“Funny. I’ve never thought of Pa Handy as an artist before. I wonder what Ma would say about that. She still thinks Pa’s going to clear this mess away one day. She wants to plant a rose garden.”
“A rose garden? In the desert?”
“You can’t stay married to Pa Handy and not be a little crazy.”
“Does he sell any of this stuff?”
“Would anybody want to buy it?” Alice scoffed.
“Yup. I would.”
Jace swung open a rusty gate and headed along a path leading through the rubble and up to the bungalow door.
Alice followed him with a definite feeling of dread. “You don’t want to do this,” she whispered desperately. “Ma Handy’s the biggest gossip in Blake’s Folly.”
“I can survive that. Blake’s Folly has a population of fifty-four these days, if you count me in.”
“She’ll imagine all sorts of things if we come calling together.”
“So?”
“So? Jace, listen!”
He didn’t.
The door opened before he had even had a chance to knock. Ma had probably been observing them for the last half hour.
“Why Alice, what a nice surprise. Come in, come in. Take off your coats, make yourselves at home.” Ma’s eyes glittered as they unashamedly took Jace in from head to toe.
“We won’t be staying, Ma,” said Alice trying to prepare a quick escape. In another minute, she figured Ma would be asking Jace exactly what his intentions were. “Jace just wanted to ask Pa a question.”
But Alice realized she was only talking to herself. Ma had already linked her arm through Jace’s and was drawing him into a tiny overheated living room crowded with even stranger objects than those out in the yard.
“Of course you’re Jace, Alice’s new lodger. I’ve been hearing so much about you lately.” Ma Handy never did beat about the bush when on an information gathering mission.
Alice’s groan was barely audible, but Jace caught it. She could see by his sparkling eyes that he was actually enjoying himself.
“Welcome, both of you,” shouted Pa from a monstrous armchair in one corner of the room. On a low table in front of him were what looked to be around a thousand bolts, nuts, screws, springs, and wires. “Company’s just what we need. I’m having no luck putting this whoosits together anyway. Sure gets on my nerves.”
“What’s a whoosits actually supposed to be, Pa?” Alice asked weakly, her mind desperately whirling, searching for a safe subject of conversation. There was no telling what embarrassing things Ma would come up with when she had a mind to being obnoxiously nosy.
“Dunno, really,” said Pa scratching his head. “Just a little thing I picked up over Dulverton way, sitting out there on a pile of junk I went to see. Thought if I tinkered around a bit, it’d come to something.”
Search as she might, Alice couldn’t come up with a snappy response to that.
Ma Handy was still staring at Jace, though. She wasn’t going to let him off the hook now that he was in her lair. If anyone had a one-track mind, it sure was Ma.
“You’re a good looking man, too,” Ma now said. “I was just mentioning to Jane Grimes, only yesterday, that it was about time Alice here had a little company in that big old house of hers. I don’t know, but I’d be scared out of my wits out there all on my very own with no one within shouting distance.”
“Ma … ” began Alice, her face pained, but there was no stopping the flow.
“And, of course, you’re robust and healthy, too. That must be a comfort. It’s just the kind of man Alice needs.”
Alice wished with all her might that the ground would open up under her feet or — even better — under Ma’s. Of course it didn’t: you never could rely on natural phenomena when you needed them. She barely dared shoot a miserable glance in Jace’s direction. What could he be thinking?
“Of course, Alice,” continued Pa inexorably. “Looks don’t matter at all when you meet the right person. Nor age, neither. Look at me. I’m a good six years older than Ma.”
“You’d never know it,” Jace confirmed, his face perfectly deadpan. It was true. Pa looked pretty much like Ma. Both of them were shapeless, ageless, and shameless.
“Now you’ll sit down and have a cup of coffee and a piece of pie,” said Ma.
“No, Ma. Thanks, but … ” Alice might as well have saved her breath.
“Of course you will. Fresh apple pie. Just baked it this afternoon. No one walking out that door without having a taste of it.”
Even if it had to be at gunpoint.
“I was wondering if you wanted to sell some of the wood you have outside,” Jace said to Pa as he took the seat Ma offered him. “Some of the paneling on the side of Alice’s house needs replacing and I could get it done in a few hours if I had the boards.”
“Jace … ” Alice began again, then stopped. Ma was looking at her curiously.
“Alice. Don’t tell me this young man is fixing that old dump up of yours. Well, that’s mighty nice of him.”
“Yes,” mumbled Alice, meekly. “Isn’t that what good looking, healthy, robust men are for?” But sarcasm was wasted on Ma who’d never recognize it in a million years. What Alice really wanted to do, of course, was rant, stamp her foot and tell Jace he’d done enough already. That it was, after all, her house, her property, her life. Yet she knew how hopeless her position was.
She certainly couldn’t win in the face of Jace’s determination. Or even Ma’s. Right now, Ma was taking in every single word of the conversation, and before tomorrow’s dawn cracked, every single soul in Blake’s Folly, living or dead, would have heard a totally adulterated and highly dramatic version of it. And cooking up a deeply satisfying, totally incorrect love story as well. One with a happy end, of course.
That’s all she needed, all right. To be the center of everyone’s attention.
And what would they all say when Jace picked up and left? Went roaring back to Chicago, to the good life? To Tanya?
That she, poor Alice, was just too much of a crank to be able to hold onto a man for any longer than a few short weeks?
Phooey.
Chapter Nine
At nine-fifteen in the morning, a horrendous grinding noise, comparable to that of an ancient dump truck on a corrugated tin roof, was heard on the road. It was only the arrival of Pa Handy’s old pick-up, delivering the wood Jace had requested. After that there was no easy way of getting rid of Pa; he stuck around like glue, feigning interest in Jace’s home improvement scheme but in reality, on another fact-finding mission. No doubt Ma had told him to come back with some new juicy gossip — or else. When Alice caught the silly, sheepish look on his face, she knew her suspicions were right.
Knowing that the slightest comment she made to Jace or even the tiniest look in his direction was bound to be misinterpreted, she decided the best defense against an attack of local curiosity was to remain safe and sound in her study. Not that she was able to get any work done. Knowing her territory had been invaded by two males had her fuming like a badly lit coal stove. Besides, the conversation the men were having outside — if such a thing could be called conversation — was impossible to block out.
“Fixing up the old veranda, eh?”
“That’s right.”
“Sure does need fixing up. Everyone here in town’s been saying that for years.”
Jace’s only answer to that was a volley of hammering. Pa, however, was a patient individual when he had to be. He waited for the next pause.
“Take you years to fix this here whole place up. Yep, years. You thinking of doing all that?”
“Depends what you mean by fixing up.”
Jace had hedged that one nicely, thought Alice with a grim, masochistic sort of satisfaction.
“Well, at least a year or two, or even three. Think you’ll be around that long?”
If Jace had answered that question, Alice wasn’t able to hear over the hammering.
Finally, after
an eternity or two, the dump truck whipped up a cloud of dust and carbon monoxide that violently and completely blocked out the cerulean sky, and moved back over the corrugated tin roof in the direction of home.
Only now did Alice dare make an appearance.
Jace was sizing up the work to be done on the eastern wall. This was crazy, it really was. Why was he willing to put in so much work on a house that wasn’t his? It wasn’t as if things were really steamy between the two of them.
Take what happened last night, after they’d come home from Pa and Ma Handy’s: sandwiches and a glass of wine in the kitchen. What had she expected? Steamy kisses? More of that passion she knew was so near to the surface? But he’d made no move to touch her. He’d yawned, and said it was time to turn in. Well, she wasn’t going to beg him to stay up with her, was she? Of course not. She wasn’t going to put her arms around him and kiss him again, just the way she had done before. Certainly not. Not when he showed nothing but indifference.
They’d climbed the steps toward their bedrooms. Five sleepy dogs followed.
“Like a shepherd with his flock,” Jace had said lightly.
Alice’s heart had been beating wildly with the intimacy of the simple act of walking up the steps together in the dark of the night. But when they were finally on the landing, Jace had simply bent over her, kissed her gently on the forehead. A nice gesture. A friendly one. The gesture of one good chum to another.
“Good night, Alice.”
She had stared up at him, but he’d looked calm and mild. And impersonal.
“Good night, Jace,” she’d managed to say, also keeping her voice polite, cool, calm. Not betraying the craving raging through her, not giving away her confusion.
“Sleep well.”
“You too.”
He’d turned and, with a little half wave, gone into his room; and she’d walked down the long corridor leading to her room, her heart heavy.
So that was it, then. She’d ruined everything. It had been entirely her fault. She was the one who had invented the totally fictional romance with Brad the rancher. Just because she’d been jealous of an unknown woman named Tanya.
Or perhaps that wasn’t the reason Jace seemed so indifferent. Perhaps he’d decided he didn’t want her anymore; that a lightning-quick affair with her just wasn’t worth all the effort. So why did she feel so miserable? Isn’t this what she’d asked for? Demanded, even! She should be grateful. And relieved. Danger had been avoided.
Then why was Jace out there again this morning? Why was he still working on her house? What would he get out of this? She had to know.
She stepped out into the yard. “Look, Jace, how about if I help?”
Jace looked up from the wood he was contemplating. “I don’t need your help. Two people doing this would constitute a crowd.” He bent over one of the boards, measured it.
Alice continued to stand there, watching the way his body moved. There was a slight tear in his jeans. Why did she have the sudden impulse to move in closer, lean down and touch his leg, just there. Feel his skin between the slits of fabric? She couldn’t miss the way his muscles worked either. His arms in the rolled back sleeves were smooth, strong, looking wonderful.
Stop drooling.
“Jace, I can’t let you do this alone! It makes me feel so guilty.”
He looked up from what he was doing. Looked at her more closely. “That soft red sweater suits you,” he said mildly. “You look good.”
She waited, her heart thudding. Waited for more. Waited for him to step in her direction.
He didn’t. He simply looked down again, went on measuring. “Why should you feel guilty, Alice? Did it ever cross your mind that I like doing this? That I’m actually having fun? I haven’t done anything like this for years, not since my student days when I spent a whole summer helping a friend restore a rotten Victorian wreck of a house. Now I realize how much I’ve missed using my hands to construct something.”
She had to be satisfied with the answer. Either that, or just stand here gaping at him and wringing her hands, feeling perfectly foolish. And lusting after the man. Wishing that one of them would dare make the first move toward some intimacy.
• • •
“Attractive new habit you’ve picked up. Just what any elegant woman needs.” Rose Badger wrinkled her fine little nose and groaned. “Alice, sweetie, since when have you been a nail-biter? Refusing to wear nail polish is one thing, but destroying your look is another neurosis altogether.”
Alice jumped in her seat. She hadn’t even been aware that she had been chewing on her thumb. She contemplated the damage, and then shrugged. “I don’t suppose that one half-eaten nail is going to dramatically change my so-called ‘look’ very much.”
Rose sighed, raised the huge bowl full of mashed avocado she was mixing. “Perhaps an avocado face mask would work wonders?”
“Is that what you’re planning to do with that mess?”
“Mess? I’ll have you know this is a one hundred percent true beauty bomb. Lance is taking me dancing tonight.”
“Lance?” Alice raised her eyebrows, momentarily intrigued. “Lance Potter? Is he still in the picture? I thought you’d pretty well run him out of town with a double-barreled lipstick tube.”
“Alice, dear,” said Rose, infinite patience in her voice. “This is the civilized state of Nevada, not the Wild West. Actually,” she smiled cunningly, “it doesn’t do a man any harm to show him he’s not indispensable. As far as I can guess, no woman ever walked out on Lance before.” She snorted. “If they had, he’d have learned how to behave long ago.”
“So it’s working?” asked Alice with a smile.
“Let’s say I’m letting myself be spoiled rotten. Flowers, the works.” Rose looked very pleased with herself.
Alice’s eyes opened wide. “Flowers in Blake’s Folly? I am impressed.” Then she hunched back in her seat and sighed longingly.
Rose’s eyes narrowed. “How are things going with that sexy, passionate lodger of yours?”
“Passionate? Don’t let your imagination run away with you.”
“Am I? You’ve been sitting here, in my living room, not saying a word for over half an hour. Whenever I ask you a question, you look blank, as if you’re a thousand miles away. That’s not normal behavior, not even for you. What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on. Really. Why are you grilling me like this?” Alice stared off into the distance.
“Romance with Jace is giving you problems?” Rose rolled her eyes. “Of course it is. Why even ask?”
Alice met Rose’s eyes with defiance. “Oh honestly, Rose. Do you always have to dream up romances? Not everyone thinks the same way you do, you know!”
Rose shrugged, looked down and began stirring the avocado mash as if Alice had said nothing at all.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Alice reached out and touched her friend’s hand apologetically. “I don’t mean to be so touchy. It’s just … ” She sighed.
“Just what?”
Alice took a deep breath. “Look, I’ve been independent Alice Treemont for years now, okay?”
“Okay. So?”
“This is hard for me to admit, Rose.” She swallowed. “I don’t even know how to put it. Let’s just say it’s even difficult for me to confide in you.”
“Could have fooled me,” muttered Rose sarcastically.
“Not because I don’t trust you, but because I never tell anyone what I’m feeling. And now, here I am, confused as hell. I don’t know what’s happening to me. As far as Jace is concerned, I mean.” She raised her hands in a vague, meaningless gesture. “I guess you could say I’ve got a terrible crush on him. Like a teenager. Only I’m no teen.” Her cheeks colored and she looked at Rose beseechingly.
“I don’t believe you. It’s no crush.”
Alice sighed deeply. “No? All right. No crush. A crush sounds silly. I admit everything. I want him. I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t think about anything els
e and that’s undignified and ridiculous. For an adult, anyway. I hate being like this.”
“Emotion is emotion. Caring about someone, wanting someone has nothing to do with age or being an adult.”
“That’s what one part of my brain keeps saying to the other, but the other side just doesn’t agree.”
Rose’s lips curled into a faintly mocking curve. “And what does the other side say?”
“That this is all one-sided. That nothing intimate is going on. How could there be? There’s Tanya.”
“Who’s Tanya?”
“His woman back in Chicago. With a name like Tanya, I’m getting all sorts of seductive images.”
“Tanya from Chicago doesn’t sound good, I’ll admit that.” Rose’s face had taken on a pensive expression and she looked down at her own fingernails hungrily.
“You see?”
“Almost. How does Jace feel about you?”
Alice looked at Rose as though she’d just started swinging from the overhead light. “How am I supposed to know that?”
“Take a wild guess.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“Ma Handy has been telling everyone that Jace couldn’t keep his eyes off you the whole time you sat in that tacky living room of hers!”
“The cow! She didn’t!” Alice stopped, and then stared. “He couldn’t?”
Rose nodded sagely. “So Ma says. And Alice, if you don’t want Ma gossiping about you, she’s the last person you should go calling on.”
“It was Jace’s fault. He wanted to buy some wood from Pa to fix my house up.”
“So I heard. Everyone in town has been talking about the way he’s propping up that ruin of yours.”
“Lord help me! Isn’t that just typical. Jace only started doing it a day ago!”
“News travels fast over two square miles, most of them uninhabited. And I must say, the news sounds good to me.”
“Fixing up a house? Even a good friend would do that.”
“Oh you think so, do you? Stop dreaming. And stop worrying.”
All About Charming Alice Page 10
