Summer Jazz

by Webb, Peggy

  Hunter sprawled in an old stuffed chair. Its upholstery was worn and its cushions sagged, but it had the familiar fit and comfort of a favorite pair of bedroom slippers. And it was a bone of contention between Hunter's mother and her uncle. Hunter rubbed his hand across the worn arm and smiled. His mother had tried everything, including threats to cart the old chair off and throw it into Ray Hubbard Lake. But Uncle Mickey had remained staunch, declaring that a man's bedroom should be sacred, and untouched by meddling nieces.

  "I heard you had a special pea tarty at the warehouse today," Uncle Mickey said. "I knew you'd have things to tell me."

  "It's working. Uncle Mickey. Mattie's falling in love with me."

  Uncle Mickey smiled. "Any woman in her right mind would."

  "She hasn't changed all that much, you know. She's still spontaneous and spirited and quick to laugh. I can almost believe she's the same Mattie Houston."

  "But she's not, Hunter. Don't make the mistake of building your love on a dream."

  Hunter ran his hands through his hair. "I know. She's not really the same. But neither am I. We've both been around."

  "Take my advice. Forget all that, Hunter. Take what you have now, who you are now, and go from there."

  "You give great advice, Uncle Mickey. Especially for an inexperienced old bachelor." He gave his uncle a sly grin.

  "Is that a leading statement?"

  "Yes. Tell me about Mrs. Cleary."

  "Who told you?"

  "Phillip Houston."

  Uncle Mickey crossed his bony knees and began his story. "I fell in love with Janet many years ago. We had an affair. Like most young people in love, we made all the plans, dreamed all the dreams. Then the war came along. I was reported missing in action. When I got home, she'd married Herbert Cleary. I put her out of my mind, lost track of her until she became Phillip Houston's housekeeper. That was a long time before Phillip moved next door. He and I go way back, you know."

  Hunter knew. His uncle and Phillip had formed a fast friendship when they were college roommates. He'd often heard stories of their escapades. "Anyway," Uncle Mickey continued, "seeing Janet again after all those years, I knew the spark was still there. She knew it, too. We tried to deny it. We started up again, excusing our actions by telling ourselves that she deserved what little clandestine pleasure we could find. Her marriage was bad. Herbert was mean to her, mental cruelty. I don't know what would have happened if Herbert hadn't gotten sick. He became an invalid. We broke off the affair."

  "Herbert Cleary's been dead for years, hasn't he? Why didn't the two of you get back together?"

  "Guilt. We both felt guilty, as if we'd been the cause of Herbert's illness."

  "That's foolish."

  "That's what Phillip said. But we waited too long to find that out. The guilt changed both of us. I disappeared into my world of toys, and Janet suppressed all her sexuality under starched aprons and starched attitudes."

  "She's just next door. If you still love her, go after her."

  Uncle Mickey smiled. "I guess it's never too late for love, but I'm used to the idea of being too old."

  "I don't ever intend to be too old for love. I’ll still be chasing Mattie when I'm ninety-five, even if I have to do it in a wheelchair." Hunter laughed at the idea. "It might be fun. I might even try it before I'm ninety-five."

  Suddenly he turned serious. "All that's not why I came up here, Uncle Mickey. I've got to find out why Mattie left me ten years ago. All I know is that it happened after Victoria came to Dallas. Every time I ask Mattie about it, she becomes furious. Somehow I think Victoria is tied into it. Did you see her at all that summer?"

  "Once. No." He paused thoughtfully. "Twice. The first time, I'd gone over to play dominoes with Phillip. Victoria was back, more beautiful than ever. And cold. That woman had ice water in her veins. I don't think she even had a heart."

  "I guess you knew her before I met Mattie."

  "Yes. I'd seen her on several occasions—at her wedding, right after Mattie was born, and two or three times when she'd fly into Dallas and drop Mattie on Phillip's doorstep. She never enjoyed a conversation unless it was about herself, and as far as I could tell, she was never interested in anything except preserving her face and body. And collecting men. She kept herself surrounded by young studs. I think she believed they'd keep her from growing old."

  "I never saw her as anything except a beautiful, charming woman."

  Uncle Mickey snorted. "Every beautiful woman is charming when you're only twenty-six. Besides, you were seeing Mattie's mother through the eyes of love."

  "You mentioned another time."

  "What?"

  Hunter smiled indulgently. In the way of creative people, his great uncle Mickey was absentminded. Of course, Hunter reasoned, old age could be a factor, but it would be a very small one in this case. Both Uncle Mickey and Phillip Houston kept alert by being interested in the world around them.

  "You said you saw Victoria twice that summer," Hunter prompted.

  "Oh, yes. She'd asked if she could use your hot tub. One day while you and Mattie were gone, she called and said she wanted to come over. Said she had a couple of friends she wanted to bring. Naturally, I said yes. They were both men. One of them was good looking and young as you are. The other didn't look like Victoria's type at all. Sort of weather beaten and dried up looking. He was carrying a bunch of equipment."

  "What sort of equipment?"

  "I didn't pay that much attention. Tools or something. I thought maybe he was a handyman come to fix the lights in the pool. I was on my way to play golf with Phillip. I just sort of waved and passed on by."

  "Would Victoria have known that you and Phillip would be playing golf?"

  "Could be. It was no secret. As a matter of fact, we might even have planned it the day I went over to play dominoes. Victoria was in and out that day. Restless seeming."

  Hunter made a steeple of his fingers while he digested these latest bits of information. He didn't have much to go on, but what he did have was beginning to make a very ugly picture—a beautiful, selfish woman who didn't want to grow old, who was possibly jealous of her daughter's youth and loveliness, a woman who liked young men.

  Could she have wanted him for herself? Why? She was a famous high-fashion model. Surely she could have had her pick of men. Apparently did, from what Uncle Mickey had said. And if she'd wanted to break up him and Mattie for that reason, why hadn't she made a play for him, especially after Mattie had returned the ring? He remembered his brief meetings with Victoria. She'd been nothing but pleasant to him. The puzzle pieces weren't fitting together right.

  He saw Uncle Mickey attempt to stifle a yawn.

  "I've kept you up late. I'm sorry, Uncle Mickey."

  "It's my bedtime." He turned back the covers and winked at his great nephew. "You've given me something to dream about. Yessir, in her day that Janet was something. A lovely body, that woman had. And a farming chase. Yessir, a farming chase." Uncle Mickey climbed into bed. "Good night, Hunter."

  "Good night, Uncle Mickey. And thanks."

  Hunter went to his room, but was too restless to go to bed. Walking to his window, he looked toward Mattie's house. There was still a light in her bedroom window.

  He picked up his phone and dialed her number.

  "Hello."

  "Mattie. This is your teddy bear man."

  "Hunter!" He heard the smile in her voice, caught the excited lilt. Hope bloomed in his soul.

  "Is Henry being a suitable stand-in?"

  "For what?"

  "For me."

  She laughed. "He's sitting over there in a chair, like a proper gentleman."

  "I'm going to fire that bear. He's supposed to be holding your hand and whispering sweet promises to fill all the empty places in your life."

  She hesitated, then spoke with false cheerfulness. "How do you know I have empty places?"

  "Because I do, too."

  He gripped the phone, not speaking. The truth th
at shouted between them almost overpowered the familiar roar of misunderstanding.

  "What are we going to do, Hunter?"

  Her voice was such a small whisper that he barely could hear her.

  "We're going to fill those empty spaces with love, Mattie."

  His hand clenched on the phone as he waited for her reply. Again the silence lengthened. Finally, he heard a soft click. Mattie wasn't ready to face the truth. He held the dead receiver to his ear until the electronic buzzing forced him to hang up.

  He walked back to the window and looked across the hedge. Mattie’s light went out. He smiled.

  "The dark won't make the truth go away. You're going to be mine, Mattie Houston."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  After the teddy-bear picnic, rehearsals became a cat and mouse game for Hunter and Mattie. They took turns being the cat, each bold in pursuit. Sometimes Mattie, dressed in clothes that would have vamped old Ebenezer Scrooge, would pop into Hunter's dressing room, drape herself on the edge of his dressing table, and play the coquette.

  Hunter didn't care what her motives were; he was always delighted and amused.

  "Hunter," she said on one of those occasions, "if I were a brazen woman, I'd kidnap you and take you far, far away."

  "Why, Mattie?"

  "I'd use you for my amusement."

  "Are we talking fun and games?"

  "No. Puppet shows. I especially adore your bear scenes."

  "I'm willing to do a bare scene with you any time. Your place or mine?"

  "It's no challenge if you're willing. The chase is more fun than the catch."

  "If you think that, Mattie, then it's been too long since you've seen my catch."

  The cat had hastened from the mouse's dressing room.

  Then there were the times when Hunter did the stalking. He would stop in the middle of a puppet show, pull Mattie onto the stage, and catch her up in the magical, fanciful world of puppeteering.

  Or he would slip up behind her during a rehearsal break, turn her around, and kiss her passionately. Then he'd release her and say, "Just getting my day's quota of loving."

  The rest of the benefit cast became accustomed to their scandalous antics. Some of them were amused, others were tolerant, and still others made bets about who would do the chasing at the next rehearsal.

  Mattie kept telling herself that she believed in Hunter's treachery, but each time she saw him, she believed more and more in his integrity. He was always totally honest with her. He made public declarations of his intent. He never pretended to be anything except the fun-loving, carefree rake that he was. And in spite of his tarnished reputation, she learned to trust him. She knew to expect the unexpected from him, though in serious matters such as the benefit, he was dedicated, enthusiastic, and hard-working. In spite of the game he played with her, he put together a professional quality puppet show.

  There was also the matter of his dream. She knew what it was like to dream. She also knew that too few people have the courage to pursue their dreams. Both she and Hunter had worked hard to make their career dreams come true. She admired him for that.

  Still, she denied she was falling in love again. She told herself that her plan was working, that she could go back to Paris after the benefit, all her old scores settled, Hunter and the past finally put to rest.

  Hunter knew better. Day by day he could sense the change in Mattie. He gauged her response to his kisses; he watched a blossoming of trust; he sensed the beginnings of forgiveness. Their time was coming. Soon.

  Never one to sit back and wait, Hunter boldly carried out his campaign to win her. Every move he made was calculated. He knew when to be passionate and when to be tender. He knew when to be excessive and when to be steadfast. Mattie was the unfinished part of his dream, and nothing could stop him from fulfilling that dream.

  o0o

  Two days before the benefit concert. Hunter called Jackson, Mississippi.

  "Hello." The voice at the other end of the line was lilting, cheerful, and every bit as beautiful as the woman it belonged to – Jessie Wentworth, heiress to the Wentworth Department stores, one of the biggest suppliers for Chadwick Toys.

  "Jessie, this is your favorite toy maker."

  "Hunter! You sound wonderful! What are you doing? When are you coming to see us?"

  He grinned at his childhood friend's excited chatter. "Us? Does that mean you're still married to that psychology professor?"

  "Absolutely. You want to hear a secret. Hunter?"

  "We've always shared secrets, Jessie."

  "Blake's still magic."

  Hunter's laughter was pure joy. If love could triumph for those two, he decided, it could certainly be as kind to him and Mattie. "How are the children?"

  "Perfect angels. Baby Jess said her first word yesterday. Dada. The way Blake acted, you'd have thought she'd quoted the Gettysburg Address. Your namesake is more like you every day. A little friend of his at nursery school called himself a daredevil, and Chad declared that he was the 'mos' devil.' We'd love to see you. Hunter."

  "You will. Pack a bag, Jessie. I want you and Blake to fly out to Dallas. There's somebody I want you to meet."

  "Is it a woman? Has the most eligible bachelor in all of Dallas finally been caught?"

  "It's a woman. Mattie Houston."

  "The jazz pianist?"

  "The same."

  "Hunter! You've been holding out on me."

  "I'm going to marry her, Jessie. I gave my blessing to you and Blake. Now I want yours. Mattie and I are in a benefit concert Friday night. Can you come?"

  "We’ll be on a plane tomorrow."

  o0o

  Mattie heard the music even before she opened her dressing room door. There was no mistaking the sound. She knew she would find music boxes. With her arms full of costumes and makeup, she nudged the door open with her hip and backed straight into Hunter.

  He pulled her close. "If you keep this up, the concert will have to go on without its star."

  She laughed. Nothing could daunt her tonight. She felt as if champagne were bubbling through her veins. Performances always did that to her. "If you don't let go, the star will have to perform in blue jeans. You're squashing my bugle beads."

  He gave her one last squeeze, then let go. "Is that what they're called now?"

  "You're crazy." She turned to hang up her clothes, and found herself surrounded by gardenias. They were everywhere—in baskets hanging from the ceiling, in vases on the dressing table, in cellophane wrappers on the floor. And among the gardenias, the carrousel music boxes spun round and round, tinkling their magic tunes.

  The smile started in her heart and spread to her lips. She lifted her eyes to Hunter's face. "You did this."

  "Yes."

  "For old time's sake, Hunter?"

  "No." He cupped her face. "For love's sake, Mattie. I love you."

  He kissed her swiftly. It was over before she had time to gather her scattered wits.

  "Break a leg, Mattie," he said. Then he was gone.

  She stared at the closed door without really seeing it. Hunter filled her vision, arrogant, bold, witty, charming, and impossibly handsome in his tuxedo. His words echoed in her mind. I love you, I love you, I love you.

  She sank down on her knees and buried her face in a bouquet of gardenias. "It can't be true," she whispered. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way."

  The sweet perfume of the flowers filled her senses, and Hunter filled her heart. All of her carefully laid plans came crashing down, and she knew she'd been caught in the web of her own deceit. She'd flirted with him, thrown herself at him, until she finally got what she wanted. He'd fallen in love.

  She lifted her head, fighting back the tears. What a fine scheme it had been. She'd have her revenge by breaking his heart. But she hadn't figured on her own emotions. She hadn't allowed for the irresistible pull of first love. And now not one heart would be broken, but two. The first time around she'd given her love to a reckless young dreamer, and th
e second time around she'd given it to a faithless womanizer.

  Life was full of small ironies.

  The tap on her door brought her out of her reverie. "Twenty minutes to curtain, Mattie," Jo Ann called.

  With the self-control befitting her position as queen of jazz, Mattie put her problems aside and readied herself for the concert. She swept her hair into an elegant French twist, made up her face with expert swiftness, and zipped into a tight-fitting, champagne-colored beaded evening gown.

  She sparkled when she walked onstage. Even before she hit the first note, the audience was enthralled. As the glorious sounds of Mattie's jazz filled the auditorium, not a single person knew the struggle that was going on in her heart.

  o0o

  After the concert, Mattie signed autographs until Jo Ann rescued her.

  "You were brilliant, Mattie." Jo Ann deftly cut a path through the crush of people. "But we have one more show to go. I don't want you exhausted before tomorrow's matinee."

  They finally escaped the crowd and entered the dimly lit hallway backstage. Mattie stopped outside her dressing room door.

  "Don't worry, Jo Ann," she said. "I’ll be in fine form tomorrow."

  Jo Ann nodded and hurried off.

  A deep voice spoke from the shadows. "You always are in fine form, Mattie. I'm especially fond of your form in that dress. "

  Hunter was leaning against the doorway to his dressing room. As he walked toward her Mattie thought she'd never seen a man wear a tuxedo with such flamboyance and style. She was so mesmerized by him that she didn't notice the man and woman with him.

  She covered her attraction by resorting to game playing. "You're not so bad yourself. You look good enough to eat, as a matter of fact." She put her hand on the doorknob and smiled at him over her shoulder. "And I plan to."

  "Promises, promises, Mattie."

  "Have we come at a bad time, Hunter?" The voice was beautiful, musical, and definitely feminine.

  Mattie whirled around. The woman standing beside Hunter had to be a model. Those cheekbones and that black silk hair made her eyes look like sparkling green gems. A savage burst of jealousy ripped through Mattie. Why did he have to flaunt his women in her face? Especially after that recent declaration of love. He was as insincere as a cat in a bird sanctuary. And just as dangerous.