THE TROPHY WIFE

by Ginna Gray

  "Not yet. First I'd like for you to completely redecorate this room. Make it ours."

  * * *

  Ten

  « ^ »

  Elizabeth and Max arrived at Mimosa Landing just after noon on Thanksgiving Day. They no sooner stepped inside out of the cold than Aunt Talitha, Mimi and even quiet little Martha began to bombard them with questions.

  "What happened?"

  "Why are you back so soon?"

  "Are you ill?"

  "Oh, my, you do look a little peaked, child."

  "I'm fine, Aunt Talitha. Just give us a minute to take our coats off," Elizabeth pleaded. "Then we'll explain everything."

  With obvious impatience the women held their tongues until they were seated around the roaring fire in the front parlor, all except Martha, who lingered in the doorway.

  The Mimosa Landing housekeeper was the exact opposite of her counterpart in Houston. Where Gladys was tall, raw-boned and a bit on the brusque side, Martha was a little dumpling of a woman, quiet and meek and unassuming.

  Aunt Talitha gave Elizabeth an imperious look and thumped her cane against the floor. "Well? Out with it."

  Elizabeth hated to upset her aunt, but she felt it best that she explain what had happened rather than risk her finding out later through a slip of the tongue.

  Whitewashing the story as much as she could, she told them what had occurred. By the time she'd finished all three women were staring at her with shocked expressions.

  "Oh, my word." Talitha put her age-spotted hand over her heart. "Why, that's awful. That … that monster actually tried to run you down in the street?"

  "Yes. If it hadn't been for Mrs. Phelps I probably wouldn't be here."

  "I do hope you got her address," her aunt said. "I must write to the dear lady and express my gratitude."

  "That thug probably followed you to your hotel. He must've been watchin' your suite, waitin' for Max to leave." Mimi shivered and rubbed her goose-bumpy arms. "That's so creepy."

  "I just don't understand this. Why on earth would anyone want Elizabeth dead?" her aunt asked.

  Speaking up for the first time, Max said, "Detective Gertski thinks it's a case of mistaken identity. I'm inclined to agree, but after two attempts on Elizabeth's life, I decided to get her out of New York. I could have taken her somewhere else for the rest of our honeymoon, but she wanted to come home."

  "Of course she did. You did the right thing, my boy. After that kind of fright the child needs to be with her family."

  Aunt Talitha gave Max an approving look and reached over and patted his arm. "I'm so glad she has a real man like you to look after her now. Not some namby-pamby like that no-good Edward Culpepper. I never liked that man," she declared, thumping her cane against the Oriental rug for emphasis.

  Mimi eyed Max and drawled, "All I can say, stud, is I sure as hell hope you're good in bed. 'Cause that was some cruddy honeymoon."

  "Mimi, behave yourself," Talitha admonished in a weary tone that said she despaired of that ever happening.

  "I think I hear the stove timer buzzing," Martha murmured, and hurried out of the room. Moments later she reappeared in the doorway and announced that dinner was ready.

  Throughout the meal, speculation about the incidents in New York continued. Now that she was home, Elizabeth felt safe. The two scares seemed more like bad dreams than reality, and she wanted to put them out of her mind. By the time the meal was over she was sick of the subject.

  Groaning and berating themselves for eating too much, the three women and Max adjourned to the den at the back of the house. The large room, built in 1950, was the newest addition to the rambling mid-nineteenth century farmhouse, and the one the family used most.

  "Why don't you show me around the farm," Max suggested to Elizabeth before she had a chance to get comfortable. "I don't know about you, but I could use some exercise after that meal."

  "Good idea," she replied, jumping at the chance to escape any more pointless speculation. Also, there was nothing she liked better than to show off her beloved farm.

  "Mimi, would you like to come along while I show Max around?" Elizabeth asked her friend.

  Mimi chuckled. "Are you kiddin' me, sugar? No way am I trompin' through the fields in these four-inch heels."

  "You could change into a pair of sneakers."

  That produced an unladylike snort. "Now, sugar, I ask you, do I look like a woman who would even own such a thing?"

  With a dramatic sigh, Mimi plopped down onto one of the den's long sofas and stretched out. Talitha, as always, sat down in her padded rocker and hooked her cane over one arm.

  "Go on, you two." With a bejeweled hand Mimi waved Elizabeth and Max on their way. "To tell the truth, Aunt Talitha and I are glad there won't be a male here to insist on watching a football game. While you two are tramping through the fields, steppin' in cow pies and freezing your arses off, we're gonna watch one of the shopping networks."

  "Suit yourself," Elizabeth said with a laugh. She looked at Max. "Just give me a minute to run upstairs and change into my jeans and some walking shoes."

  "Sure. Go ahead."

  "Wait. I'll come with you." With languid movements, Mimi hauled herself off the sofa. "It'll give us a chance for a bit of private girl talk."

  Arm in arm, the two women strolled out of the den. Over her shoulder Mimi sent Max a mischievous smile and winked.

  Watching them go, he shook his head. "How in the hell did those two women ever become such close friends?"

  "Yes, they do seem an unlikely pair, don't they." Aunt Talitha motioned toward the matching chair next to her own. "Come over here and sit down and I'll tell you the history behind their friendship."

  For several moments after Max sat down the old woman stared off into space, as though mentally transporting herself back to another time.

  "First of all, for you to understand, I'm going to have to give you a little family background," she finally said.

  Max nodded. "Sure. Go ahead." He was an active player in today's fast-paced world. His instinct was to get to the point and get on with things. Had she been anyone else he would have tried to hurry her along, but Max was beginning to realize that it was futile to rush the old lady. Great-aunt Talitha did things at her own pace.

  "Elizabeth's father, Ransom Patrick Stanton, was my brother Pierce's son. Pierce was much older than my twin sister, Mariah, and I. We were late-in-life babies for our parents, you see. So we were only five years old when Ransom was born, and he always seemed more like a brother to us than a nephew.

  "Ah, he grew up to be a dashing, handsome young man," the old lady reminisced with a fond smile, her eyes growing misty. "The strong character and pioneering blood of the Stantons ran deep in him.

  "The family was tickled pink when he married Victoria Trent. Such a lovely girl she was," Talitha said with a wistful sigh. "The very essence of genteel femininity.

  "Mmm. Victoria and Ransom were the perfect couple. Everyone said so—he with his strength and confidence, his rugged good looks and winning personality, she with her softness, her compassion, her elegant beauty. Elizabeth inherited the best of both of them.

  "And Lord, Lord, did that child adore her parents, especially her mother.

  "Victoria died of breast cancer when Elizabeth was nine and the poor child was devastated," Talitha recalled with a sad note in her voice. "Not that she cried or carried on or anything, mind you. Truth be told, we were all praying that she would. Instead she grew even more somber and quiet and pulled back from everyone, holding all that grief and anguish inside her.

  "Our next-door neighbor in Houston, Horace Whittington, had married Mimi just a few days before Victoria died. Mimi was barely nineteen at the time. Horace was a fifty-two-year-old widower."

  "Ah, now I get it. The girl from the wrong side of the tracks snared herself a rich old man, and started living on easy street. I figured it was something like that. Despite the designer clothes and jewelry, she just doesn't have the poli
sh of someone born to money." And he should know, Max thought privately. Neither did he.

  Of course … Elizabeth had married him for his money, he thought with a frown. Yet he did not think of her as a gold digger, partly because the marriage had been his idea, and because theirs was a mutually beneficial deal, one they'd both entered into with their eyes wide open. He wondered if poor old Horace had known it was his deep pockets that had attracted Mimi.

  Making a scornful sound, Max shook his head. "Ah, well. They say there's no fool like an old fool."

  "I can understand why you would think that," Talitha murmured. "I'll admit, at first I thought much the same thing. We all did. But we soon learned better.

  "Mimi had a hard childhood. After the deaths of her parents she was passed from relative to relative, but nobody wanted her. After about a year of that she went into foster care. That's where she stayed, bouncing from one home to another until, at sixteen, she decided that she'd had enough and ran away.

  "When Horace met her she was a competitive ballroom dancer. I think he was the first person to show her genuine love, and Mimi loved him right back, with every fiber in her. For more than twenty years they were one of the happiest couples I've ever known. It just about killed her when she lost him.

  "Horace, bless him, saw past the brash exterior to the innate goodness in Mimi—the big heart, the compassion, the honesty. And with the clear vision of a child, so did Elizabeth.

  "For her part, Mimi understood the bottled-up pain and sense of loss in that motherless little girl's eyes and responded to it. Whenever the grief became too much for Elizabeth, quiet as a mouse she would squeeze through the hedge separating our Houston estate from the Whittingtons' and seek out Mimi. Elizabeth did not have to say a word. Mimi had only to look at that sad little face and she would drop whatever she was doing and open her arms to the child."

  Talitha shook her head, her expression soft with the memory. "Whenever Elizabeth went missing I always knew where to find her. Many's the time I've walked into the Whittingtons' sunroom and found Mimi cuddling the child in her lap, quietly rocking her."

  Shaking off the memory, Talitha turned her gaze on Max. "I will forever be grateful to Mimi for getting Elizabeth through that awful time. They've been close ever since.

  "Of course, over the years, as Elizabeth matured, their relationship changed from one of mentor-child to a friendship between equals, but the tie is as strong as ever. It's a rare day that they don't spend some time together, if only dance hour."

  "Dance hour?"

  "Mimi started giving Elizabeth dancing lessons when she was nine. To this day, they spend an hour each morning dancing, either in the studio in the attic of the Whittington home, or the one here that Elizabeth had installed above the old carriage house. They dance to keep in shape, and because they both love it."

  "Hmm. I'd like to watch that sometime."

  "Good luck with that. Elizabeth doesn't like to have an audience. But the point of all this is that Mimi was a godsend when the child needed her, and she's Elizabeth's best friend now."

  "Thanks for telling me," Max said. "Now things make more sense."

  "Yes. It's interesting how a different perspective can alter your opinion of someone, isn't it?" Talitha held his gaze, and Max could see the shrewdness in her faded blue eyes.

  "Yes. Yes, it is."

  "May I offer you one piece of advice?"

  "Sure." Max had the feeling she was going to, no matter what he said.

  "A wise man would not try to break up that friendship."

  He mulled that over for a moment then nodded. "I'm sure you're right."

  The instant they were out of earshot, Mimi squeezed Elizabeth's arm and leaned in close. "I've been dyin' for hours to get you alone so I can ask this. How is he?" she whispered.

  "How is who?"

  "Max. You know … between the sheets."

  "Mimi! What a thing to ask. Behave yourself."

  "Don't be silly. That's no fun. Well?"

  "Forget it. That topic isn't open for discussion." They reached the top of the stairs, and Elizabeth pulled her arm free from her friend's grasp and hurried down the hallway to her bedroom. Mimi hurried after her, the soles of her backless stilettos slap-slapping against the bottoms of her heels with each step.

  Inside the bedroom, Elizabeth headed for the enormous walk-in closet, but at the entrance she stopped and lifted up the back of her hair. Without having to be asked, Mimi pulled down the long zipper.

  "Aw, c'mon, sugar. I'm your best friend. You can tell me. I won't say a word to anyone. I promise." She held up four fingers. "Girl Scout's honor."

  Elizabeth paused in the act of stepping out of the long wool dress she'd worn for dinner and cocked a dubious eyebrow at her friend. "Oh, right."

  She went into the closet and hung up her dress. Mimi followed close on her heels.

  After stepping out of her pumps, Elizabeth hooked her thumbs underneath the waistband of her panty hose and peeled them off, as well, and tossed the gossamer garment into a satin-lined basket that held things to be hand-washed.

  "And you were never a Girl Scout."

  "Okay, okay. So maybe I would tell Doreen," Mimi admitted with a rueful pout. "But only because we have a bet goin'."

  "You what?" Clutching the jeans she'd just pulled off the hanger in one hand, Elizabeth spun around. Wearing only the lacy light blue bikini panties and matching bra, she planted her fists on her hip bones. "You actually bet on my sex life. Honestly, Mimi, that's too much. Even for you."

  "Now, before you get your nose out of joint, hear me out. I didn't mean for things to get out of hand—" Mimi sucked in a sharp breath, and Elizabeth saw that her horrified stare was fixed on her injured hip.

  "Omigod! Oh, sugar, I thought you said that car just grazed you. That looks awful. It has to hurt like hell."

  Looking down at the huge livid bruise, Elizabeth grimaced. The flesh was now a dark, almost greenish purple that faded at the edges to colorful shades of yellow, blood-red and blue.

  "It's not so bad. You know how easily I bruise. It looks worse than it feels."

  "Have you seen an orthopedic guy?" Mimi came closer, bent over for a better look and gently touched the insulted flesh with one crimson-tipped finger.

  "No, I had an X-ray in New York. It'll be fine. She stepped into the jeans, picked out a thick russet turtleneck from the stack of sweaters on the shelves at the back of the room-size closet and pulled it on over her head.

  With Mimi dogging her heels again, she went back into the bedroom and sat down on the padded bench at the end of the bed to put on her socks and walking shoes. As she worked she aimed a narrow-eyed look at her friend. "And don't think you can distract me. Explain about this bet."

  "Oh, you know how Doreen is," Mimi said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "She's between husbands and in the market for a lover. For the past year or so she's been trying to lure Max into her bed, with no success."

  Elizabeth looked up in the midst of pulling on rust-colored socks. "Are you sure about that?"

  "One hundred percent. You know Doreen. If she'd ever had Max as a lover, the whole world would know."

  That was true, Elizabeth realized with an unexplainable sense of relief.

  "When Doreen heard that you'd married Max she was pissed as all get out. She tried to save face by saying she'd only been kidding about him. And that he probably wasn't all that hot as a lover, anyway.

  "I couldn't let her get by with that, now, could I? We argued and one thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, we had a bet going."

  "I see. And just how were you going to find out?" Having finished dressing, Elizabeth ran a brush through her hair, then headed for the door.

  "We agreed to accept your opinion," Mimi said, scrambling to keep up with her. "Everyone knows that you don't lie. So, c'mon, sugar. Tell me."

  "No."

  "Aw, don't be that way," Mimi pleaded.

  "Sorry. I'm not going to discuss my
sex life with you or anyone else."

  In her comfy walking shoes, Elizabeth tripped easily down the stairs, but she couldn't lose her shadow. To keep up, Mimi kicked off her stilettos, sending them sailing over Elizabeth's head into the foyer below, and stuck to Elizabeth like a cocklebur on a sock.

  "C'mon, sugar. If you can't tell me, who else can you tell."

  "My point, exactly. My husband's prowess in bed is not fodder for gossip." At the bottom of the stairs, with one hand grasping the newelpost, she made a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn and headed for the back of the house.

  "Ooh. That 'my husband' sounded very proprietorial. Is there something going on between you two that you've neglected to tell me?"

  "No."

  Mimi groaned. "C'mon, sugar," she said to Elizabeth's back, hurrying after her. "Look, if you don't want to get into details, I'll understand."

  "My, that's big of you."

  "Just tell me, on a scale of one to ten, where would you rank him? Ten being the best."

  Elizabeth heaved a big sigh. "You're not going to let this go until I tell, are you?"

  Mimi grinned. "You darn betcha I'm not."

  They walked into the den and Max rose.

  "Ready?"

  "Yes. There are coats in the mudroom that we can use." Elizabeth bent and kissed her aunt's papery cheek. "We'll be back in an hour or so."

  "Yes, yes. I know. Now, be off with you. And have a good time."

  Elizabeth turned to leave, then stopped and looked at her friend. "Oh, by the way Mimi. That number you wanted?"

  Mimi's face lit up. "Yes?"

  Elizabeth's answering smile was smug. "It's twelve."

  Her friend gasped and her eyes bugged. "Ooh. Be still, my heart," she murmured, fanning herself with her hand.

  Max watched the exchange with a curious frown. "What was that all about?" he asked as he and Elizabeth bundled up in the mudroom.

  "Nothing, really. That was just Mimi being Mimi."

  They stepped outside into the cold. "She's a real character, isn't she?"

  "Yes. Mimi is one of a kind," Elizabeth replied with affection. Another blast of frigid wind hit them and they both shivered and put up their coat collars. Though the temperature was only forty degrees, the humidity was high and it felt more like twenty outside. "Why don't we walk to the river?"