The Man She Married

The Crabtree ordeal and meeting Trip Fitzgerald had been followed by an “I’ve worn this at least a dozen times but now that it has a stain on the front I want to return it” and an “oh my, you mean you can’t dry it on hot” complaint. Retail wasn’t for sissies.

“Hey.” Liza breezed in and gave her twin a hug. Lately she did everything with a spring in her step, and why not? She was a newlywed and madly in love. Not that Maizie was jealous or anything.

“Have you ordered?” she asked as she took a seat on the picnic table bench.

“Nope. I was waiting for you. I’ve been studying the menu and I think I’ll go for the rib plate. See?” Maizie made a point of displaying her casual attire. “I changed into a T-shirt and jeans.”

“Good girl. Let’s see, what do I want?” Liza picked up the menu. “I think I’ll try the rib plate, too. I—”

Before she could continue her thought, the waitress appeared armed with two huge containers of iced tea. “I was bettin’ you gals would like a cold drink.” She set the glasses down and pulled out her order pad. “The ribs are looking mighty good, and the peach cobbler—whew.” She jokingly swiped her forehead. “I can put on five pounds just smellin’ that stuff. It’s downright sinful.”

“Both of us want the rib platter. We’ll discuss dessert later.” Liza put the menu back behind the Tabasco sauce.

“Excellent choice. If you need anything else, give me a holler.”

As soon as the waitress strolled off, Liza got down to why she’d wanted to do lunch.

“I’ve been putting a lot of thought into this, and I’m not convinced a shopping trip is what you need. I suspect there’s something more serious going here. You’re usually Little Miss Sunshine, and darn it, I want you to be happy again.”

Maizie fiddled with the salt shaker. Should she or shouldn’t she involve her twin? Not only was Liza a newlywed and desperately in love, she was also managing a huge property development project. She didn’t have time to listen to Maizie moan about her marital status.

As a matter of fact, both Liza and Kenni were acting like love-struck loons. It was enough to make a person gag. Deep down, Maizie had to admit she was jealous. She and Clay used to share that kind of passion, and by gosh, she wanted it again.

“I’ve decided to take up tennis,” she blurted.

“Tennis?” The look of confusion on Liza’s face was priceless. “You? Are you serious? The most strenuous thing you do is paint your nails.”

“I’ll have you know I played tennis in high school.” Sure, she wasn’t all that athletic, but Liza’s comment ruffled her tail feathers.

“Oh, I forgot. You were a regular Martina Navratilova.” Liza laughed at her own joke. “But what does that have to do with you being depressed?”

It was show time. Could she look her best friend, her twin in the face and lie? Or should she confide in her?

Confiding won, hands down. “Actually—” Maizie chewed on her bottom lip and screwed up her face.

Liza waited a few moments before speaking. “Actually what?”

“Actually, I have an ulterior motive.”

“Duh.” Liza crossed her arms. “Sweating isn’t exactly your thing, and believe it or not, Sweet Cakes, when you exercise you glow, big time.”

Every Southern girl knew that horses sweated, men perspired and women glowed. Maizie didn’t bother to suppress her grimace. “I have some waterproof makeup. It stops up your pores so I don’t normally wear it, but in this case I’ll give it a shot.”

“Look.” Liza propped her chin on her hand. “What is this really all about?”

“I want to make Clay jealous.”

“What?”

Maizie couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable. “Clay’s been ignoring me lately and I want him to realize that even though I’m middle-aged and plump, some men find me attractive.”

Liza massaged her forehead. “Let me get this straight. Please God, tell me I’m understanding this. You’re planning to flirt with some dude on the tennis court to make Clay jealous?”

“Sort of.”

Liza smacked her hand on the wooden table. “That’s one of the dumbest schemes I’ve ever heard. Let me make one thing perfectly clear. You are a gorgeous woman. And plump, please! Women all over the country pay good money to have what God’s given you.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Maizie leaned forward to let Liza in on a secret. “It’s perfectly innocent. All I’m going to do is flirt with the new tennis pro. I checked him out, he’s not married, or engaged or even dating anyone.” She’d researched his relationship status by calling a friend who was a member of the club and a tennis fiend. “I’m certainly not planning to do anything other than get Clay’s attention. How can anything go wrong?”

Chapter Six

Maizie had tried to sound confident when talking to Liza, but to be totally truthful she wasn’t that sure her plan would work. And no matter what Liza said, she had gained several pounds—most of it right on her caboose.

However, she’d learned early in her beauty-pageant career that self-confidence could mask a ton of deficiencies, and fortunately that included a sizable derriere. It also required a certain amount of assistance, and in this case that meant a sexy, new tennis outfit.

Maizie and Clay were having breakfast when she volleyed the first shot in her “make my hubby jealous” campaign. “I’m going into Atlanta this morning to do some shopping.”

“Okay,” he answered.

“Just okay?” Why was she being so snarky? She frequently went to Atlanta, so why should this trip be different?

Clay put down the paper and shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” Maizie said. “That was uncalled for.”

He stared at her a few seconds and gently laid his hand on her cheek. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

The tenderness of his touch gave Maizie pause.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No! Uh, I mean, that’s not necessary.” Having him along would screw up the purpose of her shopping trip.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Clay took her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. Darn that man. He knew how to push every one of her buttons. She just wished he’d do it more often.

MAIZIE PULLED INTO THE parking lot of a tennis and golf superstore. It was a gigantic warehouse filled with sports equipment and clothing. She was more familiar with tony boutiques than places like the Tennis and Golfarama. Maizie was out of her element and didn’t have a clue where to start.

“May I help you?” a clerk asked when she walked in. The young woman was tanned brunette wearing skintight warm-up gear. There wasn’t an ounce of cellulite on that buff body.

“I need some tennis…uh…stuff.”

“A racquet or clothes?”

“Both. Actually, I haven’t played in years so I need everything, right down to the socks and bloomers.”

Maizie’s admission elicited a laugh from the saleswoman.

“I’m Cindi,” she said, sticking her hand out for a shake.