Next he wondered at Louise’s boldness of inviting herself and him into Allie’s quarters. But that fit everything about Louise. She was more than a mere woman. She was a force! From the second Frederick stepped into the Grove mansion, he felt he’d lost all control of his person. He was now Louise’s property, and suspected that Helena might be vying for joint ownership, even though Louise had hinted that her sister had a boyfriend.
What a problem to have, he thought and remembered a time twenty years ago when he’d have given anything to have two pretty women fighting over him. Of course, he’d been fifteen at the time, a little girl crazy, and a lot scrawny. Not many girls fought over him those days. Now that they were fighting over him, Frederick couldn’t have cared less. All he was interested in was Allie.
So far she seemed about as interested in him as the Beechcraft’s landing gear. Already Frederick suspected that his roadside brainstorm was failing with Allie and backfiring on him. Allie had been so eager to get away from him she’d accidentally carried his jacket with her. And she didn’t seem to care one flip that Louise and Helena had filed for joint custody of him.
As far as his side of things, Frederick was battling simultaneous attacks of the old longing and leftover bitterness. The stab of pain in his lower back only ushered in the memory of those early days after the injury . . . of his yearning for Allie . . . of his realization that she wasn’t coming. Ever. As a result, he wanted to embrace Allie one second and yell at her at the next. Her being oblivious to him now added to his anger. And Frederick was beginning to see that Allie had gouged him out of her life and probably never gave him another thought.
“So what do you think?” Louise asked and gazed around the cozy room.
“I don’t understand,” Frederick mumbled. His attention sliding to Allie, he realized he’d voiced his thoughts, which in no way answered Louise’s question.
Meanwhile, Allie hunched her shoulders, crossed her arms, and turned toward the window. Frederick felt as if she were as elusive as a mystical phantom. He didn’t know what to do or say and had no clue if he should go or stay.
“I meant what do you think about the house?” Louise replied and slapped his arm. “Wake up!” she commanded as if they were long-time friends.
“Oh,” Frederick replied and shifted the jacket to the other hand. “The house.” A rock fireplace claimed the corner, above which hung a massive painting of a deer in the woods. The leather furniture and pine walls reminded Frederick of a Swiss chalet. The faint scent of apples suggested someone had been cooking. His stomach was too tied in knots to care.
“Very nice,” he said with an approving nod and wished the hunting cabin he’d leased in Arkansas was this nice. Or at least had indoor plumbing.
“So now you’ve seen all three houses—ours, Macy’s, and this one.” Louise smiled up at him with a coy invitation. “Which do you like the best?”
Frederick placed his thumb in his jeans pocket and said, “This one, I think,” while gazing anywhere but at Allie. “It’s just more, I don’t know, comfortable, I guess.”
Allie looked different today than she had when he saw her a month ago. She was sun-kissed and windblown and reminded him of the first time he’d met her. Allie had been digging in the flowerbed. Her knees were dirty; her nose, red. And her hair was a mess. Then she’d had a ponytail. Now her hair was short.
With Louise chatting about who knew what, Allie walked toward a wide doorway that opened into the kitchen. While his heart trotted after her like an abused pup begging for any scrap of attention, his body stayed put and in the grips of its new owner.
This is crazy! he thought and decided he should leave immediately after dinner and not return. Frederick had his answer. He’d come here to see if she showed any signs of interest in him at all. She had shown none. Not even one hint of jealousy. He had decided that if she showed no interest, he would get on with his life. Maybe look for a wife. He glanced at the babbling Louise.
Someone close to my own age, he reminded himself and shifted his stance. His lower back complained. Too many more Louise attacks and he would be paralyzed for life.
The sound of footsteps on the front porch prompted Louise to tiptoe toward the window. By the time the first knock sounded, Louise was spying through the blinds. “Just like I thought,” she whispered. “It’s Helena!”
The door burst open. The redhead charged in and slammed the door. Like a general scouting out the scene, she sized up the situation. Her focus landed just above Frederick’s eyes and stayed there.
“I knew it!” she fumed. Helena trounced forward, her gaze remaining on Frederick’s forehead.
He could resist the urge no more and touched his forehead. Louise giggled. And Frederick examined his fingertips, now tinted in red. Oh no! he thought and vaguely recalled Louise ending the lip-lock with a smack on his forehead. Frederick had been so worried about getting his lips clean he’d forgotten about the forehead episode.
Helena stopped only inches away and planted her glossy bronze lips on his cheek. After pulling away she pouted and said, “If Louise gets to kiss you, then so do I!”
Frederick disentangled himself from his latest captor and hustled toward a mirror hanging behind a lamp. His worst fear was founded. The imprint of a pair of red lips marred the center of his forehead. And if that wasn’t bad enough, his cheek had now been bronzed. Frederick reached for the tissue box at the end of a bookcase and rubbed himself free of the brands.
Then he turned on his captors, lifted his hands palms outward, and said, “Look, ladies, I’m flattered by all this. Really. But we’ve got to get something straight here. If I’m going to survive the rest of the evening, I need some space. Okay?”
“See what you’ve done,” Louise said and glared at her sister.
“Me?” Helena laid both hands across her chest.
“Yes, you. Have you forgotten about Craig?”
“What Craig doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Helena said and flipped her hair over her shoulder.
“Maybe I’ll just tell him.” Louise crossed her arms.
“You wouldn’t dare!” Helena shot back and doubled her fists.
Frederick placed his thumb and index finger at his temples, closed his eyes, and decided he’d been insane when he agreed to be Louise’s catch of the day. If he hadn’t already promised to stay for dinner, Frederick would have driven back to Atlanta at warp speed to hide at Jim’s.
He lowered his hand, opened his eyes, and glanced toward the doorway Allie had gone through, only to discover she was back. She’d gotten rid of the soil-smeared gardening gear and was wearing linen pants and a royal blue top that did nice things for her dark eyes. Again, Allie peered straight at his forehead, then away. And Frederick now understood why she’d looked at his forehead before.
A tiny hope flared within. Maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t as disinterested as he’d assumed.
“I’ve got to go pick up the twins from school,” she explained, her keys rattling. “I’ll be back soon. Please continue to make yourselves comfortable,” she said like a female butler.
“That’s okay,” Frederick said and walked toward the door. “I just came for my jacket.” He pulled his arms into the sleeves and looked back. The sisters followed close behind like a couple of groupies. Frederick didn’t know whether to feel sorry for Craig, or pray for a “Craig” for Louise. He knew he certainly couldn’t be that for her. Even if she hadn’t been fifteen years younger, Louise was just too much for him.
He followed Allie out the door and thought of Darren’s reaction to his being tackled by a flying blonde. Frederick imagined his brother-in-law’s mirth and laughed out loud before he could stop himself.
Allie shot him a silent “what’s so funny?” over her shoulder while Louise said, “Let us in on the joke!”
Helena banged the door shut and said, “Yeah!”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” he mumbled and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. His fingers encountered a
piece of paper next to his keys, and Frederick pulled it out. While scanning the note, he detected a whiff of the Giorgio perfume Sophia always wore. He’d smelled the fragrance when he put on Darren’s jacket after landing the plane, and figured everything Darren owned smelled like Sophia. The coat Frederick brought from Charlotte had been too heavy, so he’d been glad to find this light jacket that Darren had left in the plane—Giorgio and all.
Folding the note back up, Frederick rolled his eyes and thought, Oh brother. He slipped the paper back into the jacket pocket and hobbled down the porch steps. His back complained with every step, but that didn’t keep him from wondering if Sophia and Darren would ever get out of the honeymoon stage. Even Sophia’s nickname, Annie, started on their honeymoon. Darren had left for Hawaii calling her Sophia and come back home calling her Annie, a derivative of her middle name, Anne. Of course, Sophia had pet names for Darren, as well—some of which Frederick was certain he was glad he did not know.
Frederick winced as he stepped to the ground. He stopped and gave his back time to tell him he could move on while the wind whipped around him. He scanned the yard and spotted Allie striding toward Macy’s Victorian-style brick home. Other than her noticing the lip prints on his forehead, she didn’t act like she cared if Louise and Helena gobbled him up.
“Are you okay?” Louise asked and bee-bopped to his side.
“Fine,” Frederick replied and braced himself against another attack as Helena staked her claim on the other side. “It’s just my back,” he explained. “An old injury.”
“Oh no, poor thang,” Louise crooned and patted his arm. “And I guess it probably didn’t help things when you had to catch me.”
“Well . . .” Frederick left the rest unsaid.
“You need a massage,” Louise purred.
“No!” Frederick exclaimed and broke away from her. When her face crumpled into a hurt frown, he smiled an apology. “Thanks anyway.”
With Helena glaring at Louise, Allie turned for a backward glance. Frederick narrowed his eyes and began a train of thought he hoped was based on fact, rather than desperate wishes. Allie had done a remarkable job of projecting indifference—almost too remarkable. But would an indifferent woman “accidentally” carry his jacket with her or care if he had red lip prints on his forehead or even bother to look over her shoulder at him and his groupies?
Frederick squinted against the sun glaring through the trees and tried to make sense of Allie’s subtle messages. Either she was more moved by his presence than she was showing, or Frederick was placing meaning where there should be none. As much as he wanted to assume the former, he decided to withhold his verdict until after dinner.
That is, if the leech ladies would give him enough space to think. Frederick glanced at Louise and then Helena. Both of them smiled up at him like they were hungry lionesses and he was a scrumptious side of beef. Frederick smiled back—sort of—and decided that before his “friendship” with these two was over, he’d have a firm chat with both of them about the pitfalls of throwing themselves at older men. Well, any man for that matter.
It’s a good thing I’m not a philanderer, he thought and shuddered to think what fate might await the leech ladies if they ever encountered a true playboy. Why their parents didn’t put a curb on them was anybody’s guess.
Twelve
Allie couldn’t get away from Frederick and his fan club soon enough. The longer she was with them, the more nauseated she grew. She scurried toward Macy’s house and counted the seconds until she could escape in the Town Car. But the garage door’s opening halted Allie. The cream-colored Town Car’s backing out of the garage hurled her into an ocean of confusion, until she realized Macy must have decided to pick up the twins herself.
Her mouth dropped open, and she was on the verge of recanting every negative thought she’d had about Macy’s irresponsibility, when high-pitched beeping floated from her purse. Allie pulled her phone out and saw it was Macy.
She’d barely placed the phone against her ear when Macy’s excited voice came over the line. “Hot news, Allie! Martha says Bloomingdale’s is having a big sale.” Allie watched the vehicle and weakly smiled at Macy as she madly waved from the driver’s seat. “We’re going now!”
“But what about the twins?” Allie asked.
“Get Louise or Helena to go get them.”
“No!” Allie exclaimed. “Those two drive like maniacs. I’ll take one of their cars.” She sheepishly glanced over her shoulder in hopes that neither of the sisters heard her. Fortunately they were too enamored with their catch of the day to listen to anything Allie said.
“Good point,” Macy said and ended the call with an abrupt “See ya!” Then she wheeled the vehicle around and darted up the paved lane. Allie sighed and watched the Town Car zoom away. Apparently a headache couldn’t withstand a big sale. Allie repented about her former urge to recant her calling Macy irresponsible. She wondered how her sister’s sons had survived to eleven, and attributed it to their living so close to Charlie’s parents. Mr. and Mrs. Grove had played a big role in raising those boys. Although no one would have guessed that with Martha Grove dashing off to Bloomingdale’s in a bargain-crazed frenzy.
The afternoon sun warmed Allie’s nose and cheeks with the cheerful promise of a delightful spring. Allie looked toward the cloudless horizon and once again pondered Atlantic Beach. Here the wind was scented with fresh foliage and pines. There it smelled of sand and saltwater. Here Allie was nanny and gardener and chief complaint-hearer. There Allie would be free to laze on the beach.
But I’d still have to listen to complaining—mainly Evelyn’s. Allie fought the wind for a strip of hair she tucked behind her ear and wished for Elton Mansion and her third-floor haven.
“Something wrong?” Frederick’s voice stroked Allie’s neck and sent a shiver down her spine.
She turned to face him and tried to remind herself he was a womanizer. When his brown eyes did interesting things to her temperature, she made herself remember that many, many women experienced the same effect. “I was going to take Macy’s car to pick up her sons from school.” Allie pointed toward the lane. “But she and Martha have decided to hit a sale at Bloomingdale’s. My car’s being serviced, so—”
“I’ll drive you in my rental car,” Frederick offered.
“No!” Allie shook her head and nearly ran. “I could never impose—”
“You wouldn’t be imposing.” Frederick waved aside the very thought. “It’s the least I could do. For old time’s sake.” His carefree smile reminded her of their first date. They’d gone to the park and Frederick pushed her swing so high she felt like she was flying.
“Is there room for me?” Louise purred from close behind.
“Me too,” Helena added.
“’Fraid not,” Frederick said. “I’m in a Mustang. By the time the kids get into the backseat with their backpacks, there won’t be much room left.” His tight smile suggested he was a bit tired of his fan club.
Allie’s brows twitched, and she wondered if he might be missing Annie and her “Hot Lips Red” kisses. Thoughts of that lipstick sent a worry rippling through Allie, and she wondered if she should consider somehow replacing the tube in the jacket pocket.
“So what do ya say?” Frederick prompted.
Allie checked her watch to see that it was already two thirty. She should be leaving now. Her only other option was asking to borrow either Louise or Helena’s Corvettes. Their father had given them identical vehicles for Christmas, and both girls acted like they were race car driver wannabes, although Louise was worse than Helena every day of the week. Chances were high they’d want to drive, and there would barely be room to cram both boys in, let alone another adult. Allie was more ready to chance a ride with her near-miss fiancé than allowing the boys to ride with either of those two road lizard race mavens. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about losing her life with Frederick at the wheel. He was a safe driver ten years ago. Allie banked on his be
ing a safe driver now.
“Come on,” Frederick teased through a broad grin. “We’re probably talking about half an hour in a car, right? You look like you’re ready to consult a committee.”
“Okay, I’ll go with you,” Allie replied.
Frederick blinked. “Really?”
“Well, yes. I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” She avoided looking at Louise and Helena, who had resumed their places hanging on his arms. She tried staring past Frederick for a few seconds and felt even more awkward than she did when looking into his eyes.
“Good, then,” he said. “Let’s go!”
“Okay, except . . .” Allie checked her watch. “I really need to hurry now. I try to get there early so I can be one of the first in line. The way things are looking, I’m going to be one of the last ones in line—or even worse—late.”
Frederick grabbed her hand, broke away from his fan club, and hurried from the yard with Allie trotting to keep up. “See ya tonight,” he called over his shoulder.
Allie’s brief glimpse of Louise and Helena, wilted and disheartened, would have left her feeling sorry for them under other circumstances. She casually removed her hand from Frederick’s and tried not to remember how treasured she’d felt when he held her hand all those years ago.
“I’d run,” Frederick explained, “but my back is giving me grief.” No sooner had he admitted this than he closed his eyes, clutched at his lower back, and halted.
“Are you going to be okay?” Allie asked and put her hand on his arm. Once she realized what she’d done, she jerked her hand away.
“I’m okay. Really.” Frederick’s face contorted and he opened his eyes. “It’s just a war injury. That’s all. They thought I would never walk again, so I guess I should be thankful it’s just pain. It’s much better than paralysis any day.” He tried to smile.
“Look,” Allie said, “why don’t I go get your car and drive it back here. Do you think you could drive from here?”
Possibilities: A Contemporary Retelling of Persuasion Page 9
