by Nancy Warren
When they were seated at the oak table, enjoying the soup and salad and crusty rolls, Gran said, "I hear Chip invited you to a party Saturday night."
"Who told you that?" Laura hadn't bothered telling Gran about the invitation because she had no intention of going. It looked as if she'd have to fake an illness, after all.
"Chip, of course. I ran into him in the supermarket. That young man is going places."
"He already has, Gran. He's made a gazillion dollars as a stockbroker. Now he runs his own investment firm."
Gran nodded in agreement, sipping her soup daintily. "He has a good grasp of strategy, but he's too flamboyant for my taste. I'll bet he's overexposed should a correction occur."
Laura groaned inside with embarrassment. "You didn't discuss orange juice futures with him, did you?"
Gran smiled at her, as though sensing her feelings. "Wouldn't you like to know. He did happen to mention he's single."
"For about the twelfth time." Laura crunched open a roll and spread it with butter.
"What are you going to wear to his barbecue?"
Laura glanced up into those shrewd eyes sparkling with kindness and knew she couldn't lie to her own grandmother. "I'm not going."
"Why not?"
"I'm tired. I've worked hard all week. Besides, I want to spend time with you."
"I'm flattered." But it wasn't gratitude Laura heard in the tart tone. "You forgot to mention Cory's back."
"That has nothing to do with it." Which sounded lame even to her own ears.
"I'll tell you what we're going to do Saturday. We're going shopping. We'll buy you a new dress, have some lunch out. We can spend the whole day together. Then you'll go to that party looking like a million bucks."
"But, Gran—"
"You've been going round town looking like a farm-hand in those dreadful overalls. It's time you got yourself all dressed up and showed Laroche what a beautiful woman my granddaughter is."
"Beauty is a state of mind," Laura answered primly.
"And there's nothing like a new dress to encourage the best state of mind." Gran's eyes twinkled.
Laura dreaded the very idea of facing her old school friends with Cory present. It brought back too many painful memories. But Gran was right, it was time she stopped running away from the past and faced her demons head-on. And after the way Cory had seen her earlier, she wanted to show her she really did know how to look good when the occasion required.
"Oh, all right."
*
"Mmm, heaven," Cory cooed. Her full lips caressed the oysters as she ate them.
Jack was having trouble swallowing his steak. Each piece seemed to stick in his throat. He wished Cory would just come out and say what was on her mind; he felt like he was boxing shadows.
Sara's face was flushed with excitement as she watched her mother in wonder, as though a magical princess had suddenly descended to grant her three wishes.
Cory chatted to her easily about work and some interview she'd had with a celebrity who was Sara's age. She asked her daughter about school and her friends, and Jack noticed how carefully Sara chose her words, obviously trying to impress her mother. It saddened him to see how little they knew about each other, this mother and daughter who looked so alike.
After dinner, Jack drove in the direction of the Seabreeze, still wondering when his ex-wife was going to drop her bombshell.
Cory touched his hand softly. "Jack, I'd love to come home with you for coffee." As though sensing he was about to refuse, she added, "Sara promised to show me her bedroom, didn't you, honey?"
Jack hadn't heard any such promise, and a quick glance in the rearview mirror showed Sara's perplexed look. "Oh, yeah. Sure," she said.
At the house, he put the coffee on while Cory and Sara went upstairs together. He was torn between wanting to let Sara spend as much time as possible with her mom and wanting to stop Cory from poisoning Sara's mind with fantasies of the grand life she could live in California.
By 9:00 p.m. he'd drunk three cups of coffee, which wasn't helping his nerves, and still Cory hadn't come down. Purposefully, he got to his feet and yelled from the bottom of the stairs, "Sara, honey. It's a school night. You can see your mom again tomorrow."
He strode back to the kitchen and poured a fourth cup of coffee. He didn't have long to wait. Soon Cory strolled in and poured herself a cup, helping herself to milk from the fridge. It gave him a peculiar sense of déjà vu.
She smiled at him as she sat down. "Seems like old times, doesn't it? Like the good times, I mean." She gave him her best smile. "It wasn't all bad."
Jack felt himself smile back. "No, it wasn't all bad."
She sipped, screwing up her face. "Your coffee was always bad."
He refused to bicker about coffee. "But you didn't come here to tell me that."
"No." Cory took a breath. She seemed to be searching for words.
Jack hardly breathed, waiting.
"Sara's such a great kid. I'm proud to be her mom," she said at last.
He nodded, while worry coiled tighter in his belly. He couldn't trust himself to say anything.
"Jack, I'm worried about Sara. She's getting to an age where she needs a woman in her life. Someone who can explain the changes she'll be going through—"
With a cry of triumph he rose from his chair and jogged into his office, where he dug out from behind a stack of woodworking magazines his reference book for the adolescent girl.
"I'm way ahead of you," he announced, returning to the kitchen and handing the heavy book to Cory.
"Now You Are a Woman…" She read the title aloud and flipped the book open. After skimming a few pages, she raised her eyes, and he saw a disturbing twinkle in them. She began flipping pages more slowly, stopping to scan the odd paragraph. "How much of this book have you read, Jack?" she asked in a strangled voice.
"I haven't had a chance to get through the whole thing yet. But I'm ready if Sara has any questions."
Cory handed him the book. "Okay, I'm Sara. I just got my first period. I don't understand what's happening to my body. Explain."
Jack feigned indifference. "Sure, no problem." He opened the book, scanned the table of contents. "Let's see, ah, 'onset of menses,' page 489. Here we go."
He cleared his throat, skimmed down to where the important stuff seemed to start, and began reading. "There are four phases to the menstrual cycle. Postmenstrual, intermenstrual, premenstrual and menstrual." He tried not to squirm on the kitchen chair. "When the pituitary gland excretes follicle stimulating hormone…" He plunged doggedly on through litanies of hormones, complex glandular workings and the mechanics of a woman's anatomy.
The diagrams were the worst. It was more embarrassing than watching those awful light days and heavy days commercials on TV. He petered to a stop.
"Well, that should answer all her questions."
"Okay, okay, stop laughing. So I'll get another book," he grumbled.
"Jack, it's not a book you need. It's a wife, a mother for Sara."
A horrible suspicion was forming in Jack's mind. She couldn't be thinking… Surely she didn't want to get back together with him? But then, why drag them to the same inn where they'd spent their honeymoon? Why keep on about all this family stuff?
"I did this interview, the one I was telling Sara about, with this child actress," Cory was saying. "Her mother's a busy actress, too, and they hardly ever see each other. The girl was so confused, so lost."
Cory pulled a piece of hair loose from her chignon and began twirling it round her finger. "The kid's dad looks after her career … but she doesn't have a woman to turn to…" Cory's voice started to waver. "I don't want Sara to be like that."
Jack didn't think anything could be worse than losing Sara. But getting Cory back would be a very close second in the disaster department.
They'd already failed once to be a family, when they still felt passion for each other. Now he no longer felt anything for Cory except a vague irritation for the
way she'd up and left him and Sara to pursue her career. As much as he loved Sara, he'd find another way to make sure she had a decent family life. He had to nip Cory's idea in the bud. And fast.
He started gently. "I know you're feeling bad now. But it could never work with us…"
Cory's eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"
"You moving back here to be Sara's mom. What are you talking about?"
"Oh, no, Jack." She reached out a pale, green-tipped hand and touched his arm. "I mean, you're a terrific guy, but I'm talking about finding you a new wife. Someone who can be there for Sara."
He blinked, wondering if too much coffee was doing something to his brain. "A new wife?"
"I'm thirty, Jack. I've got a great career, everything I always wanted. I'm even getting married again – to a producer with grown children. He doesn't want more kids and neither do I. But I need to know that Sara's happy. I'm looking for a stand-in for me."
"A stand-in? You mean like on TV?"
She fiddled with her hair some more, an old nervous gesture. "I let you both down, I know that. I hoped you'd find someone else by now."
He just stared at her.
"I don't want to be rude, Jack, but you're going to have to lower your sights a little. I figure I can make it up to you by helping you find someone else. I'm a trained journalist, after all. I know how to ask the right questions, work with body language and other signals to get at the real answers from people. We're going to put together a criteria sheet for your new wife and Sara's mother. Her stand-in mother, I mean."
Jack felt a burning pain in his lap and jumped. His coffee cup was hanging askew in nerveless hands. "You want to find me a wife?"
"Well," Cory said consideringly, "you don't have to marry her. At least, not right away. Let's just say a companion, a close friend. Now, I know the pickings are pretty slim on an island this size, but we'll start here, and move outward from our target center as we have to. Chip's party Saturday night is perfect timing. Most of the single women will be there. It's a wonderful place to start."
The shock was wearing off, and along with the relief of finding out he wasn't in danger of losing Sara, Jack was beginning to see the humor in the situation. His ex-wife wanted to find him a new wife. Oh, boy.
* * *
Chapter 6
«^»
"Gran, it's too short." Laura bent forward before the triple mirror, and three Lauras tugged the figure-hugging red dress in the direction of her knees, which were a long way down. As she bent, her cleavage bulged over the square neckline and six hands yanked up on the bodice, only to bring the dress back up her thighs again.
"Stand still," Gran ordered. "Now turn around."
Laura did, feeling self-conscious, and yet secretly thrilled at the way the dress did things to her figure.
"You look lovely, dear," Gran announced. "We'll take it," she told the shop clerk.
"But Gran, did you see the sticker price?" Laura hissed.
"Yes. It's my treat to you for coming back and doing the McNair job."
"But … can you afford this?"
"Don't worry, I won't have to eat cat food until after you've gone."
Once Laura held the elegant bag containing her tissue-wrapped dress, she started looking forward to the party. She was also happy the shopping trip was over. "I'm exhausted. I can't wait to get home."
"Lunch will revive you, then we'll do the hair and makeup." At eighty-two, her grandmother had more stamina for shopping then most women half her age.
"But… " Laura spread her fingers in a helpless gesture.
Gran grabbed her hands, staring at the paint-flecked knuckles and chipped nails. She clicked her tongue. "And a manicure."
*
"Okay, here are my questions. What do you think?" Cory asked.
Jack took the piece of Seabreeze stationary reluctantly and leaned back in the same kitchen chair he'd sat in the night before, when Cory had first told him her ridiculous plan. On the page were ten neatly penned questions that she planned to ask some of the women at Chip's party. A second sheet was headed "Candidates."
"I'll go to the bathroom between interviews and take notes, then transfer it all to my laptop when I get back to the hotel. We can go over our results tomorrow."
"How are you going to decide which women to interview?"
"Well, you can point out the ones you like, of course, and I'll fill in with a few candidates you might have missed. Remember, we're mostly looking for someone who'd be a good mother. You might get sidetracked by other attributes."
He read the questions, felt his eyes bug out, and read them again. "I can see you asking whether they like kids, but why do you have to ask these women about sex?"
"Now, Jack, don't be coy. We used to be married, remember? You had quite a sex drive." She gave a satisfied little smile. "That was one part of our marriage that—"
"Yeah, well, getting back to the list, you can't ask a woman you've never met how often she likes to have sex. She'll think you're coming on to her."
"Jack, relax, I'm a professional. I can find these things out in subtle ways."
He was torn between horror and unholy glee. He had a feeling this was going to be a barbecue to remember. He scanned the list of questions again. "Religion, politics, financial position. You're just going to find out all about them, aren't you?"
"And if you have any questions of your own, Jack, go ahead and add them."
"No, no, I think you've got it covered. Ah, just curious. When you've found the right woman, do I get veto power?"
She trilled that trained laugh again. "Of course you do. More important, so does Sara. I'm not trying to choose your mate for you, Jack. I just want to prove to you that there are nice women out there who could make you happy. You'll have to get over me and move on."
He should put a stop to this. If he were a better man, he would. But on the other hand, if his ex-wife wanted to make a complete fool of herself, there was no law that said he had to prevent her.
He wanted to rush over to Gran's and tell Laura. She would find the whole thing as funny as he did. He pictured the way she laughed, with her head thrown back, teeth gleaming. Her laugh was natural, the kind of laugh that made you join in. Nobody had taught her how to do that.
Now, Laura was a nice woman who could make him happy. He should tell Cory to make sure her name was on the list. He would love to hear that interview.
Cory was frowning at the pages now spread on the table. "I wish I had a teleprompter for tonight," she said. "I don't want to forget any of the questions."
"Or the answers."
"Oh, I've got a tape recorder for that," she said brightly, pulling out a tiny stainless steel unit. "Small but powerful. It'll get their answers, no problem."
"Well, why don't you write the questions on cardboard and I'll make a flip chart. I'll stand behind the woman's head while you interview her, and every time you nod, I'll flip to the next card."
"Very funny, Jack."
"You could write the questions on your arm, like you used to before exams in school," he suggested softly.
Her color rose but she refused to take his bait. "I'll figure something out," she said primly, heading for her rental car.
"Want me to pick you up tonight?"
"Better not. We don't want anyone to get the impression you're not single. See you at Chip's." With a wave, she was gone.
He phoned Gran McMurtry. Since Sara insisted she was too old for a baby-sitter, he usually drove her to the older woman's house if he was going out for an evening. Sara always thought she was doing a good deed. Of course, Gran had her "lonely old widow" routine down pat. As soon as the evening was arranged, Jack asked to speak to Laura.
"Yes?" The tone of her voice could have put ice chips on the equator.
"Laura? It's me, Jack."
"I know."
"I just wondered whether you need a ride to Chip's tonight. It can be tricky to find."
"Thanks." The voice
thawed slightly. "But he's given me directions. See you tonight."
"Wait, I—" But she'd clicked off before he had a chance to tell her about Cory's insane ideas for the evening.
He figured he'd get another chance to see Laura when he dropped Sara off, but Gran informed him she'd already left, so he drove off by himself, full of anticipation. He was looking forward to this evening, looking forward to seeing Laura, telling her about Cory's craziness and the wonderful news that Sara was his for keeps.
Ever since they'd started having their coffee breaks together, he'd felt like he was getting his friend back. Maybe more than a friend. That kiss at the beach the other night had him thinking thoughts about Laura that were definitely warmer than friendly. She hadn't pushed him away, had even seemed to welcome the kiss. He planned to ask her out, on a real date. He'd take her somewhere classy for dinner, woo her. He just wished she hadn't rushed off to the party before he had a chance to talk to her privately.
Oh, well, he reasoned as he drove up the winding coast road, he'd haul her off for a few private minutes as soon as he got to the barbecue.
He turned into a gravel drive and immediately heard the sounds of a party in full swing. Chip's "little summer place" could have housed a family of fourteen with room left over. Clinging precariously to a bluff, it was all windows and cedar and jutting angles. The architects had designed the place to blend in with its surroundings, but in Jack's opinion it was an insult to the natural beauty it was supposed to enhance. And Jack knew the house better than most; he'd built it.
He pulled over and parked at the end of a string of cars at the edge of the driveway. Through the windows he saw the movement and color of the well-dressed crowd. As usual, Chip had managed to jam the massive house with his eclectic collection of friends and acquaintances.
Jack suffered a pang of regret. He hadn't thought to warn Laura that Chip's idea of a casual barbecue would put Martha Stewart to shame. Jack had only seen her in jeans and overalls, so had no idea if she'd brought anything else with her. Oh, well, too late now. He'd make a point of spending time with her and introducing her to everyone he knew. She used to be shy with strangers, he remembered, as he eased out of his truck and headed for the door.
