True believer - Nicholas Sparks [61]
“Oh?” She tilted her head slightly.
As he spoke, he noticed the butterflies in his stomach. Weird.
“The mayor came by to tell me about the dinner tonight at the Lawson Plantation, and he’s not sure if I can find the place on my own, so he suggested that I bring someone who knows where it is. And, well, since you’re pretty much the only one I know in town, I was wondering if you’d be willing to accompany me.”
For a long moment, Lexie said nothing.
“Figures,” she finally said.
Her response caught Jeremy off-guard.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, it’s not you. It’s the mayor and the way he does things. He knows I try to avoid events like this whenever possible, unless it has to do with the library. He figured that I’d say no if he asked, so he finagled a way to get you to ask me instead. And here you are. And here I am.”
Jeremy blinked at the thought, trying to remember the exact exchange, but only coming up with bits and pieces. Who had suggested he go with Lexie? He or the mayor?
“Why do I suddenly feel like I’m in the middle of a soap opera?”
“Because you are. It’s called living in a small southern town.”
Jeremy paused, looking uncertain. “You really think the mayor had all this planned?”
“I know he had it planned. He might come across like he’s no smarter than a sack of grass, but he has a funny knack of getting people to do exactly what he wants and making them think it was their idea all along. Why on earth do you think you’re still staying at Greenleaf?”
Jeremy pushed his hands into his pockets, considering it. “Well, just so you know, you don’t have to come. I’m sure I can find the place on my own.”
She put her hands on her hips and looked at him. “Are you backing out on me?”
Jeremy froze, unsure how to respond. “Well, I just thought that since the mayor . . .”
“Do you want me to come with you or not?” she asked.
“I do, but if you’re not—”
“Then ask me again.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ask me to come with you tonight. For yourself this time, and don’t use the excuse about needing directions. Say something like, ‘I’d really like to bring you to the dinner tonight. Can I pick you up later?’”
He looked at her, trying to decide if she was serious. “You want me to say those words?”
“If you don’t, it’ll still be the mayor’s idea and I won’t go. But if you ask me, you have to mean it, so use the right tone.”
Jeremy fidgeted like a nervous schoolboy. “I’d really like to bring you to the dinner tonight. May I pick you up later?”
She smiled and placed her hand on his arm.
“Why, Mr. Marsh,” she drawled, “I’d be delighted.”
Minutes later, Jeremy was watching Lexie retrieve the diaries from a locked case in the rare-book room, his head still spinning. Women in New York simply didn’t talk to him the way Lexie did. He wasn’t sure if she’d been reasonable or unreasonable or somewhere in between. Ask me again and use the right tone. What kind of woman did that? And why on earth did he find it so . . . compelling?
He wasn’t sure, and all of a sudden, the story and the opportunity for television were nothing more than minor details. Instead, as he watched Lexie, all he could think about was how warm her hand felt when she’d laid it ever so gently on his arm.
Nine
Later that evening, as the fog thickened into a soupy mess, Rodney Hopper decided that the Lawson Plantation looked like it was about to host a Barry Manilow concert.
For the last twenty minutes, he’d been directing the traffic into parking spots and watching in disbelief at the procession excitedly making its way toward the door. To this point, he’d seen Drs. Benson and Tricket, Albert the dentist, all eight members of the town council, including Tully and Jed, the mayor and the staff from the Chamber of Commerce, the entire school board, all nine county commissioners, the volunteers from the Historical Society, three accountants, the entire crew from Herbs, the bartender from Lookilu, the barber, and even Toby, who emptied septic tanks for a living but looked remarkably spiffy nonetheless. Lawson Plantation wasn’t even this crowded during the Christmas