Lean Mean Loving Machine: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Sandra Chastain

  “Aunt Jane,” he said, when she came to a pause, “this is Anastasia Lanham. She’s come to dinner.”

  “It certainly is,” Jane said in an intense voice.

  “And she’s descended from royalty too,” Alice Magadan added in an agreeing whisper.

  By this time Aunt Jane had turned away from Stacy and was sitting between Frankenstein and Dracula, hugging them alternately. “How extraordinary, how absolutely extraordinary. Not only is she perfect, exactly as I pictured, but she has her own bodyguards.”

  Alice Magadan stood beaming, as she looked from Stacy to Gavin and back. “You were absolutely right, Jane, about Gavin buying the land in Hiram, and now here’s Anastasia, my future daughter-in-law, just as you predicted.”

  “Mother, Stacy’s come to dinner, not to get married,” Gavin said with pleasant resignation and a forgiving smile. “Don’t mind them, Stacy, I told you they were a couple of eccentrics.”

  “Nonsense, don’t pay any attention to my son. He’s a skeptic. Come along, Anastasia. I want to know all about you.” Alice Magadan took Stacy’s hand and started toward the house.

  Aunt Jane, accompanied by Dracula and Frankenstein, started across the concourse like Cleopatra on her barge.

  After a few steps she paused, and commented over her shoulder. “I’m not sure where you left your clothes, Gavin, but we expect you to conduct yourself as a gentleman. We wouldn’t want Stacy to think we don’t know our manners. Come, boys, onward!”

  Stacy realized she hadn’t needed to worry about her simple linen dress. Alice was wearing a faded print silk dress, long out of date, but still lovely. Jane had changed into a flowing muumuu that seemed to have a stormy pattern of rain and lightning painted on a hot pink ocean. And Gatsby, the jaded playboy, had left her with his mother while he went to dress. When he returned, he was wearing tan trousers and a cream-color sweater that made Stacy think of pralines and ice cream.

  Dinner with the Magadans was a child’s wildest fantasy. Stacy finally decided that the only thing the two lovable women hadn’t prepared was mud pies, though one sauce looked suspiciously like gooey red clay.

  There was spicy fish wrapped in grape leaves from Madagascar, rice and fruit dishes from Thailand, and beans and tomatoes with pungent seasoning that she couldn’t identify from Brazil. They drank green tea and tropical punch while sitting on the floor at small tables, and listened to oriental music that sounded like chimes in the wind.

  After sampling and declining one of the dishes being passed, Gavin lifted his eyebrows in resignation. “Mother, would it be too much to expect something like spaghetti or corned beef and cabbage, or even plain old pot roast?”

  “Why on earth would you want that when you can sample the delights of the world?” Jane said, bringing in a covered pewter tray. She leaned over Stacy’s shoulder and swept the top from the platter.

  Visions of Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? washed over Stacy as she caught sight of the uncooked, white-skinned bird glaring up at her. She let out a half-aborted shriek.

  “Hell-o” Gavin said, and came to his feet, realizing what he’d almost said in time to yell at the dogs rushing toward him. “Sit! Sit, you worthless creatures, or I’ll let Aunt Jane barbecue you.”

  The dogs complied. Alice laughed and clapped her hands, while Jane glanced at the pheasant curiously. “Well, maybe it could use a little browning,” she agreed, and headed toward the kitchen.

  “I tried to tell her that olives and fish was quite enough for the main dish,” Alice said, “but you know your aunt when she makes up her mind.”

  With that statement she dismissed Gavin and the dogs and turned back to Stacy. “Now, tell us about your garage, dear. When do you expect to close it down?”

  Stacy felt as though she were having lunch with the Mad Hatter. She expected any minute to disappear through the rabbit hole and reappear in her little log house overlooking her quiet lake.

  “Close the garage?”

  In the mirror opposite the dining area Stacy caught sight of Gavin vigorously shaking his head.

  “I don’t understand.” She turned to Gavin. “That’s the second reference I’ve heard to the garage. Do you want to explain?”

  “It’s quite simple, I want to buy it.”

  “And my answer is equally simple: I don’t want to sell.”

  “I know. I’m prepared to negotiate.”

  “Is that why you brought me here?”

  “Certainly not. I don’t even want to talk about your garage now, Stacy. Later, when I’ve had a chance to go over all the details, I’ll tell you about my plans. For now, it will take all our wits to get through dinner. What is this green stuff, Mother?”

  “Poke Soufflé. We decided that if a soufflé could be made from spinach, it could be made from pokeweed. Just think what a boon that would be to the homeless. All they’d have to do is go out and pull up some poke. It grows along every underpass and railroad track.”

  “Good idea, Mother. But where do you expect them to get the eggs?”

  “Oh, dear. It’s not such a good idea, I guess, unless they have chickens. I suppose chickens in downtown Atlanta would be against the law. Officials are so tacky about those things.”

  “We’ll have to work on the recipe,” Jane admitted, grimacing as she came out of the kitchen. “I think it needs a little something. I decided to save the pheasant for tomorrow. Pheasant under Pewter ought to be as good as Pheasant under Glass, provided I remember to turn the oven on.”

  After a surprisingly ordinary dessert of Key Lime pie, they adjourned to the study for coffee.

  “Do you think you’re going to like being a millionaire’s wife?” Alice asked pleasantly.

  “I’m quite sure I don’t know, since I’m not getting married and I haven’t met any millionaires.”

  “Oh, but Gavin is almost there, or at least he will be by his thirty-first birthday,” Jane chimed in. “I know he’s disappointed that it’s happening a year late. But I say it’s better late than never. Don’t you?”

  “What my mother is trying to say, Stacy, is that I always said that I’d be a millionaire by the time I was thirty. I was thirty last September.”

  Stacy looked around. Everything was happening so fast that she couldn’t begin to absorb it all. Twelve hours earlier she’d been putting new plugs in Larry Greenway’s gravel truck. Six hours earlier she’d made a bet on a Braves’ baseball game. Now there she was, in a house so fine, she was afraid to walk on the carpet, eating strange dishes as if she’d been doing it all her life, and obviously being brainwashed in some weird way that she couldn’t understand.

  “You may not be a millionaire,” she sputtered, “but from the looks of this I’d say that you don’t need to worry too much about how you’re going to pay the light bill.”

  “Oh, we’re not worried about the power bill this month,” Jane reassured her. “The tarot cards said we’d see the light, so I paid the telephone bill instead. But don’t try to use the hot water.”

  “I’m afraid to ask, Aunt Jane, but I guess I’d better know. Why can’t we use the hot water?”

  “Well, it’s just that there wasn’t enough money in the checking account to pay the power company, the gas company, and the telephone bill. So I decided that since we could always heat the water, I wouldn’t worry about the gas bill. I paid the water bill instead.”

  Gavin walked back to his chair and sat. “Why isn’t there enough money in the checking account, Aunt Jane? I just made a very large deposit. It was to last you until I get the loan approved for the center and get my option money back.”

  “I—we—we spent it.”

  “On what? Not more exotic animals?”

  “Oh, no. We understand now about residential zoning laws. We gave the creatures to the zoo. But I did hate to give up the camel.”

  “Then what? Mother? What have you done with the money?”

  “We’ve taken a lease on a building. The same as you’re doing. We decided to op
en our own center, a spiritual center.”

  Stacy heard Gavin groan. She was holding her lips pressed together with difficulty. Any minute she was afraid she’d break into laughter, and she didn’t want the dear old ladies to think she was making fun of them.

  “What kind of spiritual center, Mother?”

  Alice beamed even more. “We’re calling it the Center for the Spiritual Odyssey of Man, and women, too, of course. We don’t intend to discriminate. We’ll give readings, counsel the troubled, and serve tea and peanut butter. That’s full of protein, you know.”

  “And best of all,” Jane chimed in, “we’ll be right where we can do the most good.”

  “I’m afraid to ask. Where?”

  “Right in the middle of downtown Atlanta. That way we can reach out to the downtrodden and confused, those poor homeless people who need our help so desperately.”

  Stacy couldn’t hold it in any longer. She laughed, covered her mouth, and asked, “Have you considered offering bingo on Friday nights? And you could offer fasting one day followed by free food the next.”

  Gavin studied Stacy with a half-veiled expression in his eyes that registered his surprise.

  “What a very good idea,” Alice said, nodding her head. “Jane, you were so right. She’s perfect for us, and Gavin will come around as soon as he sees how well the three of us get on.”

  This time his mother and his aunt had gone too far. Gavin still wasn’t convinced that Aunt Jane had any sort of psychic power or ability to foresee the future. But he had no other explanation for whatever had come over him with Stacy this afternoon. Aunt Jane had sent him to Stacy. Well, not Stacy specifically, but she’d made some vague reference to an old friend who’d once bought a garage in Hiram because the land was cheap. Then, Gavin had taken one look at Stacy and melted. The next thing he knew, he’d practically shanghaied her and brought her home to meet Jane and Alice.

  Nothing made sense. From the moment his eyes had met Stacy’s something had turned his mind into putty and painted his nerve endings with wild, uncontrollable urges. Even now his skin was tingling.

  Past experience told Gavin that asking Jane for explanations only made things more confusing. He’d have to figure it out—and quick—or poor Stacy would be so confused that he’d lose the garage and her as well.

  “Speaking of people getting along, Mother, it’s time I took Stacy home, before she runs out of here screaming.”

  “She isn’t going to do that, are you darling? You understood right away about our grand idea, didn’t you?”

  Stacy let out a long, deep breath and nodded as she allowed Gavin to take her hand and draw her toward the door. “Oh, yes. I understand. After all, I lived with plans just like these most of my life.”

  “Lucky you,” Jane said softly.

  “No, not me. Lucky was my father, and he was anything but.”

  “Lucky?” Alice looked up quizzically. “Jane, didn’t you know someone called Lucky once? A big, tall man with grand ideas. He was an athlete of some kind, if I remember right. Terribly handsome man. Right after you invested in his ice-skating rink it burned down, and he just disappeared.”

  “He died,” Stacy said. “Lucky Lanham was my father.”

  Now Stacy understood. All this was happening because of her father. She should have known, but it had been a long time since one of Lucky’s failed schemes had come back to haunt her. The lovely Magadan women fit Lucky’s pattern—wealthy, gullible, and charming. She’d been down this road before. But Gavin was an unknown factor.

  “Lucky Lanham, imagine that, Jane. At least we know he didn’t desert you. He died. No wonder he never made it back for the wedding.”

  “I knew, Alice. You always thought it was because he found out that I had no inheritance. But I always knew better. Poor Lucky. I scared him to death. He was a lover, but marriage wasn’t in his plan. That was all right. It wasn’t in mine either. But the cards did say he’d die with his boots on. Did he? Have his boots on?”

  “Yes, he did,” Stacy said, still in shock over learning that Aunt Jane had thought her father was going to marry her. After her mother died, Lucky became a confirmed bachelor. And if you could call having a heart attack while making love to a twenty-one-year-old jet-setter dying with your boots on, then Lucky had finally gotten lucky.

  He’d always joked that he’d won Stacy in a poker game, from a woman who’d had six children and two pairs. Stacy knew better. Her mother had been hit by a drunk driver when Stacy was six. That was when Lonnie and his wife had come into Stacy’s life as her caretakers. Lonnie had been there ever since. Lucky had been harder to keep up with, and finally she’d stopped trying.

  Stacy always thought that if Lucky could have made a bet on his demise, he might have dreamed up just such a way to go—in bed, in action.

  Later, in the convertible, she sat quietly, leaning against the seat, letting the frantic pace of the evening dissipate in the soft summer air.

  “You know, Magadan, we’re going to have to make some sense out of all this, sooner or later.”

  “I won’t make any promises. I’ve been trying to do that for thirty years and haven’t succeeded yet. Couldn’t we just forget my family? Alice and Jane drive me crazy, and I’ve lived with them most of my life.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a minute. But they’re nice. I like them.”

  Gavin knew he ought to bring up buying the garage, but he didn’t want to talk business. He didn’t want to talk about his family. He wanted to be with Stacy. But Stacy seemed wary. Somehow she’d lost her confident air. Even the dogs whined nervously in the backseat.

  “We still have to take steps to settle your bet,” Gavin finally said.

  “What steps?”

  “The certificate of completion of the vamping. Tonight I’d just like to enjoy being with a beautiful woman. Couldn’t we just be the vamp-er and vamp-ee for now?”

  “Beautiful woman?”

  Stacy’s voice was incredulous. Gavin suspected that she’d been called many things in her life, but beautiful wasn’t one of them. She gave a chortle as if she were waiting for the pitch that was sure to follow.

  Overhead a sleek, silver-dollar moon followed along as they rode. It was a night for lovers, or, if he were a horror fan, he might say for creatures on the prowl. She hadn’t responded to his quip about the vamping. Maybe he’d approach her from another direction. Gavin smiled and touched Stacy’s shoulder.

  “Do you feel it?”

  “What?”

  “The power of the night when the creatures of darkness come to life.” He caught her attention, and he watched a kind of liveliness sweep over her as she turned to face him. That was all he wanted.

  “Look, Stacy, look at the moon. I want you to know that I’m prepared to be vamped, or metamorphosed. It’s your choice.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Magadan. I’m not really into vamping. What do you expect me to do?”

  “As I recall there were severed vamping definitions in that dictionary. If you don’t want to seduce me, well—how do you feel about coming over here and biting my neck?”

  Four

  “This isn’t Translyvania, Magadan.”

  “I know. But according to your sign, it’s my last chance, And I intend to do whatever it takes to live forever.”

  “Vampires went out with Bela Lugosi and George Hamilton. Freddie, Jason, even Edward Scissorhands are today’s night creatures.”

  “Personally, I’m more into Bill Murray and Ghostbusters.”

  The dogs suddenly growled, their ears pricking in recognition as the convertible turned into the gravel road leading to Stacy’s house.

  “No offense, boys. I like monsters and vampires, too, when they’re in their place—which isn’t the back of my car.” Gavin turned off the engine and sat in the darkness for a few minutes, wishing that he could sort out his conflicting emotions.

  Stacy was the first woman who’d ever met his mother and his a
unt without wondering if they were suffering from drug or alcohol abuse, or some kind of harmless age dementia. Normally he tried to keep the two apart when others were around. Separation seemed to subdue them. Together, they fed off each other, and he never knew what they’d do. But Stacy had fallen into their half-finished sentences and half-thought-out schemes as if she’d lived with them always. They’d claimed her, and he’d been the one left out.

  Finally, in fear of losing her to them completely, he’d spirited Stacy away. He was still shaking his head over his mothers invitation to Stacy to stay the night, which had been issued after the conversation about Lucky. Sounding very worldly, Alice had explained that she understood about the changes in life-styles and implied that she would accept any relationship Gavin and Stacy cared to enjoy. In fact, Aunt Jane had taken him aside and cautioned him about being prepared. He wasn’t certain that Stacy understood what was happening, and he wondered what she would have done if he’d gone along with his aunt.

  “You’re the first woman my mother has invited to spend the night.”

  “Your mother and your aunt are darlings, Gavin.”

  “I don’t think you quite understand. I think what they were saying was that they approved of us sharing my bed.”

  Stacy jerked her head away from Gavin’s shoulder where it had somehow ended up on the drive home, and sat up straight. “Sorry, I guess I missed that.”

  “I’m sorry I will, too,” Gavin confessed, trying to push the thought of her sharing his bed from his mind.

  Now that the evening was over, Stacy was beginning to have grave doubts about everything that had happened. She felt as if she’d been caught up in an emotional whirlwind that had suddenly stopped. She felt drained, and very weak. If she stood, she might not be able to walk. For almost eight hours she’d tried not to think about what was happening. She thought she just might have vamped a man. Though she wasn’t exactly sure, and she knew she would rather die than ask. The only thing she was sure of was that she’d won her two-dollar bet.

  Except winning had taken on a different meaning. There in the darkness it hit her—not the normal excitement of winning—but the knowledge that everything had changed. The change, and the man responsible for it, were things she didn’t know how to deal with.