"Right," Jane said. "Don't let pride stand in your way. Lavish your love on him without expecting anything back. That way you're always pleasantly surprised when you get anything in return."
Lacey sighed. Jane was right. What difference did it make whose finger dialed the numbers to connect their voices on the phone? They weren't keeping score. The point was, she wanted to talk to him. If he didn't want to talk to her, he could refuse the call when he heard her voice.
She spent the rest of the day trying to decide what she would tell him over the phone. She would make her call as newsy as a letter. The problem was, since he'd left, nothing exciting had happened. Life without Rafe was plain uneventful.
Lacey waited until late in the evening to make her call; that gave him long enough to try to call her first, if he decided to grace her telephone with a ring. It was also long enough for him to complete any business transactions he might be involved with and have dinner before returning to his hotel room. He could, of course, be out at a Broadway show, or dancing with some woman, or drinking it up with the guys in some bar, or inviting some other woman to his hotel room, or…
She picked up the phone and dialed the number before the silence had her inventing a Roman orgy in a suite at the Plaza Hotel.
The phone woke him up.
"What are you doing asleep?" Lacey asked, all of her prepared speeches banished at finding him in his room asleep at this hour of the night. "It's early."
"It's an hour later here," he answered between yawns.
"Oh," Lacey said, "I forgot. But that's still not late for you. Have you been working very hard?"
"It happens automatically with this New York pace," he answered. "Especially when I get up at six o'clock in the morning to meet a client."
"What are you doing at six in the morning?"
"Eating breakfast," he answered.
"I didn't think New York was a breakfast sort of town."
"Not always," Rafe answered, his voice sounding stronger as he came more fully awake. "How about you, are you having a good day?"
"Miserable without you," she answered, and could tell by the pleased sound from his end that her bit of honesty had been well received. "But otherwise managing. I'm not getting as much work done as I should, but I'm limping along okay."
"What do you mean you're not getting much work done?" he asked. "You have to get busy. I expect you to make a lot of money so that you can keep me in the style to which I want to be accustomed. And I don't come cheap. I have a child to support, you know."
Lacey laughed. That was the next best thing to his saying: Come be my companion, come live with me. "I know, I know. I'm working on it. Give me a chance."
"Seven horses can cost a lot of money too, and I have to make periodic trips to St. Joseph, Missouri, for a new Stetson every once in a while."
"I can handle that," Lacey assured him, smiling. He was as good as telling her he wanted her around forever. "What you have to understand is, I tend to invest in quality things, the type that last."
"I see."
"And I also happen to believe that you get what you pay for."
Rafe laughed. "As long as we have these things straight."
"I've made a note," Lacey assured him, and asked about some of the details of his trip. She was happy now that she had been the one to call, because this way she could talk as long as she wanted to without worrying if she was running his phone bill up too high.
He asked her about the boutique and Lacey discovered she had plenty to tell him about, without even thinking of what she wanted to say. With Rafe, she could talk about everything that interested her and he understood and accepted her business sense. Even though he didn't deal in dress designing, he had enough grasp of the business that he didn't require detailed explanations. He already understood marketing techniques and design concepts and timing. And the comments that he made were delivered as intelligently as a business partner's.
"I miss you," Lacey told him, expecting the same words returned, at the very least.
"I'll be home in a few days," he answered, not even giving her the satisfaction of knowing whether he did miss her or not.
Lacey felt herself getting angry at the evasive answer he had given her. Then she took a deep breath and realized what she had done. She had deliberately said the words to prod the same kind of response from him. With Rafe, that just wouldn't do. He was not going to do, say or think anything until he was ready. And then it would be done his way.
"Well, I do miss you," she said again, this time saying it because she wanted him to know it, not because it was part of the long-distance script.
"You take care of yourself," Rafe told her. "And stay busy. It makes the time pass faster."
Lacey smiled. That could mean that he was understanding.
"It's hard to stay busy when the nights are so long," Lacey told him, and again she could tell from his reaction she had said something he wanted to hear.
"Try getting up at six a.m.," he said, laughing. "That helps too."
"You're no help," she said, laughing with him. "Here I am going crazy without you and you're telling me to set my alarm clock earlier."
"What else can I do?" he asked.
"Come home," she answered. "Or else find some business for me to do so I can fly up there and join you."
"Come on up," he said. "I'll pay for your ticket."
The thought excited Lacey, but she knew she couldn't take him up on his half-serious offer. "No, I couldn't do that," she said. "You wouldn't get any business done with me around."
He laughed. "That's for sure. But it doesn't mean I don't want you to be here."
Lacey beamed at that. He couldn't have said he wanted her any more clearly.
"Come spend the weekend with me," he invited.
"Oh, I… I'd love to," Lacey answered. "But I'll be happy just to have you home. You need to get your work done while you're away."
"I'm not talking about working on the weekend. I'll be finished by then."
"Then just come here. We don't have to do anything. I just want to be with you, okay? Place doesn't matter half as much as the person."
"I'll think about it," he answered. "And you think about it too."
"Think about what?"
"The weekend," he answered. "I'll let you know when I'll be back."
Chapter Ten
On Friday morning Lacey was nibbling pencils and crumpling papers again, but this time it was over a design. She had worked into the evening yesterday, clearing all the financial paperwork off her desk and roughly sketching the designs she wanted for her spring and summer shows. When Rafe returned home on Saturday, she could put the work at the boutique behind her for a few days.
One of the shop assistants knocked on the wall and walked through the open doorway to Lacey's studio, hoping not to disturb her. "Lacey, I hate to bother you, but there's a man downstairs who looks like the proverbial bull in a china shop, except that he's in the lingerie section and I don't know what to do with him."
Lacey swiveled in her chair. "What does he want?"
"He says he wants to see you."
"Is he the husband of one of our regular customers?"
Linda shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't ask."
Lacey smiled. The new girl still had a lot to learn about diplomacy and how to delicately pull all the information she needed out of a customer in order to determine what kind of buyer he was. "I'll come down. I'm not accomplishing much up here anyway."
A smile broke across Linda's face. "Thanks. Nothing I tried to show him appealed to him. Maybe he's a friend of yours."
Lacey checked her makeup, straightened the skirt of her dress and walked elegantly down the stairs to meet the mystery customer. When she saw his back and he turned at the sound of her footsteps on the stairs, Lacey hopped down the remainder of the steps and ran into Rafe's arms.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, laughing, running her hands over his shoulders as if to make certain he was in one piece. She to
uched the cheek with the scar and hugged him against her. "I didn't expect you to come in until tomorrow. Why didn't you let me know?"
"I am letting you know, now," he said, grinning, holding her away from him to look at her in the same all-inclusive manner. "I finished up early yesterday, on purpose, because I wanted to get back here to spend the weekend with you."
"You did?" Lacey purred, snuggling up against him.
"I told you to think about it, didn't I?"
"I thought you just meant think about you coming home. I haven't done anything else but that. You should see the cartons of broken pencils and wadded paper I've gone through."
"Some other time," he said, rubbing her back as he kept her in the circle of his arms. "Right now we don't have time."
"For what?"
"You have forty-five minutes to pack a bag for the weekend."
"Forty-five minutes?"
"Yep. That's it, and then I'm leaving with or without you."
"Just like that? Forty-five minutes?"
Rafe nodded.
Lacey didn't question the edict twice. He wasn't kidding. He might be lenient enough to give her fifty minutes if she ran late in packing, but when he set up the schedule, she had the choice of following or backing out. "You mean leave all this behind?" she asked, grinning. "Let the boutique take care of itself?"
"You can handle that, can't you?"
"Without advance notice?" she teased.
"I told you to think about the weekend."
"You got a deal," Lacey declared. "But forty-five minutes! What will I take?"
"All I need is you," he said, grinning.
Lacey blushed. "Where are we going?"
"To Florida, so bring a bathing suit, and we're going to a wedding, so bring a dress, but you won't be needing much of anything else."
"Is that a promise?"
"I'll do my best," he answered, the grin widening.
"But why are you only giving me forty-five minutes? Do we have a deadline we have to meet?"
"Not really," he answered. "I just want to miss all the late-Friday-afternoon traffic. Besides, an early start will give us more time together."
Lacey snuggled into his arms again. "I like your thinking. But what if I forget something essential, like a toothbrush?"
"If you forget anything, we'll go on a shopping spree. But forty-five minutes should be long enough for an organized lady like you to pack."
"I've never timed myself before," she answered, her mind already jumping ahead to sort through her closets and decide what shorts and tops and jeans and accessories she needed to take with her. As often as she traveled, she already kept a cosmetics bag filled with essentials, so that would just have to be tossed into the suitcase.
Rafe kissed her briefly and let her go. "Actually I'll give you an hour—from now. Then I'll be by to pick you up. I have a couple of errands I have to do here in town first, and it should only take me about that long."
"Okay," Lacey answered, her mind still on her packing, trying to decide now which suitcase to take. "Oh, Rafe?"
"Hm?"
"Did you see anything you liked?" she asked, grinning.
"Where? In New York?"
"No, here, in the shop."
"You."
"That isn't what I mean," she said, and pointed. "In the lingerie section."
"Oh," he said, turning around again so that he could scan the room with his eyes. "I see you in all of them," he answered. "But I'd rather see you outside of them."
Lacey smiled. "I guess that's one thing I won't have to pack."
"Right," he answered, smiling at her. "An hour, then, okay?"
"Yes, sir!" she answered, and kissed him again before he walked out the door.
Lacey hurriedly told Jane she'd be gone for the weekend and assumed she would be back in on Monday, but not to count on it unless they actually saw her.
"So that's Rafe Chancellor," the new shop assistant said.
"I'll have to tell you all about it on Monday. He's only given me forty-five minutes to pack, and I don't want to keep him waiting."
"I can see why," she answered. "Well, don't worry about the shop. We'll keep everything under control."
"I never do worry with the two of you here," Lacey answered, smiling.
"Somewhere along the way," Rafe said an hour later as they drove along Highway 90 past the bright white sand on one side and the lush pines and Southern mansions on the other, "I have to buy a wedding present for this couple."
"Tell me about them and I'll help."
"I was with him in Vietnam. This is his second marriage. I don't know anything about the girl. I can't even remember her name."
"Hm," Lacey said. "Has she been married before?"
"I don't think so."
"So chances are they've both been living on their own in independent households for a while. That rules out a lot of stuff like pots and pans. And we don't know what her tastes are, so you don't want to get too specific guessing color schemes for the bedroom or bath." Lacey asked him to give her a better description of his friend, but that didn't help her much in deciding on the perfect gift.
They passed the Biloxi lighthouse sitting in the middle of the road. Lacey always tried to picture it painted completely black as it had been in honor of President Lincoln's death. Now it was all white and landlocked.
"Why not get them something typically Mississippian, something they can't find anywhere else?"
"Sounds good to me," Rafe agreed. "Like what?"
"We're going through Mobile, right?"
"You have to drive through Alabama to get to Florida, last time I checked."
Lacey let his elementary driving lesson pass. "That means we're going through Ocean Springs and Gautier and Pascagoula."
"Right."
"Have you ever been to the Singing River Pottery?"
"I don't think so," Rafe answered, slowing down as the light ahead turned red.
"You would have remembered," Lacey assured him, turning in her seat so that she could sit with her leg beneath her. "It's run by Jose Gautier in her family home. She does all original ceramics from handmade molds."
"What sorts of things does she make that we could pick out for a wedding present?"
"She uses only things from her home, her yard and the water as her inspiration," Lacey answered. "Magnolias and fish are her specialty. You should see some of the dies she uses. Very realistic, especially since she makes her molds from the real fish."
"I'm not convinced a cold fish would make a warm wedding gift."
"That's just her specialty," Lacey argued, and continued to describe the Gautiers' antique home to Rafe and some of the other things she had seen Josie design. "Her designs have made her a very famous Mississippi artist," Lacey told him. "Do you know the legend of the Singing River?"
"I guess not," Rafe answered, starting the car forward as the light changed to green.
"The legend says a princess of the fierce Biloxi tribe fell in love with a young Pascagoulan chieftain, although she was engaged to a chieftain of her own people," Lacey said. "The enraged Biloxians declared war on the smaller tribe. Faced with the large number of warriors the Pascagoulans were up against, victory was hopeless. The tribe refused to separate the lovers, and they didn't want to face subjection to the Biloxi tribe, so they chose death. All the women and children and the braves joined hands, and chanting, they all walked into the waters of the Pascagoula River. Supposedly on late-summer evenings you can hear the sound of the chanting from the waters."
"Is that so?"
Lacey shrugged. "I asked Josie about it one time when I visited her, and she said she used to listen to it on moonlit nights. She even wrote a song about it, putting in the part about the Indians chanting and pleading for their lives, and then a rumbling to represent the river singing. She said it sounds like a loud humming."
Rafe smiled. Legends and history, like romance, appealed to him, even if he wouldn't admit it to Lacey. "Where is this place?
"
"Not far off the main highway, just before we cross the bridge over the bay."
"Do you think we can find something other than a fish for a wedding present?"
"Sure," Lacey told him. "But don't rule out the fish. They're beautiful. They make lovely wall plaques."
As they neared the Pascagoula bridge, Lacey gave Rafe directions to the Gautier home set beneath twisted oaks and overlooking the water from the bay. They walked across the screened-in porch and into the entrance hall lined with shelves of some of Josie's smaller creations, her shell jewelry, convention pins, miniature magnolias and acorns.
Lacey let Rafe go ahead of her into Josie's living room, where her larger works of ceramic art graced the walls and tables. A piano with Josie's original sheet music sat at one end of the room with several of her fish hanging from the wall. Shrimp, crab and oyster-shell designs on serving trays and platters sat on the dining table. All carried her trademark.
"The five waves of the trademark," the hostess explained, "are the five lines of the musical staff. The waves represent how the Singing River flows endlessly along. The treble clef is turned over to make the S for the word 'singing' on the third wave, which is C in the treble clef, and 'river' is written on the second wave, which is C in the bass."
Lacey watched Rafe prowl around the room, assessing which item would make the ideal wedding gift for his friend. As usual, he wasn't revealing his reactions, but Lacey could tell his eye for beauty was impressed by the talent revealed in Josie's works.
"What's this oyster shell for?" he asked, picking up a large, lifelike ceramic piece.
"That's a duplicate of one of the shells that came off the old Spanish fort in Pascagoula," the girl told him.
"It looks so real," Lacey said, standing next to Rafe, "but I don't think that's the kind of wedding present you're looking for."
"No," Rafe agreed, putting it down. "But it does look like the real thing."
"Have you been to the fort?" the girl asked.
"No," Lacey and Rafe both answered.
"It's the oldest building in the lower Mississippi Valley, built in 1718. They've made it into a museum," the girl said.
Lacey wished they had time to see it. Rafe would probably enjoy it too, she decided, but she wasn't going to suggest it. This was his weekend. She was just happy he wanted to have her along with him.
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