“Aurora, dear?”
“Yes.”
“All men are idiots, you know.”
Aurora lifted a brow.
“Trust me. I married three of them.”
“You kept going back for more, huh?”
Daisy grinned. “Can’t live with them, can’t shoot them, as the saying goes. It’s the nature of the beast. But you don’t throw out a puppy because it tinkles. You teach it to go outside. Men are just the same. But they are trainable.”
“Thank you for that wisdom, Daisy.”
Aurora left and slipped into Mary’s room, next door. Mary was watching the weather channel. She saw Aurora, and her face brightened. “You finished the script?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“I met Mike’s grandson.”
“And?”
“He wants to talk Mike out of the marriage.”
“Oh?” Mary didn’t seem at all alarmed.
“Of course, he does think that Mike is marrying me.”
Mary burst into laughter. “Well, no wonder he wants to stop the marriage.”
“But I’m afraid that’s not all of it, Mary. I think he’s worried that his grandfather’s money is going to go to someone else. He’s going to do everything he can to talk Mike out of getting married.”
“Don’t you worry about that, dear.”
“But, Mary—”
“Aurora, if we don’t marry, it won’t bother me at all.” She winked. “We’ll simply live in sin.”
“I think I’d prefer that.”
“I was joking, you know. I’m not sure that either of us is capable of sinning at this moment.”
“But there may be moments in the future.”
Mary shrugged. “Ah, to be young again.”
“I’m hardly young.”
“You’re in the midst of the best years of your life.”
“You said that when I was twenty.”
“And I’ll say it again when you hit forty, which isn’t all that far away. And if I’m blessed, or cursed, with a really long life, I’ll say it when you’re fifty, too.
“Life gets harder, of course, but it’s still what we make of it. And as to Mike and me…we’ll be fine. Don’t you worry.”
“If Max ruins things for you…” Aurora began.
“You’ll what? Punch him in the nose?”
“That will be the least of it,” Aurora promised.
“It will all work out. Once he finds out I’m as ancient as Mike, we’ll be fine.”
Aurora shook her head. “I think he’s just against Mike getting married at all, and the only reason for that has to be that he’s worried about Mike’s money.”
“Then I’ll sign a prenuptial agreement. What could I possibly be after at my age?”
“An inheritance for me. The conniving, scheming granddaughter.”
“Don’t be silly. We’ll just explain the whole thing when Mike gets back.”
“Is he out buying sexy underwear?” Aurora murmured.
“Sexy underwear?” Mary said, perplexed. Then she smiled again. “Oh, I do hope so!”
Serena, one of the nurses, popped her head into the room. “Phone call for you, Aurora. You can pick it up on your gram’s line.”
“Thanks.”
She expected her daughter, or one of her players, but it was neither.
“Dinner. It will be your last chance.”
She was tempted to instantly tell him what to do with himself, but a glance at Mary changed the words she had been about to use.
“You must be joking.”
“Let me convince you. I’ll take you to Adjani’s.”
She was amazed to find herself hesitating. The restaurant had only been open for a year. Just south of St. Augustine, the town that bordered Paradise, it was run by a world-renowned chef. She hadn’t been there, of course. She couldn’t afford to go.
She couldn’t help being tempted to drag her deception on awhile longer. After all, he had made the assumptions.
“I have work to do,” she said, thinking out loud.
“Work?”
“I lost something in the computer today.” His fault. That was reason enough to go to dinner and order the most expensive thing on the menu, and their best wine, as well.
“You can’t actually lose things in a computer,” he said. “Besides, why do you need to worry about work? Won’t looking after Mike be your job once you’re married?”
“I have a previous commitment.”
“Tell you what. I’ll find your lost file in the computer. That will be easier than trying to find Mike,” he muttered.
“Already tried all the risqué shops, have you?” she inquired sweetly.
“Aurora!” Mary said.
Aurora hushed her with a wave.
“Have dinner with me,” he said. His voice had regained its steely quality.
She hesitated. She had to jump before he did find Mike, because then her charade would be over. And she was truly dying to prove to this man just how big an idiot he was.
“Fine.”
“Six? I have a few things I need to do first. And I’ll get back your lost computer data, too. Let’s make it six-thirty.”
“All right.” She realized she would rather rewrite than have this man at her computer. “Forget the data. It—it really isn’t that big a deal.”
He was silent.
“Well, is there anything else?”
“Yes. I’ll need your address.”
“Oh.” She hesitated, then gave it to him. She was listed in the phone book after all; her address certainly wasn’t any big secret.
“See you then,” he said.
“I’ll be breathlessly waiting,” she assured him and hung up.
Over the years, Max had stayed at every conceivable type of hotel, motel, inn and hostel known to man. From the best in the world to a pup tent.
Nothing had prepared him for the Paradise Motor Lodge.
There were no plastic keys here. They were the real thing. And they were handed out with a warning that they had to be returned—or else a whopping ten dollars would be added to the bill.
Gracie MacIver, a middle-aged, middle-sized woman, with a headful of salt-and-pepper hair, had also warned him sternly that if he came back after ten at night—without his key, he was just way out of luck. She went to bed at ten, and so did her husband, Ned.
Other than that, of course, she had been as gracious as could be, offering him a cold drink or hot tea while he signed the register. Ned—also middle-aged, middle-sized and with the same salt-and-pepper hair—had arrived then and offered him a beer.
Gracie had taken her time allowing him to register. She had been on the phone with someone named Sara when he had first arrived, and had told him to take a seat. Then she had smiled and described him to Sara.
Somehow he had kept his natural impatience and his irritation at the entire situation under control, and had waited for Gracie to finish with the local gossip in a manner that was almost polite.
“We’re not in a hurry down here, you know,” she said.
He tried not to make his smile too brittle.
“It’s not New York,” she continued.
“No, it’s not New York.”
“New York is a great place. But Paradise is better.”
“Yes, it’s beautiful here,” he had managed to say.
Gracie gave him a strange smile.
“Take the time to look around. You’ll be able to say that and mean it.”
“I know Florida. I spent a lot of time here, growing up.”
“You don’t know Paradise, though.”
Paradise.
They should have named it Purgatory.
The strange thing was that his room was great. It was spacious, with the kind of amenities that belonged on a tropical island. Each room was really a little bungalow, and the rear doors opened out on a deck that led directly to the beach. The units were spaced far apart, with
plenty of palm trees and wild grass growing between them. With the doors open, the breeze from the sea wafted in and lifted curtains of some sheer fabric that added another of those island touches to the scene. The furniture was wicker, and there were a kitchenette and bar beyond the half wall against which the bed rested—the better to see the sunrise.
The room did feel a bit like paradise.
He allowed that concession as he dressed for dinner. No tie, but a jacket, despite the heat. Although, he had to admit, stepping out on the lanai that led to the beach, the breeze made it comfortable, even with a jacket over his cotton shirt. He might have been alone in the world, with nothing but sand and the sea stretching before him. The solitude, the sound of the surf, the occasional call of a shore bird…
It was almost paradise.
He stepped back inside, thinking about the restaurant, and walked to the phone. He almost made a call to make sure that Aurora was aware that shorts were not allowed.
But she would know that. In fact, he was certain that when he picked her up, she would be impeccably dressed. She hadn’t snared Mike by being a fool.
As he stared at the phone, it rang.
He picked it up. It was Mike.
“Max! I’m so glad you came. I have to tell you. I feel like a kid again.”
“You’re marrying a kid,” Max said. “We’ve got to talk.”
“Well, come on over.”
“I, uh, I can’t come. I’m taking your fiancée to dinner.”
“You’re taking my fiancée to dinner?”
“Yes. I thought we should talk.”
“Mary can’t go to dinner with you. She’s meeting me in the cafeteria in five minutes.”
“She agreed to go with me—wait a minute. Who’s Mary?”
“My fiancée. Mary Beck, the sweetest woman ever to draw breath.”
Max frowned, staring at the phone.
“Then who the hell is Aurora?”
“Her granddaughter, of course.” Mike’s gruff laughter suddenly exploded in his ears. “You thought I was marrying Aurora?”
“Well, yeah. You were telling me all about her the other day. Don’t you remember?”
“What? Oh, that’s because she had just walked into the room. So you came down here thinking some young beauty was marrying me for my money, huh? The bones are old, son. The eyes are going, and, quite frankly, the hearing sucks. They’re right when they say getting old isn’t for sissies. But the mind is all here, son, though I admit to being confused. Surely Aurora explained that I’m marrying her grandmother.”
“Actually, Aurora didn’t explain.”
“So you’re picking her up for dinner?”
“Yes, that’s the plan. Though now I have to meet the real fiancée…no, I’m still going to dinner.”
“That’s fine, Max. We’ll spend some time together tomorrow, and you can get to know Mary then. I’ll just give Aurora a call—”
“No!”
“What?”
“Mike, she played me for a fool. Give me tonight to pay her back a little.”
“Now, Max, you don’t know that girl.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be courteous to a fault,” Max assured him.
“Hmph,” Mike muttered. “Don’t you mess up my marriage.”
“Apparently both Aurora and Mary are eager for the wedding.”
“And you still have your doubts.”
“I just don’t understand why you want to marry anyone.”
“I love her, boy. I love her. Wait until you meet her. Aurora may be a beautiful young thing, but no one has Mary’s eyes. So enjoy dinner, I’ll see you in the morning, bright and early. We old folks don’t sleep much, you know.”
“Bright and early.”
“After a night of courtesy.”
“You bet.”
Max hung up and glanced at his watch. Time to go.
Oh, yeah. He’d be courteous.
Three
Nothing was ever easy, Aurora reflected as she waited for Max to arrive.
She was supposed to be at the playhouse, and she would be, just as soon as Max Wulfson finished making his latest threat against her if she went ahead and married Mike. This opportunity had been just too good to resist.
Aurora had owned the playhouse for over ten years, and she had cause to be proud of her accomplishments. Once, owning the place had been a dream she had shared with Kevin, and his death had almost made her give it up. But they had saved to buy what had once been an old cinema, and though she had almost let the sale fall apart, at the last minute she had decided it was just what she needed to get through her grief after the small plane he had been flying—another of his passions—had crashed.
She had made the theater into a showcase for local talent, young and old. With the multitude of colleges in the area she had been able to hire plenty of young dreamers. She had also been able to give a stage to those who had once dreamed of the grandeur of New York or Hollywood but given in to the reality of small children, spouses, mortgages, aging parents, or other responsibilities. She had never allowed anything to be done in less than a professional manner, though, no matter how young or eccentric her performers or tech people, and in a matter of a few years, she had been stunned to receive offers of work from several well-known professionals.
So the Paradise Playhouse had gained respect and an entry in the “must see” lists of most of the travel guides. None of this had changed the fact that the players also performed for local schools, and now for the rehab and retirement home.
Nor had it changed the fact that she still struggled to stay afloat.
That didn’t mean that she wasn’t happy. She was. She treaded water carefully, and kept the dream alive. And, she thought wryly, she lived in Paradise. Of course, at times she felt very alone in Paradise. But even at her lowest points, the theater was her baby. Without her, it floundered.
But as for tonight…
She picked up the phone and called John Smith.
John had been with her for five years. He was an incredible actor, and she wasn’t always sure how she had gathered him into her fold. He hadn’t come with a résumé, and he seldom talked about his past. He didn’t want to give explanations, and she wasn’t about to force them. He sometimes served as stage manager, and he was there even when she desperately needed someone to paint scenery. He seemed perfectly happy to be in Paradise, making practically nothing, enjoying the natural beauty and asking little else from life. She didn’t know his age—he might have been thirty-something or fifty-something—she only knew that he was there for her, and that she was blessed to have him.
“John?” she said, glad just to hear his voice when he answered the phone.
“Of course it’s me. Who were you expecting? I live alone.”
“I’m relieved that you’re home, that’s all.”
“What’s up? No script, eh?”
“Not that bad. There’s a script. Sort of. Just no Act II. But I’m going to be late. Can you open up and get the rehearsal going?”
“Sure I can, but what about you? You’re the witch.”
“Shelley can stand in.”
“Nancy is sick. Shelley will be standing in for her.”
“She’ll have to stand in for us both.”
“That will be great. She’ll be giving half her lines to herself.”
“Then you can stand in for me.”
“I’m the goblin.”
“You’ll work it out.”
“Why are you going to be late?”
“I have a dinner date.”
“Oh, great. We haven’t got a finished script, and you’re going to show up late because you’ve got a dinner date. Wait. Never mind. This is a good thing. I forgot that I’m the one who’s always telling you that you have no life, and that you’d probably be a better writer if you had sex on occasion.” “John, I’m having dinner, not sex.”
“That’s a pity. Your meal scenes are fine. It’s the romantic interludes that nee
d fixing.”
“John, I’m working on a fairy tale spoof for children and geriatrics. There aren’t any sex scenes in the show. Besides, how dare you say I have no life! I have a great life. I have a home, a daughter, a job—”
“Doing what? Waiting on a bunch of senior citizens hand and foot?”
“Someone has to do it. But I wasn’t referring to that. The theater is my baby, and it’s doing well.”
“Sure. You’re helping every would-be star in the state. And barely breaking even.”
“I have respect.”
“You have no money, and no sex.”
“But I’m doing what I want to do and making a living at it, at least. That’s a lot. And you’re delaying us both here. I have to get ready, and you have to open the theater. And you have no life, either, outside of Paradise, so don’t you dare lecture me.”
“Ah, but you don’t know what I do with my off hours.”
“And how do you know what I do with mine?”
“You have no off hours. So go have dinner. And if the offer comes up, have some sex, too.”
“John, go open the theater.”
“I’m out the door, I promise. Oh, by the way. Wear something a little risqué.”
“Thanks for the advice, John.”
She hung up before he could give her any more. She already intended to dress the part of the young vixen out to snare the old codger.
Angie came in just as she finished dressing. Her daughter plopped down on the bed and stared at her, frowning.
“Did you write a new role for the show? Is this going to be a dress rehearsal for the wicked-hot witch?”
“I’ve got a dinner date.”
Angie’s jaw dropped. “You—you have a date?”
Aurora frowned. “Yes, is that so strange?”
“Uh, no. I mean, yes. I don’t remember you ever having a date.”
Aurora wondered if Angie was upset. If she was thinking about her father. She sat down by her daughter’s side, smoothing back the soft shining fall of her hair. “It’s not actually a real date. It’s Mike’s grandson. He thinks I’m the one marrying his grandfather. And he’s a regular…jerk. I thought I’d lead him on awhile longer, and maybe then, when he realizes his grandfather is marrying Mary, he won’t be such a complete idiot about the whole thing.”
“Oh,” Angie said. She sounded concerned.
With a Southern Touch: AdamA Night in ParadiseGarden Cop Page 12
