by Janet Dailey
Maggie picked up her glass, glad to have something to do with her hands to hide her apprehension about this conversation.
"I'm sorry if I interrupted anything," he offered.
"No, you're not," she retorted. "If you were, you would have suggested that we talk another time and left." But she didn't confirm or deny his suspicions about the scene he had interrupted.
"What I came to discuss with you is important. I didn't think it was wise to put it off." Wade didn't defend his insincere apology.
"I'm sure it's important by your standards, but I might not think so."
"It's about Mike, and unless I'm greatly mistaken, he's always important to you."
It was almost a challenge.
The subject concerned Mike again, Maggie thought, the same as the last time. She didn't like the sound of it any more than the portentous feelings that made her so uneasy.
"Yes, Mike is important," she agreed warily. "What about him?"
"He hasn't met Belinda yet. Naturally she's very anxious to meet him," he said.
"Naturally."
Her voice was dry, tinged with cynicism, and it drew her a sharp look from Wade.
"I want to arrange something for this weekend."
"Fine," Maggie nodded. "Feel free to have Mike whichever day suits you best. You know I'm not going to make any objections."
"It isn't as simple as that." Wade sighed heavily in exasperation.
"Isn't it?" Mockery twisted her mouth.
"No. I want Mike to be on familiar ground when he meets her. I think it's going to be difficult enough for him without it occurring on alien ground."
"It won't be easy for Belinda, either," Maggie reminded him, not liking the direction his comments were pointing.
"She's an adult, more capable of handling a difficult situation than Mike is. It's more important for the boy to feel as comfortable as possible." He pushed aside her puny obstacle.
"What is your solution?" she challenged. "I'm sure you've already thought of one."
Wade breathed out a silent laugh, his mouth quirking cynically.
"Why do I have the feeling that the minute I answer that question this kitchen is going to turn into a battlefield?"
"Maybe because you already know I'm not going to like it."
Her nerves were tensing her fingers tightening their grip on the moist glass, its coolness matching the temperature of her blood.
Wade held her gaze, refusing to let her look away.
"I want to bring Belinda over here to meet Mike. He would be here, in his own home, where he would be comfortable and relatively relaxed, and it would give you an opportunity to meet her at the same time. Your presence would also ease some of the pressure Mike might feel."
She didn't want that woman in her home. "You can't be serious?"
"I'm very serious."
"I can see it now, the four of us sitting around with our hands in our laps staring at each other." Maggie laughed aloud at the thought, but she didn't think it was funny, only preposterous.
"Granted, it may he awkward. It's bound to be no matter when or where it takes place," he argued, then suggested, "perhaps it would be better if we came for dinner."
"Dinner!"
"We could come in time to have a drink before we sit down to the table. There wouldn't be time for a lot of awkward silences before there'd be the distraction of the meal. Coffee afterward and then we'd leave."
"No!"
"Why?" Wade countered.
"Because …"
Maggie sputtered helplessly, unable to think of an adequate reason.
"Mike has to meet her sooner or later. Why not when you're with him to lend moral support?" Wade drove home the logic of his suggestion.
But there was no one around to give her moral support, she argued silently. She sought refuge behind a weak protest.
"Mike has to meet her, but I don't!"
"Do you mean you would leave him in the care of a total stranger? Because that is exactly what you would be doing. Belinda is going to be my wife. When Mike visits me, he'll also be visiting her. Are you seriously trying to tell me you don't want to meet the woman who's going to be your son's stepmother, who'll take care of him when he's with me? I don't believe that, not for a minute."
Maggie turned away, because everything Wade had said was true.
For Mike's sake, she had to meet Wade's fiancée in order to have peace in her own mind when Mike visited Wade.
She was trapped in a corner and she resented Wade for maneuvering her there.
"Which night would you and your darling Belinda like to come for dinner?"
Cloying sarcasm rolled from her tongue, the only weapon she had left in her arsenal.
"Friday will be fine." His response was tautly controlled.
"What time?"
"Seven. There's no need to plan anything elaborate," he added.
"In other words, you don't want me to use our wedding china and crystal?" she asked sweetly.
"That attitude isn't going to make it easier," he warned.
"Easier? What do you know about making something easier?"
Her temper flared. "The only one who's finding any of this easy is you! It's going to be difficult for Mike, Belinda and myself. All you have to do is just sit back and wait for us to adjust!"
"What would you like me to do? Break the engagement?"
His look was cold, a dark brow arched in threatening challenge.
Yes! Instead Maggie cried, "No! I want you to stop telling me what my attitude should be!"
"For crissakes, I'm not telling you anything!" Wade snapped. "If you agree to my suggestion and want Belinda to dinner on Friday, then say so!"
"I do," she replied just as angrily.
"Good!"
In the next second Wade was slamming out the side door and Maggie was alone in the kitchen.
There was nothing to vent her anger on. It turned inward onto herself. What had she baited him? What had she been trying to prove? That she was the shrew he had called her once? Why hadn't she been gracious about having Belinda to dinner? Because it hurt. The pain was agonizing.
Tension throbbed in her temples and she pressed her fingers to them, their tips cool from holding the icy glass. The cool pressure brought temporary relief, but it came pounding back when she took her hands away. The side door opened and her head jerked up as she tried to regroup her defenses to face Wade. It was Mike who dashed in.
"Hi, mom. Dad said I was to come in and tell you I was going with him. I'll be home by five." He started back out, then paused. "Okay?"
"Yes, it's okay." She nodded with a stiff smile.
"Bye!"
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Chapter Twelve
MAGGIE GLANCED through the glass door of the oven to check the roast, something she had done half a dozen times in the last hour.
At the same time she checked her dim reflection in the door, an unconscious gesture to be sure her makeup didn't need retouching.
She rubbed her palms together, surprised to find them perspiring. She wiped them dry by smoothing the long black skirt over her hips.
She was nervous, her throat dry, her stomach churning. She felt like the harried image of a wife about to entertain her husband's boss — and the thought made her laugh aloud.
Mike walked into the kitchen. "What's so funny, mom?"
He wore a clean white shirt and dark blue pants. His face was scrubbed so clean that it practically shone.
"Nothing." She didn't attempt to explain the piece of irony that she had found amusing. Wade's boss was also his future father-in-law. Instead of his boss, she was about to entertain his future bride. The whole thing seemed ludicrous.
The doorbell rang. But for once Mike didn't race to answer it.
He gave her a sideways glance, and his dark eyes were filled with many of the apprehensions Maggie felt. She held out her hand to him.
"Come on, let's go and answer the door."
"
I know I have to meet her," he mumbled, and moved reluctantly to walk with her, "but I wish she wasn't staying for dinner."
There wasn't any response she could make to that, so she just smiled her understanding. "Don't you feel kinda funny about meeting her?" Mike asked as they neared the front door. "I mean, because she's going to marry dad?"
"Yes, I do feel kinda funny," Maggie admitted, and that was putting it mildly.
They shared a quick smile before Maggie opened the door. She saw Wade first, standing tall and dark, dressed in a dark suit and tie, so casually elegant, and her pulse rocketed.
There was a breathless tightness in her chest. The two combined to make her feel weak at the knees.
"Hello, Maggie."
The gentle warmth in his gaze seemed to set her aglow.
"Hello, Wade." She returned the greeting with a slow smile.
Suddenly she realized this was the way she had visualized their first meeting, not the horrendous episode with hair curlers and old robe that had occurred. This was how she had imagined it — seeing each other and having the bitterness of their divorce fade under the mounting pleasure the reunion brought.
There was a movement by his side that compelled her attention, and her gaze focused on a stunningly attractive blonde.
Belinda Hale was exactly as Maggie had pictured her to be, tall and willowy, her fairness a perfect complement to Wade's darkness.
Her hair was an unusual, and natural, shade of creamy toast, worn long and caught in a clasp at the back of her neck.
Every elegant bone reeked of smooth sophistication and poise. Her eyes were as blue as a clear Seattle sky, their color accentuated by the dress she wore in a subtle blue print.
There was only one thing about her that Maggie had not guessed — her age. Woman seemed a premature term. At the very most, Maggie suspected Belinda might be twenty-two.
It had never occurred to her that Wade might choose someone so much younger than himself for his future bride.
It was more disbelief than shock that kept her silent.
Belinda Hale had no such difficulty finding her voice. "Maggie, I've been looking forward to meeting you," she declared with husky sincerity and offered her hand.
Maggie managed the handshake. "How do you do, Miss Hale."
She knew she would never he able to carry off a first-name greeting, so she didn't try. In comparison to Belinda's friendliness, she knew she sounded stiff and polite. "Won't you come in?"
Moving out of the doorway, she nearly stepped into Mike, who had managed to stay well in the background and silently observe his future stepmother. Now it was his turn to be thrust into the limelight.
"You have to be Michael," Belinda deduced. "What does everyone call you? Mike or Mickey?"
He cringed at "Mickey" and quickly told her it was Mike.
Then he copied Maggie and greeted her. "How do you do, Miss Hale."
"Please call me Belinda."
She shook hands with him while Wade looked on. "You look so much like your father, Mike, I think I would have recognized you anywhere." Her gaze swung adoringly to Wade. "He's a handsome boy. No wonder you're so proud of him."
Mike shifted uncomfortably at this praise from a stranger. Maggie tried to rescue him and wondered why Wade hadn't. Was he going to leave all the conversation up to the three of them?
Of course, Belinda seemed to have enough poise to overcome any awkward silence.
"Please come into the living room and sit down." She moved toward the collection of sofas and chairs. "What can I get you to drink?" She threw a dagger at Wade for his silence. "You still drink Scotch and water, don't you?"
"Yes."
He inclined his head in agreement, nonplussed by her irritation.
"And you, Miss Hale?" Maggie inquired, and was stunned to hear herself add, "Mike is having a Coke. Would you like the same?" as if Belinda weren't old enough to drink.
The blonde seemed to miss the subtle insult, although Wade hadn't. His gaze narrowed dangerously, and Maggie knew it was a remark he wouldn't soon forget.
She bit down on her tongue and hoped she could control it.
"A glass of white wine would be nice, if you have it," Belinda answered.
"Of course."
This time Maggie was properly demure and didn't attach anything to her reply. "Make yourself at home. I'll be back in a moment."
As she started for the kitchen, Wade separated himself from Belinda's side.
"I'll help you. Mike can entertain Belinda for a few minutes."
Startled by his unexpected offer of assistance, Maggie stopped. Mike cast her a beseeching look, partly accusing her of deserting him in the face of the enemy.
But before Maggie could attempt to help him, Wade's hand was on her elbow, propelling her toward the kitchen. She didn't attempt to twist out of his hold until the door was swinging shut behind them and they were out of view.
"You left her slightly in the lurch out there," she accused.
"I think Belinda and Mike can survive for a few minutes on their own." He knew her concern wasn't for his fiancée.
Irritated, Maggie walked to the cupboard for the glasses. "The Scotch is —"
"I know where the Scotch is," he interrupted.
Pink warmed her cheeks as she remembered it hadn't been very many days ago that he had drunk from the bottle.
She walked to the refrigerator and took out the chilling wine, as well as a Coke for Mike. Wade followed to get ice from the freezer compartment.
"Well?"
The cubes made a clinking sound as he dropped them in his glass.
"Well, what?" she retorted.
"Out with it."
"With what?" Maggie continued to be deliberately obtuse.
"It's tripping all over the tip of your tongue. You might as well say it and get it out of your system." Wade poured a shot of Scotch over the ice cubes while Maggie filled the wineglasses.
She debated silently with herself, then finally abandoned her pretended ignorance.
"When you were listing all of Belinda's virtues, you didn't mention her youth."
"She'll be twenty-two next month. It doesn't classify her as being fresh from the crib."
"But you have to admit, Wade, that Mike is closer to her age than you are."
It sounded so catty that Maggie wished she hadn't said it.
"It might make it easier for her to relate to him, and vice versa. Is her age the only objection you have to her?" he questioned.
"It wasn't an objection." She rushed to correct that assumption. "It just took me by surprise to discover she was so young. I expected her to be older, more mature. It didn't occur to me you would be attracted to a … woman so young."
"Why not? You were younger than Belinda is when we were married."
Her fingers trembled as she recorked the wine bottle. She didn't want to be reminded of their marriage, since it also reminded her of their regrettable divorce. Without responding to his comment, she returned the wine bottle to the refrigerator, conscious of his hooded gaze watching her.
"In many ways Belinda is more mature than you are. Her head is squarely on her shoulders. She's practical and logical in her relationships with other people. I suppose you could describe her as sensible," he concluded.
"How very dull," was Maggie's first reaction, and naturally she said it.
"After our tumultuous years, I think it will be a refreshing change of pace to be married to Belinda." His retort was quick and intended to cut.
"I hope the two of you will be very comfortable together."
She arranged the glasses on a serving way. "Now, Belinda may not need rescuing, but I think Mike does. Shall we go back to the living room?"
"After you. And, Maggie —" the hard line of his mouth was tempered by forced patience "— try to hold your tongue."
"I do try, Wade. Believe me, I do," she said, taking a deep breath and picking up the tray.
Maggie had expected their return would be met
with a searching look. In Belinda's place, she would have been curious and a little jealous to have Wade alone in the kitchen with his ex-wife. But there wasn't a trace of either emotion in the blonde's smiling look. Belinda was either very understanding or very confident that Wade loved only her.
"I hope we didn't take too long." Maggie felt their return demanded some remark from her as hostess, then immediately realized the words she had chosen might intimate that they had been doing more in the kitchen than fixing the drinks.
And after she had just promised Wade she would watch what she said!
She felt doomed.
"Not at all." Belinda seemed indifferent to their absence. She smiled at Wade as he sat on the sofa cushion beside her. "Mike and I have been talking about different things."
"Oh?"
Maggie glanced at Mike. He didn't look as if he'd been doing very much talking. But she felt a curiosity for their subject. "What about?"
Belinda answered, "He was telling me about the fishing trip the three of you took this week. He said each of you caught a fish."
"That isn't exactly true," Maggie corrected the impression, and wondered if Wade hadn't mentioned that she had accompanied him and Mike. "I didn't actually catch a fish. Mike caught one on my rod and gave me credit for it."
"You would have caught it," he came to her defense, "if you hadn't fallen overboard."
"You fell overboard?" The blonde's expression was all concern.
Maggie wished Mike hadn't offered that piece of information.
"Yes. It was really nothing."
"How did it happen?"
"Mom caught this fish," Mike started to explain, "and she couldn't get the hook out of its mouth, so dad had to do it for her. He said it was too small to keep and they started arguing."
Maggie wished he wouldn't go into such detail, but there didn't seem to be any way to stop him. "When dad tossed it back into the water, mom tried to catch it. She slipped and went headfirst over the side. Dad tried to grab her, but all he got was her shoe. It was the funniest thing you ever saw!"
Mike was beginning to smile at the memory.
In retrospect, Maggie could see the humor of the incident.
"Mom was soaking wet when she climbed back on the boat. She really got mad when she saw me and dad laughing at her," Mike confided. "When dad gave her the tennis shoe he'd grabbed off her foot, she threw it in the water. I hooked it with my line and got it back before it sank."