She’d been angry for years because Mrs. McIntyre hated her without reason. Now she wondered—was she any different? Darren’s mother hated the Tremaine family because her husband had taken up with Flo. Kate had hated the Winfields because John Winfield had strung her mother along for two decades.
Yes, she had reason to resent Angela because of Darren, and prom night. But, really, who the hell cared what had happened in high school, ten years ago? No, she and Angela would never be friends, but there wasn’t any reason they should be enemies, either. John Winfield was dead. His family wasn’t responsible for his sins…they didn’t even know about them! So what kind of hypocrite would she be to keep blaming them?
The thought rankled.
“And Jack.” She had no reason to dislike Jack. Yes, she’d been hurt when he hadn’t called her, but she sensed he was being truthful when he’d said he thought he had good reason.
She didn’t want to put herself at the same level as Mrs. McIntyre—an angry, bitter person who blamed the wrong people for hurting her. Had she become so focused on self-protection, on not letting herself be hurt or abused, that she’d also denied herself the chance to build genuine emotion with a man?
Maybe it was time to rethink a lot of things.
Kate was still mulling over the whole revenge plan when she arrived at Eileen Saginaw’s house that night. The older woman, who’d raised five kids and now had ten grandkids, gave Kate a hug and immediately asked her a bunch of questions about Edie.
“Last time we talked, she was determined to learn how to play golf so she could join a club in the retirement village,” Kate said, pleased at the fondness in the other woman’s voice.
Every woman at the party sounded just as regretful that Edie had left. There were no whispers here. No one acted as though some deep, dark scandal had forced Edie out. Not one person made Kate feel—in the three hours she stayed—the way the biddies in the Tea Room had made her feel in three minutes during her first visit back to town.
These were the real women of Pleasantville. And she was shockingly grateful she’d found them.
“Kate, I’m telling you, stop shaking the dice so much. That’s why you keep getting snake eyes,” Diane informed her as Kate prepared to take another turn late in the evening.
Kate blew an impatient, frustrated breath as she reached for her drink. Not bourbon—she didn’t do bourbon. But thankfully someone had brought beer. “How can it be called snake eyes when there are three dice?” she muttered as she lost yet again, with all ones. “Snakes have two eyes, not three.”
“Well, don’t forget, there are snakes with one,” Josie said with a suggestive wagging of her eyebrows.
When Kate gave her a confused look, Josie explained, using a bad Australian crocodile hunter accent. “I’m face-to-face with the deadly, one-eyed trouser snake, known to lead men into dark, dangerous places, and to enslave women with its potent power.”
After a five-second pause all twelve women seated at the three card tables in Eileen’s living room whooped with laughter.
It was, of course, inevitable that with each roll of the dice, the conversation degenerated into some outrageous sex talk. Kate figured it was standard operating procedure, given how freely the women spoke to one another, though, she had a really hard time picturing her mother here as part of it.
“You know, it’d almost be worth it to test that Viagra stuff, just to see if it’d be noticeable if I put it in Hank’s coffee every morning,” one woman introduced as Viv said.
“You mean, slip it to him, like a mickey? But how would you know if you gave him enough?” another asked.
Eileen reached for the dice. “Just keep pouring until the kitchen table starts rising off the floor right over his lap.”
Josie snickered. “Yeah, I can see you explaining it to the doctor when Hank has a heart attack ’cause all his blood’s trapped in his winky.”
“At least he’d die happy,” Diane pointed out.
“Please don’t tell me I have to wait till my husband’s a corpse before I can see him with a decent hard-on again.” Viv poured herself another drink.
When the laughter died down, Kate spoke up. “Have you tried seducing him? Letting him know you’re interested?”
Viv grunted. “Sure. Unfortunately, after he drinks the six-pack of Bud I’ve bought him to warm him up, he doesn’t notice I’ve shaved my legs and I’m not wearing my period underwear.”
Kate chuckled. “I mean it. Sexy lingerie, candles, scented massage oils. Then you tell him you’ve rented a special movie.”
“The only thing he likes is Arnold Schwarzenegger blowing up stuff. Which isn’t exactly my idea of romance.”
“I meant something a little more…titillating.”
“Oh, sure,” Viv said with a groan. “I’ll drive over to Emmitsburg to the Triple-X video store, fight off all the winos hanging around near the nickel booths, and rent some big-boobed-lesbians-in-love flick. Sounds like a real romantic evening.”
“I didn’t mean porn,” Kate explained patiently. “There are erotic videos made for women and couples.”
Hot sellers at Bare Essentials.
“Yeah, but I bet they don’t show penises, do they?” This from Josie who sounded indignant. “I mean, every erotic movie for couples I’ve seen—back when I lived in a town that had heard of such things—is camera-shy below the waist on the guy.”
Kate shrugged. “Is that so surprising? Isn’t the point to get your man worked up—not yourself? I don’t think many men are into seeing the competition, and women don’t need as much visual stimulation, which is why adult movies are geared toward men.”
The women all thought about it. Then Viv sighed again. “You may be right, Kate, and if this were Chicago, I’m sure I could stroll to the neighborhood store to stock up on erotic movies. But this sure ain’t Chicago.”
Her disappointed sigh was echoed by every woman in the room. Right then and there, Kate started wondering if maybe Jack had been right. Maybe, just maybe, opening a Bare Essentials right here in Pleasantville wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.
As the evening drew to a close, Kate found herself one of the last women there. She’d tried to leave earlier, but Eileen had put a quiet hand on her arm and asked her to stick around. Finally, after Diane and Josie exchanged hugs and one last round of man jokes, they said goodbye and left.
“Let me help you clean up,” Kate said, though the room wasn’t too bad. Part of the rules of Bunko night—hostess’s house didn’t get left in a shambles.
Kate helped Eileen take the tablecloths off the card tables and began to fold them. “I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed tonight. I appreciate all of you making me feel so welcome.”
Eileen gave her a sweet smile, which made her gray eyes twinkle. “Katey, I am so glad you’re here, even if you don’t plan to stay—and I guess you don’t.”
She shook her head.
“Anyway, I wish you’da come back sooner. Not that I’m criticizing. Three of my kids left, too. This town can be awfully hard on its residents sometimes.”
“Yeah.” She wondered if Eileen knew how hard. No, Eileen didn’t live on Lilac Hill, but she was married to a nice, well-liked gas station owner, and her beauty parlor, down in the basement, was a hot spot for most local women. So she probably hadn’t experienced the worst Pleasantville had to offer.
“I guess you know it was hard on your mom and that’s why she left. I wish she hadn’t, it wasn’t but a few nasty people.”
Kate laid the folded tablecloth on Eileen’s dining room table. “I’m sure you’re right.”
Eileen held her eye, gauging how much to say. Then, obviously seeing something in Kate’s expression, she said, “You know, don’t you. You know about Edie and John.”
Kate’s jaw dropped. “I’m surprised you do.”
“Oh, darlin’, your mom and I have been friends since eighth grade. I was there the first time she saw him, the first time he asked her out. Heck,
we double-dated to our senior prom.”
“Wait…you mean Mom dated John Winfield in high school?”
“Well, sure. Didn’t you know that? The two of them were quite the talk of the town in those days, what with your mom being a Tremaine and all. He didn’t care a bit. The two of them were crazy about each other.”
Shocked, Kate leaned against the table. “What happened?”
Eileen sighed. “They had a fight about something stupid. John went and did something even more stupid with Pat Pickering. She told him she was pregnant the day after graduation.”
Pregnant? With Jack? She quickly calculated—no, couldn’t be right, that would make Jack close to forty.
Eileen ushered her into the kitchen, putting on the kettle to make tea. “Edie found out, broke it off with John and left town. John married Pat. When there was no baby several months later, he came to me asking where Edie was. I told him the truth. She was happy with her new life in Florida. He stayed married to Pat and they made a go of it, I guess.”
“Years later, Dad died and Mom came back,” Kate whispered.
Eileen poured some tea, then sat. “First loves never die. John was so sad, trapped by Pat, his job, the town.” Eileen shrugged. “Edie made him happy…they made each other happy. But she would never have let him leave Pat and those children.”
A half hour later, after one of the most shocking and revealing conversations she’d ever experienced, Kate hugged Eileen goodbye and headed home. She wanted more than anything to call her mother, just to hear her voice. Edie seemed so different to her now, not a victim anymore, but a woman in love who did the best she could with what she was dealt.
Kate didn’t know whether to applaud her or to cry for her.
When she arrived home, she immediately looked toward Jack’s side of the duplex, to see if any lights were on. He’d told her he’d wait up, saying he wanted the full scoop on the Bunko orgy. Judging by all the lights, he’d kept his word.
She pulled into the driveway, surprised when she saw a rental car parked there. Unsure who would be visiting at this late hour, she walked up to the porch and glanced in the window.
When she saw the dark-haired person sitting on the couch, and realized who it was, she hurried into the house and launched herself into his arms.
11
IF JACK HADN’T ALREADY figured out that Kate’s business partner was gay, he might be feeling seriously concerned right now. The two of them hugged and chattered with the easy camaraderie of longtime companions. They acted as if they hadn’t seen each other in months, rather than a week.
“Armand, what are you doing here? I can’t believe you came all this way,” Kate said.
“I missed you. I had a fabulous new design I wanted to show you, and since we seem to have a decent staff for a change, I figured we could both be gone for a day or two.” Armand sat on the couch, pulling Kate down to sit beside him.
Jack, who’d taken a seat on the other side of the small living room, couldn’t help smiling at Kate’s obvious excitement.
He hadn’t quite known what to think when he’d seen this tall, dark-haired man knocking on Kate’s front door an hour ago. When Jack had stepped outside to see what he wanted, the other man had asked about Kate. Jack’s first instinct had been to tell the guy she’d left town and had left no forwarding address. Then, when he’d recognized the stranger as the one who’d been hugging Kate at her Chicago shop all those weeks ago, he’d invited him into his place to wait for her.
The first rule in any battle—know your competition.
He’d figured out the man’s sexual preference within five minutes. Not that Armand had tried anything—if he had, he sure as hell wouldn’t still be sitting in his living room, friend of Kate’s or no friend. No, what had tipped Jack off was Armand’s reaction upon learning his name.
He’d acted just like one of Kate’s gal pals.
“Oh, so you’re Jack.” He’d looked at Jack’s arms and hands, raised a falsely surprised brow and said, “Hmm, no broken arms or fingers, did your building simply lose phone service for a month? Is that why you never called her?”
Yep. Definitely gay.
Once they’d gotten past those first awkward minutes, with Armand trying to punish him for not calling Kate, and Jack trying to change the subject, they’d actually enjoyed an interesting hour of conversation. The guy had even brought a six-pack of beer, two-thirds of which they’d already killed off.
Armand was part of Kate’s other life. Her Chicago life. The life Jack fully intended to share when they both finished up what they had to do in Pleasantville and closed this door behind them. He wanted to see her through Armand’s eyes.
Most of what he learned did not surprise him.
She loved the theater and saw nearly every touring production that came through town. A given.
She hated snow. Unusual, considering her Chicago address. But she did like long walks on windy days.
She’d put herself through college at night while working any job she could get, not finishing up her bachelor’s degree until a few years ago. That reinforced what he already suspected—everything she had, she’d worked damn hard for. Nothing had been handed to her; she relied on her talent and her perseverance to succeed.
Her cousin Cassie had financed their Chicago shop, but, mostly due to Kate’s excellent management, Bare Essentials had already earned enough to pay off the loan.
One more intimate little detail Armand let drop—Kate hadn’t dated any man more than twice in over two years, and he doubted she’d slept with any either. Well, praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.
“So, how was Bunko night?” Jack asked when he could finally get a word in edgewise.
Kate grinned. “Wonderful. I loved it. And, I tell you, there might actually be a client base in this town for Bare Essentials.”
Armand raised a surprised brow. “Get out!”
She told them about her evening, then said, “I know a woman named Viv who would probably adore seeing your new designs.”
“It sounds like Tortureville hasn’t quite lived down to your expectations,” Armand said.
She didn’t answer for a moment, looking deep in thought. Something seemed different about Kate tonight. She looked less pensive, much more relaxed. Jack didn’t think it was only because of her friend’s visit. Nor did he think it was entirely because of what had happened between them last night.
And again this morning in her bedroom next door.
“I think we both had a few surprises from our returns to Pleasantville,” Jack murmured.
She looked up and met his eyes, a soft smile curling her lips. Next to her, Armand looked back and forth between the two of them. “Okay, it looks like somebody has forgiven somebody for his telephone-itis.”
“Not entirely forgiven,” Kate said.
Jack raised a questioning brow.
“But he’s getting closer.”
Seeing warmth in her gaze, Jack gave her a slow, steady look, telling her without words that he’d keep doing whatever he had to earn her forgiveness.
“I’m suddenly feeling very third wheel here. Kate, I do hope you have room for me to crash at your place, because I didn’t make a hotel reservation or anything.”
“I think the hotel in Pleasantville only rents by the hour anyway,” Kate said with a grin. “Of course you’ll stay with me. I don’t have an extra bed, or very much furniture at all. But I do have a sleeping bag.”
“You can stay here.” Jack’s tone allowed for no argument. “There’s an extra, fully furnished bedroom.” Two, really, since Jack fully intended to sleep in Kate’s bed, anyway.
“Wonderful, thank you.” Armand turned to Kate. “And tomorrow you take me downtown to show me the new store. Plus all the horrible places you remember from your teenage years. Your high school, the predictable barbershop, movie theater and fire station where they host pancake breakfasts. And you must introduce me to Viv. Does she have poufed-up blond hair, tacky pla
stic shoes and like to crack bubblegum?”
Shaking her head, Kate chuckled. “Nope. Sorry to disappoint you, she’s a pretty, forty-something housewife with an uninspired husband. I think you’ve been watching too many movies about small-town life.”
“I was raised in a town just like this, by my father the fire chief and my mother the former dairy princess.”
“Interesting background, considering your name,” Jack said.
“Arnold Dettinger didn’t work for me in Chicago,” Armand explained with a shrug. “And since I haven’t been home in twelve years, I’ll consider this my trial run. Who knows? If no one starts dragging out the tar and feathers, I might follow your lead and plan a trip back to Milltown for Christmas.”
Jack saw Kate squeeze her friend’s hand. “I’m sure your parents would like that.”
Armand gave a resigned shrug. “My mother, maybe. My father would be too busy ordering me not to embarrass him in front of the guys at the fire house to have time to be pleased.”
Jack cleared his throat. “He might surprise you.” Seeing Armand’s doubting expression, Jack continued. “I have to believe that deep down fathers always want their sons to come home. Just don’t wait until it’s too late to find out.”
* * *
LATER, with Armand settled into Kate’s mother’s old room, Jack followed Kate into the other duplex and up to her bedroom.
“So, you going to tell me the truth about the Bunko orgy?” he asked as she reached for the bottom of his shirt.
“You really want to hear?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well,” she said, her voice a sultry whisper. “All the women were blondes except me, and they all had really big breasts. When we got there, we all took off our shirts and compared.”
He snorted with laughter.
“Then, we squirted each other up with scented oils and gave each other massages, until we were just rolling around on the floor, one big mass of naked, squirming female bodies.”
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