by Janet Dailey
"You didn't laugh at her, did you, Wade?" Belinda glanced at him with reproach.
"I'm afraid I did," he admired, a devilish, unapologetic light dancing in his dark eyes.
"That wasn't kind. No wonder you lost your temper, Maggie," Belinda sympathized.
"I imagine I looked pretty comical."
Maggie found herself defending their amusement at her expense.
"You looked even funnier in that shirt," Mike piped up.
"What shirt?" Belinda asked.
"All her clothes were wet, so mom had to wear this shirt. Only it was too big for her," Mike explained.
"How awful for you, Maggie! It must have been a trying experience."
Again Maggie dismissed the offer of sympathy. "Now that I'm warm and dry and on land, I've recovered my sense of humor. Looking back, it doesn't seem quite so bad."
"Do you like to fish, Miss Hale?" Mike wanted to know.
"Call me Belinda," she corrected him. "Yes, I do like to fish. Wade has taken me with him several times in Alaska. When you come to visit us, the three of us will have to go fishing together."
"It could be fun, huh?" Mike seemed to consider the possibility.
"Not the same kind of fun as you have with your mother." Belinda was making an attempt to show she didn't intend to try to take Maggie's place — a commendable gesture. "At least, I hope I don't fall into the river," she joked. "The water up there is very cold."
"I wouldn't worry about that." Wade's arm was draped over the back of the sofa, lightly brushing the girl's shoulders.
The affection in the implied caress sent a wave of jealousy through Maggie. "There's only one Maggie. The things that happen to her aren't likely to happen to anyone else."
"Thank heaven!" Her murmured response was dryly sarcastic, directed at Wade. His barbed look made her cover it. "Do you ski, Miss Hale? With all that snow in Alaska, it would be a shame if you didn't."
"I love to ski. Of course, there are times when it's too bitterly cold to be out in it."
"I'm sure that's true, but what a perfect excuse to drape yourself in furs."
Maggie sipped at her wine, hating the image of the young blonde wrapped in sables.
"Oh, no, I never wear animal fur," Belinda denied that thought. "I can't stand the idea of an animal being killed just so its fur can be used for a coat."
Good heavens, doesn't she have any faults, Maggie wondered in irritation.
She didn't seem human. Even now, confronted by Wade's ex-wife, Belinda was gracious and charming and disgustingly friendly.
"Oh, dear," Maggie heard herself murmuring with false concern, "I do hope you're not a vegetarian. I have a beautiful rib roast cooking in the oven."
Belinda just laughed at the comment, a throaty, genuinely amused sound.
"No, I'm not a vegetarian. My concern for animal life doesn't seem to apply to my stomach. Or maybe it's the practical side of me that abhors waste. I've never been able to understand why people in India have to starve when there are all those sacred cattle roaming around. It's so senseless and tragic."
"Yes, I know what you mean." But Maggie had the feeling she had lost another round. She set her wineglass down. "Excuse me, I think I'd better check on the dinner."
"May I help?" Belinda offered.
"She's an excellent cook," Wade inserted, smiling when Belinda beamed at his compliment.
"I don't doubt it," was Maggie's slightly snappish reply of jealousy. Again she masked it with a quick smile. "Thank you, but I can manage. Excuse me."
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Chapter Thirteen
IN THE KITCHEN she wanted to bang pots and pans, slam cupboard doors, release all this pent-up frustration. How could anyone possibly compete with a woman who was so perfect?
She forced herself to control the anger she felt, but it seethed inside her, bubbling like a volcano.
To make her feel worse, she didn't think there was a gram of jealousy in Belinda's body.
She herself was torn apart by the emotion, and it made her feel small and mean.
When she was satisfied that everything was in order in the kitchen, Maggie decided it was better to begin dinner now than wait and risk overcooking the meal. She carried the servings of spinach salad to the dining-room table before returning to the living room to suggest they come to the table.
"Spinach salad, one of my favorites," Belinda remarked as she sat in a chair opposite from Wade. "Did you tell her it was?" she asked him, and Maggie immediately wished she had chosen something else for the salad course.
"No, I didn't mention it to her."
"It's one of our favorites," Maggie explained grudgingly.
"Do you like spinach, Mike?"
Belinda smiled at the dark-haired boy sitting at the head of the table.
"I like it this way, but I don't like it when it's cooked."
"I don't think many children do," Belinda replied with understanding.
Maggie suspected she was a veritable paragon of understanding. "This is a beautiful set of china, Maggie."
"A wedding gift." Now why had she volunteered that information, Maggie wondered. Why hadn't she simply accepted the compliment with a thank-you? Her irritation increased.
"Are you and dad going, to have kids?" Mike blurted out the question.
Maggie felt her cheeks flame in an attempt to match the color of her hair, but she was the only one who registered any embarrassment. Belinda seemed to find nothing wrong with it.
Wade shot Maggie a look that seemed to accuse her of somehow instigating the question.
"We want to have a family, yes," Belinda answered. "We both love children and hope to have several babies. What do you think about becoming a big brother?"
"I don't know,"
Mike shrugged and attacked his salad.
Maggie's fork extracted vengeance from the innocent green leaves. Several babies. One big happy family. The only thing wrong with the picture was that Belinda would be in her place. The need to destroy the image consumed her.
"Are you sure you want to go through the two-o'clock feedings, the croup and teething again, Wade?" She hid her jealousy behind taut mockery. "Don't you think you're getting a bit old for that? You should have children when you're young and your nerves are more capable of taking the strain. Of course, Belinda is still young and can handle it, but you …" Maggie let the sentence trail away unfinished, again drawing attention to their age difference.
There was a dangerous glitter in his dark eyes, but Wade responded with marked evenness. "I'm certain I'll be able to cope, Maggie."
"I think Wade will make an excellent father," Belinda remarked. "But I suppose you've already had proof of that."
Again, it was a calm statement of fact, with no envy.
"Wade was a very good father, and still is," Maggie agreed, mimicking the blonde's tone. "I was only concerned that when your children are grown, Wade will practically be in his dotage."
"What's dotage?" Mike frowned.
"It's a diplomatic way of saying 'old age,'" Wade explained, his mouth twisted wryly. "Your mother is trying to point out that I'm getting older."
"You are old, aren't you?" Mike countered with perfect innocence.
It was all Maggie could do not to laugh.
Wade managed to maintain his composure, however tightly held. "I prefer to believe that I'm just approaching my prime."
"That's so very true in our society." Belinda expanded on his answer.
"A man's attraction increases when he's over thirty, but when a woman reaches that age, she's considered over the hill. I think it's terribly unfair. But haven't you found it to be true, Maggie?"
She was so outraged she couldn't speak.
It didn't matter that the remark hadn't been intended to be personal. It was an unnecessary reminder of her own age.
Wade recognized the danger signals flashing from her. "That opinion is changing. Women over thirty are still very desirable, and people are beginn
ing to recognize that."
He salved her wounded ego.
Maggie had never been particularly sensitive about her age until that moment. Despite Wade's comment, she still felt slightly raw. She managed to bring her temper down to a low simmer. Maggie used the excuse that she had to bring the rest of the food from the kitchen in order to make a discreet exit and regain control of her turbulent emotions.
As she transferred the meat from its roasting pan onto a platter, she realized Wade hadn't said that for her sake. He had been protecting his fiancée from the scorching flash of her temper.
How stupid of her not to have guessed!
The heat of her anger increased a degree instead of lowering.
Maggie laid the carving knife and fork on the meat platter and carried it into the dining room, where she set it in front of Wade.
"Will you carve the meat?"
"Yes," he agreed, and eyed her with quiet speculation.
Gathering the salad plates, she carried them to the kitchen.
With an ominously steady hand she dished up the potatoes and vegetables to take them in.
Over and over in her mind she kept repeating that she wouldn't lose her temper no matter how sorely she was tried.
"Maggie, I think the relationship you have with Mike is quite remarkable," Belinda declared.
"Oh? Why is that?" She set the bowl of potatoes beside Mike's plate.
"I believe it's difficult to raise an only child, especially when the parents are divorced. The tendency for a single parent is to become overprotective. Yet Mike shows no signs of that, even though you are very close. I think it's marvelous that it's turned out that way, since you're nearing the age where it isn't wise to have more children."
There was absolutely nothing malicious in the comment, but it struck a nerve that had become touchy. It was sheer misfortune that Maggie was standing beside Belinda's chair when she made it.
And it was even worse that she had a bowl of cream peas and pearl onions in her hand.
With no conscious direction from her mind, her hand tipped the bowl and poured the creamy vegetables in Belinda's lap. The instant she heard the other girl's startled shriek and saw what she had done, Maggie was horrified.
"I'm so sorry! I don't know how it happened." She was grabbing for a napkin as Belinda pushed her chair away from the table. "I'm sorry," she repeated, and dabbed ineffectually at the spreading stain of cream sauce and smashed peas.
"Damn you, Maggie!"
Wade was swearing under his breath and pushing her out of the way. "I should have known something like this would happen!"
While it hadn't been exactly deliberate, Maggie didn't try to protest her innocence. She wasn't entirely convinced herself that it had been an accident. She felt wretched.
Belinda recovered sufficiently from her stunned dismay to murmur, "It's all right. I'm sure it was an accident."
Maggie thought she would have felt better if the young woman had yelled abuse at her.
All this magnanimous forgiving and understanding was becoming too much.
Mike wasn't helping matters. Both hands were clamped over his mouth in an attempt to hold back his convulsing laughter.
One glance at Maggie and Mike turned away, his shoulders shaking all the harder.
"Come on, Belinda."
Wade was helping the girl to her feet. The worst of the cream sauce and peas were absorbed and blobbed on a once white napkin.
But they had left a large, ugly stain down the front of the blue dress. "I'll take you home," he told her.
"I'm sorry," Maggie repeated, helpless to undo what she had done.
"It will clean, don't worry," Belinda assured her, still slightly in a daze. "Please send me the bill," Maggie insisted as she followed the couple to the front door. "I'll pay for it."
"You're damned right you will!" Wade snapped. And Maggie knew he wasn't talking about money.
"It was nice meeting you," Belinda called over her shoulder as Wade hustled her out the door.
That convinced Maggie the girl wasn't human. No ordinary mortal could have a bowl of peas spilled on her and still say with sincerity that it was nice to meet the person who did it.
Maggie walked numbly back into the dining room and stared at the peas and onions on the carpet beside Belinda's chair.
Mike no longer tried to contain his laughter as tears rolled from his eyes.
"Stop laughing, Mike! It isn't funny."
"Yes, it is. It's the funniest thing I ever saw!'"
"Just shut up and help me clear up this mess before the peas get ground into the carpet."
Maggie bent down and began picking up the vegetables drenched in cream sauce.
Mike joined her, wiping the tears from his cheeks and trying to choke back the laughter. "Mom," he declared, "you're priceless!"
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Chapter Fourteen
MAGGIE FOLDED the damp dish towel and hung it on its rack to dry.
Apart from the leftover roast and potatoes in the refrigerator, there was nothing about the house to suggest she had entertained guests that evening.
All the dishes were washed and put away. The carpet in the dining room had been spot-cleaned of its cream sauce.
The linen tablecloth was buried in the clothes hamper, along with the napkins.
This elimination of any hint of entertaining extended even to herself.
Her face was scrubbed clean of all makeup. The long black hostess skirt and silver lamé blouse were hanging in her closet once again. The onyx earrings were in her jewel box, and the black evening shoes were in her shoe bag.
In their place she wore her new forest green house robe. Barefoot, Maggie walked to the coffeepot and filled a cup with the fresh brew.
The doorbell rang and she didn't need a magic genie to tell her who it was. She had known all along that Wade would be coming back after he had seen Belinda safely home.
She walked into the dining room toward the living room.
Mike answered the door, as she had known he would. "Mom? Dad's here!"
Wade had not changed his clothes. But the knot of his tie was loosened and the top button of his shirt unfastened.
The small change seemed to remove the veneer of civilization to expose a ruthless quality.
As wrong as she was, Maggie wouldn't bow her head to him.
"Hello, Wade," Her voice was amazingly steady. "I've been expecting you. The coffee is fresh. Would you like a cup?"
"No."
Wade glanced at Mike, who was watching them both with silent expectancy.
"Go to your room, Mike. I want to speak to your mother in private."
"Okay."
Mike didn't argue. "Don't be too hard on her, dad. Mom feels pretty bad about what happened."
"On second thought, call your friend next door and see if you can spend the night with him," Wade told him.
Mike glanced hesitantly at Maggie. With a silent nod, she gave her permission. The strained silence over the next few minutes, during which Mike telephoned and got an invitation to spend the night with his friend, was an ordeal.
Maggie drank her coffee and tasted none of it. Both she and Wade were too tense to sit down. They wandered aimlessly around the living room like circling combatants until Mike left.
Then finally, when they were alone, they confronted each other.
Maggie took the initiative. "There's no excuse for what I did tonight," she began.
"I'm glad you realize that."
The fact that she took the blame didn't appease Wade's anger.
"I didn't do it intentionally, I swear," Maggie continued.
"It sure as hell wasn't an accident," he growled.
"It wasn't an accident, but it wasn't on purpose, either."
She set her cup down and twisted her fingers together. "I didn't even know what I was doing until it was too late."
"Why, Maggie? Why?" Wade raked his fingers through the side of his hair. "Why did you do
it?"
"How should I know?" Maggie protested, angered by her helplessness to explain. "It just happened."
"Nothing 'just happens.' Not with you! You make things happen. You strike sparks, then fan them into flames. Before you know it, the fire sweeps through everything and you have a disaster on your hands."
"If you feel that way, you never should have brought her over here in the first place!" She struck back with equal vehemence.
"That's typical!" Wade declared with an angry, exasperated sigh. "Blame me because you can't control your temper."
"I'm not blaming you — I blame myself. It was unforgivable and I know that! But I just couldn't take it anymore."
"Take what? Don't tell me you let all that talk about age get under your skin? Why should that bother you?"
"Oh, yes, I remember all you said about women over thirty still being desirable," Maggie said caustically. "It was nothing but talk.
"Look at you — you're marrying a twenty-year-old woman."
"Twenty-one."
"Twenty-one," she repeated. "Let's not forget that one year."
Sarcasm coated her tongue. "It makes all the difference, doesn't it?"
"For God's sake, Maggie, I meant every word I said!" He took her by the shoulders and shook her hard. "Haven't my actions since I came back proved that I find you a very desirable woman still?"
"I'm nothing but a habit to you?"
She flung back his words that had stung her before. "Like when a person quits smoking and keeps on wanting a cigarette."
"Yes," Wade agreed tightly, "even when he knows it's bad for him.
"The problem is when he lights up a cigarette again, all he remembers is how good it is. That's how it's been for me ever since I made the mistake of kissing you again. All I can think about is how good it is."
"Sure," she mocked. "That's why you're engaged to Belinda."
"It's confusing, isn't it?" One corner of his mouth curled in a cynical smile.
"You ought to be in my shoes if you want to know what real confusion is like. Belinda is a girl in a million, yet —"