Celebration

by Fern Michaels

  “Yes. Make sure you lower the gate when you leave.”

  “Then I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Take your time. I’ll be here.”

  Kristine watched as Pete hopped into his Ford Bronco. He tooted the horn, two snappy blasts of sound as he careened down the road to the highway.

  The old house was tomb-quiet as Kristine cuddled the two small dogs in her arms. Then it erupted with sound as hard, driving sobs tore at her body. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Gracie tried valiantly to lick at the salty tears as Slick tried to burrow deeper into the crook of her arm. She knew she was frightening the little animals, but it was the only way she knew to release the misery engulfing her.

  A long time later, when there were no more tears to shed, Kristine crooned to the tiny dogs in her lap as she stroked their silky fur. They slept, having weathered their mistress’s storm.

  Woodie suffered through the obligatory kiss on the cheek. How well he remembered the heady scent of his ex-wife’s perfume. If he remembered correctly, he was the one who gave her the sinful fragrance.

  “You look happy, Aaron.”

  “That’s because I am happy. It’s been a long road, Maureen. Are you sure now that you’re doing the right thing? You’ve only known the man a little less than two months. Is that enough time to get to know him and accept his proposal? On top of that, he’s old. Seventy-two is old, Maureen.”

  “I know,” Maureen said sweetly. “I rather thought you would be glad. No more alimony. I’ll be moving away. You won’t have to pretend you like me for other people’s benefit. Besides, he’s filthy rich.”

  “It always comes down to money with you, doesn’t it?”

  “You know what they say, darlin’, you can never be too thin or too rich. I love money. Actually, I adore money. He doesn’t even want a prenup. He’s my kind of guy. Did I tell you he has some serious ailments? He does. I promised to take care of him. By that I mean, I’ll oversee the help, you know, nurses, aides, that sort of thing. I’ll read to him, go for drives with him, we’ll have breakfast and dinner together. He doesn’t have high expectations where I’m concerned. In short, he can’t get it up, Aaron.”

  In spite of himself, Woodie laughed. “I guess you really did step into it. When are you leaving?”

  “Day after tomorrow. I just came by to close out my savings account. At the last minute I decided to leave twenty dollars in it. Who knows, I might come back here someday and need an active account. This way I won’t have to go through all that paperwork you insist on when someone opens a new account. If I don’t come back, the bank is twenty dollars richer.

  “It was nice of you to suggest lunch. Do you believe it? We’re actually being civil to one another. I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for you, sweetie.”

  “Exactly where are you going to be living?” Woodie asked.

  “For starters we’re going to Paris. Health permitting, we’ll travel all over the world. When you have unlimited wealth you can do things like that. Stedman has homes all over the world. I cannot believe how lucky I am. Just yesterday we were in New York shopping. I bought out the stores. Stedman has his own private jet. It was loaded when we came back last night. I bought six Channel bags, and he didn’t blink an eye. It is mind-boggling, darlin’. Will you listen to me go on and on. Tell me what’s going on with you.”

  “I’m leaving the bank at the end of the year.”

  “Are you going to live in that ghastly wooden house with all those windows?”

  “For the time being. I happen to love that ghastly wooden house with all those windows. I might even get married next year. Who knows, I might take the plunge over the holidays.”

  “Tell me all about her,” Maureen cooed.

  “Are those fingernails your own?” Woodie asked as he stared at the scarlet tips of his wife’s fingers. Kristine’s nails were short, clear and shiny.

  “Absolutely not. These eyelashes aren’t mine, either. Sweetie, Stedman paid through the nose for this costly makeover. I know you don’t know much about women, but once you hit forty, you start to droop. In all the wrong places. I’ve been nipped and tucked, sliced and diced from one end to the other. I could pass for twenty-nine instead of forty-one. Everyone says so. I don’t know why I’m bothering to tell you all this. What do you think, Aaron?”

  “Actually, Maureen, you look the same to me.”

  “You’re trying to sidetrack me. Tell me about your girlfriend. You must need glasses,” she sniffed.

  “Kristine is not a girl. She’s a woman. She moved back here three years ago and started to breed show dogs the way her parents did.”

  “Is she the one whose husband disappeared with all her money? Don’t look at me like that, Aaron. Everyone in town has heard that story. I also heard she was on the sauce for a while and that she bounced checks all over the place. It’s a small town, Aaron, where nothing happens. They love to chitter in the beauty shops. Is she the one?”

  “Don’t believe what you hear, Maureen. Those same people who chitter in the beauty shop chittered about you when you helped yourself to their money at the bank.”

  “Oh, phooey, Aaron. You made that all come out right. You never should have trusted me with the bank account. You know I have no head for numbers.”

  Woodie laughed again. “Does Stedman know how bad you are with money?”

  “Absolutely. He thought that bank business was hysterical. Be sure to send me a wedding invitation. Stedman loves it when I send presents to people and sign both our names. I really have to be going, Aaron. Thanks for lunch and, you know what, it’s nice to see you smile again. The first couple of weeks we were married were good, weren’t they?”

  “That’s because we never came out of the bedroom. Once we opened the door it was all over. Be happy, Maureen.”

  “You too, Aaron. What does she call you?”

  “Woodie.”

  “That’s such a bubba name. Oh, well, to each his own. Don’t forget to send me a wedding invitation. Who knows, we might even show up for the wedding.”

  “Please don’t. Kristine would never understand someone like you.”

  Maureen laughed, a musical sound that sent chills up and down Woodie’s arms as it wafted upward in the light summer breeze. He shivered even though the temperature was in the high eighties. He couldn’t help but wonder if what he was feeling was a harbinger of things to come.

  Finally, finally, after all this time, Maureen was out of his life. It was definitely a cause for celebration. He was going home to call Kristine to invite her to the house for a romantic dinner. What difference did it make who called whom? That was teenage thinking, and he was a far cry from being a teenager. When you loved someone the way he loved Kristine, little things like who was supposed to call who, didn’t matter.

  Kristine sat in the office behind the old, scarred desk that had belonged to her parents and probably their parents, the dogs napping at her feet. She was sipping coffee as she stared at the road. Did Woodie’s secretary call him to tell him she’d called? Would Woodie call in to check his messages? Who was the gorgeous blond woman in the designer suit? Chanel bags were expensive. While she might not own one, she knew what they cost. Of course there was the possibility it was a knockoff. The cut of the suit said it was pricey, so the bag had to be real. Like she cared. What she cared about was the ear-to-ear smile on Woodie’s face and the way he draped his arm around the woman’s shoulder. She sniffed again. Thirty if she was a day. Maybe twenty-eight. Young enough to be his daughter.

  The phone chose that moment to ring. Answer it or not? She was running a business; of course she had to answer it. On the other hand she could let the machine take the message. She debated so long the answering machine clicked on. She sucked her breath in one long swoosh when she heard Woodie’s voice.

  “Kristine, it’s Woodie.” Like she wouldn’t recognize his voice from miles away. “I’m calling to invite you for dinner. I guess you’re busy with the d
ogs. Give me a call. This is so silly. Does it really matter who calls whom? What really matters is, I miss you. As an added incentive, I’ve given my housekeeper the day off, so I’ll be the one doing the cooking. Everything will be ready by seven. I’ll see you then. I love you, Kristine.”

  “Sure you do,” Kristine muttered, her eyes filling with tears. What was it Cala would say? Did the blonde blow you off, and I’m your second choice? An empty house meant she was to stay the night. By now he probably knew she’d been to the bank. Like most men, he was simply covering his tracks. Maybe his afternoon tryst with the ravishing blonde didn’t work out. Well it wasn’t going to work out at seven o’clock, either.

  Kristine looked pointedly at the answering machine until her eyes started to water. Would Woodie come out to the farm? The guardrail fence that rose and lowered automatically was certainly no deterrent to anyone wanting to come to the house or barn. All one had to do was get out of the car and walk around the long mechanical bar. Woodie would do that and not care if his car blocked the road.

  How long could she avoid a confrontation with Woodie? A few days? Her nostrils quivered. She wanted a drink so bad she thought she could smell the earthy scent of grapes all about her. She clutched her hands into tight fists, banging them on top of the old desk. When the feeling stayed with her, she bent down to scoop up the two tiny dogs into her arms. She buried her face between the two of them, a long, tortured sigh escaping her lips. How strange that these two little animals could calm her better than a drink or a tranquilizer. “Let’s go up to the house and make something wonderful and decadent for dinner. Something that will make us feel guilty and take the edge off this pain I feel.” The tiny dogs yipped their delight at the word dinner. Kristine set them down and watched them streak toward the house. Her own steps were slow, her shoulders slumped. She thought she heard a car off in the distance. Three zippy notes of the horn made her pick up her feet and run the rest of the way to the house, where she slammed the kitchen door shut and locked it. She almost tripped over the dogs in her mad race to the front door to shove the holt home.

  Safe.

  From what?

  From Woodie? Her own emotions? Her own fear?

  The two dogs, confused with the mad dash to the front door, proceeded to chase each other in circles, nipping Kristine’s shoelaces at each frontal whirl. “Shhh,” she said, placing her finger against her lips. Slick growled. Gracie nipped his ear, then waited, her tiny pink tongue flapping in the air. “Shhh,” Kristine said a second time. This time, Slick obeyed and sat down next to Gracie. Both little dogs wore an expectant look as they waited for their next order.

  Kristine peeked out the front window. “It’s Pete and the reporter! There goes our wonderful, decadent dinner.”

  Kristine unlocked the kitchen door. “What are you doing back here?”

  Pete shrugged. “I was worried about you, so I came back. Besides, every girl I called turned me down. One does not call a girl at the last minute to ask her to dinner. It seems they have to do their hair, their nails, and a bunch of other stuff. What’s for dinner? I thought I might keep you company. Jack here was right behind me.”

  “Dinner was going to be something wonderful and decadent, but now it’s going to be tomato soup and grilled cheese. Would you like to join us, Jack?”

  “No thanks. I’d like to get to it if you don’t mind.”

  “You can use the kitchen stairway over there,” Kristine said, pointing to the far corner of the kitchen. “The attic steps are at the end of the long hall. The trunks you want are over this section of the house. There’s a wicker doll buggy by the alcove. The sun might be going down, but it’s still going to be hot up there. My advice would be to carry the things you need down here. Understand, Jack, nothing leaves this house. You can make all the notes you want. We have a copy machine in the office in the barn you can use. Are we clear on this?”

  “Crystal.”

  A moment later he was gone.

  “I don’t think I ever had that much energy. How does one get excited about all those musty old books?” Pete groused.

  “To each his own. There must have been one girl who was interested in dinner.”

  “Kristine, I do not have a little black book. I know three girls, young women, two of whom are sort of, kind of, you know, seeing someone. For some reason being a vet is not a turn-on for women. In case you haven’t noticed, I am not exactly Robert Redford. Everyone wants someone who looks like him.”

  “Do you ever get dressed up?” Kristine demanded.

  “For funerals and weddings. How about you?”

  “I used to. Logan always ... never mind. Clothes are not my top priority. Woodie called and left a message.”

  “And ...

  “And nothing. I listened to it. He invited me for dinner. Guess his little afternoon lark didn’t pan out.”

  “You are jaded, Kristine. I’m telling you, it was business, and now you’ve boxed yourself into a corner. Go pick some of those daisies by the front door and go over there for dinner. Put some perfume on so you don’t smell like the dogs.”

  “I’m not doing any such thing. I know what I saw. I know a little bit about men.”

  “Get off it, Kristine. You know as much about men as I know about women. That’s as in zip, nada, nothing. If either one of us knew anything about the opposite sex, we wouldn’t be sitting here with two dogs eating tomato soup and grilled cheese.”

  “You would be perfect for my daughter Cala.”

  “I think so myself,” Pete said, slapping a slice of cheese between two pieces of bread. “So when do I get to meet her?”

  Kristine shrugged. “She’s dating some guy named Tom. That’s all I know. I’m hoping they come home for Christmas. She loves animals. All the kids love animals. Logan would never allow us to have a dog or a cat.”

  “I can’t imagine a life without animals in it,” Pete said. “Do you want milk or water in the tomato soup? Milk is better.”

  “Then go with the milk.”

  “Didn’t you invite me for dinner? Why am I making it?”

  “Because you were hungry and couldn’t wait for me to start.”

  “Kristine, did I ever thank you for allowing me to stay in the apartment over the garage?”

  Kristine smiled. “At least a hundred times.”

  “By not having to pay rent, I saved almost enough for a new car. I’m glad we became such good friends.”

  “You’re a good vet, Pete. I’m lucky you stuck with me that first year. If things keep going as well as they’re going now, I was thinking of asking you if you would be interested in a partnership.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I’m serious. The business is growing. We’re actually making money. That mass mailing we sent out last year to my parents’ old client list paid off. Children and grandchildren are calling for our dogs. This business had a wonderful reputation when my parents were alive. I think between the two of us we can bring it up to speed.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Kristine. Of course I accept. Jeez, I burned the sandwiches.”

  “So make new ones. There’s lots of cheese.”

  “I have a better idea. Let’s get dressed and go out dining and dancing. My treat. Have you ever been to Jezebel’s?”

  “No, but I heard about it. Isn’t it kind of pricey?”

  “Yeah. I heard the food is decadent. Their dance floor is big enough for two couples. C’mon, Kristine, let’s do it!”

  Never spontaneous by nature, Kristine said, “Yes, let’s do it. I have to change. Do we need reservations?”

  “Probably. I’ll call from the barn. Is it okay to leave that guy here? You said you didn’t want him taking stuff away from the house.”

  “We’ll simply take the distributor cap off his car. He won’t be able to go anywhere. We’ll replace it when we get home. He’ll never know the difference. If you don’t know how to do it, I do. Tyler was showing Mike how to do it one time, and I wat
ched.”

  “You never cease to amaze me, Kristine Kelly.”

  “I’m thinking of taking my maiden name back. Moving forward, not looking back, that sort of thing.”

  “If that’s what you need to do, then you should do it. What about Gracie and Slick?”

  “I’ll put them in my bedroom. They’ll be fine. I’ll be ready in half an hour.”

  “I’ll be ready in ten minutes. I’ll be the guy in the suit.”

  “I think I’ll recognize you.”

  Kristine almost jumped out of her skin when the phone rang behind her. “Don’t answer that, Pete. I’m not expecting any calls. The machine will pick up.”

  “Whatever you say.” Pete said, closing the door behind him.

  Kristine stared into her closet. What should she wear? It had been so long since she bought any clothes. Everything she had was out of style. Still, European fashions were light-years ahead of the United States in her opinion. Maybe she could squeak by with her tangerine-silk dress. If she piled her hair on top of her head and wore her mother’s pearls, she would be okay. She’d only worn the outfit once in Paris when Logan had taken her there for a birthday celebration. Her birthdays usually went unnoticed. Somewhere in one of her drawers there were matching shoes wrapped in tissue along with a small clutch bag with a seeded-pearl clasp. Woodie would appreciate the outfit. She wasn’t sure about Pete. Sweet, wonderful Pete with the ear-to-ear grin. He really cared about her the way a good friend was supposed to care about a friend. The same way she cared about him.

  The tangerine silk slithered over her body. Her summer tan, while not dark, made the pearls at her throat glow. At the last second, she added a pearl comb to her upswept hairdo. Two quick spritzes of her favorite perfume and she was ready to dine and dance the night away. Her eyes filled. She blinked away the tears.

  Kristine walked to the foot of the attic stairs. “Jack, can you come here a minute.”

  Overhead, the boards creaked as the reporter made his way to the top of the steps. “I’m going out for a while. Are you all right? Aren’t you going to carry the books downstairs?”