Welcome to Serenity

Maddie appeared taken aback. “Do what?”

“Be on the stupid committee,” Jeanette grumbled. “Isn’t that what we’re talking about?”

Maddie did not appear nearly as pleased by her capitulation as Jeanette had expected.

“Forget the committee for the moment. Tell me why Christmas upsets you,” Maddie said. “I’ve just realized that you always take your vacation at Christmas, but you don’t go home to visit your family, you don’t go away, you just hole up in your apartment. I checked with Helen and Dana Sue, too, and none of us can recall you accepting a single invitation to a holiday celebration with any of us. There has to be a reason.”

“I’m antisocial,” Jeanette said.

“No, you are not,” Maddie said, dismissing the reply. “You’ve come to lots of things—Fourth of July barbecues, margarita nights, Thanksgiving dinner. No, this is all about Christmas. You have an aversion to that specific holiday and I want to know why.”

“It’s my business,” Jeanette replied stubbornly. “I know you want to help, but there’s not a problem. I just don’t like Christmas holidays.” She scowled at Maddie. “And don’t you dare tell me that everybody loves the holidays.”

“Well, they do. At least around here.”

“Then I’m an exception to the rule. Look, I said I’d serve on the committee. That should be enough.”

“What changed your mind?” Maddie asked.

“Boy, you really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Maddie merely lifted a brow.

“No, of course you don’t,” Jeanette muttered. “Part of it was to get you off my case and part of it has to do with Mary Vaughn. She begged me to do it because she has to do it.”

Maddie stared at her incredulously. “You’re doing this for Mary Vaughn? After the way she tried to steal Ronnie from Dana Sue?”

“He and Dana Sue were separated at the time,” Jeanette reminded Maddie, feeling the need to defend her client. “Besides, she never had a chance with Ronnie, and everyone except Mary Vaughn knew it. The point is, she’s a good customer and she asked me to do this.”

“I’m your boss and I asked, and you didn’t have any problem saying no to me,” Maddie groused, then shook her head. “You’re doing this for Mary Vaughn. Wait’ll I tell Dana Sue and Helen.”

“I’m mainly doing this to get you off my case,” Jeanette corrected her. “And that hasn’t worked nearly as well as I’d expected, so I’m going home before I change my mind.”

Maddie opened her mouth, but Jeanette held up her hand. “Leave well enough alone, okay?”

“I was just going to say, if you ever want to talk about anything, all of us are here for you, understood?”

To her regret, Jeanette’s eyes misted. “Understood,” she whispered, and then bolted before she could make a complete fool of herself by bursting into tears.

Tom couldn’t wait to get on the road back to Serenity on Saturday morning. The charity function had been everything he despised about Charleston’s social scene. He could only imagine what the budget had been for the formal dinner and dance that his mother had organized for years. If that money alone had been donated directly to the cause, it probably would have equaled the amount raised. Whenever he mentioned that, she looked at him as if he’d uttered a blasphemy.

“This is what’s expected,” she’d told him more than once. “When you hold a position in society, it is your duty to do good works.”

“I’m just saying it would be more cost-effective to write a check,” he’d argued.

“An event brings attention to the cause. And it supports local businesses. Where would the caterers, the florists, the printers and so on be if we stopped holding these fundraisers?”

“So this is all about supporting the Charleston economy?”

She’d frowned at him. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, you know it’s about more than that. I know you think what I do is frivolous and unnecessary, but one of these days I’ll reduce it all to dollars and cents for you and prove my point in a way you can understand.”

He’d grinned at her. “I’d appreciate that.”

“You’re incorrigible,” she’d declared.

“But you love me.”

“Most of the time,” she’d agreed. “Now, if you would just marry and provide us with an heir to the McDonald legacy, I could forgive all these silly arguments.”

“Mother, you have six lovely granddaughters to dote on. The next generation is off to a fine start.”

“None of them will carry on the McDonald name,” she’d reminded him. “Even if one of your sisters has a son, he won’t be a McDonald.”

“So I’m to marry and have a son, is that the plan?”

She’d given him a stern look, though there was a decided twinkle in her eye. “I’d appreciate it,” she’d said.

If his mother was gently persuasive with her marching orders, his father was downright dictatorial, Tom thought as he finished the eggs, ham, grits and redeye gravy the cook had prepared for him. It seemed he’d never had a conversation with Thomas Barlow McDonald that didn’t end with one of them walking out in a huff. He’d give anything to avoid that this morning, but trying to slip away without paying his respects to his father would just lead to a tearful phone call from his mother later in the day. If arguing with his father was tedious, then listening to his mother’s guilt-inducing lectures was worse.

It was too late to escape, anyway. His father strolled in, already dressed for his regular Saturday-morning golf outing at the private country club where McDonalds had been members ever since the eighteen-hole course had been carved out of the countryside.

“I thought you were taking off first thing this morning,” his father said as he filled his plate from the serving dishes on the antique sideboard.

Tom swallowed the desire to answer honestly and admit that he’d considered doing just that. “We didn’t have much chance to talk last night,” he said instead. “I thought we could catch up this morning. How’s your golf game?”

“Still better than yours, I imagine,” his father replied. “You playing at all, or do they even have a course in that place you’re living?”

Tom clung to his patience by a thread. “The town is Serenity, Dad, and yes, there is an excellent golf course nearby and another one being built just a few miles away. If you and Mother would take a drive over one day, you’d discover there’s a whole big world that isn’t Charleston.”

“So, you are playing,” his father said, sticking to his favorite topic with characteristic tenacity.

“Actually, I haven’t had the time,” Tom told him. Or the desire, for that matter. Golf wasn’t active enough to suit him, or maybe he just played it badly. At any rate, the prospect of coaching Little League was much more appealing.

“Are you determined to turn your back on everything I do?” his father inquired, finally hitting his stride on his favorite complaint about Tom.

Tom was way past the stage of wanting to rebel against everything his parents stood for. “I’m just making choices that work for me, Dad. I wish you could understand that.”

“What I understand is that you’re wasting opportunities. You could have put that law degree of yours to good use right here in Charleston. You’d be making the right connections at the club. In another year or two, you’d be in a perfect position to run for governor or even Congress. That’s your destiny, Tom, not counting the pennies in the treasury of some nothing little town.”

“Seems to me the folks in Washington could do with a few lessons in counting pennies,” Tom commented dryly, drawing a scowl from his father.

“You know what I mean,” Thomas McDonald scolded. “You’re way overqualified for this job. You have an undergraduate degree in business, a law degree and all the right connections to make something of yourself. You won’t do that in Serenity.”

Tom pushed aside his plate and sat back with a sigh. “I’m sorry that I’m not ambitious enough to suit you. I like knowing the people in my community. I like seeing the results of decisions I’ve made when I step outside my office. I like solving problems for individuals and for the town.”

“What the hell do you think politics is about?” his father bellowed. “It’s all that, but on a much grander scale.”

“Maybe so,” Tom conceded. “When it’s not about raising enough money to win an election or taking the most popular stance to win the next election or doing the expedient thing to get the backing of some organization. I’m not saying there aren’t decent, hardworking politicians who can do a lot of good, but I don’t have the patience to deal with all the rest of it. I’m sorry. Obviously you and I will never agree about this. I hope we’re not going to have this same discussion every time we see each other.”