by Webb, Peggy
“When’s the wedding?”
“Whose wedding?”
“Joseph’s.”
“Heaven only knows. They’ve postponed it six times, three each. They’ve been engaged for five years.”
“Good heavens.” Maxie pretended a big yawn to hide her glee.
“It’s not exactly a sizzling love match. Poor Joe.”
“What’s she like?”
“Who?”
“Joseph’s fiancee.”
“What’s with all these questions? I thought the two of you didn’t gee haw.”
“We don’t. Just idle curiosity. That’s all.”
“Be careful, Maxie. Curiosity killed the cat.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Joseph was too busy to see Susan for the next two days, which was a very good thing. That gave him time to decide exactly what he was going to do when he saw her, exactly what he was going to say.
Under the guise of working on a brief, he spent long hours at his office, sitting at his desk with reams of files spread before him. But it wasn’t the files he stared at, it was a wisp of red lace he’d found in his pocket the day Maxie left, a bit of froth that sent his blood pressure sky-high every time he looked at it or touched it.
Two things were clear to Joseph: His engagement was a farce, and he’d taken leave of his senses.
He’d never been indecisive, but since fate had thrust Maxie into his life he couldn’t decide even the simplest things, such as whether to have wheat cereal or oatmeal for breakfast, whether to wear the navy pinstriped tie or the green one, whether to watch the news on NBC or CBS.
His take-out pizza arrived, and he was distracted from the wisp of red lace while he paid the delivery boy and ate his late dinner.
He’d just bitten in to the first slice when somebody knocked on his door. Probably the pizza boy, forgetting something.
“The door’s open,” he said, and in walked the last person on earth he wanted to see. If Joseph had any doubts about Susan, his feelings dispelled them. He had to do something about his engagement.
“I know you weren’t expecting me,” she said, “but we have to talk”
“You’re right, Susan. We have to talk” He escorted her to a chair, then sat behind his desk, a sure signal that he had already begun the process of separation.
She didn’t seem to mind that he hadn’t greeted her with a kiss or a hug. In fact, she didn’t even seem to notice.
A sadness swept over him as he realized that he couldn’t remember a moment in their relationship when touching Susan had been an irresistible impulse rather than a conscious decision.
“I’ve come about our wedding, Joseph.”
It was the perfect opening. He wondered if, after all, there was such a thing as fate.
“Yes. We need to discuss that.”
“I can’t possibly plan a wedding by December. My patient load has almost doubled in the last six months. Would you mind terribly if we postponed it awhile? Say, until sometime next year?”
“Susan, how many times have we postponed this wedding?”
“I’ve lost count.”
“Well, I haven’t. We’ve postponed it six times. This will be the seventh. Does that tell you something?”
“What are you driving at, Joseph?”
“Did you ever think that perhaps we’re not right for each other?”
“We’re perfect together, Joseph. Exactly alike.”
“Maybe that’s our problem. We’re too much alike. Maybe we need balance.”
“Are you feeling well, Joseph? You’ve never talked like this before.”
That was because he’d never felt like this before. Analytical to the bone, he could decipher a legal problem with ease, calculate all the angles with alacrity, put together a brilliant brief while most attorneys were still doing their homework. But when it came to matters of the heart, Joseph was lost. He had believed that finding the right woman was as simple as analyzing all her qualities to see if they were compatible with his needs.
What he hadn’t counted on was a woman who could fire his blood with a single look, a woman who could stir his passion by a movement as simple as crossing her legs, a woman who could drive him crazy merely by being in the same room. What he hadn’t bargained for was Maxie.
He wanted to do the fair thing. He didn’t want to hurt Susan. He didn’t want to back out on promises.
But most of all he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life wondering if he’d made the right choice.
“Susan, did you ever think that you might want something different? Somebody not so predictable?”
“No.” She twisted the ring on her finger. The two-carat emerald-cut diamond caught the light and shot sparks across his desktop. “I don’t like to be surprised. I like to be in control of every aspect of my life. I always know where you are, what you’re doing, what’s going to happen next. You’re dependable, Joseph.”
“But do you love me, Susan? Not in an intellectual way, but in a way that makes you lose your breath when I walk into a room.”
Susan was an exceptionally intelligent woman and a brilliant psychiatrist. She squared her shoulders and looked at him, not as a lover but as a doctor to a patient. She didn’t speak for a long time, but sat quietly in her chair observing him.
“You’ve met someone, haven’t you, Joseph?”
“Yes and no. She’s someone I knew several months ago, but circumstances have brought her back into my life, and suddenly I’m questioning everything I’d ever believed about love and marriage.”
“I’m going to ask you one question, and I want you to be perfectly frank with me. Do you think this is a temporary condition?”
Susan was really asking him if the two of them had a future. She was saying that she was willing to wait long enough for him to get this nonsense out of his system.
Joseph honestly didn’t know. All he knew was that it would be terribly unfair to keep Susan dangling while he found out whether Maxie was a passing fancy, whether she was like some exotic fruit he had to taste before he could be content with pot roast and mashed potatoes.
He had no intention of keeping Susan in an emotional limbo.
“No,” he said. “I don’t believe it’s a temporary condition.”
“I see.” Susan twisted the diamond around her finger, then slipped it off and set it on the edge of the desk. “Thanks for being honest with me, Joseph. You’re a good man.” She stood up and kissed his cheek. “I wish you well.”
“You, too, Susan.”
He hadn’t expected hysterics from her, nor even tears. But her total lack of emotion told him more than anything about their relationship: It was a meeting of minds, not a joining of hearts.
At the door she turned. “If things don’t work out the way you expect, call me, Joseph.” Her smile was bittersweet. “Not to take up where we left off, but just to talk.... I’ll waive my usual fee.”
“Thanks, Susan. You’re a class act.”
After she had gone Joseph sat at his desk a long time, thinking.
How to woo a wildcat, that was the question. Domesticate her? Tame her?
One thing was certain: He had no intention of doing to her what he had done to Susan. Before he made any decisions about his future, he had to find out exactly who he was.
Obviously he was not the archconservative he’d always believed. Maxie had awakened something wild in him, and he had to find out just how deep that wildness went and just how far it would take him.
o0o
“Did Joseph call today?”
Maxie dropped Mrs. Elmore Prescott’s portfolio onto the drafting table, then plopped onto the sofa, kicked off her shoes, and propped her feet up.
“That’s the first thing you’ve asked every day for the last three days, and no, he didn’t call.”
“Did his secretary call?”
“His secretary didn’t call, his accountant didn’t call, his legal assistant didn’t call, even his mother didn’t call. Nobod
y from the office of Joseph Patrick Beauregard called.”
“I deserved that.”
Claude sat beside her and kicked off his loafers. “No, you didn’t, dear. I’m just being a bitch.”
Maxie raked her fingers through her hair. “It’s been a long week. Mrs. Prescott’s bathroom is driving me crazy, B. J. is watching over me like a mother hen, and I don’t have a clue whether baby Joe’s party will ever come together.”
“Let’s do something wild tonight,” he said. “Something that will make us forget this crazy week.”
“There’s a country-western band at Bogart’s.”
“Can I wear my red western boots?”
“Will they clash with my purple ones?”
The two old friends threw back their heads and laughed.
“Maxie, are you sure Bogart’s is ready for us?”
“It doesn’t matter, Claude. We’re ready for them.”
o0o
What Maxie wasn’t ready for was the man who walked through the door of Bogart’s right in the middle of “Jukebox Saturday Night.”
“You stepped on my boots, Maxie.”
“Sorry, Claude.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Look who just walked through the door.”
“My Lord. He’s wearing jeans. I thought he never went anywhere without his three-piece suit.”
It wasn’t Joseph’s clothes that had Maxie’s attention, it was the woman on his arm. Tall, blond, and flashy, she was definitely not his fiancee, not unless Susan had grown two inches taller, bleached her hair, and had breast implants.
“Who is that woman?” she said.
“I don’t know, but she’s not my type. I would never have guessed she was his.” Claude spun her around the polished dance floor. “Is she yours?”
Maxie roared with laughter. “You’re not only the best dancer in Tupelo, you’re also the wittiest. Did you know that, Claude?”
“Certainly.”
The song ended, and the band segued into a slow ballad.
“Do you want to go somewhere else, Maxie?”
“Are you kidding? I’m not about to let that man spoil my fun.”
Maxie watched as Joseph and his date found a table in a dark corner. She imagined all sorts of deliciously wicked things Joseph could do under the tablecloth... but not to her. After all, he considered her inappropriate.
“I’ll show him inappropriate,” she said.
“Maxie, where are you going?” Claude hurried after her. “Maxie?... Good grief, what are you going to do?”
“Just stand back and watch. And Claude, if I land in jail, post my bail. Okay?”
CHAPTER NINE
“Mr. B!” Hazel dropped her dust cloth and held her hand over her heart. “Lordy, you scared me to death.” The hall clock bonged four. “Are you sick or something?”
“Or something, Hazel.” Joseph hung his jacket in the hall closet and loosened his tie. “I decided to come home early today.”
“It’s about time.” She picked up her cloth and resumed her dusting. “Most folks think you live down there at that office. Some of them even ask me about it.”
“Some people have nothing better to do than indulge in idle gossip.” Joseph kissed her cheek. “Not you, of course, Hazel.”
“They see your car parked down there on Broadway, that’s all. You know me, Mr. B. They don’t get a thing out of me. Not even the time of day.”
Hazel picked up the mail and handed it to him, a large red envelope. “This came today. Special delivery.”
Who would send him a letter in a red envelope? One person popped immediately into his mind. He turned the envelope over, and sure enough, there it was, Magic Maxie’s logo.
Smiling, he crammed the envelope into his pocket.
“I made some lemon icebox pie today. Do you want me to fix you some?”
“It sounds wonderful, but I’ll get it.” The envelope was burning a hole in his pocket. “Take the rest of the day off, Hazel.”
“I haven’t dusted the library.”
“It can wait. Everybody deserves a break now and then.”
“Thanks, Mr. B. I don’t care if folks do call you a tight ass. In my book, you’re as good as they come.”
“Folks call me a tight ass, do they?”
“Lordy, I ought to cut my tongue out. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Hazel, when have you ever been less than blunt?” He took the dust cloth, then got her jacket from the hall closet. “That’s one of the reasons I need you—to keep me in line.”
“I can tell you one thing, the way you were squiring that flashy woman around at Bogart’s last night, it won’t be long before folks will be calling you a Don Juan. It’s about time too.” Hazel slid into her jacket, then squashed her black straw hat on top of her head.
“How did you acquire that bit of information, may I ask?”
“My sister. Her daughter Ruthie waits tables down there. ‘Night, Mr. B. See you tomorrow.”
As Hazel’s ancient green Cadillac pulled out of the driveway, Joseph cut himself a generous slice of pie, then settled down at the kitchen table.
He put the red envelope on the table in plain sight, then dug into his pie. Eating dessert before dinner. It was a small defiance, another way of breaking his own rules. And it felt good. Damned good.
The red envelope lay on his table, a vivid reminder of the woman who had sent it. He wondered what she’d think if she knew people were calling him a Don Juan.
It didn’t matter what she thought. His visit to Bogart’s had taught him something: Maxie was out of his league. Theirs wasn’t merely a difference in lifestyle: They didn’t even inhabit the same planet.
He tore into the envelope and spread her letter on the table.
“Joseph,” it read. “I won’t address you as dear because there’s nothing endearing about you.”
He chuckled. Maxie had revealed herself with one single line. She was still furious at him. And with good cause.
He wondered if he would ever be able to persuade her to think of him as anything except the enemy.
Still chuckling, he continued reading her letter.
“Since you haven’t bothered to return my checklist of party suggestions, I assume that you absolutely hate everything I’m planning for Baby Joe. Good! I’m equally certain that I’m going to hate everything you plan.”
When Maxie got hot, she was very hot. The letter practically scorched Joseph’s hand. He poured himself a cool glass of lemonade and drank the whole thing before he returned to her letter.
“I’m going over to B. J.’s Saturday morning to get some ideas for the decorations. I’m going to use lively colors, red and yellow and purple. I’m sure you’re going to want something conservative. Sorry. When I was at the store I asked about gray pinstriped balloons. They don’t make them.
“The only thing pinstriped I can think of is a zebra. Do you know where we can get an angel to ride it? I would volunteer for the job, but as you know, I’m no angel. Maxie.”
Joseph hooted with laughter. “You can say that again, Maxie.”
Maxie Corban was many things, but angelic was not one of them. Joseph carried the letter to his library and unlocked the bottom left-hand drawer of his mahogany desk. There were only two items in the drawer, and he placed them both on top of his desk, a wisp of red lace and a gold sequined high-heeled shoe, both compliments of Maxie.
He was immersed in memories when the doorbell rang. It was Crash.
“Great jumping jelly beans, what are you doing carrying a woman’s shoe?”
Until Crash pointed out the obvious, Joe wasn’t even aware he clutched Maxie’s shoe.
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got a little time. B. J. and the baby are home napping.”
“How are they doing?”
“Great. Have you got anything to eat? I’m starving.”
“Hazel made lemon icebox pie.”
“Lead me
to it.”
Joseph set the shoe on the table and cut a slice of pie while Crash rummaged for a plate and fork.
“Might as well put two slices for starters.” Crash picked up his fork. “Whose shoe is it? Anybody I know?”
“You know her.”
“Susan wouldn’t be caught dead in that shoe.” Crash held it up to the light, and it sparkled. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Whose is it?”
“Maxie’s.”
“Maxie!” Crash quirked an eyebrow. “She left her shoes at your house? I thought the two of you didn’t gee haw.”
“We don’t. She threw it at me last night at Bogart’s.”
Joseph grinned at his brother’s expression. He’d always been the staid, steady one, the one who never surprised a soul. It tickled him that for once he’d left Crash speechless.
“You’re kidding me. Right?”
Joseph pulled out his chair, then plucked the shoe out of his brother’s hand.
“Actually, she wasn’t aiming at me, but I caught it anyhow.”
Crash completely forgot about his pie. Propping his elbows on the table, he leaned toward his brother.
“Are you going to make me drag this story out of you bit by bit?”
“It all started last night when I took Letty Grimseley to Bogart’s....”
Still holding Maxie’s shoe, Joe leaned back in his chair and told his brother the story, the edited version.
“Maxie was there, with Claude, both of them dancing up a storm. That woman has more moves than a cat on a hot tin roof.”
Joseph got hot just thinking about the way she’d moved on the dance floor. And what he was feeling the day after was nothing compared to what he’d felt sitting at a corner table watching Maxie in the living, pulsating flesh.
“After she finished her dance, I thought she and Claude were going to leave. She’d spotted me. As you probably know, I top her list of people she’d like to push over a cliff.”
“That’s our Maxie.” Grinning, Crash dug into his pie with gusto. “Keep talking. Don’t mind if I snack. This is delicious.”
“Suddenly she turned around and marched toward the bandstand. Before I knew it, she was center stage, belting out a song.”
“I didn’t even know she could sing.”
