"How was school, Mae?" Gaby sounded strangled.
"Same as always. Do you have any animals at that house?"
"Mae, it isn't polite to—"
"Yes," Jacques said.
Mae sighed hugely inside a sleeveless, red and white cotton dress. "Everybody does," she said with a dramatic flap of spindly arms. "Everybody but me."
"You like animals?" He saw the possibility of a crack in the child's apparent dislike of him. There was nothing like empathy to win over a female.
"I love animals." The scowl was redirected at Gaby. "Mom won't let me have any."
"Mae, this isn't the time or place to discuss—"
"When I was a boy I had all kinds of animals. What's your favorite?"
Mae clasped her hands and considered. "I love dogs."
"You're allergic to them," Gaby said in a voice that should have warned Mae to tread carefully.
"I love cats, too."
"You're allergic to cats. That's why we don't have dogs or cats. That and the fact that I don't think people should have animals if they aren't around to look after them."
"Cats can be left alone," Jacques told her, smiling benignly.
"It doesn't matter. Mae's—"
"Allergic to them," Jacques finished for her. "So you've said." He made sure his eyes said what he couldn't say aloud, that she should have told him she had a child. His next thought was about the father of that child. It came as an unpleasant surprise to discover he could dislike someone he'd never met.
"Many people are allergic to dander," Gaby said. "Mae, Jacques makes candy."
"He does?" Interest flickered in the girl's eyes. "I never knew men made candy. My grandma lives in Portland—the one in Oregon—and she makes fudge and salt-water taffy and sends it sometimes. When we visited one time she let me help. The kitchen got real hot. I like helping in kitchens. Could I come to your house and help?"
"Mr. Ledan doesn't exactly—"
"Sure you can come. I'll be sure we get to make some really unusual stuff." One of the positives about children was that they were generally uncomplicated—they could be bought.
"Mr. Ledan doesn't actually make the candy himself," Gaby said. Her face no longer betrayed anything of what she was thinking. "He owns big factories that mass-produce the stuff."
"Stuff?" Jacques pretended affront. "Factories? Ledan's candies are made in kitchens, madam. And they are referred to as confectionery, not stuff. I'll arrange a special demonstration for you, Mae—in the kitchen at my house. Would you like that?"
"Boy, yes. Wait till I tell the other kids."
"You'll get to visit my dog, too." He saw Gaby prepare to protest and held up both hands. "Spike's not really long-haired and I'll make sure—"
"No dog is short-haired enough," Gaby said and added, grudgingly, "but thank you, anyway."
"I told Mary-Alice Healy I'm getting a pig."
"You're not supposed to talk to Mary-Alice Healy. The last time you did the pair of you got into trouble for pulling hair and— What did you say?"
"I told her I'm getting a pig," Mae told her mother in a very small voice.
Jacques hid a grin.
"Mae! Why did you tell a fib like that?"
The girl displayed Gaby's talent for brilliant blushes. "I said it 'cause she's always braggin'. She's got a dog and a cat and her dad says she can have a pony when she's ten. So I said I'm gonna get a pig for my seven and a half birthday."
"When's that?" Jacques asked innocently.
"In a week."
"Well, young lady," Gaby said. "We don't celebrate half-year birthdays around here. And you're just going to have to admit that you fibbed."
Mae shook her head violently and pressed her lips together.
"This is all I needed," Gaby muttered, and Jacques observed her speculatively. "We'll talk about the consequences of lying later, Mae."
"Daddy would buy me a pig."
"Mae," Gaby said warningly.
"Who do you look like most?" Jacques asked Mae. "Your mom or your dad?"
Mae glowered at Gaby. "My dad. He's a lot of fun, too." She gave Jacques her full attention. "If you and Mom are friends, why haven't I seen you before?"
"We only met a little while ago." Sometimes honesty was the best route.
"So why are you here today?"
"I came to invite your mother to dinner. I'm waiting for her to tell me she'll come."
"Oh." Mae pursed her lips. "When Daddy comes he eats here with Mommy and me."
"Ah-hah." Evidently he'd made an even bigger error than he'd thought in assessing the situation.
"My dad's tall. Much taller than you."
"Really?" He looked at Gaby over Mae's head. Gaby rolled her eyes. "I guess your daddy's much younger and better looking, too."
Mae nodded. "Much. Char says he's the best looking man she ever saw. Char works for Mom. Mom thinks so, too, don't you, Mom?"
Gaby made a noise that sounded vaguely like an agreement.
"And Daddy's an artist. You aren't, are you?"
"No."
"Daddy's very clever. He's made all kinds of money and he likes giving me things… and Mom."
The kid was challenging him. "I bet he loves you a great deal and that's why he likes giving you things." Everything but himself. Jacques felt in his pocket for his keys. "Does your daddy get up here to see you often?"
"All the time." She puffed up her cheeks and expelled the air upward at wisps of hair. "He'll be coming to stay with us again soon, won't he, Mommy?"
Jacques caught the faint shake of Gaby's head— and the worried shadow in her eyes, but she said, "I expect so. We mustn't keep Jacques any longer."
He pulled out the keys and managed a smile. "I'll call you tomorrow about that dinner date." Gaby wasn't the type to lie easily, and she'd said she was single. So the daughter was a complication, but all bets were still on.
"We've got all kinds of stuff to do, don't we, Mom?" Mae leaned on the table. "Mom doesn't go out on dates. That's what you're talking about, isn't it? Taking Mom out on a date?"
"I guess it is," he said, watching the child's edgy wiggling back and forth. "Would that be okay?" It was natural that she felt threatened—particularly if Gaby hadn't seen many men since she was divorced. He assumed she was divorced.
Mae ignored him. She knelt on a chair and rested her chin on a fist.
Jacques touched Gaby's shoulder, stroked to her elbow and back. "Don't bother to come with me. I can see myself out." She looked, not at him but at Mae. "Call you tomorrow," he told her.
"Yes," Gaby agreed distractedly. "Thank you." In the hall Jacques deliberately pulled the kitchen door shut behind him.
Before the latch clicked he heard Mae say, "He's not bad, Mom, but Daddy's nicer."
Gaby responded, "You don't know Jacques yet."
He took his hand from the doorknob and sauntered from the house. Once in the Jeep, with his arms spread along the back of the seat, he slid down to rest his head back and squint at the sparkling, late- afternoon sky.
You don't know Jacques yet.
In a quiet way, the lady had defended him. "Oh, yeah," he whispered to the warm air. "Oh, yeah!" The day hadn't turned out exactly as expected, but progress had definitely been made.
7
"We've got to stay calm and clearheaded," Sophie announced. "And we've got to be smarter and more organized than he is."
Gaby accepted the mug of coffee Sis offered and listened to murmurs of assent from Caleb. "Change the place, he would," he muttered. "Wouldn't be the same. O'course, it'd be good for business. All those tourists would be bound to buy a heap o' gas, and—" he caught Sophie's narrowed gaze "—and, well, wouldn't be worth it, no how."
"How come he's suddenly visible all over the place, that's what I'd like to know," Sophie said. "According to the talk that's going around he's been visiting that monstrosity of a house since he was a boy. Don't believe it, myself. If he had been, we'd all know him by now."
"I b
elieve it," Gaby said and quickly tipped her mug.
"How would you know?" This time it was Char who spoke from a chair pulled up to the end of the booth where Gaby sat with Sophie Byler, Caleb and Shirley. Sis hovered nearby.
"I've spoken to someone who knows all about him," Gaby said evasively. "Don't ask me to tell you who because I can't break a confidence." It wasn't exactly a lie.
"Barney says he thinks we should go along with Ledan's plans," Shirley commented. "He says this town's going to die, anyways, the way things are going, so why not grab a chance to make some money."
Sophie leaned over the table. "And what do you say about that, Shirley?"
"Well, I could use more money as much as anyone, but I was born and bred in Goldstrike and I don't want it turned into no—what did you call it, Gaby?"
"Plastic playground." Jacques's eyes were the kind of dark blue that burned. When he'd looked at her on Monday, just before he'd kissed—started kissing her—they'd turned almost black. And when he smiled they warmed, but in a way that made her want him to heat her from skin to bone and everywhere in between. She pressed her stomach, but it wasn't her stomach that ached. "He—"
"Gaby?"
She started. "Yes?"
Sophie's pale blue eyes speared her. "What's the matter with you? This is important and you're daydreaming."
"Sorry," Gaby said sheepishly, not missing Char's raised brows. "I was thinking about things, that's all." On Tuesday and again on Wednesday, Jacques had stood at the window above the workroom until Gaby obligingly saw him—and immediately turned away. Yesterday she'd returned his wave. This meeting had been called for eight in the morning, and Gaby had yet to go to the workroom. Would he be at the window again? A small stab of apprehension turned her stomach.
"We're going to circulate petitions."
"How could you be so dumb," Gaby muttered. He was playing some game, and if she chose to play, too, she'd undoubtedly end up the loser.
"Dumb?" Sophie folded her fingers around Gaby's forearm.
Gaby jumped again. "No, no, I was talking to myself. I've got a lot on my mind, what with the movie work to do and now this nuisance with Jacques."
"So, he's Jacques now," Char remarked, nonchalantly consulting her date book. "I'm glad you're on good terms with him. That could be very useful."
"I'm not on any kind of terms with him." Now that was a lie. "And if I were I wouldn't use that type of situation against him."
"There cannot be a theme park in this town," Sophie said with finality "It would ruin—"
"Hush," Sis said, surprising everyone at the table. She clamped her lips together and jerked her head toward the door.
Gaby craned around and saw Bart Stanly coming in with a sleekly elegant blond woman. They made a move toward The Table.
"S'taken!" Sis hollered, loudly enough to make everyone in the place jump. .
Bart, healthily handsome and solid in an olive- green suit and tan shirt, glanced around with apparently guileless confusion. "I don't see anyone waiting." He plopped one of the tipped chairs down and stood back for his companion to sit. "You're going to love this place, Camilla. It's so hokey it's unreal."
Gaby cringed and saw her companions wince in unison.
"Chairs is tipped," Sis announced. "Chairs is tipped for my kin on account of they're comin' for breakfast. They wouldn't be none too pleased if I was to let you used their tipped chairs and their table, so I reckon as you'd better take a booth… less'n you'd as well go somewheres else."
"Did you hear that?" Caleb whispered loudly. "I never heard that female say more'n two words at a stretch before. Now she's spoutin' as bad as my old lady."
"If n you'd like a change from this here hokey place, you'd probably do real fine over at Barney's place." Sis's voice sounded rusty, like the coughing motor of a hand-cranked vintage car. "Down the road a spell. Hacienda Heaven it's called these days. Used to be a plain old tavern afore Barney visited that Teejuana. That's a foreign place. Mexico. Don't hold with travelin' meself. Gives a body ideas that don't do a bit o' good."
Gaby put a hand over her mouth to smother a giggle.
"Whoa," Char said in a low voice. "She's really on a roll. May never stop."
"Barney makes what he calls burners. On account of they're hot, I guess. Nasty things in tough fried stuff he twists up in half. Anything he's got That's what he puts in 'em. That and a heap of that hot sauce."
Seconds of silence followed, and Gaby didn't trust herself to look at Sis, or her victims.
"Thank you for the recommendation," Bart finally said. "But we'll use a booth. Some of your lovely hot coffee would be a wonderful start. And I'd like a stack of those spectacular blueberry pancakes you make. With the boysenberry syrup. How about you, Camilla?"
"Would you listen to him sucking up to Sis?" Caleb hissed.
"Won't do him any good," Shirley said matter-of- factly.
The door opened again and Caleb's skinny wife, Esther, rushed in. As usual, her florid face glowed. "Darn, but I thought I'd never get over here. Got stuck on the phone, but at least it was about the petition. We aren't going to have to twist arms to get support on this one. I doubt there's a body in this town who wants anything to do with no theme park." If Esther noticed the frantic gesturing from those seated, she showed no sign.
"I don't reckon there's too many thrilled about the durn youth center, neither," she continued. "We'd better get those petitions printed up and fast. I hear Ledan's already got himself a whole office suite being finished for him above Gaby's place. Cal said as how there's not no expense being spared. And some lackey of Ledan's was tellin' him about an expert who'd be arrivin' in a few days. An expert in theme parks, if you can imagine such a fool thing. We'd better organize getting the signatures right now."
Gaby pretended great interest in her coffee.
Caleb began whistling an off-key rendition of "At the End of the Rainbow" and Gaby kicked him under the table.
"Whatcha do that for?"
"Shut up, Caleb," Char glared at him. "And you, Esther, keep your voice down."
Gaby felt Bart approach but didn't look up.
"Good morning, all," he said too pleasantly. "How are we today?"
"I'm fine," Shirley said. "Can't speak for you or anyone else."
"I'm fine, too, Bart," Gaby said with a smile.
"Good, good." He waved a hand expansively in his companion's direction. "This is Camilla Roberts—an old friend of mine, but mostly of Jacques's. She happened to be passing through the area and decided to drop in for a visit."
Char leaned close to Gaby. "Passing through?" she mumbled. "Nobody passes through Goldstrike."
Bart bowed his head toward Char. "I beg your pardon?"
"I said lucky day for Goldstrike." She smiled up at him.
Camilla Roberts rose from her seat and came to Bart's side. Promptly he put an arm around her shoulders. "Camilla and Jacques have known each other for years," he said as if he were talking to Jacques Ledan's personal cheering squad.
"That's right," Camilla said in a husky voice guaranteed to melt any man's socks—and strategic points north of his feet. She flipped back the silky curve of her long, honey-colored hair. "I can hardly wait to see him again. Don't you think this idea of his for your little town is just wonderful?"
No one responded.
Gaby's eyes flicked to Bart's face, and she saw his mouth tighten. Mr. Stanly was no fool and he'd overheard the conversation about petitions to oust Jacques and his wonderful ideas.
"I'm a beauty consultant," Camilla continued, widening large and admittedly beautiful brown eyes. She gave Bart a playful poke with a long, pale pink fingernail. "And Bart forgot to let me know the spa is already past the blueprint stage."
"Spa?" Sophie and Gaby spoke in unison. "What spa?"
Camilla smoothed skin-tight black suede pants over her hips and pulled up the collar on her black silk blouse. "Don't pretend I'm not the last to learn that Jacques's spa plans are going ahead.
I know he intended to offer me the managerial position, because—" she leaned down, showing a considerable amount of cleavage at the neck of the blouse "—because I'm the best and Jacques only hires the best. He's a very discerning man, which is what I like best about him."
Best? Gaby breathed hard through her nose. And just what else did Camilla Roberts like about Jacques?
"A spa." Sophie looked meaningfully around. "Mr. Ledan is planning a spa, folks. What do we think of that?"
"Overwhelming, isn't it," Camilla purred. "Jacques is almost a visionary sometimes. Of course, the candy business is so successful it runs itself, so he needs other outlets for his talents."
The woman's eyes glowed at the very mention of Jacques Ledan's name. Gaby balled her fists in her lap. Twice he'd come on to her as if she were the only woman in the world. Evidently he'd been bored and filling up a little empty time until Camilla "passed through." Hell, but she hated herself for responding to him.
"Why don't I go on over to the print shop for you, Sophie?" Gaby ignored Char's restraining hand and stood up. She nodded at Camilla. "I hope you enjoy your stay. How long did you say you intended to be here, by the way?"
Camilla shrugged and her pouting lips pushed even farther forward. "That depends entirely on Jacques. Whatever he wants, he gets. But I expect most of you already know that." She giggled. "I may be around for a long time and I won't mind a bit."
Gaby picked up her Mary Poppins-style, black felt—complete with cherries bobbing from the brim—and jammed it over her French-braided chignon. Parting her lips in a parody of a smile, she directed herself to Sophie. "I'm going to put every ounce of energy I've got into this," she said, squaring her shoulders. "If I have my way, there'll be no theme park, no hotel, no multiplex cinema, no wretched mining displays with leprechauns, for crying out loud. And no spa! Starting this morning I'll be campaigning to boot out Jacques Ledan and his crazy schemes."
"Hey!" Bart reached for her arm. "You're a smart woman You know this is going to be good for everyone. Wait till you start turning out those baseball—"
Mad About The Man Page 7