Carston nodded. He was still grinning. “Sounds fine to me.”
“Carston, I’m sure you don’t want to do this,” Sherry pleaded. “Besides, it looks like it’s going to start raining any minute now, and the children’s hospital is miles and miles away from here.” And that meant hours of being alone together. Something she wasn’t sure she was ready for.
“So get an early start. Leave right after breakfast,” Charlie shouted with something akin to triumph. He certainly looked smug.
“Look, Charlie—” Sherry began.
“Sherry doesn’t have to be at the hospital until this afternoon,” said Charlie, cutting her off again, rolling out his idea as if she hadn’t uttered a peep. “Sure, it’s a longish drive, but from what I hear, it’s a beautiful part of the country. You could have lunch in Traverton, and that’s near the hospital.”
“You want to tell us what to eat while you’re at it?” Sherry glared at Charlie sourly. “How about the conversation? Are we allowed to talk about anything we want, or do you want to control that too?”
Charlie’s tormented expression was as false as a dozing piranha’s. “I don’t know, chicken. Here I am, trying to arrange things so you can have a free day in good company, and you accuse me of trying to manipulate you.” He sighed. “Just doing my best and getting no thanks, as usual.”
“Lunch in Traverton with Sherry sounds fine to me,” Carston said, calmly.
But Sherry thought he was looking just as smug as Charlie was.
“You see? He likes the idea too,” Charlie exploded triumphantly.
Sherry shook her head. “Carston, be careful. Don’t underestimate Charlie-boy here. He starts plotting before he even wakes up in the morning. More than likely, he’s told every single journalist in the western world that you and I will be in Traverton today. We won’t even be able to play tiddlywinks without being photographed.”
****
Under an even gloomier sky, Sherry and Carston contemplated the main street of Traverton. The only sign of bustling activity, aside from a candy wrapper drifting across the road, was an old-timer leaning on a lamppost and scratching his arm.
“The town seems a little on the sleepy side,” said Carston.
“I’m glad Charlie said this was the ideal place to have lunch,” said Sherry. “As far as I can see, there’s one fire hydrant, one grocery store, one hairdresser, a dress shop that features dead flies in its display window, a doubtful-looking bar, one greasy spoon, and not much else.”
“There might be a hidden wild side,” Carston suggested.
“Even so, it would be a sleepy wild side.”
“As far as lunch goes, I guess it’s the greasy spoon or die.”
“It’ll probably be the greasy spoon and die. Just when life’s looking good.” Sherry was grinning.
The diner, ominously called the Paradise Café, was, aside from a dead moth on the floor, empty of clients. A waitress with yellowish hair, leaned against the counter, eyes closed.
“At least you don’t have to worry about signing autographs in this place,” Carston whispered as he and Sherry slid into a booth. “Unless the moth gets excited.”
“Don’t have to worry about much of anything,” Sherry whispered back. “The waitress is asleep.”
“If she were awake, what would you order?”
Sherry shrugged. “A bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich without the bacon.”
“I’ll go for that.”
“You don’t have to stop eating meat just because I’m a vegetarian.”
“Eating meat in front of a vegetarian makes me feel like a savage.”
The waitress opened her eyes and, with infinite boredom, slouched over to their table.
Sherry smiled at her. “Why’s this place called The Paradise Café?”
The waitress gaped at Sherry for a full minute. Then shrugged. “Beats me.”
“Me too. That’s why I asked.”
“You guys wanna order or what?”
“Two coffees, two bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches without the bacon.”
“Suits me fine.” The waitress turned slowly and began shuffling in the direction of the counter. Then stopped. Whirled around with sudden and violent energy. Gaped at Sherry. “Hey! You’re not Sherry Valentine, are you? You sure look like Sherry Valentine, anyway. I bet you are.”
Sherry glanced ruefully at Carston before answering, “I only look like her.”
“Nah. Can’t fool me. I heard you were going to be down in Midville this week. You are Sherry Valentine. And I want your autograph, right?” She raced back, slapped a pen and none-too-clean piece of paper down on the table. “Sherry Valentine. Coming to Traverton. Isn’t that something.” Her voice was triumphant.
“I haven’t exactly come here. I’m only passing through.”
“You can have bacon on your sandwich if you want. Doesn’t cost extra.”
“No, thank you. No bacon.”
The waitress smirked knowingly. “Bet you don’t care if it costs. You’re so rich it doesn’t matter.”
“I don’t want bacon because I don’t eat meat.”
The waitress folded the paper with the autograph and tucked it into her pocket. Then looked sly. “Ask you a question?”
Sherry sighed with resignation. “Could I stop you?”
“You still dating Clyde Winter?”
“No.” Sherry avoided glancing at Carston across the table. “That’s just silly gossip. I never did date Clyde Winter.”
“How about Johnny Withlock?”
“No.” Sherry looked up beseechingly. There had to be a way to get rid of the woman.
“I read you dropped Johnny Withlock for Clyde Winter, and that Clyde Winter and you are going to get married. I read it in Star. And in Glitzy too.”
“Don’t believe what you read in Star or Glitzy. Never even read Star and Glitzy. Just line garbage cans with those rags.” From under her lashes Sherry finally peeked at Carston. He looked amused.
“I always read them,” said the waitress stubbornly. “I love Star especially.”
“Sherry Valentine doesn’t date Johnny Withlock or Clyde Winter because she’s with me.” Carston’s tone was definite.
Sherry stared at him. He only smiled archly at her.
The waitress scrutinized Carston, but he obviously didn’t look like any celebrity she’d ever seen in a glossy magazine. “So who are you?”
“Carston Hewlett. Playwright.”
“Oh.” Losing all interest, she turned and disappeared into the kitchen.
“You see,” Carston said. His eyes danced. “There are advantages in being on the serious side of art and not in light entertainment. I’ll never hit the pages of Star or Glitzy.”
Sherry shook her head ruefully. “Those papers are pure gossip, rumor, and fantasy. They’re just awful. And dangerous. They can ruin reputations, destroy relationships. Fortunately, neither Star nor Glitzy touch on what I really do in music.”
“Which is?”
“You really want to know? This could be boring for you.”
“Yes, I really want to know. And let me decide what I find boring.”
“Fine. Well, a long time ago, I decided I wouldn’t be a simple singer of hits because there are thousands of those. What I wanted to do was bring country music back to its roots, to its traditional instrumentation, to its origins in sixteenth- and seventeenth-century European folk songs.” She watched him, waited for him to challenge what she was saying.
His voice was mild, not challenging. “Where do you get your information?”
“I’ve spent years in archives and libraries, reading books on musicology and the history of music. And I’ve listened to the recordings of old-timers at the Library of Congress. Of course, most people don’t realize the amount of work that goes into my compositions.” She felt her chin jut out aggressively.
Carston’s look was quizzical. “Why are you so defensive?”
Defensive? He was right.
She was feeling defensive. She often did. Not all the time, of course, but now and again…whenever she felt she had to stand up for what she was; or when she thought someone underestimated her and disregarded her work; or when she thought people might sneer because she’d never finished high school. But was Carston doing any of that? Was he being condescending? No. He wasn’t.
So she was just over-reacting to that Ivy League image of his, an image that meant good schools, good society, university, and a wealthy caring family—all the things she’d missed out on. Yet she’d made up for the lack, hadn’t she? Shown she was worthy of respect, then proved it time and time again.
“I guess I just want to make sure you get the right picture.”
“I’ve been getting the right picture, I’m sure of it.” His eyes warm, he reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh.” Her defiance vanished in a flush of pleasure. Be careful, her inner voice warned again. This is a man with all the right phrases, the ones guaranteed to charm a woman. A smooth talker, a man of words—isn’t that his profession? She should be watching her every step, not melting like sweet yellow butter in the sun.
The waitress brought their sandwiches and, leaning against the counter, returned to her former torpor. She only opened her eyes when Carston asked for the bill.
“Same price with or without the bacon,” she said. “I can’t go around changing the rules just because you don’t want bacon. A bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich is still a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich with or without the bacon.”
“Like a glass of water without the glass,” said Sherry, idly.
“Or Sherry Valentine without prickles,” Carston replied, just as mildly.
Just as they reached the door of the Paradise Café, Sherry half-turned, looked back at the waitress. All her sleepiness had vanished, and cell phone in hand, she was busy punching in a number. Spreading the news that she’d been here with Carston? Well, so what? That waitress probably wouldn’t even remember his name.
****
When Carston stopped his car in the parking lot of the children’s hospital, Sherry took a tube of lipstick out of her purse.
“You’d look better without that, you know.” Then he felt like kicking himself for his rudeness. What right did he have, telling her what to do and how to look? Now she’d be furious.
She wasn’t. Instead, she turned to him with a good-natured smile. “Believe me, I hate this slop I smear all over my face, but it’s part of the show. The kids in the hospital want to meet the same Sherry they’ve seen on television. If they don’t, they’d think they were getting a fake.”
“Actually, that didn’t come out the way I intended it to.” He felt embarrassed. “I meant something else altogether.”
“Oh?” The lipstick tube stayed poised in the air. “And what were you meaning to say?”
“That you have a beautiful mouth. I noticed it the second I met you.” He reached out, traced the line of her lips with the tip of his finger. And felt his hand buzz.
“Thanks.” Her voice was soft; her eyes flickered. She didn’t move to put on the lipstick. Just sat there, staring at him. The softness in her eyes turned him inside out. She had it bad, he decided, and it looked like he was also sitting in the same keel-less boat.
He tried shoving some gruff into his voice. “Come on. Duty calls. The kids are in there, waiting. And about to ask you for your autograph.”
“Fine. Can’t put them in the same category as blood-thirsty Star reporters.”
“That’s for later. When word gets out we’ve spent almost the whole day together.” The idea gave him a warm spurt of satisfaction. For some crazy reason, he really did like the idea of having his name linked to hers.
“Wait and see how much you’ll like that,” she warned.
As they left the car, he realized he was feeling strangely nervous. He didn’t know any sick children, he didn’t know any other children either, and he wasn’t a famous singer or entertainer. Right now he was feeling like Sherry Valentine’s third wheel. “What am I supposed to do now that I’m here? I don’t know what to say to kids. I’m never around any.”
“You were an only child?”
“How do you know that?”
Her eyes were mocking. “It’s written all over you. I bet your mother thought you were the sun itself, and your father thought you were a genius.”
“Of course they did. Still do too. But that doesn’t tell me what I should do when we’re inside.”
Sherry’s smile was reassuring. “Stop worrying. You’re not expected to do anything. I’m the one they’re waiting for. But if you want to participate, it’s easy enough. Just talk to the kids. Tell them a story if you feel inspired. They’ll probably flood you with questions when they find out you write plays. Sick kids are just like healthy kids anywhere. They just want to have fun, and they deserve a hell of a lot more of it than they’re having at the moment.”
He wondered how Sherry would handle this, though. Charlie had claimed it wasn’t a publicity stunt, but did he really believe that? Surely, this was just another way of being on stage.
But he soon saw how much he’d underestimated the importance of a celebrity appearance. Most of the children had been assembled in a large, bright room; those who couldn’t be moved from their beds received a personal visit. And Sherry seemed to know exactly how to talk to each and every one. She did it naturally too, and adoring eyes watched her, took in her every move. One child had even drawn a picture of Sherry.
“A remarkable resemblance,” said Carston gravely as he examined the blinding pink blotch. “Picasso couldn’t have done it better.”
“Please, Miss Valentine, will you sing ‘Rocky Mountain Shower’?” asked one diminutive girl, her eyes hopeful.
“If you’ll all sing along with me.”
So they did. And it sounded fine, all things considered. In fact, there were many things to be considered, Carston decided. Like, how natural Sherry was, how unaffected, and that made her more seductive. Sure, the flashy exterior would always draw ogling men like flowers draw bees. Bees…like himself…humming with pleasure at her company. But her humor, her easy warmth also commanded respect.
Still, that was no reason to forget this was nothing permanent, nothing to take seriously, nothing more than a light, sexual attraction. Why read importance into this encounter? Sherry was a woman of experience—weren’t brief, sexual attractions all part of her glittery show business world? Of course they were. Sure Star and Glitzy printed gossip; sure the waitress in the Paradise Café was only repeating what she’d read about Sherry and those pretty boy stars, Johnny Withlock and Clyde Winter. But even if the information wasn’t one hundred percent correct, where there’s smoke, there’s always fire…
And, come to think of it, since the gossips and the paparazzi would be thinking the worst anyway, why bother driving all the way back to Midville? They could enjoy the rest of the afternoon in each other’s company, stop for a romantic dinner, then find a nice hotel somewhere along the road. If she agreed...And judging by her reactions so far, the softness in her eyes when she looked at him, Sherry Valentine wasn’t about to object to a night in his arms.
Oh yes. A night of making love was something they’d both enjoy very much, he was sure of it. All he needed to do was remain cool and not too eager, too lusty sounding—if he could manage it. He wasn’t so certain he could.
Chapter Five
“Do you have to get back to Midville right away?”
Sherry looked over at Carston, but his expression was neutral, as if her answer didn’t matter one way or the other. There was no hint of seduction in his voice, no innuendo.
On the left, just outside the car, the countryside curved into a deep valley where a glancing wind played over ragged grasses; on the right, a forest of blue shadow invited exploration. The sky, still dull, promised rain, but the air was as pungent as fresh chestnuts. She took a deep breath, as if she
were already out there, standing under the trees.
“Actually, I don’t feel like going back to Midville ever,” she answered truthfully. She’d kept her voice as neutral-sounding as he had, but she wanted to draw out this day for as long as possible. Relish the freedom; glory in the absence of crowds. Savor the pleasure of Carston’s company.
He smiled at her answer, and his neutrality vanished. He was as pleased as she was. “How about exploring that big thing ahead of us.” He gestured to a rocky mountain.
“Sure. Sounds fine. Just as long as we don’t have to explore every single inch of it in one afternoon.”
“Do you like going for walks?”
“I don’t get around to doing much of them. But the idea sounds great.”
Carston turned left, directed the car along the climbing forest road separating them from the gully below. Aside from one farm hidden behind a cluster of trees, there was no sign of human habitation. Several miles further on, the paved surface gave way entirely, became a dirt track.
“End of the line.” Carston stopped the car and turned off the engine. “We’re lost to the world.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Sherry warned. She pulled out her cell phone, pushed a few keys, and looked amused. “Hey, you know what? You’re right. There’s no signal up here. Even good old Charlie can’t get to us. Isn’t that nice? Of course, no phone signal doesn’t guarantee anything. Charlie has radar and sonar implants in that heart of his.”
They left the car and began wandering over the soft, forest floor. Carston caught her hand, threaded his fingers through hers, and it felt wonderful. Incredible how something so simple could seem intimate and so right. “Isn’t this beautiful,” she breathed. She knew she wasn’t only referring to the landscape.
Carston glanced at her curiously. “Don’t you get out into the country very often?”
“Oh yes, I do.” She smiled wryly. “I’m constantly leaving one city, roaring through the country, and arriving in the next city.”
“How about time off?”
“Oh, I’m allowed to sleep most nights, but it’s been so many years since I did anything comparable to this, I’d forgotten what it’s like.” She looked around her, luxuriated in the resinous air. “Just think, at this very moment, most people in Midville are in offices, or are racing around in cars, or are running into stores and buying things, or are complaining about not being able to own something and feeling depressed about it. And look at this—” Her arm made a wide eloquent gesture that took in the forest, the mountain and the sky. “This is what real luxury is all about.”
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