“Let’s forget about him, okay?” he said. “We’ve got many more pleasant things to discuss. I still don’t know what your favorite color is, or if you’ve ever been to New York, or if you like cats better than dogs, or—”
“Hello in here!” Linda’s voice accompanied a battery of knocks.
Eddi turned toward the door. Her younger sister marched into the room as if she owned the place. Her button-down was daringly gaping in the front. Her perfume was stronger than ever.
“I wondered what happened to you two,” Linda said as she traipsed into the room. “Mrs. DeBloom is calling for the cast, Eddi.” She tossed a sweetly stiff smile toward her sister before sidling up to Rick. “And you somehow got away from me, you naughty boy,” she teased. Linda stroked his jaw with her index finger and tucked her free hand beneath his arm.
A hint of irritation troubled Rick’s features before he relaxed and shrugged. “Eddi and I were just taking a tour of the mansion. Heaven forbid that I should escape you,” he said as if he were a doting elder brother.
“Well,” Eddi said, “if Mrs. DeBloom is calling for the cast, I guess I better go back downstairs.”
“That’s fine, Edwardia,” Linda said. “I’ll finish the tour with Rick.” With a saucy smile, she rested her head on Rick’s shoulder and then lifted it again.
Eddi’s shoulders stiffened, and she scrutinized Linda for any signs of bitterness. Linda knew as well as Jenny how much Eddi hated her full name—despite the fact that it was a derivative of her father’s. The only times Linda ever used the name against Eddi was when she was irritated.
“Well, okay then,” Eddi agreed and tried to keep her voice even, although she detected a hint of jealousy in the lift of her sister’s chin. Eddi glanced back at Rick.
With another good-natured shrug, he waved good-bye.
“I think there’s supposed to be a library up here,” Linda said and pulled Rick toward the doorway.
“Yes, there is.” Eddi walked into the hallway and pointed to the right. “I believe it’s at the end of the hall that way.” She glanced down the wide corridor lined with oriental runners. Along the walls hung more portraits similar to the one downstairs. Eddi made a mental note to one day peruse the paintings. But for now, she was forced to face the most disagreeable man on the planet.
Twelve
“If the cast will please move near the stage,” Mrs. DeBloom called, “we’ll begin our practice.”
Backstage, Dave glanced toward his aunt. She stood on the stage’s edge and motioned toward the cast. He had known she loved theater before, but the light in her eyes tonight went unmatched. Dave paused for a moment to bask in the warmth of her joy—a joy that Dave’s money helped incur. He pressed a switch on the wall, and the velvet curtains hummed open.
Mrs. DeBloom turned and gave Dave a thumbs-up coupled with an exaggerated wink.
“Finally,” Carissa Barclay said from behind. A chorus of discreet clapping erupted from the cast.
“Believe it or not, Carissa, somebody just got a wire crossed.” Dave gave the theater wire box’s screws a final turn. He dropped the screwdriver back into the tool caddie with a clink. The smell of unfinished lumber and scattered sawdust attested to the remodeler’s presence earlier that day.
Dave looked at Carissa. Her approving beam reminded him of the redhead’s goals. Dave groaned. Carissa usually interpreted every hint of a smile, every benign kindness, every utterance of her name as a sign that he might be interested in a relationship. Ever since she moved back home a year ago, the green-eyed lady had been friendly—really friendly. Carissa didn’t seem the least bit interested in whether or not Dave had a good heart or how committed he was to his Lord or his church. Dave figured that Carissa, like a dozen other London ladies, wouldn’t take a second look at him if he were a man of golden character who was also broke.
Ironically, Carissa was a long way from penniless herself. Dave equated her with the likes of a bloodthirsty hound who smelled more money and wanted it. Since she was Calvin’s sister, the situation was particularly sticky. Dave didn’t want to hurt her feelings or offend Calvin. But the truth was he’d never be interested in the jeans-clad, rodeo-loving woman. They might both enjoy horses, but that’s where their common interests stopped.
Abruptly, he turned and walked across the stage, toward his aunt. Carissa’s bootheels clicked on the wooden stage behind him. Dave debated if she’d be on his trail all night. So far, she’d complimented everything from his haircut to his new boots. He wondered if she had convinced herself his efforts were for her.
The second Dave moved onto the open stage, some buffoon released a wolf whistle a mile long. “Oh, look, it’s Darcy!” Calvin Barclay shouted. A chorus of chuckles followed the eruption.
“Calvin, you idiot,” Dave mumbled and scanned the crowd for his friend.
From the back of the small group, Calvin waved and Dave pointed at him as if his days were numbered.
“Well, if we can all get settled down . . .” Mrs. DeBloom directed her remarks toward Calvin. “This is no time for adults to start acting like adolescents,” she continued and sniffed.
Dave descended the stairs along the side of the stage and heard Carissa following. He moved toward the back of the group and studied Cal. His friend draped his arm around Jenny’s shoulders and gave her an affectionate squeeze. Dave was surprised Cal had taken his focus off Jenny long enough to even notice he was on stage. If anybody was acting like a love-stricken adolescent, it was Calvin Barclay. He’d talked of nothing but Jenny since he met her three weeks ago.
Dave could only hope that Jenny felt as strongly about Calvin as he did her. Otherwise, his friend was about to get his heart broken. Dave scrutinized Jenny and wondered if her sedate expression was a clear indicator of her heart. If so, she cared precious little for Cal. The bells of caution clamored within Dave. He and Calvin had formed a deep bond in the last few years. He’d hate to see Cal hurt.
Without examining his motives, he skimmed the crowd for another familiar face. This time, he didn’t spot Eddi Boswick. Dave figured she’d probably materialize any minute, ready to sling a script line at him like a warrior hurling her dagger. The woman certainly kept him on his toes. Dave had studied his lines until he committed every syllable to memory. He loved watching Eddi matching him word for word, as if they were in some sort of contest.
Maybe we are, he mused and couldn’t deny he was enjoying the sport.
For once in his life, he’d met a woman who didn’t give one flip about his money. After their dugout encounter, Dave realized that if Eddi ever became interested in him it would be because he pursued her. She certainly wouldn’t pursue him. The thought left him almost heady. The last time he’d really pursued a woman had been his freshman year of college—before he started his own business and met with such startling success.
Maybe Eddi’s the reason I got the haircut and pulled out the new jeans and shirt, he thought and looked down at his apparel. This morning when he got up, Dave didn’t question the urge for a cleaner image. Instead, he’d driven toward the barbershop and just asked for a haircut. The next thing he knew he was digging to the back of his closet for his new duds.
If I’m not careful, I’ll wind up falling in love with her, he thought. The admission caught him so off guard that he stopped. He stared straight ahead, past the entryway, into the old dining room.
As his aunt began her typical short lecture on Jane Austen, Dave decided to find a bottle of water. In his younger days, he would have searched out something stronger, but he had quit drinking alcohol the same year he quit smoking. If he weren’t careful, this growing distraction with Eddi Boswick would drive him to resuming both habits. Dave figured his aunt had a whole ice chest full of drinks somewhere near the kitchen. Suddenly he felt as if he’d been in the desert for a week. On top of that, he couldn’t remember why he’d been so opposed to marriage for so long.
Dave hurried forward and searched out the cooler. He discover
ed it beside a stack of boxes in the dining room. After grabbing a bottle of water, he downed half of it. That’s when he noticed Eddi’s mother enter the front door. Mr. Boswick, close behind, shut the door and the two stood in the vacated foyer as if debating what to do. Dave stepped forward, but stopped when Mrs. Boswick pointed toward the theater room. As the pudgy woman began to speak, Dave was stricken with how much her hair reminded him of an overused Brillo pad.
“Oh, they’re all in there, Edward,” she exclaimed, her voice shrill. “And look, there’s Jenny. Oh good! She’s standing with that wonderful veterinarian. I’m so glad she’s interested in him, aren’t you? I’ve been so distraught over that fiancé of hers.”
Fiancé? Dave thought and swallowed another gulp of water.
“I just don’t believe he can provide for her as well as this Calvin Barclay. Oh! If only all our girls were so lucky!” Mrs. Boswick continued.
Edward removed his golfing hat. “Yes, they could all have a house full of dogs and cats and potbellied pigs,” he drawled.
Dave sputtered over a sip of water.
“Oh stop it!” Mrs. Boswick slapped his arm. “You know what I mean. If Jenny gets such a good catch, she might never have to work again in her life. She’d be set financially.”
“I guess that would be a real bummer if she actually wanted to continue her career, now wouldn’t it?” Mr. Boswick placed his cap upon a row of hooks near the front door.
“Oh you! You know as well as I do that she doesn’t.”
“Really?” he retorted.
“I think this thing with Dr. Barclay is a smart move, if you ask me.” She rushed on. “But then, Jenny always has been sensible.”
“Unlike others we know, I assure you,” he mumbled.
“Now, if we can only find such rich men for our other daughters, dear, we’ll all be set!” Mrs. Boswick declared, never once acknowledging one word of her husband’s caustic remarks.
“Ah, yes, a veterinarian in a town of six thousand people,” Mr. Boswick groused. “He should be rolling in dough—exactly what we need for Jenny. Exactly.”
Dave gripped the neck of his water bottle. Beads of cool moisture seeped through his fingers. What Mr. and Mrs. Boswick couldn’t know was that Calvin Barclay was indeed rolling in dough—not nearly as much as Dave, by any means, but the vet would be considered a good catch by many fortune-hunting ladies.
A year ago when his father died, Calvin and his sister were left a small fortune. Calvin had been able to pay off all his debts and even enlarge his clinic. After giving a chunk to a deserving charity, he’d set the rest aside for a tidy nest egg. The woman who married Calvin really wouldn’t have to work.
Dave recalled Jenny’s composed expression. All at once, the memory took on a sinister cast. Perhaps the reason Jenny seemed so unmoved was because her interest was in Calvin’s earning potential and not the man. Dave had encountered enough goal-oriented women to suspect any female of ulterior motives—even Eddi Boswick’s sister.
As if the mere thought of her made her materialize, Eddi trotted down the stairs. “Oh, hi!” she said to her parents before exchanging a brief hug. “I’d begun to think you two weren’t coming.”
“No, we came.” Edward yawned, and Dave was stricken with how much his daughter favored him—right down to the keen gray eyes that missed nothing.
He looked back up the stairway and saw no signs of Rick Wallace. Dave thought he’d seen Rick and Eddi walk out of the parlor together shortly after Aunt Maddy called him to help on stage. Dave had been glad Eddi was spending time with Rick. The sooner she detected the knave’s character, the sooner she would warn her family.
When Eddi stepped away from her parents, she spotted Dave. He lifted his water bottle as if toasting her, and Eddi offered nothing but one of her barracuda glares.
Dave laughed out loud and strode past the Boswicks without acknowledging them.
“ . . . that rude man,” Mrs. Boswick’s words trailed him.
Dave grimaced. He hadn’t intended to be rude; he just had a few things on his mind. He spotted Cal and Jenny again and began to wonder how he could convince his friend to back off.
Maybe telling him she’s engaged will be enough, Dave hoped.
Thirteen
After Eddi arranged for her parents to sit at one of the small dining tables, she slipped to the back of the group and concentrated on Mrs. DeBloom.
“So we’ll be starting there,” she said, and Eddi hoped “there” didn’t involve a scene that featured her character. She had no idea what Mrs. DeBloom had said before. “I guess all we need at this point is our Darcy and Elizabeth, as well as the Bennet family, Charlotte Lucas, and of course those of you playing the dance line as well as the crowd.”
Eddi debated whether or not to raise her hand and admit her lack of knowledge. She imagined Mrs. DeBloom’s disapproving sniffle as she re-explained the directions. It was enough to make Eddi feel like an inattentive seventh-grader. She chose to move toward the stage and hoped to glean information about the starting point.
“Did you hear what scene we’re working on?” Dave’s low voice delivered a jolt of aversion that overpowered the man’s masculine appeal.
Rick’s story, still fresh, had acted like acid upon an open wound. Eddi would rather eat live leeches than interact with Dave. She determined to ignore him just as he had rudely ignored her parents. But his powerful presence evoked an answer. Eddi responded before she could stop herself.
“I have no earthly idea where we’re starting.” She squeezed her way around the crowd and rushed toward the stage’s stairs.
The heavy fall of boots in her wake insisted Dave followed close behind. Ahead of them, Jenny and Calvin ascended the stairs with Cheri. Eddi increased her pace and called for Cheri. The upcoming practice loomed before her, and Eddi wondered how she would survive.
“Cheri!” she called again.
Her friend ended the conversation with Calvin and pivoted to face Eddi. With a friendly wave, Cheri stepped toward Eddi, who was so honed upon escaping Dave, she stumbled over the lowest stage stair. For the first time in her life, Eddi fell up a flight of steps. The more she tried to prevent the fall, the harder the stairs’ edges banged into her. By the time she rumbled to a stop, her shins ached, her right elbow throbbed, and her hip insisted it had received a whopping bruise.
“Oh . . .” Eddi moaned and tried to tell herself this was not the time or place to indulge in a cry. Nevertheless, the humiliation coupled with the pain sent a telltale sting to her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Dave’s concern intensified Eddi’s emotions. He was the last person she ever wanted to witness her weak moment.
“I’m fine,” she whimpered and wished she could steady her wobbly tones. Eddi willed away the sting in her eyes as a huddle formed around her. Fellow cast members began a series of concerned exclamations.
“Do you think you can stand?” Dave knelt in front of Eddi. The gaze that often flashed with mockery now caressed her in genuine concern. “Your ankles—do they feel twisted?” Dave’s firm fingers probed her bare ankles.
“No, they’re fine—really.” Eddi brushed aside his hands and wished she didn’t revert to delicious tingles with the man’s every touch.
“And what about your knees?”
“Knees feel fine,” she said and tried to stand.
“Here, let me help.”
She attempted to protest, but to no avail. Dave used one arm for support and the other to pull Eddi to her feet. He rested his hands on her shoulders and steadied her. As Eddi gained her equilibrium, she rasped out her thanks. The rest of the cast, convinced of her well-being, bustled up the stairs. Dave ushered Eddi toward the wall.
“Are you going to be okay?” he repeated.
“Yes, I think so,” Eddi said and wished he wouldn’t stand so close. “Nothing seems broken, anyway.” She focused on his shirt’s top button.
“You got a haircut.” A trace of disappointment tainted his wor
ds.
“Well, so did you,” Eddi defended and found the courage to look into his eyes.
“So I did,” he acquiesced and flashed one of his People magazine grins.
They hadn’t been this close since after the tornado. The scent of subtle masculinity reminded Eddi of her yearning for him to kiss her on the porch—even after he’d insulted her.
Dave’s attention lazed toward her lips and ended any doubts that he might likewise be thinking of their porch encounter. He’d even teased her about the tornado coming back that day. Without a hint of warning, her imagination fabricated a scenario that replicated the closing seconds of her crazy dream. Except this time, the fantasy didn’t end until Dave actually kissed her.
Despite her commitment to despising the man, an electric ripple tempted her to move closer. Eddi bolted backward and bumped into the wall. Never had she been so simultaneously attracted and repelled by a man. Never. William Fitzgerald Davidson had proven himself an egocentric scoundrel with a deadly tongue—not only to her, but also to Rick Wallace. And only God himself knew what Dave was up to in that building behind his house. Nevertheless, her knees threatened to collapse again.
“Are you okay?” Cheri called. She waited at the top of the steps with Jenny and Calvin at her side. As the last participants walked onto the stage, they started down the stairs.
“Sure, I’m fine,” Eddi answered and trotted up the steps toward them. “See!” She stretched out her arms and stifled a gasp as her elbow protested. “Just a few minor bumps.”
“Some people will do anything for a little attention,” Jenny teased.
“So we won’t talk about the time you fell down the steps at the state capitol,” Eddi chided and gently punched her sister’s arm.
“No fair! You’re dragging up the past,” Jenny complained and looked at Calvin. “I was only twelve!”
“I’m sure it was a graceful fall,” Calvin doted.
“Yes, the most.” Jenny crossed her arms and directed a pretend glare at her sister.
First Impressions: A Contemporary Retelling of Pride and Prejudice Page 13