"I've got a lot to do," he replied, not meeting her gaze. "And Rosa doesn't mind stopping by, she told me so."
"I feel funny having her come over here to make an elaborate meal just for me."
"She wants to check up on you. Don't you know that?" Tay said. "She cares about you."
He didn't add, "I can't imagine why," but Sharon thought she heard it in his tone. She was sitting on the couch, depressed and staring into space, when Rosa arrived.
"You look about as happy as Tay did when I passed him on the way in," Rosa greeted her. "You two been torturing each other again?"
"He gave me his reaction to Morse's visit."
"Morse?"
"The guy from Citrus Farms."
"I see." Rosa put her bag of groceries on a chair.
"We were discussing some economic realities. Or rather, I was discussing them and Tay was arguing with me."
"You know my feelings on that subject," Rosa said briefly, folding her arms.
"I also accepted an invitation to a party at George Jensen's house Saturday night."
"I assume you're going by yourself. Tay can't be dragged to one of those things at gunpoint.''
"With Tay."
Rosa's mouth fell open.
"Black tie."
Rosa started to laugh. "This I've got to see. It took his own wedding to get him into a suit, I can't wait for the tux."
"Yeah, well, I don't have anything to wear, either. I wasn't expecting to attend any formal parties. I brought that one beige dress and a suit, the rest of my stuff is shorts and slacks."
"You can wear the beige one again," Rosa said.
Sharon didn't reply.
"Of course, Tay has already seen it," Rosa added airily.
Sharon shot her a look. "I wish you would stop trying to turn this arrangement into something it's not," she said sternly.
"We'll see," Rosa said and drifted out of the room.
Sharon stared at the carpet for several seconds, thinking, and then followed her into the kitchen.
* * * *
Sharon went shopping for a dress the next day. She took her father's car, which technically belonged to the estate. Both she and Tay used it when his truck was unsuitable. For Sharon, this was all of the time. The Glendora shop she had patronized during her last visit was still there and still run by the same woman, who was happy to cater to an old customer. Sharon found a black satin cocktail dress with spaghetti straps studded with rhinestones, a fitted bodice and a bell skirt. At first she thought it was too much, both too dramatic and too expensive, but she allowed herself to be talked into it. She wanted to make an impression on Tay and this was just the dress to do it.
She tried it on for Rosa when she got home. For the first time in Sharon's memory, that estimable lady had nothing to say.
"Don't you like it?" Sharon asked.
“Did it have any warnings about flammable material on the label?'' Rosa asked dryly.
"Don't be silly. I got it on sale."
"I hope so. I can only imagine what it cost at full price."
"It's something, isn't it?" Sharon said, turning for inspection.
"It's something, all right."
"Should I wear my grandmother's necklace with it?" Sharon asked.
"Nina, I think that lily needs no gilding. The only thing you should wear with that is a flak suit."
"You don't think it's flattering," Sharon said, disappointed.
"Oh, of course it is. It's just that I don't think you have to do this to get his attention."
“Whose attention?'' Sharon asked innocently.
"He already watches every move you make," Rosa said.
"Don't be ridiculous," Sharon replied, dropping the pretense. "He's never here. Since I arrived he treats this house like a hotel. He comes and goes like a boarder."
“He's doing that deliberately."
"I didn't think it was an accident."
"He's afraid to be around you too much, don't you see that?"
Sharon turned for the other woman to unzip the dress. "Rosa, you're an incurable romantic, and I wish you were right but you're not." She stepped out of the dress and hung it on the hanger. "I'll take this back and get something else."
"Don't do that. I didn't say you shouldn't wear it." She grinned mischievously. "You might stir something up, at that."
The outside door slammed and they heard Tay moving in the kitchen. Sharon grabbed the hanger and the dress box and scurried down the hall.
* * * *
On Saturday night Sharon stayed in her room until the last minute. Her palms were clammy and her heart was in her mouth. She felt as though she were going on her first date and told herself to grow up.
She examined herself in the mirror for the tenth time. She had put her hair up and taken Rosa's advice: her only jewelry was a pair of pearl-and-diamond studs her mother had given her when she graduated from college. She had accented the short hem of the dress with dark hose and a pair of plain black high-heeled pumps. Her makeup was understated and her nails were done. There was no doubt about it, she was ready.
When her wristwatch told her she could delay no longer, she stepped into the hall and went to look for Tay. Rosa was packing some leftovers to take home and glanced up at her approach.
"Madre de Dios," she said.
"Nope, just me," Sharon said. "Where is he?"
Rosa nodded toward the rear of the house.
Sharon found Tay outside on the patio, his hands in his pockets, looking up at the stars. The floodlights were on and they bathed him in a yellow radiance like moonglow. He turned at her step and stared at her. He didn't say a word, but his expression told her everything she needed to know.
The dress was a success.
He was wearing a black tuxedo with a boiled shirt and a black satin tie. The dark tailored clothes made him appear slimmer than he actually was, and his black hair shone like sable.
"You are the most beautiful man," Sharon whispered. She didn't even try to stop the words; she had to say them.
He looked away. "Men aren't beautiful," he said huskily.
"You are. I always thought so." She moved closer until she was standing in front of him and reached up to touch his hair.
"So soft," she said. "I remembered how it felt all this time."
He closed his eyes.
Rosa opened the back door and said, "I called Miguel and he said he left the car..."
Sharon's hand fell away and the magic moment passed.
"At the main gate," Rosa finished weakly, aware that she had interrupted something.
"I'll get it," Tay said and walked around the corner of the house.
"I'm sorry,'' Rosa said to Sharon.
"Don't worry about it," Sharon said wearily. "Timing has always been a problem for Tay and me."
"Good luck tonight," Rosa added.
"Thanks."
They went back into the house, and when Tay pulled up to the front door Sharon got into the car without a word.
George Jensen lived only three miles away, in a stucco hacienda surrounded by four acres of fruit and flowering trees. He had his own horses, and two of them raised their heads inquiringly as the car drove past the corral. Three dogs—two spaniels and a black Labrador—raced madly around the front yard as a valet hired for the occasion appeared to take the keys from Tay.
Tay and Sharon walked past a splashing fountain in the center of a circular driveway paved with crushed white stones, and up a wide front staircase flanked by reclining lions.
"It looks like the New York Public Library," Sharon whispered.
"Vets do very well in horse country," Tay replied, smiling slightly.
The house was ablaze with light. The carved double doors were opened by a uniformed maid who showed them into a two-story entry hall inlaid with ceramic tiles in a Toltec design. Scattered rugs picked up the black-and-white accents from the floor and walls, and a gleaming brass chandelier suspended from a medallion in the ceiling dominated the
visual space. Two huge aquariums filled with exotic tropical fish hummed and bubbled on either side of them, and a mynah bird screamed in a glass cage.
"I can understand why George became a vet," Sharon said.
"You haven't seen the monkeys yet," Tay replied, glancing at her.
"Monkeys?" Sharon said, looking around nervously.
"They're in a separate building out back. He also has several cats and a couple of ferrets."
"Ferrets? You mean like rats?"
"No, these are domesticated little furry things that crawl all over George. They wind themselves around his neck and take naps in his pockets."
"I hope they're also in the building out back," Sharon said fervently.
They entered a large dining room where they were greeted by their hostess, a youthful looking woman in her forties, who obviously had a high tolerance for lower forms of life. An elaborate buffet was laid out on the dining table of Spanish cedar, and Tay had just gone to get drinks from a bar set up in the adjoining living room when Sharon felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Who are you?" a man's voice said.
Sharon turned to see an attractive blond in his thirties smiling down at her.
"Hello," he said. "I've never seen you before, I certainly would have remembered."
"No, we've never met," Sharon replied.
"Let me remedy that immediately. I'm Jim Sanders, George's accountant."
Sharon shook his hand, saying, "Sharon Phil... Braddock. How do you do?"
"Braddock? Any relation to Tay Braddock?"
"His wife," Sharon said, thinking here it comes.
"His wife! When the hell did he get married?"
“About ten days ago.''
"That so-and-so, he never said a word to anybody. He goes around here for years like he's in love with those horses of his, and all of a sudden he turns up with you. How do you like that?"
Sharon smiled inanely, trying to think of a way to make a graceful exit.
Sanders was still gripping her shoulder. She was moving backward to elude his grasp as he said, "I love that dress."
"Take your hand off her or you'll be wearing it," Tay's voice said behind them.
Sharon closed her eyes. Please, she prayed silently, please let him behave.
"Sure thing, pal," Sanders said frostily, glancing at Sharon as if to ask Who's your crazy friend? He turned and melted into the crowd.
"Was that absolutely necessary?" Sharon said to Tay through clenched teeth.
"He was mauling you," Tay replied, handing her a glass of champagne.
"I was handling it."
"Didn't look like it," he observed, his gaze penetrating.
"Are you suggesting that I was enjoying his attentions?" Sharon demanded, her temperature rising.
"Why not? You're not committed to our arrangement, as you constantly find ways of reminding me. Why don't you go after him? Maybe you can meet him later and have a great time."
Sharon walked away, too angry to reply. She was munching a canape, silently fuming, when a woman in a blue dress with a deep décolletage walked up to her and said, "So you're Tay's wife."
Here we go again, Sharon thought. She definitely should have stayed home.
"That's right," Sharon said politely.
"I never expected him to get married," the blue lady said, sipping ruby claret from a delicate glass.
"Is that right?"
"Yeah. He always seemed like a free spirit to me. But then, some guys get married and still don't change, you know?"
Thank you so much for that piece of wisdom, Sharon thought. "Excuse me," she said aloud and fled.
Sharon didn't see a person she recognized, not even George. Apparently all the old friends of her father were arriving late or in the powder room. She stood next to a fieldstone fireplace in the living room, feeling like a wallflower, until a woman in her thirties with frosted blond hair came up to her and said, "Mrs. Braddock?"
"Yes?"
"I'm Claire Bryant. I used to date Tay a couple of years ago when I was a sales representative for Dover Dry Goods. He was one of my best accounts."
I'll bet, Sharon thought.
"How do you do?" Claire said.
Sharon shook hands with her. This isn't a party, she thought despairingly, this is a convention of Tay's old girlfriends. Apparently there wasn't anyone in the state of California he had missed. Was this why he wanted her to come tonight, because he knew that these people would be on hand to torment her?
"That's quite a man you caught there," Claire said, smiling. "I was madly in love with him, I'm sure you are, too."
Sharon smiled back but didn't reply.
"I never thought he would get married," Claire said.
Join the club, Sharon thought. “I guess the time comes for most people," Sharon replied, appalled at her own banality.
"Will you be living on the ranch?" Claire asked.
"Yes."
"That must be quite an adjustment for you. I heard you're from the East."
Word was certainly getting around fast. "Not really. The place was my father's, I spent time out here years ago. My dad left it to Tay and me."
She saw the information register with Claire and knew that she was thinking, so that's why Tay married her.
"I see," Claire said, satisfied that she had solved the mystery. "Well, I see my date over there, it was nice meeting you."
Sharon nodded miserably and watched the other woman walk away. She was seriously considering going out to sit by herself in the car when George Jensen popped out of the crowd at her elbow and said, "Look who I found."
Tay was with him, wearing his "I'm going along with this but I'm not happy about it" face.
"Thanks so much for coming," George said, kissing her cheek. "Is the ankle okay?"
"Good enough to wear heels," Sharon replied.
"I'm so glad." George reached past her and removed a small brass gong from the mantelpiece at her back. As she watched he began to strike it, making a sound sizable enough to attract the attention of the gathering. She waited, thinking that he was going to announce dinner. But when his guests quieted George said, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a pair of newlyweds in our midst. I'd like you to join me in congratulating Mr. and Mrs. Taylor Braddock, who just tied the knot last week."
Everyone applauded and Sharon shot a quick glance at Tay, who looked as horrified as she felt.
Someone began to tap a glass with a spoon, and soon the crowd followed suit, making a chiming noise that set Sharon's nerves on edge.
"I think it's time you kissed the bride, Tay," George said, beaming.
Sharon knew he was a decent man who meant well, but at that moment she felt like kicking him.
The group picked up the refrain, and Sharon saw that they were not going to get out of it. Tay moved to her side and put his arm around her, kissing her lightly on the mouth.
Boos and catcalls followed.
"Is that the best you can do?" Jim Sanders yelled, getting some of his own back.
"You're slipping, Braddock," somebody else caroled, laughing.
"Let me at her, I'll show you how it's done," a third man shouted.
Sharon could see Tay's expression change, and she knew he had decided to give the audience what it wanted.
He turned to her and embraced her, bending his head to hers swiftly. He took her mouth with his, gently at first, and then with increasing intensity, pulling her against him fully and slipping his tongue between her lips. She felt the muscles of his thighs tighten against her legs and his hands move caressingly across her back.
Sharon couldn't restrain herself from cooperating. This might be her only chance to kiss him, and she forgot their cheering section and everything else in the pleasure of the moment. She sank her fingers into his hair and stood on tiptoe, letting him take her weight.
The approval of the onlookers was enthusiastic and vocal. The whistling and clapping escalated to such a point that it finally intruded on their daydream,
and Sharon drew back, her mouth wet and her breath coming in short gasps.
Tay, who was also breathing harshly, looked down at her, his expression more vulnerable than she had seen it since she came back to California. Then he bowed to his admirers and turned away, downing half a glass of wine in one swallow.
Sharon leaned against the mantelpiece, trembling, and was relieved when George clapped Tay on the back and laughingly started to tell him a story. She waited until she was steady enough to walk before she started toward the door.
A decade had been erased in an instant. During that kiss the sense memory of being with Tay in the bunkhouse came back with such power that she was lost in it.
Sharon plowed through the crowd, nodding and smiling automatically when people congratulated her or commented on Tay's performance. She didn't hear a thing they said. She finally found herself in the kitchen and bypassed the staff working there, ending up in a sort of pantry where the tableware was stored. She closed the door behind her and sat on the stepladder under the china cabinet, wondering how long she would be able to remain there before she was discovered.
I'm as much in love with him as ever, she thought. It was depressing to admit that nothing had changed in all the time they'd been apart, but lying to herself wasn't going to help.
She was sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees when the door opened suddenly and Mrs. Jensen walked into the room. She stopped short when she saw Sharon.
"My dear, what are you doing in here?" she asked, startled.
"I, uh..." Sharon said.
“Aren't you feeling well?''
"I guess not," Sharon said, seizing upon the excuse. "I didn't want to make a fuss, and I just needed to be alone for a few moments."
Mrs. Jensen picked up the silver set she'd come to get and handed it through the door to one of the caterers. "Well, you must come upstairs and lie down in the guest room."
"Oh, don't go to any trouble.,.." Sharon began, feeling trapped by her lie.
"Nonsense. I'll show you to the room and bring you a cup of tea. Then I'll go and find that handsome husband of yours."
"No," Sharon said quickly. Too quickly. Mrs. Jensen stared at her.
"I mean," Sharon amended, "I want him to have a good time. He so rarely gets away from the ranch."
"But he'll be concerned about your absence, won't he?"
A Marriage of Convenience Page 11
