Amanda reached out on impulse and took his hand. It seemed to her that Jordan had had more than his share of tragedy in his life, and she suddenly wanted to share her mother and stepfather with him. “I’m sorry.”
He changed the subject so abruptly his remark was almost a rebuff. “What do you think Karen would like?”
Amanda was annoyed and a little hurt. “How would I know? I’ve never even met the woman.”
The waitress returned with their breakfast, setting bacon and eggs in front of Jordan and giving Amanda wheat toast and a fruit compote. When they were alone again, Jordan replied, “Karen’s thirty-five, a little on the chubby side—and totally devoted to Paul and the girls.”
Amanda tried to picture the woman and failed. “Do she and Paul have children of their own?”
Jordan was mashing his eggs into his hash browns. “No.”
She speared a melon ball and chewed it distractedly. “That’s sad,” she said after swallowing.
“These things happen,” Jordan replied.
Amanda looked straight into his eyes. “I guess Karen would be pretty upset if she ever had to give Jessica and Lisa back to you,” she ventured to say.
He returned her bold, assessing stare. “I wouldn’t do that to her or to the girls,” he said, and there was no hint of mischief about him this time. He was completely serious.
Things were a little strained between them throughout the rest of the meal, but as soon as they reached the toy store at the mall, they were both caught up in the spirit of the season. They bought games for the girls, and dolls, and little china tea sets.
Amanda couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun, and her eyes were sparkling as they stuffed everything into the back of the Porsche.
From the toy store they headed to a big-name department store where, after great deliberation, they chose expensive perfume and bath powder for Karen and a sweater for her husband.
They had lunch in a fast-food hamburger place jammed to the rafters with excited kids, and by the time they returned to Amanda’s apartment, she was exhausted.
“Coming in?” she asked at the door because, in spite of everything he’d said about waiting, she’d been entertaining a discreet fantasy all morning.
Jordan shook his head. “Not today,” he said. “I’ve got to drive up to Port Townsend and look in on the kids.”
Amanda was hurt that he didn’t want to take her along, but she hid it well. After all, she didn’t have the right to any injured feelings. “Say hello for me,” she said softly.
He kissed her, lightly at first, then with an authority that brought the fantasy to the forefront of her mind. Amanda surreptitiously gripped the doorknob to keep from sliding to the floor.
“I’ll be out of town most of next week,” he said when the kiss was over. “Is it okay if I call?”
Is it okay? She would be shattered if he didn’t. “Sure,” she answered in a tone that said it wouldn’t matter one way or the other because she’d be busy with her glamorous, sophisticated life.
Jordan waited until she’d unlocked the door and stepped safely inside, then she heard him walking away.
She tossed aside her purse, kicked off her shoes and hung up her coat. The coming week yawned before her like an abyss.
Ignoring the boxes still sitting on her couch, she bent distractedly to pet a meowing Gershwin, then stumbled into her bedroom, stripped off her clothes and crawled back into the unmade bed. All those hours she hadn’t slept the night before were catching up with her.
Later she awoke to full darkness, the weight of Gershwin curled up on her stomach and the ringing of the phone.
Groping with one hand, she found the receiver, brought it to her ear and yawned, “Hello?”
“It’s Mom,” Marion announced. “How are you, dear?”
Amanda yawned again. “Tired. And hungry.”
“Perfect,” Marion responded with her customary good cheer and indefatigable energy. “Drag yourself over here, and I’ll serve you a home-cooked meal that will put hair on your chest.”
Amanda giggled, rubbing her eyes and stretching. The movement made Gershwin jump down from her stomach and land with a solid thump on the floor. “There’s one flaw in your proposal, Mom. Who needs hair on their chest?”
Marion laughed. “Just get in your car and drive over here. Or should I send Bob, so you don’t have to go wandering around in that dark parking lot behind your building?”
“There’s an attendant,” Amanda said, sitting up. “I’ll drive over as soon as I’ve had a quick shower to revive myself.”
Marion agreed, and the conversation came to an amicable end.
With her hair pulled back into a ponytail, Amanda was wearing jeans, a football jersey and sneakers when she arrived at her parents’ house in another part of the city. And she was making a determined effort not to think about Jordan and the fact that he hadn’t asked her to go to Port Townsend with him.
Her mother, a slender, attractive woman with shoulder-length hennaed hair and skillfully applied makeup, met her at the front door. Marion looked wonderful in her trim green jumpsuit, and her smile and hug were both warm.
“Bob’s in the living room, cussing that string of Christmas tree lights that always goes on the blink,” the older woman confided in a merry whisper.
Amanda laughed and wandered into the front room. There were cards everywhere—they lined the top of the piano, the mantel and were arranged into the shape of a Christmas tree on one wall. Amanda had been putting hers in a desk drawer that year.
“Hi, Bob,” she said, giving her stepfather a hug. He was a tall man, with thinning blond hair and kindly blue eyes, and he’d been very good to Marion. Amanda loved him for that reason, if for no other.
He was standing beside a fresh-smelling, undecorated pine tree, which was, as usual, set up in front of the bay window facing the street. The infamous string of lights was in his hands. “I don’t know why she won’t let me throw these darned things out and buy new ones,” he fussed in a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s not as if we couldn’t afford to.”
Amanda chuckled. “Mom’s sentimental about those lights,” she reminded him. “They’ve been on the tree since Eunice and I were babies.”
“Speaking of your sister,” Marion remarked from the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on her white apron, “we had a call from her today. She’s coming home for Christmas.”
Amanda was pleased. This was a hard time in Eunice’s life; she needed to get away from the wreckage of her marriage, if only for a week or two. “What about her job at the university?”
Marion shrugged. “I guess she’s taking time off. Bob and I are picking her up at the airport late next Friday night.”
Amanda left Bob to his Christmas tree light quandary and followed her mother into the bright, fragrant kitchen, where they had had so many talks before. “Seattle will be a shock to Eunice after Southern California,” she remarked.
Marion gave her a playful flick with a dish towel. “Forget the harmless chitchat,” she said with a grin. “What’s going on in your life these days? Who’s the new man, and what the devil was James doing, dropping by?”
Drawing up a battered metal stool, Amanda sat down at the breakfast counter Bob had built when he remodeled the kitchen, and started cutting up the salad vegetables her mother indicated. “James is getting divorced,” she said, avoiding Marion’s gaze. “Evidently he has some idea that we can get back together.”
“I presume you set him straight on that.”
“I did.” Amanda sighed. “But I’m not sure he’s getting the message. He sent me a sable jacket and a silk bikini today, along with an invitation to Hawaii and Copenhagen.”
The oven door slammed a touch too hard after Marion pulled a pan of fragrant lasagna from it. “You’d never guess he was such a scumbag, would you?”
Amanda grinned and tossed a handful of chopped celery into the salad bowl. “You’ve got to stop watching all th
ose cop shows, Mom. It’s affecting your vocabulary.”
“No way,” replied Marion, who had a minor crush on Don Johnson. “So, who’s the other guy?”
“Did I say there was another guy?”
“I think so,” Marion replied airily, “but you wouldn’t have had to. There’s a sparkle in your eyes and your cheeks are pink.”
“His name is Jordan Richards,” Amanda said. Personally she attributed any sparkle in her eyes or color in her cheeks to the nap she’d taken.
Marion stopped slicing the lasagna to look directly at her daughter. “And?”
“And he makes me crazy, that’s what.”
Marion beamed. “That’s a good sign.”
Amanda wondered if her mother would still be of the same opinion if she knew just how hard her daughter had fallen. And how bold she’d been. “I guess so.”
“What does he do for a living?” Bob asked from the kitchen doorway. Since it was a classic parental question, Amanda didn’t take offense.
“He’s a partner in an investment firm—Striner, Striner and Richards.”
Bob whistled and tucked his hands in his pockets. “That’s the big time, all right.”
“Amanda doesn’t care how much money he makes,” Marion said with mock haughtiness. “She just wants his body.”
At this, both Amanda and Bob laughed.
“Mom!” Amanda protested.
“It’s true,” Marion insisted. “I’d know that look anywhere. Now let’s all sit down and eat.”
They trooped into the dining room, where Marion had set a festive table using the special Christmas dishes that always came out of storage, along with the nativity set, on the first of December. Despite the good food and the conversation, Amanda’s mind was on Jordan.
“About those presents James sent you,” Marion began when she and Amanda were alone in the kitchen again, washing dishes while Bob fought it out with the Christmas tree lights. “You are sending them back, aren’t you?”
Amanda favored her mother with a rueful smile. “Of course I am. First thing tomorrow.”
“Some women would have their heads turned, you know, by such expensive things.”
“Expensive is right. All James wants in return for his presents is my soul. What a bargain.”
Marion finished washing the last pot, drained the sink and washed her hands. “I’m glad you’re wise enough to see that.”
Amanda shrugged. “I don’t know how smart I am,” she replied. “The only reason I’m so sure about everything where James is concerned is that I don’t love him anymore. I’m not sure what I’d do if I still cared.”
“I am,” Marion said confidently. “You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders. That’s why I think this new man must really be something.”
Amanda indulged in a smile as she shook out the dish towel and hung it on the rack to dry. “He is.” But her smile faded as she thought of those two little girls living far away from their father with an aunt and uncle, and of Becky, cut down before she’d even had a chance to live.
“What is it?” Marion wanted to know. She had already poured two cups full of coffee, and she carried them to the kitchen table while waiting for Amanda to answer.
Amanda sank dejectedly into one of the chairs and cupped her hands around a steaming mug. “He’s a widower, and I think—well, I think he might have some problems with commitment.”
“Don’t they all?” Marion asked, stirring artificial sweetener into her coffee.
“Bob didn’t,” Amanda pointed out, her voice solemn. “He loved you enough to marry you, even though he knew you had two teenage daughters and a pile of debts.”
Marion looked thoughtful. “How long have you known this man?”
“Not very long,” Amanda confessed. “About ten days, I guess.”
Marion chuckled and shook her head. “And you’re already bandying words like ‘commitment’ about?”
“No. I’m only thinking words like ‘commitment.’”
“I see. Well, this is serious. Why do you think he wouldn’t want to settle down?”
Amanda ran the tip of her index finger around the rim of her coffee mug. “He has two little girls, and they don’t live with him—his sister and brother-in-law are raising them. He sort of bristled when I asked him about it.”
Marion laid a hand on her daughter’s arm. “You’re a little gun-shy, dear, and that’s natural after what happened with James. Just give yourself some time.”
Time. Jordan was asking the same thing of her. Didn’t anyone act on impulse anymore?
Marion smiled at her daughter’s frustrated expression. “Just take life one day at a time, Amanda, and everything will work out.”
Amanda nodded, and after chatting briefly with her mother about Eunice’s upcoming visit, she put on her coat, kissed both her parents goodbye and went out to her nondescript car.
“You be careful to park where the attendant can see you,” Bob instructed her just before she pulled away from the curb.
The attendant was on duty, and Amanda parked where there was plenty of light.
It turned out, however, that it was the inside of her building that she should have looked out for, not the parking lot.
James was sitting on the stairs again, and this time she didn’t have Jordan along to act as a buffer.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Amanda said in a cold voice. “You can take back the fur and the bikini.”
James’s handsome, distinguished face fell. “You still haven’t forgiven me, have you?” he asked in a pained voice, spreading his hands wide for emphasis. “Baby, how many times do I have to tell you? Madge and I haven’t been in love for years.”
Amanda ached as she remembered Madge Brockman’s raging agony during the confrontation. “Maybe you haven’t been,” she muttered sadly.
James either didn’t hear the remark or chose to ignore it. “Just let me talk to you. Please.”
Having summoned up the courage she needed, Amanda passed him on the narrow stairway. “Nothing you can say will change my mind, James.” She reached her door and unlocked it as he made to follow her. “So just take your presents and give them to some other fool.”
Suddenly James caught her elbow in a hard grasp and wrenched her around to face him. “You’re in love with Richards, aren’t you? The boy wonder! You think he’s pretty hot stuff, I’ll bet! Well, let me tell you something—I could buy and sell him ten times over!”
Amanda pulled free of James, stormed over to the couch, picked up the boxes and shoved them at him. “Take these and get out!”
He stared at her as though she’d lost her mind.
“And while you’re at it, you can just take everything else you’ve ever given me, too!”
With that, she strode into the bedroom and yanked open her jewelry box, intending to return the gold bracelet and pearl earrings she’d forgotten about. She only became aware that James had followed her when he cried out.
Turning, Amanda saw him clasp his chest with one hand and topple to the floor.
5
James’s face was contorted with pain, and he was only partially conscious. “Help—me—” he groaned.
Amanda lunged for the phone on her bedside table, punched 911 and barked out her address when someone came on the line. She followed that with a brief description of the problem.
“Someone will be there in a few minutes,” the woman on the telephone assured her. “Is the patient conscious?”
James was clearly in agony, but he was awake. “Yes.”
“Then just cover him up and make him as comfortable as you can—and try to reassure him. The paramedics will take care of everything else when they get there.”
Amanda hung up and draped James with a quilt dragged from her bed. When it was in place, she knelt beside him and grasped his hand.
“It’s going to be okay, James,” she said, her eyes stinging with tears. “Everything is going to be okay.”
His free
hand was clenched against his chest. “Hurts—so much…crushing…”
“I know,” Amanda whispered, holding his knuckles to her lips. She could hear sirens in the distance. “Help will be here soon.”
A loud knock sounded at the door just a few minutes later.
“In here!” Amanda called, and soon two paramedics burst into the bedroom, bringing a stretcher and some other equipment. She scrambled out of the way and perched on the end of her bed, still unmade from her nap earlier, watching as James was examined, loaded onto the stretcher and given oxygen and an IV.
“Any history of heart disease?” one of the men asked Amanda as he and his partner lifted the stretcher.
“I—I don’t know,” Amanda whispered.
“We’ll be taking him to Harborview Hospital, if you’d like to come along,” the other volunteered.
Amanda only sat there, gripping the edge of the mattress and shaking her head, unable to tell them she wasn’t James’s wife.
When the telephone rang a full hour later, she was still sitting in the exact same place.
“H-hello?”
Jordan’s voice was warm and low. “Hello, Mandy. Is something wrong?”
Amanda dragged her forearm across her face, wiping away tears that had long since dried. James had a heart attack in my bedroom, she imagined herself answering.
She couldn’t explain the situation to Jordan over the phone, she decided, sinking her teeth into her lower lip.
“Mandy?” Jordan prompted when the silence had stretched on too long.
“I thought you were in Port Townsend,” she managed in a small voice that was hoarse from crying.
“I just got back,” he answered. “As a matter of fact, I’m spending the night in a hotel out by the airport, since my plane leaves so early tomorrow.”
Amanda swallowed hard and did her best to sound ordinary. There would be time enough to tell Jordan what had happened when he got back from his business trip. “Wh-where are you going?”
“Chicago. Mandy, what’s the matter?”
She closed her eyes. “We can talk about it when you get home.”
Daring Moves Page 6