Strange Bedpersons

by Jennifer Crusie

  “Getting married? Us? Are you nuts?”

  “Yes,” Nick said. “But it’s situational madness. When I’m not around you, I’m a fully functioning adult. Don’t worry. The urge will go away once I’m back in the city.”

  “Well, until then, try not to make any other insane suggestions,” Tess said. “We’re in public.”

  She jerked on the hem of her jacket and started up the steps.

  “You know—” Nick began, but then the door opened, and he shut up. Tess looked up to find an aging monolith in a severe suit waiting placidly before her, backlit by the light from the hall. He looked like a cross between Abraham Lincoln and Lurch of the Addams Family.

  “Hi,” Tess said, holding out her hand. “I’m Tess Newhart.”

  “How do you do, Miss Newhart,” the man said, nodding. “I am Henderson, Mr. Welch’s manservant.” He stepped back from the door, and Tess dropped her hand and stepped through, prodded from behind by Nick and the suitcase.

  “If you’ll follow me,” Henderson said, “I will show you to your rooms. I hope you’ll find your stay with us a most pleasant one.”

  “Oh, me, too,” Tess said, and then winced as Nick bumped her with the suitcase to shut her up. “I didn’t know people had manservants anymore,” Tess whispered to Nick as they followed Henderson up the Gone with the Wind staircase. “Where do you suppose he got him? Sears?”

  “Don’t start,” Nick said, and Tess laughed.

  She laughed again once she was in her room and the door was shut behind her. The huge bedroom was papered in faded Early American blue and furnished in massive Early American walnut. The heavily carved bed was piled high with blue damask pillows that rose to within inches of a sampler that said “Idle Hands Are the Devil’s Playground.”

  Nick came through the connecting bathroom from his room to see what was so funny.

  “Give the man credit for having a sense of humor.” Tess gestured to the sampler. “What a thing to hang over a bed.”

  “You know,” Nick said, looking at her appraisingly, “I have idle hands.”

  Tess frowned at him, mentally stomping on her traitorous thoughts about what those hands could do. “You have an idle mind. It’s not the same thing.”

  “Well, come here and occupy both.” Nick grinned at her, and Tess felt her breath catch. She backed up a step.

  “I don’t think so,” she said.

  Nick jerked his head toward the sampler. “It’s the only moral thing to do. You wouldn’t want me to end up as the Devil’s playground, would you?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, you already are the Devil’s playground,” Tess said. “I can’t believe you’re trying to seduce me with a sampler.”

  “I just think the idea deserves some serious consideration.”

  “Well, you’ll have a lot of time to seriously consider it tonight,” Tess said. “In your own bedroom. Go away.”

  THE BEFORE-DINNER PARTY WAS in full but dignified swing when Nick ushered a black-creped Tess into Welch’s tastefully male living room. The place was an ostentatious display of massive walnut furniture, coffee-colored leather, beige-striped walls and enough brass to outfit a band. Welch had decorated his house in money and leather and liquor cabinets and matched sets of never-opened calf-bound books, and then filled it with people with stiff upper lips who were dressed in clothes that were so well tailored they could probably stand without the people in them.

  Tess felt herself stiffen and told herself to relax, shut up and make nice. It was only for two days, and she looked properly adult in her crepe dress, a dress that had been perfectly pressed by Henderson, who had appeared at her door to suggest that her clothes might have been mussed in the packing process. Henderson was so brilliant at this that he managed to make it sound as though the wrinkles were his fault, and Tess had handed over her dress because she couldn’t bear to disappoint him by turning him down. Now he was quietly making sure that everyone found the buffet, had a full glass and wasn’t lifting the silver. Watching Henderson might make up for the weekend, Tess thought as Nick led her across the lush carpet to the padded bar. It was so rare to see a man who simply took care of everything and then faded into the background. This must be why men liked having wives. Since she wasn’t eligible for a wife, maybe someday she could have a Henderson. Maybe Nick would give her one for Christmas. It did seem mercenary of her, but she was prepared to share him with Gina. Gina would love having a Henderson.

  Then she saw Gina standing at the bar, looking up at Park with her face glowing.

  Not good.

  “What’s wrong?” Nick asked.

  “Nothing,” Tess said. Park must have turned on the charm on the drive down. She watched him with Gina for a moment and then tried to make herself be fair. He was smiling down at Gina, laughing with her, paying absolutely rapt attention to her. No wonder she was glowing. Still, there was no point in Gina’s getting involved with Park. Park made movie stars look stable.

  “That’s Gina,” Nick said, startled.

  “Of course that’s Gina,” Tess said, still annoyed with Park. “You told me to get Park a date.”

  “I told you to get him a respectable date.”

  “Hey.” Tess transferred her annoyance to Nick the lawyer. “That’s my best friend you’re trashing there. Back off.”

  “I like Gina,” Nick said, and then looked back at the bar with a troubled face. “But frankly I don’t think her grammar and her gum are up to this kind of party.”

  “She will do fine,” Tess said coldly, and stomped toward the bar, enraged with Nick and with Park and with herself for getting Gina into this.

  “Oh, great. Tess Trueheart in person,” Park said when they reached them. He looked at Nick. “I suppose you had to.”

  Tess’s temper flared. This was the jerk who had lured Nick into yuppiedom, and now he was making fun of her. All the antagonism she’d felt for her landlord and the Foundation trustees and Nick fused into her glare at Park. “Great to see you, Park,” she said. “Did I ever mention that your name sounds like low-income housing?”

  “Tess,” Gina said weakly.

  “Still the same tact, I see,” Park said, glaring back.

  “Still the same tan, I see,” Tess said. “You know, studies have shown that excessive tanning—”

  “Gina, you look terrific,” Nick said, kicking Tess smartly on the ankle.

  “—can lead to skin cancer and premature aging,” Tess said, moving out of his reach. “Just wanted you to know.”

  “Thank you,” Park said. “I’m touched.”

  “Aw, Tess,” Gina said.

  “Come on, Tess,” Nick muttered. “Play nice.”

  “He started it,” Tess said.

  “Oh, that’s mature,” Nick said. “Could you please act like an adult?”

  “Tess,” Gina said pleadingly.

  “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Let’s try this again.” Tess took a deep breath and smiled a nice bright toothpaste smile. “Hello, Park, it’s good to see you again.”

  Park smiled back tightly. “Always a pleasure, Tess.”

  “Now see,” Nick said, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  Tess shot him a look of contempt and took Gina’s arm. “I need to talk to you,” she whispered before she turned to Park and Nick and said, “Gina and I are going to go find the ladies’ room to freshen our lipstick.”

  All three of them looked at her with varying degrees of surprise.

  “All right,” Tess said. “Gina will freshen hers, and I’ll put some on.”

  “Right,” Gina said, gamely picking up her cue. “That would be good.”

  Tess pulled Gina up the stairs to the master bathroom in search of privacy. When the door was shut behind them, she turned to Gina. “I’m worried about you. It would be a bad idea to get hung up on Park.”

  “Look at this bathroom.” Gina drifted past the walls covered in mint green hand-painted tiles to stroke the porcelain of the huge pale green tub. “I
don’t think I’ve ever seen tile without mildew before. This is so beautiful.”

  Tess ducked under one of the dozen ferns that was suspended from the ceiling and looked around, annoyed. “If this is what the rain forest looks like, I’m going to stop trying to save it.”

  “Oh, Tess.” Gina sank into the rattan chair beside the tub. “Admit it. This is paradise.”

  “No, it isn’t. You’re just confused because of the vegetation. This is merely an extremely pretentious bathroom. I bet Norbert Welch wears a sarong when he’s in here. No, that’s not right. Guys don’t wear sarongs. A loincloth.” She thought about Welch as she’d seen him pictured on the back of his last book, short, hefty and sullen, only this time in a loincloth. “Maybe not.”

  “I don’t mean just the bathtub,” Gina said. “I mean everything. Everything about the way these people live. Park took me out for a drink before we left. At The Levee.” Her voice fell, hushed, on the last word.

  “I’ve been,” Tess said, nodding. “Nick took me once. Overpriced food, obsequious waiters and really good wine. If they’d put in a drive-through, I’d consider going back for the wine.”

  “It was so beautiful,” Gina went on, not hearing her. “And everybody was so nice and there weren’t any prices on the menu.”

  “If you have to ask, you can’t afford it,” Tess said. “And they weren’t nice. They were sucking up. If you were a nobody, they’d have spat on you.”

  “Well, that’s the point,” Gina said. “I am a nobody. But when I’m with Park, I’m somebody.”

  “This conversation is taking an ugly turn,” Tess said sternly. “You are not a nobody.”

  Gina sank back slowly in the chair, drawing her fingers back and forth across the flawless porcelain of the tub next to her as she spoke. “Ever since Park picked me up, I haven’t worried about anything. I know the car’s not gonna break down, that there’s gonna be enough money to pay for the drinks, that Park’s not gonna wrestle me down on the car seat, and that it doesn’t matter that my step-ball-change is not as good as it used to be.”

  “Don’t bet on the Park-and-the-car-seat part,” Tess said, but she sounded distracted. She slid her spine down the bathroom door and sat up on the floor, trying not to tear the seams out of her crepe dress. “Are you still serious about giving up your dancing?”

  “Yes.” Gina met Tess’s eyes. “I’m done. I’m tired and I hurt. I’ve always hurt, every dancer hurts, but somehow it hurts more now. I want to settle down and find a nice job in the theater selling tickets or something, and then find a nice man and have some kids and a real life.”

  Tess leaned her head back against the door and closed her eyes. “Tell me you’re not thinking of Park as a nice man.”

  “Listen.” Gina leaned forward. “I know that marrying Park is not for me. But he is a nice man. And he’s treated me like a queen all night. I’ve never been out with anybody like him.”

  “I can believe that,” Tess said. “There is nobody like him. He’s Andrew Dice Clay with breeding.”

  “No, he’s not,” Gina insisted. “He’s nice. He’s a good person. I like him.”

  “Fine.” Tess held up her hands in alarm. “Fine. Just don’t get serious about him. Don’t count on him.”

  Gina laughed mirthlessly. “Oh, I’m not. I know he’s not my future. In fact, I’m working on my future. The Charles Theater needs a secretary. I’ve got an interview Monday afternoon.”

  “A secretary?” Tess had a vivid, horrific vision of Gina chained to a typewriter. “You can’t type. Think of something else.”

  Gina slumped back in her chair again. “Could you just once be supportive?”

  “I’m sorry,” Tess said, appalled at the look on her friend’s face. “I’m really sorry. I think you’d make a fantastic addition to any theater. I think you’d be the best thing that ever happened to Park. I think you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and I’m really sorry I’ve been such a bummer here. Give me a minute and I’ll be supportive. I just wasn’t thinking.”

  “You don’t need a minute,” Gina said gloomily. “Park is probably already looking for another woman, and you’re right, I can’t type.”

  Tess shook her head, scrambling through her thoughts to find something positive. “That doesn’t matter. You know the theater better than any secretary could possibly know it. And you know theater people. They’d be crazy not to snap you up as some kind of administrative assistant. And I think you should tell them that.” Tess warmed to her subject. “They’d be crazy to waste you typing and filing. Tell them everything you’ve done, everything you know, tell them—”

  “Tess...”

  Tess stopped.

  “It’s okay,” Gina said. “The job part isn’t that big a deal. But please, let me have this weekend with Park without making any snotty cracks.”

  Tess swallowed. “You’ve got it.”

  “Thank you.” Gina bit her lip.

  Tess blinked back tears that had somehow formed when she wasn’t paying attention. “But if he’s not good to you, I will take him apart.”

  “He’s good to me,” Gina said. “He’s really good to me. He told me I was the nicest person he’d ever dated and that I make him laugh and that I’m beautiful. He thinks I’m beautiful.”

  “You are beautiful.”

  “I look Italian,” Gina said.

  “You are Italian,” Tess said, confused. “Beautifully Italian.”

  “I know,” Gina said, exasperated. “But Park is probably one of those guys who only dates WASPs. WASPs with college educations and ivy growing on them. And he thinks I’m beautiful.”

  “Well, hell, he should,” Tess said. “Even I don’t think Park’s such a snob that he’d only date Ivy League blondes.”

  “You don’t understand,” Gina said. “I never even graduated from high school, and he still listens to me. He’s wonderful.”

  “I don’t think education is a big criteria for Park’s dates,” Tess said. “And who cares whether you graduated or not? You’re still a great person and you’ve been everywhere and you know a hell of a lot about the world. Of course he listens to you.”

  “You don’t understand,” Gina said hopelessly.

  “All right,” Tess said, but she had a sinking feeling that she did understand, only too well. Gina had fallen for Park and it was all her fault. She’d fixed them up. Good job, Tess, she told herself, and then shook her head when Gina frowned at her. “All right,” she said again. “I’m with you on this.”

  “Good.” Gina swallowed nervously. “Do you think it would be okay if I had some gum?”

  “No,” Tess said. “But what the hell, chew it, anyway.”

  “No,” Gina said. “I’m not gonna embarrass Park. If you see me doing anything dumb, stop me.”

  “Don’t change for him,” Tess insisted, appalled. “Don’t do it. You’re a great person.”

  “Just for the weekend,” Gina said. “Just for this weekend.”

  “LONG TIME IN THE BATHROOM,” Nick said when they went back to the party, but he was smiling at her as if he’d missed her, and she felt pleased and then immediately kicked herself for feeling pleased. Big deal, he’d missed her. So what. Then he put his arm around her, and she forgot Gina and her problems for a moment and just enjoyed the weight and warmth of his arm on her back and the pleasure of being with him again. Steady, she told herself, trying hard not to lean into him. Get through this weekend and get out, because this man is not for you. He has bad values and worse ambitions. Remember that.

  But all she said was, “We got lost in the ferns. They should hand out machetes at the door.”

  “Well, don’t disappear again,” Nick said. “We’re going in to dinner soon.” Then he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “There are two Decker board members here. Watch your step, don’t say anything controversial and smile at everybody.”

  “Who are the board members?” Tess whispered back.

  “Annalise Donaldson an
d Robert Tyler.” Nick nodded toward a portly gray-haired man on the other side of the room. “That’s Tyler. I haven’t seen Donaldson yet, but she’s here. Welch said so.”

  “Donaldson, Tyler,” Tess said. “She collects terra-cotta, he’s a big Bengals fan.”

  Nick raised an eyebrow. “And how do we know this?”

  “We did our research,” Tess said. “Lead me to ‘em. I’m ready.”

  “Dinner is served,” Henderson announced.

  Welch had evidently given up his lust for leather in the dining room, but the same giant walnut furniture prevailed and the same beige paper striped the walls. Tess speculated that maybe he’d gotten a deal from a walnut-and-wallpaper place, but before she could share her theory with Nick, Henderson showed them to their seats. Tess was next to Norbert Welch at the head of the table with Nick on her right and Park and Gina across the table from them, one seat down. An attractive blond woman came to take the chair between Welch and Park.

  “So this is the little woman,” Welch said to Nick as they reached the table, and Tess turned to look at him in disbelief. Nobody in her life had ever called her a little woman.

  For a great American author, he was a lot younger and a lot shorter than she’d expected, even after seeing his photo on the book jacket. He couldn’t be past his early fifties and his eyes were a couple of inches below hers, which meant he was five six at most. But his face lived up to legend. He looked like a macho literary lion: his thick mane of white hair was so long it covered his ears and then waved back from his battered, square-jawed face, a weathered prize-fighter kind of face that was etched with a permanent scowl. He was the only person in the room who didn’t look as if he’d been designed to go with the decor.

  Tess blinked when she realized that he was studying her as closely as she was studying him.

  “Good to see you again, sir,” Nick said as he reached across Tess to shake Welch’s hand. “I don’t believe you’ve met my fiancée, Tess Newhart.”

  “I don’t believe I have,” Welch rumbled. “So you’re the future Mrs. Jamieson.”

  Tess resisted the urge to explain that she’d be keeping her maiden name, since the point was moot, given that she wasn’t marrying Nick. She smiled instead and heard Nick give a very small sigh of relief next to her. “That’s me. Thank you for inviting us to your home. We’re enjoying ourselves tremendously. And I can’t wait to hear your new book. Henderson told us earlier that you’re reading from it tomorrow.” She started to ask him where he’d bought Henderson and if they took MasterCard, but Welch overrode her.