The Man She Married

by Muriel Jensen

  She turned away from a perusal of the bare walls to focus suddenly on his shirt. And with a gesture that completely surprised him, she pinched a small amount of fabric at his chest and said drily, “And he provided you with a change of shirt, I see.”

  He nodded, leading the way around the bar to the kitchen. “It’s all part of the employment package.”

  She looked around, nodding, then walked to the door that led onto a back porch. A fairly large pet door had been cut into the bottom.

  “Must have had a Saint Bernard,” she guessed, turning around and walking out again, following a small corridor to the bedroom.

  He indicated the empty room with its wide window looking out onto the woods behind the house. “I think Aunt George could be comfortable in here.”

  “Employment package?” she asked, his previous reply apparently just catching up with her.

  “Yes,” he said, leaning a shoulder in the doorway. “Hank was looking for a way to provide security services as part of his offerings. While I was having breakfast with him and some of the other guys the morning Paris abandoned me in the booth at the Barn, we happened to talk about my experiences in Iraq. Then I was playing with his kids in the lobby of the Yankee Inn and…”

  She looked confused and he felt called upon to explain that he’d just gotten the call from his business partner telling him to delay his trip, when the kids walked in from their swimming lessons. “They knew who I was,” he said with a grin. “And Rachel, I think it is, told me you shouldn’t get naked with people you aren’t married to.”

  Prue shifted her weight. “Yes, I’ve always thought so, too.”

  “Yeah. So have I.” Before she could offer doubts about that, he raised a hand to stop her. “I know. Never mind. Anyway, the kids also knew I was a judo master, so they asked if I could throw them. Hank showed up while we were doing it, and we got into a little hand-to-hand.”

  “You threw children?” she asked in disbelief.

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. I wanted to see how high they’d bounce. Of course I didn’t throw them. I just made some flamboyant moves and floated them to a landing. I used to do it to you all the time, remember?”

  On several occasions the playful combat had led to lovemaking. Judging by a sudden stiffening of her stance, she remembered the same thing.

  “You did judo in the inn?”

  “In a banquet room, I think. They’d just shampooed carpets and the room was empty.”

  She winced and shook her head. “Go on.”

  “Well, once I took him down a couple of times, he called for a friend of his working in the building and asked me to fight both of them at the same time.”

  “You won, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “So…he hired you as security director or something?”

  She was fishing. He could tell by the way she avoided his eyes, then made herself look into them. She wanted to know if he was staying. And she wasn’t sure if she’d like that idea or not. “No,” he answered, trying to make it sound as though he had no intention of staying. “I’m writing a security model for them. You know—what they need in employees, what they can provide and how they should do it. It’ll pay for the delay in going to Alaska.”

  Now she did look relieved. He tried not to notice.

  “Your aunt will need a bed,” she said as a complete non sequitur. “And a dresser and a chair. It’ll look more as though we’re settled here if our ‘guest room’ is well furnished.”

  He wanted to cheer that she was into making this work. But he simply responded, “Makes sense.”

  “I’ll have my things moved over from my mother’s for this room,” she said, walking into it, checking the wardrobe closet at the far end, pausing to look out the window. “Then you won’t have to buy anything.”

  “You’re sure your mother won’t mind?”

  “It’s our old set from the Albany condo,” she said. She caught his eye for an instant and he could see she was momentarily trapped in memories of that place. It had been wonderful, a sort of French Country oasis in their tumultuous lives. Then she shook her head to dismiss the recollection, and he was forced to do the same as they headed back to the living room.

  “Our bedroom’s upstairs,” he said, knowing the quickest way to relieve her of painful memories was to annoy her.

  She made a scornful sound as though she had no words strong enough to respond to his suggestion that they had a bedroom.

  Before they started up the stairs, he pointed to the only door on the right side at the back of the house. “Bathroom. Shower, makeup lights, exercycle. Hot tub on the back porch.”

  She went to look, then returned with a cool nod. “Very elegant.”

  He led the way upstairs.

  The entire loft was a bedroom. Had he had more furniture, part of it could have been sectioned off into a sitting area, but this way it was just one vast space. A large bathroom with a sunken tub and two separate sinks, mirrors and medicine cabinets occupied the far end of the room. Next to it was a walk-in wardrobe with enough room to hold clothing for a family of seven.

  “Wow!” she breathed in surprise.

  He went to stand beside her as she studied the largely empty closet. He’d hung up the two changes of clothes he’d brought and his overcoat. He remembered that in their small French Country paradise, she’d grumbled often about the tiny closets.

  “Your aunt will wonder why you don’t have more clothes,” she said.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to say that he doubted his aunt would be going through his closet, then he remembered his aunt. She considered nothing off-limits to her lively curiosity.

  “I closed the condo the day before I flew here,” he explained. “I left my clothes at my parents’. I’ll call Mom and ask her to ship them here.”

  Prue frowned over that as she walked into the closet as though unable to believe its size. “Then she’ll really be convinced we’ve reconciled. You’ll have to explain.”

  “No,” he disputed. “She’s so honest, she’ll feel compelled to tell Aunt George. Then where will we be?”

  She considered that, then turned to him, her wide eyes worried. “We shouldn’t do this.” She sounded as though she was trying to convince herself. “It’ll put your mother in the middle of a lie and that isn’t fair.”

  “We’ve already done it,” he said, trying to maintain a calm tone while praying fervently that she didn’t change her mind. “The wheels are in motion. It’s too late to turn back.”

  That wasn’t entirely true, but she seemed to believe it. She walked out of the closet, then turned to him. “We’re taking advantage of your aunt.”

  That wasn’t true, either, but she didn’t know that. And it was important she didn’t find out.

  “We’re letting her do a nice thing for us, for you, that she really wants to do. When you achieve star status, you can give her all the credit. She’d love that. Take a breath.” She had a nervous habit of holding her breath when experiencing a crisis of confidence. It was his opinion she was hoping to pass out and avoid the whole thing.

  Prue drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly and seemed to calm down.

  “It’s going to be fine,” he said bracingly. “It’s a little bit of a lie, but not big and awful.” Then he grinned. “And if you feel that badly about it, you can just make the whole thing true.”

  “Ha! Ha!” she scoffed. Then she swatted his arm. It was the first time she’d touched him in a year and he had to admit he enjoyed it.

  She walked to the middle of the room and folded her arms with sudden determination. “Well, if we’re going to do this,” she said, “we’re going to have to do it wholeheartedly or it isn’t going to work.”

  Now she was talking. “I agree.”

  “We’re going to need a few things.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “Photos, knickknacks, warm touches to make it look as though we really do live here.”
>
  He had to concentrate to keep the pleasure out of his voice. “I have a box of photos with my clothes that are going to Alaska with me. I’ll ask Mom to send them along. No knickknacks, though.”

  She was looking around as she thought. “I’ve got some things I can bring over with my clothes. And we’ll need a few more pieces of furniture.”

  “Sure. I opened an account at Fenton’s Furniture.”

  She shook her head. “No, we’ll go to the Bargain Basement.”

  “Where?”

  “The Bargain Basement. It’s a secondhand store.” When he would have disputed that he’d be happy to buy whatever she wanted new, she shook her head, reading his mind. “If we want it to seem as though we live here, things should look like they’ve been handled, used. She knows we just moved in, but our things should be old and familiar.”

  “You sound as though you’ve done this before,” he teased. “Tell me the truth. You’ve pretended to be married to someone else, haven’t you?”

  “No,” she replied with a direct look. “My heart was in it. You were the one pretending. Come on. I want to see what we need in the kitchen.” She headed for the stairs like Napoleon planning a campaign.

  He followed, ignoring her swipe at him. After all, she’d admitted that her heart had been in their marriage. It was going to be his job to lure it back again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  GIDEON DROVE Prue to her mother’s home in the new truck.

  She was surprised when he simply looped the lake and found the right house without her directing him there.

  “How did you know where I live?” she asked.

  “I knew you lived on Lake Road, too. I met Hank and the guys here to jog this morning. They pointed it out to me.”

  She couldn’t believe he’d been accepted so completely so quickly. According to the Wonder Women, the wives and girlfriends of Hank’s employees, the morning jog was an important ritual.

  Then something alarming occurred to her. “What are we going to do about the Wonders?”

  He turned into the bungalow’s driveway. “What do you mean?”

  She unbuckled her belt and turned toward him anxiously. “They know we’re getting a divorce, that we haven’t patched things up at all.” She put a hand to her forehead, wondering if this plan was going to fall apart before it ever really came to life. “God, every time I say that—‘patched it up’—I think of a giant canvas patch on a tent that’s collapsing.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, that’s what it’d take all right to fix us up. Prudie, relax. It’s going to be all right. I’ll just explain to them and I’m sure they’ll back us up.”

  “You’re going to explain,” she asked doubtfully, “that we’re lying to your aunt to get me an article in a fashion magazine and an advertising campaign?”

  He caught the hand she gestured with and squeezed it. “Relax. I’m sure I can put matters in a good light.” In the old days, he’d catch her hand to get her attention, slow her down. She was a little startled that he remembered that. And that she did.

  She froze for an instant, her hand caught in his, and felt all the old electricity. Then she yanked her hand away and pushed her door open. “Pick me up at nine,” she said, assuming the businesslike manner she’d used all afternoon. “And we’ll be at the Bargain Basement when it opens.”

  “I’ll pick you up at eight,” he corrected, “and we’ll have breakfast first.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” she argued firmly. Making plans with him was one thing, sharing the intimacy of a meal was something else.

  “It is,” he insisted, “if you want the rest of the town to see us together and become convinced that we’re reconciled. Just in case Aunt George falls into casual conversation with someone. She likes to do that. Get the flavor of the town she’s visiting.”

  That made an irritating sort of sense. “All right,” she agreed. “Eight o’clock.” She hurried into the house before he could say anything more.

  She was happy to see that her mother and Jeffrey were out, though her mother’s car was in the driveway. They’d developed the habit of taking a walk around the lake in the evening. That was good—she could pack a box of photographs and other keepsakes in private.

  She found a large box in the garage, took a stack of newspaper from the recycle box and went to work. She started with the family photos she kept on her dresser—one of her and Paris as children wearing mouse ears at Disneyland, one of the two of them with their father at the beach, Paris’s high-school graduation, the three of them with her mother backstage at her opening as Lady Macbeth in summer stock. It always brought a smile to her lips to look at those.

  She tucked them safely away in the box, then dug into the bottom of the closet for the photos that were harder to look at but that Georgette would expect to see while she was visiting.

  She tossed her white brocade–covered wedding album onto the bed, along with other mementos of her wedding to Gideon—her garter, the ribbons from her bouquet, the cloisonné earrings with a lapis center that Paris had given her for the traditional “something blue.” She loved them but never wore them, unwilling to deal with the memories they evoked.

  Then she found the photos of Gideon’s family—his tall, distinguished father and short, plump mother—George and Maggie. They were lovely people and had always been wonderful to her. She loved them like a second family, but looking at their smiling faces reminded her of all she’d thought she had and discovered she didn’t.

  She added the pictures to the box, took the alarm clock from her bedside table, a small jewelry box from the dresser and a poster of Audrey Hepburn wearing Givenchy that hung on the inside of her closet door.

  There. She dragged the box to the door, then heard her mother and Jeffrey in the kitchen, talking and laughing. There was the sound of puttering and crockery. The preparation of a snack probably, to balance the healthy exercise.

  Prue smiled to herself. Her mother had always been so disciplined about watching her famous figure, but now that Jeffrey had walked back into her life, she was far less preoccupied with herself than she used to be. Her work demanded it, of course, but she talked less about the next performance or modeling job now than she did about where she wanted to take Jeffrey next.

  Her mother was in love.

  Prue took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She had to tell her mother about the plan because, though Camille and Georgette had also met only once—at the engagement party—they were two of a kind and had liked each other. Georgette might want to see her when she arrived.

  Her mother would have to know the situation.

  Prue put a smile on her face and walked into the kitchen, where her mother was filling a teapot and Jeffrey was cutting a wedge of cheesecake into two slices. The tea shop’s lethal cheesecake was clear proof that her mother was besotted.

  “Did you have a nice walk?” Prue asked.

  “Hi, Prue,” Jeffrey said. “Shall I cut this in three?”

  “No, thank you,” she replied. “I just…wanted to tell you something. Then I’m off to bed.”

  Her mother put the lid on the teapot and carried it to the work center where two china cups and saucers waited. She sat on one of the stools and smiled at Prue. “Paris said she took you to see Gideon. She wasn’t tattling,” she put in hastily. “Jeff and I were going to dinner and wanted to know if you cared to come along. You didn’t answer the phone at the studio, so I asked if she knew where you were.”

  Prue accepted all that with a nod. “Gideon’s aunt Georgette called me. Remember her?”

  Camille’s smile widened. “Of course I do. Lovely lady.”

  “Well, she’s coming to Maple Hill.”

  “What? When?”

  Prue explained about the story in the Globe, about Georgette’s delayed wedding gift and her misunderstanding about Prue and Gideon’s situation.

  Camille blinked. “She thinks you’re still married?”

  Prue nodded. “Yes. I guess
Gideon’s mom is convinced he’s here to work out our problems and passed that on to Georgette. So when Georgette called Gideon, he let her believe it so I could have the opportunity she’s offering.”

  “Ah…well…that was good of him. So…” Her mother didn’t seem to know what question to ask next. “How are you going to…you know…handle it?”

  “I’m moving in there until she’s gone,” she said, looking her mother in the eye as she spoke and daring her to make more of it than it was.

  Her mother seemed just as determined to behave as though it didn’t matter. “If there’s anything we can do…”

  “If I can find someone with a truck,” Prue began, turning her attention to Jeffrey, “and a few able bodies, can you move my bedroom set, my clothes and a few boxes to the house Gideon’s renting on the far side of the lake?”

  “Of course,” Jeffrey replied. “I’ll be happy to.”

  Camille frowned. “What’s Georgette going to think if you’re sleeping in your own bed?”

  Prue struggled to maintain a bland look. “It’s for Georgette’s bedroom downstairs. I’ll be sleeping upstairs in the loft bedroom.”

  Camille’s calm expression wavered just a little.

  “I know,” Prue said with a wry smile. “That might be a problem for any other man and woman, but Gideon and I are so angry and disappointed with each other that it’ll be easy for us to share a room and never touch.”

  “Good.” The word was softly spoken, the smile that accompanied it completely unconvincing.

  “And I remember that the two of you really hit it off,” Prue added, going to the cupboard to get her own cup and saucer and pouring just a half cup of tea into it. “She might want to see you when she’s here. If so, please remember that at least until she leaves, Gideon and I are reconciled. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Camille concurred. “When are you moving in?”

  “Tomorrow.” Prue sipped her tea. “I have to help him make the house look as though a couple really shares it. He bought just minimal furniture when he rented the place, so I’m going to hit the Bargain Basement and find some things to perk it up.”