Jim smiled. “I guess I could take mine off.”
A woman’s voice, soft and Southern, sounded from the foyer. “Cal, where are you?”
He sighed. “In the kitchen, Mom.”
“I was passing by, and I saw the gate open.” Like Cal’s father, the woman who appeared in the doorway looked too young to have a thirty-six-year-old son, and she also seemed much too sophisticated to be the daughter of Annie Glide. Pretty, trim, and stylish, she wore her light brown hair in a short, trendy cut that curved behind her ears and emphasized a pair of clear blue eyes. Discreet frosting camouflaged whatever strands of gray had emerged. Her tall figure set off slim black trousers topped by a loosely cut fleece jacket in grape-colored wool with an abstract silver pin on the lapel. In comparison, Jane felt like a street urchin with her dirty face and leaf-flecked hair falling willy-nilly.
“You must be Jane.” She walked forward, one hand extended in welcome. “I’m Lynn Bonner.” Her greeting was warm, but as Jane took her hand, she received the impression of a deep reserve. “I hope you?
?re feeling better. Cal said you were under the weather.”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“She’s thirty-four,” Jim announced from his spot next to the counter.
Lynn looked startled, and then she smiled. “I’m delighted.”
Jane found herself warming to Lynn Bonner. Jim sat down on one of the counter stools and stretched out his legs. “Cal said she’s a hillbilly groupie. She sure is gonna love you, Amber.”
Jane saw Cal shoot his father a puzzled look. She noted a faint trace of insolence in Jim Bonner’s tone that hadn’t been there before, but his wife showed no reaction. “I’m sure Cal told you we just got back from a combined vacation and medical conference. I was so sorry you weren’t feeling well enough to join us for dinner last night. We’ll make it up on Saturday. Jim, if it doesn’t rain, you can grill.”
Jim crossed his ankles. “Shoot, Amber, since Jane here likes hillbilly ways so much, why don’t you forget grilling and make her some of those Glide family specials. We could have beans and fatback, or how ’bout some of that souse like your mama used to fix. You ever eat souse, Jane?”
“No, I don’t believe I have.”
“I can’t imagine Jane wanting that,” Lynn said coolly. “Nobody eats souse anymore.”
“Maybe you could bring it back in fashion, Amber. You could tell all your ritzy friends about it next time you go to one of those big charity affairs in Asheville.”
Cal had been staring at his parents as if he’d never seen them before. “When did you start calling Mom Amber?”
“It’s her name,” Jim replied.
“Annie uses it, but I’ve never heard you do it.”
“Who says people have to keep doing things the same way?”
Cal glanced toward his mother, but she made no comment. Clearly uncomfortable, he turned away and once again opened the refrigerator door. “Are you sure nobody wants a sandwich? How about you, Mom?”
“No, thanks.”
“Souse is part of the Glide family heritage,” Jim said, unwilling to give up that particular avenue of conversation. “You haven’t forgotten about that, have you, Amber?” He stabbed his wife with eyes so remote that Jane experienced a surge of sympathy for Cal’s mother. She knew exactly how it felt to be on the receiving end of a gaze like that. Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Jane. “Souse is like sausage, Jane, but it’s made from a hog’s head, minus the eyeballs.”
Lynn smiled a bit stiffly. “It’s disgusting. I don’t know why my mother ever made it. I just talked to her on the cell phone; that’s how I knew you were feeling better. She seems to have taken to you, Jane.”
“I like her.” Jane was as anxious to change the subject as her new mother-in-law. Not only were the undercurrents of tension between Cal’s parents disconcerting, but her stomach hadn’t been entirely predictable lately, and she didn’t want to take any chances with a discussion of eyeballs and a hog’s head.
“Cal told us you’re a physicist,” Lynn said. “I’m so impressed.”
Jim rose from the stool. “My wife didn’t graduate from high school, so she sometimes gets intimidated when she meets people with advanced degrees.”
Lynn didn’t seem at all intimidated, and Jane found herself beginning to dislike Jim Bonner for his not-so-subtle put-downs. His wife might be willing to ignore his behavior, but she wasn’t. “There certainly isn’t any reason to be intimidated,” she said evenly. “Some of the most foolish people I know have advanced degrees. But why am I telling you this, Dr. Bonner? I’m sure you’ve observed the same thing firsthand.”
To her surprise, he smiled. Then he slipped his hand inside the back of his wife’s coat collar and rubbed her neck with the familiarity of someone who’d been doing exactly that for nearly four decades. The intimacy of the gesture made Jane realize she’d stepped into water far too deep for her, and she wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Whatever marital disharmony was going on between them had undoubtedly been going on for years, and it was none of her business. She had enough of her own marital disharmony to worry about.
Jim stepped away from his wife. “I’ve got to get going, or I’ll be late for my rounds.” He turned to Jane and gave her arm a friendly squeeze, then smiled at his son. “It was nice meeting you, Jane. See you tomorrow, Cal.” His affection for Cal was obvious, but as Jim left the kitchen, she noticed that he didn’t so much as glance at his wife.
Cal set a package of sandwich meat and cheese on the counter. As they heard the sound of the front door closing, he gazed at his mother.