hospitable.”
“I couldn’t have asked for better.” His grin was boyish, charming and damned near perfect—an orthodontist’s dream.
“I need to get a birthday present for my mother,” he said, looking around. “Several of my students said you’re the best place in town.”
“We certainly try to be. PJ—”
PJ almost tripped over her own feet racing to his side. “I can help you. What does your mom like? We have all kinds of pretties.”
Before he could answer PJ was setting up a display of gift items that would be daunting for a seasoned shopper.
“Wow. That’s quite a selection,” he said, showcasing that grin again. “You ladies should come for tennis lessons. We have something for everyone. Groups, privates, semiprivates, you name it, we’ve got it. I think you’d really like it. It’s good exercise and a great way to get a tan.”
Maizie’s mind was whirling a mile a minute—which generally landed her in a heap of trouble.
“Tennis lessons sound like exactly what I need.” Were they ever.
Chapter Five
By noon Maizie was more than ready to tuck into a plate of juicy barbecue. It had been an interesting morning and she was tempted to treat herself to a frosty brew when she arrived early to meet Liza, but the thought of the carbs held her back.
The Crabtree ordeal and meeting Trip Fitzgerald had been followed by an “I’ve worn this at least a dozen times but now that it has a stain on the front I want to return it” and an “oh my, you mean you can’t dry it on hot” complaint. Retail wasn’t for sissies.
“Hey.” Liza breezed in and gave her twin a hug. Lately she did everything with a spring in her step, and why not? She was a newlywed and madly in love. Not that Maizie was jealous or anything.
“Have you ordered?” she asked as she took a seat on the picnic table bench.
“Nope. I was waiting for you. I’ve been studying the menu and I think I’ll go for the rib plate. See?” Maizie made a point of displaying her casual attire. “I changed into a T-shirt and jeans.”
“Good girl. Let’s see, what do I want?” Liza picked up the menu. “I think I’ll try the rib plate, too. I—”
Before she could continue her thought, the waitress appeared armed with two huge containers of iced tea. “I was bettin’ you gals would like a cold drink.” She set the glasses down and pulled out her order pad. “The ribs are looking mighty good, and the peach cobbler—whew.” She jokingly swiped her forehead. “I can put on five pounds just smellin’ that stuff. It’s downright sinful.”
“Both of us want the rib platter. We’ll discuss dessert later.” Liza put the menu back behind the Tabasco sauce.
“Excellent choice. If you need anything else, give me a holler.”
As soon as the waitress strolled off, Liza got down to why she’d wanted to do lunch.
“I’ve been putting a lot of thought into this, and I’m not convinced a shopping trip is what you need. I suspect there’s something more serious going here. You’re usually Little Miss Sunshine, and darn it, I want you to be happy again.”
Maizie fiddled with the salt shaker. Should she or shouldn’t she involve her twin? Not only was Liza a newlywed and desperately in love, she was also managing a huge property development project. She didn’t have time to listen to Maizie moan about her marital status.
As a matter of fact, both Liza and Kenni were acting like love-struck loons. It was enough to make a person gag. Deep down, Maizie had to admit she was jealous. She and Clay used to share that kind of passion, and by gosh, she wanted it again.
“I’ve decided to take up tennis,” she blurted.
“Tennis?” The look of confusion on Liza’s face was priceless. “You? Are you serious? The most strenuous thing you do is paint your nails.”
“I’ll have you know I played tennis in high school.” Sure, she wasn’t all that athletic, but Liza’s comment ruffled her tail feathers.
“Oh, I forgot. You were a regular Martina Navratilova.” Liza laughed at her own joke. “But what does