by Sharon Sala
“Ahmeelya!”
Amelia flew down the front stairs, gasping as she dashed into the dining room. “Yes, Aunt Witty?”
“Don’t run. Don’t shout. Breakfast is ready. And you’re already late.”
Wilhemina shoved a warm plate in front of her niece and frowned, running a practiced eye over Amelia’s pale pink shirtwaist, frowning even more as she noticed that it picked up too much color from her cheeks. A woman couldn’t be flashy. It wasn’t ladylike to call attention to one’s self.
Rosemary poured herself another cup of coffee and slipped into the chair beside her niece. “My, but you’re looking pretty this morning, dear. You remind me of myself when I was a girl. I had more beaus than you could shake a stick at. Why, I remember the time…”
“Hush, Rosemary,” Wilhemina said sharply. “You’ll give the girl ideas.”
Amelia hid a smile. She was twenty-nine years old, not nine. And as for ideas, Tyler Savage had already put more into her head than she could cope with.
“I’ll bet you both had your share,” Amelia said diplomatically.
Her Aunt Witty’s blush came as a big surprise. Almost as much as the fact that she actually smiled.
Rosemary giggled. “Oh, Willy, do you remember Homer Ledbetter? He had the biggest crush on you when you were…”
The smile on Wilhemina’s face suddenly pursed. “Oh yes! I remember Homer well. He took Sissy Manion to the school picnic instead of me. I never did forgive him. After all, he’d promised.” Her mouth pursed unforgivingly. “Let that be a lesson to you, Amelia. You can’t trust men.”
Rosemary wasn’t to be deterred. “Pooh! Homer Ledbetter wasn’t even close to being a man. If I remember correctly, he hadn’t been out of knickers more than three or four years. Besides…everyone knew why he took Sissy. She used to let the boys…”
“Rosemary!”
Amelia grinned as she swallowed her last bite of scrambled egg, washing it down with a gulp of juice.
“I’ve got to go,” she said. “Have a nice day, okay? I’ll see you both this evening.”
“Anyway,” Rosemary continued as if there’d never been a breach in the conversation. “If you hadn’t been such a persimmon about things, he’d have asked you out again.”
“Well, maybe I didn’t want him to,” Wilhemina argued.
It was the last thing Amelia heard as she made a dash for the car. The ancient Chrysler coughed twice before the motor turned. With an aging wheeze, it came to life as she put it in reverse and backed from the driveway. She could hardly wait for the day when she climbed into a car that belonged to her. One that started with the turn of a key, not on a hiccup and a prayer. And one that would get her farther than Tulip Public Library.
Tyler shifted gears as he drove into town, slowing down in accordance with the speed zone sign that used to be standing at the city limits. The sign had blown away during the last hurricane more than fifteen years ago, but the sign-post was still there. It was just understood that the 35 mph limit was still in ordinance.
The wind blew through the open windows of his truck, cooling his sweat-drenched shirt just enough to give it a sticky, clammy feel against his skin. Last night’s rain had been a welcome relief, but the day’s heat was making the weather just short of unbearable. He glanced down at his wristwatch and made a quick decision. It was already close to noon and he still hadn’t made it to the fields. A flat on one of the duals of his 4850 John Deere had changed his plans. It had taken the better part of an hour to wrestle the huge tractor tire off the axle and another ten minutes just to get it into the back of a flatbed truck.
He turned down main street and headed for the filling station, knowing that it would take some time to get the flat fixed. The least he could get out of this morning was a decent meal at Sherry’s Steak and Soup. It wasn’t gourmet fare, but it beat his own cooking all to hell.
Amelia shifted the phone to her other ear as she leaned over the library counter and turned the sign on the door to read Closed.
“No, Aunt Witty, it’s my fault, not yours. I forgot to pick up my lunch this morning. And I know you two have garden club this afternoon. I’ve already decided to go over to Sherry’s Steak and Soup and have a salad.” She rolled her eyes as her aunt began a tirade on the dangers of too much fast food and grease. “I said, I’m having a salad. And yes, I’ll watch my waist.” Although I don’t know who besides you two will care.
She grabbed for her purse as she hung up the phone, unwilling to linger over their conversation and give her aunt time to make further suggestions concerning her food.
Jenny Michaels tucked a pencil behind her ear and shifted her chewing gum to the other side of her cheek. “Hey, Tyler Dean. I haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays. Sit anywhere you like. I’ll be right with you.”
“Just bring me a chicken fry and the works,” he said.
“Hey, Cookie, chicken fry with all the trimmings,” she shouted from across the room.
Amelia came in the side door and slid onto a bar stool just as Jenny was about to pick up an order from the kitchen. Jenny paused and whipped her pencil out from behind her ear.
“Hey there, Amelia. I’d better take your order before the cook gets bogged down in burgers and fries. What can I get ’ya?”
“A chef salad,” she answered. “Oh! And don’t forget I want…”
Jenny grinned. “I know. You want your boiled egg quartered. No ham. Only chicken. And fat-free ranch dressing on the side.”
Amelia frowned. “Am I in that much of a rut?”
“I don’t know,” Jenny said and then winked. “Are you?”
“Just bring me my salad,” Amelia said wryly. “Save the psychiatrist’s couch attitude for someone who needs it.”
Jenny leaned forward. “Speaking of couches…there’s someone I’d like to get on one.”
Amelia turned, her eyes following the direction of Jenny’s pencil and then nearly fell off the bar stool as Tyler Savage stared at them from across the room.
Oh God! He’s here! What do I do? What if he…? “Don’t get in such a snit,” she told herself. “Remember…he doesn’t know a thing.”
Misunderstanding the pep talk Amelia had given to herself, Jenny raised her eyebrows several inches. “That’s not what I hear. I hear he knows plenty. And if I had my way, he’d be teaching some of it to me.”
Tyler shifted uncomfortably under the force of their gaze. It was blatantly obvious that he was the focus of their conversation. He knew Jenny well, but he couldn’t place the woman at the counter. She looked familiar, but she wasn’t exactly his type. Her hair was wound up in a tight little knot on top of her head. Even worse, her glasses had long since gone out of style and her makeup was nonexistent. And that dress. Lord! His mother used to wear dresses like that. If that wasn’t enough, the way she’d ordered her food all sorted out and separate seemed a little prissy. Seemed a big waste of time considering it was all going to the same place.
Jenny elbowed Amelia who quickly turned her back on Tyler’s intent gaze. “I think he noticed we were talking about him.”
“He’d have to be blind not to. You were pointing.”
Jenny shrugged as she turned in Amelia’s order and picked Tyler’s up to deliver. “Doesn’t pay to be bashful, believe me.”
Amelia buried her face in her hands, hoping that this meal would pass with no hitches. There was no way he should be able to recognize her as Amber. After all, librarians didn’t vamp, they shelved.
Tyler grinned at the waitress as his food was placed in front of him. The aroma was enticing, and so was the thought of tonight. He could hardly wait to get to Savannah and pick up Amber for their night out.
“Be needing anything else?” Jenny asked with a wink. “Anything at all?”
Tyler grinned even wider. He knew Jenny was flirting, but it was a nonthreatening type of flirt and one with which he was very accomplished. “Now if I do, Jen, you’ll be the one I’ll call.”
Jenny smiled and then hurried away.
He dug into his food with relish. Jenny was nice. But she definitely didn’t have what Amber Champion had, including long legs, a tight, skimpy red outfit and a pair of the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. Or were they blue? He tried to remember, but it was no use and it didn’t really matter. After tonight he’d know a whole lot more about Amber Champion than the color of her eyes.
Three
It hadn’t been easy to choose a dress for her date with Tyler because the salesgirl kept staring at the dresses Amelia was trying on. They were nothing like the plain shirtwaists that she usually wore, but Amber didn’t wear beige shirtwaists and that’s who Tyler had asked out on a date.
Amelia turned first one way and then the other, staring at her transformation in the full-length mirror in her room. The dress looked even better than she remembered in the store. Granted it had elbow-length sleeves, a square neckline that was only modestly revealing and a rather unremarkable length to the skirt. It did fall neatly below her knees some two or three inches.
But it was red. And it was tight. And it was nothing Amelia Beauchamp would have been caught dead wearing. However, that point was moot. She hadn’t bought it for Amelia. She’d purchased the drop-dead dress for Amber and her date with Tyler Savage.
Getting out of the house dressed like this would be tricky. It would be even more difficult catching a ride with Raelene without being seen in a fire-engine red dress, but she had a plan. Her hair and makeup could be done in the car on the way to Savannah, just as she did every night she worked. And she’d wear her all-weather coat over the dress. It wasn’t a good plan. But it was the only one she had.
The bed frame creaked in the room down the hall while a floorboard creaked in the one opposite. Amelia sighed with relief. The aunts were in their rooms and would be out for the night. There was something to be said for ritualistic routines after all.
Giving herself one last glance in the mirror, she all but wiggled with anticipation. Now all she needed was a whiff of perfume, red to match her dress, and the hope that tonight would be all that she’d dreamed.
But when Amelia slipped on her raincoat, she frowned. It didn’t conceal as much of her appearance as she’d hoped. A good three inches of tight red skirt showed beneath its hem.
Oh well, she reminded herself, if she was lucky, and she had been so far, no one would even see her. She grabbed her shoes and made for the stairs, taking them two at a time in her stocking feet. It was only after she was outside and on the porch with the front door safely locked behind her, that she slipped on the slender black sling-back heels that were a remnant from her college days.
The first star of evening was already out although it wasn’t truly dark. Night air lifted the hem of her coat, reminding her that haste would be wise. The less seen of this red dress, the better.
Effie Dettenberg stood on the back stoop of her house, peering nervously into the evening shadows. Maurice wasn’t home. It wasn’t like him to be out so late and she didn’t know what to do. If she called the police, they’d be angry, just like they were the last time she’d called. But a woman had rights. She paid her taxes. If she needed assistance, the police were the ones who should come to her rescue.
However, Tulip’s finest didn’t think much of hunting Miss Effie’s black tomcat. Especially during the spring and summer months. They’d tried the best way they knew how to delicately explain to Miss Effie that during this time of year it was a tomcat’s nature to do what he did best, and that was to tomcat. It was a known fact that every year several litters of baby kittens in Tulip persistently bore marked resemblances to the wily old tom.
Effie wandered off the porch and into her yard, her gaze fixed on the low hanging bushes surrounding her property. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.”
And then her voice quavered, ending on a high-pitched squeak as she looked around the corner of her house to the one across the street. Amelia Beauchamp had just slipped out of the house and was standing barefoot in plain sight of God and everybody while she slipped on her shoes. Effie’s heartbeat accelerated as Amelia’s strange behavior increased. She watched as the young woman looked nervously up one side of the street and down another before darting through the alley opposite the Beauchamp house.
Effie gasped and headed inside, her mind spinning as she ran. If she hurried, she’d just about have time to…
Unaware that she’d been discovered, Amelia hurried through the alley, anxious to get to Raelene. She didn’t know what this evening would bring, but it would beat what was between the covers of her favorite romances. This time, she was living one of her own.
And while Amelia was lost in dreams, Effie was adjusting her binoculars to her myopic vision. As she peered down the alley through the magnifying lenses, the world suddenly came into focus. She gasped, bumping her head on the window of her second story bedroom.
Amelia Beauchamp was wearing a red dress, and it was so tight the girl could hardly walk a decent stride! Effie chewed on her lower lip in frustration as the magnolia trees in the Williams backyard got in her view.
“Fudge,” she muttered, while screwing wildly on the binoculars’ adjustment, desperately trying to bring Amelia back into sight. “Oh my Lord!” Effie shrieked, and leaned so far out the window, she dropped the binoculars into the birdbath below. “Double fudge,” she said, looking down in regret as she rubbed at the sore spot on her head. “I can’t believe what I just saw. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it anyway.”
Maurice was forgotten as she flopped down on the side of the bed and contemplated the fact that she’d just seen Amelia Beauchamp in a tight red dress and covered suspiciously with a coat when anyone but a fool would know it wasn’t even cold. And what was worse, she’d gotten into a car with that trollop, Raelene Stringer.
The implications were many, but facts were few, and Effie Dettenberg prided herself on dealing in facts. For now, she’d remain silent about what she’d seen. After all, she’d known Amelia ever since she’d come to live with her aunts. She was a good girl and had never caused her aunts a day of worry. And, she was a wonderful librarian, always saving the best craft books for her.
Effie fluffed her hair back into place and made her way downstairs to rescue the binoculars, although she knew in her heart that they were ruined.
“But,” she reminded herself as she fished the remnants out of the concrete birdbath, “I don’t really know what that girl’s life was like before she came to live with Wilhemina and Rosemary. I heard…” she told herself, as she started back inside with the pieces tucked safely into her apron that she’d used as a basket “…she was raised all wildlike. In foreign countries, living foreign lifestyles like the heathens who resided there. Who knows what awful things were branded into her soul? Who knows?” she repeated, and slammed and locked the door—for once leaving Maurice to do his catly duty in peace and quiet.
Tyler looked in the rearview mirror again, repeatedly checking his appearance. He’d never been this nervous about a date in his life. Here he was a grown man, well into his thirties, and he was almost sick to his stomach. He grimaced and then smoothed down his hair with his hands as Raelene Stringer’s car belched to a stop behind him.
She was here! The door opened, and she emerged from the old gray Chevy like a butterfly from a cocoon. And God have mercy on his soul, but she was wearing the most form-fitting dress he’d ever seen a woman wear and not get arrested. He didn’t know whether to lock her up so that no other man would see her, or put her on the hood of his car as an ornament. Pride alternated with jealousy at an alarming rate. He redeemed his sanity in time to crawl from the driver’s seat and go to meet her.
Raelene smiled at the look on their faces. This was better than a soap opera any day. “Hey, Amber, you know what time I leave. If you want a ride home, don’t be late,” and then she disappeared into the club.
Tyler couldn’t quit staring. “You’re so beautiful.”
/> So are you, Amelia thought, but “thank you,” was all that she said.
He was a far cry from the work-weary, sweat-stained man she’d seen earlier in the day eating at Sherry’s Steak and Soup. His gray slacks looked soft and moved against the force of his legs as he walked toward her. His muscles bunched then released in fluid motion beneath a shirt so white it almost glowed. The strong angles of his face were framed by hair as dark as the night and as thick as the sultry air around them. Amelia had never wanted anything so badly in her life as to reach out and touch the dark tan on his forearms…to see if he was as warm and sun-browned as he looked.
Night moths fluttered madly against the pole lights scattered around the parking lot of The Old South. A soft breeze came up and pulled at the rich abundance of Amelia’s hair, lifting it back and then dropping it down onto her shoulders like a teasing lover. Crickets tuned up from the shadows, reminding all who cared to listen that their symphony was about to begin.
Tyler’s hands were shaking as he reached out and brushed a wisp of hair from the corner of her lips, jealous of its right to be where he wanted.
“Where are you taking me?” Amelia asked.
To bed! came the thought. “It’s a surprise.”
Amelia grinned. “I love surprises.”
“Then come with me, pretty lady. Your chariot awaits.”
Amelia smiled. “It looks like a pickup truck to me.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” he said, and then winked.
Her smile slipped as she quietly took her seat inside the vehicle.
Oh Tyler, you have no idea how deceiving.
Meanwhile, a voice inside Tyler’s head was asking: Now what did I say to wipe that smile off her pretty face?
