Met Her Match

by Jude Deveraux

  “I am,” Billy said. “But in return, I will give you my life. You will have it all.”

  She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go with Billy, knowing what she did, any more than she could make an effort to take Nate away from Stacy.

  She wasn’t so innocent that she didn’t know how much Nate liked her. Whereas she and Billy had been different people, it was as if she and Nate were two halves of a whole. Never had she ever felt so at ease with a person as she did with Nate.

  She’d had to teach Billy things. “No! Pick up that end,” she’d snap at him.

  One time she was so bad-tempered at his not knowing how to do things, that he’d put his arms around her—then fallen sideways into the lake. It had taken him an hour of kisses to calm her anger down over that.

  There was nothing like that with Nate. He’d done so much in his life that there wasn’t much she needed to teach him. And his way with people! She’d never seen anything like it. Billy was likable, but Nate went beyond that. He soothed people, made them feel better. He joined them, matched them up. He—

  Terri took a breath. They didn’t belong to her. Neither man was hers and was never going to be. It should help that each separation was her choice, but it didn’t.

  The truth was that she knew she could have Nate if she went after him. “Accidentally” landed in bed with him. Wore seductive clothing—or a lack of them. It wouldn’t take much to make him forget his promises to Miss Stacy Hartman.

  But Terri wasn’t going to do it. She wasn’t going to be like her mother and leave behind such deep pain that people never recovered.

  She wasn’t going to be that selfish. She knew that if she seduced Nate, forced him to choose her, Brody would say, “I just want you to be happy.” And that was true. But her father’d had more than twenty years of whispers about a wife who’d left him. He didn’t deserve more scandal about a daughter who’d slutted her way between a man and the mayor’s daughter. Dear Stacy Hartman who’d never hurt anyone. A young woman who was universally loved by all.

  If Terri got together with Nate under those circumstances, the town would be rampant with talk of her mother, of Terri injuring a boy who had a promising athletic career, of Terri killing the spirit of Billy Thorndyke, the boy the whole town loved. Add Stacy to that and Terri would have to disappear. Leaving town wouldn’t be enough. The town would probably hire mercenaries to go after her.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, then slowly got out of the chair. That was enough about the past. Enough wallowing in self-pity. She had a lot of work to do and she needed to put her mind to that.

  Chapter 11

  “It was the most romantic thing I ever saw in my life,” the girl said.

  Terri didn’t know the girl well, just that she was rarely without a book in her hand and she stayed with her parents in cabin number eighteen. Behind her were two other girls looking up at Terri as though she was supposed to make some comment. She was on a stepladder, staple gun in hand, electric drill in a holster at her hip. “Hand me that yellow box, would you?”

  The girl picked up the staples, reached up to Terri and gave them to her.

  The big tent Terri was working on had a tear in it the size of an ice crevasse. “You didn’t unroll this thing and check it?” she’d asked the three older women putting up the knitting booth.

  “Were we supposed to do that? We’re very sorry, Terri.”

  She sighed. They were widows and they’d spent the winter knitting really cute things for their stall. Of course they hadn’t looked at the tent for possible rips and tears. “I’ll fix it,” Terri said, “but only if I get one of those blue scarves.”

  Smiling angelically, the three women walked away. “I told you she’d know what to do about it,” one of them whispered.

  So they had seen the big tear. Terri was trying to decide whether or not to call their bluff when the teenage girls came running. They hadn’t stopped talking since Terri began pulling the canvas and stapling the ancient, moldy, falling-apart fabric into place.

  “Soooo romantic,” the second girl said.

  Terri knew they were hinting at something, but she didn’t know what. “All right! I’ll bite. What is so romantic?”

  “The house the mayor gave to Nate and Stacy.”

  Terri stopped stapling. Behind her, the three knitting ladies also halted.

  “The mayor and Mrs. Hartman had just picked up that cute Stacy from the airport and—”

  “She was in Italy.”

  “All the way across the ocean.”

  “Anyway,” the first girl said, “Nate was there and—”

  “That’s the Nate who was here,” the second girl added.

  “Yes, dear,” said one of the knitting ladies, and there was steel in her voice. “We know who Nate is.”

  “And we also know that he is engaged to Stacy Hartman,” said a second knitting lady. There was no steel in her voice, just sadness with a dash of disbelief.

  “The house had a big ribbon on the door.”

  “What house?” a knitting lady asked.

  “That old Stanton place,” a girl said. “I thought it was falling down. Why would Stacy want that? She’s so pretty she could be a model. And she’s—”

  “Too short to be a model,” the first knitting lady snapped. “What was going on at that old house?”

  “The mayor gave it to Stacy and Nate as a wedding gift. He gave them a key in a box.”

  “It had white velvet inside. It was really pretty. And Stacy unlocked the door.”

  “And inside was a picnic on the floor. With a white tablecloth and candles and a basket of food.” The girl sighed loudly.

  “And the mayor gave everyone a glass of champagne. I had a sip. It was wonderful!”

  “Stacy was so happy she was in tears. She was hugging her parents hard.”

  “And what did Nate say?” the first knitting lady asked.

  “He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look too happy. I thought he liked boats better.”

  “But he carried Stacy over the threshold, then she shut the door so they could be alone.” At that image, the girls giggled in a suggestive way.

  The third girl gave Terri a sly look. “I thought he liked you.”

  The first knitting lady stepped forward. “Does your mother know you’ve been drinking alcoholic beverages?”

  “She’s too busy drinking herself to notice what I do,” the girl said with another giggle, then the three of them turned and ran away.

  “They’re never too young to start being bitches, are they?” the third lady said.

  “Terri...” the first knitting lady began.

  She turned on the ladder to look down at them. “Nate and I are friends. Got it? I’ve always known he was engaged. There’s never been anything between us of a...a romantic nature. Friends. That’s all.” She turned back to the tent and began stapling.

  Behind her, the three ladies looked at each other in sadness, then went back to unloading boxes.

  Good! Terri told herself. She was succeeding at keeping her feelings under cover. Considering how she’d lost it this morning, she was proud of herself. After she’d sat outside and indulged herself in useless memories of the past, she’d given herself a pep talk. Think of the future, not the past! But then, she’d walked into a barren kitchen and realized that Nate was gone. Really and truly gone. Everything had hit her with the weight of an outboard falling onto her and she’d burst into tears. Of course that was when her father and Uncle Frank and Elaine had decided to show up with her favorite cream-filled doughnuts. Elaine had immediately taken Terri into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face.

  “I knew it was coming so I shouldn’t be upset,” Terri said. “Nate and I are friends, that’s all. I knew that from the beginning.”

  Elaine had been silent, but her face t
old her thoughts. Nate was no longer their darling savior.

  When Terri went back into her living room, she had recovered—on the surface, at least. It took only a glance at the two men to see that they were furious, and it was up to her to make things right. “You caught me at the wrong time,” Terri said, then went into a defense of Nate. She could tell that they weren’t really listening to her. And their support made her feel better. She grabbed three doughnuts and ran down to her boat. What she needed was so much work that she couldn’t think.

  And she’d done well until the girls decided to tell her the details of Nate and his bride-to-be. She looked back at the tent she was supposed to be repairing and could hardly focus.

  “Terri!” a man yelled. “Two people are trying to put up their tents on the same lot. It looks like there might be a fight.”

  Terri got down from the ladder, handed the staple gun to the man, said, “Finish that,” then started running.

  “I have my own booth to set up,” he called after her. But then he looked back at the three ladies in their pretty hand-knit tops of pale pink, blue and lavender, and gave a sigh. “So what needs to be done?”

  By the time Terri got to the cabin, Frank was already there—and he looked as furious as he had been earlier. “Your father gave two people the same booth space.”

  “I signed up forty-eight hours after registration opened,” a tall young man was shouting at a little woman.

  She wasn’t intimidated. Her head was tilted back until it nearly touched her spine. “So did I. And you know it, because I saw you there.”

  Terri looked at Frank. “Who was first?”

  “Your dad clocked them at the same time, same everything. Identical twins at war.”

  Terri looked at the stacked boxes. The man’s booth was for handblown glass. Tall, artistic vases. Bowls with jewel-like colors in the bottom. Hers were pot holders and birdhouses and other crafts made by disabled children. While charming, they weren’t exactly artworks. There couldn’t be two booths more different.

  “Is there room for them side by side?”

  “No. We measured. Besides, they hate each other. She says he’s exploiting the masses and he says she’s making the planet ugly.”

  “Coin flip?” Terri said.

  “I was going to suggest pistols at dawn and my money’s on her.”

  “We could let them shoot Dad,” Terri said.

  “Now there’s a good idea!” Frank pulled a quarter out of his pocket. “You do it.”

  She reached for the coin but a big hand took it.

  “I’ll take care of this,” Nate said.

  “Don’t you have some champagne to drink?” Frank’s voice was full of venom.

  “Aren’t you worried that tone will make you grow cat’s whiskers?” Nate shot back.

  Terri had to cough to cover a laugh.

  Frank gave Nate a glare, then walked away.

  “It’s not good to anger a man wearing a firearm,” Terri said. Oh! but she was glad to see him. She thought that he’d join the Summer Hill crowd and never look back. She turned toward the tall man and the short, plump woman going at each other. Terri was standing as close as possible to Nate without touching him. “I hear you have a new house.”

  Nate gave a grunt in answer. “Don’t you think those pot holders look great with that glass stuff?”

  “Fine art with crude crafts?”

  “I think they’re an excellent match.”

  “Her proceeds go to charity.”

  “I bet he could donate 10 percent,” Nate said.

  Turning, they smiled at each other.

  They looked at each other—and for a moment their fingers touched.

  “I refuse to move!” the glass man shouted. “I will not give away my space no matter how much you beg.”

  “Beg! Why you egocentric, selfish, elitist! I’ll—”

  “Terri!” someone shouted. “A tent just fell into the lake and they can’t get it out. Could we use your boat?”

  “Absolutely not!” she yelled back, then looked at Nate. “You play mediator and I’ll rescue a tent.”

  “Lunch? One? House?”

  With a nod, she took off running.

  It didn’t take Nate long to settle the dispute between the two people. They both wanted the same thing—to sell their objects. Nate made them see that their variety of goods would bring in different clients. The man’s glass was so elegant that it would turn off the regular buyer. And her crafts were so crudely made that anyone in twenty-dollar shoes would walk away. Nate challenged the glass guy by saying he couldn’t make her things look good. Forty-five minutes later, they were like mother and son working together.

  With a sigh of relief, Nate left them. Where to now? he thought. Anybody with guns he could separate? Or maybe a fistfight. Anything rather than have no excuse to stay away from Stacy and her parents and... And that house.

  The reunion with Stacy—the woman he was to marry—had been awkward. Since no one was speaking to Nate, all his information about where people were going to be when had come through Bob. Nate was waiting in front of the mayor’s house when they returned from the airport.

  Stacy, ever happy, ever enthusiastic, had leaped from the car and thrown her arms around Nate. She was smaller than he remembered, shorter, and she seemed almost fragile. But then, he’d had weeks with a woman who would grab the heavy end of a motorboat and lift it.

  When she raised her face to his to kiss, he was glad. It seemed like months since he’d touched a woman. Days of yearning, of dreaming, of desiring. He opened his mouth over hers and—

  “Nate!” Stacy pushed away from him. “Not here. Not now.” She moved to point out that her parents were behind them.

  He released her and she stepped away, but not before she winced and rubbed her side. He’d forgotten that he wasn’t to be enthusiastic with her for fear of hurting her. With Stacy, words like gentle and tender were always in his mind.

  Mr. Hartman gave Nate a look of reproach and Mrs. Hartman put on her Sunday school teacher face. Yet again, Nate had displeased them.

  Silently, he followed them down the street, not knowing or caring where they were going. When he saw the red bow on the door to the old Stanton house, he wanted to turn tail and run. Up close, the house was worse than he’d thought. Peeling paint, rotten window frames. He hated the overall look of it—a sort of White House with its heavy columns—and the position of it smack in the center of town.

  When they got there, half a dozen people were already waiting. But then you couldn’t do anything at that house that everyone didn’t see. There was a big half barrel on a stand: an attempt to look rustic yet actually be sophisticated. Six bottles of champagne were inside on ice.

  What was Nate to do? Was he to declare that he hated the place right there in front of everyone? He glanced down at Stacy as she held his hand. Her face was a poster for happiness. She was so ecstatically happy that tears gleamed in her pretty blue eyes.

  Nate said nothing as he helped Stacy cut the big ribbon with the huge scissors, then stood back as she unlocked the door. When she paused, he knew he was to carry her over the threshold. What else could he do?

  When they were inside, Stacy did give him a little snuggle. As the growing crowd showed its delight—people seemed able to smell free champagne—she shut the door so they were alone.

  There was a picnic set up on the floor with white cloths, more champagne and a basket full of what Nate was sure was Mrs. Hartman’s bland food.

  He set Stacy down and even opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  “I have loved this house my whole life! It’s something Dad and I shared. He got a key from the caretaker and on Sunday afternoons we used to sneak in here. I know every inch of it. Come on! I’ll show you.”

  She grabbed his hand, pu
lled him to the stairs and he followed her up. With more excitement than he’d ever seen in her, she showed him room after derelict room. Paneling and wallpaper hung down in strips. Two ceilings were falling. She wouldn’t let him enter one bathroom because the floor was rotten.

  “I can walk on it but you’d go through.”

  The way she said it made him feel like the Hulk, green and cumbersome.

  Downstairs were the big rooms. A hideous kitchen, a family room with dark paneling. Stacy loved the little alcove to the side.

  “We can snuggle there on rainy days and read.”

  The built-in seat was so narrow that half of him would hang over the side. But he said nothing.

  The dining room had bow-front windows that looked out into... The backyard was filled with broken concrete blocks, rotting piles of lumber and a couple of old appliances. He turned to her in shock.

  “I know,” she said. “It’s awful, isn’t it? But don’t worry. I’ll clean it up. I’ll make it into a truly beautiful garden.”

  Then what? he wanted to ask. Their view would be of a bunch of flowers? He thought of the view he’d grown used to: the lake, the tall trees on the edge, the people in the distance.

  With this house, there was no privacy anywhere. Every window looked into someone else’s house. Maybe their kids would talk to the neighbors from one window to another.

  “What’s that look for?” she asked.

  “I was thinking about our kids.”

  “That’s so sweet,” Stacy said. “Do you think they’ll be dark like you or as pale as I am?”

  Nate had never imagined having blond children. “Like you,” he said, and managed to smile a bit. When she patted his arm, he realized how hard he’d been working out lately. In the gym with Jamie or lifting machines made of iron because Terri had tricked him into cleaning an old machine shop. For the first time in hours, he genuinely smiled.

  Stacy had her back to him and didn’t see. “Maybe our children will be runners and not bodybuilders.”

  Nate’s smile disappeared. He’d told her more than once that he was a powerlifter, not a bodybuilder. Well, maybe he wasn’t strictly a powerlifter, but... “I have to go,” he said.