by Curry, Edna
Oh, why not? Lacey thought. Splurge for once. Besides, the dress was gorgeous and the obvious approval in Mark’s eyes made her feel special as well.
“All right, I’ll take it. I know when I’m outnumbered,” she agreed with a laugh.
A wide smile flashed across Marion’s thin face, and she winked conspiratorially at Mark. Lacey saw it and with a jealous pang wondered again just how well those two knew each other.
“Keep it on,” Mark encouraged.
“No, really. I must stop at the cabin for accessories and shoes, anyway, and I would love a shower,” she said, going back to the dressing room to change back into her pantsuit.
“She had a trying afternoon with her mother,” she heard Marion tell Mark. “So she deserves a nice, quiet dinner out of town. The farther the better.”
“That bad, eh?” He grinned. “Okay, I know just the place. Loon Lake Resort.”
“Good choice,” Marion approved. “The food’s terrific, and they have a live band for dancing, too.”
“Um hm.”
He smiled at Lacey as she stepped back into the showroom, took her arm and the dress box and waved a cheery good-bye to Marion.
“Drop me at my cabin, then I’ll pick you back up in, say, an hour? Time enough for a bit of a break and a shower?” He asked as they walked out to her car.
“Sounds fine.” How thoughtful. She definitely needed thirty minutes of being horizontal. After that meeting this afternoon, she felt bushed.
An hour later, her spirits revived, she slipped into the lovely new dress and brushed her short brown curls. She added a touch of make-up and some tiny emerald stud earrings, then a dash of her favorite cologne.
She smiled as the doorbell rang. No absent-mindedness about this professor. Right on time, even a few minutes early.
Scamp was barking furiously, and she scolded him sharply.
She flung open the door in welcome, then stopped short. Scamp rubbed against her leg, staying close beside her with a low growl, as though to say he would obey only with reluctance.
“Jake! I...was expecting someone else,” she stammered hurriedly.
“Too bad. You look lovely, and I’d be pleased if it were me you dressed up so for.”
“Thank you,” she said, hoping he hadn’t planned to start calling. She was sure she had made it clear on several occasions that she wasn’t interested in dating this overweight bachelor. But he wasn’t the kind who took no for an answer easily. And now Uncle Henry was no longer here to help keep him in line. She was on her own in this lonely place.
“I always told Henry you were a lovely thing. A bit headstrong, perhaps, but I like a girl with spirit.”
“Did you want something?” she asked impatiently, hoping to cut off where this was heading.
“I thought we could just talk for a while. But I see you’re expecting someone, so maybe we could meet for lunch or something soon, purely for business purposes, of course, to discuss a price for Henry’s stock. I’d like to make an offer for it, take it off your hands. I’ve got a lot of stuff in my own shop, of course, but I’m sure Henry would want me to help you out.”
She stared at him, surprised that he would bother to come all the way out here to repeat what he’d said in town that same morning. Was that the real reason he was here?
“Why, thank you, Jake. I haven’t really had time to think about it yet, but that’s certainly a possibility. I’ll have to do an inventory first, of course.”
“Oh, sure. I could help you with that, we could do it together.”
Lacey couldn’t imagine herself working with him. The very thought made her cringe. “No, thanks, I’ll manage it.”
Just then Mark appeared through the trees from the path along the lake between their cabins. As he stepped out to join them, relief flooded Lacey, although Jake hadn’t said or done anything to deserve her distrust.
Jake frowned, looking suddenly nervous, and for a moment Lacey was sure there was pure hatred in his eyes as he glowered at Mark. Then it was gone and she told herself she had imagined it.
“Evening, Jake.” There was an edge to Mark’s voice and a glint in his eye, although he reached down to pat Scamp with a friendly gesture as Scamp danced and wagged his welcome. Mark came to stand beside Lacey as though to claim her. Lacey tried not to laugh as she realized both Scamp and Mark were sending Jake the same “get lost” look.
Jake mumbled a repeat of his offer to help Lacey with the shop as explanation to Mark for his presence.
Then he got in his blue Ford and left, his spinning wheels sending up a small shower of crushed rock behind him to tell them of his displeasure.
Mark grinned. “I don’t think he approves of our date,” he said. Then at her embarrassed look, he questioned, “Could it be he fancies you himself?”
“Jake thinks he’s God’s gift to women,” she said. “He never seems to take no for an answer. Just keeps trying another tack.”
“And now he wants to play the helpful protector?”
“I suppose you could call it that. He knows the antique business well. I don’t, so I need to rely on someone. Uncle Henry did quite a bit of business with him, so he seems a logical choice.” Why did she feel she had to explain her actions to him? It was none of his business, anyway.
“You never actually dated him?” There was an odd note of anger in his voice.
“No, of course not. But he’s been over to see Henry on several different occasions when I’ve been here. And I certainly could use his help with deciding what to do with the shop,” she added. And another thing, what right did Mark have to think he could tell her whom she should or should not see?
“Yes, of course,” he conceded, polite once more. “Do you mind if we take your car again? I seem to have forgotten to put gas in mine, and I’m sure the station is closed by now.”
“Oh, sure.”
She sat beside him as he drove, once more very aware of his muscular thigh so close, his strong profile just outside her field of vision, unless she turned to the left just a bit. His shaving fragrance reached her, sending a shiver of remembrance through her, banishing her earlier irritation with him. Would he hold her in his arms and kiss her again tonight? Surely he wouldn’t put on his cold and distant act on a real dinner date, would he?
“Oh, look, how lovely,” she exclaimed as they drove out of one grove of evergreens, and the road momentarily wound through a clearing. In the distance, the sun was setting behind the pines, spreading gorgeous layers of various shades of gold and red across the western sky. Its heat seemed to fill the car, and his smile was suddenly warm and friendly too.
He took his eyes off the road and gave her a warm look that sent tingles down her insides. She smiled in return, casting quickly about for a safe topic of conversation.
“Tell me about this history you’re writing,” she said, settling on the first thing that popped into her mind.
“I’m trying to concentrate on the lesser-known events of this state, rather than just listing the various battles, Indian treaties, and the official milestones. I’m afraid that, although I know they were necessary, I find those a bit dry and uninteresting. Probably goes back to my fifth grade teacher who had a fetish about memorizing dates. She had a huge gray bun of hair, I remember, and always wore shoes that went clump, clump. I disliked her intensely because of all that memorizing, and it’s a wonder I didn’t end up disliking history as well.”
Lacey laughed at his description. “She sounds like my third grade teacher. Only she liked making us memorize the mathematical tables. But you’re right. Most history books do tend to be full of facts and dates.”
“Not that those aren’t important, you know. But they’ve already been done, so there’s no reason to write another book on them. I want to find new details, new anecdotes, or at least ones not now in book form. A lot of the old newspapers have interesting stories which have been neglected and forgotten.”
“Unsung heroes?”
“And
heroines.” He tossed her a smile. “Remember what this state was like a hundred years ago. It had to have taken a lot of courage to leave civilization’s comforts and safety and come here to a wilderness.”
“I never thought much about it. But I remember hearing some of the descriptions of the logging days, and about their having to build camps and cabins for shelter from the cold before they could start their work. My grandfather was a farmer here, and he used to tell us about having to cut down trees and brush. He had to dynamite the stumps out to clear the fields before he could plow the land to plant his crops. I know his whole farm was virgin land, and it took him years to get it all under plow.”
Mark nodded. “Life was hard then. There was little time for anything but work if they were going to survive. They had to take care of each other. There wasn’t a hospital and a fire department every few miles like there is now. An accident or injury was much more serious then.”
She listened, fascinated by the underlying excitement in his voice, and his obvious interest in his subject. He talked on as he drove, telling her of his research work for his book, and giving her details of a side to Minnesota she hadn’t known existed.
Loon Lake Resort’s restaurant was a low brown building set among evergreens overlooking a lake. Mark took her arm as they walked up the curved sidewalks between beautifully manicured lawns and flowerbeds just beginning to show blooms of yellow daffodils among the fresh green spears. The long Minnesota twilight was fading, and the gas lights were already burning.
The hostess seated them at a small table beside a window. The hostess greeted Mark by name and with an especially warm smile, sending a wave of unreasoning jealousy through Lacey. The hostess handed them oversized menus and left.
Lacey turned to admire the lovely lake shore flowerbeds and birdhouses below their window to hide her flushed face. “What a lovely view this is. Do you come here often?” she asked. What a dumb question, when the hostess obviously knew him well. What was the matter with her anyway, feeling jealous over a man she met only days ago. Days? Yes, it was only days since she’d met him. So much had happened since then, it seemed like much longer.
“Occasionally,” he said, as though it were unimportant. “Yes, the view is exceptional. But tonight we missed the best part, the sunset over the lake. We’ll have to come a little earlier next time.”
The waitress took their order and told them to help themselves to the extensive salad bar. They did, then moved back to their table with full plates, sat and began eating.
“Tell me about your meeting this afternoon,” he said.
“It was awful.” She made a face.
“Henry left everything to someone else and you have to move out of the cabin?” he guessed.
“Worse,” she said, smiling wryly. “He left it all to me and now my mother’s mad at me, and I have to decide what to do with it all.”
He stopped to stare at her, a forkful of salad half-raised to his mouth.
She flushed again, looking down at her plate. Damn. Now she would have to explain that. Why had she told him anything at all?
“And?” he prompted gently, buttering a hot roll.
“It’s a long story.”
His mouth twisted. “We have all evening.”
“Well...” She drew a deep breath, and sipped her coffee. “You know that Henry was my mother’s brother. They haven’t gotten along for years, barely spoke to each other, in fact. It all goes back to their inheritance from my grandfather. He was from the old country, Germany. You see, there it was traditional for the oldest son to inherit the land, or title, or whatever. And the younger sons or daughters got next to nothing. They were supposed to marry well, or just get a good job.”
“Yes, I’m familiar with that tradition.”
“Well, my mother was raised here in America, and of course, people never talk about death or wills. So she had no idea; just couldn’t believe it when her father died and his will read like something from the old country. She was really upset to learn that he still thought like that.”
“Henry was the oldest son?”
“Yes. Kate was next and there was a younger brother, Kermit, who was killed in a motorcycle accident a couple years after Grampa died. Kate was especially fond of her baby brother, and she always blamed his disinheritance for his youthful wild behavior and reckless driving.”
“But surely Henry had no control over your grandfather’s will?”
“No, of course not. But her feelings were hurt just the same. It almost killed her to be left nothing even though there really wasn’t all that much money for Uncle Henry either. Grampa wasn’t rich.”
“So when she heard Henry’s will today, she felt it was another rejection, a replay of a painful past.”
“Yes. I think she always knew it wasn’t Henry’s fault, but couldn’t bring herself to admit it. They never really made up. She resented my going to live with him on weekends after my divorce, as though it were a rejection of her.”
“And was it?” he asked gently.
The waitress brought their seafood dinners and fresh coffee and left again. Lacey thoughtfully picked up a fat breaded shrimp and ate it. The pain, anger, and rejection of that awful time swept over her again, threatening her with its power to depress her once more.
Even Arthur’s late offer of a reconciliation hurt, as though somehow she still came off as second choice. She pushed the feelings away, staring out the window, considering Mark’s knowing question.
“Perhaps. By then she had remarried and I was alone and feeling very left out of everything. It was a bad time for me, and Uncle Henry was very loving and supportive. And Kate’s new stepson Jerry definitely didn’t like me. He called both Kate and me “gold-diggers”, and claimed Kate was only after Carl’s money.”
Mark grinned wryly. “Money, that, of course, he wants to inherit himself someday, and will now have to share, since Carl remarried?”
“Ye-es, I suppose so.”
“A clear case of the pot calling the kettle black,” Mark dismissed. “I wouldn’t let that bother you at all.”
“Easier said than done,” Lacey returned ruefully.
“Your feelings are too soft and tender,” he smiled, reaching across to lay his hand over hers. “I find it very appealing. You’re a very special girl, Lacey.”
“You’re quite nice yourself, professor,” she returned, trying to lighten the serious tone that their conversation had taken. It was a long time since she had felt this safe and secure with a man, and much as she wanted to, she was afraid to trust that.
Chapter 9
As Mark paid the bill for their dinner, a laughing couple appeared on the stairway to the party room on the lower floor. Music flowed invitingly up to them and he looked questioningly at Lacey.
“Want to dance a while? The evening is still young.”
“Why not?” She smiled, her heart doing a rapid pitter-patter at the thought of being in his arms again.
They joined the crowd downstairs, and luckily found an empty booth in one corner. A waitress appeared immediately to take their order for drinks. She, too, seemed to know Mark well, and Lacey bit back jealous questions as she again wondered whom he usually brought here. Or did he come stag, to pick up girls? No, that didn’t fit his image at all.
She blushed, realizing the girl was waiting for her order as she had been musing. “White wine, please.”
Mark rose and held out his arms to her as the band struck up a waltz. The next three hours passed in a fuzzy haze of warm sensations as she gave herself up to the pleasures of being held close in his arms and moving to the music. The horrors of the past week faded to the background.
Then between dances, a tall willowy blonde girl dragging an uncomfortable-looking man bounced over to their table to ask Mark to dance, declaring prettily that she was angry with him for ignoring her all evening.
“I didn’t see you in this crush of people, that’s all, Nell,” he answered unperturbed.
&nbs
p; “A likely story. I saw you immediately when we came in, but I just wanted to see how long you would ignore me,” Nell pouted. “Well? Now that I’m here, don’t I even get introduced?”
Mark grinned, as though enjoying her scolding. “Certainly. Lacey Summers, this is Professor Nell Ammons, who is usually a prim English teacher when she’s not mad at me. She also helps me edit and research some of my work. And Joe Matthews who teaches chemistry, also at the U.”
“How do you do?” Lacey managed to say. So this lovely blonde worked at the U with him, did she?
“You don’t mind if I steal him for one dance, do you Lacey?” she asked lightly. “I’ll leave Joe for you.”
And acted as if she owned Mark too, Lacey thought, managing a smile as Mark raised an eyebrow asking her tolerance as they walked off to the dance floor.
“What am I, the consolation prize?” Joe asked good-naturedly, making Lacey laugh. He ignored Nell’s frown and held out his arms to Lacey.
Joe danced well, but Lacey found herself wishing for the music to end so they could return to her table. Besides, she couldn’t keep her eyes from straying to the sight Mark’s black hair and Nell’s blonde hair so close together. Did he have to hold her so close? Did they have to look so comfortable together?
She shook herself, forcing her eyes back to Joe’s patient smile. “Do you come here often?” she asked.
“No, this is the first time for me, but I gather it’s a favorite haunt of the locals. Nell didn’t seem surprised to see Mark, and the staff seems to know her.”
“Mark, too,” Lacey murmured, quickly dropping her gaze as she noticed Mark had caught her watching them. Obviously Nell and Mark had come here together on other occasions. He’d said she was helping with his book. What else did they do together? She swallowed that sickening feeling she refused to admit was jealousy.
The slower waltz music ended, and everyone stopped dancing and clapped politely. Then the band struck up a fast beat and the teenagers in the crowd cheered and came out to begin laughing gyrations.