by Webb, Peggy
She gave him a dazzling smile. “Why don’t you find out?”
“Why, Madame, you shock me, stuffy old judge that I am. It’s high noon.”
“What better time for love?”
She took his hand and led him into her bedroom. She flipped a switch on the headboard of her bed and the soft strains of “I’m in the Mood for Love” filled the room.
“Can I trust this bed?” Todd asked. The question was purely rhetorical. As he watched, Amy shucked her T-shirt and swimsuit and hopped into the middle of the bed. She looked so glorious sitting there naked, sun-polished and golden, that he wouldn’t have cared if the bed had disturbed the entire town of Sunday Cove.
“The bed is trustworthy. I’m the one you should be worried about.”
“That sounds ominous.” His own T-shirt and swimming trunks fell in a heap on the floor.
“Be forewarned,” she said, stretching her hand out to him. He captured it and placed a lingering kiss in her palm.
“Do you plan to throw a window box in my direction?”
“No. I have other things in mind for you.”
“Why don’t you show me?”
She trailed her fingers along his chest. “This could take some time. Maybe the rest of the day.”
“How about the rest of my life?”
Amy still wasn’t ready to answer that question so she kissed him, instead, and they were lost in their own world.
While they loved, the bed played on. Unheeded by them, the music changed tempo. “I’m in the Mood for Love” sputtered to a halt and was replaced by a raucous blaring of trumpets.
“Do you hear music?” he murmured as he brushed her damp hair off her temple.
“Could be. Every time I’m near you, I hear music.”
“Sounds like trumpets.”
“Hmmm. Angel trumpets.”
“The best kind.” His hands bracketed her face. “I love you. Amy Logan.”
“And I love you, Judge Todd Cunningham.” She leaned down and pressed her mouth to his.
“Do you hear a loud banging?” he said against her lips.
“I think it’s my heart.”
“I think it’s the door.”
“Keep kissing and ignore it. I’m not expecting company.”
“Amy.”
“Hmmm?”
“I hear the door and trumpets.” Suddenly he stiffened. “It’s the bed again.”
Amy sat bolt upright. The bed was playing “Dixie,” and she started giggling. “Stand up and salute, Todd.”
“I already did that.”
She swatted him on the rump. “You call that saluting?”
He grinned wickedly. “What would you call it?”
“Heavenly.”
He laughed and rolled out of bed. “One of us has to answer the door.”
“It’ll probably be a firing squad this time. You go.”
“I never have my judicial robe when I need it.” Todd pulled on his damp swimsuit and raked a hand through his tousled hair. “How do I look?’
“Like you’ve spent the afternoon in bed.” She flicked off the music. “What will you tell them?”
“That I’ve spent the afternoon in bed.” He headed for the door.
“Todd!” she called, but he had already disappeared.
Amy sat in the middle of the tumbled covers and waited. Though she cocked her head toward the door, she couldn’t hear a thing. She chuckled. What would he tell the neighbors? If she hadn’t been stark naked, she would have strolled through the sitting room to eavesdrop.
The minutes ticked by. When her curiosity had reached the explosion point, he strolled back into the bedroom.
“I’m dying to know what you told the neighbors,” she said.
“Oh, this and that.”
She thought his smile was perfectly outrageous. “Todd! Tell me.”
“I’ll tell you this much: the neighbors will never complain about this bed again. As a matter of fact, they’re liable to stand up and salute the next time it plays ‘Dixie.’ “
Amy turned bright pink all over. “You didn’t tell them ...”
“Last one in the shower has to scrub my back.” He disappeared into the bathroom and was already under the water, humming, by the time Amy arrived.
“Scrub your back, indeed,” she grumbled as she squeezed into the tiny stall beside him. “That wasn’t even a fair challenge.”
“Use lots of soap, Amy. I’m partial to soap.”
She washed his back with unnecessary vigor. “Did you say we were ...”
“You missed a spot.”
“You didn’t mention ...”
“A little to the left.”
She threw the washcloth at his back. “You’re mean. Scrub your own back.”
He turned around and squeezed her to his chest. “Do you know what happened to the cat, Amy?”
“The one that put me in the courtroom?”
“No. Just any old cat.”
She peppered leisurely kisses across his chest before she answered him.
“What happened to the cat, Todd?”
“You’re making me forget.”
“Finish the story. You know how I love your stories.”
“Curiosity”—he bent and flicked his tongue in her ear—”killed”—he stooped to nuzzle her neck— “the cat.” He captured her lips.
She pulled away. “How did it die?”
“Now who’s being mean?” He pulled her roughly back to him. “I’ll show you.”
And he did.
A small eternity later he let her slide back down his body until her feet touched the shower floor.
“Lucky cat,” she sighed.
o0o
They called Aunt Syl that evening.
“She always stays at the Waldorf,” Amy told Todd as she dialed the number.
The phone rang three times with no answer. She began to feel anxious.
“Answer,” she pleaded. Her eyes were enormous as she looked up at Todd. “She was tired the other evening when she came home from the concert.”
“I’m here.” He put his hands on her shoulders and massaged the back of her neck. “Don’t borrow trouble, love.”
Aunt Syl answered on the sixth ring, and Amy went limp with relief.
“Aunt Syl! Where on earth have you been?”
“To Saks and Bloomingdale’s and Macy’s. You should have seen the dinner I had at Tavern-on-the-Green. I’ve been to Broadway and Central Park. I ate hot dogs and listened to a street concert. You sound breathless, dear. What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing.” Amy looked up at Todd and smiled. “It’s so good to hear your voice. How are you?”
“The same as I was day before yesterday: chipper as a grasshopper and twice as feisty as most women my age. Is Todd there with you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you wasting your time talking to me? Can’t you two think of something more exciting to do?”
“We already have.”
Aunt Syl’s laugh was so hearty, even Todd heard it. “Well, if you’ve run out of ideas, turn to page 88 in my last book. That ought to keep you busy for a while.”
“You’re a naughty senior lady.”
“I know. But at least I’m not dull. ‘Bye, Amy.”
“Take care, Aunt Syl.” Smiling, Amy cradled the receiver. “She’s all right,” she told Todd.
“From what I gathered, she’s more than all right. Your Aunt Syl is a remarkable woman, Amy.”
“I wish she could live forever.”
Todd looked into the face of the woman who had loved and lost so often. First her parents and then her husband. He wanted to protect her from sorrow, shield her from loss, but he knew he couldn’t. Life dealt bad cards along with the good. The best anyone could do was try to stay in the game.
He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed.
“Do you know what I wish?” he asked.
“What?”
“I w
ish I had a double fudge sundae with three scoops of whipped cream. How do you feel about a quick visit to Clara’s Cafe?”
Amy beamed. “At last! I thought you would never get around to food.”
“Can I help it if the lady distracts me?”
o0o
The moon made dappled shadows across the musical bed. Amy tossed about, her sleep disturbed by a dream. It was the same dream she’d had since childhood. The characters changed but the setting was always the same. She was standing in a thick fog, reaching out for people who were no longer there, her parents, gone since she was a child, and Todd, forever lost to her in the mists.
Tonight the dream was particularly disturbing. Todd was the one who stood out of reach in the fog. She ran toward him, her hands outstretched, and found herself clutching emptiness. He would reappear, and once more she would reach for him. Thick fog would separate them again.
“No,” she moaned in her sleep.
Todd was instantly awake. “Amy?” He raised himself on an elbow and looked down at her sleeping face, twisted in pain as she mutterd no, no, no. He cradled her close and stroked her face. “I’m here, love. I’m here.”
“Todd?” She opened her eyes and clung to him. “Thank heavens, you’re all right.”
He brushed her hair back from her forehead. “Of course I’m all right. You just had a bad dream, love.”
“You were there in the fog and I couldn’t find you. You kept disappearing ... like my parents ... like Tim.” Her nails dug into his back.
“Do you want to talk about it, Amy?”
“Just hold me, Todd. Hold me.”
He held her until she fell asleep. But he stayed awake a long time pondering the significance of her dream.
Amy was subdued the next morning. As they prepared breakfast he wondered at the way she seemed to ease around him, avoiding touching.
“Is anything wrong, Amy?”
“It’s Sunday. You’ll be leaving today.”
He laughed. “I’ll only be going downstairs.” He crossed the kitchen and put his hands on her shoulders. “And if I have my way, you’ll be coming with me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why live in separate apartments when we love each other? Besides, we need to be together so we can plan a big family wedding.”
“I can’t.”
“If you keep saying that, I’m going to develop a complex.”
“I won’t be moving in with you, Todd.”
Her face was set and pale, and he felt a small prickle of fear. His attempted laugh was hollow.
“All right. Since you’re such an old-fashioned woman, you can wait until after the wedding before moving in.”
She lifted her hand as if warding off disaster. “Please don’t talk about weddings, Todd.” She shrugged out of his grasp and turned her back to him.
The small prickle of fear became full-fledged alarm. “Okay. I’m being pushy. I admit it. It’s just that I see no point in waiting since we love each other.”
She made no reply.
“You do love me, don’t you, Amy?” he asked quietly.
Clenching her fists behind her back, she turned to face him. “We’ve had a lovely weekend affair. Let it go at that.”
“I won’t accept that. What we’ve had is more than a weekend affair.”
“You have to accept it. I was wrong about—” She stopped and bit her lower lip. Telling this lie was going to be the hardest thing she ever had to do.
“Go on.” His voice had an edge of steel in it.
“I was wrong about loving you. I made a mistake.”
“You could have fooled me.”
She turned her hands palms-up in an eloquent attempt at nonchalance. “So ... I enjoy making love. My body sometimes says things my heart doesn’t mean.”
“Say the words, Amy.”
“What words?”
“Say, ‘Todd, I don’t love you.’ “
“Todd, I ...” Her resolve faltered as she looked at his face. How could she deny love when whole being was telling this could be a true soul mate?
“You can’t say it. Let’s talk this out, Amy.”
“Please just go.”
Seeing how distraught she was, Todd mentally kicked himself. What she needed was understanding, not high-handed treatment.
“I’m sorry, Amy. I didn’t mean to upset you. Let’s just sit down and discuss this over a cup of hot tea. We’re two sane adults. There’s no problem between us that can’t be resolved.”
“It’s not between us. It’s me. I can’t handle this relationship.”
“What we had is too good to be shrugged off so lightly.”
“It was good while it lasted, Todd, but it’s over. Finished.”
“I’ll go, Amy. I’ll give you time—”
“I don’t need time. My decision is final. I’ll never change my mind.”
“Never say never.”
Watching him leave was one of the hardest things she’d done in a long while. Even after he was gone, she stared at the closed door, half hoping he’d change his mind and come back.
And then what, Amy Logan? You take what you want and send him packing again?
She wondered if she was turning into a selfish woman.
Chapter 9
On Monday morning Aunt Syl and the petunias arrived at the same time.
Amy looked up from her invention. She managed a small smile for her aunt, but she wanted to scream when she saw Todd’s butler holding the window box. Petunias spilled over the sides of the box in a riot of color. It was the rainbow Todd had promised her.
Aunt Syl and Justin immediately engaged in a lively discussion about petunias and concealed weapons while Amy stared at the window box, swamped by memories and the overpowering fragrance of orange blossoms. Had Todd tucked a stem of them into the box as a not-so-subtle reminder of Sunday Cove’s famous romantic legend?
There was no way she could tell without being obvious, so she squinted toward the box as conversation swirled around her.
“I could use a box of petunias in chapter nine,” Aunt Syl said to Justin. “Nobody would notice a bloody knife in all those red blooms.”
“A unique idea,” Justin agreed. “Rather like Poe’s ‘Purloined Letter.’ “
“Exactly!” Aunt Syl’s dark eyes glittered with excitement as she tried to see beneath her tilted blond wig. She raked the wig back from her eyes, sending it farther askew. “Where do you want Justin to put this flower box, Amy?”
Amy didn’t want the flowers. Seeing them would be a constant reminder of Todd. “I’ve changed my mind. Justin, please take them back to Judge Cunningham and tell him that I’ve changed my mind.”
Aunt Syl looked at her niece, astonished.
“Nonsense,” she said. “Why waste perfectly good petunias? Put the box at that window, Justin, and thank the judge kindly.”
Justin smiled his gratitude at Aunt Syl as he carried the box to the window.
Amy didn’t want to make a scene. Let him put the window box there. She’d simply not look at the flowers. She’d turn her head away every time she had to pass by.
Justine made quick work of the box and then handed her a note. “From the judge,” he said.
“Thank you, Justin.” Amy stuck the note into her skirt pocket. She felt awkward and foolish with her stiff upper lip and her formality. She wanted to rush to the window box and bury her face in the rainbow of flowers. She wanted to search for those tell-tale orange blossoms that were now making her feel light headed.
Aunt Syl gave her another telling look then linked arms with Justin and led him toward the door. “How lovely of you to bring the flowers! Let’s have tea this afternoon and discuss knives. Maybe even hatchets. That Clyde gets worse every day. A real cad. Oh, and do tell that perfectly wonderful judge Aunt Syl sends her regards.”
She closed the door firmly behind Justin and turned back to her niece. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing. I had a we
ekend fling and it’s over.”
“A fling!” Aunt Syl’s tone told Amy what she thought of that hateful word. “My dear, you’ve never had a fling in your life. One doesn’t have flings with perfectly gorgeous men like the judge. One has a romantic interlude.” She put her arm around Amy’s shoulder, and her voice softened. “What’s wrong, dear? You look like you’ve lost your best friend.”
“Maybe I have.” Amy turned and buried her face in her aunt’s bony shoulder. “I just couldn’t handle it, that’s all. Todd is wonderful, but I had to let him go.”
Aunt Syl patted her head. “This will work itself out.” She looked at the flowers and smiled. “I’m sure of it. In the meantime, why don’t we spend a perfectly frivolous afternoon exploring the city?”
Amy raised her head. “Are you sure you feel like it? Aren’t you tired after your trip?”
“I feel positively rejuvenated. New York does that to me. Besides, I want to shock Sunday Cove with the new wig I bought. Wait till you see it.”
Aunt Syl hurried into her bedroom and came back with a silver wig laced with streaks of pink. She twirled around to show off her new hair.
“What do you think?”
“I think if I could bottle your spirit and sell it, we’d be rich.”
“We are, dear.” Aunt Syl linked arms. “We have each other.”
o0o
Amy forgot the note in her pocket as they strolled through the heart of Sunday Cove. They ended up at Clara’s Cafe where Amy was certain she glimpsed Todd out the window and she was equally certain the scent of orange blossoms was going to be the cause of a full blown headache. She never had headaches.
“Yoohoo!” Clara waved at them from behind the cash register, then came over with three cups of coffee and three pieces of a mysterious looking confection piled high with whipped cream. “You two looked like you could use some cheering up.”
“Oh, that smells divine.” Aunt Syl stuck her finger into her whipped cream then licked it off. “And tastes even better. What did you put in it, Clara? Orange blossoms?”
Clara roared with laughter. “I didn’t have to put the orange blossoms in. Amy and Todd did that all by themselves.” She waved out the window. “Yoohoo, Judge!”
Todd waved back but he didn’t linger. Still, Amy thought she might drown in the heady, mysterious scent.
