Pokey made a face. “Sallie doesn’t come right out and call him that. His name is Brewer, and she claims he’s her investment guy. But every time I talk to her, it’s ‘Brewer took me to this fabulous new restaurant’ or ‘Brewer thinks I need a nicer car’ or ‘Brewer and I are taking a cruise in February.’ From what she says, he’s semiretired, and, I gather, just a teensy bit younger. Most importantly, to Sallie, anyway, he seems to have his own money.”
“What about Davis?” Annajane asked, “Has he been by to see the baby yet?”
Pokey sighed and gestured toward a mammoth flower arrangement sitting atop a dresser near the window. It was a towering affair of pink lilies, orchids, tulips, and roses that was only dwarfed by the five-foot-tall stuffed bear sitting beside it.
“He sent those last night,” she said. “With a very sweet card. Signed Davis and Celia.” She wrinkled her nose. “Although I’m certain Celia has no idea her name was signed to that card.”
Annajane shrugged off the mention of her former nemesis’s name. Although Celia and Davis were living in a grandiose new subdivision on the outskirts of Passcoe, she rarely ran into either of them, and when she did, she managed to grit her teeth and smile graciously. “Do you think Davis will ever actually marry her?”
“Gawd, I hope not,” Pokey exclaimed. “He’d never admit it to me, but I get the feeling there’s trouble in la-la land. He stopped by the house last week, and I got the distinct impression he was running away from home because he’d had another big fight with you-know-who. After a couple drinks, he told me that lawsuit the Baby Brand people brought against her is starting to heat up. He was complaining about the huge legal fees, which, of course, she expects him to help pay. And, he mentioned, her daddy and her two trashy sisters showed up out of the blue two weeks ago for a ‘visit,’ and, so far, they don’t show any signs of leaving. The poor sap. Her mother and her mother’s boyfriend only just went back home to Nebraska. After showing up uninvited, eating them out of house and home for nearly a month, to top it all off, they backed into Davis’s car on their way out of town and never offered to pay for the damage.”
“Wait a minute,” Annajane said. “Didn’t Celia tell everybody she was an orphan? And an only child?”
“Wishful thinking, apparently,” Mason said.
“Davis did call the house this morning while I was in the shower,” Pete said. “He left a message on the answering machine with some lame excuse about why he wasn’t going to be able to get over to the hospital to see you and the baby for the next few days. Something about his pool contractor and a gigantic screwup.”
Mason scowled. “He’s adding a pool now? Because a tennis court and a stable and a riding ring and a frickin’ guesthouse aren’t showy enough for two people?”
“He had to add a pool,” Pokey said. “Because we had a pool growing up at Cherry Hill. And he had to build the biggest, gaudiest, most ostentatious house this county has ever seen, just to show everybody how rich and successful he is, since we bought out his share of Quixie. And to house all these freaky relatives of Celia’s who keep showing up.”
“And to demonstrate that he has the biggest pecker in Passcoe,” Pete said.
“Way bigger than mine,” Mason added, with a wink.
Annajane clamped her hands gently over Sophie’s ears. “Little pitchers!” she reminded her husband and brother- and sister-in-law.
“Sorry,” Mason said, glancing over at his nephews. “Sorry, guys.”
But the boys and Sophie were busily helping themselves to the gift box of chocolates that had come with their Uncle Davis’s flower arrangement and hadn’t heard a word the grown-ups were saying.
“I better get these kids outta here before they start eating the flowers,” Pete announced. “Sophie, would you like to come help us pick out the turkey that’s gonna make your daddy’s bird look like a Colonel Sanders reject?”
“Okay,” the little girl said, polishing off a piece of candy. “But can we wait til Aunt Pokey opens my present?”
“Of course!” Pokey said, tearing at the multiple layers of tissue. A moment later, she held a small yellowed cardboard box in her hands. Lifting the top, she found a glittering object nestled on a bed of cotton.
She held it up for the others to see. It was a green rhinestone brooch in the shape of a pixie—a pixie holding an uptipped and intricately wrought ruby-red Quixie bottle.
“Sophie!” Pokey squealed. “Where on earth did you find this? I haven’t seen one of these since my daddy gave me one when I was a little girl just your age. Of course, I lost it almost immediately. It’s perfect. I love it.”
Sophie beamed and wriggled with delight at her aunt’s praise. “I have one, too,” she said, reaching back into her pocketbook to produce an identical pin.
“Annajane found a box of them when we were going through stuff from the attic over at Cherry Hill,” Mason said, his arm thrown across his wife’s shoulders. “According to Sallie, Granddad had them made as Christmas gifts for the top distributors’ wives back in the sixties.”
“There are only a half-dozen left in the box,” Annajane added, “but we found a jeweler in Asheville who’s copying them for us. They’ll be great little holiday giveaways for the women at the office.”
“Along with cash bonuses, right?” Pete added. “After that kick-ass summer promotion upped sales forty percent, I think everybody in the company deserves something extra in their Christmas stocking this year.”
Mason nodded in agreement. “Bonuses are definitely on the agenda for the next board meeting.”
Pokey was busy pinning the brooch to her hospital gown. “Now that you mention it, I think I remember Grandmama Bayless wearing a pin just like this one at Christmas.”
“Only hers was the real thing,” Mason said. “Emerald and diamond chips and rubies. Sallie said she still has it but never wears it because she thinks it looks tacky.”
Sophie looked up at Annajane with interest. “What’s tacky?”
“Tacky is in the eye of the beholder,” Annajane told her. “It’s a word some people use for something they think is in poor taste.”
“But this pin is not in poor taste at all. It’s just beautiful,” Pokey declared. She reached for her niece and gave her a hug. “And you’re beautiful for thinking of me and giving it to me. And when Livvy gets as grown up as you, I’ll let her borrow it for special occasions.”
“Oh, we’ve got another one for Olivia back at the house,” Mason said. “And we’ve got this, too, for a special toast.”
He reached into a shopping bag he’d set on the floor and brought out a bottle of champagne and a sleeve of plastic cups.
“Yippee!” Pokey said, grabbing the bottle and giving it an exaggerated smooch. “Hello, my old friend. Welcome back to my world.”
Mason took the bottle and popped the cork, which brought a small “mew” from the startled Olivia, who looked around, took in the scene, and then promptly dropped back to sleep. He handed cups all around, and even poured a tiny bit for the children.
“To Pokey and Olivia,” Pete said. “My two favorite girls in the whole wide world.” He went through the motions of touching cups with the grown-ups and the children, and then settled on the bed next to his wife, dropping another kiss on the top of her head.
“Here, here,” Mason said.
Pokey raised her own glass and took a huge gulp of champagne. “Come on, everybody,” she urged. “Don’t make me drink alone. I’ve been waiting nine months for a taste of something stronger than iced tea.”
Denning, the oldest, took a wary sip. “Gross!” he said. “Quixie’s lots better than this.” He took his cup and dumped it into the sink, and Sophie and Petey loyally followed suit.
“Annajane?” Pokey said, pointing at her friend’s empty glass.
“None for me, thanks,” Annajane said, with a barely suppressed grin, looking over at her best friend and sister-in-law. “But if you had some skim milk—and some prenatal vitamins, I could go for that.”