Fancy Pants

by Susan Elizabeth Phillips

  “Teddy here's gonna be my assistant while I regrip those irons over there,” Skeet announced. “Most times I wouldn't even think about letting a little kid help me regrip clubs, but Teddy's about the most responsible boy I ever met. He knows when to talk, and he knows when to keep his mouth shut. I like that in a man.”

  Francesca could have kissed Skeet, but since she couldn't do that, she pressed her lips to the top of Teddy's head instead. “I want to go home,” Teddy said abruptly. “When can we go?” And then Francesca felt him stiffen.

  She sensed that Dallie had come into the workroom behind them even before she heard his voice. “Skeet, how 'bout you take Teddy upstairs for some of that chocolate cake in the kitchen?”

  Teddy jumped up from the stool with a rapidity that she suspected spoke more of his desire to get away from Dallie than of his craving for her chocolate cake. What had gone on between the two of them to make Teddy this miserable? He had always loved Holly Grace's stories. What had Dallie done to alienate him so completely? “Come on, Mom,” he said, grabbing her hand. “Let's go get some cake. Come on, Skeet. Let's go.”

  Dallie touched Teddy's arm. “You and Skeet go on up. I want to talk to your mother for a minute.”

  Teddy tightened his grip on Francesca's hand and turned to Skeet. “We got to regrip those clubs, don't we? You said we had to do those clubs. Let's get started right now. Mom can help us.”

  “You can do it later,” Dallie said more sharply. “I want to talk to your mother.”

  Skeet put down the wooden club head he was holding. “Come on, boy. I got some golf trophies I want to show you anyway.”

  As much as Francesca would have liked to put it off, she knew she couldn't postpone the confrontation. Gently disengaging herself from Teddy's grasp, she nodded toward the door. “Go on now, sweetheart. I'll be up in a minute.”

  Teddy's jaw set stubbornly. He looked at her and then at Dallie. He began walking away, his footsteps dragging, but before he got to the door, he spun back around and angrily turned on Dallie. “You better not hurt her!” he shouted. “If you hurt her, I'll kill you!”

  Francesca was shocked, but Dallie didn't say a word. He just stood looking at Teddy.

  “Dallie's not going to hurt me,” she interjected quickly, distressed by Teddy's outburst. “He and I are old friends.” The words nearly stuck in her throat, but she managed a halfhearted smile. Skeet caught Teddy's arm and steered him toward the stairs, but not before her son had shot a threatening look over his shoulder.

  “What have you done to him?” Francesca demanded the moment Teddy was out of earshot. “I've never seen him act like that with anybody.”

  “I'm not trying to win any popularity contests with him,” Dallie said coldly. “I want to be his father, not his best friend.”

  His answer infuriated her almost as much as it scared her. “You can't just pop into his life after nine years and expect to take over as his father. In the first place, he doesn't want you. And in the second place, I won't allow it.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Like I told you at the quarry, Francesca—we can work this out for ourselves, or we can let the bloodsuckers do it. Fathers have rights now, or don't you read the papers? And it'd probably be smart to forget any ideas you might have about flying back east for the next few days. We need some time to sort all this out.”

  At some point in her subconscious she had reached the same conclusion, but now she looked at him incredulously. “I have no intention of staying here. I have to get Teddy back in school. We're leaving Wynette this afternoon.”

  “I don't think that's a good idea, Francie. You had your nine years. Now you owe me a few days.”

  “You kidnapped him!” she exclaimed. “I don't owe you a bloody—”

  He stabbed the air with his finger like an angry recruitment poster. “If you can't even manage a couple of days to work this thing through, then I guess all the stuff you told me at the quarry about knowing what's important in life is pretty much bullshit, isn't it?”

  His belligerence made her furious. “Why are you doing this? You don't care anything about Teddy. You're just using a little boy to pay me back for stabbing your male ego,”

  “Don't you practice any pop psychology on me, Miss Fancy Pants,” he said coldly. “You don't have the slightest idea what I care about.”

  She tilted up her chin and glared at him. “All I know is that you've managed to alienate a child who likes absolutely everybody in the world—especially if they're male.”

  “Yeah?” Dallie sneered. “Well, that's no surprise, because I never saw a kid in so much need of a man's influence in my life. Were you so busy with your damn career that you couldn't find a few hours to put him on a Little League team or something?”

  Icy rage filled Francesca. “You son of a bitch,” she hissed. Pushing past him, she walked quickly to the stairs.

  “Francie!” She ignored the call behind her. Her heart thudding in her chest, she told herself she was every kind of fool for having wasted even a moment's sympathy on him. She raced upstairs and pushed open the door that led into the back hallway. He could throw all the bloodsucking lawyers in the world at her, she promised herself, but he would never get near her son again.

  “Francie!” She heard his footsteps on the stairs, but she merely walked faster. And then he caught up with her, grabbing her arm to pull her to a stop. “Listen, Francie, I didn't mean—”

  “Don't you touch me!” She tried to shake him off, but he held on, determined to have it out with her. She was vaguely aware that he was trying to apologize, but she was too upset to listen.

  “Francie!” He caught her more firmly by the shoulders and looked down at her. “I'm sorry.”

  She pushed against him. “Let me go! We don't have anything more to talk about.”

  But he wouldn't let her go. “I'm going to talk to you if I have to hog-tie—”

  He broke off abruptly as, out of nowhere, a small tornado threw himself at one of his legs. “I told you not to touch my mother!” Teddy screamed, kicking and punching with all his might. “You butt-hole! You're a butt-hole!”

  “Teddy!” Francesca cried, whirling toward him as Dallie instinctively released her.

  “I hate you!” Teddy screamed at Dallie, his face florid with rage, tears running down his cheeks as he escalated his attack. “I'll kill you if you hurt her!”

  “I'm not going to hurt her,” Dallie said, trying to step back from Teddy's flying fists. “Teddy! I'm not going to hurt her.”

  “Stop it, Teddy!” Francesca cried. But her voice was so shrill she only made things worse. For an instant, her eyes caught Dallie's. He looked exactly as helpless as she felt.

  “I hate you! I hate you!”

  “Well, now, doesn't this just about beat all?” a female voice drawled from the other end of the hallway.

  “Holly Grace!” Teddy thrust himself away from Dallie and ran for one of the few safe harbors he knew he could count on in a world that was growing increasingly bewildering.

  “Hey, Teddy.” Holly Grace caught him against her and cupped his small head gently to her chest. Then she gave him a comforting rub across his narrow shoulders. “You did real good there, honey. Dallie's big, but you held your own just fine.”

  Francesca and Dallie exploded in unison.

  “What the hell's wrong with you, tellin' him something like that?”

  “Really, Holly Grace!”

  Holly Grace gazed at them over the top of Teddy's head, taking in their rumpled clothes and flushed, stricken faces. Then she shook her head. “Damn. It looks to me like I just missed the best reunion since Sherman got together with Atlanta.”

  Chapter

  27

  Francesca pulled Teddy away from Holly Grace. With her son clasped to her side, she led him out of the hallway and toward the front of the house, intent on taking him upstairs, packing her things, and getting out of Wynette forever. But as she walked through the archway into the living r
oom, she came to a dead stop.

  The entire world seemed to have gathered to watch her life fall apart. Skeet Cooper stood by the window eating a piece of chocolate cake. Miss Sybil sat next to Doralee on the couch. The cleaning lady hired to help Miss Sybil had just come in through the front door. And Gerry Jaffe paced back and forth across the carpet.

  Francesca turned to confront Holly Grace with Gerry's presence only to see that her best friend was preoccupied with wrapping her arm around Dallie's waist. If there had ever been any question in her mind about where Holly Grace's loyalties lay, her protective attitude toward Dallie had just answered it. “Did you have to bring the entire world down here with you?” Francesca snapped.

  Holly Grace looked past Francesca and, spotting Gerry for the first time, uttered an oath that Francesca would just as soon Teddy had not overheard.

  Gerry looked like a man who could use a good night's sleep, and he immediately walked toward Holly Grace. “Couldn't you have called me and told me what was going on?”

  “Called you?” Holly Grace shouted. “Why should I have called you, and what in the hell are you doing here?”

  The cleaning lady took her time hanging up her coat while she regarded them all with ill-concealed curiosity. Dallie studied Gerry with a combination of hostility and interest. This was the only man besides himself who had been able to send the beauteous Holly Grace Beaudine into a tailspin.

  Francesca felt a nagging ache start up at her temples.

  “What do you mean, what the hell am I doing here?” Gerry said. “I called Naomi from Washington and found out that Teddy had been kidnapped and that you were all upset. What did you expect me to do? Stay in Washington and pretend nothing was wrong?”

  The argument between Holly Grace and Gerry accelerated and then the telephone rang. Everyone, including the cleaning woman, ignored it. Francesca felt as if she was suffocating. All she could think about was that she had to get Teddy out of here. The telephone continued to ring and the cleaning lady finally began to move toward the kitchen to answer it. Holly Grace and Gerry abruptly lapsed into angry silence.

  At that moment, Dallie looked over at Doralee. “Who's that?” he asked, his tone displaying little more than mild curiosity:

  Skeet shook his head and shrugged.

  Miss Sybil rummaged through her needlepoint bag for her canvas.

  Holly Grace shot Francesca a disgusted glare.

  Following the direction of his ex-wife's gaze, Dallie turned his head toward Francesca for an explanation.

  “Her name is Doralee,” Francesca informed him stiffly. “She needs a place to stay temporarily.”

  Dallie thought for a moment, and then nodded pleasantly. “Howdy, Doralee.”

  Sparks flashed in Holly Grace's eyes and her lips pursed ominously. “I don't believe the two of you! Haven't you got enough trouble without looking for more?”

  The cleaning lady stuck her head back in the living room from the kitchen. “There's a phone call for Miss Day.”

  Francesca ignored her. Although her head had begun to pound in earnest, she decided she'd taken enough abuse from Holly Grace. “You just be quiet, Holly Grace Beaudine. I want to know what you're doing here. All of this is awful enough without you showing up to flap your wings around Dallie like some sort of ridiculous mother hen. He's a grown man! He doesn't need you to fight his battles. And he certainly doesn't need you to protect him from me.”

  “Maybe I didn't just come here for him, did you ever think of that?” Holly Grace retorted. “Maybe I didn't trust either one of you to have enough common sense to handle this situation.”

  “I've heard enough about your common sense,” Francesca answered just as angrily. “I'm sick of hearing about—”

  “What should I do about this telephone call?” the cleaning lady asked. “The man says he's a prince.”

  “Mom!” Teddy wailed, scratching the rash on his stomach and glaring daggers at Dallie.

  Holly Grace thrust her pointed finger toward Doralee. “There's a perfect example of what I'm talking about! You never think. You just—”

  Doralee jumped up. “I don't have to listen to this shit!”

  “This is really none of your business, Holly Grace,” Gerry interrupted.

  “Mom!” Teddy wailed again. “Mom, my rash itches! I want to go home!”

  “Are you going to talk to this prince fellow or not?” the cleaning lady demanded.

  A jackhammer went off inside Francesca's skull. She wanted to scream at all of them to leave her alone. Her friendship with Holly Grace was crumbling before her eyes; Doralee looked as if she was going to attack; Teddy was ready to cry. “Please...” she said. But no one heard her.

  No one except Dallie.

  He leaned toward Skeet and said quietly, “How about holding on to Teddy for me?” Skeet nodded and moved closer to the boy. The angry voices grew louder. Dallie stepped forward and, before anyone could stop him, hoisted Francesca over his shoulder. She gasped as she found herself upended.

  “Sorry, folks,” Dallie said. “But y'all are gonna have to wait your turn.” And then, before any of them could stop him, he carried her out the door.

  “Mom!” Teddy shrieked.

  Skeet caught hold of Teddy before he could run after Francesca. “Now, don't get yourself riled, boy. This is the way your mama and Dallie always carry on when they're together. You might as well get used to it.”

  Francesca shut her eyes and leaned her head against the window of Dallie's car. The glass felt cool against her temple. She knew she should be filled with righteous outrage, lambasting Dallie for his high-handed macho theatrics, but she was too glad to be away from all those demanding, censorious voices. Abandoning Teddy upset her, but she knew Holly Grace would settle him down.

  A Barry Manilow tune began to play softly on the radio. Dallie reached forward to punch the button, and then, glancing over at her, stopped himself and left it alone. Several miles slipped by, and she began to feel calmer. Dallie didn't say anything to her, but considering what they'd been through, the silence was relatively restful. She'd forgotten how quiet Dallie could be when he wasn't talking.

  She shut her eyes and let herself drift until the car turned into a narrow lane that ended in front of a two-story stone house. The rustic little house was set in a grove of chinaberry trees with a line of old cedars forming a windbreak along the side and a row of low blue hills in the distance. She looked over at Dallie as they pulled up to the front walk. “Where are we?”

  He turned off the ignition and got out without answering her. She watched warily as he walked around the front of the car and opened her door. Resting one hand on the roof of the car and the other on the top of the door frame, he leaned in toward her. As she gazed into those cool blue eyes, something strange happened in the vicinity of her middle.

  She suddenly felt like a hungry woman who had just been presented with a tempting dessert. Her moment of sensory weakness embarrassed her, and she frowned.

  “Damn, you're pretty,” Dallie said softly.

  “Not half as pretty as you,” she snapped, determined to squash whatever strangeness was lurking in the air between them. “Where are we? Whose house is this?”

  “It's mine.”

  “Yours? We can't be more than twenty miles from Wynette. Why do you have two houses so close together?”

  “After what happened back there, I'm surprised you can even ask that question.” He stood aside to let her out.

  She stepped from the car and gazed thoughtfully toward the front porch. “This is a hideaway, isn't it?”

  “I guess you might call it that. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anybody that I brought you here. They all know about this place, but so far they've kept their distance. If they find out you've been here, though, it'll be open season and they'll be lining up with sleeping bags and knitting needles and coolers full of Dr Pepper.”

  She walked toward the front step, curious to see the inside, but before she cou
ld get there he touched her arm. “Francie? The thing of it is, it's my house, and we can't fight in it.”

  His expression was as serious as she had ever seen it. “What makes you think I want to fight?” she inquired.

  “I guess it's pretty much in your nature.”

  “My nature! First you kidnap my son, then you kidnap me, and now you have the nerve to say that I want to fight!”

  “Call me a pessimist.” He sat down on the top step.

  Francesca clutched her arms, uncomfortably aware that he'd gotten the best of her on that exchange. And then she shivered. He'd carried her out of the house without her jacket, and it couldn't be much more than forty degrees. “What are you doing? Why are you sitting down?”

  “If we're going to have it out, let's do it right here, because once we go inside that house, we have to be real polite to each other. I mean it, Francie, that house is my retreat, and I'm not going to have it spoiled by the two of us going after each other.”

  “That's ridiculous.” Her teeth began to chatter. “We have things to talk about, and I don't think we're going to be able to do it without getting upset.”

  He patted the step next to him.

  “I'm freezing,” she said, thumping down at his side, but even as she complained, she found herself secretly pleased by the idea of a house where no arguments were allowed. What would happen to human relationships if there were more houses like this one? Only Dallie could have thought of something so interesting. Surreptitiously, she moved closer to his warmth. She'd forgotten how good he always smelled—like soap and clean clothes. “Why don't we sit in the car?” she suggested. “You only have on a flannel shirt. You can't be all that warm yourself.”