Dixie Virgin Chronicles: Joanna (Book 6)

by Webb, Peggy

  “Joanna. Are you still awake?”

  “Yes. Come in.”

  He pushed open her door. She was standing in front of her mirror, brushing her hair. She was dressed in white again, a creamy satin gown and robe that clung to her like a jealous lover. He took a deep breath to gain control.

  “You look like an angel.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. Is that what you came across the hall to tell me?”

  “No. There’s something I have to know, Joanna.”

  She said nothing, but stood very still, waiting for him to continue.

  “ Would you invite Alfred up to your bedroom?”

  “You were eavesdropping?”

  “Not intentionally. I came by to check on you, and I overheard. Would you?”

  “Is that a hypothetical question?”

  “No. Personal.”

  “In that case, it deserves an answer. No, Kirk. I would not invite Alfred up to my bedroom.”

  Her answer made him feel ten years younger. “Thank you for your honesty.”

  “You’re more than welcome.”

  “Good night, Joanna.”

  “Night, Kirk.”

  The angelic vision of Joanna in her ivory satin gown stayed with him until he slept—the deep, dreamless sleep of a man at peace.

  o0o

  From: Joanna

  To: Belinda, Catherine, Janet, Clemmie, Molly, Bea

  Re: My future

  Hang onto your hat! I’m in love with Kirk! Can you believe that? I think I’ve loved him since I was a little girl and he fixed my broken buttercup. The trick is to make him love me back. Any suggestions? You know me. I’m game for ANYTHING.

  Believe it or not, I’m also working at Deerfield, and loving it! You’d think a manufacturing company is no place for a girl with an art degree, but I’m seeing all sorts of possibilities to put my creativity to work!

  Joanna

  From: Janet

  To: Belinda, Catherine, Joanna, Clemmie, Molly, Bea

  Re: Deerfield

  That’s good news! And just what I needed to hear. One of my little patients has leukemia, and that’s always a really tough thing to have to tell parents. More than that, it’s hard to maintain a professional distance when one of God’s little angels is suffering.

  To top it off, my period is late, and I think I might be pregnant. I haven’t told Dan. He’d be over the moon, but I’m wondering how in the world I could let an unplanned pregnancy sneak up on me!

  Janet

  From: Clemmie

  To: Janet, Belinda, Joanna, Molly, Bea, Catherine

  Re: Good news!

  Oh, Joanna, what great news! You don’t need advice! Just be your charming self and Kirk will fall head over heels in love with you. He probably is already!

  I wish I’d miss my period. Michael and I want children, and lots of them, but so far, all we’ve produced together is a little screen play he’s going to film as soon as we get back to Hollywood. It’s a horror film. Can you believe that? Me, of all people, writing about blood and guts and gore? And I seem to have a knack for it! Michael thinks it will be his masterpiece in much the same way that “Psycho” was for Hitchcock. Of course, I think Michael is much, much better than Hitchcock!

  Clemmie

  From: Molly

  To: Joanna, Belinda, Clemmie, Bea, Catherine, Janet

  Re: Pregnant!

  OMG, Joanna! That’s so exciting! Daddy thinks Kirk Maitland hung the moon. My advice is wear enough of your jasmine perfume to drive him wild, and then dress to kill. Don’t go over the top showing boobs and leg. That’s wouldn’t be Kirk’s cup of tea. Go for understated sexy, you know, something that will show just a hint of cleavage. Put plenty of perfume there and then bend over his desk a lot so he gets a good gander at what he’s missing.

  Sam is WILD about my breasts! He still comes to the art gallery EVERY DAY for lunch and You Know What! If I ever get this gallery finished and ready for the opening, I guess I’ll just have to hang an Out to Lunch sign on the door. Oh, I ADORE that man!

  Molly

  P.S. Janet, if you’re pregnant, just think how many godmothers your baby will have! Clemmie, I have a feeling you’re going to become as famous as your husband.

  From: Belinda

  To: Janet, Molly, Bea, Catherine, Joanna, Clemmie

  Re: Stuff

  Yay, Joanna! I had a feeling Kirk was the one!

  Clemmie, I’m not the least bit surprised that you wrote a play. You were always thinking up little skits for us to do at camp that summer. Remember the one where you wanted me to play the frog prince, and Molly wanted me to cut my hair so I’d be realistic? If Bea hadn’t stepped in and suggested I wear a baseball cap, I might have dropped out of the Dixie Virgin group! And wouldn’t that be a tragedy!

  Still no period! I think I may really be pregnant this time. Of course, Reeve and I are priming the pump, so to speak. I spend more time out of my clothes than I do in them! Happy!!!

  Belinda

  From: Bea

  To: Joanna, Clemmie, Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Molly

  Re: Stuff

  I’m up to my ears in a new ad campaign for the grove, and just so you won’t think all I do is work, I’m out of my clothes enough to make Virginia ecstatic! But if I thought I was pregnant I’d shoot myself. There’s too much Russ and I have to do first!

  Clemmie, great news! Belinda, here’s hoping! Janet, you’ll handle it, no matter which color the pregnancy stick turns. Joanna, go get ‘em, girlfriend! You’ve got what it takes, and don’t you ever doubt it!

  Bea

  From: Catherine

  To: Joanna, Clemmie, Belinda, Janet, Bea, Molly

  Re: Perfume

  Joanna, I’m sending you some French perfume, jasmine, of course, from that darling little shop on Bourbon Street. Put it everywhere. If it won’t drive a man to the altar, I don’t know what will. If you want me to also send you a French maid’s uniform, I’ll do that too. It’s so naughty it could be declared a lethal weapon. You could just try it on when you know he’s home, and make sure your door is accidentally open. You’d probably have a ring on your finger the next day. From what you’ve said of Kirk, he doesn’t strike me as the kind of man to explore Virginia before the wedding!

  News on the job front: There’s a circus on the hunt for a veterinarian, and I’m thinking about applying. Is that crazy!

  Cat

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning, when Joanna and Kirk left for work in separate cars, she was wearing a secret smile and plenty of jasmine perfume in the cleavage of a yellow top that fit like sin.

  As soon as she got to work she found the magazine she was looking for and read it again, just to be sure she’d remembered correctly. It confirmed her thinking, so she boldly advanced her plan. Since she didn’t have her own office, Karen couldn’t help but catch on to what she was doing.

  After lunch she ventured to comment, “What you’re doing is mighty brave, Joanna. None of the department heads has even initiated a change without Mr. Maitland’s specific okay.”

  “I’m not a department head, Karen. I’m an owner. Besides, Kirk told me to be innovative. That’s what I’m doing. I think he’s going to be impressed. Don’t you?”

  “Shocked might be a better word.”

  “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Right now I have to go down and do some poll taking.” She left the office with a jaunty wave.

  Kirk came out of his office shortly after she’d gone.

  “Where’s Joanna?” he asked.

  “Downstairs.”

  “When she comes back will you please tell her I’ve gone home already.” His step was light as he, too, left the office.

  “Will wonders never cease?” Karen said, then she turned back to her typing.

  o0o

  Joanna was pleased with herself. In one afternoon she’d managed to locate enough equipment to give her plan a trial run. If it worked, then she’d move into th
e final stages. At last she was making a real contribution to the business. She was doing something Kirk would admire. When she parked Kirk’s Oldsmobile in the garage, she was smiling.

  He met her at the door wearing a white T-shirt and Bermuda shorts in a shocking shade of yellow. The shirt was damp with sweat, and the shorts were faded at the seams.

  “Hello, Joanna.”

  She looked him up and down. “Big Bird, I presume?”

  Kirk laughed. “They’re awful, aren’t they? I discovered that my wardrobe is terribly lacking in sports clothes. These are holdovers from my college days. A Christmas present from my best friend’s aunt Eleanor, if I remember correctly.”

  “They make a nice change from your business suits. And you left work early. I approve. You need the rest.”

  “I didn’t come home to rest. Come with me. I have a surprise for you.” He took her hand and led her through the hall, into the kitchen and down the basement stairs. She smelled the fresh paint before she saw it.

  “You’re painting the rec room?” she asked.

  “Yes. It hasn’t been used since you left for college. I thought I’d brighten it up, get it ready for use again.”

  Half the basement walls were a faded blue and the other half sported a new coat of bright peach paint.

  “I love it, Kirk.” She kicked off her shoes. “Do you have an extra brush?”

  “You’re not going to paint in that skirt?”

  “I could pull it off.” She grinned at him. “But on second thought, I’ll go upstairs and change.”

  She changed into a pair of shorts and a halter top that left very little to the imagination. With that distraction, Kirk knew that he’d get very little painting done.

  “I love do-it-yourself projects.” Joanna bent over the paint bucket and dipped her brush in. “This is so much more fun than calling in a decorator, don’t you think so?” When she straightened up, she was smiling and dripping paint on the floor.

  She was so goodnatured and cheerful about the project, Kirk didn’t have the heart to tell her. She could drip paint all over the room for all he cared. Just as long as she was happy. He could always hire a decorator to come in and straighten up the mess.

  “Absolutely,” he agreed.

  She swiped a spot on the wall and bent over the bucket once more. “Kirk, you know what I was thinking?”

  He watched in fascination as she made another swipe, getting nearly as much paint on herself as she did the wall.

  “No. What?”

  “I was thinking what fun it would be to do a painting on this wall. Art. Something bright and lively. Clowns and carousels and hot-air balloons. Similar to the works from Picasso’s Rose Period.”

  “That sounds delightful, Joanna. Paint whatever you want on the walls.”

  “Won’t the children love it!” She made another pass at the bucket, dripping a stream of paint down her bare leg.

  “What children?”

  “Our children.”

  “Ours?”

  “This home belongs to both of us. I’m going to have children someday. Aren’t you?”

  “I used to think so. I haven’t given it any thought in years.”

  “Well, I have. I’m going to have lots of children. And they’re all going to love these basement walls.”

  He suddenly felt old. Of course she’d have lots of children, he thought. She was young, vital. Life was just beginning for her. He’d had his chance and blown it. Suddenly, what he was doing seemed foolish to him, a futile effort at trying to be young.

  “Joanna, it’s getting late. I think I’ll knock off and go upstairs for dinner.” He put his paintbrush in the stainless-steel basement sink and turned on the water.

  “Wait a minute, Kirk. You have paint on your cheek.” She walked over to him and reached for his face.

  He leaned out of her way, laughing. “Whoa.”

  “Hold still.”

  “If you get your hands on me, I’ll have paint on more places than my cheek. You should see yourself, Joanna. You look like you’ve been tie-dyed.”

  She looked down at herself. Speckles of peach paint dotted her legs, arms and hands, and even her midriff.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “And spoil all your fun?” Kirk tossed her a clean washcloth. “Don’t worry. It’s water-base paint. It’ll come out.”

  While Kirk cleaned the brushes Joanna swiped and smeared at her paint splotches.

  “It’s hopeless, Kirk. I think I’m going to be speckled for the rest of my life.”

  Kirk took the washcloth, rinsed it and began to work on her left arm. “You always were impatient.” He worked at the smudges, stopping frequently to rinse out the washcloth. “See. It’s coming right off. All you have to do is keep cleaning the cloth.”

  He offered her the cloth but she shook her head. “You do it, please. I’ll just make a mess.”

  Cleaning her arms and hands wasn’t so bad, but when Kirk bent to clean her midriff he knew he was walking on thin ice. Joanna’s midriff was taut and tanned and smelled of jasmine. It took all his willpower to concentrate on the paint spots instead of that heady scent and the memories it evoked. By the time he got to her legs, his T-shirt was soaked with sweat.

  She was voluptuous, and all woman, and he felt like a cad for what he was thinking.

  By the time he’d finished, his hands were shaking. He was grateful for the small reprieve of turning his back to her while he hung the washcloth over the rim of the sink.

  “Joanna, I won’t be eating dinner with you tonight.”

  “But you said...”

  “I know. But I need to go down to the office and get some of my files on Granlan. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll work down there a while tonight. Make up for the time I took off this afternoon.”

  o0o

  She didn’t seem him again until he got to Deerfield the next day. She’d arrived early in order to set her plan in motion. As soon as he came to the office, she greeted him.

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  He quirked his eyebrows. “Early to work, Joanna? Deerfield must be growing on you.”

  “I came early to get my surprise ready.”

  He laughed. “I hope it doesn’t involve peach-colored paint.”

  “No. That was yours. This one is mine.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I hope you can stand waiting ten more minutes. The surprise won’t work unless the employees are here.”

  He laughed. “You’re the impatient one in this family. I can wait. Call me when you’re ready.” He went into his office.

  At precisely nine o’clock, Joanna made her rounds of the plant, setting her surprise into motion; then she went upstairs to get Kirk.

  Taking his hand, she led him first to the cutting room. “You’re going to love this,” she said.

  He heard the surprise before he saw it. Rock-and-roll music was pouring forth from the cutting room.

  “Joanna, what in the world it going on?”

  “I read in one of your magazines that there’s a correlation between music and productivity. So I decided to give it a try.” She flung the door open with a flourish. “What do you think?”

  His usually sedate cutting department was transformed. The bolts of cloth were there; the employees were there; the machines were there. Business was going on, but not as usual. Most of the men and women were smiling, and some of them were shimmying and shaking to the music as they performed their jobs.

  His initial reaction was to cut off that horrible racket, but seeing Joanna’s smiling face, he controlled the urge. “Why, I think it’s... innovative.”

  “I took a poll, Kirk. I found out what kind of music the majority of employees in each department like.”

  “You’ve done this in every department?”

  “Yes. Wait till you see accounting.” They left the cutting room and started down the hall. “Everybody in there is just like Alfred. Conservative. They’re playing Brahms and Beethove
n. But in marketing and development they prefer jazz. Then there’s the assembly line. Guess what they like.”

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “Country and western. ‘Help Me Make It through the Night’ and all those wonderful old crying songs.”

  His smile was rueful. “I can understand the need for a crying song.”

  The sparkle left her face. “You don’t like what I’ve done?”

  Kirk felt like a heel. He stopped beside the water fountain and took her by the shoulders. “Did you do this for me, Joanna?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was so soft he had to lean down to catch it. “I did think the changes might be good for the company, but I did this mostly for you. I wanted you to see...” She hesitated, biting her bottom lip.

  “See what?”

  “That we’re not so different. That I can be suitable.”

  “Ahh, Joanna.” He pulled her into his arms, swiftly, without thought. With his face against her hair and his hands gently massaging her back, he reasoned, “Don’t change for any man, and certainly not for me.”

  She tipped her head back so she could look into his face. “Kirk, I—”

  “Mr. Maitland! Your secretary told me to wait in your office, but I took a chance on finding you, and there you are.” Gracelyn Phillips bore down on them as she talked.

  Kirk stepped back from Joanna, but kept his arm protectively across her shoulders. “And is this little Joanna, all grown-up, with you?” The hand Gracelyn offered Kirk was covered with enough jewels to decorate a queen’s crown. “My, my. Your little cousin, isn’t she?” She dramatically emphasized the word cousin by lifting her plucked eyebrows halfway into her lacquered bangs.

  “Hello, Gracelyn.” Kirk gave her limp hand a brief shake, then turned smoothly to Joanna. “You remember Gracelyn Phillips, don’t you? She’s the head of every charity fund-raiser in Tupelo.” Smiling at Gracelyn, he said, “What can my step-cousin and I do for you today?” His sharp emphasis on step-cousin would have cut through steel.