Charade

by Barri Bryan

  Lynn came into the living room and sat on one end of the couch. She would have preferred sitting in her mother's easy chair, but Minerva was curled up on the cushion and Lynn was in no mood to argue with an ill-tempered feline.

  Minerva woke, arched her back and stretched before hopping to the floor, raising her tail in the air and walking stiff-legged from the room.

  Lillie asked as she came into the room, “What did you do to Minerva?"

  Lynn snapped, “Not a damn thing.” She reigned in her annoyance. She hadn't come here to discuss her mother's cat. “I have something to tell you."

  Lillie sank down into her easy chair. “Have you had lunch?"

  Lynn said on an expelled breath, “I'm not hungry."

  Lillie did know how to push all her buttons. “I hope you aren't dieting again."

  Lynn gritted her teeth and held onto her temper. “Do you want to listen to what I came here to tell you?"

  Lillie's voice was as prim as a child's. “Not really since I think I know what this is about. But go ahead, tell me your side of the story."

  Lynn jumped to her feet. “"My side?” She dropped back down onto the couch. “What is that supposed to mean?"

  Lillie sighed. “It means I hope you aren't headed for heartbreak again.” A wayward tear coursed down her cheek. “Go ahead, say it, tell me that you're involved with some stranger even though I don't want to hear it."

  A little touch of venom crept into Lynn's voice. “Oh yes, because getting involved with a man I've only known a short time is such a crime, isn't it Mother?” She shot Lillie a disparaging look as she slowly brought her emotions under control. “He's not a stranger. His name is Trace Randolph.” She suspected that her mother already knew, but Lynn told her anyway. “He's Ralph's son."

  In all innocence Lillie asked, “Ralph who?"

  Lynn fairly shouted, “Ralph Randolph, Mother, your boyfriend, remember?"

  "I don't have a boyfriend,” Lillie replied indignantly."

  "Well excuse me, Ralph Randolph, the man you're sleeping with.” Lynn bit her tongue and closed her mouth. She didn't want to argue with her mother and that seemed the direction they were headed.

  Lillie smiled the saddest smile Lynn had ever seen. “Are you disappointed in me?"

  "No,” Lynn answered. She was surprised to realize that was a true statement.

  Lillie extended one hand. “Will you let me explain?"

  Lynn leaned against the couch arm. “You don't owe me an explanation.” She tagged her statement with a probing, “Are you disappointed in me?"

  "Heavens no,” Lillie replied.

  "You aren't?” That came as a surprise. Lynn had been sure her mother would launch into a long lecture on the dangers of dating strange men. Then she remembered that her mother was guilty of what she was admitting to. That thought made Lynn smile. “I'm glad."

  "I don't care how many men you sleep with.” Lilly's sad smile transformed to an amused grin. “Let me rephrase that. I don't expect you to live a life of celibacy. I just worry—I don't want some man to break your heart again."

  "And what if you get hurt by some man?"

  Lillie snorted, “That's not going to happen."

  Lynn retorted, “How do you know that?"

  Minerva appeared from nowhere and hopped into Lillie's lap. She stroked the cat's soft, white fur. “I no longer need some all-consuming passion in my life.” She scratched behind Minerva's ears. “I can settle for comfortable companionship."

  "But Trace...” Lynn stopped. Trace had said the affair between Ralph and Lillie was torrid. She'd almost blurted that out.

  Minerva hopped to the floor and Lillie dusted cat hairs from her lap. “Go ahead and tell me about Trace. I'm listening."

  Lynn drew a long breath and launched into her much rehearsed speech.

  Chapter 6

  Darkness was embracing a blue twilight as Trace stepped out the back entrance of Lynn's bakery. He whistled as he locked the door and slipped the key into his pocket. The weekend with his dad had gone much better than he'd expected. If Lynn's session with her mother had gone half as well, they were on their way to success.

  He climbed the stairs to her apartment, thinking as he ascended that the steps were much sturdier now that he'd repaired them. Once on the upper landing, he knocked on the front door and leaned against the railing as he waited for a response.

  Lynn peered through the peephole on her door before she opened it just a fraction. “Oh, it's you."

  Trace straightened. “You were expecting someone else?"

  "I wasn't expecting anybody.” She opened the door a little wider. “Did you finish working in the store room?"

  "No, I'll be in there two or three more days.” Trace took a step forward. “May I come in?” When she didn't respond, he added, “We need to compare notes about the weekend and discuss our future plans."

  Lynn swung the door open and said with a note of annoyance, “Come in."

  Trace noticed as he stepped inside that she was wearing sheer pajamas and a matching robe. “Were you in bed?"

  Lyn closed the door. “Yes, I was reading.” She pointed to a chair. “Sit down."

  As Trace sat in the easy chair, she perched on the edge of the couch and folded her hands in her lap. His breath caught in his throat. Her long hair hung in waves down her back. The lamp shining behind her head made it appear to be on fire. He gulped, “Wow.” Visions of him running his hands through that fiery red mass danced unbidden through his head.

  Lynn asked, “Is something wrong?"

  Trace swallowed. “No, why?"

  "You're staring."

  Trace chased the vision from his mind. His ability to speak coherently seemed to have followed it. “I ... We...” He cleared his throat. “How did your visit with your mother go?"

  Lynn shrugged. “Okay, I guess."

  "Only okay?” Trace had hoped for at least a good. “You guess?"

  "Sometimes I don't understand my mother,” Lynn admitted on a sigh. Her chin came up. “Hell, I don't understand my mother period. One minute she says one thing, the next minute she says something else."

  Impatience pushed Trace to his feet. “Will you tell me what happened? Give me the short version; we need to formulate our next move so I can get out of here and go down to Joe's Diner for some dinner."

  "Is that why you're so grumpy?” Lynn stood and walked toward her kitchen. “I have some stew in the fridge. I'll warm it and you can eat while I fill you in on my visit with Mother.” She smiled over her shoulder. “Maybe with food in your stomach your mood will improve."

  Her sweet smile triggered more visions. Under that thin robe and those sheer pajamas her bare skin was faintly visible. The sway of her hips made it difficult for Trace to concentrate on the business at hand. He followed her, unable to stop his eyes from watching her derriere as she walked in front of him.

  The kitchen was warm and well-kept. Trace sat in one of the two chairs at the small kitchen table and watched as Lynn poured the contents of the bowl into a pan and set it in the microwave and hit the timer. “I don't want to impose."

  "It's not an imposition,” Lynn replied as she removed it a minute later and poured the warm stew into a bowl. She put it in front of him, took a spoon from a drawer and laid it on the table. “Would you like crackers or bread with your stew?"

  "Crackers,” Trace answered, his mouth watering at both the stew and Lynn. He took a bite; it tasted even better than it smelled. He crumbled the crackers into his bowl and ate as he watched her move about the small kitchen.

  Lynn set a glass of milk before him. “How long has it been since you ate?"

  Between bites, Trace replied, “This morning.” He took a long swallow of milk. “Why?"

  Lynn sat in the other chair. “Why didn't you eat lunch?"

  "No time,” Trace replied as he crumbled more crackers into his stew. The hollow space in his stomach began to feel full. “Tell me about your meeting with your mother."


  "I didn't have to tell her about you and me. She'd already heard.” Lynn traced the tablecloth's pattern with her finger. “You really shouldn't skip meals. It's unhealthy.” Before he could reply, she asked, “Are you sure that your dad and my mother are ... having a torrid affair?"

  Words his father had spoken over the weekend crawled across the screen of Trace's mind. Just because there's snow on the roof doesn't mean there's no fire in the furnace. Yes sir, your old man is still hot to trot. “I'm positive, why do you ask?"

  "Because Mother said—no, Mother indicated that their affair was based mostly on companionship.” Lynn pushed back her chair. “Would you like some cookies for dessert?"

  Trace waved his hand. “Never mind dessert. What do you mean your mother ‘indicated'?"

  Lynn scooted near the table once more. “Mother never says anything outright when she's discussing something that has to do with sex."

  Trace found that convoluted statement hard to believe and he said so. “My dad describes your mother as ‘one hot little number'."

  Color crawled along Lynn's cheekbones. “Your dad has some nerve disrespecting my mother like that."

  "He wasn't disrespecting her.” Was she embarrassed or angry? Trace couldn't tell. “He was complimenting her."

  "Some compliment,” Lynn sneered. She made a visible effort to control her emotions. “Let's get on with our plans. The sooner I get my mother our of your dad's lecherous clutches, the better it will be for all of us."

  Traces thought about setting this insulting woman straight on some important matters. He reconsidered. She was insulting, but she was also right. Every minute his dad was with Lillie McGuire, he was in danger. “Tell me what you told your mother about us. We can go from there."

  Lynn's belligerent gaze swept over him. “One hot number, huh? Well my hot little number of a mother reacted as I thought she would when I told her I was in love with you. She said I should take it slow and easy and not do something rash or foolish."

  Trace's mouth fell open. He quickly snapped it shut. “You told your mother you were in love with me?” That seemed to be carrying this little charade a little too far. “Maybe you should have stopped with saying you were sexually attracted to me."

  Lynn hooted, “She wouldn't give a damn if I was only sexually attracted to you."

  "Did she tell you that?"

  Lynn chewed her bottom lip. “Not exactly; she did say she didn't expect me to live a life of celibacy."

  It was as he had suspected all along. Lillie McGuire was an immoral woman. “What kind of mother doesn't care if her daughter sleeps around?” Before the words were out of his mouth, Trace realized that once again, he'd said the wrong thing. “I mean ... I thought..."

  Lynn waved one hand in his direction. “Never mind what you thought. Just tell me how things went with your dad."

  Trace smiled, happy to be once more on safe ground. “I can do that. I told Dad that I was captivated by you."

  Lynn eyed him skeptically. “You didn't."

  Trace lifted his hand. “I swear I did. I said that what we had going on was too intense to last but that was all right with me, all I wanted was an affair."

  "And your dad thought that was all right?” Lynn questioned, disbelief tilting her voice. “He wasn't upset that you were having a brief fling with a stranger?"

  Trace shook his head as he recalled how angry his father had been at that revelation. “He was more than upset, he was livid. He's been after me for years to find some—and I'm quoting now—'Fine young woman, marry her, settle down and start a family'."

  "And what did you say to that?"

  "I said I would probably settle down someday, but not with a woman like you."

  "You're more insulting that your dad.” Lynn impaled him on a stabbing stare. “I can imagine what your dad's opinion of me must be."

  Trace stared into his empty milk glass. “It couldn't be any lower than the opinion your mother must have of me."

  Lynn sighed. “This plan is going nowhere fast."

  Trace disagreed, and he said so before asking, “How long do you think it will be before my dad and your mom start comparing notes about us and our supposed affair?"

  Lynn rubbed the sides of her neck with her hands. That movement caused her breasts to move seductively beneath her thin robe and Trace couldn't help but stare. “So they compare notes, so what?"

  Trace found it difficult to keep his mind on the discussion. “So Dad thinks you're not what I need and your mother thinks I'm bad for you. What do you think will happen next?"

  "Mother will probably tell Ralph what a terrible man she thinks you are."

  Trace nodded. “Exactly, and then Dad will tell Lillie what a terrible woman he thinks you are.” He leaned back in his chair. “Then what happens?"

  A smile played around Lynn's lips. “They quarrel!"

  This couldn't have gone better if Trace had planned every detail. “What we have to do is show up in some public place, make sure they are there, and then put on our little charade."

  As usual Lynn was hesitant. “I don't know; what little charade?"

  "The one we're about to make up,” Trace said and then added, “Unless you have a better plan."

  Lynn pressed her fingertips to her temples. “No, I don't. What do we do next?"

  She dropped her hands and lifted her face. “Why do I have a feeling I will live to regret this?"

  Chapter 7

  A few moments ticked by before Trace said, “When this is over you will congratulate yourself on the good deal you made. Your mother will be rid of my dad, your building will be repaired, and you will have had a date to your class reunion."

  Lynn still had misgivings, but the reminder that Trace would be her date to the class reunion stopped her from protesting further. “Okay, tell me your plan."

  Trace pushed his chair from the table and stretched his long legs in front of him. Lynn noticed how muscular they looked and had to stop herself from staring.

  "Dad is taking your mother to the dance at the Grange Hall Friday night. I saw the tickets on the chest in his bedroom."

  "My mother has a name,” Lynn snapped, “It's Lillie.” There should be a law against any one man being so damn handsome.

  Trace sat up. “I've never even met your mother. I can't go around calling her by her first name."

  He did have a point. Lynn frowned. “Tell me the rest of your plan."

  "We show up at the dance, act like we have the hots for each other, and put on a wild public display of affection."

  A warning bell sounded inside Lynn's head. This ‘plan’ sounded slightly dangerous. “And how do two people who have the hots for each other act in public?"

  Trace grinned, obviously pleased that he had come up with such a devious idea. “They hug and kiss and look longingly into each others eyes. They dance close together and whisper sweet nothings into each other's ears. Our parents will see us and take it from there."

  Not only would their parents see them, so would half of Hatlesville. Lynn objected, “Everybody and his brother goes to that dance."

  Trace shrugged. “So what?"

  "So I don't intend to make a fool of myself in public, not even to save my mother from your dad."

  Trace reminded her, “My dad has a name too you know."

  Was he trying to be difficult? Probably so. Lynn decided to try another approach. “Maybe we should be more direct. We could get them together in some private place and tell them gently but firmly that they shouldn't see each other again."

  Trace had the nerve to laugh. “That would go over like a lead balloon."

  Despite her efforts not to, Lynn laughed too. “You're right this time."

  Trace replied with mind-bending arrogance, “I'm always right."

  He wasn't, but this was not the time to argue that point. “But I think we should wait until next Friday's dance. The class reunion is Saturday night. I have a ton of things to do before then."

 
Trace shook his head. “I have to get Ralph away from your ... Lillie as soon as possible. If you don't go Friday, I don't go Saturday."

  The louse had promised. There was no way she could force him to keep that promise. “Okay, you win. We go this Friday. But I can't stay too late. I have to open the bakery by eight o'clock Saturday morning."

  "I'll have you home by eleven.” Trace stood. “Now you're being sensible. I'll pick you up around seven Friday.” He strode toward the door. “Thanks for the dinner."

  Eleven wasn't early. Lynn was set to say as much. Before she could get the words out, Trace was walking down the hall and calling over his shoulder as he went, “Wear something sexy to the dance."

  Lynn followed him into the living room. “Why should I?"

  Trace's hand was on the door knob. “Because Dad has to think you are some kind of femme fatale.” He eyed her speculatively, and then smiled. “I hope you can pull this off."

  Before Lynn could find an answer that was scathing enough to counter such a derogatory remark, he was out the door and gone.

  Turning on her heel, she headed for her closet as Trace's parting words echoed through her mind like some profane chant. Wear something sexy. I hope you can pull this off. The nerve of this guy! She would do better than ‘pull it off'; she would show him sexy such as he'd never seen before. She'd shock that superior grin right off his handsome face.

  Lynn opened her closet door and rummaged around inside for several minutes before saying aloud, “Not wearing any of these clothes."

  Slamming the door, she sat on the side of her bed and admitted a sad truth to herself. “I don't know how to be sexy.” She almost acknowledged defeat, but only almost. Jumping to her feet, she paced across the floor and stared out the window. Traffic moved up and down the busy street. Pedestrians made their way to and fro along the busy sidewalk. Lights from the town spread a warm glow across the scene. “Maybe it's high time I learned."

  Once more dejection overtook her. How did a near-thirty, almost inexperienced woman learn over night how to be sexy?

  Memory pulled her back across the years. She'd begun dating Joel in junior high school against Lillie's wishes and over her protests. You are too young to date.