Hey, Good Looking

by Fern Michaels

  It was Ben’s turn to have his jaw drop. “You did?”

  “Oh, yes. Almost every night. Until Mary told me about the ugly things you used to say about me. I was too skinny, too many freckles, and my braces made me look like a snapping turtle.”

  Ben stared at her in shock. “I never said any such thing. Not ever. Mary used to tell me you said I was a buffoon. Hell, I didn’t even know what a buffoon was until Dodo told me. She said you were going to marry Russell when you grew up. She clinched it when she said Russell made you a daisy chain. Let me tell you, that statement sent me skulking away. As I recall, when a guy made a girl a daisy chain it was serious stuff.”

  Darby burst out laughing. “We aren’t kids anymore, Ben. You can make me a daisy chain anytime you want.” Darby smiled and Ben thought he’d never seen a more beautiful sight. Willie barked and danced around Ben’s feet, not understanding what was going on.

  Anytime you want.Damn, he was going to have to ask Dodo how to make a daisy chain. “Well, sure. Do you have daisies in the garden?”

  Darby laughed again as she teased him. “I have tons of Gerber daisies all around the house. All colors. Why do you think I planted them? Because,” she said, a wicked gleam in her eye, “I knew you’d come back someday.”

  I’ll be damned. She’s flirting with me!Ben suddenly felt like he was sixteen years old again. He shoved the papers he’d printed out for her into her hands. It was something to do to break the moment. Was it his imagination, or did Darby look disappointed.

  Darby looked down at the thick wad of papers in her hand. She laid them on the worktable. “This looks like serious stuff. Let’s go into the kitchen. I’ll look at them later. No sense spoiling our picnic. And anyway, it’s Willie’s dinnertime.” At the mention of his name, the retriever headed for the door leading to the kitchen, where his food bowl waited.

  “Do you think he misses Russell?” Ben asked as he followed Darby into the kitchen.

  “Yes, he does. Especially at night. He starts out sleeping in his bed with Russ’s tee shirt and at some point in the night, he climbs up on the bed with me. He doesn’t bring the shirt, though. Sometimes he covers his baby, you know, his teddy bear, with the shirt. He knew we were at Russ’s town house the other day because he kept sniffing me when we got home. I guess we brought Russ’s scent home with us. He’s going to be fine. The aunts love him. I do, too. I worry though that he may still be lonely. I’ve actually been thinking about getting him a companion. Someone to romp around the yard with.”

  “That sounds like a good idea. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll run over to Dodo’s and grab a quick shower.”

  “Sure. I think I’ll do the same thing. It will take at least thirty minutes for them to deliver the pizza. What do you like on yours?”

  “Everything but anchovies,” Ben called over his shoulder. “I’m partial to pepperoni and green peppers. Garlic, too. Maybe some onions.”

  Darby laughed. “That’s the works minus the anchovies.” She was still laughing when she picked up the phone.

  A picnic on the front porch with Ben Gunn.My childhood dream coming true. Oh, Lordy.

  10

  It was seven-fifteen when Darby, in her bare feet, trotted across the lawn to the back alley to pick up the pizza from the delivery man. She paid the driver, accepted the pie, turned around, and bumped into Ben, who had a wad of money in his hand. “You can buy it the next time,” she said. “Just so you know, Willie gets the crust. Don’t you, boy? Dogs can’t eat anything that has tomatoes in it. At least that’s what Russ said. He was really up on dog stuff.” The retriever sniffed and barked.

  The next time.It sounded good to his ears. Ben shoved the bills back into his pocket. “I think it’s going to rain again,” he said, just to have something to say.

  “This is Baton Rouge. It rains almost every day when it’s this hot. Did you forget?” Darby chided with a smile.

  “Sometimes I do forget, and other times I remember everything. Every little thing. I guess I block stuff out I don’t like remembering. Let’s eat. I’m starved.”

  They were on the front porch, where Darby had set up a little folding table with paper plates, napkins, and a jar of hot peppers. A small bucket held ice and bottles of the family beer. She opened the box, and said, “Dig in.”

  Darby eyed Ben over her slice of pizza. He looked handsome, and he smelled wonderful.

  They ate in comfortable silence until the entire pie was gone. Willie had a pile of crusts on his plate.

  Darby uncapped a bottle of beer. “The aunts should be in Rayne by now. I wish I knew what the three of them are up to.”

  Ben didn’t want to talk about the aunts or Eric McAllister. He wanted to talk aboutthem. “Would you like to have dinner with me on Friday night? A date,” he mumbled.

  Darby felt herself blushing and wondered if her girlhood crush could possibly still be this strong. “You mean like I get gussied up, you ring my doorbell, and off we go?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I can ring your doorbell. I guess you have to get dressed up to go to Armand’s.”

  “Armand’s! I hate Armand’s. How about Chinese? I love good Chinese. That way we can wear shorts, I don’t have to wear makeup. Makeup runs in this humidity.”

  “Oh. That’s certainly reason enough to do Chinese. Dodo said you loved Armand’s.”

  “Dodo loves Armand’s. It’s a date then. What time?”

  “Seven.”

  “Oh, look, it’s starting to rain. I love sitting out here on the porch. What I really love is watching a good storm. How about you?”

  “I might like it if you were with me. I don’t think I ever sat around and watched a storm.”

  Darby tilted her head for a better look at the man sitting next to her on the swing. “You’re an odd duck, Ben Gunn. I suspect you were so busy running from your memories you just haven’t taken the time to enjoy the little things in life. Am I wrong?”

  “I have a lot of regrets, if that’s what you mean. But I’m not sure I’d do anything different if I had to do it over again.” He stared upward at the lazy circles the paddle fans on the porch ceiling made as they tried to battle the heat.

  Darby reached for Ben’s hand. “You have to deal with the memories and the regrets, Ben. Otherwise, you can’t move forward. Dealing with life isn’t for sissies.”

  Ben laughed ruefully. “How’d you get so smart?”

  “Russ. We used to talk it out. During the last few years he was able to leave the baggage behind. He found his niche, his peace. The longer you keep things locked in, the harder it is to let it go. Anytime you want to talk about it, I’m a good listener.”

  Ben smiled. Darby’s heart kicked up a beat. “Do you really think I’m an odd duck?”

  “Only in a nice way. Want to take a walk in the rain? I’m already in my bare feet. Remember how we used to pray for rain so we could make mud pies? Then we’d throw them at each other, and the aunts would hose us off. Followed by cherry Popsicles and those fat lemon cookies.”

  Ben kicked off his Docksiders and reached for her hand. “Let’s do it.”

  They started off by walking across the lawn toward the gazebo. At the halfway point, Darby dropped Ben’s hand and raced ahead. She ran, zigzagging this way and that way, daring Ben to catch her. She was soaked to the skin, her clothes cleaving to her slim body. Willie ran interference as she slipped, fell to her knees, righted herself, and ran around the gazebo. They laughed the way they had when they were children, surrendering to the moment. When Ben slipped and went down, Willie raced to Darby, inching her forward. Laughing, gasping for breath, her hands on her knees, she stared at the handsome man she’d lusted after as a young girl. In the blink of an eye, Ben’s hand reached up, pulling her down on top of him. He kissed her long and hard, the rain pounding their bodies with relentless force. Willie ran to the gazebo, shook the rain off his silky coat, and settled down to wait for his new mistress.

  Ben’s voice came from his toes—ma
ybe his gut—when he struggled to say, “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  The dining room hummed with the bustle of the waiters and the clink of china and silver. It wasn’t as crowded as it usually was on a weekday night, allowing the four women to pick the table they wanted in the farthest corner of the room, where they ordered white-wine spritzers they only pretended to drink.

  Ducky took a moment to wonder what it would be like to eat a romantic dinner here with the private detective she’d just hired. She shook her head to clear it of such thoughts as she concentrated on her three dinner companions.

  “I do like a table set with real table linens,” Dodo said. “I particularly like the Inn’s wineglasses. Don’t you, Trixie?”

  “I suppose. I never really gave it much thought. Fred and I pretty much eat on the fly. That means whatever we can pop into the microwave. The dogs take up all our time.”

  “Okay, ladies, this is the plan we hatched,” Ducky began. “I’m going to call Bella and invite her to lunch. To congratulate her. I think she’ll fall for it. She’s so hungry to be on the tour, I don’t think she will question the call at all.

  “I will allude to the fact that the Garden Club is getting ready to make plans for the Christmas Candlelight Tour of homes here in Baton Rouge. I’m sure Bella knows she has to have three sponsors just to benominated. We number three. God, I hope I don’t choke when I have to say that. That’s my contribution, and I want to go on record as saying it’s the worst part of this caper.”

  “Caper.I so love that word,” Trixie gurgled. “Fred and I wrote sixteen books with the wordcaper in the title. Each one was an instant best seller.” The skinny, stringy little woman beamed at them over her wire-rim glasses. She was smaller than Dodo, weighed a colossal eighty-seven pounds, and had the tensile strength of steel.

  “I wonder how much you’re going to like this littlecaper when we get hauled off to the slammer,” Diddy groaned. “If that happens, what will become of poor Marcus?”

  Trixie shrugged her skinny shoulders. “The object is not to get caught. I’ve plotted enough books to know the devil is in the details. Now, what you have going for you is that battery-operated wheelbarrow. I didn’t know there was such a thing. I sure hope no one steals it. Did anyone see you park the truck in the lot?”

  “No. We parked by the Dumpster. That pickup truck is so old, we’d have to pay someone to steal it,” Dodo said. “It’s nothing fancy like that Lincoln Navigator you showed up in, Trixie.”

  “Flash requires a lot of room. The Navigator has lots of room. But”—Trixie held up her hand—“that fancy-dancy wheelbarrow will not fit into the cargo hold. That means I’m going to have to drive the pickup with Marcus in the wheelbarrow all the way to Rayne. Flash will guard him.”

  “And you don’t think people will notice?” Diddy squealed in outrage.

  Trixie clicked her dentures. “Not with a tarp over him. I’m not stupid, Diddy. Then tomorrow evening, I’ll send Fred back with the truck, and he will exchange it for the Navigator. It’s the details,” she said smugly. “This is an exceptionally good plot line. I just might come out of retirement to write the story. Fred will love it. But there’s still one thing missing. How can we kill off that bitch?”

  Three sets of eyes zeroed in on Dodo, who held up her hands and said,“Yeow! I can push her nose right up into her brain. Is that gory enough for one of your books?”

  “It’s perfect. Fred is gonna love this. Okay, back to business. I meet you with the Navigator at the path you two made earlier. Dodo drives the pickup truck. Dodo and I go up the incline. Diddy stands watch with Flash until we load Marcus in the back of the pickup. We wheel Marcus down, dump him in the back, cover him, and off I drive to Rayne. Dodo and Diddy take my Navigator back to the inn to wait for Fred to show up. How’m I doing, ladies?”

  “You forgot the part about getting the wheelbarrow up the incline and Dodo knocking out the nurse. Not to mention Marcus. He might get a littlepissy when he sees he’s being kidnapped,” Diddy said through clenched teeth.

  “That wheelbarrow is better than a billy goat. It can take the incline. Trixie and I can handle it. I’m not going to kill the nurse, I’m just going to put her to sleep. Now let’s adjourn to Trixie’s room, where we can discuss this further without people watching us. We can use room service for additional refreshments.”

  Trixie was off her chair in a nanosecond, ready to go, the leftovers in a doggie bag for Flash.

  The worrier of the foursome, Diddy voiced her other fear in the elevator. “In case none of you noticed, it’s raining outside. What are we going to do if it’s raining tomorrow and the nurse doesn’t take Marcus out for lunch?”

  Trixie eyed her old friend. “Then we go to Plan B. Or, we create a diversion. We have a killer in our midst,” Trixie said, pointing to Dodo, who winced.

  “That means shut up, Diddy, and stop worrying,” Ducky snapped. Diddy clamped her lips shut but not before she said. “It’s almost two hours to Rayne from here.”

  “And your point is…” Dodo said.

  “That’s a long time to spend in a wheelbarrow.”

  “Give it up already, Diddy. The end will justify the means.”

  “God help us all,” Diddy mumbled as she trundled down the hall to Trixie’s room.

  Bella welcomed the new day. How wonderful it was when things worked out according to a plan. Today she felt like she had a golden aura because everything was finally, finally, going her way. The best thing she’d ever done in her whole life, aside from marrying Marcus for his money, was donating her stepson’s organs to the donor program. Who knew such a decision could give her what she’d lusted after for over twenty years?

  Right now, right this very minute, she felt like she had the Preservation Society and the Garden Club in the palm of her hand, and the members of the Garden Club had hinted that she would be nominated for the Christmas tour. Then, just last night, one of the members had called to give her a heads-up that they were starting to process the nominations and to watch her mail. She’d been so giddy she hadn’t been able to sleep all night long.

  Bella looked down at the pile of papers on her dressing table. Phony building orders. For the benefit of all those highfalutin society ladies—especially Sarabess, who had demanded to see the work orders. So, she’d spent a whole day writing out plans that would please the committee, plans that she had no intention of carrying out. The only work order that counted was the one where sheverbally instructed Tigger to take a wrecking ball to both buildings. For the princely sum of twenty-five thousand dollars in cold hard cash, Tigger agreed to say he misunderstood his client’s instructions in regard to the wrecking ball. She knew how to pretend outrage. She practiced daily in front of the mirror.

  As Bella preened and primped in front of the mirror she wondered if the Garden Club would give her a “Generous Citizen” award. If they did, she had just the right place to hang it. Right in the foyer where anyone who entered the house could see it. Maybe she would attach a little light over it like they did for priceless paintings.

  Now, it was time to visit her husband before she left the house. She could hardly wait to see his reaction.

  Bella tripped down the hall to her husband’s room. She didn’t bother to knock. She smiled as she always did when she cooed to her husband for the nurse’s benefit. “Mrs. Engles, Cook just baked some wonderful breakfast pastries and the coffee is freshly ground. I’ll stay with my husband while you have some breakfast. Take your time as I’m in no hurry. I just adore spending this time of day with my husband.”

  When the door closed behind the nurse, Bella started to pace the confines of her husband’s sickroom.

  Marcus Gunn watched his wife, his brow furrowed. He was startled when he heard her talking to herself. “What?” he mumbled, his speech slurred.

  “What? I’ll tell you what. It finally happened, my dear. I have to admit, it took a good many years, but this town has finally come to
its senses. Our house is finally going to be on the Christmas tour this year. The paperwork is on the way. They told me to watch the mail. How much more definite can that be? In addition to that good news, the Preservation Society has issued me a provisional license to work on the two houses in the shoe. In the shoe, Marcus! Did you hear what I just said? I’m going to build such grand houses. Those Lane women will have to remodel those derelicts they live in to keep up with what I’m going to build.”

  Marcus started to jabber, spittle dribbling down his chin. In frustration, he wiped at it with the sleeve of his shirt.

  “Oh for heavens sake, stop that jabbering. You can speak properly if you do it slowly. Yes, yes, you’ve told me a hundred times that those two houses were to go to Ben and Russell. Well, Russell is dead, and Ben doesn’t need a house. I want those houses. If you give me one ounce of trouble over this, Marcus, you will force me to tell this town a few things you would rather not have them know. Especially those twisted Lane sisters and your son, Ben. I hope you’re listening to me, darling. I’ve waited too long for this, and I won’t have you screwing things up.”

  “Russell…you had no right…”

  “Stop right there, Marcus. It’s over, it’s done with, and I don’t wish to discuss it. People are now living who might have died; others are living a better life because of what I did. Now, I have to go out to the shoe and talk to my contractor. By the way, I stopped by the library yesterday and got some new books for you. I left them on the hall table. I’ll have the nurse fetch them for you. Tell me, darling Marcus, that you understand everything I’ve said. Just nod. I can’t stand that jabbering you do. I think you do it just to get on my nerves. Nod, Marcus.” Marcus dutifully nodded.

  “What a good boy you are, Marcus,” she cooed. And then she smiled, a smile that sent a shiver down Marcus’s spine.