Mother Knows Best

by Barbara Bretton

  He liked tall, willowy brunettes with eyes the color of melted caramels.

  Diana Travis was small and round and a hazel-eyed blonde.

  He liked women who wore slinky black dresses and kept their emotions as banked as their trust funds. Diana Travis wore cotton and cutoffs and seemed to live on the edge of collapse.

  He swore and grabbed a piece of tissue to press against the cut on his chin. His body screamed for sleep; his stomach rumbled for real food; his eyes were crossed with fatigue. If he had any brains at all, he'd be stretched out in his air-conditioned bedroom grabbing some needed rest, not getting ready to play tour guide to a summer renter who was everything he wasn't looking for in a woman.

  But then what was he looking for in a woman, anyway? There had been so many after Hayley left, as if he'd had to prove himself over and over again in a variety of ways, searching for answers he could never find anywhere but inside his own soul. After a while the fiery need to reaffirm his own life had cooled and, although he hadn't been celibate this last year, he'd been damned close to it.

  Hell, he wasn't looking for a woman at all. He was only looking to get out. He didn't want to leave anyone behind when he left, no broken hearts or empty promises or any of the myriad complications that came with modern romance.

  The last thing he wanted was someone like Diana with those sparkling hazel eyes and soft voice and tempting body.

  "Damn!" he swore as he nicked himself and reached for the styptic pencil on the edge of the sink.

  "Talking to yourself, are you?" asked Mary Ann from the doorway. "Not a good sign."

  "Eavesdropping again, are you?" he countered, wielding the razor in the space between his nose and his upper lip. "Not a good sign either, MA." He rinsed the blade in the sink then glanced at her in the mirror. "Did Joey tell you about the beer?"

  "Leading my kid down the path to perdition, are you, Greg? First it's a sip of Coors; next it's a bachelor pad and the Playmate of the Month."

  "He hated it. I caught him rinsing out his mouth with Pepsi." Gregory put away the razor and shaving cream then dried his face on a whisper-thin towel.

  "He didn't tell me that part."

  "He wouldn't. I'm violating a major tenet of male bonding by telling you this much."

  "What are we going to do when you leave, Greg? Who's going to explain all that macho business to him?" "You'll manage. You always have." He gave her a hug and willed himself to ignore the sudden stab of guilt her teasing words had caused. He'd waited a long time for this; he deserved it in a way Mary Ann couldn't possibly understand. Come August 15th, he was out of there.

  Nothing was about to change that fact, not even Joey Marino.

  Not even Diana Travis.

  #

  "I don't think your receptionist likes me," said Diana as she climbed into her rented station wagon to head back into East Hampton. It was five after ten and she was feeling inordinately pleased with herself.

  "It's nothing personal." Gregory turned and gave a final tug on each of the girl's safety harnesses, then looked back at her. "Mary Ann doesn't like anybody these days."

  "She seems to like you well enough."

  "It's payday and she's a practical woman. If she said something to upset you, I'd be glad to speak with her about it. Mary Ann has the habit of speaking her mind, whether you want to hear it or not."

  "It's not that she said anything exactly," said Diana, starting the engine. "It's more what she didn't say."

  "Maybe it's your imagination."

  "I'm not a terribly imaginative woman, Gregory. That's why I write the kind of column I do."

  "It takes a hell of a mind to come up with one hundred things to do with chopsticks."

  "What it takes is a sense of humor. I know your receptionist doesn't like me."

  "Mary Ann has a lot on her mind lately. Trust me, when I say it's nothing personal."

  Diana nodded, not about to argue with him about his receptionist's private life. If he wanted to believe his receptionist was frowning over what to cook for dinner that was his business. Diana, however, was a firm believer in women's intuition and she knew there had been a great deal more than simple curiosity in the red-haired woman's face.

  Stewart balked about fastening his seat belt but Diana refused to back out of her parking spot until he did.

  "You're worse than my mother," he groused.

  "Thank you," she said. "Mother takes that as a compliment. Seat belts save lives."

  "So does using the brakes," he said, wincing as she rolled to a stop at the traffic light on Route 27A West.

  "You might want to give it a shot."

  "You don't give an inch on anything, do you?"

  "Life's too short to compromise."

  "I agree that life's too short, but compromise makes it run smoother, wouldn't you say?" "Spoken by a woman who's probably never compromised on anything in her entire life."

  "An unfair assumption," Diana said as she drove past the Hook Mill and into East Hampton proper. "You don't know the first thing about me."

  "Name one major item you've compromised on in your life."

  "Gull Cottage," she said, glancing in her rear view mirror at the twins who were busy playing with their stuffed dinosaurs. "I'm living there without furniture. I'd say that qualifies as a major league compromise."

  "Doesn't count. You said your brother-in-law paid for and okayed the deal. You're just going along with it for the ride."

  "I hate men with perfect memories," she muttered. "I'm still there."

  "I've been wondering about that," he said. "Why are you still there?"

  "Beats Holiday Inn."

  "They have furniture at Holiday Inn. Televisions, alarm clocks, all the modern conveniences."

  "I'll have all the modern conveniences, too, once I finish shopping."

  "Seems like a lot of trouble to go through for a month by the water. I would have stayed home." "Great idea if you have one."

  He didn't even try to hide his curiosity. "You don't look like one of the homeless to me."

  "I am," she said, stopping at another traffic signal, "although it's by choice, not circumstance. I've moved around a great deal the past few years. My last lease ran out a few weeks ago and I've been staying at an inn in Bucks County."

  "Wanderlust?" he asked, watching her profile closely as the light turned green.

  "You could call it that. It seemed as good a cure for the post-divorce blues as any other I could come up with."

  "Did it work?"

  "I think so. I'll know for sure after the Fourth of July when he marries his pregnant pom-pom queen."

  "Jealous?"

  "Yes," said Diana honestly, aware of the intensity of his gaze. "I guess I am."

  "Still love him?"

  The answer, of course, was none of Dr. Gregory Stewart's business. "No, I don't, but I envy what they have together."

  "Home? Marriage? Baby on the way?"

  "All of the above," said Diana. All of the things she'd taken for granted when she was young and foolish. "It took me awhile to realize it; now I have to make up for lost time."

  "What would people think if they knew Mother didn't have a home of her own?"

  "I'm trusting you to keep it secret. The public doesn't need to know everything."

  "Doctor-patient privilege. Your secret's safe with me."

  "You're a vet."

  "And you're Boris's guardian for the month. It's all in the family."

  He was tall, dark and handsome; he was good with kids and he had a sense of humor. She was overweight and overtired, taking care of two kids and working toward a deadline. There was no justice in the world. She was about to tell him exactly that when he directed her off Main Street and she pulled into the parking lot by the A & P.

  It took a while to get both Kath and Jenny set up in their double stroller, but finally they were ready to embark on the great shopping expedition.

  "Where to first?" he asked. "Supermarket? Bank? Post office
?"

  "The video store," said Diana.

  "What about food?" "You have your priorities; I have mine. If I'm going to survive a month with the Bobbsey Twins, I'd better be able to provide Sesame Street, the Smurfs, and a daily dose of Lady and the Tramp."

  Gregory Stewart turned out to be better than a Mobil Travel Guide. He seemed to know every inch of East Hampton and in short order Diana had a working familiarity with the picturesque town that reminded her of Norman Rockwell's idea of a perfect New England village.

  But there was more to East Hampton than just its pretty face -- or its trendy status. Thanks to Gregory Stewart, she could imagine the vicious winters during the Revolutionary War when British troops camped out on the village green and stole a pot of suet pudding and tossed it down the hill, now aptly named Pudding Hill. Once the village green had been the nesting ground for hundreds of honking geese and the South End Burying Ground had also provided grazing pastures for wandering cows as well as a final resting place for the town's citizens.

  And, of course, there were the glorious turn-of-the-last-century summers when the creme de la creme of New York society discovered the bucolic pleasures of the tiny town and made it famous.

  Young artists had gathered at Rowdy Hall, studying by day and carousing by night. Diana could almost hear the sound of their long-ago laughter floating through up from the fields where they had set up their easels. Jack and Janet Bouvier had rented Rowdy Hall in 1928 and little Jacqueline -- one day to be Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis -- had celebrated her second birthday right there.

  There was the Hook Mill, and the Presbyterian churches, and "Home Sweet Home" but, unfortunately, she wasn't there to sightsee; she was there to shop and shop she did. She rented a TV & VCR at the video store and found some old dishes at the Ladies' Auxiliary behind the Church. In short order, she had managed to make most of her major purchases and a few minor ones, as well.

  "I didn't see chocolate cheesecake on your list," Gregory said as they exited the pricey specialty store.

  Diana pushed thoughts of those extra fifteen pounds from her mind. "I'm a shop owner's dream come true," she said, struggling with her packages and the double stroller. He stopped short, his own muscular arms laden with her packages. "Give me the cheesecake."

  "Can I trust you?"

  "You'll have to take your chances. The rate you're going, it'll end up splattered on the sidewalk."

  "Perish the thought," she said with a shiver and handed the precious cargo over to him for safe transit. They looked as if they were ready to embark on a year-long safari. And to think most of her purchases were being delivered to Gull Cottage later on.

  Gregory piled the heavy box containing the cheesecake atop his stack of packages and they continued walking. There was something to be said for having a man along, she thought as they walked down the broad tree-lined street past jewelry stores and bookshops and one adorable boutique after another.

  Actually there was something to be said for having this particular man along. She'd been shameless, the way she watched him that morning, enjoying the play of sunlight in his thick, dark hair, the sparkle in his blue-green eyes. Once when he bent down to retrieve one of Jenny's toys, Diana had found herself mesmerized by the splendid swelling of muscles crisscrossing his broad back.

  She'd even felt an odd kind of female satisfaction in the way other women -- of all ages -- found it equally impossible to look away when Gregory was in the room. Diana had never thought herself prone to foolishness like that but apparently the opportunity simply hadn't presented itself before now.

  To make matters even more amazing, he was as agreeable as he was gorgeous. He had sweet-talked the twins out of a major temper tantrum in the bank; he had orchestrated a terrific deal on a card table and chairs; he had even procured the best possible rental fee for the VCR and television at the local video store without so much as raising his voice. Mother couldn't have done better herself.

  And she'd be lying if she said having an extra pair of strong arms around to share the burden didn't make life considerably sweeter. The sun was hot and bright overhead, cooled by the salty breeze blowing in from the Atlantic nearby. The spicy scent of geraniums and the sweet smell of roses wafted on the air as they strolled past a garden in full bloom and she breathed deeply, filling her head with the delightful mixture of perfumes.

  "You're a lucky man," she said, peering up at him through her dark glasses. "Living in the middle of a picture postcard all year long."

  "From September to June it's terrific, but you can keep it during the season."

  "I take it you don't like summer people."

  "They're a necessary evil," he said with a shrug of his broad shoulders, "but I sure as hell breathe a sigh of relief after Labor Day."

  A perfectly matched couple straight out of the L. L. Bean Catalog loped past them, talking -- in tones worthy of Harvard and Yale -- about the perfect $12 eggplant they'd discovered at Madame Makarova's Russian Deli.

  "See what I mean?" Gregory said with a wry twist of his mouth.

  "Afraid so," said Diana. "The dreaded summer people. And to think I'm one of them."

  "At least you're not wearing madras," he said. "I hate madras."

  "One thing confuses me," she said as they turned off Main Street and headed back toward the parking lot near the A & P. "You know East Hampton like the back of your hand; you volunteer on the North Fork and work on the South. Where exactly do you live -- in Gardiner's Bay?"

  "I used to live in Southold, right near the store where you met me yesterday, but I rented out the house just before Memorial Day. I've been living behind the animal hospital ever since."

  It was none of her business why he was living behind the animal hospital, any more than it was his business why she lived nowhere at all but Diana had never been one to err on the side of caution.

  "Money problems?"

  He didn't bat an eye. "Scheduling problems. It was either rent the house then or forever hold my mortgage."

  "Good fiscal planning."

  "I thought so."

  "Are you buying another house around East Hampton?"

  "Actually I'm leaving East Hampton in mid-August and sailing down to the Caribbean."

  "The Caribbean during hurricane season?"

  "I like to live dangerously."

  "Will you be closing the hospital down?"

  "The season will be practically over by then. My partner can handle it alone until Labor Day. After that, things quiet down."

  "Sailing down to the Caribbean," she said, whistling low. "Lucky man."

  He looked at her for a long moment before he spoke. "Yeah," he said, stretching the word out then snapping it back into place like a perfectly-aimed slingshot. "That's me."

  Too soon they were once again at the station wagon, loading up the back with her purchases and strapping the girls into their car seats for the ride to the animal hospital -- and the end of the delightful morning.

  As he fastened his own seatbelt, his large hand brushed against Diana's thigh.

  "Sorry," he said, meeting her gaze.

  "No problem," she said, although that brief contact had only heightened the delicious fantasies she'd been indulging in all morning.

  They chatted easily as she drove back to the East End Animal Hospital; Diana found it hard to believe that twenty-four hours ago Gregory Stewart had been a stranger. He had a sharp wit and a quirky disposition and at times he was arrogant, to boot, but she enjoyed his company and finally stopped worrying about her extra pounds and the fact her hair looked as if she'd stuck her finger in a light socket.

  She turned left into the circular drive to the veterinary hospital and shifted the station wagon into Park.

  "Here we are," she said, stating the obvious. "I don't know what I'd have done without you."

  "You'd have managed, Mother," he said with an easy laugh. "It might have taken longer, but you'd have managed fine."

  "You're right," she said, retrieving
Kath's stuffed triceratops from the floor of the back seat, "but that doesn't mean I didn't appreciate the help."

  "And the company?"

  Was she mad, or was there a touch of uncertainty in the gorgeous doctor's voice?

  "And the company."

  "If you and the twins aren't doing anything on the Fourth, I give a barbecue every year and I..." His words drifted off into a pleasant kind of mumble she found quite endearing.

  "It sounds wonderful," she said cautiously, "but aren't you forgetting something? You don't have a house or a yard any longer."

  "There's plenty of property behind here," he said, gesturing toward the back of the hospital building. "If the barbecue's good enough, no one will miss the ambience."

  "Have it at Gull Cottage, why don't you?"

  He looked as surprised as she was by her words. "Gull Cottage," she repeated, warming to the spur-of-the-moment idea. "The place is huge. We have a barbecue pit, a swimming pool, a beach."

  "It's also fancy as hell. What if something breaks?"

  "The place is empty as an abandoned railroad station. The only things left of Mr. McClellan's are Boris, the papier mache shark, the slot machine and Cleopatra's barge. If they can survive Kath and Jenny, they can survive anything."

  "Cleopatra's Barge?"

  "You'd have to see it to believe it." She offered him her best smile by means of encouragement. "Come on, Gregory. What do you say? You'd be doing me a real favor. I'd even supply the food."

  "Supplying the mansion should be enough of a contribution."

  "No, I'm serious. I have a whole chapter's worth of picnic recipes I need to test for the book I'm putting together. You and your friends could be my guinea pigs."

  "Maybe we should call for the Colonel."

  Her dignity was on the line and she leaned toward him in righteous indignation. "The hapless wench you've seen the past two days isn't the real me. The least you can do is give me a chance to redeem my reputation as an organized, upstanding woman."