by Webb, Peggy
“Yes. Sometimes. I use them in the nurseries. Especially with boys.”
Joseph actually glanced around to see if he’d fallen down the rabbit hole and was conversing with Alice. After all, Maxie did have a ribbon in her hair. Not many women past the age of sixteen wore colored ribbons in their hair.
Certainly not Susan. His fiancée wouldn’t be caught dead with an ornament of any kind in her hair, let alone a ribbon. That was one thing that made her so perfect for Joseph: her bone-deep conservatism. She had other sterling qualities, of course, but he was hard-pressed to think of them right now.
He could barely remember his own name, for the bewitching Maxie had just run her tongue over her bottom lip.
“What nurseries?” He felt disoriented, as if he’d landed on another planet in another body, one bent on betraying him. He controlled the rising tide of heat with an iron will. “What boys?”
“Oh, not real ones. Wallpaper ones.”
“Wallpaper boys?” Was there something Crash hadn’t told him about Maxie? For instance, that she was a little bit batty?
Her laughter was full and deep-throated, surprising in such a small woman, and altogether enchanting. Luckily he wasn’t the kind of man who fell victim to enchantment.
“The boys are real, of course. The zebras are not. They’re painted on the wallpaper I sometimes use when I decorate nurseries for my clients.”
“I see.”
Joseph had completely forgotten that she was an interior designer. In her company, it was easy to forget a lot of things.
Her shop was called Magic Maxie’s, an appropriate name considering that she was given to flights of fancy even in such mundane surroundings as Randall’s Barber Shop and Emporium, the emporium part due to a rack of paperback books the owner sold at a discount and a shelf of very fine cigars he stocked on all major holidays.
Fortunately, Randall considered the Ides of March a major holiday. When Joseph got back to his office he would pass out cigars in honor of being a godfather.
That is, if he ever got back. At the rate Maxie was going, he might be there until next Wednesday, still trying to catch the drift of her conversation.
“My favorite is the border with the angels riding circus animals,” she said. “It’s so fanciful and marvelous.” She tipped her head and shot a brilliant smile in his direction. “I think every child should be exposed to something marvelous, don’t you?”
If it hadn’t been for her smile, he could readily have disagreed. Only a monster would contradict her and risk snuffing out that smile.
“I never gave it any thought, but yes, I suppose a marvel every now and then might be appropriate.”
He couldn’t think of a single marvelous thing he’d seen or done in the last fifteen years. Or maybe ever.
His brother, Crash, was the fanciful one. Joseph had always been focused and reliable, with his feet firmly planted on the ground... with one notable exception.
He pushed the memory to the back of his mind.
“Great,” Maxie said, whipping a small notepad out of her hot pink shoulder bag. What else did he expect? She dashed off a note. “I’m glad you agree.”
“Now wait a minute. I haven’t agreed to anything.” Her smile made him think of angels with crooked halos and bedraggled wings. “What did you write in that notebook?”
“A reminder to call Quitman this afternoon... about the zebras.”
He leaped from his chair as if she’d set off rockets under his coattail.
“I will not have zebras at my nephew’s christening party. Not only is it undignified, but it has all the makings of a disaster.”
He knew he was towering over her, but he didn’t care. He was not going to be persuaded to do something foolish simply because she looked tiny and fragile staring up at him with her big blue eyes. Maxie Corban was anything but fragile.
“Don’t blame me if you have a gap in your hair,” Randall said. “Party pooper.”
“Thank you, Randall.” Maxie beamed at him. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Joseph figured the best thing to do was ignore them, though ignoring Maxie was about as easy as ignoring a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse. She marched up behind him as he shrugged into his navy blazer.
“How about a nice cuddly lamb or two? We could get those at Crash and B. J.’s farm.”
“No live animals. End of discussion.”
He headed for the door, deliberately trying to outdistance her. But she matched him stride for stride. She had long legs for a small woman, long, shapely legs. She put him in mind of that old Betty Grable pinup his granddaddy Beauregard had tacked in his barracks during World War II.
“How can it be the end of the discussion? We’ve agreed on absolutely nothing. We haven’t even begun.”
All activity in the shop ceased as Maxie walked by. Correct that, Joe thought. Maxie didn’t walk. She marched, she strutted, she paraded.
“I’m going to the office.”
He strode toward his car. Maxie had parked beside him, a fiery red Volkswagen Beetle with a broad white stripe and a dented top. Next to his big black Lincoln, her car looked like a peppermint somebody had stepped on.
“I’ll come with you.”
“No.”
He could picture it, Maxie sweeping through his office, eyebrows lifting, tongues wagging. He glanced down at her. The top of her head barely came to his shoulder, and in the bright sun her hair blazed, poppies streaked with gold.
Joseph moderated his tone. “I’m going to be late for my ten o’clock appointment.”
“The christening party is only six weeks away.”
“That gives us plenty of time.”
“Not if future meetings go the way this one did. We didn’t agree on a single thing today.”
“That’s my fault. I should never have agreed to talk about it today. Randall’s barbershop is not an appropriate setting for a business meeting.”
“A business meeting?” Maxie looked as if she’d discovered a bug in her soup. “This is a party we’re talking about. For my nephew.”
“He’s mine too.”
“Well, you certainly don’t act like it. For all the enthusiasm you show, he might as well be one of those criminals you defend.”
“I’m a corporate attorney.”
“That’s what I said.” Her grin was as pert as her stance.
A man could get sidetracked by the way she looked standing in the sun, eyes shooting fire and every part of her body thrust forward and wired for battle. Fortunately, he was not that kind of man. His life was mapped out right down to the silver pattern he used to eat his spaghetti every Wednesday night. Maxie Corban was merely a necessary and temporary diversion.
“In spite of what you might think, I’m deeply concerned about this party and have every desire that it proceed as smoothly as possible,” He glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes late. A quarter of a billable hour. “When I get to the office I’ll have my secretary call your secretary to set up an appointment.... You do have a secretary, don’t you?”
“I have Claude.”
She had as many different kinds of smiles as she did moods. The one she gave him made her as mysterious and intriguing as the Mona Lisa.
All the way to the office he wondered who Claude was... and what he did for Maxie Corban besides the typing.
o0o
“You mean he nixed every idea you presented?” Claude pressed his hands to his cheeks in horror.
“Everything,” Maxie said.
“Well, dear, I hope you gave him a piece of your mind.”
“I don’t have any to spare, Claude.”
“Tsk, tsk. You are the most brilliant and talented person in Tupelo. With the possible exception of myself.”
Claude went to the kitchenette and made two cups of hot tea.
Maxie’s shop was in a small loft over an antiques shop on Main Street. Bright paintings and prints covered the walls, a sectional sofa upholstered in vivid p
ink faced the wide sweep of French windows, and a large oak drafting table strewn with colorful fabric swatches divided the main workroom from the kitchenette.
Claude handed her a cup of tea. “I put two lumps of sugar in yours. You need the extra energy after dealing with that lump.”
Claude talked as if he were onstage, punctuating his speech with dramatic gestures and emphatic enunciation.
“He’s not a lump.”
“Well, darling, he’s certainly not Mr. Perfect.”
Maxie was not above dramatics herself. Heaving a sigh worthy of the divas of the silver screen, she sank onto the sofa, holding her tea carefully between cupped hands.
“Once upon a time I thought so.” She sighed once more. “Did I ever tell you about the first time we met?”
“It’s been a while. Refresh me on the details, darling.”
“It was when B. J. decided to have a baby...” she began.
It had been nine months, almost to the day, Maxie remembered. She had gone to a banquet for Tupelo’s elite to help her sister find the perfect father, and there he was, Joseph Patrick Beauregard, Mr. Right. Mr. Perfect. Mr. Dreamboat.
B. J. didn’t think so, of course. She only had eyes for his brother, but Maxie was smitten, snowed, dazzled, enchanted. Until...
“There we were,” she said, concluding her story, “Mr. Dreamboat and I, sitting side by side in the moonlight at B. J.’s first social gathering after her marriage, not saying a word to each other for two solid hours.”
“Not a single word?” Claude clapped his hands over his cheeks, aghast for the hundredth time. Maxie took comfort in the familiar.
“Well, I tried at first, but I gave up after he turned two shades of pale when I introduced the subject of the mating habits of the praying mantis... you know, the female eats the male after they mate. Crash and B. J. thought it was funny, but Joseph didn’t even crack a smile.”
Not only that, but she’d later overheard him in the foyer telling Crash his sister-in-law was highly inappropriate.
Inappropriate for what, she’d like to know. But she would never ask. Not in a million years.
Especially after what had happened that night in B. J.’s guest bedroom.
“And that’s it?” Claude leaned forward, his teacup delicately balanced on his knees. “He’s avoided you because of praying mantises?”
“I’ve avoided him.”
There were some things she couldn’t tell even her best friend.
“Of course, darling. That’s the way it ought to be.”
Maxie jumped up and paced the loft, then stood at the window. Across the street Kathy pulled up the shades in the art gallery, readying the historic bank building for the small flurry of art lovers who would come inside on their lunch hours.
Behind her the phone rang.
“Hello,” Claude said. Then, “Just a minute, I’ll see if she’s in.” He covered the receiver with his hand. “Are you in?”
“Who is it?”
“Joseph Patrick Beauregard.”
Chills went all over Maxie. “Not his secretary?”
“The man himself.”
“Tell him... I’m not in.”
“She’s not in. Can I take a message?”
Maxie tensed, waiting. Only after she heard the click of the receiver did she relax.
“He wants to see you after-hours tomorrow, to discuss the baby’s party.”
“What time?”
“Around six. I told him I’d check with you and let him know.”
She felt as if she were on a carousel, giddy and dizzy, spinning round and round with no way off.
“Call him back in about an hour and say...”
What? Maxie Corban doesn’t want to see you because she’s a coward? Because she can’t forget a hot summer night nearly a year ago?
“... say I’ll be there.”
“Maxie, are you all right, dear? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I have, practically.”
“It’s that man, isn’t it? Good grief, I wouldn’t care a flitter what he thought about my conversational skills.”
“That’s not all there is to it, Claude.”
“I knew it.” Claude sat down and patted the sofa cushion beside him. “Tell me all about it. You know you can trust me with your deepest, darkest secret.”
Maxie kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under her.
“The truth is, he still rings my chimes.”
“Then I wouldn’t let something as silly as praying mantises stop me from a little ting-a-ling.”
“It’s not that. It’s B. J.”
“Your sister? I knew she was straitlaced, but I didn’t know she was a prude.”
“It’s nothing she’s said or done, it’s me. You know my track record with men. Every man I get involved with ends up in a wilderness somewhere contemplating his navel. My sister loves her brother-in-law. She’d die if I was the cause of his ruination. Somebody else might ruin Joseph Patrick Beauregard, but it won’t be me.”
“Do you want my advice, or do you want me just to listen?”
“Just listen.”
“That’s what I thought.” Claude sipped his tea. “It’s hard, though. I do love meddling in other people’s affairs. Especially yours. They’re so exciting.”
Claude could always make her laugh. She guessed that was one of the reasons they were such good friends.
“Can you come by the house tonight? I’m going to watch I Love Lucy reruns and eat tons of popcorn with butter.”
“Anything for Magic Maxie.”
“Thanks, Claude. If there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know.”
“There is one thing.”
“Name it.”
“Take my advice. This is not about you-know-who, it’s about the christening party. Just plan the thing yourself and let that odious man stew in his own juices.”
“I’m tempted.”
“Then why don’t you do it?”
“I can’t. B. J. named both of us as godparents. My sister is counting on me.”
o0o
About Peggy Webb
In a career that spans 28 years, the Mississippi author has written 70 books. As Peggy Webb, she writes romance and the hilarious Southern Cousins Mystery Series starring Elvis, the basset hound who thinks he’s the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll reincarnated. She writes literary fiction under the pen names Anna Michaels (for Simon & Schuster) and Elaine Hussey (The Sweetest Hallelujah, MIRA, July 30, 2013). This best-selling, critically acclaimed author has won many awards, including a Romantic Times Pioneer Award for creating the sub-genre of romantic comedy. Several of her romances have been optioned for film.
The Tender Mercy of Roses, 2011, written as Anna Michaels, is a Delta Magazine Top Five Pick, a Literary Guild and Doubleday Book Club Featured Alternate. Pat Conroy, author of The Prince of Tides, calls it “astonishing.”
Peggy is a member of Novelists, Inc., International Thriller Writers, and Romance Writers of America. She is excited about bringing her romance classics (originally published as Bantam Loveswepts) back to readers as E-books. The award-winning Touched by Angels and A Prince for Jenny, as well as the Donovans of the Delta series, are Kindle Top 100 bestsellers.
Follow the author on her websites: www.peggywebb.com, www.elainehussey.comand www.annamichaels.net and on Facebook and Twitter.
o0o
Other E-Books from Peggy Webb
Classic Romance (originally published as Loveswept)
Dark Fire
Touched by Angels (RT Reviewer’s Choice)
A Prince for Jenny, sequel to Touched by Angels
The Edge of Paradise
Duplicity (Rave review, RT Reviewer’s Choice)
Where Dolphins Go (RT Reviewer’s Choice, women’s fiction, optioned for film)
Night of the Dragon (time travel romance)
Christmas in Time (time travel, prequel to Only Yesterday)
Only Yesterday, (time trav
el, sequel to Christmas in Time)
Summer Jazz
Taming Maggie (#1 on romance bestseller list)
That Jones Girl (sequel to the Mississippi McGills series)
The Donovans of the Delta Series:
Donovan’s Angel (Paul Donovan’s story)
Sleepless Nights (Tanner Donovan’s story)
Hallie’s Destiny (award winning book, Hallie Donovan’s story)
Any Thursday (Hannah Donovan’s story)
Higher Than Eagles (Jacob Donovan’s story)
The Mississippi McGills Series (spin-off from Donovans of the Delta)
Valley of Fire (Rick McGill’s story)
Until Morning Comes (Jo Beth McGill and Colter Gray Wolf’s story)
Saturday Mornings (Andrew McGill’s story)
Forever Friends series
Can’t Stop Loving You (Book 1, Helen’s story)
Only His Touch (Kat’s story, Book 2)
Bringing Up Baxter (B. J.’s story, Book 3)
Angels on Zebras (Maxie’s story, Book 4)
Romantic Suspense, originally published as Bantam Fanfare
Witch Dance
From A Distance
E-books Coming Soon
The Secret Life of Elizabeth McCade
Southern Cousins Mysteries, Peggy Webb (available in print and e-books)
Published by Kensington
Elvis and the Dearly Departed, 2008
Elvis and the Grateful Dead, 2009
Elvis and the Memphis Mambo Murders, 2010
Elvis and the Tropical Double Trouble, 2011
Elvis and the Blue Christmas Corpse, 2012
Coming October, 2013
Jack Loves Callie Tender (prequel to the series, digital only)
Elvis and the Bridegroon Stiffs, Book Six of the Southern Cousins Mysteries
Novels written as Anna Michaels (available in hardcover and e-book)
The Tender Mercy of Roses ( Gallery, Simon & Schuster)
The Language of Silence (Gallery, Simon & Schuster, coming December of 2013)
Novels written as Elaine Hussey
The Sweetest Hallelujah (MIRA, July 30, 2013)