Roseanne hung up the phone, feeling as though something important were now missing.
That would be a decent meal, most likely, without Win doing the cooking. She'd have to run out for another one of those frozen dinners, and they didn't actually have the gourmet type down here that she liked to buy in Seattle.
An unexpected phone call, however, saved Roseanne from this grim prospect. The female voice on the other end sounded breathless. In the background Roseanne could hear the challenging screams of small children.
"Miz Archer, is that you?" the female voice asked. "I realize this is short notice, which is how everything seems to get done around here, but would you like to join us for supper?"
The voice sounded hospitable and welcoming. Roseanne felt she would like the woman immediately. "I'd love to," she replied, smiling. "Although maybe I'd better find out who I'm speaking with first."
"Oh, silly me!" The voice sounded appalled. "I'm Meredith, Win's sister. Not the one you met last night, but the other one."
"Ah, Meredith." That would make her the sister next in birth order after Win, which was the exact extent of Roseanne's knowledge about her. She briefly considered the risk of exposing her ignorance on this, as well as a host of other topics, by accepting an invitation without Win. "I would love to come," she said carefully, loneliness warring with caution. "But Win is working late tonight. I don't know when he'll be home."
"Oh, Win." Meredith's tone was tolerantly dismissive, as though her brother were a minor character in this drama. "If you wait for him to be available, you'll never have a social life. Come on over by yourself. We'd love to meet you!"
The sheer welcome in the other woman's voice would have been Roseanne's undoing even if she weren't so lonely and bored. All right, so she was ignorant about the details of Win's life and his family. This was supposed to be a shotgun romance anyway. A little ignorance made sense. "If you give me directions I can drive myself over."
"Oh, you rented a car?"
"No, I'll use Win's Caddy."
There was a short, expressive silence. "Win is letting you drive his Cadillac?"
Roseanne had to think about that. Had he 'let her' drive it? As far as she could recall, she'd simply found the keys and climbed in. On the other hand, he hadn't complained. "Is that unusual?"
Meredith let out a breath. "I'll say. I doubt Win even let Sylvia use that car. It's his baby, you know. He bought it as a junk heap and fixed it up himself."
Come to think of it, Roseanne remembered a certain satisfied pride when Win sat behind the wheel. "Yes, he's good with machines," she said aloud.
Meredith didn't seem to hear her. "I guess Belinda was right," she gushed in awe. "This is the real deal. Can't wait to meet you!"
With such encouragement, it was easy for Roseanne to ignore the voice of caution and simply look forward to meeting Win's sister and her family.
She was not disappointed in her welcome. Meredith and her dark-faced, quiet husband lived in a sprawling, chaotic house in yet another comfortable suburb. Included in the family were two small boys of indeterminate grade school age. They exhibited an initial and intense curiosity about Roseanne, which gradually waned during supper, and disappeared completely once the meal was done and their favorite television show aired.
"I know it's politically incorrect and all that," Meredith sighed, falling into the cushions of the living room sofa. "But television sure comes in handy when you want a moment's peace."
Gilbert, Meredith's husband, had excused himself after the meal to do some work. Roseanne gathered that he was somehow involved in the oil business, but not in Samuel Carruthers' company. The deft way in which this issue was skirted told her the situation was a little touchy.
That left Roseanne alone with Meredith and the prospect of a cozy girlish chat. She felt the familiar rush of adrenaline she got when standing up in court. During dinner, the talk had been polite and easy, limited mostly to Roseanne's background and profession. Now, Roseanne sensed, they were going to get down to the good stuff. She'd have to be light on her toes.
Meredith started right out with the heavy cannon. "The big question, of course, is if what Mom told Belinda is true. Roseanne—" Meredith lowered her voice dramatically. "Are you really pregnant?"
Roseanne felt blood rush into her face. Truly, she hadn't blushed so much since coming to Texas.
"No, no, no. Never mind," Meredith quickly amended, pressing a hand to Roseanne's arm. "It's none of my business. Don't know what got into me—"
"Your two boys are sweet," Roseanne interjected, both to deflect the subject and to allay Meredith's obvious embarrassment, which nearly rivalled her own. "And smart, too."
Meredith's long face broke into a proud smile. She was built tall and lean, like her brother, although with softer, more feminine lines. "They are smart, aren't they? Which means they must take after their father. God knows I was no brain in school. Not like Win." Meredith shook her head and pulled a toy caboose from between the sofa cushions. "But poor Win shows what it's like to be a little too smart."
"How do you mean?" Roseanne pulled her legs up on the sofa and made herself comfortable.
"Well, it was obvious early on that Win was smarter than the other kids. My Dad loved it. He told Win he was going to be able to do great things."
"Nothing like putting the old pressure on."
"Exactly," Meredith agreed. "I don't know if it was my Dad filling him with all this Great Responsibility crud or the fact Win couldn't find any friends who could talk on his level, but he sort of drifted into his own world."
Roseanne nodded. "I noticed that the first time I met him." She was finding it surprisingly easy to engage in this close discussion about Win, as if she were in a real relationship with him. "There is a certain remoteness about him, as though he's not quite in touch with the rest of us."
Meredith gave Roseanne a close look. "That got a lot worse since the divorce. Naturally. I'd practically have to drag him over here to visit, and then he'd spend the whole time with this faraway look on his face, saying, 'pardon, what did you say?' whenever you asked him a question."
Roseanne pursed her lips and rubbed a hand across the top of the sofa.
"Oh, I'm sorry! You probably don't want to talk about Win's previous—I mean, about the divorce and all that." Meredith's expression was deeply apologetic.
"Please, don't worry about it. Obviously, I know Win had a marriage before he met me. A six-year marriage. It would be surprising if there weren't still a lot of emotions revolving around that."
"That's just it." Meredith was suddenly intent. "Nobody can figure out what kind of emotions. Win was in love with Sylvia. That was obvious. What wasn't so obvious was why he divorced her. It was so sudden. Took everybody by surprise—not least of whom was Sylvia. When I saw her a few months after he filed, she still looked in a state of shock."
Roseanne bent to take a closer look at a loose thread on top of the sofa. "To tell you the truth, Win hasn't told me much about it himself. Doesn't anyone in the family know why he divorced her?" She realized she was probably more than healthily interested in the subject. Win's divorce didn't actually concern her; it wasn't any of her business. And she was quite sure that Win would not appreciate her prying. "Do you have any idea?"
Meredith sighed and shook her head. "Not really. Oh, I have a few theories, of course, but they change all the time. And none of them quite fit the facts."
Roseanne tugged on the loose thread and knew that, once again, her face was growing warm. "Do you think he's still in love with her?"
"Oh, no. No, no. Of course not." Meredith said this with great conviction. But there was the tiniest hint of a hesitation beforehand. Enough to indicate a certain level of uncertainty. "I mean," Meredith went on reassuringly, "he has you now, doesn't he?"
Doesn't he? Roseanne couldn't meet Meredith's sincere brown eyes. She decided to admit at least part of the truth. "To be perfectly honest, Win and I haven't known each other all
that long."
"Oh well, you can know Win for years, all your life in fact, and still not really know him." She gave a short, sad laugh. "My Dad, for example. He can't believe his lusty Texan loins spawned such a creature. I mean, Win hardly ever got into trouble growing up. He didn't race cars, get drunk, or chase women."
Roseanne raised her eyebrows. "A real disappointment."
"As far as Dad was concerned. He always considered poor Win a sissy. Which he wasn't. He was just serious, you know. Into thinking, not playing. But the final straw was when Win announced he wasn't going into the family oil business. Well that was that. He might as well never have been born."
"Starting his own company wasn't good enough."
Meredith shook her head. "My father believes that Win has deliberately rejected everything he ever tried to teach, give, or entrust to him."
"I'm sure that isn't really true," Roseanne interposed, picking up a hint of that in Meredith's tone.
Meredith raised her light eyebrows. "It's hard to say. Daddy and Win haven't gotten along since Win was a teenager. You know," Meredith mused, "I often get the feeling that Win somehow holds my father in contempt."
Roseanne thought about this as she drove home. From what she'd seen, Win treated his father with rigid filial respect. But this respect was the more visible by contrast to the seething antagonism between the two men. Could contempt and respect exist side by side? In someone as complex as Win, Roseanne decided, almost anything was possible.
He'd not yet returned home by the time Roseanne pulled his car into the garage. It was just as well, she thought, letting herself into the house. Strange thoughts about the man were going through her head.
Win's sister had accepted Roseanne as her brother's fiancée without a flicker of disbelief. The combination of Win and Roseanne had, in fact, seemed to make sense to her. This was odd, Roseanne thought, as she couldn't see that Win and herself had much in common. He was a scientist, she was into words. He was neat and organized. She was chaotic and unfettered. Win was intensely private, diffident to the bone. Roseanne was outgoing and enjoyed life on a very simple plane.
In the house, the red light was blinking on the answering machine. Roseanne clicked over the living room floor to play the single message. Win's deep drawl sounded in the empty room, momentarily filling it up.
More problems had come up than he'd anticipated and he would not be home until after midnight.
Roseanne lowered herself onto the Indian fabric sofa, frowning darkly. So why was it that with all of those areas she and Win did not have in common, that she still wished he'd be coming home soon so she could tell him all about meeting his sister?
She went to bed with no answer to her question.
CHAPTER NINE
It was still dark, for goodness' sake, when Roseanne pulled herself out of bed the next morning. She was determined to catch Win before he left for work. So, throwing on a pair of jeans and a sweater, she brushed her hair back with her hands and stumbled out into the living area.
He was seated at the dining room table, a glass of orange juice and a plate of toast in front of him. In one hand he had the front page of the newspaper propped up. God, did they deliver newspapers before six o'clock in the morning? This was a detail of life Roseanne didn't know, never before having woken this early.
His gaze lifted sharply as she came into the room. He'd already showered, shaved, and put on one of his tan and white outfits. A gold and silver silk tie completed the ensemble.
Roseanne ignored his less-than-welcoming glare and slunk into a seat at the table opposite him. "Did you see my note?"
"You went to see my sister Meredith." Stating this, Win indicated he had, indeed, seen the note she'd left on the table last night. He put the newspaper down and leaned back in his chair. "You just can't seem to stop making trouble."
"What are you talking about? I didn't make a spot of trouble. Meredith believed me. The whole family did, in fact. There wasn't the slightest hitch."
"No hitch." Win's eyes were as cold as the dark dawn outside. "Has it occurred to you that the more you insinuate yourself into my family, the harder it's going to be for me to extricate you again?"
"I'm just trying to do my job." Really, it was too early in the morning. Roseanne hadn't yet had coffee. She couldn't see the nuances of meaning Win seemed able to discover at this ungodly hour.
"Huh. You made good friends with Meredith, I'll bet," Win went on. "And the kids all met you. How do you think they're going to feel when they find out you're not marrying me after all?"
"Oh, I expect they'll get over it." Roseanne yawned, covering her mouth with one hand. "They only met me once. I don't think they've fallen in love with me or anything."
"Hmph!" Win leaned forward and picked up his newspaper, bending his eyes toward the printed page. "What are you doing up this early, anyway?"
Roseanne rubbed her forehead, trying to remember why she'd been so intent to catch Win this morning. "I must have wanted to talk to you," she admitted. It had something to do with making up for the whopper she'd told his parents, she dimly recalled. Also she wanted to stabilize relations between them after that awkward moment in the ice cream parlor. The brief rub she'd given his chin had really pissed him off.
It had also frightened her, truth to tell. Not so much because of the sexual aspect of the moment, though such had definitely been present. No, what worried her was the element of caring. Now she mumbled to Win, "I'm not sure exactly what I wanted to say, though."
If she weren't completely hallucinating, which was a distinct possibility, she thought she caught a smile tug briefly at the corners of his mouth. Now, that was a nice mouth Win had. Straight and strong. She wondered how it would feel kissing her. She wondered if Win had the same magic touch with a woman's body that he had with machines.
Roseanne's back went straight up and she shook her head to clear it. Win kissing her! A magic touch? Oh, boy. It was definitely too early in the morning. She was so tired, she was practically insane.
"Oh yes," Roseanne said. "Now I remember. Dinner."
"You mean supper."
"Stop trying to confuse me. I haven't had my coffee yet and it's dark outside, for pity's sake. Are you coming home for dinner—I mean, supper? I—" Roseanne hesitated, remembering she had to be careful how she phrased this. "I had an idea in mind of what I'd like to do tonight."
Win didn't look at her, but she thought he stiffened slightly. Did he not want to spend time with her? Was he that angry? But then he shrugged. "I suppose I could try to get home."
"Try?"
"That's the best I can do." His voice was flat. "I've got to go now." He reached to clear his plates from the table.
Roseanne watched as he took them to the sink, washed them out and put them on the rack to dry. In her apartment the dishes accumulated on the kitchen counter until there wasn't room for any more. Then, and only then, did she think about washing them.
"Win," Roseanne spoke as he reached for his briefcase. "It is all right if I use your Cadillac, isn't it?"
"Of course. Haven't you been using it all along?" He seemed to find the question mundane, checking quickly through the contents of his briefcase with a frown. "I'll shoot for getting home at seven," he told her, "but I'm not promising I can leave the office that early."
"You're home by seven-thirty," Roseanne informed him, "or you aren't eating with me."
He looked up at her, a sparkle of amusement flashing through his eyes. It was gone, though, as quickly as it had come. "I suppose that's fair."
There was an awkward moment right before Win stepped out the door. They moved briefly toward each other, as if there were something they both ought to be doing before they parted company.
But, of course, there was no special gesture needed just because Win was leaving the house. He halted in his tracks and Roseanne froze halfway to the entryway.
Narrowing his eyes at her astonished expression, Win turned and let himself out the door
.
~~~
As far as dinner went, Roseanne had a plan. She figured she'd put the whole meal together twice. That way she'd make all her mistakes the first time, and thus learn how to avoid them the second time. Surely by using this method she could manage to produce a meal.
To her relief, the scheme paid off. By seven o'clock she had a potato leek soup simmering aromatically on the cooktop. In the oven sat a fully stuffed chicken. A pot of rice stood at the ready, covered and waiting for the time to serve. She also had a cold salad and garlic cooked green beans.
The first time around the rice had gone sticky and the chicken burned. The soup had tasted more like dishwater than food. But Roseanne had carefully analyzed her mistakes and the results proved she'd learned from them.
The only thing lacking was Win. Wondering if he were going to show up made something flutter in Roseanne's stomach. She was so nervous by now that she almost wished he wouldn't.
Her own nervousness made her nervous. She was never nervous, and particularly not about men.
She set the dining room table with china plates and silverware. A pair of candlesticks turned up in one of the kitchen cabinets but Roseanne quickly closed the door on them, appalled by the image they flashed into her mind. This dinner wasn't supposed to be romantic.
What it was supposed to be was not so clear in her mind. She knew she wanted Win to stop ignoring her. Beyond that was some shadowy idea of returning to the friendship she'd enjoyed with him over the weekend.
She considered him a friend. The idea had only solidified in her mind since the night at the ice cream parlor. Okay, yes, that meant putting out of her mind the fact he'd left his wife. To Roseanne, this had always been a cardinal sin in a man. But lately she'd started to wonder if Win had been the only one at fault in the breakup of his marriage. The whole situation was murkier than she'd first imagined.
So she supposed the effort she was making over dinner was an attempt to set matters back to normal between them.
By quarter past the hour Roseanne decided Win was not going to make it home in time for supper. A slow relief wound through her, hand in hand with an intense disappointment. It was crazy. She wanted him to stay away at the same time she wanted him to come? It didn't make sense.
The Fiancée Fiasco Page 11