It's Only Logical

Chapter Fifteen: Drama, Friendships Old and New, and Acceptance

Life went on, Logan reminded himself, with its duties and obligations, its irritations and pleasures. As he readied himself for yet another Garden Club monthly meeting, he silently wondered which of those categories this particular event fell into.

It was a given that anyone who was even remotely connected to gardening or landscaping should be a part of the Garden Club. As the owner of the largest gardening center in the community, he felt a strong obligation to support the group and remain an active member. And there were some upsides to it. He enjoyed talking with others who shared his love of botany, and he felt the club had worked hard to implement fund-raisers for local beautification projects. But then again, there were just as many who only wanted to dress up and gossip.

Logan walked into the meeting room at the local country club, his ears assaulted by a cacophony of female voices. There were only a handful of male members, himself being the most prominent, and rare were the times they would subject themselves to the monthly meetings. There were square enamel pots with various evergreens sprinkled festively across the different tables. There was a podium at the front for the various committee chairs who would give their reports or pitches for volunteers. Logan silently thanked every deity known to mankind that he wasn't chairing anything currently.

When he stepped further into the room, glances slid his way, and the hum of voices trailed off. And died. Almost immediately, they started up again, just a little too bright, a little too loud. He let the cold mask of indifference slide over his face, shielding him, and walked straight to a table.

"Aren't these centerpieces lovely?" He looked directly at Shelby Elliott as if he couldn't hear the whispers underneath the chatter. "So fresh and festive. How are you, Shelby?"

"Oh, fine, Logan. Just fine. How are you?"

"Couldn't be better." Logan thought for a moment, what was her husband's name? Ah yes. "How's Wayne doing?"

Her cheeks flushed a bright red, and something nasty flashed in her eyes. "Oh, you know Wayne."

"I certainly do. You give him my best, won't you?" Logan maintained the false smile as he turned away, going to the next table.

It was pride that had him walking the gauntlet, mingling with the crowd and speaking with people from every table before he'd allow himself to approach the pots of coffee and tea. He opted for a glass of iced tea to soothe his throat, which felt scalded raw from all the false cheeriness he'd used.

Cecile "CiCi" Deville sidled up in a trim, sky blue pantsuit smelling like Chanel No. 5 and trouble. "Logan, dear, don't you just look fabulous! I'm so pleased you could make it. I'd heard somewhere that you might not be coming today."

"I don't know where you would have heard something like that, CiCi." Logan arched a brow, and the older woman looked pained for a moment.

"Now, Logan, I know that things are a little...awkward....at the moment, what with Dafne dating Jason and all, but please know I have very much appreciated your restraint and civility. She's an adult, and as much as I would like to spare her from this, there are some things she needs to learn on her own."

"Like how to shut her ever flapping gob-talker, for one." Stella Vartebedian's voice chimed in, and CiCi looked like a cat about to arch its back and hiss. Logan turned, both brows lifted in surprise.

"Excuse me?!" Cecile's voice was soft, but with a very dangerous undertone.

"You heard me, Cecile. Your daughter's been flapping her foolish tongue as fast as she can to anybody who will listen. And there are a lot of eager ears in this club. You might want to look to that." Stella's voice was cool, but her eyes were flashing fire. The two women glared daggers at one another, and Logan looked across the room to see Dafne chattering away to two of the biggest gossip hounds in the Garden Club. Of course.