A/N: First, thank you all for your patience. I had a serious case of "where is this thing going?!" combined with some real-life stuff…so sorry for the long delay. Second, even though our story is AU after S1ep4, I may be including a few events from the episodes that follow it.
Thanks to all who've been reviewing, and I hope this was worth the wait!
Chapter Seven
"Thanks!" Zoe says to Maybelline, returning her empty latte glass to the Butter Stick's front counter. One of the biggest surprises about life in Bluebell is that espresso with actual milk is a heck of a lot better than that soy garbage she drank in New York. (Though she still doesn't want her Chilean sea bass battered and fried—that is a desecration.)
She walks out of the bakery and runs, bodily, into George Tucker. George Tucker, wearing a grey suit, looking perfectly normal, not a hair out of place. Not at all, in other words, like he got into a behind-the-bar scuffle with Wade last night.
This is weird. Why isn't he sporting a shiner, mirror-image of Wade's?
He steps back, exclaiming (nervously, she thinks), "Zoe! Sorry! You OK?"
She looks at the steadying hand he's placed on her arm and notes a slight bruising around the knuckles. And she sees red.
"Hey!" she yells, poking him in the chest; a few passers-by turn to stare. Moderating her voice, she hisses, "I have a bone to pick with you. C'mere." She pulls his arm until he follows her down the street and around the corner, away from the exposure of the town square.
"Zoe…" George starts.
"What the hell were you thinking, punching Wade last night?"
"I know…I owe Wade an apology. And—and you too. I'm sorry. Whatever's going on between you two—" he pauses, as if to let Zoe fill in the blanks, but she remains silent—"It's none of my business."
Zoe nods. "You're damn right." She continues to study him. "I'm just trying to figure out why he didn't punch you back. I mean, he is pretty much the poster boy for 'You shoulda seen the other guy.'"
George seems embarrassed. "Probably because I was a little…the worse for wear. I had been drinkin' with a college buddy at the Rammer Jammer—apparently, his wife reads the Blawker religiously. Anyway, he pointed Wade out, and made some comment about you…so when I saw Wade go out the back—I don't know what came over me," he says, looking at her appealingly. He opens his mouth to say something else, then stops.
"What is it, George?" Zoe asks impatiently, although on the inside, she finds herself softening slightly. His face is open, pleading…he's so clearly regretful…
"It's just—it's just that I think of you as a—" don't say sister, she thinks, before she can stop herself—"friend, and I don't want you to get hurt."
Of course he doesn't. Because he's George Tucker, and he always has everyone's best interests at heart. Or…is it maybe more than that? (Engaged. HE'S ENGAGED.)
Zoe shakes off the swoony look she can feel creeping across her features. "I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of my own—" she nearly says affairs, but that seems too charged—"myself," she amends awkwardly.
"I know you can. But if you're going to get involved with Wade, there's something you should—" he breaks off, his eyes wide.
Zoe doesn't need to turn around to know who's coming. Sure enough, she hears Lemon Breeland call from down the block, "George! Sweetie!"
"I need to go," she says, moving away from him, but he puts a hand on her arm again. "Hey, do you mind not mentioning the whole punching thing? I'm on my way to the plantation right now, and I feel like it should be, y'know, just between Wade and me."
Zoe rolls her eyes. "Your secret's safe with me."
Lemon comes up to them and gives George a smacking kiss on the cheek. Hanging on his arm, she turns to Zoe. "Well, Dr. Hart, how lovely to see you. Thank you for entertainin' my fiancé. We don't want to keep you, though. Maybe there'll be a patient willing to see you instead of my daddy—miracles do happen!" Her saccharine smile removes absolutely none of the sting from her words.
"Thanks," replies Zoe, equally insincere. "But, actually, I'm booked solid. I'd better be off!" She can't resist giving George what could definitely be considered a flirty smile as she walks back in the direction of the square.
"Tansy Truitt, here for a…headache?" Addy hands Zoe a clipboard as she shows a very chirpy blonde into the exam room.
"OK, Miss Truitt—" Zoe starts.
"It's Ms.," says the blonde.
"I'm sorry?"
"It's Ms. Truitt. I'm married, but I kept my maiden name. I'm a modern woman, y'know!" she declares, as though daring Zoe to disagree.
"I'm sure you are, Ms. Truitt. Now, you're here because of a headache?"
Ms. Truitt nods, and says brightly, "I have a hangnail, too." She sticks out her left hand—no wedding ring, Zoe notices—and, indeed, a sliver of thumbnail is pulling away from the nail bed.
Zoe inspects the nail. "Well, it doesn't look infected. I'd prescribe a good set of clippers." She looks back at her clipboard. "Now, about this headache—"
"Did I hear you're from New York?" asks the blonde. Anyone displaying fewer symptoms of pain would be hard to find, Zoe thinks.
"Yep."
"Wow! I've always wanted to go to New York City. What're you doin' in Bluebell?"
Zoe starts to launch into the 30-second "elevator ride" version of her story, then recollects herself—she's here to examine the patient. "Long story. Can you tell me when the symptoms started?"
Ms. Truitt seems not to have heard her. "So, how do you like it?"
Zoe is about to snap in frustration when she remembers the reason she is here: to work on her bedside manner. She can recall a similar grilling from other townsfolk, and it always pays to compliment Bluebell; plus, she can't afford to offend anyone. "It's been quite an education, so far—never a dull moment!" This, at least, is true. "And the people are extremely…inquisitive." Inquisitive, nosy…potato, potahto.
"Well, folks do like to be neighborly," the blonde smiles. "You datin' anybody?"
Zoe wonders briefly what the over/under is on Ms. Truitt being a Blawker reader. "Um…I'm kind of concentrating on my career?"
Ms. Truitt giggles at Zoe's obvious discomfiture. "Sorry—I guess I seem downright pryin'. But we do like to get to know our doctors around here!" She hops down from the exam table. "Well, wouldja look at that! Headache gone—you really are a great doctor!" She flounces out of Zoe's office, waves to the other three patients in the waiting area, and heads on out of the practice. As she exits, Lemon enters; the two women nod to each other.
"Why Dr. Hart! That's the second time today I've seen you with your mouth open. Watch you don't catch any flies, now." Following Zoe's glance, she comments, "I see you've met our Tansy."
"You know her? I've never seen her before."
"Know her? Why, of course. She lives a ways out of town now, but she went to high school with George and me. She's a bit simple, but she's sweet—too good for Wade, if you ask me," Lemon finishes archly.
"Tansy dated Wade?" She does seem like his type.
Lemon's tinkling laugh is like glass breaking. "Dated Wade?" She looks at Zoe in mock concern. "Oh—I thought surely he would've told you before you—"
She definitely does not want Lemon to finish that sentence. "Told me what?"
"Oh, my," Lemon puts a hand to her lips. "I do so hate to sow discord, even between—well, I just don't know how to say this, but…they got married. Back in '07, I believe? A whirlwind ceremony on a shrimp boat, if I'm not mistaken."
Zoe suddenly feels a little nauseous, the same way she did when she discussed Wade's "appetite" with Addy. "Wade. Was. Married?"
Putting a hand on Zoe's shoulder, Lemon tilts her head. "Honey, he still is, from what I hear." Having dropped her bomb, she turns to Brick, who has just come out of his office. "Oh, Daddy! Just the man I wanted to see!"
Zoe's brain tries to fit this seemingly impossible set of facts into a coherent whole, while her stomach continues to churn. Addy takes pity on her, pushing Zoe back toward her office and away from the fascinated folks in the waiting room. "I'll tell you all about it," Addy whispers.
But just as they are about to step into Zoe's office, the practice door opens again and Wade's head, barely visible behind a massive bouquet, pokes through. "Special delivery for Dr. Hart!" he calls, and spotting her, goes down on one knee to present the bouquet with a flourish.
Hand on heart, Wade continues, "Zoe, I hope you can forgive me for lettin' the heat wave run away with us. Please accept these flowers as a token of my—" Here, he lets his gaze travel up her legs, all the way up to her eyes, which he does not seem to grasp are flashing angrily—"sincere regard. Can I make it up to you with some dinner?"
Zoe's left hand raises, then falls. "You know what? You're not even worth smacking. I wouldn't eat with you if you had the last plate of sushi-grade ahi on earth. Go ask your wife if she wants to have dinner."
There is a theatrical gasp, and Zoe belatedly realizes that Dash has come up behind Wade, recorder at the ready. "This TOWN!" she yells, turns on her heel, and strides into her office, slamming the door behind her.
TO BE CONTINUED
Hoping I can post more quickly now that I've broken through the writer's block. Thanks for hanging in there!
