Mother Knows Best

by Barbara Bretton

  Paula's insulted huff was crystal clear, thanks to AT&T and the wonders of fiber optic cables. "Don't criticize me until you've walked in my shoes, little sister."

  "I have walked in your shoes, Paulie, and I admit it's a tight fit but what Mary Ann Marino is going through is a whole different ballgame. I hope you thank God every night for two healthy children."

  "You must be back at work. You sound like last year's Mother's Day column."

  "I'm serious, Paulie. You don't know how lucky you are."

  "I do know how lucky I am," said an aggrieved Paula. "Why do you think I'm driving Art crazy about coming home early?"

  Diana's heart did a double-thump inside her chest. "Are you serious?"

  "Very. I miss them so much even Monte Carlo can't hold my interest."

  "When you say early, just how early do you mean?" I don't want this to be over yet, Paulie. There's so much I have to do.... The thought of leaving Gregory caused a lump, painful and huge, to form in her throat.

  "I'd come home today if I thought Art wouldn't shoot me," her sister said, "but I guess I'll hang on. It's already July 13th -- just eighteen more days until I see them again."

  "Eighteen more days," said Diana as she hung up the telephone and gazed out the kitchen window at the twins and Joey who were eating breakfast out on the deck. Eighteen more days and she'd be packing up the station wagon once again and leaving all of this behind as if it had never happened.

  As if it had never happened? Who was she trying to kid? In less than two weeks her entire existence had been turned upside down. Her fancy theories on easy parenting had flown out the window. Her pretty notions on single motherhood had gone up in flames. In a life that had been happily scheduled down to the last millisecond, Diana found herself forgetting to check her watch and taking time now and again to simply enjoy herself.

  Gregory's easy-going approach to life had rubbed off on her. He took his veterinary practice seriously but he made it perfectly clear that he was only in business because he wanted to be, not because he had to be. He spent his time doing what he wanted, when he wanted, and his whole-hearted embrace of pleasure was hard to resist. Not even Joey's illness, as painfully obvious as it had become, was enough to daunt Gregory's spirits and her heart swelled with unnamed emotions as she watched the man do his best to pass his strength onto the boy.

  It was perfectly obvious that Gregory Stewart was one of life's lucky ones. Blessed by the gods with good fortune and good friends, he was an enviable physical specimen whose striking looks were only exceeded by an extraordinarily fine spirit.

  Diana sighed. Maybe Fate had known what she was doing, after all, by introducing her to the perfect man at the most imperfect time. What earthly good could there be in becoming involved with a man who was heading for the high seas first chance he got? She wanted more than a summer fling; the one fling she'd had since her divorce had been an unmitigated failure and she'd determined to leave casual romantic encounters for those better suited.

  Gregory Stewart, however, was quite a temptation. He turned the simple act of kissing into an Olympic event -- one in which he was definitely a gold medalist. More than once she had thanked God for the presence of Kath and Jenny, two curly haired mood-breakers, who hadn't failed her -- even when her will power had.

  Gregory Stewart was handsome and intelligent, witty and playful, a thorough delight to be around, and Diana had no doubt most women would be quick to agree with that assessment. It wasn't difficult at all to understand why she loved spending time with him, even if their relationship would never be more than it was at that moment.

  What she couldn't understand at all was what was in it for him. What possible reason could he have for spending his time with a slightly overweight, extremely frazzled, currently disorganized columnist who came equipped with two kids and an arrogant cat? She'd seen the looks women cast in his direction; everywhere they went, women -- nubile and otherwise -- went out of their way to attract the attention of the gorgeous vet.

  Diana knew that different rules applied at different times, and summer resorts were an entity unto themselves. Most men in Gregory's position would be taking full advantage of that fact. Most men would have taken one look at the chaos in Gull Cottage and fled for the nearest singles bar.

  Not Gregory Stewart. He'd seen to Boris's hypochondria, listened to the girls' endless stories about Cinderella and Miss Piggy, and shown Diana a fierce yet tender sensuality that could easily be her undoing.

  Somehow their disparate lives fit together as if they were two pieces of a larger puzzle and she couldn't help but wish she'd be around long enough to see the finished picture.

  Foolish thoughts, for even if she stayed on beyond her time at Gull Cottage, come August 15th, the venerable Dr. Stewart would set sail toward the Caribbean, leaving her alone to embark upon her great husband hunt. "You shouldn't be doing this," she mumbled as she reached for the East Hampton telephone directory on the countertop.

  "Totally insane," she said as she dialed Mrs. Geller's number at the real estate office.

  "It's better this way," she declared as she placed the receiver back on its cradle. After all, they'd never even had an official date. Not really. She hadn't primped for him; he hadn't brought her flowers; she hadn't sailed off on a cloud of L'Air du Temps as he swept her away in his black Corvette for a candlelight supper and untold delights.

  If Gull Cottage had been available for the month of August, she just might have done something very stupid -- something that would have obliterated her bank account, devastated her work schedule, and quite possibly left her with a broken heart.

  And, unfortunately, she had the sinking feeling it would have been worth it.

  #

  There was no doubt about it, thought Diana she next evening. This was definitely a date.

  A small, candlelit restaurant with a view of the ocean. A table for two, complete with roses and champagne. An elegant meal served on real china instead of the paper plates she'd grown used to.

  And Gregory.

  Who said fantasies never came true?

  "More champagne?" he asked.

  She held out her glass. "I'd adore it." Mother Knows Best might extol the virtues of jelly-jar glasses and hamburger dinners, but Diana was taking indecent pleasure in Moet-Chandon and Chateaubriand.

  After the last two weeks of Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers, she'd almost forgotten what it was like to slip into her Laura Ashley sundress and strappy white sandals and not have to worry about peanut butter kisses and chocolate-stained hands.

  From the moment Mary Ann and Joey showed up at the doorstep two hours ago with two pepperoni pizzas and orders from Gregory to babysit the twins, Diana had known it was useless to protest. "Doctor's orders," said Mary Ann, then pushed Diana upstairs to get ready. How wonderful it felt to brush her hair until the blonde curls glistened. How glorious it was to apply perfume to her pulse points and not baby powder. How utterly delightful it was to slip into her silkiest lingerie and pretend Gregory would be there later to help her slip out of it.

  And how magnificent he looked all decked out in a suit and tie, like some almost-civilized pirate king.

  "Do you like shrimp?" he asked.

  "Only if they're large and firm and spicy."

  He arched a dark brow in her direction, then placed her order without cracking a smile. Dating was more dangerous than she'd imagined it to be; even ordering a simple seafood cocktail sounded like an invitation to a bacchanal. She'd seen Tom Jones. She knew what trouble eating dinner could cause.

  As if on cue, the lush, romantic sound of an old Johnny Mathis song filled the room and couples headed for the dance floor. Diana glanced at Gregory. Dance, that's what they should do. What on earth could happen in the middle of a crowded dance floor?

  Two minutes later she had her answer: plenty.

  His hands snaked their way up her spine as he drew her close. His hips were pressed against hers in a scandalously thrilling manner that belied
the sweet music that surrounded them. Their movements were perfectly matched. Their inner rhythms were wildly synchronous, wildly sensuous, wildly dangerous.

  "We used to call this make out music," he murmured, his breath hot against the curve of her ear.

  "I can see why," she managed.

  "It's the rhythm."

  "I noticed."

  He executed a subtle movement that brought them closer still, a rocking of his hips that was too thrilling to possibly be legal in East Hampton.

  "They say you can tell a lot by the way a woman dances."

  Diana leaned away so she could look up at him. "You can probably tell I have two left feet."

  He told her exactly what else he could tell by the way they fit together on the dance floor and she was positive the only thing that kept her from melting right there on the spot was the air-conditioning.

  "Maybe we should sit down," she suggested.

  "Coward," he said softly as he led her back to their table. "You're only postponing the inevitable."

  For once in her life Diana was at a loss for words because, for once in her life, Diana was on fire from within.

  #

  During the next few days Diana learned a great deal about fire and just how easily it could be controlled with two inquisitive little girls underfoot. She had only to look at Gregory to recreate the wonderful heat she'd experienced that night on the dance floor and she knew from the kisses they shared on the deck at Gull Cottage that he was finding it as difficult as she to keep the flames under control.

  If it weren't for the presence of Kath and Jenny, she had no doubt where they'd end up. Better to keep things light and breezy, Diana reasoned, and she set out to make sightseeing en famille her top priority during the rest of her stay at Gull Cottage. Sex was a dangerous game, especially when you knew the man you fancied was heading for the open seas come August 15th.

  "You won't believe who I saw at the farm stand in Amagansett," Diana said at the beginning of her third week as she, the girls, and Joey burst into the East End Animal Hospital at closing time.

  "Lauren Bacall," said Gregory and company in unison.

  Diana's jaw sagged open. "How did you know?"

  Gregory laughed and ruffled her hair. "Sooner or later, everyone out here has a Lauren Bacall story."

  "I met her at the post office last summer," Mary Ann offered with a saucy grin.

  "Peggy and I sat next to her at the movies," said Dave, who was back on the job.

  "Go ahead," said Diana, glaring at Gregory as he scooped the girls up into his strong arms. "Ruin my day: what's your Bacall saga?"

  "Nothing elaborate. We argued about a third strike call at one of the softball games a few years back."

  "You can make fun of me all you want," said Diana, "but I'm thrilled. Lauren Bacall helped me pick tomatoes."

  She could barely hear herself think over the raucous laughter coming from her so-called friends. "Well, maybe you're used to rubbing elbows with Bogie's baby, but I'm not." Bacall, with that distinctive contralto voice and the glorious lined face, had sidled up to Diana at the market and pointed to a basket of absolutely perfect beefsteak tomatoes the greengrocer was putting out. "Those," she had said, with her incomparable timing, "are what I call tomatoes." Me, too, Ms. Bacall, Diana had thought. If Bacall had told her turnips were tomatoes, she probably would have believed the legendary actress.

  Mary Ann draped an arm around her son's bony shoulders. "So what did you think of Lauren Bacall, kiddo?"

  Joey shrugged. "She's old."

  Mary Ann made a face and tugged at the bill of his Yankees cap. "He thinks anyone over twenty-one is old."

  "He didn't think that other fellow was old."

  "That was Phil Rizzuto," said Joey, his face animated with excitement at the thought of the Yankees former shortstop. "That was great!"

  Gregory lit up with excitement himself. "You guys saw the Scooter?"

  "Yeah," said Joey, pulling a piece of paper from the pocket of his cut-offs. "I got his autograph, too."

  "Now that's something," said Gregory, whistling at the autographed piece of notepaper. "Not everyone has a Phil Rizzuto story."

  "I don't believe this!" Diana was outraged. "Here you have one of the best actresses in the world living right in your midst and you get all goofy over some short little man in dark glasses! Unbelievable."

  "Women," said Gregory, inclining his head toward Diana. "They don't understand anything, do they, Joey?"

  Joey looked at Diana and blushed that adorable shade of pink she'd grown accustomed to. "She's not so bad," he mumbled and Diana was happy that no one laughed.

  #

  "Joey's got it bad for you," Gregory observed a half hour later as they piled into the station wagon after saying goodbye to the Marinos and to Dave. "Should I be jealous?" He pulled out of the driveway and headed toward Riverhead and the North Fork where his boat was docked.

  Diana gave him a playful sock in the forearm. "Don't be silly," she said lightly. "Joey knows my heart belongs to him." She knew the boy had an adolescent crush on her and she was glad that no one had teased him about coming to her defense in the waiting room when she told her Lauren Bacall story.

  He was a delightful boy, given to poetic bursts of pre-teenage melodrama that were quickly followed by childish laughter and tomfoolery that put him on a level with Kath and Jenny. His admiration for Diana was painfully obvious and she found it touching to be the object of his devotion.

  Of course, all of this was made the more bittersweet by the progress of the disease that was ravaging his young body. Joey was so thin he barely cast a shadow.

  Mary Ann's smoking increased and it seemed to Diana that the red-haired woman walked about enshrouded by a thick cloud of cigarette smoke.

  She wished she could talk about her fears with Gregory, but if there was one thing Diana had learned during her stay in East Hampton, it was to keep those worries to herself. Gregory was patience unlimited when it came to anything else, but when the conversation turned to Joey and his illness, his patience came to a screeching halt. If she said the boy looked tired, Gregory said he'd never looked better. If she said the boy looked ill, Gregory changed the subject with the speed of light.

  Kath and Jenny were chattering away to each other in the back seat, speaking in an elaborately-constructed language that seemed to be three-quarters English and one-quarter their own design.

  "Do you understand them?" Gregory asked, cocking his head toward the twins.

  "Only after a lot of trial-and-error. As far as I can tell, they're talking about your boat."

  "I hope they're not expecting Trump's yacht. This is a plain, garden variety forty-six footer."

  "There's nothing plain about a forty-six foot boat, Gregory."

  "You're not going to find a solarium and hot and cold running servants."

  "Who needs servants? They'd only get in our way."

  He grinned at her. "I thought we'd take her out a little way and have dinner on the high seas."

  Diana groaned. "What if I get seasick?"

  "Do you get seasick?"

  "I don't know. I've never been out on the high seas before."

  "What about the munchkins?"

  "They're old salts. Paula and Art keep a boat at the Jersey Shore." She sat up straight in her seat. "Life preservers! Do you have any for the girls?"

  "We'll have them fitted at the marina."

  His profile was lean and rugged and her heart did a funny little flip inside her chest. "Thought of everything, did you, Dr. Stewart?"

  He glanced toward her, his eyes blue as the sky overhead. "We aim to please."

  I'll bet you do, she thought. Well, here's something else to think about: what would you say if I told you I just might be falling in love?

  #

  Gregory's boat turned out to be a marvel of fiberglass and burled wood and brass fittings. Over forty feet of perfect craftsmanship that was a splendid foil for the man who owned it. The momen
t they boarded her and he started the engine, he seemed to grow younger, more carefree, right before her eyes. The day's fatigue slipped away as they left the marina behind; the slight worry lines on his forehead smoothed over. With the late afternoon sun glinting off his dark hair and his eyes narrowed against the glare, he was the pirate of her teenage fantasies, come to whisk her away to some tropical paradise where he would have his way with her.

  She glanced over at the two little girls in their matching life vests. Ah, well. Her fantasy hadn't included taking the Bobbsey twins along for the ride but this spur-of-the-moment getaway was wonderful, just the same.

  "Look over there," he said, pointing into the distance. "That's the Connecticut coastline across the Sound. If we'd gotten an earlier start, we could have had dinner in Mystic."

  "Another time," she said, wishing there could be a thousand other times. "We can always bring in a pizza when we get back to Gull Cottage or sample the recipes I was working on for the book."

  "Pizza!" Kath piped up as Jenny nodded in agreement.

  "Pizza's great," said Gregory, cutting the engine, "but I had something else in mind."

  Diana's eyebrows lifted. "Careful, Doctor," she murmured. "There are minors on board."

  "I was talking about dinner."

  "We're going back to the marina so soon?"

  "I thought we'd dine al fresco."

  "Sandwiches?" she asked, wondering where the galley was. "Fruit and cheese?"

  He disappeared below then a moment later reappeared on deck with a huge tray laden with exotic goodies. "Courtesy of the Hellenic Snack Bar," he said with a flourish. "Only the best Greek food this side of Athens." He pointed toward two small plates of plain chicken, rice, and broccoli. "I even had something made for the munchkins." She watched, speechless, as he placed the tray down on the bolted-down table and whisked out some heavy duty paper plates. "It seemed to me it was time to get you out of the kitchen."

  Spanakopita.

  Moussaka.

  Homemade baklava thick with nuts and honey.

  A man who had thought enough of her to not only listen to her likes and dislikes but to remember them. A man resourceful enough to understand that the way to a dieting woman's heart was invariably through her stomach.