A Double Wedding

by Patricia Knoll

  The next morning, Silvey staggered out of bed and into the shower.

  Functioning by feel alone, she washed her hair, then let the water pound down on her scalp. Worry about her grandmother's involvement with Lawrence Wisdom and about the rightness of accepting the loan from him had kept her awake.

  After she was showered and dressed, she headed to the kitchen where she made toast and coffee, retrieved the newspaper from the front walk, and glanced at the headlines as she ate. With a sigh, she folded the paper and set it aside. Nothing in the national news seemed as exciting as having a grandmother who was dating an actor with a quintet of ex-wives.

  She heard the doorbell, then her grandmother's voice. A minute later the kitchen door opened and Leila strolled in, followed by Lawrence. She was smartly dressed in pleated red slacks and a white, military-style blouse. Lawrence's navy blue cotton shirt and white slacks made him look as if he had just stepped off the cover of a men's fashion magazine.

  Why didn't the man look his age? Silvey wondered in awe. Or at least show signs of a dissipated life?

  With a flush of guilt, she shook off the thought, reminding herself not to be judgmental. She wanted to be open-minded about this new relationship of her grandmother's. She flashed Lawrence a cautious smile and the wary look in his eyes disappeared. "Good morning."

  "Good morning," he boomed in his rich baritone. "I invited myself to breakfast."

  Leila blessed them both with a delighted smile and immediately began rummaging in the refrigerator. Lawrence wanted bacon and eggs, but Leila gave him an appalled look. "Don't be ridiculous. A man of your age doesn't need all that cholesterol. Sit down. You're having melon and whole grain cereal with skim milk."

  Silvey watched in amazement when he shrugged good-naturedly, sat down, and picked up the paper. She stared from one to the other of them, stunned. Not only was one of the world's greatest living actors sitting at their kitchen table, but he was meekly taking orders from her grandmother. Silvey put her hand to her chest. If she wasn't careful, she would hyperventilate. This was more than any normal woman should be expected to stand! She took a deep breath and then a sip of coffee.

  After she recovered from her initial shock, Silvey began noticing how sweet the two of them were together. They talked and argued over the day's headlines as they ate cool green slices of honeydew melon, then kissed and made up over the cereal. It occurred to her that her grandmother could be very good for this man. She didn't kowtow or simper. She was a mature woman with definite ideas of her own.

  Busy with her own thoughts, she didn't snap to attention until she heard Dan's name mentioned.

  "The boy won't listen to me," Lawrence was saying as he sipped his coffee. "I keep telling him that nobody's going to take advantage of me, least of all you, but he insists I don't know what's good for me."

  Silvey tapped her fingernails on the tabletop, thinking resentfully of his overbearing son.

  "He's probably in shock," Leila soothed. "Give him time."

  "I don't have time. I want to get things smoothed over with him before I go back to Los Angeles next month. I'll need all my concentration for a damned difficult part in that new miniseries.

  Besides, life is too short to spend it at odds with my only flesh and blood. I made enough of a hash of his life when he was young. We were estranged for years. I can't let it happen again."

  Leila nodded sympathetically. "I would try to talk to him, but he certainly wouldn't listen to me."

  The two of them fell silent and Silvey took the opportunity to introduce a topic of her own. "Mr. Wisdom, Lawrence ... sir. About that loan...?"

  He brightened immediately and his big hand came across the table to squeeze her forearm warmly. "You don't have to thank me. I was glad to do it. Gives me pleasure to do something with my money besides send it to ex-wives who use it to buy the skins of endangered animals." His eyes glimmered. "I want to do this for Leila. She's concerned about your future, your security."

  Dismayed, Silvey looked from one to the other. If he was conning her, he was doing a great job of it. How could she refuse the loan? It meant so much to Grandma. "But your son seems so...."

  "He loves me, though God knows I don't deserve it." Lawrence's craggy face eased into a smile. "Last year after my divorce, when I moved here, I was an emotional wreck." He cast a quick glance at Leila, who was smiling sympathetically. "Dan picked up the pieces and we became close, finally. I was wrong in not telling him about meeting Leila, but he was away and I knew he would be afraid I was getting myself into trouble."

  No kidding, Silvey thought, propping her chin on her palm. "Pie's angry now, as he has a right to be-and worried, but I don't seem to be able to find the words to ease his mind."

  Engrossed in her own thoughts about Dan, it took Silvey a minute to realize the two of them had fallen silent and were staring at her expectantly. Wary brown eyes flew from one to the other of them.

  "What are you two thinking?"

  Lawrence answered suavely, "That you're young, lovely...."

  "And a perfect sacrificial lamb," she finished for him. "Oh, no... no. Just get that idea right out of your heads." She lifted her hands defensively.

  "They stopped throwing young women into erupting volcanoes years ago."

  "He might listen to you," Leila argued.

  "Me? He hates me. He called me a...well, never mind what he called me," she muttered. "He won't listen to me."

  "Please, honey. Try. Do it for me."

  Dismayed, Silvey met Leila's pleading eyes. She knew her grandmother would have done anything for her. After a moment, she gulped. "All right. I'll try." They beamed at her with gratitude and approval, but she had a feeling she knew just how the biblical Daniel had felt when entering the lion's den.

  Silvey thanked the student who had directed her to Dan's office and started down the hallway of the Sonora College office building. All the way over, she had worked on her little speech. For once, she was going to be ruled by her head rather than her heart.

  She was going to be calm and reasonable when she talked to Dan.

  On the drive over, she thought about what kind of man he was, protective, certainly, at least of his father. Direct. She'd had no doubt about what he thought of her and her grandmother. Although what he'd said still stung, she was trying to put it in perspective.

  Someone was coming down the hall, and for a moment, she thought it was Dan. When he drew closer, she saw that it was a man with a slight build and dark, Latin eyes.

  She looked, blinked, and stopped in her tracks. "John! John Ramos!"

  He stopped, gazing with a perplexed frown at the woman whose face was wreathed in smiles. Frowning, he studied her features.

  Her smile was growing impatiently expectant when light dawned in his eyes. "Silvey! What are you doing here?" He swooped forward and gathered her into his arms for a bear hug. "I haven't seen you since high school."

  Happily, Silvey linked her hands with his and ran through a description of all that had happened to her. "And now I'm buying my own business," she concluded breathlessly. "What about you?"

  John grinned. "You always could fit more words into a shorter space of time than anyone I ever knew. What have I been doing? Teaching high school history. Now I'm getting my doctorate here and working as a teaching assistant."

  "Are you married?"

  His handsome features creased in a grimace. "Married and divorced. Twice."

  "Good grief, and you're not even thirty. You're going to wear yourself out!"

  "Silvey, the amount of money I pay in support to my former spouses will wear me out long before any woman does. Besides, it's your fault, you know. I never recovered after you turned me down for the senior prom."

  She waved that away. "Excuses, excuses. The truth was, I knew all about your reputation with girls."

  "Oh, what was that?"

  "That you had more hands than a battleship."

  The two of them laughed together and John reached out to
give her another hug. Caught off balance, Silvey turned her head away and came face to face with Dan Wisdom.

  Her breath seesawed in and her eyes widened. She had completely forgotten about him. "Oh," she said weakly. "Hello."

  "Am I interrupting something?" he asked in a cool tone. He let his gaze drift down to where John's arm clasped Silvey's waist, then back up to her reddening face.

  She twisted out of John's arms, then berated herself for reacting so defensively. John, still grinning, let her go.

  "Hi, Dan. Didn't know anyone was still around," he said. "Sorry if we disturbed you."

  Silvey said, "I'm here to see Dr., uh ... Dan."

  John looked at Dan's less-than-welcoming expression. "Oh, I see."

  His friendliness faded as he gave Silvey a quick, assessing glance and stepped back. "Well, I won't keep you. Hey, Silvey, I'll give you a call, hmm?"

  "Sure, John," she answered weakly as he walked away.

  "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?" Dan observed.

  She lifted her chin and her full mouth pinched into a tight line. "I beg your pardon?"

  "Like grandmother, like granddaughter. Do you chase every man you meet?"

  Anger spurted up, making her almost incoherent with rage. "John Ramos is an old high school friend of mine. We were gymnasts together. We... we had routines ... and..."

  "Yeah, I just saw one of your routines." He turned and started down the hallway. "If you're here to see me, come into my office."

  He seemed to expect her to follow like a faithful pup. She crossed her arms over her chest and stood as if her shoes were glued to the carpet.

  When he realized she wasn't following, he paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Something wrong?"

  "You're wrong, Dr. Wisdom," she said, advancing on him. "I came here to reason with you. I didn't come to be insulted."

  At first, Dan's expression didn't change as he gauged the determination in her face. He inclined his head as if he was giving in to her, though they both knew he was doing no such thing. "I apologize. Now can we conduct our business in my office?" He indicated a door.

  Mollified, if not satisfied, Silvey graced him with a regal nod. "All right." It would take an effort, but she was woman enough to ignore his nasty personality and control her temper. She gave him a sideways glance, wishing hypocritically that he had inherited some of his father's charm.

  She preceded him into his office with the irritated thought that today he looked like her idea of a college professor. She had never been to college, so she realized her expectations of how they dressed probably had no basis in reality, but she admitted that he looked respectable. He was wearing khaki slacks, a white shirt, a dark tie of muted design, and a summer jacket of lightweight fabric.

  His change in clothing made her look at him as a person rather than an irritation. She glanced around with interest because she loved to see the kinds of things with which people surrounded themselves. It gave her insight into their personalities. From what she'd seen of Dan's personality so far, she could use some insight.

  Inside, she scanned the walls decorated with carefully framed diplomas and photographs. One wall held a bookcase full of volumes.

  A familiar cover caught her eye and she smiled. She reached over to pull the volume from the bookcase, thrilled that here was something the two of them could talk about without arguing. "Oh, you like D.K.

  Wilinson's books? I do, too, though I wasn't sure about the first one."

  She looked up with a small laugh. "I mean, really, a murder mystery set in pre-Colombian America? Who would have guessed it would be so exciting? The plot was especially surprising since the mystery was set in a society that practiced human sacrifice. The whole explanation for that and how it was different in their minds from actual murder was fascinating, but horrifying...."

  She glanced up and her impulsive words skipped to a stop. His face was watchful, his head tilted as if he was listening carefully.

  Silvey gave him a faint smile. "Sorry, I get a little carried away." She flipped the book's dust jacket open and went very still as she gazed at the solemn face of the author on the inside photograph.

  "You're him," she said, her heart sinking as she stared at the photograph, then at him. "Wilinson is your pen name."

  He nodded. "That's right, although I don't publicize it much."

  "Why not?" Silvey replaced the volume. "This was on the bestseller list for weeks. I'd think you'd be proud of that."

  "I am proud of it, of all my books, but I'm not interested in publicity.

  The money comes in handy. It goes to pay for my archaeological interests." He indicated the area behind her.

  Silvey turned and her mouth dropped open.

  From floor to ceiling, glass cases were filled with pottery, baskets, and artifacts. Her eyes darted over rare kachina dolls that represented Hopi gods, Hohokam and Anasazi pottery that might have been a thousand years old, metates used for grinding corn, and a dozen other items that could have come from only one source-Native American graves.

  She whirled on him, her eyes full of accusation, her small chin as belligerent as a warrior's spear. "Just what kind of doctor are you?"

  He drew back, frowning. "Cultural anthropology. Why?"

  "Why the artifacts?"

  "As I said, archaeology is an interest of mine, too. It's the same idea as anthropology except that the people are no longer around to give a verbal record."

  "And Sonora College just happens to be trying to get government permission to excavate the ancient burial grounds of the Moreno Indians, right? You wouldn't be the one petitioning, would you?"

  He nodded slowly, his eyes touching on the color pinkening the tip of her nose. "That bothers you?"

  "Yes, it does. In my opinion, you're nothing but a glorified grave robber."

  CHAPTER THREE

  DAN'S chin drew back and his eyes glittered at her. "Don't tell me you're one of those people who think the past should stay buried?

  That we shouldn't try to learn from it?"

  "I think my ancestors should stay buried. They have a right to rest in peace on their sacred mountain."

  "Your ancestors?"

  "That's right. My grandfather was descended from the Moreno Indians."

  "Then you should want your children to know about the people from whom they're descended."

  "I don't have any children."

  "Yet." He folded his arms triumphantly.

  Silvey did the same, matching him stance for stance, glare for glare.

  "There are federal laws prohibiting such excavations," she noted, anger flushing her cheeks with color.

  "If the site is threatened by environmental damage or possible theft...."

  "Isn't that what we're talking about here?" Silvey interrupted sweetly, but he ignored her and went on.

  "Permission can be granted to excavate." "You have no right to dig people up, destroying what was precious to a tribe."

  "It's an extinct tribe," he countered, his blue eyes bright and steady.

  "Yes, the tribe has long since melted into others, but there are people, like me, who don't want the tribe's memories desecrated."

  Leila and her feisty friends, to name a few. They had recently discovered the plan to excavate the ancient site, and Silvey stood firmly with them against it. She decided instantly that she wouldn't tell Leila that Lawrence's son was in charge of the desecration. Of course, Leila might already know and hadn't mentioned it, not wanting to spoil her budding romance with Lawrence.

  Leila. Lawrence.

  With a sinking heart, she realized she had just antagonized the person she was supposed to be sweet talking. Her mind scrambled for a way out of this argument, but Dan had the bit between his teeth and was forging ahead.

  The clean angles of his face worked as he talked. "Would you rather have real grave-robbers up there? The only reason the site on Branaman Mountain has been safe so far is because the government has had a missile tracki
ng station in the foothills. With military personnel crawling all over, there hasn't been much danger of thieves."

  She gave him an evasive look. Darn it, why hadn't she stopped to think before she spoke? The last thing she needed was to antagonize the man further. "Well, now, I don't know...."

  That was all he needed to be off and running again. "That's just the point. You don't know if anything has been disturbed. You'll never fully know until it's excavated, carefully studied. My team and I are the ones to do the job." He dragged a hand through his hair and glared at her in frustration.

  She licked dry lips that felt as if she had powdered them with sandpaper. "Well, that's all very interesting, but it's not why I'm here."

  He stared. "You brought it up!"

  She answered with a sickly smile, but didn't reply.

  A sigh gusted from between his tight lips. "All right. Why are you here, if not to be a soapbox sermonizer?"

  "Mind if I sit down?" she asked, forming a conciliatory smile.

  He stared at her for several seconds. The need to make his point warred with curiosity.

  "Be my guest," he finally muttered, indicating the chair opposite his desk. He perched on the corner of the desk itself.

  She sat and clasped her hands together in her lap, then consciously relaxed them. "The truth is, I came to say you were right. The money to buy my shop did come from your father." He stirred, but she held up her hands. "It's not what you think, though. It's merely a loan. We intend to sign a legally binding agreement detailing the exact terms of repayment." They hadn't actually talked about that yet, but it sounded good. "I'm a good manager, a good salesperson.

  I can make a success of the yogurt shop."

  "You seem very sure of yourself."

  "I am." Conviction rang in her voice.

  His head tilted. "Tell me about your plans." Silvey tried to relax in her chair. This was going better than she had expected, considering her opening gaffe. She launched into an account of past and projected sales, her experience and employees. Enthusiasm laced every word.