Page 79 of The Night the Lights Went Out
“I just hope none of my friends see me driving around in this foreign show-off car,” Sugar said as she waited for Wade to open the passenger door.
“Since we’re just going to your house, I don’t think that will be a problem, Sugar,” Wade said. “But I must say you look mighty sexy sitting in the front seat.”
“Harrumph,” was all Sugar said in reply.
Wade caught Merilee’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Remember my friend Bill West? You met him when you came to my construction site.”
Merilee kept her face passive. “Of course. Your friend with the grandparents from Sandersville.”
“That’s right. He says he thinks he knows why we both find you look familiar.”
“Really?” She was glad she was sitting in the backseat, where she could hide in the shadows.
“Yeah. He thinks you were in the news or something some time ago. Like your picture was in the papers a lot. Bill thought maybe you won a beauty pageant or something.”
“No. I’ve never won a beauty pageant.”
She felt him watching her, so she smiled and let her gaze slide away.
They’d reached Sugar’s porch and Wade opened both her door and Sugar’s, then led Sugar inside to retrieve the wrap. Merilee closed the back door, then waited for him to return, welcoming the frigid air as she breathed it into her lungs, then exhaled in white puffs. By the time Wade got back to the car, Merilee’s equilibrium had returned and she’d made a promise to herself that she’d forget about everything and just enjoy herself tonight.
Although Sugar’s mink wrap smelled vaguely of mothballs, Merilee was glad for its warmth and for the fact that the head and paws were no longer attached. Sitting back in the plush leather seat, she allowed herself to truly relax for the first time since that awful night at the Tybee beach house.
On the way up to the Blackfords’ Lake Lanier house, Wade drove them through downtown Sweet Apple, where scarecrows sporting different themes—provided by local schools and businesses—were attached to all the lampposts lining the road, giving Main Street a festive fall air and filling Merilee with a sense of contentment and possibility. She turned her head toward Wade. “I hope you don’t mind getting there a little early. Heather said I didn’t need to, that she had plenty of people to help, but I just want to make sure that all the auction bidding forms are filled out accurately and everything’s in place.”
“Not a problem. Although with Heather in charge, I don’t think you need to worry about everything not being perfect.”
“True.” She continued to look at him, admiring the way the streetlights traveled across the strong planes of his face, accentuating a shadow on his nose where he’d broken it playing football in high school. It did nothing to detract from his appearance. If asked, Merilee would probably say it only enhanced it. “I know you already said it wouldn’t, but are you sure this won’t be too awkward for you?”
“I wouldn’t have said yes if I thought it would be. We’re all adults now. Heather and I aren’t the same people we were, and all those feelings we had are long gone. She’s moved on, and so have I. Old history. Besides, it’s a little too late to change my mind now, isn’t it?”
“True,” Merilee said, allowing herself a secret smile as she snuggled into the mink stole. Even the traffic jam on Highway 400 that took forty minutes to get through didn’t faze her. After ten minutes, she stopped looking at her watch, enjoying the sense of having no cares or responsibilities for at least another half hour. She turned to Wade again. “The maps look great—thanks so much for the frames and for hanging them.”
“You’re welcome. And they do look nice there, don’t they?” He frowned, studying the line of cars at a standstill in front of him. “I can’t believe I didn’t know about that cemetery until now—either from her or my grandmother. Sugar swears that’s not the reason she won’t sell the property, though.”
“I think I understand. She’s the last holdout. I respect that. If I’d lived here all my life and seen all these changes, I wouldn’t want anything else to change, either—especially if I could control it.”
Wade drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “I’m pretty sure that’s part of it. Except...”
“Except what?” Merilee asked, but she thought she knew. Thought she could hear the sound of running feet in the dark woods and the scent of pine straw filling her nostrils. She didn’t know how much Sugar had told Wade about her past, and it wasn’t Merilee’s place to tell him.
“Except there’s more to it. There was an old farm with a family cemetery on it near the Forsyth County line that used to belong to the Prescotts. When it was developed, they kept the cemetery there on the little hill and planted trees around it to protect it. Even Sugar said it didn’t look half bad, which, as you know, is a huge compliment. So she knows it can be done and done well.
“And it’s not even about not putting up another neighborhood—although Sugar doesn’t hide how much she hates the idea, which probably has more to do with her hatred of developers than with preserving her land. But when we used to discuss it, she would get an almost feral gleam in her eye, so I stopped bringing it up, just for self-preservation. It just left me with a feeling that... there’s something else.”
Merilee settled back in her seat without saying anything, thinking of all the bad memories Sugar might have of the woods—of Dixie. And Curtis. But wouldn’t that make her want to see them razed?
The traffic eased up and Wade maneuvered his car into the fast lane, and soon they were barreling down the highway. Merilee closed her eyes, enjoying the hum of the engine and the steady rumble of the road, determined to enjoy the evening and forget the past, despite all the warning bells sounding in her head telling her otherwise.
Twenty-seven
When Wade and Merilee reached the neighborhood at Lake Lanier, the line of valeted cars started long before they were near enough to see the house. They were immediately met by a young man dressed like a nineteenth-century butler, wearing a white tie and tails, who greeted them and happily took the key to Wade’s car.
Wade leaned toward Merilee and whispered, “I feel underdressed.”
Merilee whispered back, “Me, too. I somehow don’t think a corset and hoop skirt would be out of place.”
The decorating committee—its plans tightly guarded—had outdone themselves, as evidenced by the golf cart disguised as a carriage that quickly appeared to take them up to the house. Merilee was pretty confident that Heather had probably tried to get real horses and carriages so it would be more authentic, but the logistics would have been impossible, even for her.
