by Judith Gould
"He's . . . oh, it's so hard to explain," she said. She decided she would confide everything in Colette, knowing that she could trust her discretion. "He had that terrible accident playing polo, like I told you, and it's going to take a long time for him to recover—in more ways than one. His looks have been affected by skin grafts and plastic surgery, and he's got to have a lot more."
"Oh, dear," Colette said. "Will he be permanently scarred?"
Valerie nodded. "Yes," she said, "and that's terrible, of course. But I think the worst damage it's done is to his ego. His pride. You can imagine. In places, his skin looks like a burn victim's. Most of that's hidden, but some of it does show. He'll have to live with it the rest of his life. There's no escaping it."
"Perhaps with time," Colette said, "he'll learn to cope with it, and perhaps . . . perhaps you can help him?"
Valerie felt herself blush slightly. "I hope so, Colette," she said. "He's still a very handsome man. Just a little rough around the edges, I guess you'd say. That's one of the reasons he came up to Stonelair. To get away from the world and have a place to recover."
"So that's it," Colette said. "Something so innocent, so harmless. And all this talk about drug lords and the Mafia and such."
Valerie laughed. "It really seems ridiculous once you get to know him." She went on to tell Colette everything she knew about Wyn Conrad, and about their dinner the night before.
When she'd finished, Colette said, "It's when wonderful things like this happen, Val, that I begin to suspect there might be a benevolent creator. That there might really be some great plan. It seems much more than a mere coincidence." She reached over and squeezed Valerie's hand in hers. "I'm so happy for you."
"Thanks, Col—" Valerie began. The telephone rang on the table next to her. "I'd better get that," she said apologetically as she picked up the receiver. "I'm on call at the clinic."
"Of course, darling," Colette said.
"Hello," Valerie said.
"Val?"
Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice, and she suddenly wished she were alone. Thank God for portables, she thought, getting up out of her chair. "Wait just a second," she said. She pressed the hold button.
"Colette, I'll be right back," she said.
Colette smiled knowingly. "Should I go?"
"No," Valerie said. "I'll just be a minute." She stepped through the door into the kitchen, then went on down the hallway to the living room, where she curled up in a chair. She pushed the hold button again.
"Hi," she said. "Sorry about that, but my neighbor's here and I wanted to have some privacy."
"That's okay," he said. "How are you doing today?"
"I'm all right," she said. "Actually, it was sort of hectic this morning. A friend's dog was poisoned, and I had to go over there and check that out."
"Poisoned?" he said. "That's horrible."
"Yes," she said. "It really was terrible, and I can't figure it out. Sometimes that sort of thing happens because of real grudges or revenge, but there doesn't seem to be any reason for this. The owner's a friend of mine, so it was really awful."
"I'm sorry," he said. He paused a moment, then added, "Maybe I can help make you feel a little bit better?"
She felt her heart leap with joy. So this is what it's like, she thought. This . . . this wonderful feeling is what I've been missing with Teddy.
"And exactly how do you propose to do that?"
"I can think of several things," he replied with a chuckle, "but I was thinking about a little dinner again tonight. For two."
"Think you can wine and dine me and win me over, huh?" she joked.
"I am sincerely going to give it my best try."
"Spoken like a true male chauvinist pig," she said. "So comforting."
"I thought so," he said. "I am putting up my best front for you."
"I'd hate to see your worst."
"How about if I show it to you after dinner then?"
"Sounds heavenly," she replied.
"About eight o'clock okay?"
"Perfect. I'll wear my new see-through Versace."
"We don't want to scare the horses," he said.
"You're one to talk," she said.
He was silent for a beat, then roared with laughter. "You're a mean and hateful and spiteful woman, and I can't wait to see you."
"Same here."
He hung up, and she sat there staring at the living room walls, not really seeing anything. She didn't think she'd ever felt so buoyant, so happy, so alive and full of hope for the future. She went back out to the porch, where she rejoined Colette.
"The look on your face says you have a date," Colette ventured.
Valerie nodded. "Yes." She sighed happily.
Colette reached over and patted her on the arm. "God bless you, Val," she said. "I suppose Hayden and I should run along home and let you spend your time getting—"
The telephone rang again, and Valerie looked over at Colette and shrugged. "What can I say?" she said. "I'm popular."
She picked up the receiver. "Hello?" she said.
"Val, I want to talk to you." It was Teddy, and he sounded like a sergeant major giving orders.
"Not now, Teddy," she said. "Colette's here, and we're busy."
"What do you mean you're busy?" he snapped. "What's that old bitch ever done but powder her nose?"
Valerie was stunned speechless by the vehemence in his voice. "I don't have to listen to this," she finally replied. "I'll be glad to talk to you when you're not feeling quite so offensive." She quietly replaced the receiver in its cradle and turned to look at Colette.
"Oh-ho," Colette said. "He's not playing nice-nice."
"No," Valerie replied. "Definitely not."
"Oh, dear," Colette sympathized. "If there's anything I can do, darling, you just say the word, and I'll gladly do it."
"I think Teddy and I'll just have to have a little talk," Valerie said. "After what happened this morning, I don't feel like I really owe him any explanations, but I guess I ought to try to smooth over some of his ruffled feathers."
"Well, you were friends for years, so it would be a shame for it to end really badly," Colette agreed. "But don't you dare let him browbeat you, Val."
Valerie shook her head. "No, Colette," she said, "don't you worry about that. I'm not going to let that happen. I'm really sick to death of being told what to do by him—and my mother. I'd like to be friends with both of them, but I'm really up to my ears with their ordering me around."
"That's the spirit!" Colette said. "I knew you had it in you."
"I guess you knew it better than I did," Valerie said, looking over at her friend.
"Well, you know it now," Colette said. "You've
been very brave in the past, defying your parents to do what you really wanted to do, but still, you've been under their thumbs for such a long time—well, Teddy's and your mother's—that it's wonderful to see you sprouting wings."
"Speaking of which, I'm surprised Mother hasn't already called," Valerie said.
"Oh, she will," Colette said, nodding. "Knowing Marguerite, she's simply busy plotting away at her war table, drawing up new battle plans."
Valerie laughed. "You know her so well."
"Well enough to know she's not yet begun to fight," Colette said. "Unfortunately." She opened the pocket of her smock and peered in. "I thought I felt Hayden stirring about, but I see he's sound asleep. I suppose I ought to take him home and put him to bed."
"He's got to have his rest, so he can play on his wheel all night," Valerie said.
"Oh, yes," Colette said. "They're completely nocturnal creatures, and that's nice for me because you know how nocturnal I am. Hayden keeps me company in the wee hours when I read or write letters or watch television. Puff Puppy sleeps away like a smart doggy should." She looked at her wristwatch. "Anyway, darling, I'd really better go. I know you want to get all beautified for tonight."
She eased herself out of the chair, then adjusted h
er big straw hat. Valerie rose to her feet to show her out.
"Darling," Colette said, "I'm so thrilled for you I can't find the words." She kissed Valerie on both cheeks. "I know you'll have a wonderful evening."
"I know so, too," Valerie said, "and don't worry, I'll keep you posted."
"Oh, I hope you do," Colette said. "It's so exciting." She leaned down and stroked Elvis. "Bye-bye, sweet boy," she said. Elvis thumped his tail in response.
Valerie held the porch door open for her, and Colette left, waving as she negotiated the stone path, the sweet scent of her perfume trailing behind her. Thank God for Colette, Valerie thought. I couldn't ask for a better friend.
She filled Elvis's water bowl, added some dry meal to his food bowl, and decided to take a long, leisurely bath. After making herself a light lunch, she had worked for a long time in the garden, weeding and deadheading mostly, before she had finally decided to call Colette to come over. Now she could feel her muscles, tired and sore.
Maybe I'll take a bubble bath, she thought. Then she laughed aloud. This is really fun. This gleeful anticipation of the evening. Now I finally know what all those other women over the years were talking about before their big dates.
Outside, the car cruised by again, slowly, but not so slowly as to look too suspicious to anyone who happened to notice it. Not that there was anyone about to see anything. There were only the two houses on this country lane. Then suddenly there was somebody.
The driver sped up slightly, but not before seeing Colette come through the garden gate that led to Valerie's and noticing her take something from the pocket of her smock, holding it up to her face, and making as if to kiss it before replacing it in her pocket.
What the hell? the driver wondered. Does she think a creepy little thing like that even knows who she is? She must be crazy, the old coot, but at least she never saw me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
They had dined together on the candlelighted terrace again tonight, but Gerda Reinhardt hadn't had a hand in preparing the food. With some assistance from Valerie in the mansion's big kitchen, the two of them had done everything together, sipping a dry white wine as they worked. Valerie gathered up the condiments— ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, and pickle relish—then sliced tomatoes and onions and cheese and washed lettuce, while Wyn piled charcoal in the grill outside and lit a fire, then made big patties out of the hamburger meat and peeled and sliced potatoes for French fries.
"I'm not going to deep-fry these," Wyn said, "if you don't mind."
"What are you going to do with them?" she asked.
"Spray them with Pam, then put them in the oven," he replied. "I swear they're almost as good as the real thing."
"It sounds good," she said, "and healthier, too. I guess we should make some concessions to healthy eating, shouldn't we?"
"Well," he said, "a little here and a little there. I don't obsess about it."
"Good," she said, "because I don't think I could stand it if you did."
He laughed. "That's what I like about you," he said. "A woman who speaks her mind."
"If I don't," Valerie replied, "nobody's going to do it for me."
Out on the terrace, they enjoyed their hamburgers and French fries, and had fresh peaches for dessert. Then they sprawled out in the library with the four dogs and the cat, who'd decided to pay a visit. They were sipping coffee laced with a dollop of brandy.
"That was really perfect," Valerie said. "I love simple food."
"I do, too," he said. "I didn't realize how much I liked it until I went to one too many fancy parties in Palm Beach. All the hostesses try to outshine each other with delicacies and exotic ingredients."
"I think that trend has even hit the provinces," Valerie said.
"I finally decided I had pretty simple tastes," Wyn went on. "Not just meat and potatoes, but fish and fowl and veggies, too, only not played with so much. You know what I mean?"
Valerie nodded. "It's become almost like an obsession with some people, and I'm worn out with it. At first I thought it was funny, but I'm really tired of going to restaurants with micro this and baby that and infused the other." She stopped and looked at him. "And I'm really sick of the pyramids."
"Oh, yeah," he said, laughing. "Now everything on your plate has to be arranged in a pyramid. Whether it's an entree or dessert or whatever. I'm glad you noticed that, too."
"I guess it's just another fad," she said. "Something else will come along soon—maybe trapezoids?—but I'll still love hamburgers and French fries."
"You're my kind of girl," he said, looking into her eyes.
"You think so?" she asked.
He nodded. "I know so." He took a sip of his coffee, then said, "Which brings me to a ticklish subject."
"What's that?" she asked. "My feet?"
He grinned. "No," he said. "That's later." Then his face became serious. "Did you talk to that fiancé of yours yet?"
"As a matter of fact, I did. By default actually," she replied, her eyes sparkling with liveliness. She had hardly been able to restrain herself from telling him what had happened this morning, but had wanted to wait for the right moment. Now, she decided, was definitely it. "You're not going to believe it."
"Try me," he replied.
She repeated for him the events at breakfast that morning at her mother's. When she was finished telling the story, she looked over at him and said, "So you see, Mr. Conrad, I'm a free woman."
His dark eyes were boring into hers intently. "I don't know when I've ever heard better news," he said. "And I mean that, Val."
He slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him on the couch. Then he tenderly kissed her on the cheek. "I've never meant anything more," he said. "You sparked my interest the very first time I saw you, then, well . . . you set off fireworks inside me. I didn't know it could ever be like this."
"I know exactly what you mean," she replied. "I- I've been . . . experiencing the very same thing. I guess ... I don't know what to call it, but..." Her words trailed off into silence.
He kissed her cheek again, then whispered, "I think it's safe to say it's what they call love, Val."
She almost shivered with the thrill of hearing the word. It was a thrill mixed with fear, for she knew that with love came commitment and compromise, and having to give up a degree of the independence she'd fought so hard for. But she also knew that for this man she could overcome any fears. Every fiber in her being told her he was right for her, there was no mistaking it, that he was the one.
It is love, she thought, plain and simple. There was nothing else to call what she was feeling for him, or he her, if what he said was true.
"You can say it, Val," he whispered. "I will."
She felt his arm tighten around her, and she looked up into his dark eyes.
"I love you, Val," he said. "It may be crazy, but I know I really do love you."
She felt her face flush with heat, and she nodded slightly. "I'm-I'm in love with you, too, Wyn," she said softly.
"There," he said. "That wasn't so difficult, was it? We're in love with each other." He hugged her closer still, then kissed her lips gently, staring into her eyes.
Valerie returned his kiss, hungry for him as she had never been for Teddy or anyone else. She put her arms around him, gingerly stroking his back, wanting to hold on to him with all her might, but afraid that she'd hurt some tender spot on his body unknowingly.
He seemed to sense her cautious restraint and leaned back and looked at her, a smile on his lips. "I'm not glass," he said. "I won't break."
"I-I'm just not sure how delicate you are," she said.
"Me?" he said. "I'm tough as leather, young lady, and don't you forget it." He smiled again. "Well . . . except maybe for my face right now."
"Aha!" she said teasingly. "So you've got a soft spot."
"For you," he said, "I've definitely got a soft spot."
He gently drew her to him again, and she felt herself melt into his arms. They
began kissing once more, their hands exploring one another's bodies, their passion blossoming into urgency. Valerie forgot her concerns for any pain she might cause him and enjoyed the feel of his body, stroking him as he stroked her, wanting to get to know every inch of this man. She'd never felt the desire to merge with another as she did now. To become one with him.
When at last they parted, they were breathless.
"You look so beautiful, Val," he gasped. "You're glowing."
She suddenly realized she'd never seen his entire face at once without any bandages, except in the photographs hanging in the stable's tack room. "I'm glad I can see more of you," she said. "More of your face, I mean. I think that you glow, too."
"You're sure you like the way I look?" he asked.
"I love the way you look," she replied. "Besides, I wouldn't care if you looked like Freddy Krueger."
"You're certain about that?" he asked seriously.
She stared into his eyes. "Wyn, that's not the case, so it doesn't matter. You were handsome before, and you're handsome now."
He looked at her for a moment. "I'm still going to need some more operations," he said. "It'll take a long time. Do you think you could handle that?"
She playfully slapped him on the arm. "I'm a vet, remember?" she said. "Give me credit for knowing something about these things and being able to deal with them."
"Yeah," he agreed, "but you might enjoy leaving all that at work when you come home at night. You might get tired of coming home to more of it."
She shook her head. "Never," she said with fiery determination in her voice. "Not for a single minute. Not if I come home to you."
"You're very brave," he said. "Or very stupid." Then he grinned. "But I know you're not stupid."
"I'm neither," she said. "I'm in love."
He kissed her lips gently. "And I'm in love." He drew back and gazed at her steadily. "You know how I first knew?" he asked.
"When you saw me in my lab coat?" she joked.
He shook his head. "It was the stethoscope."
They both laughed, then he said, "I was certain when I stopped taking the shots."
