by Webb, Peggy
“That’s no problem. Anything else?”
“No. That’s all.” Joanna walked to the broom closet and brought out the broom.
“I’ve already done the cleaning.”
Joanna grinned. “I’m not going to do the cleaning; I’m getting ready for the dinner party.” She patted Rose’s cheek. “Don’t look so concerned. Everything is going to be perfectly legal.”
“When you’re around I’m never sure.” Rose put the finishing touches on her coconut cake. “Is this guest somebody special?”
“I think so.”
“Do you need me to stay and serve?”
“No. This guest is self-sufficient. She requires no help at all.”
Rose lifted her eyebrows but made no comment. Curiosity was not one of her vices.
Joanna spent the next hour preparing for the intimate dinner. By the time Rose had gone, everything was in place except the guest of honor. Joanna took care of that small detail just as she heard Kirk’s car coming up the driveway.
She met him at the door, smiling.
“Did you have a good day at work?”
“Yes. And how was your lunch with Alfred?”
“Perfectly wonderful.”
Her good cheer made Kirk suspicious. She’d looked decidedly rebellious when he’d checked on them in the cafeteria. He had expected fireworks from Joanna when he got home.
Taking her elbow, he led her into his study. He wanted to ask her about that snatch of conversation he’d overheard, the part about Joanna inviting Alfred up to her bedroom, but he decided to let well enough alone. She was in a good mood, and the lunch date had worked out according to plan—his plan.
“Let me take your briefcase. You must be tired. Why don’t you sit over here and put your feet up?” Joanna looked as if she’d been tapped for sainthood as she pampered and petted him.
Kirk was tired, he realized. He hadn’t slept well lately. Since Joanna had come home, to be exact. And the business was unusually demanding. He didn’t know what her game was, but he allowed himself to go along with it. With his feet propped on a stool, he watched Joanna sit down in the wing chair opposite him. She looked soft and demure, a pose if he ever saw one.
“That dress is lovely, Joanna. It makes you look angelic.”
“Thank you. I suppose artists have perpetuated the myth that angels wear white.”
He smiled. “Is it a fallacy?”
“Definitely.”
“How would you paint an angel?”
“Some in white. The truly angelic ones. But the hellions I’d paint in red and purple.”
His smile became broader. “There are angels who are hellions?”
“I think so. Life anywhere would be dull and boring if everybody were exactly alike. I think there must be angels who are mischievous and some who are pranksters and even some who are naughty.”
Her smile was so wicked he knew she was up to something. But she was so charming he didn’t care. As a matter of fact, he felt exhilarated.
“Being a mere earthbound mortal, I wouldn’t know about the heavenly citizens. How did you arrive at those conclusions, Joanna?”
“On occasion, I consort with angels.”
He studied her face a moment before answering. “On occasion, I do, too.” He loved the pink flush that came into her cheeks.
“Then you’re going to love our dinner guest.”
“Alfred?”
“Alfred is no angel.”
“Where you’re concerned, he’d better be.”
“Don’t roar. You’re going to excite Celestine.”
“Who’s Celestine?”
“Our guest. She’s not easily aroused, but your shouting is enough to excite a stick of wood.”
“Where is this mysterious guest?”
“In the dining room.”
“You’ve left a guest sitting in the dining room by herself? That’s not like you, Joanna.”
“She’s shy.”
“Let’s join her and put her at ease. She’s probably terrified by now.” Kirk stood and reached for Joanna’s hand.
“There’s something I have to tell you first. About Celestine.”
“You might start by telling me where you met her.”
“At Wal-Mart. She has a terrible crush on you. So I invited her over for dinner. I won’t be eating with you.”
“You’re playing matchmaker?”
“Yes.”
“Joanna, I’m perfectly capable of finding my own dinner dates.”
“So am I.”
She said the words with quiet dignity. Kirk silently applauded her. “You’re referring to the lunch with Alfred, of course.”
“I am.”
“We’ll discuss this after dinner. If you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to keep my guest waiting any longer.”
He left his study and walked quickly to the dining room. When he pushed open the door, he saw the crystal and silver gleaming in the dim light of the candelabra. His guest sat at the far end of the table. He couldn’t make out her features from the doorway, but the small glimpse he had confirmed his worst fears. Celestine was the ugliest woman he’d ever seen.
“Hello. I’m Kirk Maitland.”
She didn’t say a word. Kirk resigned himself to an evening of laborious one-sided conversation. Closing the door, he entered the room.
“Joanna tells me she met you at Wal-Mart. I’m…” He stopped in midsentence. His eyes had adjusted to the candlelight and he was close enough to get a good look at his dinner guest. Celestine was a broomstick. Literally. Joanna had made a papier-mâché face, put a wig on the straw end of the broom and dressed it up in a pink shirt, stuffed to look like a body. Kirk walked closer and examined Celestine. She was even wearing slacks and shoes. Her well-endowed figure was stuffed with cotton batting.
Stifling his laughter, Kirk sat down at the table. “As I was saying before I saw your stunning face, I’m happy you could come. Women of your sort always attract me. So compliant and willing. So obedient.” He helped himself to the veal. “You don’t talk much, do you? I like that in a woman. The quiet kind. Gives a man time to think. Have some carrots. Nobody prepares them quite like Rose.”
He carried on the one-way conversation in a very loud voice, for he was absolutely certain Joanna was lurking close by to find out his reaction. She’d probably expected him to come barging from the dining room like a wounded bull. Then she probably expected they’d come back into the dining room and have a long discussion over a hot meal. He chuckled. The whole thing was amusing to him. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t had this much fun in years.
He lingered over the meal, sipping the wine slowly while loudly extolling its merits to Celestine.
Outside in the hallway, Joanna was getting hungry. She’d followed discreetly behind Kirk to get his reaction. And it had been totally unexpected. She’d expected a roar of anger. Or a roar of laughter. But he’d done neither. As a matter of fact, he was sitting in there having dinner with that broomstick while she sat out in the hall and starved. Nobody played these games by the rules.
“I do enjoy a woman who can hold her wine,” she heard Kirk say. “Women do the darndest things when they drink too much. The other night Joanna...” Kirk’s voice faded so that she couldn’t hear a thing he said. She pressed her ear to the door, then she suddenly felt foolish. Of course, he knew she was out there. He was leading her on.
Two could play that game. She tiptoed down the hallway and into the kitchen. With visions of veal cutlets and baby carrots dancing in her head, she made a pimento-and-cheese sandwich and poured a glass of milk. She’d sit in the kitchen and wait him out. He’d soon tire of the game. She’d give him ten more minutes, fifteen at the most, then he’d be out of there, clutching Celestine by the throat and calling for an explanation.
Joanna was wrong. She sat in the kitchen an hour, trying to stretch her meager sandwich to fill the time. There was not a sound from the rest of the house. Finally she could no longer stand the
suspense. She marched to the dining room to confront Kirk.
He was gone. And so was Celestine.
“What in the world is that man up to?” Joanna stood in the candlelit room for a moment, trying to decide her next move. Kirk was probably holed up in his study, working like mad, the incident of Celestine already forgotten. That explained his absence, but what had he done with poor Celestine?
Joanna walked to his study and found it empty. Curiosity consumed her. She stepped back into the hallway.
“Kirk?”
“In here, Joanna,” he called from the den.
She pushed open the door, and there he was, sitting on the sofa, sipping a glass of wine and reading the Wall Street Journal. Celestine was draped artfully by his side.
“What took you so long?”
“I didn’t want to interrupt a blossoming romance.”
“Please feel free. These quiet types get boring after a while. She’s not even interested in the Wall Street Journal.”
Joanna picked up her broomstick woman. “Poor Celestine. You’re hurt her feelings.”
“I’m sure she’ll recover. I’m not so sure about myself. I almost had a heart attack when I saw her. Seldom have I had dinner with an uglier woman.”
Smiling demurely, Joanna propped Celestine on a chair and sat down beside Kirk. “I aim to please.”
Kirk chuckled. “I do believe I’m looking at one of those mischievous angels we discussed before dinner.”
“Perhaps even one of the hellions.”
“It could be.” Cupping her chin with one hand, he gazed thoughtfully at her. “I understand why you brought Celestine to dinner, Joanna.”
“You do?”
“Yes. It was a very clever revenge. One I richly deserved, I might add.”
“You’re not angry?”
“On the contrary. I enjoyed the evening immensely. I don’t know when I’ve had so much to laugh about.”
Joanna turned and spoke to the broomstick dummy. “Celestine, did you hear that? You’re a hit.”
“So are you, Joanna.” Kirk kept his hold on her face. “I owe you an apology.” He loved the way her dark eyes lit in the center when she smiled. “I had no right to arrange that lunch date for you. You’re a beautiful young woman who is perfectly capable of getting Alfred or anyone else to take you out. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted. But I do understand your motives. You were only doing what you do best; you were managing things.”
“I make no excuses for myself. And neither should you. You deserve the best.”
“So do you, Kirk.”
Never had the need to kiss her been so great. He leaned toward her, drawn irresistibly to her lips. When he was only inches away, he stopped.
“You have cheese on your face.” His voice was husky, his passion barely controlled.
“Where?”
“There.” He moved his hand to the corner of her mouth. Gently he wiped away the cheese. “You take looking good enough to eat seriously, don’t you?”
“Yes. Mischievous angels are like that.”
“What would a mischievous angel say if a certain old fogy invited her to go roller-skating?”
“Roller-skating? You?”
He laughed. “Does that surprise you so much? I’m the one who taught you to skate.”
“Are you sure? I noticed your briefcase was bulging with papers. I don’t want to interfere with your life-style.”
“Joanna, I’m beginning to wonder if there isn’t more to life than work. I’m asking you to teach me.”
She blushed, remembering what she’d asked him to teach her.
“I’ll be glad to teach you. But you’ll need to change. Nobody except bankers and governors roller-skates in three-piece suits.”
“Great. I’ll meet you back here in fifteen minutes.” He left the den, whistling.
Joanna watched him go. She’d pulled many pranks in her lifetime, but she’d never been rewarded for one. She decided that attitude had made the difference. She’d set up her stunt not out of defiance, but out of desire to make her point clear. Instead of being judgmental and accusing, she’d merely been firm.
She smiled in triumph and hurried upstairs to change into shorts.
o0o
The roller rink was almost empty.
Kirk knelt in front of Joanna and laced up her skates.
“I remember when you laced on my first pair of skates.”
“So do I.” He lingered over the chore, holding her leg firmly across his knee. His hand on her bare leg sent shivers up her spine.
“This is just like old times. Right, Kirk?”
“I don’t think so. Lately I’ve come to believe that one can never go back.”
“Are you speaking hypothetically?”
“No. From personal experience.”
He made no move to release her leg. The heat of his touch spread upward.
“If you can’t go back, then where do you go?”
“Forward, Joanna, to that unknown and scary future.”
Reaching out, she touched his face. “I suppose the future wouldn’t be so scary with the right person at your side.”
“How very wise you are.” He stood up abruptly, lifted her to her feet, then turned her in the direction of the rink. “Why don’t you warm up out here while I lace my skates?”
Joanna thought if things got any warmer, she’d burst into flames. For a while she immersed herself in skating, concentrating on the thud of the rollers against the wooden floor and the feeling of freedom as she raced around the rink. Skating was almost like flying. As her rollers hummed over the floor, she decided that skating was an adult hobby that could very well replace fifty-dollar-an-hour therapy.
Kirk sat on the sidelines, mesmerized by her. Her zest for life took his breath away. The joyful exuberance fairly flowed from her. “No man in his right mind would retreat from that.”
“Did you say something, mister?”
He looked up to see a freckle-faced boy about six years old standing beside him.
“Just talking to myself.”
“Old folks are crazy.” The little boy wobbled off on his skates.
“Out of the mouths of babes.”
Joanna spun to a stop near the railing. “Aren’t you coming out, Kirk?”
“Yes. I’m just collecting my courage.”
She laughed. “You’re not scared, are you?”
“No. Just embarrassed. It’s been a hundred years since I was on a pair of these things. I’m going to look funny at work tomorrow with a broken leg.”
“I’ll hold your hand.”
He executed a shaky entrance onto the rink, and Joanna reached for his hand. “Role reversal. I like it.” He smiled down at her.
“I do, too.”
Holding hands, they skated around the rink, staying close to the railing so that Kirk could catch himself if he needed to. By the time they’d made three revolutions, he was steady on his feet. But still he held her hand.
She glanced up at him. “You caught on quickly.”
“My skills are rusty, but they’re coming back.” The music they’d skated to suddenly changed from disco to dreamy. “The ‘Skater’s Waltz.’ Remember that, Joanna?”
“I do. It was my sixteenth birthday. You had a skating party for me, and that was our first dance.”
“And my last—until you came back into my life.”
Without another word Kirk turned her in his arms and began to waltz across the floor. Some of their steps were wobbly, but they kept the rhythm.
Joanna felt as if she’d entered a dream. She wanted to close her eyes, but she didn’t dare for fear she’d miss a single instant of seeing Kirk’s face. The stress she’d seen so often was gone. He was relaxed and smiling. His eyes were sparkling, and he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.
She knew, then, as surely as if angels had whispered in her ear, that she was in love with Kirk Maitland. It wasn’t a feeling that could be deciphered
and put in a magazine as a set of rules. It was a deep caring that defied description. His well-being was her well-being, his joy, her joy. No matter what came of it, she’d always cherish the memory of this moment.
She smiled.
“Happy, Joanna?”
“Very.”
“I’m glad.” He pulled her close, holding her so tightly against his chest that they could barely maneuver their skates. “I’m so glad, baby.”
They were still dancing when the lights dimmed.
“Time to go, Joanna.”
“Must we?”
“They’re closing the place.”
“It might be fun to be locked inside.”
“You’d get hungry.”
“I already am. Let’s stop on the way home for food.”
“Hamburger? Pizza?”
“No. The biggest banana split in Tupelo, with ice cream piled as high as the steeple on the Baptist Church.”
He laughed as he pulled off her skates. “I had a good meal.”
“Can I help it if Celestine overstayed her welcome and I had to scrounge around in the kitchen?”
“Serves you right.”
They kept up the light banter during the short drive to Finney’s and while they ate their banana split.
When they got back home, Kirk let them in. A small lamp was burning on the hall table. The glow spilled over Joanna, backlighting her so that her hair shone like a halo.
With his mouth against her hair, he spoke. “Thank you for a memorable evening, Joanna.”
“It was my pleasure.”
He stepped back. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He left her and walked quickly into his study.
Joanna was wonderfully exhausted. She went upstairs for a long, luxurious soak in the bubbles.
Inside his study Kirk snapped open his briefcase and pulled out the file on the new line of sofas he was considering. His mind felt sharp and clear. After an hour he realized that he’d finished the work he’d expected would take all evening.
It was only midnight when he climbed the stairs, an early evening for him. Inside his bedroom he stripped off his shirt and threw it across a chair. His hand was on his belt buckle when he realized there was something he had to do. Tonight, if possible. Otherwise there’d be no rest for him. Glancing across the hall, he saw the light coming from under Joanna’s bedroom door. He walked over and knocked.
