“Oh my God,” Pokey said suddenly. “I forgot. I finally did call Angela—my sorority sister, the one who’s a buyer for Belk?”

“Does she know Celia?” Annajane asked.

“She’d heard of her, but she didn’t really have any dirt on her. However, she did give me the name and phone number of a friend of hers who might know more about the details of Celia’s clothing business,” Pokey said. She reached in her pocket and handed over what looked like the page from a Bob the Builder coloring book that had been written on in red crayon.

“Her name is Katie Derscheid,” Pokey said, yawning widely again. “I wasn’t sure how to spell it. Just call her and mention Angela Hooker’s name.”

*   *   *

At some point in the evening, Annajane dimly recognized the sound of rain on the roof and the brush of tree limbs against the windowpanes. She opened one eye and saw a jagged flash of lightning streaking across the deep blue sky outside. She snuggled deeper into the down comforter and pulled a spare pillow over her head to drown out the noise, glad not to be out in the storm.

She drifted off to sleep again, but maybe an hour later was aware of a shaft of light streaming in through the doorway. She lifted her head off the pillow and spied a small, forlorn little body standing in the doorway.

It was Petey, clad in his cotton Thomas the Tank Engine pajamas, sucking his thumb and trailing a bedraggled but much-loved blue silk bordered blanket.

“Hey, buddy,” she said groggily. “What’s up?”

“I’m scared,” he said, moving his thumb aside only long enough to speak.

“Want me to walk you back to your bed?”

He shook his head side to side, vigororously.

“Want to go sleep with your mommy and daddy?”

“The baby is with Mommy and Daddy.”

She sighed and scooted over on the queen-sized bed. “Come on, then.”

Petey favored her with a tremulous smile before crawling up into the bed beside her. Annajane rubbed his back the way she’d seen Pokey do so many times, and a few minutes later, she heard his breathing become soft and rhythmic. Smiling to herself, she turned on her side and fell back asleep herself, only dimly aware of the warm little body spooned up against her back.

Maybe an hour later, she heard the bedroom door creak open. Looking up, she saw Pokey silhouetted in the doorway.

“Hey,” Pokey whispered. “Pete’s in there snoring so loud I can’t sleep. Okay if I bunk in with you?”

Annajane lifted the edge of the comforter to reveal the sleeping form of Petey.

Pokey laughed softly, and walked around to the other side of the bed, yawning widely as she shifted her young son into the middle of the bed. Moments later, mother and son were breathing in tandem.

Once again, Annajane managed to fall back asleep. The rain began to beat at the windows, heavier now, and the howl of the wind became ominous. She shifted in the bed and now felt a warm, damp spot where she’d been sleeping moments earlier. She sniffed the sheet, sniffed Petey.

“Crap,” she muttered softly. Wrapping herself in the quilt from the foot of the bed, she tiptoed out of the room, headed for the sofa in the den. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would either find a house to buy or check into a room at the Pinecone Motor Lodge.

29

Annajane felt small hands lightly patting her face. Opening one eye, she spied Petey, staring at her intently. “Curious George,” he said.

Sleep deprived, she turned over so that she was facing the back of the sofa. He shook her shoulder. “Curious George,” he repeated. She felt her head being struck with something, and reached back and caught his hand, which was holding the remote control.

“Petey! Leave Annajane alone.”

Annajane rolled onto her back. Now Pokey stood over her, holding an outstretched mug of coffee.

The room was still in half darkness. “What time is it?” Annajane mumbled.

“A smidge after seven,” Pokey said. She sat on the edge of the ottoman, and Annajane, with effort, managed to pull herself upright.

“Curious George,” Petey said loudly. “I want Curious George.” He slung his damp, pee-scented blanket across her knees and climbed into her lap.

“Sorry,” Pokey said, deftly scooping the child off Annajane and onto the ottoman. “Petey is our early bird. I’ve tried everything to get him to sleep late and let us alone in the morning, but it’s no use. Little guys don’t know numbers, and they have no concept of time. So now I’ve trained him to wait until the streetlights go off outside. Then and only then, he can come downstairs to the den and turn on PBS. He loves Curious George and Dinosaur Train.”

“Those are television shows?” Annajane took the mug and inhaled the hot coffee fumes.

“His favorites,” Pokey said, clicking on the television. “How come you wound up sleeping down here?”

Annajane handed her the damp blanket. “Your son sprung a leak last night.”

“Sorry about that,” Pokey said with a laugh. “Welcome to my world.”

“Yeah, about that,” Annajane said. “It won’t hurt your feelings if I find myself someplace else to stay?”

“Not in the least,” Pokey said. “I’d stay someplace else if I were you. Hell, I’d stay someplace else if I were me, but I think my husband might object.”

Annajane reached out and tousled Petey’s strawberry-blond hair. “Don’t kid yourself, sweetie. You’ve got the world on a string. A beautiful home, loving husband, great kids. I’d trade places with you in a New York minute.”

“I know you would,” Pokey said softly. “But you’ll have all that pretty soon, too, Annajane. I know you will, if you just hang in there and make up your mind that he’s worth fighting for.”

*   *   *

Later that morning, Annajane swung her car into the parking lot at the Quixie plant and groaned when she saw the familiar silver Saab parked in its customary slot.

You can do this, she told herself. Celia is not the boogeyman. And you are not a quitter.

Heads turned to stare at her as she walked through the reception area and into the back office. Obviously, everybody had heard the rumors about her and Mason.

She smiled and ignored the stares and whispers. She found Voncile at her desk, stationed right outside Mason’s office. Voncile was on the phone, but when she looked up and saw Annajane, she waved her into Mason’s office.

He’d just slammed down the phone and was staring intently at the computer monitor on his desktop, frowning, when she walked in.

“Hey,” she said, feeling unaccountably shy. Hadn’t she come just a flashlight beam away from hot messy car sex with this man just a few days ago?

“Morning,” Mason said.

“Something wrong?”

Mason rubbed his chin and looked away. “Not good news. I’ve asked Davis to stop in for a chat, and I’ll fill you in when he gets here.”

He held up a can of Quixie. “Want one?”

She shuddered. “It’s a little early for me to start on the red stuff. What gives?”

He took a long chug of the soda. “Just getting myself back to the brand, like we talked about yesterday. I hadn’t realized how long it had been since I’d actually really stopped and tasted our product.”

“Did you come to any conclusions?”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “For one thing, I think it’s a pretty darned good waker-upper.”

“Better than coffee?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think we can claim that, based on the amount of caffeine in Quixie, but it’s just as good as some of these high-priced energy drinks that are killing us at convenience stores.”

“Hold that thought,” Annajane said, grabbing a pen and a yellow legal pad from his desktop. “What else?”

“You were right about the taste of celebration. I’m thinking Quixie reminds people of good times, happy occasions, boat rides on the lake, summers at the beach, campouts under the stars. Fun, wholesome stuff. That’s what we started out selling, that’s what we need to get back to.”