Dee glided into the parlor, then turned for dramatic effect, fabric fluttering. “Well?”
“Well, what?” Angora asked.
“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“Um… I’m sorry for being jilted at the altar?”
“Don’t be smart, young lady. You left me and your father in an extremely awkward situation, running off like that with—” She glared at Roxann. “With her. Really. And Roxann, what a waste of your good education you’ve turned out to be.”
Roxann said nothing, only blinked lazily and offered up a small smile.
The disappointment in Dee’s eyes when she looked at Roxann—it was so intense, like the disappointment of a mother looking at a disobedient but favorite child. Angora had always suspected that deep down Dee had wished she’d given birth to Roxann, the smart one, and, in truth, the one with more natural beauty. The fact that Roxann chose not to enhance her looks had been a curious obsession of Dee’s.
“I am sorry for leaving so abruptly, Mother,” Angora murmured. “I just wanted to get out of there.”
Dee’s eyes cut back to her. “And let someone else clean up your mess.”
“Trenton was the one who changed his mind.”
“The boy had cold feet, that’s all. If your cousin hadn’t interfered, and if you’d behaved as if you had good sense, all of this could have been settled yesterday, and you’d be on your honeymoon instead of standing here dressed like a refugee and smelling like throw-up.”
“It wasn’t her fault,” Roxann said. “Lay off.”
They both turned. She was leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed.
“You may leave,” Dee said pointedly. “And remove that rattletrap from my driveway.”
Roxann pushed away from the door. “Nice to see you again, Angora. Good luck in Chicago.”
Angora watched her leave, feeling as if her last link to freedom were slipping away. She couldn’t even eke out a goodbye. When the front door closed, hot tears sprang to her eyes. She turned back to Dee. “Mother, I really am sorry. I know you and Daddy spent a lot of money on the wedding—”
“It’s not the money,” Dee said, waving impatiently. “I took out an insurance policy.”
Angora blinked. “What?”
“I took out an insurance policy on the wedding expenditures in case something like this happened.”
“In case I was jilted?” Angora asked, incredulous.
Dee sighed. “Well, I was right, wasn’t I?”
Angora’s body went completely cold, but somehow her feet moved, carrying her back into the foyer where she’d seen her purse sitting on the table among boxes of embossed napkins and little bags of unused birdseed. She shoved her life list inside the Prada bag—thank goodness black crocodile went with everything, including flannel—then slung it over her shoulder.
“Where are you going, young lady?”
“Away from here.” She jogged to the front door, yanked it open, and ran outside, taking the stairs as fast as she could in her heels. “Roxann! Roxann, wait!”
The van was pulling away from the sidewalk, but to her immense relief, the brake lights came on.
She ran up to the passenger side door and tugged until it opened.
“What’s wrong?” Roxann asked.
“I can’t stay here. Take me with you.”
“Angora—”
“Please, Roxann?” She blinked up a few desperate tears. “Please.”
Chapter 10
Roxann studied Angora’s tearful face. She could imagine the insensitive things Dee had said—the woman was a shrew. With the possibility of Frank Cape on her tail, though, the last thing she needed was to have Angora slowing her down, and she didn’t want to involve her cousin in her dilemma.
“Oh, God, here comes Mother. Please, Roxann?”
She sighed. On the other hand, Angora was the only relative she had who actually wanted to spend time with her, and even her cousin’s too-chatty company would be a respite from the loneliness that had seized her lately. Plus if Frank Cape found her, he might be less likely to confront her with a witness along. In the side mirror, she could see Dee bearing down the sidewalk, muumuu flying.
“Okay, get in.”
Angora squealed, sprang into the seat, and slammed the door. “Go.”
Roxann gunned the engine, which backfired and left a cloud of blue smoke that obscured her aunt. She’d definitely sealed her fate as far as Dee’s will was concerned.
Angora laughed like a child. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I couldn’t stay in that house one more second.” She sighed. “I’ve dug my grave with Mother this time.”
If Angora had made it to the Miss America pageant, her talent could have been passive-aggressivism, which she had down to an art. Play Miss Goody Two-shoes until she was ready to burst, then misbehave, wallow in remorse, tearfully confess, beg forgiveness, and start all over again. Roxann slowed. “Do you want me to take you back?”
“No.”
Impressed, Roxann accelerated. “Give Dee time, she’ll come around.”
Angora snorted. “Mother will never change. When I die, she’ll stand over my casket and bemoan my laugh lines.”
Yesterday she herself had turned up a radio commercial for a new antiwrinkle cream, so she couldn’t cast stones. “She means well.” Actually, Dee was just plain mean, but there was no use fanning the flame.
Angora shifted in her seat, filling in the silence by arranging bulky flannel around the seat belt. “It’s funny—I don’t remember much about your mother,” she murmured. “Except that she smelled like lemon furniture polish.”
Roxann blinked—they’d never discussed her own mother, not even when they roomed together. “She… Mom was always cleaning. Back then, Dad liked an orderly house.” Because someone else was doing the cleaning. And the cooking. And the fetching.
“Do you miss her?”
Her eyes burned unexpectedly. “Of course.”
“I don’t think I’d miss Dee at all—how sad is that?”
“Sad,” she agreed. “But I don’t think you mean it.”
Angora made a noncommittal noise in her throat. “Roxann, why did your folks divorce?”
She concentrated hard on the road. “Incompatibility. Dad was an ogre. Controlling. Jealous. Mother tired of it, I suppose.”
“Your dad seems like such a sweetheart.”
“I have some good memories of us all together,” she conceded. “But Dad was no sweetheart. And when Mom… when they split up, he turned bitter.”
“Was there another person involved?”
Every fiber in her body rallied to her mother’s defense. “Mother had a male friend, but she was not having an affair.”
“Although your dad thought so?”
She pursed her mouth and nodded slowly. “So he kept me from her—not because he wanted to raise me, but to punish her.”
“Your dad is crazy for you. At Christmas, every other sentence out of his mouth is ‘Roxann is so intelligent.’ “
She smirked. “Just to aggravate Dee.” Besides, only she knew that he’d been talking in code—how many times had her father said he’d rather have a child who was “smart” than “intelligent”? She was certain he’d framed her diploma as a mocking reminder of how she’d wasted her education.
“Where are we going?” Angora asked, as if she suddenly cared.
“To South Bend.”
Her eyes lit up. “For Homecoming?”
“Well… I guess the timing is right. I’m actually going to stay with Nell Oney for a few days—do you remember Dr. Oney?”
Angora frowned. “Yeah. Didn’t she teach philosophy?”
Roxann nodded. “And she got me involved in the Rescue program.” Roxann didn’t need a shrink to tell her Nell had been the mother figure she’d craved—wise, calm, attentive. She’d wanted to stay in touch with the woman who had taken a special interest in her, but the university and the people connected to it represented too many
bittersweet memories.
“Do you two have business to take care of?” Angora asked.
“Sort of.”
“Do you think she’ll mind if I’m along?”
“No, but you can’t discuss any of the things I’ve told you about the program with anyone.”
“You of all people know I can keep a secret.”
Roxann glanced over, her stomach knotted. “Don’t, Angora.”
For the split second, a spark of defiance shone in Angora’s wide blue eyes, and Roxann had the horrible feeling that Angora would lash out at her parents and the world by divulging their secret. There was nothing more dangerous than a person who felt as if they had nothing left to lose. She swallowed.
“Roxann, have you ever wanted to kill someone?”
At the eerily serious note in her cousin’s voice, warning bells chimed in her head. “Everyone has moments of extreme anger,” she said carefully.
“No,” Angora said, her gaze locked on Roxann’s, her pupils dilated. “I mean really kill someone.” In her lap, her hands convulsed. “I think I could kill Trenton and not feel a bit guilty.”
A chill tickled the back of Roxann’s neck as she recalled moments in college when she’d questioned Angora’s stability. “Passion is a powerful emotion. Sometimes it can feel like hate instead of love.”
But Angora seemed to be somewhere else. “All I know is that I put my life on hold too many times because of promises men made to me.” Her voice had taken on a bitter tone. “What makes the beasts think they can use a woman and then toss her aside when she becomes inconvenient?”
Roxann used her most soothing tone. “You’re hurting right now, but you’ll feel better by the time we get to South Bend.”
Angora’s eyes welled up, and her mouth tightened. “I swear on my crown, the next man who jerks me around is going to wish he hadn’t.”
Her cousin wouldn’t be the first repressed woman to snap and retaliate, ergo all those news interviews with wide-eyed neighbors in their robes saying, “She seemed like such a nice woman.”
Then as quickly as it came, the glimmer in her cousin’s eyes vanished, replaced by a contrite expression. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up yesterday, Roxann. Or if you hadn’t let me come with you on this trip. Seems like you’re always saving me.”
Unexpectedly moved, Roxann couldn’t respond.
“I know, I know—it seems like I always need saving.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You were thinking it.” Angora inhaled, then exhaled musically. “But that’s okay, because from now on, I’m going to take charge of my life.”
Roxann bit her tongue—the only thing Angora had ever taken charge of was Visa, Mastercard, and American Express.
Angora lifted her chin. “I don’t need Trenton—I can get a man any time I want one.”
With her golden good looks, her cousin never had a problem attracting men, but inevitably, her insecurities manifested in some way to have them running in the opposite direction: too prim, too needy, too snobby, too virginal. “Getting” a man was not Angora’s problem, nor any other woman’s for that matter. Keeping him—now there was the rub.
“In fact,” Angora continued. “I can find someone better looking, someone who’s great in bed.”
“And you would know?” Roxann asked gently.
“Yes.” Angora twirled her hair around her index finger—a dead giveaway that she was lying. Then she sighed. “No.”
“Don’t sound so forlorn.”
“Roxann, how many thirty-two-year-old virgins do you know?”
Roxann swerved, then corrected. “You’re still a virgin?”
“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, no… I’m surprised, that’s all, since you’re so pretty and since you’ve been engaged.”
“And since I’m so old?”
“We’re the same age.”
“You didn’t answer my question. How many thirty-two-year-old virgins do you know?”
“Well… I don’t have many close female friends, but I’m sure… ” She trailed off helplessly. “Okay, I don’t know any thirty-two-year-old virgins.”
She pulled a small pink packet from her purse. “A wedding-night gift from Mother—condoms.”
“Not ready to be a grandmother just yet, is she?”
“No.” She pulled one out and read the label. “These things are made of lambskin.”
“Sheep intestines.”
“Huh?”
“They’re made of sheep intestines. But ‘lambskin’ is more marketable.”
“Oh, that’s gross.”
She shrugged. “They’re the best, as far as sensation is concerned. My hat’s off to Dee.”
“For knowing?”
“For letting you know that she knows.”
“Ah. Well, the only thing that Mother harped on more than my laugh lines and my waistline is sex—she said she’d cut me out of her will if she found out I didn’t wait until my wedding night.” She stuffed the condom grab bag back into her purse.
“How would she know?”
“My gynecologist.”
“What?”
“I’ve been going to the same gynecologist since I was fifteen, and she told me he would tell her if ever… you know.”
Roxann ground her teeth. “Angora, that’s not only immoral, it’s illegal. Your physician can’t reveal your… status to anyone, not even to Dee. Surely you know that.”
“Mother’s laws supersede all others.”
How could she rationalize with a woman whose world had been skewed by a selfish, overbearing mother? “Angora, there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin at your age, but it should be because of your own convictions, not your mother’s.”
Angora angled her chin. “You’re so right. I think it’s high time I change gynecologists. And broaden my sexual horizons.”
“You’re entitled,” Roxann agreed, simply because Angora couldn’t carry off the label of “promiscuous” if she wore it on a sash.
“Maybe I’ll sleep with someone scandalous,” she murmured. “Maybe… a bad boy. Or an older man.” Angora produced a foxy smile. “Maybe I’ll sleep with Dr. Seger. Cross another item off my life list.”
Roxann’s stomach jumped, but she attributed it to last night’s unfortunate choice of drink. “That’s an interesting possibility.”
“Are you going to bid on him at the bachelor auction?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.” Liar, liar.
“Let’s go and buy ourselves a man.”
“On my budget, the man would have to be made out of rubber.”
But Angora was warming to her plan. “How long will it take for us to get to campus?”
“Driving straight through, I figure around fifteen hours.”
She bounced up and down in the seat, dislodging her crown. “Let’s take our time and cross off a few items on our life lists along the way!”
Roxann tried to conjure up some enthusiasm, but failed. “Angora, we don’t have to abide by some silly list we made when we were little more than children.” Besides, it was too disconcerting to see how many of the things that had once been important to her had been left undone.
“Oh, come on—it’ll be fun,” Angora coaxed. “Just like old times.”
Except as she recalled, the “old times” weren’t that fun for either of them. She squinted. “What did you have in mind?”
Angora lifted the collar of the faded flannel shirt. “The first order of the day is to go shopping, of course.”
Of course.
Her cousin waved vaguely toward the map lying on the seat between them. “So find a route that will take us by a mall, preferably one with a Saks.”
She groaned.
“Hey, you could use a few new duds yourself, kiddo. You look exactly the same as you did in college.”
Roxann craned to critically study her reflection in the rearview mirror. “I
don’t look exactly the same.” Those little creases around her eyes, for instance. And five gray hairs that congregated in her side part.
“Are you kidding? You’re frozen in time.” Angora tsk-tsked at Roxann’s faded jeans. “And that’s not always a good thing.”
Shopping—a grueling experience. Despite her stint in the dress shop in high school, she didn’t have Angora’s eye for color or style. “We should be in Jackson by noon, maybe we can find a Wal-Mart.”
“This is serious.” Angora was gaining momentum. “You could have your eyebrows waxed.”
“I prefer having them singed by a roaring gas flame.”
“And have you ever thought about letting your hair grow out?”
She rolled her eyes up to stare at the fringe of bangs tickling her brow. “No. In fact, it’s time for a trim.”
“Long straight hair is back in. You’d be absolutely exotic.” She snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it—hair extensions!”
“You always were determined to make me over.”
“And you always were determined to shop at the campus Goodwill.”
It was what she could afford. Plus the vintage, boyish clothes boosted her image of rebellious coed. Indeed, she’d stuck out when most young women were going over the top with big, feminine hair and look-at-me clothing. Carl had admired her individuality, but maybe she was getting too old for jeans and Tshirts. Besides, since almost everyone was going out of the way to dress down these days, she was in danger of falling into a trend—argh.
Angora yawned and laid her head back. “So, cuz, do you have a boyfriend?”
Roxann watched the road signs in the dark and headed toward the interstate. “No. I don’t date much.” Even she and Richard hadn’t really dated when she lived in Birmingham. If she was lonely, she’d drop by the bar or coffeehouse where he happened to be playing, and he’d go home with her. If he was lonely, he’d show up on her doorstep with Thai food.
“What are the men like in Biloxi?”
Capistrano’s face came to her. “Like the weather—thick and predictable.” He probably hated Thai food.
“Don’t you get lonely?”
“I stay pretty busy.” A definite meat-and-potatoes man.
“Have you ever come close to getting married?”
Got Your Number ((a humorous romantic mystery)) Page 9
