Moonlight Masquerade

by Jude Deveraux

  “I don’t know how you do that,” he said.

  “I don’t know how you give life to people.”

  Reede grunted. “This morning I had three cases of hives, one of an ‘itchy place,’ and a pulled muscle. On a daily basis, it’s not exactly an exciting job.”

  Sophie couldn’t help frowning. “But the people need you.”

  “What they want is my cousin Tristan, who is part therapist.”

  “You mean that he listens to them?”

  “Yeah,” Reede said. “He listens. Done?”

  She wrote ‘Brittany’ into the clay and put the little giraffe on the dashboard so it could begin drying.

  The grocery was very high end and she was impressed. “I think I’ll need a place a little more . . . uh, human than this one.”

  “Don’t worry, Sara’s mother, Ellie, owns the store and she’ll arrange whatever you need. Hey! I know. I’ll get Sara to send Mr. Lang to you.”

  “I thought you liked this girl,” said a pretty, older woman from behind a tall glass deli case. “You can’t sic Mr. Lang on her.”

  “Sara will keep him in check, and besides, the old man likes pretty girls.”

  “Then he’ll like you,” she said to Sophie and extended her hand over the top of the counter. “I’m Ellie and Mr. Lang is . . . ” She looked at Reede. “How do you describe him?”

  “Healthy,” Reede said. “I have thirty-year-olds who aren’t in as good a shape as he is.” He looked at Sophie. “Mr. Lang is over ninety.”

  “Must come from a lifetime of driving people crazy.” Ellie didn’t seem to be joking.

  “I’m looking forward to meeting him,” Sophie said. “He sounds interesting.”

  “Whatever he is, he grows the best vegetables in the state. If he likes you he’ll sell them to you directly.” Ellie was straightening the counter as she spoke.

  “That sounds like a challenge,” Sophie said. “Any suggestions on how to make him like me?”

  “Throw a box over him,” Reede said, and he and Ellie laughed. “I’ll tell you the story later,” he told Sophie.

  “So what can I get for you two today?” Ellie asked. “I hear you’re doing soup and sandwiches at your new shop. How about desserts?”

  “No thanks. I have too much to do already.” Sophie started to say something about Roan’s ridiculous ad but he was their relative so she didn’t dare.

  But Ellie didn’t hesitate. “How are your creative employees doing?”

  “I liked the talented aspect,” Reede said. “This morning my whole office was giggling about it. Heather said her best talent was doing a backbend over a picnic table.”

  Ellie and Sophie looked at him.

  “I don’t think I was supposed to hear that.”

  “I think not,” Sophie said.

  “So now to get my foot out of my mouth,” Reede said, “we need some butter . . . It’s something orange.”

  Ellie looked at Sophie in question.

  “Butternut squash,” she said. “He likes that soup.”

  “What’s the name of your restaurant?” Ellie asked.

  “I haven’t thought of that,” Sophie answered, but lying made her glance away.

  “Anything to do with doctors?” Ellie asked.

  Sophie laughed. It looked like Roan had told what she’d said about naming it No Doctors Allowed. She glanced at Reede. “Maybe I should name it Now and Then.” She and Ellie looked at each other and laughed.

  “I don’t think I’m needed here,” Reede said, but he was smiling.

  “You poor thing. You want your usual?” Ellie asked.

  “Sure.” Reede looked at Sophie. “What sandwich do you want?”

  “Brie and cranberries,” she said, then looked up. “Oh. Sorry. I keep coming up with ideas for soup and sandwiches. I’ll take chicken on whole wheat. And—” Breaking off, she blinked a few times. “Phoenix. I’m going to name the restaurant Phoenix because . . . ” She trailed off.

  “Rising from the ashes,” Reede said as he took her hand and squeezed it.

  She smiled at him in thanks for understanding.

  “You two are steaming up the glass,” Ellie said, but her voice was pure happiness. “I’ll get the sandwiches while you fill your carts. Your prices won’t be retail and it’ll all be charged to Roan.”

  “Thank you,” Sophie said. “Thank you very much.”

  Ellie looked at Sophie, with a brief glance at Reede. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

  “Hate to break up the hen party but I have to get back to work. Who knows? Somebody may have a paper cut that I’ll have to tape together.”

  “I wish I could find a pill that would sweeten you up,” Ellie said, then looked at Sophie as though to say that was her job.

  Sophie put her hands up, palms out, and took a step back. Roan had said that she was, well, helping Reede’s bad temper, but it looked like it wasn’t much.

  “See you later.” Ellie disappeared behind the case.

  Reede got a cart and they went to the produce section. Sophie didn’t have a list with her but she knew what she needed to make about four big pots of soup—which should be enough for a day in a tiny town like Edilean.

  “How bad are you?” she asked Reede as she put yellow onions in a bag.

  “As a doctor? If the case is significant, I don’t think I’m bad at all.”

  “No, I mean your bedside manner.”

  Reede scoffed. “I’m not willing to sit there and listen all day if that’s what you mean. Do you need mushrooms?”

  “Yes. Make sure the heads are closed. Why did the people have hives? From allergies? Three people in the same day? Were they related?”

  Reede put mushrooms in a bag. “I can’t really talk about individual patients.”

  “Sure, I understand,” she said. “I just wondered because there have been a few times in my life when stress made me break into hives. When my mother died and I realized I couldn’t leave town to take my sculpting job, my whole body was covered in ugly red patches. They went up my neck and into my hair. My doctor spent twenty minutes with me while I cried.”

  “What did he give you for them?”

  “I don’t know,” Sophie said, “but he told me that every day I was to drink a glass of wine and laugh at least once.”

  “And did you?” Reede asked.

  “No. But I wish I had. Where’s the dairy section?”

  “That way,” Reede said and he was thoughtful as he followed her.

  “I asked them why the hell they had hives.”

  “Surely you didn’t say it like that, did you?

  “I did because I knew exactly what the problem was—or I thought I did. One woman had cat hairs all over her sweater. I’ve told her three times that she’s allergic to cats and to stay away from them.”

  “But she loves cats,” Sophie said.

  “Yeah.”

  “And the other woman?”

  “Same, but with strawberries. She dips them in chocolate, eats them, then scratches. When it gets too bad she comes to me.”

  “What about the last woman?”

  Reede was silent for a moment. “She was different. When I asked her what was wrong she burst into tears.”

  “At the way you asked her?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “But there was method to my madness. Hives are an indication of something else. It might be something self-caused like playing with the neighbor’s cats, or it might be from stress. If it’s stress, sometimes they won’t tell me unless . . . ” He looked at her.

  “Unless you catch them off guard.”

  “Right. She didn’t have time to remember her lie.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I can’t tell you the details of the case, but I sent Alice with her to a women’s shelter in Richmond and I called the sheriff, Colin. He’ll take care of the rest of it.”

  “And you said you had a boring morning.”

  “Tristan would have—”

&
nbsp; She put her fingertips over his lips. “I think what you did worked very well.”

  Somehow their conversation had turned serious and he wanted to lighten it. “Any plans for the third date? I’ve done some swinging from a cable out of a helicopter.”

  Sophie didn’t smile as she put cheeses in the cart. “I know that walking across beams and people pinned to trees is important and it’s very exciting, but sometimes it’s nice to be quiet. It feels good to sit together and do nothing.”

  Reede wasn’t sure what she meant, as the two things didn’t go together. He hadn’t chosen either of the first two events. That first night he’d planned a quiet picnic and—Well, maybe he had dressed in black, worn a mask, and arrived on an unruly horse, but the robbers weren’t his fault. Nor was the man with an arrow in his shoulder. On the other hand, Heather had told him a bit of what had happened and Reede had been rather forceful in getting Sophie to go with him.

  “Did you and the Treeborne kid sit around a lot?” He hadn’t meant to ask that and it came out with more jealousy than he’d meant to show.

  Sophie looked like she wasn’t sure what to answer, but then she went for the truth.

  “Yes, we did.” She paused, but before Reede could say anything, she said, “But we were hiding from his father and from the town. I didn’t know it, but I wasn’t considered good enough to be seen in public.” She raised her hands upward. “What I wouldn’t give for normal.”

  When they got back to the shop, Reede wanted to carry everything inside for her but she wouldn’t let him. “You have patients and they need you,” she said. They set the bags on the sidewalk, he kissed her goodbye, then left.

  As Reede drove back to the office he thought about what Sophie had said about being normal. When he was growing up he’d wanted normal. But circumstances—the town wanting “the other Aldredge” for a doctor, the woman he loved dumping him—had changed his life.

  When he got back to the office the first thing he saw was the little calendar by Betsy’s desk, the one with all the x’s on it. His impulse was to take it down and tear it up. Or order her to destroy it. He was sick of being reminded of what Tristan would do.

  But Reede didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he wondered if he could make her remove it of her own accord.

  “So who do we have coming this afternoon? Would you please get me their phone numbers?”

  For a moment Betsy just sat there and stared at him. It was the “please” that was turning her catatonic.

  Heather came in the back and didn’t see Reede standing by Betsy’s desk. He usually hid out in his office. “It’s turning cold out there! Did you guys hear that Sophie’s opening her restaurant tomorrow? I don’t know how she’s going to do it with Roan and his worshippers taking up all the seats. Between him and the doc—” She broke off when she saw Reede and her red face told what she’d been about to say.

  For a moment they were silent, then he said, “Heather, I want to thank you and your husband for cleaning up the mess in the preserve.”

  When neither of the women replied, Reede went down the hall to his office.

  “I love Sophie,” Heather whispered.

  “I think we need to thank her. I’m going to start the grapevine that she needs customers.”

  “Good idea,” Heather said, and when she went back to the exam rooms she was smiling.

  All afternoon Reede worked on his bedside manner, trying his best to be . . . well, a Tristan clone. Unfortunately, he found that the more he listened the more people talked. By the end of the day he was well behind schedule. He texted Sophie.

  LATE PATIENTS. SEE YOU AT 6:30? DINNER?

  When Sophie’s phone buzzed she was so swamped with work she hardly had time to read. YES AND YES she wrote back.

  By four she had the last of the animals done and she set them on top of the big refrigerated glass case to begin to dry. They’d be fragile, not really playthings, but each one had the child’s name on it and she’d also put on her initials and the year.

  “They’re great,” Roan said as he came up behind her, then leaned toward her ear. “Not one of these kids would be good for the job. Too much talk and not enough action. I think I’ll ask the relatives to find someone.”

  Sophie was chopping carrots and the look she gave him said it was too little too late.

  “Here, I’ll help you,” he said.

  But Sophie could see that he wanted to keep talking with the kids. It looked like he was missing being a professor. “I can do this,” she said. “Go on with your new friends.” There were only four of them left. “They look hungry, so why don’t you take them out to dinner?”

  Roan kissed her cheek. “My cousin isn’t good enough for you.”

  “I agree,” she said.

  Sophie got everything cut up and ready to make into soup but she couldn’t cook it yet as she didn’t have refrigerator space for the big pots. She’d have to get up early tomorrow and start everything.

  As she cut and arranged and planned, some of the parents from the Williamsburg church came by with their children to get the animals. Sophie told them how the dried clay would break easily.

  “Don’t worry, this will go in the glass case in the living room,” a mother said. “And, Sophie, thank you for this. There were no nightmares, just talk of the potato dragon.”

  At about seven when she was just finishing for the day the Baptist pastor, Russell Pendergast, stopped by.

  “Should I throw my hat in first?” he asked sheepishly. She hadn’t seen him since that first day when she’d poured beer over Reede. Russell had known that she’d been about to start work for the man who’d nearly run over her.

  “It’s all right,” she said and Russell stepped inside.

  “It looks good. Very creatively done by talented people.”

  Sophie groaned. “Roan and his ad! I think he wanted to lure students to him and he did. I did manage to get them to do a little cleaning while they contemplated how the universe is going to be affected by their own brilliant selves.”

  “I was never that young,” he said.

  “Me neither.”

  “So you still have no help?”

  “Is that an opening into telling me that you know someone?”

  “I do, actually. Her name is Kelli and she’s had a hard time of it. She’s young and knows how to work.”

  “She sounds marvelous,” Sophie said. “When can she start?”

  “She’s on a bus to here now.”

  “I see. But what if I’d hired one of Roan’s kids?”

  Russell smiled. “Somehow I knew you wouldn’t find anyone through that ad. My wife told me I had to help you. She said I owed you for being a lying, cowardly wimp when I met you.”

  “Oh my! I think I really like her.”

  “She keeps me in line.” He was on the far side of the glass case and there were two animals left on top. “I’ve heard about these. You . . . ?”

  “I what?” Sophie asked as she dried off her hands.

  “Would you like to teach a sculpture class to our church members?”

  “I’ve never done any teaching and besides, these are just self-hardening clay and they’re very fragile.”

  “I know,” Russell said. “But what if I could get a kiln set up for you?”

  “Did Reede put you up to this?”

  “I have a more important Boss than him. I’m always trying to entice people to come to church, and if my sermons don’t do it, I use other things.”

  Sophie walked around the counter and sat down. She’d been on her feet for many hours and she needed a rest. “I don’t know . . . I’d have to think about this. Are you talking children or adults?”

  “Both,” he said as he took the seat across from her. “We have a lot of retirees in the area and they’re used to sixty-hour workweeks. They need something to channel their interest into besides golf. And there’s one man in particular who is nearly desperate to find a good teacher.” He smiled at her. �
�I can see that you’re tired and tomorrow is going to be a long day, but think about this. You’d have time around your classes to do your own work, and I can assure you that any equipment you need I can gouge out of my father.”

  Sophie was a little shocked that a minister would say such a thing.

  “Not that Father,” Russell said. “The one I share with Travis. Randall Maxwell.”

  “Oh,” Sophie said. “Isn’t he . . . ?”

  “Can afford anything.” Russell stood up. “Just keep it in mind and Kelli will be here tomorrow. And, Sophie?”

  “Yes?”

  “You know the old adage about not judging a book by its cover? That especially pertains to Kelli.”

  “Okay,” she said tentatively, as she had no idea what he meant.

  When Reede got to the sandwich shop that evening, no one was about. So much for Roan’s ad bringing in help, he thought. The front door was unlocked and he thought he should remind Sophie to lock it when she went upstairs for the night. It was one thing to leave the shop open when she wasn’t inside, but another to leave it unlocked when she was there.

  The lights were out and he could see that everything was clean and tidy, and in the back he saw something pink. Maybe Sophie had left a sweater downstairs.

  But what she’d left out was herself. Sitting in a booth, her head on her arms on the table, and sound asleep was Sophie. He didn’t need to be a doctor to recognize exhaustion.

  “Come on, baby,” he whispered as he kissed her on the temple. She woke enough to slide her arms around his neck.

  “No mask,” she said dreamily.

  He smiled as she nuzzled against him, her face in his neck. “No more masks. Just me, as naked as you see me.”

  “I like you naked.”

  “Do you?” He was smiling as he pulled her out of the booth. He knew he needed to carry her up the stairs, and of course he meant to do it the Scarlett and Rhett way, but the stairs were narrow and they’d never fit.

  Sophie solved the problem by clinging to him like a child, her arms tightening around his neck. It didn’t take much for him to lift her and when he did, she clasped her legs about his waist and clung to him.

  The deliciousness of Sophie’s body against his was almost more than he could bear.