She couldn’t remember ever having wanted a dog. It would have been impossible on the road anyway; the last thing she and her mother had needed was something else to take care of. And then she’d been stuck in that little apartment at seventeen, trying to raise Davy and Amy, and a dog was really the last thing she’d needed.
But there was something in the patient way this dog looked through the screen door at her, not trying to get in, just watching her. From the outside.
It rolled over on its back outside the screen door so all she could see was four stubby white feet pointed to the sky. “Okay,” Sophie said, and let him in. “But you’re covered with mud, so don’t get on the furniture or anything.” The dog sighed and lay down at her feet, and when Amy called her name and she went out to the front yard, it followed her.
Amy was standing behind the camera, talking to Phin, but she stopped when she saw Sophie coming. “We’ve got a problem,” she said as Sophie got close, and then she saw the dog. “Cool. A dog.” She looked at it more closely. “I think.”
The screen door slammed as Wes came out. “You now have a new bathroom showerhead,” he said to Amy as he came down the steps. “But the shower drain still needs work. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
“Oh, well—” Sophie began, but Amy said, “Fantastic.”
“Your guests need work, too,” Phin said, and Sophie turned to look at the porch, where the Lutzes were having one of those intense, whispered conversations that married people have before they kill each other.
“Yeah, that’s the problem I called you out here for,” Amy said to Sophie. “We may have pushed this too far.”
“I’m blaming this on you,” Phin said. “Before you got here, they only did this when they’d had too much to drink.”
“Good,” Sophie said. “Now they’re out in the open. We’re clearing the hypocrisy out of Temptation.”
“A little hypocrisy never hurt anyone,” Phin said.
“So were you born a politician?” Sophie started off for the porch. “Or did you have to work to achieve this level of immorality?”
“Oh, I was born to it,” Phin said, sounding a little grim.
Sophie went up the porch steps to the Lutzes, with the dog at her heels. “We were so grateful that you were helping us with the filming that we forgot to feed you. Can I make you a sandwich?”
“Oh.” Georgia straightened a little. “Oh, no, we have to be going anyway. But how nice of you to offer.”
“Well, we’re supposed to cater to the talent.” Sophie smiled at her, and Georgia flushed with pleasure and smiled back.
“That’s a good one.” Frank looked at his wife with contempt.
“Amy says you both looked great on camera,” Sophie lied. “Maybe you can come back out tomorrow.”
“You bet.” Frank perked up, and even Georgia began to look less fried around the edges.
“We’ll do anything we can to help.” Georgia looked at Sophie with unqualified approval. “And maybe you can use Rob, too.”
Sophie looked into the yard to the minivan, where Clea was laughing up at a dazzled Rob. “I’m sure we’ll be using him,” she said flatly.
“That was kind of you,” Phin said, when the Lutzes had gone and Sophie was sitting on the porch steps with the dog at her side surveying the yard as if it belonged there, its mascaraed eyes half-lidded in complacency.
“I’m a kind person,” Sophie said, her chin in the air.
“You know, all evidence to the contrary, I think you are.” He leaned over to pat the dog, his face was close to hers, and Sophie’s pulse kicked up. “What I can’t figure out is why you’re so damn nervous.”
“I’ve been under a lot of stress.” Sophie scooted up a step, and the dog climbed to stay with her. “And I come from a very tense family.” She thought about her father and Davy and Amy, all of them absolutely nerveless, and honesty made her add, “Well, some of the Dempsey women have been high-strung.”
“A weekend in the country should take care of that,” Phin said, still watching her as he scratched the dog behind the ear. “There’s nothing stressful in Temptation.”
Just you, Sophie thought, and he grinned at her as if he’d read her mind.
“Nice seeing you, Sophie Dempsey,” he said, and straightened to go out to the car where Wes was waiting for him.
“Same to you,” Sophie said, as her pulse slowed again. “And if I don’t see you again, thanks for all your help.”
“Oh, you’ll see me again,” Phin said without turning around.
“Terrific.” Sophie watched him go, appreciating the fact that he was leaving while admiring how good he looked from behind.
Amy came to enjoy the view with her. “Helluva day, huh?”
“Explain to me again,” Sophie said, “what happened to ‘just the three of us’?”
Amy shrugged. “You’re the one who invited the dog.”
Sophie looked down at the dog who looked back up with its Cleopatra eyes, adoring her.
“The dog stays for a while,” Sophie said. “The mayor goes.”
When Sophie took her shower that night, blessing Wes the entire time for their new flexible showerhead, the dog put its feet on the edge of the tub and whined. It was covered with dried mud and looked so pathetic that Sophie said, “Oh, okay,” and hauled him in with her, hosing him down while he squirmed in ecstasy under the water, and then sudsing him up with eucalyptus-and-lavender shampoo. Half an hour later, they both sat blow-dried in the kitchen, enjoying the semicool night air that came in through the screen door, the dog keeping one eye on the Dove Bar Sophie was eating. Sophie licked the ice cream and worried again about the accident, the movie, and the mayor.
She was still obsessing when Amy came down the stairs in her baby-doll pajamas, looking a lot like she had when she was ten. She sat in the chair across from Sophie and drew her knees up to her chin.
“We need a love scene,” Amy said. “Clea wants one.”
“A love scene.” She should have figured on that, it was so like Clea. Sophie gave the wallpaper a dirty look in place of Clea. “I can’t write a love scene. Especially not with those damn things staring at me.”
“You cannot blame writer’s block on giant mutant cherries,” Amy began. Then she stopped, and said, “Oh. Cherries.”
“What?” Sophie said, and Amy said, “You know. Cherries. And Chet.”
“Chad,” Sophie said, but she sat back, a little jolted. “I’m sure that’s not it.” She should ask Brandon. He knew everything about her subconscious. She frowned at the wall phone. She should have called Brandon before now, but she kept forgetting him.
Amy shifted uneasily. “Clea’s decided that Rob is the love interest. She says it’s better for what she has in mind.”
“I bet it is.” Sophie thought about it and nodded. “So she comes back to meet her old boyfriend and falls for his son. Lot of conflict there.” She thought it through. “Oh, hell, a lot of conflict there. Frank’s going to have a fit.”
“If we do this right, he’ll never know,” Amy said. “Just write a nice seduction scene, and we can finish this up.”
Sophie sat up and tapped her PowerBook out of sleep mode. “Who seduces who?”
“Are you kidding? Clea’s an old-fashioned girl. He seduces her.”
“So we’re not doing a documentary.” Sophie began to type in the scene log line, and Amy jerked away and stood up. “Hello?” Sophie said. “What?”
“Nothing,” Amy said.
Sophie pointed at the chair. “Sit.”
Amy sat, her feet on the floor this time.
“I’ve been very patient,” Sophie told her, “but there’s something you’re not telling me which is dumb because you know I’ll stand behind you no matter what you want. What are you doing?”
“I’m making a documentary,” Amy said.
Sophie sat back. “You’re making a documentary about Clea coming home to Temptation?”
“No, I’m making a movie
of that. I’m making a documentary about making the movie.” Amy leaned forward. “This is so cool, Soph. I didn’t want to tell you because I wanted you to be natural in the footage—”
Footage? “Wait a minute.”
“—but you wouldn’t believe how great this is already. That virginity stuff we talked about last night came out great—well, a little dark, but very moody with Clea all lit by those candles, and I can use the stuff she said as a voice-over—”
“Amy!”
Amy stopped and Sophie reminded herself to be supportive. “You filmed me on the porch last night?”
“All of us,” Amy said. “I set up the camera in the bushes. It’s good stuff, Soph. And then today I interviewed Frank and got him to talk to the camera and he really comes across as the butthead he is.”
“Is that fair? Did he realize—”
“He knew he was on camera. He signed a release. And we’re going to have so much stuff to cut together, it’s going to be great.”
Sophie leaned forward. “Amy, you’re conning these people. They’re signing releases because they think they’ll look great, and you’re—”
“I’m not conning them,” Amy said, indignant. “And even if I am, I’m not taking anybody’s money. I’m just filming what they say. I’m not changing their words. I’m just getting what I want.”
“You have to think about other people,” Sophie said, and Amy said, “No, that was you and Mama, trying to save everybody. Davy and Daddy and I, we know you can’t save anybody so you might as well take care of yourself. And I’m not hurting anybody here. They all want to be in this movie.”
She was so much like their father—all redheaded innocence, suckering people in with the Dempsey smile—maintaining to the end that it wasn’t his fault if they trusted him, and that he never, ever lied.
But everybody he met lost something to him, just the same.
“Sophie, this is real filmmaking,” Amy said, leaning closer, radiating sincerity. “Doing the wedding videos has been great, but it’s been seven years, and I’ve learned everything I can from them. This is what I want to do now. This is my chance to get out. Maybe the only chance I’ll get.”
Amy’s heart was in her eyes, and Sophie took a deep breath and thought, I knew she’d get tired of those dumb weddings someday. The thought of Amy leaving was painful, life without her was almost unimaginable, but the thought of her staying when she wanted to go was worse.
“I want to cut the documentary and go to L.A. and use it to get work there,” Amy was saying. She looked as if she were holding her breath waiting for Sophie to say something.
Are you out of your mind? wouldn’t seem supportive. “L.A.’s a tough town.”
“I know.” Amy bobbed her head up and down, eager to agree. “But Davy’s out there. He can help me. It’s his turn anyway.” Her smile faded. “So what happens to you, now that I’m leaving?”
Sophie shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to think about what I want for a change.” After I get finished worrying about you.
“Don’t you have any dreams?” Amy said. “Isn’t there something—”
“No,” Sophie said. When she thought about it, it was sad. Thirty-two years old, and she had no idea what she wanted from life. She thought of Phin on the back porch. Maybe his question hadn’t been so smart-assed after all.
“Are you going to sell the business?” Amy said.
“Probably,” Sophie said.
“Can I have half?”
Sophie blinked at her. “Of course. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking you needed the money more,” Amy said. “I’m going to have a career. You’re sort of stuck.”
Ouch. “Take half the money,” Sophie said. “I can get myself unstuck.”
“Thank you,” Amy said. “I mean it. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Sophie said. “Now get some sleep.”
Amy stood up, hesitating as if there was something else, and then she bent and wrapped her arms around Sophie’s neck.
“I love you so much, Soph,” she whispered.
“I love you, too, Ame,” Sophie said, patting her arm as she tried to breathe. That’s the only reason I’m letting you go.
When Amy had gone upstairs, Sophie sat back and thought about her future. She wasn’t worried; smart, organized people who worked hard always found jobs. But she didn’t want a job, she wanted what Amy had, a career that fulfilled her.
It occurred to her that the reason she’d never figured out what she wanted to be was that she’d spent so much time concentrating on what she didn’t want to be: a Dempsey. She let herself think about doing what Davy did, conning slightly crooked rich people out of their shady gains, but it held no appeal. Well, that was good. But maybe if she opened her mind, she could channel the Dempsey genes into something productive and fun, like Amy had, getting people’s weak spots on film.
Maybe if she just opened herself to life, she could have fun. There must be something in her life that was recreational. She thought of the mayor, smiling lazily at her, detached and undemanding and her pulse kicked up. He’d be fun.
It was a dangerous thought, so she only entertained it for one rebellious minute before straightening herself out and heading up the stairs to bed, the dog on her heels.
The last thing she needed was the mayor.
On Friday, Phin’s hassles started early.
First his mother gave him grief at breakfast because he’d been out to the Whipple farm twice.
“Associating with those movie people can do you no good,” Liz had told him across the white linen expanse of her dining-room table. “Stephen has mentioned it to me several times already. Don’t give him any leverage, Phin.”
“What’s ‘associating’?” Dillie said around a mouthful of bran muffin.
“Hanging out with,” Phin told her.
“Do not talk with your mouth full,” Liz told her. “It’s rude and disgusting.” She transferred her attention back to Phin. “Don’t go out to that farm again.” She didn’t add, “It’s rude and disgusting,” but the implication was clear.
“I did not associate,” Phin said as he buttered Dillie another muffin. “I went out on Wednesday with Wes to see about the accident, and I went back yesterday because Wes roped me into looking at their electricity.” Liz started to say something, and he added, “And I would also like to point out that I’m over twenty-one, so you can stop hassling me about my peer group. Talk to Dillie about this Jamie Barclay. I have grave doubts about Jamie Barclay.” He grinned at Dillie and handed her the muffin.
“Jamie Barclay is an excellent person,” Dillie said, taking it. “I should associate with her.”
“Jamie’s stepfather is the new vice president at the Third National,” Liz said. “Her mother joined the Ladies’ Club and is very nice. Dillie is allowed to associate.” She smiled at Dillie and leaned forward to wipe the butter off her granddaughter’s chin. “You missed your mouth,” she told her, and Dillie grinned back. Then Liz turned back to Phin. “Now about these movie people—”
“I have to go to the bookstore now.” Phin pushed back from the table. He kissed Dillie on the top of the head and said, “Behave,” but Liz followed him out onto the broad front porch before he could escape.
“I didn’t want to discuss this in front of Dillie,” she said, “but I know you and women. It’s one thing for you to conduct most of your liaisons out of town, another thing to do it here with a woman we know nothing—”
“ ‘Liaisons’?” Phin turned around, incredulous. “I replaced a fucking fuse, for Christ’s sake.” Okay, he’d lusted after a hostile woman, too, but he hadn’t done anything about it.
“Don’t look so outraged,” Liz said. “I know you, and I worry about you. It’s past time you settled down. Dillie needs a mother, and I want to see you married to a decent woman this time. You’re almost forty, Phin.”
“I’m thirty-six,” Phin said. “And I have no intention o
f getting married again, and if I did, it wouldn’t be to Rachel Garvey, which I know is where you’re going with this. Which reminds me, stop talking about Rachel in front of Dillie. You’re upsetting her.”
“I never said anything to Dillie,” Liz said.
“Well, she has big ears, and she’s not stupid. Just forget the whole Rachel idea.” He shook his head at her. “What is it with you lately? You never used to be this nuts.”
“I think you should get married before the election,” Liz said. “Weddings are popular. And—”
“Have you been hitting the cooking sherry?”
Liz stopped, two spots of color high on her cheeks. “Phineas Tucker, that is no way to talk to your mother.”
“Well, this is no way to talk to your son.” Phin met her eyes, and she had the grace to flush. “Have you listened to yourself? You want me to marry a woman I don’t love so you can win the next election and get a grandson to win the one that’ll come up thirty years from now.”
Liz’s blush deepened. “If you’d find somebody acceptable on your own, I wouldn’t interfere. But I don’t see the problem. You like Rachel, she’s a lovely girl, she’s very intelligent, and she’s wonderful with Dillie.”
“Dillie doesn’t think so, and Rachel has no more interest in marrying me than I do her, so knock it off.”
“Rachel’s mother says she does.” Liz moved in for the kill. “She says Rachel is shy, but she cares about you.”
“Rachel is shy?” Phin laughed. “Rachel is a barracuda. And she does not want to marry me. If I know Rachel, what she wants is to get away from Virginia and Stephen.”
“Nonsense,” Liz said. “Rachel is very close to her parents.”
“That’s why she wants to get away.” Phin turned to go down the Hill. “I’m going to work now. Try to regain your sanity before I come home.”
Welcome to Temptation/Bet Me Page 7