by Webb, Peggy
From: Janet
To: Joanna, Clemmie, Belinda, Bea, Catherine, Molly
Re: Listen Here
Back down and do it now! If I didn’t have hospital rounds tonight, I’d drive to Meadow Lane and tell you in person!
Janet
From: Catherine
To: Joanna, Clemmie, Belinda, Bea, Molly, Janet
Re: Impulsive
Oh, sweetie, you’re impulsive. Kirk knows that. Ditto what Janet said. Get yourself out of this mess before it goes too far. I know you want the same thing from marriage that I do – love and over-the-moon happiness and a glorious discovery of Virginia!
Cat
From: Molly
To: Joanna, Belinda, Catherine, Janet, Bea, Clemmie
Re: Wexford
Your plan might work as long as you don’t take it too far. What about that serious, older boy we both went to high school with? You know the one who got kept back a grade? Wexford Something or Other? He might be just the ticket to open Kirk’s eyes to the fact that you’re old enough to make your own decisions.
Molly
From: Belinda
To: Joanna, Catherine, Janet, Bea, Molly, Clemmie
Re: The Peabody
We’re still here and Reeve is treating me like a queen and if I don’t come home pregnant after this, I don’t know what else to do. We’ve extended our stay – heavenly! I’ll be home in a few days, floating! And then we’ll have a Dixie Virgin party!
Belinda
From: Bea
To: Joanna, Catherine, Janet, Molly, Belinda, Clemmie
Re: Heaven
Dang, Belinda! Your life sounds like a fairy tale! I’d be jealous if I didn’t love you so much and if I didn’t have my own little paradise down here! Joanna, this plan of yours sounds a little off-the-wall, even for you. Be careful it doesn’t turn into another chocolate cake disaster!
Bea
From: Clemmie
To: Joanna, Bea, Janet, Molly, Belinda, Catherine
Re: Disaster
Oh, Joanna, I worry about you! Drive over to Peppertown and we’ll sit in the gazebo with sweet tea and talk about things. I’d come over there, but Michael has come down with a virus or something, and I need to be here to pet him. You know how men are when they get sick. The biggest babies! Of course, I love every minute of pampering him, and I want to make sure this doesn’t turn into something serious. He works so hard, and men his age have died of heart attacks. I’d just die if anything happened to him!
Clemmie
P. S. If you really go through with your plan, I can send Harvey over. You know – my nice young boarder who plays the tuba.
From: Janet
To: Clemmie, Bea, Belinda, Joanna, Catherine, Molly
Re: Michael
Is he seeing a doctor? If not, I can recommend a great pulmonary specialist here in town.
Clemmie, I thought you and Michael were converting the boarding house back to a simple home.
Janet
From: Clemmie
To: Janet, Bea, Belinda, Joanna, Catherine, Molly
Re: Boarding House
Not until Harvey can find something else he can afford and not while Miss Josephine is alive. Bless her sweet heart! We’re all she has, and I can’t stand the thought of her going into a nursing home where they wouldn’t let her wear that dead corsage and prattle on about her dearly departed Junior Wade.
Clemmie
From: Joanna
To: Janet, Clemmie, Catherine, Molly, Bea, Belinda
Re: Onward
All right, I heard everybody LOUD AND CLEAR! Molly, Wexford is SUCH A GOOD IDEA! I’m going onward and upward with my plan, but I PROMISE to be careful!
Joanna
o0o
Joanna had left the den door wide open.
Kirk considered walking across the hallway to close it, then decided he’d leave it open so he could keep an eye on her. True to her word, she was in the den with a prospective bridegroom, Wexford McCullough, one of her former classmates. One of the least attractive ones, he noted with some satisfaction.
The sound of her happy laughter drifted across the hallway and into his study. He looked toward the den and saw her cross her legs, lifting her skirts so Wexford could get a good view. He felt an insane urge to go across the hall and punch the man in the face. He thought she winked, but he couldn’t be sure. With Joanna you could never be sure.
Kirk bent over his desk to work on the designs for a new sports chair, but not before he’d noticed Joanna’s legs. Poor hapless Wexford. He didn’t stand a chance. Kirk thought that it was a good thing he’d decided to work in his study tonight so he could keep an eye on her. There was no telling what she would do next.
With Joanna life was a surprise party, complete with bazookas and drums and confetti. Reluctantly he dragged his mind away from her, which lasted all of two seconds.
“In Spain I never bothered with convention. I just seized the moment.”
Her declaration was loud enough to be heard upstairs, if anybody had cared to listen.
He jerked his head up in time to see her seizing the moment by draping herself around Wexford and wallowing in his lap. He stood up so fast his chair nearly toppled over. He wasn’t about to sit back and see her marry a man who had failed second grade, even if Wexford had tried to redeem himself by growing up and taking Joanna to the senior prom.
Kirk was halfway across the room before his common sense reasserted itself. What was he going to do? Bounce the man out the door? Joanna was twenty-two. If she wanted to throw herself at some simpleton, that was her business. He couldn’t be her keeper forever. Let her go ahead and marry the idiot. He’d be around to pick up the pieces when it was all over.
Feeling rather self-righteous and noble, he started back to his desk. Then Joanna laughed again. The sound spurred him to action. His shoes clapped smartly against the polished wooden floors as he stalked across his study and marched across the hall. Sticking his head around the door, he inquired with elaborate politeness, “I’m going to have a glass of iced tea. Would anyone care to join me?”
Joanna unfolded herself from Wexford and gave him that bewitching smile she’d been practicing on him since she was three, the one that made him want to tuck her under his arm and protect her from the world.
“No, thank you, dahling. We’re not hot enough for tea.. .yet.”
He wanted to throttle her. Dahling, indeed. Not hot enough for tea... yet. He stomped to the kitchen, but not before he’d pinned Wexford to the sofa with a deadly glare that made him turn Joanna loose.
Kirk punished the kitchen cabinets, banging the doors so hard the crystal goblets rattled and threatened to topple off the shelves. He rummaged through the shelves, passing over his favorite iced-tea glass twice before he saw it, sitting in plain view on the front of the shelf.
“Hell of a place to put a glass,” he muttered as he snatched it and plopped it on the kitchen counter. Next he abused the refrigerator, jerking open the door so hard the tray of freshly formed cubes slid to the floor and dumped ice on his feet.
“Damned gadgets,” he muttered as he bent to clean up the mess. “I tried to tell her, but would she listen? No. She’s bound and determined to find herself a husband. Went out and picked the first fool she could find, that idiot who couldn’t even find his way out of the sand pile at her fourth birthday party.”
“Talking to yourself?”
He jerked his head up to see Joanna leaning against the doorway, looking as fresh and innocent as if she’d never tried to vamp poor Wexford out of his pants.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were busy courting that poor McCullough fool?”
His irritation was increased by the weather. It was so sultry outside even the night birds weren’t singing.
“I changed my mind about the tea.”
She skirted around the ice and got a goblet from the cabinet.
“What about McCullough?”
She stepped breez
ily through the ice and reached over him to the refrigerator. “I changed my mind about him, too.”
Kirk stood up and dumped the ice into the sink. Her news improved his temper considerably.
“If you’re looking for ice, I spilled it all on the floor. We’ll have to wait for the ice maker to kick out some more.”
“That’s okay. I’ll just pour myself some o.j.” She tipped the cold pewter pitcher and poured herself a generous glass of orange juice. Looking up at him, she smiled. “Want some?”
“Yes. I’ll have some.” Holding out his glass, he realized that he’d missed her. Meadow Lane was never the same when she was gone. Maybe it was that bright red hair, or the bouncy way she walked, or that voice, sometimes cheerful, sometimes throaty, and sometimes lifted in a fine rage. Whatever it was, he’d missed having her around.
“So? You changed your mind about McCullough? Decided not to get married after all?”
“Of course not. I’ve simply decided not to marry Wexford.”
He chuckled. “I must say, I applaud your good sense. He’s not the reliable type. Anybody who failed second grade is not reliable. You need somebody steady, somebody to keep you out of trouble.”
“I’m not concerned one whit about his reliability. It was his ears.”
“His ears?”
“Yes. They were too big. I discovered it right away.”
“When you were wallowing in his lap?”
“I was not wallowing. I was seducing.”
“Well, whatever you call it, it went a little too far for a first date.”
“If you hadn’t been skulking in the hallway, you never would have noticed.”
“I wasn’t skulking. I was being a polite host.”
“Hah!”
He chuckled. “Maybe I was skulking. But I wasn’t nearly as blatant as you that time you climbed the fig tree to spy on me and Mavalene Hunter.”
“I was only fourteen.”
“Yes, but you were sixteen when you put those frogs in June Hubbard’s bathtub.”
Joanna tipped back her head and roared with laughter. “I’ll never forget the look on her face. She came flying out of the guest room, screaming bloody murder. Whatever happened to poor old June?”
“You very well know what happened to June. She broke our engagement that same weekend. I think she went on to marry somebody safe, a shoe salesman.”
He watched in fascination as Joanna made one of her quick changes from laughter to seriousness.
“Why did Trixie leave you, Kirk?”
The question caught him off guard. The painful truth was that Trixie had divorced him because he was too old for her. He’d wanted nothing more than a contented wife, a house full of children, and the satisfaction of running Deerfield Manufacturing. Trixie had wanted more. No, had demanded more. First with cajolery, then later in a shrill voice and with temper tantrums. The more he’d tried to handle the situation, the worse it had gotten.
He had to admit that he’d failed miserably at his marriage, and he knew part of the fault was his. Trixie had often accused him of being too straitlaced and overbearing, and he suspected Joanna would agree.
“Because I’m boring,” he said.
“If she thought that, then she was a fool.” Joanna put her glass on the table and looked at him. “How long has it been since you played basketball, Kirk?”
“Not since you left for college.”
“I thought not. What you need, Kirk Maitland, is some fun in your life. Let’s play a quick game of PIG.”
“It’s getting late. Aren’t you ready for bed?”
“If you’re trying to convince me that you’re boring, you’re not succeeding. I take that as plain lazy.”
“And I take that as a challenge. You’re on, Joanna Deerfield.”
He was accustomed to a more sedate pace than Joanna set. He had to lengthen his stride to keep up with her. As they walked across the backyard, he noticed the smell of roses and jasmine and honeysuckle. He marveled at the brightness of the moon and the elegant beauty of the dark-shrouded trees. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken the time to admire the beauty of nature.
“I’ll get the ball.” As he ducked into the bathhouse and retrieved a basketball, he wondered how long it would be before some smart man took her offer and carried her to the altar. Then he wondered what he’d do if one did.
Kirk beat her soundly the first game.
“It’s this wretched skirt,” she said. She unbuttoned it and tossed it across an oleander bush. Her blouse was long enough to cover everything except the lace on the bottom of her satin tap panties. Kirk knew what they were called because he remembered the first pair she’d ever bought. She’d been thirteen and had proudly lifted them from the box to show him her grownup underwear.
But she was no longer thirteen, and the sight of her in blouse and satin panties had a most disturbing effect on him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He jerked the skirt off the bush and handed it back to her. “Put your clothes back on.”
“It’s not my clothes; it’s just my skirt.”
“I know what it is. Put it back on.”
“Good grief, Kirk. You needn’t act as if I’d stripped stark naked. This is a private court. Nobody can see me.”
“I can see you, Joanna. Put the thing on.”
She slung the skirt over her shoulder and glared at him. “If you think I’m going to put on this skirt because you order me to, you’re sadly mistaken. I spent four years mincing around that convent, wearing a prissy little white blouse and a blue cotton skirt just because somebody decreed I should, listening to Bach and Beethoven when I wanted to play old Beatles songs, going to museums when I wanted to go to nightclubs.”
“It was not a convent; it was a college.”
“It was a prison. One you forced me to attend.”
“You make me sound like a tyrant. I’m merely your guardian.”
“You’re a dictator, and I won’t be dictated to anymore. Wexford didn’t work out, but Clinton will.”
“Who the hell is Clinton?”
“A man I saw this afternoon at the Minute Mart.”
“You’re bringing home somebody you’ve just met? And at the Minute Mart?”
Joanna could never stay angry long, especially at Kirk.
“Did anybody ever tell you that you look like a lovable old bear when you scowl?” She patted his face. “Actually, I didn’t just meet him. He was on the Costa Brava two summers ago. We had some fun together.” She reached up once more and patted his cheek. “Don’t be an old grouch. You’ll like him. He has friendly eyes.”
“Clinton who? What does he do for a living?”
She waved her hand. “Oh, I think he’s in stocks and bonds or something boring like that. I forget his last name—it’s been such a long time since I’ve seen him. I couldn’t very well ask a man to marry me and say, ‘By the way, what’s your last name?’ I think it’s Goober or Goodbar or Gable. Something like that.”
“I feel six new gray hairs coming on.”
“On you they look good.” With her skirt still draped over her shoulder, she went toward the house, whistling a tune Kirk didn’t know. No doubt some bawdy song she’d learned on the Costa Brava.
He stood on the basketball court and watched until he saw the light come on in Joanna’s bedroom. She’d be safe now, in bed. At least he hoped she was going to bed. For all he knew she might be planning to slide down the cherry tree outside her window and go off to meet Goodbar or Goober or whatever the heck his name was.
“I was not cut out to be a chaperon,” he muttered.
o0o
Goober was just as bad as Kirk thought he’d be. Joanna had dragged him home and was parading him at the dinner table. Kirk figured she’d done it deliberately to ruin his digestion.
“What did you say your line of work is, Mr. Goober?”
“Gable.” The skinny, ill-at-ease man ran a bony finger around his collar. Stre
tching his neck like a peacock, he adjusted his Adam’s apple. “I’m a high-tech consultant. You know, work on microfiche and computers and that sort of thing.”
“I like rainbow trout better,” Joanna said. “They’re much more interesting.”
Kirk gave her a behave-yourself nudge under the table. She knew damned well the difference between microfiche and rainbow trout. What was she trying to do? Confuse the poor man so much he didn’t know the altar from the front door?
“She loves to tease,” Kirk said.
Poor Gable laughed. “I found that out on the Costa Brava. One night she wanted to dance and all the nightclubs were closed. She talked me into dancing right on the street.”
Kirk speared his steak as if it needed killing before he ate it. “Just how late was that?”
“Pay him no attention, Clinton. I told you he’d be an old bear. He’s not used to these modern ideas.”
That sounded ominous to Kirk. He knew better than to ask, but curiosity overcame his common sense. “What modern ideas, Joanna?”
She gave him a Madonna smile. “About matrimony.”
He glared at Joanna, but his voice was deceptively mild as he turned to Gable. “It’s been two years since you’ve seen her, hasn’t it?” He didn’t wait for confirmation. “You were probably surprised by her invitation to dinner.”
Gable looked like a fish that had just been hooked and was trying to make the most of it. “Her dinner invitation didn’t surprise me as much as the other one.”
Kirk shot Joanna another murderous look before turning his attention back to their guest. “What other one?”
“The one to, ah, marry her. She came right up to me in the Minute Mart and asked if I’d be interested in matrimony. Naturally I saw what a card she was.”
Kirk said a silent prayer of thanks that the man hadn’t taken Joanna seriously. His laugh of relief was genuine. “She’s a comic, all right.”
“I wasn’t kidding,” Joanna said. “I’m desperate to get married.”
