Gray Wolf's Woman

by Peggy Webb

  Josie spoke politely to Claudia, but then grabbed Pippa’s hand, pleading, “Mommy, come into the water.”

  “All right, darling.” Laughing, she allowed herself to be dragged down the beach.

  Luke would have followed, but Claudia laid a hand on his arm. “Luke, she’s a great kid, but are you sure she’s yours?”

  “You’ve been talking to Dominique,” he said, still looking out to sea where Pippa and Josie were splashing each other and laughing.

  “Maybe I have,” Claudia persisted, “but it’s still a fair question.”

  “Not to me. Dominique is suspicious because she’s only just heard about Josie. But I’ve known from the start. Pippa called me when she knew she was pregnant, and we’ve stayed in touch all this time.”

  “That still doesn’t prove Josie is yours.”

  “Okay, for one thing there’s the timing. She was conceived while Pippa and I were living together, and Pippa sure as hell wasn’t seeing anyone else, not the way we—” he coughed and reddened “—never mind. That’s not the real reason.”

  “So what is?”

  “Pippa. The kind of person she is. There’s nobody more honest. It made her special. She even made me honest for a while.”

  “You?”

  “Yeah, hilarious isn’t it? But we had something that—well, anyway, if she says it’s true, it’s true.”

  “And now she’s turned up, after all these years?”

  “She wanted me to meet Josie, and she was right. I left it too long.”

  “Sure she hasn’t come back for you?”

  “Well if she has, she’s going about it a damned funny way,” he growled. “Last night I got warned off—at least, I think so. It was hard to tell, but it sure wasn’t a come-on.”

  “Darling, that’s the oldest trick in the book. She’d have been very silly to throw herself straight into your arms.”

  “No,” he growled. “I told you she isn’t like that. Hell!”

  A large wave had swooped out of nowhere and knocked Josie and Pippa off their feet. As they floundered to pick themselves up, Luke was racing down the beach, plunging into the water, picking them up, asking urgent questions.

  Josie made large gestures, delighted with the experience and trying to describe it to her father. Pippa was laughing as she wrung the water out of her hair. For a moment the dazzling sun threw the three of them into silhouette like figures on a frieze. Then another big wave came, causing Luke to move instinctively to shield the other two. Claudia watched for a while before walking thoughtfully into the water to join them.

  They spent the rest of the morning together, and when they parted it was agreed that Claudia would join them that evening at Luke’s Other Place.

  “I’ve got to be there tonight,” Luke explained to Pippa, “because they’re doing the cooking for tomorrow’s shows. So we’ll check out the kitchens, and you can tell me what you think.”

  “Until tonight, then,” Claudia said, blew a kiss in the general direction of them, and hurried out to her car. As soon as she settled behind the wheel she dialed a number on her car phone.

  “Dominique? I’ve just left Luke—yes, I’ve met her, and the child, and I’m very glad you called me. Certainly something needs to be done, and the sooner the better. Be at Luke’s Other Place this evening, at nine o’clock—no, just leave the details to me.”

  Chapter Six

  Luke’s Other Place was halfway along Manhattan Avenue. His first restaurant was glamorous, upmarket and very expensive. This one was fun. The prices were reasonable, the range of food wide, with a strong emphasis on Latin American because Luke loved it. Also he’d recently engaged Ramon, a Mexican genius whom he overpaid while skillfully picking his brains.

  The decor suggested beach life. One whole wall was given up to a painting of Manhattan Beach Pier done by a local artist. Anyone sitting at one of the tables might think he’d dropped in to a picnic.

  Behind the carefully rustic scenes, the kitchens were state-of-the-art, with flashing lights and buzzers on the gleaming ovens. Luke showed them all over, carefully explaining to Josie that each dish he would need next day was being cooked three times over, to three different stages. Josie nodded and asked some intelligent questions, which pleased her father to bursting point. Then she began to prowl around, asking more questions of the staff, who loved her.

  “You did it,” Pippa said to Luke. “Just as you said.”

  “I hoped you’d think so.”

  “Mind you, it’s not exactly the Ritz, is it?”

  He laughed “You should see the first restaurant.”

  They dined on Creole pasta, followed by fillet of salmon, grilled with ginger, lime and sesame glaze, which sent Josie into seventh heaven. She was even more thrilled at what was to come. Luke’s Other Place was famous for its vast array of ice creams and toppings.

  Pippa was happy for her, but her own feelings were more complicated. As she’d said to Luke, he’d done it. It was she who was still stranded in culinary mediocrity. Then she pulled herself together. As though it could matter now!

  She became aware that Luke was staring at something, dismay all over his face. Following his gaze, she saw Dominique standing statuesquely in the entrance, dressed to kill, looking around her. Claudia promptly got to her feet and went to meet her, hands extended, smile blazing.

  “What brought her here?” Luke muttered. “She never comes to this place, it’s not grand enough for her.”

  Claudia was bringing Dominique ruthlessly over. The model gritted her teeth at the sight of Luke in the center of a family party. He grinned and blew her a kiss.

  “Hi, honey. Glad you could make it here at last. I told you you’d love it. You know everyone, don’t you?”

  “We met yesterday,” she said graciously.

  “You’re the lady without any clothes on,” Josie declared innocently. She looked around the dumbstruck group. “Well, she was.”

  “Not quite,” Luke said hastily. “Dominique, what can I get you?”

  “Something fat-free,” Dominique said faintly.

  “You’ve come to the wrong place for that,” Josie confided. “It’s all crawling with calories and disgustingly delicious, isn’t it, Daddy?”

  “Hush brat, do you want to put me out of business?” he said with a grin.

  “I’ll have a salad and some mineral water,” Dominique said austerely.

  Luke summoned a waiter and relayed the order.

  “Daddy,” Josie said pathetically.

  “I haven’t forgotten you, honey.” To Dominique he confided, “We were just about to study the ice cream question in great depth.”

  “Can we go back to the kitchen?” Josie asked eagerly.

  “No need, here it is.”

  A huge circular trolley was being wheeled toward. It had five tiers, each adorned with tubs of ice cream and toppings.

  “Yummy!” Josie and Claudia said with one voice.

  Pippa, too, was fond of ice cream, and it developed into a three-way argument with Luke acting as referee. Dominique, dining on a puritanical salad and a virtuous mineral water, was left isolated and ridiculous—as perhaps Claudia had foreseen.

  Josie regarded her with pity from behind a mountain of many flavored ice creams topped off with chocolate sauce that was truly “disgustingly delicious.”

  “Wouldn’t you much rather have ice cream?” she asked. “It’s ever so nice.”

  “No thank you,” Dominique said. “I need to think of my figure.”

  “But you’ve got a smashing figure,” Josie said generously.

  “Thank you.” Dominique relaxed a little.

  “Do you have to work really, really hard at it?”

  “That’s enough, Josie,” Luke said hastily. “Eat your ice cream before it melts.”

  “Any swaps for my pistachio?” Claudia enquired. “Josie, your raspberry looks delicious.”

  There was a general swapping, with long spoons moving back and forth and
a lot of laughter. Then Pippa and Josie simultaneously made a takeover bid for Claudia’s coffee and nut, and in the resulting melee a huge dollop landed on Luke’s favorite pair of five-hundred-dollar slacks.

  “Oh, dear,” Pippa said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry, Daddy,” Josie said.

  “Yes, it’s a pity, isn’t it?” he said ruefully. “A real waste of good ice cream.”

  Josie giggled.

  “How about you?” Luke turned solicitously to Dominique, beside him. “Did any go over you?”

  “Luckily, no,” she said. “But I’ve just remembered an urgent appointment. Good night, everyone. It’s been so nice.” She rose, gave the barest nod of farewell and stalked away. Claudia followed at once, and before they reached the exit the others saw Dominique turn on her. They couldn’t hear the words, but it was obvious that Dominique was in a sulphurous temper.

  “You planned this whole thing,” she spat at Claudia.

  “I’ve done you a favor.”

  “You said something needed to be done—”

  “And I’ve done it. On the beach this morning I saw a side of Luke I’ve never seen before. Now you’ve seen it, too, and I’ve saved you wasting any more time on a man you can’t win. Luke’s spoken for. I guess he’s been spoken for for the last eleven years, even if nobody knew it, including Luke.”

  “That dowdy little nobody—”

  “Wise up, Dominique. He cares about her. I saw that in the first five minutes. I don’t know if he’s in love with her, but he cares about her in a way that he doesn’t care about anyone else, except Josie. One day you’ll thank me.”

  “Well, don’t hold your breath.” Dominique swept out.

  “Was it accident that she showed up tonight?” Luke demanded when Claudia returned to them.

  “No,” she said calmly. “I sent for her. It seemed only kind to make her face facts.”

  “Thanks,” Luke muttered. “Guess you came to my rescue again.”

  “Someone always does, Luke,” Claudia said tartly. “That’s how you fix things. Someday you’ll find yourself in a situation you can’t fix.”

  Without waiting for his answer, she turned to Pippa and gave her a broad wink. Pippa had only half followed the conversation, but now she saw that Claudia’s eyes were honest, humorous and shrewd. This woman was nobody’s fool, she thought, beginning to like her.

  Luke’s show was recorded at the studios of GFI-Cable, on Marine Street. One show in the morning and two in the afternoon made a long day, and they set out very early next morning.

  “Don’t expect too much,” he warned on the journey. “This isn’t NBC or any of those big-time stations. We just work out of a cellar.”

  Ten minutes later he swung down into an underground parking lot, and they made their way to the studio, which Pippa thought was a good deal smarter than he’d made it sound, although far from grand. Josie seemed entranced by the cameras, the lights overhead and the people wandering around with clipboards. Best of all was the set, done up to look like a traditional kitchen with copper pans and glowing wooden doors. The walls were red. The work surfaces were red. The knobs and handles were brass. Remembering the clinical precision of Luke’s real kitchens Pippa studied this rustic kitsch with amusement.

  She’d always known that easygoing Luke could be a dictator, even a tyrant, where his work was concerned. But the years had developed him. On the journey to the studio he’d used his car phone to check that the food was on its way. The discovery that it wasn’t brought forth a few crisp words that left no doubt of Luke’s feelings. They reached the studio to find the van just ahead of them, already being unloaded by two of his employees. He bounded out of the car and gave them a stream of instructions, ending with, “And don’t start the microwave until I tell you.”

  They wouldn’t have dared. Pippa half expected them to salute.

  He ushered them into the studio and introduced them around. And that was how they met Ritchie who, for pure entertainment value, was one of the great experiences of Pippa’s life.

  It seemed that nobody had told Ritchie that this was a small cable station. His hair was elegantly blow-dried, his puce shirt was open to the waist, showing an expanse of tanned chest against which a gold chain gleamed. When he spoke, his voice resonated. He gave instructions as though beaming messages to the four corners of the world.

  One person hung on his every word, and that was Derek, a young man of downtrodden appearance who rejoiced in the title of assistant and ferried Ritchie’s inhaler from place to place, to help him cope with the kind of crises that engulfed all great men.

  Ritchie greeted Luke with the respect due to a star who had single-handedly doubled the channel’s subscribers. But his version of respect was like nobody else’s.

  “Luke, baby, glad you could make it!” he exclaimed, as though Luke had risen from a sick bed.

  “I always make it, Ritch,” Luke observed mildly.

  Ritchie made a sound like a ruptured hyena. “You have to have your little joke, Luke baby! Now, are things all right? Is everything here just as you like it?”

  “Everything’s just as it always is.”

  “That’s what I like to hear. A satisfied customer. I just know today’s shows are going to be the most wonderful ever—”

  “I’ve a couple of people I’d like you to meet,” Luke said, breaking into the cloud of hyperbole. “This is Pippa, and this is Josie, her daughter—and mine.”

  Ritchie was wide-eyed. “You…have…a…daughter?” he gasped, in a tone that implied Luke had invented nuclear physics. He surveyed Pippa and Josie as though they were an alien species. “Well now—well now—I just never dreamed—”

  “No reason why you should,” Luke said affably. “But they’re spending some time with me, and I’d like them to enjoy themselves here.”

  “I’ll make that my personal responsibility,” Ritchie declared with fervor.

  “Seats in the front row.”

  “Well, that might be a little difficult—”

  “Seats in the front row, Ritch.”

  “Whatever you say. Derek, where are you? My inhaler.”

  At last the studio settled down and the rehearsal began. It fascinated Pippa that Luke got through this as fast as possible, passing from dish to dish with the barest outline of what he intended to say.

  “Don’t you have some sort of script?” she asked when he’d finished.

  He shuddered. “Perish the thought. I just say what comes into my head. It’s usually okay.”

  “And if it isn’t, they can always do a retake,” Josie said, beaming.

  Luke regarded her with fatherly disfavor. “Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “They can always do a retake.”

  “I should have warned you,” Pippa said, chuckling, “one of the joys of kids is that they’re always puncturing your little balloon.”

  He grinned. “I’ll be lucky if I still have a balloon when my daughter’s finished. Okay, here are your seats, middle of the front row. I have to go now. Bye! Have fun.”

  He stooped and kissed Josie’s cheek, laid a hand on Pippa’s shoulder and kissed her lightly on the mouth. Then he was gone, leaving her to realize that Luke had kissed her for the first time in eleven years.

  It had been over before she’d had time to think, the kind of casual salute he probably gave to women every day, thinking nothing of it. But it lingered on her mouth like honey.

  Be sensible, she thought. It meant nothing to him, and you’re not an adolescent anymore. But she felt as though a drop of water had fallen onto her parched lips after years in the desert. Her defenses tottered alarmingly. She didn’t want to be sensible. She wanted Luke to kiss her again. She wanted to kiss him back and tell him how lonely she’d been without him.

  She brought herself back to reality with an effort. The audience was beginning to stream in, and soon the seats were full of laughing, chattering people. Ritchie came out and gave a brief warm-up talk, then the lights went
down on the studio, up on the set, and there was Luke, wearing his most infectious grin, greeting the crowd as if they were old friends.

  He wore a red apron and red chef’s hat and he had a feast of cherry dishes. For the next hour he held them spellbound. Pippa watched in admiration as Luke produced a great, barnstorming performance. He had the gift of being able to project his real self. There was the cheeky charm, the crazy clowning, the hint that he’d found the secret of making life fun. And behind it, the perfect organization, each detail under control, everything planned just as he wanted it. In fact, there was Luke, writ large.

  Pippa and Josie joined in the laughter with everyone else. Josie’s eyes were shining and she applauded loud and long. “Isn’t Daddy wonderful?” she whispered to Pippa.

  “Yes, darling. He’s wonderful.”

  After the first show there was a break for lunch, and Josie and Pippa picnicked with Luke in his dressing room. Josie chattered a mile a minute, while Luke grinned. But the grin was wiped off his face when his phone rang.

  “Okay, okay,” he said, sounding exasperated. “We’ll just have to find something else.” As he hung up he was audibly grinding his teeth. “My suppliers have let me down. Now a couple of tomorrow’s dishes have to be changed.”

  “Can you do it at such short notice?” Josie asked anxiously. “I mean, can you do the rest of today’s show and think up new recipes?”

  He grinned and tweaked her nose. “For genius, nothing is impossible.”

  “Yes, Daddy, but can you do it?” Josie asked, straight-faced.

  Luke flung up his hands. “Great!” he told Pippa. “You’ve been teaching my kid to be a smart aleck. Come on, brat. Back to work, and your old man will try not to disappoint you.”

  Josie giggled, and they went out with their arms about each other’s waists.

  It all started again. Ritchie came out again, reminding the audience to greet Luke with the same enthusiasm as before, but he needn’t have bothered. They adored him, and the cheer, when he appeared again, raised the roof. He’d changed into fresh jeans and sweater, and the red hat and apron had been replaced by green and white, suggesting the salads he was about to create.