All That Charm: (A Morning Glory Novel Book 3) Page 2

  After an uncomfortable minute ticked by, Jess said, “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Are you a virgin?”

  “It’s none of your business,” Eden said, feeling heat bloom in her cheeks. She’d shared a lot with her friends, but they’d agreed that unless it was a medical issue, bedroom talk was off the table. Or maybe she’d agreed because she had no tales to tell. Okay, maybe some heavy petting and one near orgasm in the back of Clem Aiken’s truck, but sex wasn’t a topic she felt comfortable discussing, and even though they knew tons about each other, Rosemary and Jess had always respected her privacy. Lacy . . . not so much. Her former friend went to her grave being the only person who knew Eden had yet to surrender her V card.

  Jess slid Rosemary a knowing glance, but they remained silent.

  Sucking in a deep breath, Eden said, “So technically, yes.”

  “Oh, wow. I would have never . . . I mean, I knew you didn’t . . . Wow,” Rosemary said, sinking onto the stool.

  Jess said, “So not even with Clem? Seriously, E?”

  Eden merely shrugged and remained stone silent.

  Rosemary reached out and patted her hand like she’d been diagnosed with a disease or something. “It’s okay. You’ve not had much opportunity.”

  “But you dated Clem Aiken.” Jess squinted her eyes like she didn’t quite believe Eden.

  And that’s because everyone knew Clem Aiken was the town man whore. His exploits were fodder for the gossip mill all over Morning Glory and two adjoining counties. And in the Bahamas. That’s what had done it for Eden. She’d ended their relationship when Delores, the other manager at the Penny Pinchers, found out from Rachel Bartlett that Clem had a ménage à trois while on vacation. Eden couldn’t handle giving her virginity to a man who could handle two women at once. There was something not right about giving it up to a man like that. So she hadn’t. And that was that. “Yeah. I dated him. I didn’t do him though.”

  Rosemary slid another glance at Jess. “Well, do you have any questions?”

  Eden laughed. “Why? Are you going to give me the birds-and-bees talk? Draw pictures? Lord.”

  Jess smiled. “Do you need pictures?”

  “No. My mother was a stripper. I know how it all works. And I have, you know . . .” She left off, not wanting to say the actual word.

  “Masturbated?” Jess finished.

  Eden closed her eyes, opened them, and then took another cookie she didn’t need. “I don’t want to talk about my sex life . . . or rather lack of one. I share plenty with you girls, but I’d rather not share details of my alone time . . . or time with a dude. I’m not a freak, you know.”

  “We know. But so you know, it’s perfectly natural to masturbate,” Jess said, donning her clinical voice. “In fact, it’s very healthy to have an awareness of your body and its needs.”

  “Jess,” Eden said, nodding toward their friend. Rosemary was already approaching the shade of the poinsettias sitting along the stacked stone hearth behind her. Rosemary might be married to a sexy Brooklyn pizza maker and having sex every night, but she was her mother’s daughter. Which meant she was a true lady who didn’t talk about things like tampons, masturbation, or voting for a democrat.

  Besides, it wasn’t as if Eden had a hang-up about being a virgin. If she found the right guy, it would be a nonissue. But so far, she hadn’t found a man she cared about enough to sleep with. Because she wasn’t her mother. When Eden had sex, it would mean something. Or it would at least be more than what she’d had with Clem Aiken.

  “Okay, okay,” Jess said, holding up her hands.

  “So when do you leave?” Rosemary asked, her color fading a bit.

  “In a few weeks. Sunny should arrive in a week or so. She spent Christmas with some friends. Dragging her feet as much as possible.”

  “Why?” Rosemary asked.

  Jess’s gaze met Eden’s, acknowledging she understood. Sunny had left Morning Glory when the girls were freshmen after her longtime boyfriend knocked up a fluffy debutante at a fraternity party. Three weeks before Sunny was to graduate valedictorian of MHS, she ran away, leaving Eden and their mother behind. For almost a month, they didn’t know where Sunny was or who she was with, but since Eden’s older sister had already turned eighteen and left of her own volition, they couldn’t report her missing. Finally, Sunny had called and told them she was married. The whole thing had been a shit storm and had everyone in the small town talking. Sunny had told Eden she’d come back when her husband got out of the Marines, that she could handle coming home with Alan. But now Alan was gone, and Sunny was coming home alone.

  “It’s not easy taking care of Mama. Sunny deserved to have a nice holiday with her friends. She’s hurting over Alan and won’t have time to do much of anything once she gets back here.”

  “That’s true,” Rosemary said.

  “Hey, gals, want to go into town?” Sal said, strolling into the kitchen and rubbing his belly. “I have to go to the restaurant. One of the ovens isn’t working right. I’ll treat you guys to eggnog lattes at the Lazy Frog.”

  “We have spice tea,” Rosemary said, nodding toward the cups of steaming water awaiting the spiced tea.

  Jess shook her head. “No, let’s take him up on it. Sassy only serves them until New Year’s Eve. Plus Sal’s buying.”

  Rosemary looked at Eden.

  “Okay,” Eden said not really caring one way or the other. Her aunt Ruby Jean was sitting with Eden’s mother, giving Eden an evening off with her friends. A regular sitter came during the week so Eden could work. It was hell supplementing Medicare with what little Eden made, but it was worth it. As much as Eden hated Penny Pinchers, work was a much-needed break from a world of bedpans, towering bottles of medication, and her mother’s acerbic complaints. Eden was thankful her aunt was good enough to spell her every now and then.

  Rosemary looked at Sal. “We’re all getting larges. Bring your wallet, Brooklyn.”

  Ten minutes later, the girls found themselves at their table. They’d sat at the four top since sixth grade year when Lacy deemed they needed a place to meet and have “drinks.” Lacy had spent the summer before junior high watching episodes of Sex and the City—unbeknownst to her parents—and assured the other girls they must have a place to be seen even in small-town Morning Glory. Once a week they managed girl time at the local coffee/ice cream shop, and the table near the back left corner had witnessed several breakups, tales of first kisses, and more than enough hilarity to last a lifetime. Every time Eden sank down into her regular spot, her back to the ice machine, her gaze was pulled to the empty spot across from her. In fact, they all three glanced at that empty spot . . . before tucking the pain away and doing the living Lacy expected them to do.

  The Lazy Frog’s owner, Sassy Grigsby, looked pleased as punch they were the last customers of the day. She locked the door and flipped the sign to Closed before heading over. “It’s cold as a well-digger’s butt out there. Why are you girls out in this?”

  “Sal had to fix something on an oven. We came here for lattes.”

  Sassy beamed. “Eggnog all around?”

  The girls nodded.

  Jess looked at the empty seat. “Still weird.”

  “Yeah,” Rosemary said, blinking rapidly and turning toward Sassy. “Can you make mine light, Sassy?”

  Sassy nodded and went to work on the lattes. For a few seconds, all three of them sat quietly, almost a moment of silence in memory of Lacy.

  “So you want to have a farewell party?” Rosemary asked Eden. “We could have something at our house. Maybe invite your aunt, Sunny, and a few of your coworkers. And if your mother can manage . . .”

  “No.” Eden shook her head. “That’s not necessary. I’d rather just have dinner together or something. I don’t want a fuss.”

  “That’s our E. Never wanting a fuss,” Jess said with a smile. “It’s amazing how someone who always blends in can be such a powerhouse on stage. You’re like night
and day.”

  Eden smiled. “I’m not. I’m just me.”

  Rosemary reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m going to miss you.”

  A sudden thickness clogged Eden’s throat just as doubt slithered through her belly. “Yeah, me too.”

  Rosemary shook her head. “Gosh, it’s going to be so weird with both of you gone. I’ll be in Morning Glory alone. This time last year, all four of us were here, and next week it will just be me. How did that happen?”

  For a moment they let that thought sink in.

  “Life changes so fast, huh?” Jess said with a slow shake of her head. “I never could have imagined Rosemary would be married and living on Hollybrook Lane. And I damned sure wouldn’t have pictured me living on the beach with Ryan ‘the Brain’ Reyes. I would have laid down money against that.”

  “Wow, you were still married to Benton this time last year,” Eden said, taking the steaming-hot latte from Sassy. “How weird is that?”

  The other girls took their drinks, and Sassy waited for them to take a sip and mmmm in pleasure. Then she went back to scrub down the counters and balance the register.

  “It’s damned weird, but I’m so glad I let Benton go. Ryan hits the spot,” Jess murmured.

  “I bet he does,” Rosemary drawled.

  “Look at you making G-spot jokes,” Jess said.

  Like clockwork, Rosemary blushed, which seemed to amuse Jess even more. Rosemary cleared her throat. “That wasn’t a . . . sexual joke. So, I wonder what Eden will bring to the table this time next year.”

  “Speaking of bringing something to the table . . .” Jess reached into her purse and pulled out the familiar paisley ditty bag.

  Eden stared at the bag, sadness pinging inside her. A few months back when she and Rosemary had gone to see Jess, her friend had tried to give the bag holding Lacy’s charm bracelet to her. But she hadn’t taken it. Eden hadn’t been at a place to take on the challenge Lacy had left them. At that point Sunny still waited in North Carolina for word on Alan, and Eden had no hope of ever changing her life. She’d handed the bag back to Jess and told her to wait until it was time.

  Lacy had left her best friends with a quest. Their late friend had spent most of her life in Morning Glory, but her joy had been in traveling. With a natural zest for living and a curiosity that couldn’t be contained, Lacy had lived for trips to Paris and jaunts to the Caribbean islands. When she’d been diagnosed with advanced cervical cancer, she’d been planning a trip to Australia and New Zealand. Socking away ten grand was tough for the paralegal, but since Lacy lived at home with her parents, she was able to save the needed money. But she would never see someone play a didgeridoo or swim with sharks—yeah, she had that on the list—because that son of a bitch cancer took her before she could.

  Lacy hadn’t given up easily. She wanted the money she’d set aside to be used for living out a wish, so she’d divided it among her three dearest friends and left them with a request. Each woman would use the 3,300 dollars to carry out a wish she’d always had. After each completed something she’d always longed to do, she’d choose a charm and attach it to the travel charm bracelet Lacy had received from her grandmother when she was ten. Once the bracelet was complete, they were to choose someone who had no hope left and give the bracelet to her.

  It was all very cryptic, mystic, and very Lacy-like.

  So far, Rosemary had used the money to fund her trip to New York City where she met Sal and bumbled into a terrific opportunity for her vintage pillows. And Jess had used the money to rent the beach house she’d always dreamed about while she’d healed from her divorce, which led her to Ryan. And now it was Eden’s turn to live out her wish. In a few weeks’ time, she’d pack up the Mercury Milan—which was in bad need of new tires but would have to do—and head south toward New Orleans. There she’d enroll in the college she’d passed up eleven years ago, supplementing her student loans by working as a dance-school instructor.

  Leaving Morning Glory was what she’d always wanted, but still, she felt so . . . scared. Yeah, she could admit it. She was terrified of going out into the big bad world, but even more terrified of not doing it.

  Eden lifted the bracelet, admiring the tiny Empire State Building charm Rosemary had added along with the jeweled flip-flop Jess had attached in the fall. “I guess it’s truly my turn.”

  Jess smiled. “Don’t be afraid, Eden. Something good’s waiting for you. Karma demands it.”

  Eden folded her hand around the warm metal and summoned determination. It was her turn. Lacy had helped clear a path by providing her money and a challenge. Time to walk the walk. “Guess it’s time to put on my big-girl panties and get what I want.”

  “And that is . . . ?” Rosemary drawled.

  “For now, a degree in theatre, but one day I want my name on the marquee.”

  Jess covered Eden’s fist with her hand. Rosemary added hers atop. For a moment they looked at their joined hands. Rosemary smiled and said, “Okay, Lacy. Time to do work for Eden. Let’s get her a happily-ever-after.”

  Eden looked hard at the sign as if the letters might suddenly rearrange themselves and spell out something other than Closed.

  But the letters stubbornly refused to move. Damn them.

  This can’t be right. Eden ran a finger over the print and tried to peer inside the glass door. Inside, it was empty save a few inspirational posters on the wall along with empty clothes displays where leotards and dance shoes had likely hung. Eden stepped back and dug her cell phone from the depths of her oversized bag. Dialing the number on the sign, she paced toward the end of the wide porch. The dance studio was in an old house off Magazine Street, which had been a bitch to park on. Eden wasn’t so good at parallel parking. Still, the charming gray studio nestled between a knitting shop and a dry cleaner looked like the perfect place to teach little ballerinas, so excitement quickly replaced aggravation at nearly hitting a Volvo that had parked over the line. But then she’d climbed the steps to find a darkened studio and the sign taped haphazardly to the door.

  “Hello,” a voice said on the other end of the line.

  “Hi, I’m calling about the dance school?” Eden said.

  “Oh, sorry, we’re no longer in business.”

  “But I don’t understand. I talked to Jill the first of December.”

  The woman clucked. “Oh, I’m sorry. Jill decided to close two weeks ago. Her father passed away and her circumstances changed. We can recommend a new school for your daughter.”

  “Uh, yeah,” Eden said, glanced back through the window, “but I was supposed to start teaching there today. No one called me.”

  “Oh no. Is this . . . Eve?”

  “No. Eden.”

  “That’s right. Eden. Of course. Jill said she emailed you before the holidays. Did you not receive the message?” the woman asked. Her tone was one of concern, but somehow it seemed forced. Like she had to be nice but really wanted to get off the phone. Eden didn’t blame her.

  “No,” Eden said, shaking her head, something akin to panic welling inside her stomach. She had to have a job. Everything depended on the three hundred dollars she’d make each week. The grants and loans she’d obtained for school only covered so much. She had to eat.

  God, what a string of bad luck.

  Eden had arrived in New Orleans on Saturday. Well, if one could call breaking down on the Bonnet Carré Spillway arriving. She’d sputtered to the side of the long bridge, uttering every curse word she could think of. Then she’d spent a good five minutes using precious data on her cell phone looking up tow services, worrying about the dwindling amount in her checking account and how this snafu would impact it. While she was sitting there, flinching every time an eighteen-wheeler whooshed past her, an older man had pulled up. Together they’d lifted the hood and stared at the innards of her car. The gentleman had walked back to his rather beat-up vehicle, pulled out a gallon of water, and poured some into her radiator. Thankfully, her car started and sh
e kicked it in to the Kenner exit. Eventually, after a few wrong turns, she found an AutoZone.

  Eden suspected her water pump was failing. Big Eddie, the guy who worked on cars in her neighborhood in Morning Glory, had warned her it needed replacing, but she’d ignored it in favor of paying a plumber to fix her mother’s toilet. Thankfully, replacing the water pump on her car wasn’t too hard thanks to a YouTube step-by-step instructional video. The manager of the AutoZone allowed her to pull around back to change it. Took a whole hour to complete, and afterward Eden sent up a silent prayer of thanks to her neighbor Dally who had insisted on putting together a tool kit as a parting gift. The AutoZone manager seemed impressed Eden could use a socket wrench. What he didn’t know was how many other things Eden could do because calling in a professional was never an option. She had changed out the heating element on the dryer, spackled drywall, and replaced PVC piping under the sink. She was a Jill-of-all-trades thanks to being near poverty level.

  To top off the water pump going out, Eden received another doozy when she arrived at her new apartment. Chateau Dauphine had looked so quaint in the Internet pictures, with its shady courtyard filled with banana plants and aged-brick façade. Eden had been excited to see the apartment she’d rented.

  But first she had to figure out parking. There was no lot, and the parallel parking on the street freaked her out. Not to mention daylight slipping away, leaving a filmy gray over the city. Finally she found a spot two blocks over near a dicey-looking club. Telling herself it would be fine, that her poor old car fit the run-down neighborhood, she climbed out, carrying a large duffel bag with her clothes and an inflatable air mattress. Clutching her key chain and small canister of pepper spray, she locked her car.

  “Hey-ey, sugah,” a woman called out, wiggling her fingers at Eden.

  “Hello,” Eden said, jerking her gaze away from the scantily clad woman with a bad weave . . . who looked like she was smoking a joint. Dear Lord. A man came out of the club and joined her. His goatee brushed his faded T-shirt, and his pants looked as if they’d not been washed since the George W. Bush administration. The woman passed the joint to him.