Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Clementine (Book 5)

by Webb, Peggy

  OH, just listen to me! I don’t even know yet if he has a mama. I mean, OF COURSE, he has one, but she might not be living! He’s so close-mouthed about everything! Maybe I should try for sedate with a little black dress and pumps? I HATE SEDATE!!! Maybe I’ll just be ME and the witch can like it or lump it. When you come to the wedding, don’t tell Fernando I called his mama a witch!

  Joanna

  From: Janet

  To: Joanna, Clemmie, Bea, Belinda, Catherine, Molly

  Re: Wedding???

  Joanna, what wedding? Did we miss something?

  Janet

  From: Bea

  To: Joanna, Clemmie, Belinda, Catherine, Molly, Janet

  Re: What wedding?

  Ditto what Janet said.

  Bea

  From: Janet

  To: Joanna, Molly, Bea, Belinda, Catherine, Clemmie

  Re: Are you there?

  Joanna? You’ll killing me! Did this man already give you a ring? How could you forget to tell us something like that?

  Janet

  Clemmie watched the emails come in quick succession from Cat, Molly and Belinda, all asking Joanna about her wedding. But there was nothing except silence from Madrid. Finally, she shut off her email and then just stood staring out the window. Sometimes life was so confusing there was nothing you could do except wait to see what would happen next.

  Chapter Six

  Michael surveyed the crowd.

  Two hundred people were milling around the brightly lit ballroom in his house, drinking too much, laughing too loud, and telling too many lies. That’s the way all his parties were, he reflected, glitzy and boisterous and shallow.

  As the waiter passed by, he took another glass of Baron Philippe de Rothschild’s Opus One and lifted it to his lips. The red wine was smooth and rich, and it did absolutely nothing to make him forget the woman he’d left in Peppertown three days earlier.

  “Michael! Darling!” A glamorous blonde took his arm and pouted at him. “Where have you been keeping yourself?”

  He made no attempt to be charming. Giving her a bored smile, he asked, “Denise, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, Michael! You’re such a tease. I’m Darlene. Remember Acapulco?”

  “Should I?”

  “You said you’d never forget... and a year later you hardly remember my name.” She pouted again. “Shame on you. You’ll have to do something wonderful to make it up to me.”

  His gaze roamed over her. She was soft and voluptuous, her blue sequined gown clinging in exactly the right spots and baring just enough skin to entice. Vaguely the memories came back. They’d been on location; she’d had a bit part in his picture.

  “You love dancing on the beach. Right?”

  “Right! How clever of you, darling.” She took his arm. “And what else do I love?”

  He merely arched his eyebrows, preferring to let her take the lead.

  “The moonlight, Michael. Remember how I love to feel the moon on my skin?”

  He remembered. She’d provided some nice after-hours entertainment. Maybe tonight she could provide forgetfulness.

  “Dance, Darlene? For old times’ sake?”

  “As long as you hold me close. I like to cuddle the man I’m dancing with.”

  He remembered now that’s what he’d liked about Darlene: she got right to the point. And she expected nothing from him except a good time.

  He gave his empty glass to a passing waiter, led her onto the dance floor, and pulled her close. His conscience pricked him. Before his trip to Peppertown, he’d have sworn he didn’t even have a conscience. And now he was feeling like a cur for using one woman to forget another.

  Darlene’s shoulders were bare above the sequined gown. He slid his hands across that expanse of soft white flesh, hoping to feel excitement, desire, anything except the slow dull pain that weighted him down. Clemmie. Her image came to him as bright and shining as a hummingbird on the wing. He remembered the look of her, the feel of her. Her shoulders had been slim and firm and lightly tanned. And they had turned his heart inside out.

  He missed a step.

  “What’s the matter, darling?”

  “Sorry. Lack of concentration.” He eased Darlene back so he could get through the dance without her too soft, too voluptuous body pressed close to him. Suddenly he discovered that he didn’t want to forget with Darlene... or with any other woman.

  She gave him a puzzled look, but continued the dance. Michael thought it would never end. When it did, he led her toward the buffet table, picked up two glasses of wine and handed one to her.

  “For me?” Her smile was inviting. “I always love gifts.”

  “Take the drink, Darlene, but don’t accept any more cheap imitations of love.”

  She started to laugh; then seeing the look on his face, she stopped. “You’re joking, of course.”

  “No. Even rakes sometimes have a conscience.” Leaning over, he gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for the dance, Darlene. Enjoy the rest of the party.”

  He walked away, the music pulsing around him. The orchestra he’d hired was playing some awful modern number that didn’t even have a tune. As he slipped through the crowded room, people clapped him on the shoulder and told him what a great party he was having. All he could do was nod and smile and keep on walking, for his mind was in another time, another place. Even though he was in the middle of what the gossip columns were sure to call one of the most glamorous events of the season, he was seeing a dark-haired woman in a white cotton gown.

  He slipped through the French doors and stepped out into his courtyard. A soft California breeze whispered around him, sighing her name. Clemmie. His hand tightened on the stem of his glass of wine; then with a muttered curse, he flung the glass against a stone wall. The red wine stained the white wall, and the Baccarat crystal splintered onto the brick pavement with a careless tinkle.

  Michael didn’t even bother to inspect the damage. Instead, he left his party and went to his basement gymnasium. Pulling off his tuxedo jacket, he attacked his punching bag. He fought it viciously, with elbows and fists and feet. Sweat lathered his body. He stripped off his shirt and continued his attack.

  As long as there was plenty to drink, his guests would never miss him. He was like Jay Gatsby from that incredible new film, The Great Gatsby. He’d deliberately planned a guest list of casual acquaintances, almost strangers, and celebrity hangers on, and as word leaked out, the rest just showed up. His presence wasn’t needed. His butler would show them out.

  He continued fighting the punching bag, working with such single-minded determination he didn’t have time to think about his reasons for avoiding his real friends, for surrounding himself with people he barely knew, for giving the kind of party he hated.

  Two hours later he went back upstairs. All his guests were gone and the orchestra members were packing their instruments away. He thanked them for a good job and went up the curving staircase to his bedroom.

  He didn’t bother to turn on the lights. Crossing to a chair by the window, he sat in the dark, thinking. He’d run away from Clemmie, and it hadn’t worked. She was as much a part of his thoughts as if she were sitting across the room from him. What was the matter with him? Why hadn’t he taken her to bed the way he would any other desirable woman? And what in the devil was he going to do about her when he went back to Peppertown to film his movie?

  There would be no way to avoid her. Peppertown was too small. Groaning, he closed his eyes, but her image was stamped on his eyelids.

  He jumped out of his chair and strode across his room. Jerking off his pants, he headed for the shower.

  He turned the cold water on full force. It raised goose bumps...and it cleared his head. There was only one way he could get that innocent vamp out of his system, and that was take her to bed and prove to himself that she was just an ordinary woman. She wanted him: she’d said as much. Nothing would stand in his way this time—not conscience, not nobility, not scruples.
>
  o0o

  From: Clemmie

  To: Belinda, Bea, Janet, Molly, Joanna, Catherine

  Re: The movie

  It has been more than a week since Michael left, and I don’t think he’s coming back. Gossip around Peppertown is that he’s found another location for his movie. Virginia is safe but I’m blue as a hen without a rooster.

  Clemmie

  From: Janet

  To: Clemmie, Belinda, Catherine, Molly, Bea, Joanna

  Re: lunch

  I’m driving over for lunch tomorrow, Clemmie, and don’t you dare cook. We’ll go to that little restaurant in Peppertown. What’s it called? I should have already been over there, but there was so much to do at the hospital when I got back from the conference, and I didn’t want to miss any of Dan’s games.

  I’d bring Belinda, but I think she and Reeve are still in Florida.

  Joanna, where are you and what’s going on?

  Janet

  From: Belinda

  To: Clemmie, Janet, Bea, Catherine, Molly, Joanna

  Re: Lunch with Clemmie

  Oh, I hate to miss lunch with Clemmie. But Reeve and I are on the road. We left Disney World this morning and expect to be at Bea and Russ’s house sometime tomorrow afternoon. Or maybe a day or two later. Traveling with my husband is always a wonderful adventure! Sometimes an overnight stop turns into three days just because we’ve found a fabulous hotel and great restaurants. Sometimes we stay a while because we need to be with each other and practice baby making!!! Still no luck on that front, but boy are we getting in the practice!

  Belinda

  From: Catherine

  To: Clemmie, Joanna, Molly, Bea, Belinda, Janet

  Re: New Orleans

  Belinda, why don’t you and Reeve leave the children with the nanny when you get home and drive over to New Orleans? There’s nothing like great blues and Southern cooking and great shopping to put a woman in the kind of relaxed frame of mind she needs to conceive.

  Clemmie, if I were you, I’d forget about this man and come down to New Orleans to shop! We’ll have a great time. And even if Michael does come back, don’t let him see how much you’ve missed him.

  Joanna, if you don’t let us hear something, I swear I’m going to drive to Tupelo and tell Kirk to put a detective on your tail!

  Cat

  From: Molly

  To: Clemmie, Joanna, Bea, Belinda, Catherine, Janet

  Re: being brief

  I’ve come down with a rotten cold. UGH! Sam has me tucked in bed and is bringing chicken broth and taking my temperature every hour. If he weren’t so sweet and cute about it, he’d be driving me crazy! You will just have to carry on without me. My head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. I couldn’t think even if I wanted to give advice.

  Molly

  From: Bea

  To: Clemmie, Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Molly, Joanna

  Re: Belinda’s visit

  We can’t wait for you to get here, Belinda! Russ has a new grill, and is planning to grill steaks for us and hot dogs and burgers for the children.

  Clemmie, don’t you dare let this man get you down! You’re worth more than all the movie producers in Hollywood, and don’t you forget it. Go to New Orleans and shop with Cat. That’s the best medicine I can think of. Cat, take her to that fabulous shoe shop in the Quarter!

  Joanna, if you don’t pipe up and tell all, I’m going to come to Madrid and kick your butt!

  Bea

  From: Joanna

  To: Janet, Clemmie, Bea, Catherine, Molly, Belinda

  Re: Wedding

  OF COURSE I’M GOING TO MARRY FERNANDO! Just not yet. You know I’d NEVER marry without every one of the Dixie Virgins at my side!

  Clemmie, if Michael Forrest doesn’t behave himself, slap him and move on! I’d show him nothing except my fancy butt marching in the opposite direction!

  Now, if I can just get Fernando to take me to meet his family, I’ll be a happy camper.

  Joanna

  From: Janet

  To: Joanna, Molly, Bea, Clemmie, Catherine, Belinda

  Re: Fernando

  Joanna, he hasn’t taken you to see them yet? I smell something rotten in Madrid, and it’s not the fish!

  Janet

  From: Bea

  To: Joanna, Molly, Clemmie, Catherine, Belinda, Janet

  Re: That slick man

  Ditto what Janet said, Joanna! Listen, get your fancy butt out there and find out about this Fernando. How hard can it be to find out where he lives? Buy a cake and tell his mother you wanted to surprise her on her birthday. When she says it’s not her birthday, look all wide-eyed and innocent as only you can, and tell her you must have misunderstood, but Fernando is such a darling you’re glad you got to meet her anyway. There’s more than one way to skin a cat!

  Bea

  From: Clemmie

  To: Joanna, Bea, Janet, Molly, Catherine, Belinda

  Re: Surprise visit

  It might work for you, Joanna. I hope so. I wouldn’t have the brass to do it with Michael.

  Make it a chocolate cake, and good luck!

  Clemmie

  Clemmie closed her email and her laptop. Though Michael was still God knows where, she missed him a little less because she had the Dixie Virgins, and she could count on them, no matter what.

  Tomorrow she and Janet would sit in Woody’s and talk over chicken salad sandwiches. And though they might not solve Clemmie’s problem, she would feel infinitely better.

  o0o

  A week after his party, Michael Forrest was back in Peppertown. This time he’d brought his seventy-five member movie company.

  A pasture five miles from Clemmie’s boarding house had been transformed. Trailers for the cast and crew had been set up underneath a sheltering of pine trees. A large tent with a gaily striped top served as a temporary dining room. Flatbed trucks and cranes and cameras were being unloaded.

  Michael and his publicist, Jay Wilkins, stood outside his trailer, just finishing a press conference with three local newspapers and the area television station.

  “Is it true, Mr. Forrest, that after your initial visit, you came back to Peppertown because you consider this location to be the most suitable for your horror movie?” The television reporter, Larry Hammond, stuck his microphone into Michael’s face.

  “That is partially true. Peppertown has a small town ambience that is perfect for my movie.” He looked straight into the camera and gave a wicked grin. “But there is another reason I came back to Peppertown.”

  “And what is that reason, Mr. Forrest?”

  “A woman.”

  The reporter looked flustered, but he recovered quickly. “Well, now, Mr. Forrest, our audience loves a human interest story. Are you going to tell us who this woman is?”

  “Yes. The woman is Clementine Brady.”

  “You mean Clementine Brady, the owner of Brady’s Boarding House?” The resourceful reporter had done his background research. He knew everything about the town that had been selected as a movie site, and he knew much about its citizens. “And what are your plans for Miss Brady?”

  “Romance, Mr. Hammond. I plan to give Miss Brady the romance of the century.”

  The excited reporter turned and faced the camera. “You heard it right here on WPEP. Famous Hollywood producer, Michael Forrest, has vowed to romance local beauty, Miss Clementine Brady. And he’s promised it will be the romance of the century! This is Larry Hammond on the set of Moonlight Madness wishing you good night

  o0o

  Clementine Brady nearly fell off the sofa.

  She was sitting in her quiet, orderly parlor with Miss Josephine and Harvey when she heard Michael announce her name on the ten o’clock news.

  “Good grief!” She put her hands on her hot cheeks.

  “My Lord.” Harvey propped his bony elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “That man has his gall.”

  Clemmie plucked at Harvey’s sleeve. “Shh. I want to hear this.” Her hear
t pumped so hard when he announced his intentions that she was sure Harvey would hear.

  “What’d he say?” yelled Miss Josephine.

  “He said he was going to romance her,” Harvey shouted.

  “Finance?”

  “Romance!”

  “St Peter’s britches,” Clemmie said. “Now the whole town knows.”

  Harvey jumped up off the sofa and cocked his fists. “I’ll take care of that rascal. Just tell me what you want me to do, Clemmie.”

  She sat on the sofa, too stunned to think. Then she was suddenly filled with such energy and enthusiasm that she felt as if she could slip-cover Texas and still have enough strength left over to sew a ruffle around Arkansas. She smiled up at Harvey.

  “What I want you to do, Harvey, is sit back and watch the fun.”

  “The fun?”

  “Yes. If Michael Forrest thinks I’m going to be intimidated by his public announcement, he’s sadly mistaken. I’m going to give him a dose of his own medicine.”

  The next morning the newspaper headline was “Romance of the Century.”

  Standing in her front hallway, Clemmie read the article with great interest. She hadn’t had her name in the newspaper since she’d been valedictorian of her high school graduating class. To have her name linked with a Hollywood producer right on the front page of the paper for all of Peppertown to see was exciting and invigorating and slightly naughty. For the first time in her life she felt like a woman of mystery, a glamorous, decadent woman, who probably had shady secrets in her past.

  Laughing, she threw the newspaper onto the hall table and went into her bedroom to dress. She rejected everything that looked the least bit sensible and settled on a pair of black wool slacks and her red turtleneck sweater. She even delved into the jewelry box she’d ignored for years and came up with a pair of red rhinestone earrings. Heaven only knew how long she’d had them or why she’d bought them in the first place.