“I’ll save that for the BCS Bowl.”
“So you think they will be playing for the National Championship?”
He bent to give her a kiss but stopped.
“Of course I do. I know it. So does everybody else. Don’t you keep up, woman?”
“Lately, I do good to keep up with you.”
“That’s a priority I like.”
She turned to gather her purse and tray of brownies.
“Aren’t you going to get your sweatshirt?” Brantley asked.
“What sweatshirt?” she asked. “It’s warm out. I don’t need a sweatshirt.”
“Your game day sweatshirt.”
“You mean an Alabama sweatshirt? I don’t have one.”
“You are wearing
Lucy bowed her head so he could see the headband. “She never has and this is what I always wear.”
“You can’t even see that. Your curls cover it up.”
“You’re going to have to be satisfied with me and so is Missy. It’s all I’ve got.”
“I can fix that. We’re going to Clayton’s. I’ll get you a t-shirt like mine and a sweatshirt for when it cools off later.” Clayton’s was the sporting goods store over near the country club.
He looked her up and down again. “Why don’t you change out of those topsiders into your Keds? That would be cute.”
“My Keds? Since when to you have an opinion about what I wear on my feet?”
“I’ve got an opinion. I’d like to see you in some really tall boots. Black. With studs.”
“I’ll go to Clayton’s with you, but I believe I’ll keep these shoes on.”
“Well, it won’t be the same, but come on.”
“And I am not wearing a cheerleader uniform.”
“I don’t even want you to. I have bad memories attached to some cheerleaders.”
“We have to be quick,” Lucy said. “I promised Missy I’d come early to help.”
His amber eyes sparkled at her. “Can you spare a moment for a guy to give his girl a kiss?”
Oh, yes, she could spare that. She turned her face up.
Lucy and Brantley were the first to arrive.
When Missy opened the door, she was wearing blue jeans and a number twelve Alabama football jersey with BRAGG lettered across the back. It had seen better days. It wasn’t usually in Missy’s nature to wear something that wasn’t entirely pristine, but since this shirt had actually seen those better days on Harris’s body on the field of Bryant-Denny Stadium, she made an exception. On Iron Bowl day, she also made an exception about serving only high quality food made from fresh ingredients. Harris had some weird superstition that demanded Chex Mix, pigs in a blanket, and cheese dip made from Velveeta and canned Rotel tomatoes. Missy might wrap Little Smokies in canned biscuit dough and she might serve them, but she was never going to be pleased about it. Of course, these things were just a postscript to the other fabulous food she would serve.
In spite of the retro processed food that she would have already made, Missy looked pretty happy today.
“Lucy! You’ve got a real game day shirt!”
“You can thank me.” Brantley stepped in and hugged Missy. “I have no hostess gift. My gift to you is Lucy Mead appropriately dressed.”
“You never have a hostess gift,” Missy said.
“I also got her a sweatshirt. She’ll put it on later.”
“Oh, good God,” Missy said. “Don’t tell me you’ve started in on her about that. Leave her alone about a damned sweatshirt and shorts.”
“What?” Lucy asked.
“Brantley likes the look of shorts and a sweatshirt on a woman. And Keds, with socks—close fitting white socks, to be exact, that come just over the anklebone. I’m surprised he’s not trying to get you to put on Keds.”
Like she’d been wearing that day in Savannah when she’d worried so much that she’d looked sloppy. Maybe he’d liked the look of her that day as much as she’d liked the look of him, even if their visit had ended on a sour note. Suddenly, she decided. She was going to turn that sour note to a sweet one and she was going to do it tonight.
Brantley continued to banter with Missy. “She would not put on Keds. I could not make her. And you’re not supposed to know I like that look, Missy. But since you do, I do not apologize. There’s just something about it.”
“If I’m not supposed to know it, you shouldn’t have gotten drunk that time and waxed eloquent about it all over the place.”
Lucy would not have expected the warm, poignant feelings that washed over her. So many times she’d been in this house, single and alone, with Missy so gloriously happy with her family. For a long time, Lanie and Tolly had been alone too, but then Lanie had married Luke, followed by Tolly reuniting with Nathan. And Lucy was happy for them, truly happy.
But she had stood up with three brides at three weddings and she had been left standing alone. And sometimes it was hard to go into a restaurant and sit at a table for eight, with an empty chair beside her. Even on the odd occasion when she had a date, that chair still felt empty. But with Brantley it was different. She didn’t feel alone.
Now, Beau was running into the room, Harris behind him. They were dressed in matching number twelve jerseys and Brantley was lifting a squealing Beau over his head.
“If y’all wake up Lulu she’s yours for the day,” Missy promised. “And believe me, if she doesn’t get her nap out, she’s mean. She will bite you.”
Luke, Lanie, and Arabelle were coming up the walk now with Emma—also wearing a number twelve jersey—running ahead. Luke carried John Luke and Arabelle and Lanie carried white boxes that would be candy from Lanie’s shop.
“Miss Lucy!” Emma landed at her feet. “I got a one, two, three shirt, the same as Beau!”
Lucy dropped to her heels. “You look very snazzy.”
“That’s a one, two shirt.” Harris ruffled Emma’s hair. “And don’t you forget to tell Uncle Nathan when he gets back from the game that it’s way better than an eight, five shirt.”
“My Aunt Belle is here! She brings presents. Baby Avery went home.” Emma jumped up and down. And she was off.
Lucy looked up at the hugs and laughter going on all around her. This was family. And she would do well to learn to feel complete here with or without an empty chair.
“I’m going to find the pigs in a blanket and the cheese dip,” Brantley said.
“Please do,” Missy answered. “Eat yourself sick; eat it all before anybody whose opinion matters to me gets here.”
Brantley smiled and blew Lucy a kiss. “Will you be okay?”
It was the thing a man raised in the south and a veteran of cotillion class would ask his date, but Lanie laughed and pretended to swat at him. “She’s been okay with us without you around for years.”
Yes. She must remember that, especially after what she intended to do tonight.
“Let’s get that food put out before the masses arrive,” Lucy said. Tolly wasn’t here to keep them on task, so for today, she would take it up.
According to Missy, barbecue could not be cooked correctly at home without digging a pit and procuring hickory wood. Since she had no desire to ruin her landscaping, she had bought masses of pork, wings, chicken, and ribs from the best place in town, Depot Barbecue. However, the baked beans, corn casserole, slaw, and two kinds of potato salad were all her doing. She’d even made the pickles and the sandwich buns.
“You can’t tell anyone, Arabelle,” Missy said as she arranged deviled eggs on egg plates.
