by Webb, Peggy
To: Clemmie, Belinda, Bea, Joanna, Catherine, Janet
Re: Movies!
Michael Forrest! OMG, Clemmie, he produced one of my favorite horror flicks – Once in the Dark Woods! What’s not to love about a man that talented!
Listen, Janet, you can’t believe everything you read on the internet, and certainly not in those gossip rags. You should have read all the things they said about me when I was modeling nude in Paris! Thank goodness, the only person I model nude for these days is Sam. And speaking of Mr. Perfect, he just walked into the art gallery for a coffee break and you know what! OMG, he’s AMAZING!!!
Molly
From: Bea
To: Clemmie, Molly, Belinda, Catherine, Joanna, Janet
Re: Sam
As usually, Molly, you’ve given me more information about my brother than I care to know! (giggle) Still, I’m thrilled you and Sam are so happy. You sound as giddy over him as I am over Russ!
Now listen, Clemmie. While I would be cautious around this man – after all, he’s probably been around the block a time or two – I certainly wouldn’t be timid. Just go out there looking drop dead gorgeous and let him chase you until you decide whether you want to catch him or throw him back! And if Virginia gets too hot, shut the door, pull down the blinds, and drag out a toy!
Bea
From: Catherine
To: Clemmie, Molly, Bea, Joanna, Belinda, Janet
Re: Replacement
To tell the truth, I wore my toy out and had to get a replacement! I don’t know which is going to drive me crazy first, vet school or deprivation of Virginia!
Clemmie, this man sounds like a dreamboat! Give him a whirl, girlfriend. And for God’s sake, take off those Clark sandals. Don’t ask how I know you’re wearing them. You’re that predictable, sweetie! Put on some cute heels with straps that wrap around the leg and make you look like you’re salivating for sex! (Aren’t we all? Well, not Belinda and Janet and Molly and Bea. OBVIOUSLY!!!) The rest of the Dixie Virgins should be so lucky. And we will be. I just know it. Clemmie, sweetie, it’s your turn! Go for it!
Cat
From: Joanna
To: Clemmie, Belinda, Bea, Molly, Janet, Catherine
Re: Fernando
This is FANTASTIC NEWS, Clemmie! Grab him and HAVE FUN! This man sounds as gorgeous as Fernando!!! And that’s saying a mouth full. Every time I look at that man I want to rip off my panties!!! He takes me to the greatest night spots – fab music and tapas, the conversation so loud I have to sit on his lap to hear a word he’s saying. OH MY, what a wild ride that is! If Fernando’s as hot out of his jeans as he is in them, I’m going to JUST DIE ON THE SPOT!!! I’m hoping for an engagement ring by Christmas!
Joanna
From: Janet
To: Joanna, Clemmie, Bea, Belinda, Catherine, Molly
Re: Engagement Ring!
Joanna, stay out of Fernando’s jeans! And did you ever find a single thing about him?
Janet
Clemmie was smiling when she closed her laptop. Trust the Dixie Virgins to give her courage and plenty of ideas! She kicked off her Clarks and briefly considered the snazzy high heeled sandals Cat had insisted she order from QVC, though they were a bit wild for Clemmie and way over her budget. In the end, she opted for some really flirty Yellow Box sandals with comfortable soles and just a touch of sequins. The tank top and short shorts might be overkill, and besides she didn’t want Michael Forrest to know she’d dressed to impress. And certainly not to seduce. Good lord, that man had seduction down to an art. He didn’t need any encouragement from her.
Clemmie was halfway to the kitchen when Josephine Tobias picked up the cowbell beside her chair and shook it vigorously. The loud clanging sent Clemmie hurrying upstairs to Josephine’s bedroom.
“I saw him from the window,” the old woman said before Clemmie had time to get into the room.
Clemmie shut the door and crossed the room until she was standing directly in front of Josephine. Leaning down, she shouted close to her ear, “Who did you see?”
“Shoes on a bee?” Josephine reached out a wrinkled hand and felt Clemmie’s forehead. “Lord, child, you’d better stay away from that attic. You’re getting as senile as me.”
Clemmie cupped her mouth and shouted louder, “You said you saw a man at the window.”
Josephine leaned back, her face as faded and yellow as the dried rose corsage on her dress. “No. I didn’t see a van; I saw a man.”
“When?”
“Glen? No, he’s off in St. Louis at that teacher’s conference, I think. Didn’t he tell you he was going?”
“Of course.”
“On a horse? No. I think they took a plane. St. Louis is a mite far to go on a horse.”
Clemmie gave up. She took a step back. “If you need me for anything else, just ring.”
She wasn’t sure whether Josephine understood the words or merely the attitude of dismissal. In any case, she unfolded a paper on her lap and thrust it at Clemmie.
“That’s him. Right there. I was at the window watching the birds when he rang the bell.”
Clemmie smiled. Josephine Tobias had no more been watching the birds than she could fly. She’d been spying. It was her favorite pastime. That and reading gossip tabloids like the one she was holding out now—Secrets of the Rich and Famous. The title of the tabloid was printed in huge red letters across the front page.
Josephine shook the paper. “His picture is right there in black and white.”
Everything clicked in Clemmie’s mind. With Josephine’s combined talents for snooping and reading gossip, she’d naturally have made the connection between their latest boarder and the latest scandal sheet. Curious now, Clemmie took the paper.
“Movie Mogul Denies Children,” the headline proclaimed. Underneath was a close-up of Michael Forrest on the set of what appeared to be a monster movie.
Clemmie scanned the story, picking up key phrases. “Michael Forrest slapped with not one, but two, paternity suits... denies both children... longtime live-in Hubbard Gladstone claims Michael is the father. Melody Raintree... heartbroken. Famous star longs to be a grandmother...severed all ties with Don Juan son... scandal dogs controversial producer...famous Tinsel Town beauty Jinx Maxy files paternity suit. What next for this famous son of a famous mother?”
Clemmie folded the tabloid slowly and carefully, trying to convince herself that Molly was right. Nobody should believe half of what those papers printed. The trick was to separate truth from innuendo.
“Well,” Josephine demanded. “Are you going to let him stay?”
Clemmie wavered. She’d never turned anyone away from her boarding house. In Peppertown it had never been necessary to ask for references. Her boarders had always been as law abiding and trustworthy as the town’s citizens. Deep down, she didn’t want to believe all she’d read about Michael Forrest. Still, he had vowed to bed her.
She felt hot all over. Two women pregnant and one suing for paternity. For a moment she imagined herself as Michael’s lover. If she got pregnant, he’d deny the child, just as he had his others.
Everybody in her small Southern town would be scandalized. Her brothers would take it in stride but still they’d be outcasts in decent Peppertown society. And the poor helpless baby. She didn’t even want to think about that.
“Before we can say Jack Rabbit,” Josephine continued, “we’ll all be scandalized in our beds, pregnant as a house.”
The ludicrous idea of eighty-year-old Miss Josephine Tobias being pregnant as a house brought Clemmie back to her senses.
She tossed the paper aside.
“This is all nonsense.”
“No defense. That’s what I say. We poor helpless women will have no defense against a man who philanders with everything in skirts.” Josephine paused long enough to pat the dead corsage on her shoulder. “What will my poor departed Junior Wade say about that?”
Clemmie stifled a chuckle. Junior Wade had been Miss Josephine’s lover for
thirty years. Although he’d been dead for another thirty, she still referred to him as if they had daily conversations.
“You’ll be safe as a church,” she shouted. “I promise you that.”
“I smell a rat, too. And his name is Michael Forrest.”
She patted Josephine’s hand. “Don’t you worry a minute. I’ll take care of everything.”
“I’d demand a ring, too, before I’d let him lift my skirts.”
Clemmie gave up. Trying to talk with Miss Josephine was as confusing as stepping through Alice’s looking glass.
She waved goodbye to Josephine and went back into the hallway. She hardly knew what to do. When she’d asked for excitement, she’d gotten more than she bargained for. Her Southern Baptist upbringing hadn’t prepared her to deal with a man like Michael Forrest. Even the most intrepid of the Dixie Virgins would be taken aback by a man with that much scandal attached.
She amended her earlier wish for every wicked thing his seductive voice suggested. What she wanted now was merely to survive his invasion into her quiet, orderly life without appearing too foolish or too naive.
She hurried back downstairs toward her room, peering beyond the balcony railing to make sure Michael Forrest didn’t spot her. Safely inside, she got her laptop and almost powered it back up to ask get a consensus from the Dixie Virgins. But something in her didn’t want them to know. Not just yet.
On the one hand, she’d never had a boarder as scandalous and notorious as Michael. For all she knew, he might even be dangerous. On the other hand, she needed the money. She’d had urgent text messages just yesterday from both her brothers. David had to get new track shoes and Daniel needed fifty dollars to buy geology equipment.
She’d confront Michael, she decided. But what would she say? To bolster her courage, she faced the mirror.
“Mr. Forrest, I know all about you.”
That wouldn’t do. It was too accusatory. She tried again.
“Mr. Forrest, we have certain standards here at Brady’s Boarding House.”
No. Too prim and prissy. She made another circuit around the room, took a deep breath and tried again.
“Michael...” That was better. Friendlier. Less remote. “I’ve never had occasion to dismiss a boarder...” That was ridiculous. She couldn’t kick Michael Forrest out even if she wanted to. He was too big. And probably too mean. And certainly too intimidating.
All her pacing and practicing made her hot. She went to the window to let in an Indian summer breeze. Michael Forrest was in her backyard, sitting in her gazebo, feet propped on the railing, acting as if he owned the whole thing. She could imagine the scuff marks his shoes were making against the paint. And she’d just put a fresh coat on last summer.
Her first impulse was to lean out the window and tell him to take his feet down; but remembering the article, she changed her mind. There was no telling what he might do.
She’d started to pull back from the window when he saw her. He stood up with that easy, lazy grace she noticed earlier.
“Looking for me, Clemmie?”
“Yes—” Stopping, she wondered what reason she would give. “No,” she amended quickly.
Smiling, he lifted one of his cocky eyebrows. “Which is it, my darling Clementine? Yes or no?”
“No.”
He left the gazebo and started toward her window. “I’m disappointed, but not deterred.” When he was less than a foot from her open window, he stopped. Suddenly he dropped to one knee and gazed up at her. “ ‘Oh, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?’ “
She was so enchanted by his dramatic rendition of Romeo’s complaint beneath the balcony that she responded automatically with Juliet’s sensible reply.
“ ‘What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?’ “
“Enough satisfaction to leave us both panting.”
“That’s not Romeo.”
“You’re far more delectable than Juliet.” He stood up and leaned against her windowsill. “Where did you learn Shakespeare?”
“The same place you did. From a book.”
“Bravo, Miss Brady. I love a woman with spirit.”
She knew she shouldn’t let his compliment go to her head, but she couldn’t help herself. Her common sense took a back seat to her ego. For the moment she forgot Michael Forrest’s tawdry past.
“I enjoy a man who can quote Shakespeare.”
“And I enjoy a woman who can blush.” He reached through the window and touched her cheeks. “You’re very appealing with your cheeks flushed like that and your eyes sparkling.”
She was foolishly glad that she hadn’t put up screens last summer as she’d intended to. She briefly relished the warmth of his hand before she pulled back. “Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because, I’m not like that.” She reached up for the window, but he kept his hand on the sill. She couldn’t let the window down without squashing his fingers, and she was too polite to do that.
“Like what, Clemmie?”
“Those Hollywood women.”
He smiled. “Thank God for that.”
Clemmie thought his reaction was strange. In her mind, all women in the film world were and gorgeous and sophisticated and willing—all the things she was not. She couldn’t imagine a man like Michael Forrest wanting anything different.
“You don’t know how tired I am of sophisticated, brittle women.”
For a moment the devil-may-care expression was gone from his face. He looked like a man who had lost too much and was mourning that loss. With an insight and a compassion given to those who live close to the land, Clemmie saw that success had not been without a price for Michael Forrest. Neither had notoriety.
Her maternal instinct rose, and she almost reached out to put a soothing hand on his.
“Fortunately it’s only a temporary condition,” he said. “I’m sure that by the time I leave Peppertown, I’ll be fully recovered.”
“I don’t intend to provide the cure,” she said, and she reached for the top of the window again. This time, she began to jerk it down.
Michael jumped back. She slammed the window with a force out of proportion to need, and was rewarded by the alarmed rattling of the windowpanes. The sound gave her a small satisfaction.
“St. Peter’s britches!” she said.
She’d intended to turn her back on him and march across the room. It would have been a beautiful exit. But her curiosity overcame her good intentions. She glanced through the window to Michael laughing his head off.
Clemmie was having a bad day and she knew it. But still, she felt revitalized, as if she were a puny philodendron that had been given a shot of root fertilizer and a good dose of water. She’d never felt perkier.
Her step was jaunty as she walked across the room and picked up her purse. She always did her grocery shopping on Friday morning, and today would be no different. Michael Forrest had delayed her, but he wouldn’t stop her.
She fished out her car keys as she walked toward the back door, all the while thinking that she’d decide what to do about Michael on her way to the grocery store.
The garage in her backyard was an old-fashioned affair, separate from her large Victorian house. The garage was sturdy enough, and painted as white as Easter to match the house, but it tilted at a crazy angle. It always put her in mind of her Uncle Henry after he’d had one whiskey sour too many.
The garage door had no new-fangled remote controls, no buttons to push. It merely hung there, covering the entrance like a malevolent aluminum eye.
She leaned down, grasped the door handle and pulled. The door stuck, as usual. She jiggled the handle and tried again. Still, the door didn’t move.
Putting her purse on the ground, Clemmie leaned down and grasped the stubborn door handle with both hands. She executed a series of twists and jiggles that showed her limber figure to best advantage.
Michael Forrest, leaning indolently against the gazebo, thought she was an entrancing sight. His smile
broadened as she stepped back and gave the garage door a swift kick. Then she put her hands on her hips and glared at it.
A good producer always knew the right cues, and that was his. He strolled across the lawn until he was standing directly behind her. She was so intent on trying to scare the garage door into cooperation with her frown that she hadn’t heard him.
“Dammit,” he said.
She jumped, then turned to stare at him.
“I said it for you.” He chuckled at the look of surprise on her face. “I knew you were too much a lady to cuss, so I decided to come across the lawn and do your cussing for you.”
“I don’t need you to cuss for me.”
“I know. You can do very well by yourself.” He laughed again. “What was it you said a few moments ago? St. Peter’s britches? It was enough to make my toes curl under.”
“How on earth...” She stopped talking and put her hands on her hot cheeks. “I didn’t think anybody heard me.”
“You were standing just inside the window. And you were shouting.”
“I never shout.”
“I beg your pardon, ma’am.” His bow was as exaggerated as his fake Southern accent. “I’d never contradict a sweet Southern belle. Let’s simply say that I have bionic hearing. Like Superman.”
Clemmie couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. In this playful mood, he reminded her of her brothers. When they were home they were always teasing her about something.
“Do you also have bionic muscles? This garage door is stuck, and I can’t seem to get it open.”
“Strength and chivalry are two of my many sterling qualities.” He came around her and lifted the stubborn garage door. Clemmie thought he made it look easy.
“Thank you. I could eventually have done it, but it would have taken a while, and I’m already late for my grocery shopping.”
“How can you be late for grocery shopping?”
“I have a strict routine that I follow.”
“Is kissing a part of your routine?” He reached out and lifted a strand of her shiny hair with his index finger. It slid across his skin, silky and alive.
