Designer Genes

by Diamond, Jacqueline

  “Why would we do that?” Louise had asked. “If we put you behind bars, who’ll run Charger Productions and earn us another pile of money?”

  The outcome gave Carter a sense of satisfaction, yet he felt that something was wrong. Specifically, that something was wrong between him and Buffy.

  He hadn’t seen much of her since Sunday. On Monday and Tuesday, when she wasn’t meeting with the lawyer, she spent her time scouring L.A.’s garment district for clothing, accessories, patterns, notions and fabric. By the time she got home, she was so exhausted she went to bed early.

  In Buffy’s absence, Carter enjoyed taking care of his daughter and observing her development. Alison was starting to crawl, and her vocabulary had grown to include “ba ba” for goodbye.

  But he missed Buffy. He could hardly wait until their return to Nowhere Junction, when he would have her all to himself.

  He would take slowly with her. It wouldn’t be right to propose while she was still technically married. More importantly, he didn’t believe she was ready for such a commitment.

  She must have made love to him on the spur of the moment. Thoughts of marriage couldn’t have entered her mind, since she’d known she wasn’t free.

  His luck might be changing, though. Carter had yielded to his impulse to follow her to L.A., with triumphant results. In a few months, or maybe a year, he might be ready to risk having his heart broken by popping the big question. Surely if she meant to say no, she’d at least be polite about it.

  On Thursday morning, a few hours before they were to fly to Texas, Buffy drove off in one of Roger’s cars with a pile of boxes to ship. She took Allie with her, leaving Carter without his usual small companion.

  He had nothing to pack except a single change of clothing and some toys and books he’d picked up for the baby. Feeling restless and abandoned, he went to say goodbye to Louise.

  He found her swimming laps in the pool. There was no sign of Roger, who’d cleared out of the house on Monday and was staying in a hotel until his “guests” departed.

  A lounge chair squeaked beneath Carter’s weight as he propped his feet and settled back to admire Louise’s form. He hoped he’d be in equally good shape when he was her age, whatever that was.

  She emerged, water dripping from her purple swimsuit. “Alone again?” she asked. “Where’s Buffy?”

  “Mailing packages for her shop,” he said. “We’re leaving in a couple of hours.”

  “I think I’ll hang around for a while and enjoy my California vacation at Roger’s expense.” She toweled off. “I met a nice man at the party after you and Buffy left, a film editor. He promised to show me how he works his magic.”

  “Sounds like he’s inviting you up to see his etchings,” he teased.

  “I hope so!” She took a seat beside him. “There’s nothing more precious than romance. Speaking of which, what’s eating Buffy?”

  “I have no idea.” Louise had observed her standoffishness, too, Carter registered unhappily. He’d hoped that he was imagining it.

  “You must have hurt her feelings,” she said.

  He shook his head. “I don’t see how. Heck, she agreed to move back to my home town so we can raise our daughter together. Why would she have said yes if she was angry?”

  The older woman regarded him as if he were a rather slow-witted panda at the zoo. “I don’t suppose there was any mention of marriage in this discussion?”

  “Of course not!” He swung his feet to the ground and sat up straight. “She’s still a married woman.”

  Louise bunched her towel as if tempted to whack him with it. “Forget the technicalities. Roger certainly has. And the woman’s agreed to move to— what’s it called?—No Known Function, Texas. Why do you think she’s doing that, you big sap?”

  “Because it’s the right thing for Allie.” Even to him, the explanation sounded weak. “I reckon that might not be all, huh?”

  “Keep reckoning until you hit a sensible idea,” retorted Louise, and went into the house.

  Maybe he ought to observe Buffy more closely, Carter reflected. But he doubted he was mistaken.

  *

  After she returned from shipping her purchases, Buffy disappeared into the bedroom to pack. Later, in the taxi, she fussed over Allie and chatted with the cab driver, soliciting his opinions about women’s fashions and what his girlfriend wore. She spoke only a few words to Carter.

  If she was in love, you couldn’t tell, he thought. She didn’t seem unhappy, though. Not until they were airborne and he saw a tear glimmer in the corner of her eye as she gazed out the window.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Are you crying?”

  She sniffled. “Getting a cold.”

  “In April?”

  “They’re the worst kind.”

  He didn’t dare blurt out the question on his mind. Asking a woman if she was upset because he hadn’t asked her to marry him was, even to Carter’s unpolished self, clearly a numbskull thing to do.

  A flight attendant stopped by. Her nameplate read Susan. “Care for a magazine?” She held one out.

  Buffy reached for it, then snatched her hand away as if she’d been burned. “No, thanks.”

  The magazine was Modern Bride.

  What was he waiting for, a lightning strike? Carter asked himself. Between her actions and Louise’s comments, he could no long ignore the reality. Against all odds, she wanted to marry him. He’d dallied so long, she must think he didn’t love her enough to propose.

  Since high school, Carter had been afraid to risk disgrace by following his instincts. This time, he’d acted like a complete idiot by ignoring them.

  He wished Allie’s car seat didn’t occupy the space between them. He also wished he’d brought a ring and a spray of roses. Marriage proposals deserved a celebration.

  Maybe he could wangle a bit of champagne. Although Carter hadn’t intentionally consumed alcohol in years, this might be an exception.

  A glance at Buffy showed her absorbed in a sewing-supply catalog. As soon as the Fasten Seat Belts signs went dark. Carter made his way to the galley.

  He found Susan loading packages of peanuts onto a drink cart. Nearby, people were lining up to use the rest rooms.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “Do you have any champagne?”

  She checked the bottles. “I’m sorry, no. White wine is the best I can do.”

  Carter sighed. “I just decided to ask my girlfriend to marry me. It doesn’t seem very romantic without a ring or champagne or anything.”

  “How about flowers?” asked a woman waiting in the bathroom line.

  “That would help.” He wondered where you found flowers on an airplane.

  From her purse, she pulled three novelty ballpoint pens. The eraser ends sprouted plastic flowers in red, yellow and orange. “I run a gardening service. These are promotional items.”

  “They’re great. Thanks,” he said, taking them.

  “Say, I have something you might use.” The man next to her drew a small object from his sport coat. “It’s a key chain from my insurance company.”

  “Mighty kind of you.” Holding it in his palm. Carter saw that it consisted of a plastic tag and a small key ring.

  “You can give her this.” A little girl standing beside her mother stuck out a fist. She opened it to reveal a squashed, foil-wrapped chocolate kiss.

  “That’s very generous, but I can’t take your candy,” Carter said.

  A pair of big brown eyes stared at him fiercely. “You have to,” she said. “I insist.”

  Her mother chuckled. “Annette knows her own mind.”

  “I never argue with a lady,” Carter replied and accepted with thanks.

  Carrying these gifts, plus two miniature bottles of white wine and plastic glasses, he felt loaded and primed as he eased down the aisle. How could Buffy resist?

  He received his answer the moment he saw her. Eyes shut and breathing regular,
she drooped into a skimpy airline pillow wedged against a window shade.

  His beloved was dead to the world.

  *

  Buffy drifted in and out of sleep. She kept wishing she’d had time to visit her younger sister, Stephanie, and her mom, who lived in Norco, east of L.A.

  She’d had to content herself with a long-overdue Skype call. They’d brought each other up-to-date on recent events, like Buffy’s divorce and Stephanie’s older son finishing kindergarten, but the medium hadn’t been conducive to a heart-to-heart.

  She wanted to tell Stef that she understood now why a woman would choose to marry and live in an out-of-the-way place like Norco. Buffy blushed to remember the things she’d said to her sister before the wedding, warning that Stef would turn into an old frump.

  Old frumpdom was looking better all the time. So were small towns, loving husbands and the prospect of launching little kids into life’s great adventures from a secure home.

  Beside her, Allie began babbling. Reluctantly Buffy opened her eyes.

  Her peripheral vision told her at once that Carter wasn’t in his seat. Stretching cramped muscles, she glanced around.

  The young couple across the aisle must have been studying her, because they quickly averted their gazes. Behind them, an older man leaned forward and grinned at Buffy.

  These must be the friendly skies she’d heard so much about, she thought as she smiled back.

  Over the hum of the plane engine, she caught a few phrases from the seats ahead of her. The word “awake” reached her several times, as did the sound of people shushing each other. What was going on?

  “Isn’t it time for them to throw coffee and stale pretzels at us?” she asked Allie as she raised her window shade. “Where’s your father, anyway?”

  “Da da,” said the baby, and bit on a teething ring shaped like Mickey Mouse. It had been a gift from Carter.

  Buffy squeezed past her daughter and moved into Carter’s aisle seat. He had been gone an awfully long time, she thought. Since she doubted he’d parachuted from the plane à la James Bond, she leaned out to see if he was waiting for the bathroom.

  A sea of faces stared back at her. She picked out a grizzled man in a cowboy hat, two brightly dressed African-American women, a striking Asian woman with a toddler on her lap, a couple of senior citizens holding hands, a Hispanic man in a business suit and a girl with long blonde hair. They all caught her gaze, then busied themselves with their tablets and phones. How odd.

  Buffy noticed some litter on the floor. “This sure is a messy airline,” she told her daughter. “They let people dump stuff anywhere.”

  But, wait. The litter consisted of unopened packages of peanuts, and they formed a pattern along the aisle. Puzzled, she stood up for a closer look.

  Over the silence of the passengers, the thrum of the airplane sounded louder than usual. It must be her imagination, but they all seemed to be reading the message on the carpet along with her.

  It said, “Marry Me.”

  “I wonder who that’s for,” she remarked to Allie. “Whoever wrote it should have included a name.”

  “It’s your own fault,” said the old man across the aisle.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your name has all those curvy letters in it,” he said. “He couldn’t make a B, and the U looked too much like a V.”

  “He who?” she asked.

  “How many men want to marry you?” the man retorted.

  “Hey! You’re stealing my thunder!” Here came Carter, stepping around the peanuts. He held out a fistful of plastic flowers. “These are for you.”

  Buffy wondered if she was still asleep. Even in a dream, though, she couldn’t leave Carter standing with his hand outstretched, so she took the flowers.

  “Go on, ask her,” a man called. Someone must have whacked him, because he added, “Stop hitting me!”

  A light danced in Carter’s gray eyes. She’d never seen him this playful. “Well?” he asked. “Will you?”

  “Will I what?” she asked dazedly.

  A few aisles ahead, a little boy demanded, “What did she say? Is she going to...”

  Three people went “Shh!”

  Carter knelt in the aisle. From this angle, she saw that a tuft of hair was sticking up from the back of his head. Instinctively, she smoothed it.

  He caught her hand and held up a silvery ring attached to a tag. “Buffy, will you marry me?”

  “Mama, Dada,” said Allie.

  All the people on the plane seemed to be holding their breath. They were waiting for her answer, Buffy realized. She waited for it, too, feeling disembodied.

  What’s wrong with you? You can talk to cars, you can talk to cats, you can talk to babies, but you can’t talk to the man you love when he’s asking you to marry him?

  “Yes,” she said.

  A buzz ran through the plane. “What did she say?” “Yes!” “They’re getting married?” “Yes!”

  Carter slid the ring into place. It was so large, he had to hold her finger to prevent the thing falling off. From up and down the aisle, she heard the click of phone cameras capturing the moment.

  “You’ve made me the happiest man on this flight,” he said. “When we land, I’ll be the happiest man on earth.”

  “This is for real, right?” said Buffy.

  “I’ll prove it to you.” Still on his knees, he leaned close and kissed her.

  More clicking, and a scattering of applause. To her embarrassment, someone began humming “Here Comes the Bride,” and the whole planeload took it up.

  “Okay, everybody.” It was the flight attendant, pushing a cart of drinks. “Mr. Murchison, would you pick up the peanuts like you promised? We’re running late.”

  Buffy was grateful when the humming faded and passengers scrambled to help him collect bags of peanuts. “Marry Me” disappeared, but not entirely; several people requested her email address and promised to send pictures.

  Buffy went through her twisting and edging performance again to reach the window, and allowed Carter to regain his seat. They sat there beaming at each other over the baby’s head.

  Carter poured two plastic tumblers of wine and handed her one. “Pretend this is champagne.”

  She held up her glass. From the loose ring on her finger dangled a tag that read, We Insure A Happy Future.

  “To freedom,” she said. “May mine last about twenty-four hours after the divorce becomes final.”

  “Less, if we can arrange it with Pastor O’Rourke,” he said, and took a sip.

  Buffy sank back with a sense of profound contentment. Outside, the clouds parted to reveal the Texas landscape fleeting beneath them.

  For a woman who loved the glamour of big city life, she was heading for Nowhere, fast. And she couldn’t have been happier about it.

  The End

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  Author’s Note

  My friend and fellow author Charlotte Lobb, writing as Charlotte Maclay, gets the credit for dreaming up the name Nowhere Junction, which we used in linked books (two apiece) for the former Harlequin Duets line. The name put me in mind of the small town where I was born--Menard, Texas—from which I drew a few details, such as the golf course as it existed during my childhood.

  Charlotte and I had previously worked together on a Harlequin American Romance miniseries, The Brides Of Grazer’s Corners, with Mindy Neff. This time, based on our previous brainstorming experience, Charlotte and I were ready to swing into action.

  We played hooky during a workshop at the Orange County chapter of Romance Writers of America and met in a restaurant. There we devised the town’s layout and such kooky characters as Mazeppa the Bag Lady and Horace Popsworthy, the blowhard mayoral candidate.

  Because Designer Genes and Charlotte’s sequel
, Two for One, were packaged together, we created some continuing plotlines, never envisioning that the books might someday be separated. Rather than leave you hanging as to the fate of the school, I’m here to report that Mazeppa turns out to be the widow of an oil multi-millionaire. Disgusted with the way her children fought over their inheritance, she moved out and posed as a homeless woman. Later she reconciles with her quarrelsome children and donates the money to build Nowhere Junction’s new school. She’s become fond of the town’s babies and wants to ensure them a good education.

  I’m sorry to report that Charlotte died of cancer shortly before I reissued Designer Genes. I miss her very much.

  Such is the passage of time…you may have noticed that I dedicated this book to my longtime mechanics, Ed and Keith. Sadly, Keith has also passed away. Ed is still my mechanic.

  About the Author

  Best-selling author Jacqueline Diamond has sold more than 95 novels, including romantic comedy, romantic suspense, fantasy, mystery and Regency historical romance, to a range of publishers. A two-time finalist for the Rita Award, Jackie received a Career Achievement Award from Romantic Times and is a former reporter and TV columnist for the Associated Press. She also writes the Safe Harbor Medical miniseries for Harlequin American Romance. To learn more about Jackie and her monthly ebook specials, please visit www.jacquelinediamond.com (where you can sign up for her mailing list), or, on Facebook, JacquelineDiamondAuthor. Say hello to her on Twitter at @Jacquediamond.

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