Keeping Victoria's Secret

by Melinda Peters

  “I can understand why four-wheel-drive would come in handy up there,” said Marsha.

  “My neighbors here are so nice. Someone is always offering me a ride into town or anywhere I need to go. Jack has told me I can borrow his truck if I need to.”

  “Jack? You mean the guy who thought he owned your house? He’s still there?” Marsha asked in amazement.

  “I do need someone to take care of all those apples, don’t I?” she said, laughing.

  “Yeah, that’s true, and the fact that he’s totally hot doesn’t affect your judgment? Is there something going on that you’re not telling me Vick? Maybe you and Jack are more than just friends?”

  “Marsha.”

  “Okay! I won’t pry. It’s none of my business, but I’m looking forward to meeting this Jack. You’ve got me intrigued.”

  “Hey! Why not drive up here for a visit? I’d really love to see you and I want you to see Nanna’s house. Get out of the city and away from the heat, not that it hasn’t been stifling up here, but I understand it’s really miserable down there.”

  “When I leave the building it’s like I’ve been dropped into an oven. Thank God for air conditioning. I would love to see Nanna’s old home. She was a sweetie. Poor thing, I know you miss her. Thanks for the offer. I’ll try and do that someday.”

  “Why not come up for a weekend? It’s so not the city here. Pippen’s Grove is a really small town and everyone seems to know what’s going on with everyone else. Still, it’s nice and quiet, a big change from what you’re used to. I think you’ll find the pace here a little slower and relaxing. I like it here and the people are really nice. ”

  “I just might do that Vick. I’ll let you know.” Marsha sighed, “Okay, back to work! When you figure out how much longer it will be until you send us your manuscript, shoot me an email so I’ll know what to tell the editor, okay?”

  “Will do, Marsha,” she said, before hanging up.

  Rereading her last few paragraphs of “Caribbean Fire”, she made a couple of changes. Leaning back she let her mind wander for several minutes, then sat up straight and once more, her fingers flew over the keyboard.

  Forgoing her usual morning writing routine, Vicky spent the early hours of Saturday, July 15th, cleaning and straightening the farmhouse. She showered and after applying a little makeup, brushed her curls into a new soft flowing style that flattered her. Though she missed her Nanna every day, she appreciated having the time to visit the salon and get her hair and nails done. There hadn’t been the time when her grandmother had required constant attention.

  With a few minutes to spare, she sat down at her desk intending to get a little writing done, when there was a loud banging at the back door. She ran to the porch when she heard Jack calling to her.

  “Open up!”

  She opened the screen door letting Jack squeeze past her, his arms filled with a bushel basket that he proudly carried in and placed on the porch floor. “Here’s the first of the vegetables Victoria. I wanted you to see them.”

  She looked into the basket that was filled with several types of squash, potatoes, onions, and cucumbers.

  Romeo and Juliet came running at the sound of voices. Cautiously they circled the basket, sniffing suspiciously. Jack bent down to scratch behind ears and under little chins.

  “Oh Jack, this is wonderful. I’ve been so busy, I almost forgot all about the vegetable stand. Does this mean we can start selling things now?”

  “We open in a couple of days. I’ve put ads in the local news flyers with an opening date of July 18. All this stuff will be coming in like crazy. This is just the first of it. I’ve got lots more coming, there’s a basket of green beans for you too. I never did anything about hiring a high school kid to man the stand. I decided I’d do it myself for the first season. I can pick and do all the other chores in the mornings, then be down at the road in the afternoon. It’ll be a lot of work, but what the heck.”

  “Jack, what can I do to help?”

  “Nothing Victoria, but thanks. The agreement was, I’d do all the farm work and you take care of the house, wasn’t that it? Besides, I assume you have your own work to do.” He nodded towards her office.

  “Yeah, I do have stuff…. There is work,” she said hesitantly.

  “Okay, I’ve got to get back out to the fields. This is the fun part, when you start harvesting. When the apples are ready, we’ll have some itinerant workers picking. The apples are a big job. Actually, Vince said his teenager nephew is living with them up here for the summer. I think he wants the kid to get a job and I said I’d think about it. Maybe I should hire him to help pick. What do you think?”

  Looking over the basket of vegetables, she had an idea. “Jack. Tonight why don’t I make us some dinner with all this? We could talk then. I’ll take out a couple of steaks or chops make a salad and grill some of those squash. You’re going to be working hard all day. It’s the least I can do.”

  He grinned at her. “You’re asking me to dinner. Is it a date?”

  She frowned. “Whatever you want to call it. I don’t care. If this arrangement is going to work, we need to be friends and civil to one another.”

  Jack sighed, “Thank you. I’d love to have dinner with you. I’ll be here around five, okay?”

  "Sure."

  Unable to take his eyes from her, Jack felt a stirring deep within that he seemed incapable of controlling. Victoria was so beautiful. Today, she wore earrings and makeup, a little pink skirt and a low cut white blouse that tied just above her waist revealing a band of smooth tan skin. He cleared his throat. “Victoria, I’d really like to be more than just friends.”

  “Let’s just leave it like that,” she said looking away. “Friends.”

  Nodding he said, “Okay. Whatever you want."

  “That reminds me. We haven’t heard anything from Fred in a while. Let's call him on Monday. I was thinking about it last night and read over all of his paperwork again. We definitely need to find out what’s going on with the legal stuff. I noticed your grandmother was named Victoria too. You were named for her?”

  “Yes, she was Victoria Elisabeth Willet. I think of her every day, especially now that I’m living here.”

  "I'm glad you are."

  She nodded, unsure how to answer him.

  Jack left and headed out towards the barn. As she watched him go her cell phone chirped and she dashed back into her office to retrieve it from her desk.

  Marsha Chandler’s rapid-fire New York City voice came at her in a rush. “Vicky Honey, guess what? I’m taking you up on that invitation. I’ve got to get out of here for a couple of days before my head explodes. Know what I mean? Is next weekend too soon for you? If it is, just say so.”

  She answered without having to think about it. “Sure Marsha, next weekend is fine. There’s plenty of room here. I’ve got three spare bedrooms.”

  “That’s so great. I can’t wait to see you. We can just kick back, have some wine, and bitch about men.”

  “That will be easy!” she laughed.

  “Would you cook for me? As good as the food is in New York; every now and then, I want the kind of thing Mom used to make. You’re the best cook I know of, after Mom! I promise to help.”

  “Want me to make that chocolate cake you’re so fond of?” The last time she made that cake was her birthday, the evening she’d gone overboard with the wine and given Jack way too much information.

  “That dreamy dark chocolate one with the whipped cream?”

  “That’s the one. Whipped cream, cream cheese, white or chocolate frosting, whatever you’d like.”

  “Great! I’m thinking the chocolate whipped cream. We can have a girl’s night out with lots of wine and chocolate. I am so ready to break out of here, leave work and the city behind for a few days. You have no idea Vick, but I’ll tell you everything when I get there. See you next Saturday around lunchtime? We can get caught up.”

  Looking out her window, watching Jack walking
near the barn, Vicky had a thought. “Listen Marsha, you know how I like to keep Tori Baxter and what she does quiet? I’m doing that here, just like in Jersey.”

  “Vick, your friend Tori makes millions of people very happy.”

  “I know, but you understand, I love to write about all that hot sex, but I just can’t talk about it.” Just the thought of people knowing she’d written all those steamy passages gave Vicky a queasy guilty feeling, as though she were doing something naughty.

  “Yes, I do remember and will respect your wishes. Let me guess. This guy Jack and all the new friends you’ve made up there in the sticks have no idea what you do for a living, am I right?”

  “Yup, that’s right. Would you be terribly offended if I just introduce you as a friend from the city?”

  “Of course not. Honey. I am your friend from the city. All you authors are a little eccentric. See you next Saturday. Can you shoot me an email with directions?”

  “Sure Marsha, I’ll do that right away. Thanks for understanding. Bye” Good, that’s all settled. Satisfied that she could keep her secret from everyone, especially Jack. I’m sure that he’d think I’m an idiot for writing all those sexy romance novels. He with his William Butler Yeats and all the classics on his shelf. Marsha won’t slip up. It’ll be so great to spend a weekend with her. Maybe even get “Caribbean Fire” wrapped up and ready for a ‘rewrite’ by then.

  After tending to her email, Vicky returned to the kitchen and looked at the clock, startled to see how late it was. She took some steaks out of the freezer to thaw, and went to the coffee pot and switched it on. Then she walked into the dining room to inspect the table she had set for her guests.

  A loud rapping came from the front door. The planning meeting of the Pippen’s Grove book club was about to begin. Vicky drew open the front door and pushed the screen door to let in Diane balancing a pound cake and a laptop in her arms. Other cars were pulling into the driveway.

  “Hey.” she said, hugging Diane around the cake. "Thanks for helping with the refreshments. That smells so good. I can't wait to taste it."

  On her way into the dining room Vicky realized she hadn't considered what to make Jack for dessert.

  Chapter 20

  Vicky and Diane chatted in the kitchen as they arranged cookies and pound cake slices on plates. Everyone had been served coffee in the dining room and Vicky had the second pot chugging away. In addition to Diane, Penny was there along with Carol. Three other friends of Diane’s from the Methodist church were also present. In a moment, they'd get comfortable around the big dining room table and make plans for the first meeting of their book club.

  Diane whispered to Vicky, “Isn’t it great that so many showed up?”

  “Yes.” She smiled as they carried plates of cookies and cake in, setting them on the table. Pleased with her efforts, she stepped back to admire her Nanna’s china and napkins arranged on the table. In the center was a pretty cut glass bowl of early flowers from her garden. A pitcher of lemonade and glasses looked inviting next to another tray of cookies.

  Diane breathed, “The table looks so great! Your china and glassware are so pretty and the food looks so good.”

  Smiling, she said, “Aren’t they wonderful? They were my grandmother’s things.”

  Vicky returned to the kitchen, refilled her coffee cup and turned back to join the others. Listening to the laughter in the next room, she thought how reassuring it was to have so many new friends. It'll be nice to have the book club and the opportunity to exchange thoughts on good books.

  Stepping into the dining room, she placed her cup and saucer carefully beside her plate. Drawing out her chair she looked up in surprise and gripped the back for support. Jack was sitting nonchalantly across the table from her. Everyone was passing plates and exclaiming over Diana’s pound cake and Penny’s cookies. Sipping coffee from a dainty china cup with a small plate heaped with cookies at his elbow, he looked perfectly at home.

  “What are you doing here?” she hissed.

  He smiled back disarmingly. “I’m here to help with the book club planning, what else? Diane mentioned it to me the other day, and here I am. Penny, these molasses cookies are delicious,” he said, popping the remains of one into his mouth.

  “Thanks, Jack.” She beamed, patting little Charlotte’s back to encourage a burp. “Jimmy loves them too.”

  “Vicky, didn’t Jack tell you he was coming today?” Diane whispered. “Is something wrong?”

  She eased herself into her chair. “Umm, No he didn’t. This is a surprise. A very nice surprise,” she said smiling sweetly at him. What’s he doing here?

  “Harvesting will keep me busy, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it to all of your meetings, but I’m certainly interested in reading and improving my mind,” he said innocently, looking directly across at her with an angelic face.

  Carol remarked, “I saw an article in The Patriot about your farm stand. I think it’s great. You can’t have too many sources of good local produce. I can remember when your Uncle Charley sold stuff on the road years ago. When will it open?”

  “Our grand opening is next Tuesday,” said Jack.

  Giving Jack a hard look that he ignored, Vicky said, "Everyone help yourselves to more cake and cookies. Would anyone like more coffee?"

  “No? Okay, let’s get started,” said Diane. Frowning at her computer screen she began scrolling through her calendar. “The first thing we need to decide on is when we want to meet. I was thinking monthly.” After some discussion, everyone agreed to meet afternoons on the first Saturday of the month.

  Jack remained silent, happily munching his way through his pile of cookies, then reaching for cake. He smiled at her as she saw him slide two slices onto his plate.

  Watching Jack across that table calmly chewing was making her nervous. What’s he up to? She looked at him intently. Maybe he just came for the cookies.

  “Okay, so let’s see. Does anyone have suggestions for book titles, or maybe you’ve got a favorite author you’d want to share with everyone?” Diane made notes on her laptop as suggestions were made. “This is great. We can vote on these books at our meet and greet, August fifth.”

  The girls began to discuss what kind of books they liked and what books they’d read recently.

  Noticing that the cookie platters now held only a few crumbs, she reached for them. Giving Jack a meaningful glance she said, “I’ll go fill these.” In a moment, she returned and set down the platters.

  “Would anyone like more coffee?” she asked. They all politely refused the offer, except for Jack. He said he’d love more coffee. Vicky sighed, took his cup, and vanished into the kitchen. She stopped halfway to the coffee pot and slowly turned, listening in horror to Carol.

  “I’m not necessarily suggesting her books as reading for this group, but has anyone ever read Tori Baxter?”

  Penny turned to her exclaiming, “Oh my god. I love her romance novels. Baxter is one of my all-time favorites. That woman can write some hot sex!” Laughing she began an exaggerated fanning motion to cool herself. “Sorry Jack. You didn’t hear me say that.”

  Jack wasn’t looking at Penny. He was studying Vicky’s reaction as the women discussed Tori Baxter’s books. She stood there pale and unmoving, coffee cup in hand, eyes wide and staring.

  Carol enthused, “Have you read her latest one, about the fur trappers in the Rocky Mountains?”

  “Yes! What’s it called? Rendezvous Romance?” asked Penny

  “That’s it,” Carol replied. “Talk about hot and steamy! I call her Torrid Tori. She has the sexiest love scenes. Those guys she writes about are so hot! She must have had some incredible experiences with men, to write that stuff.”

  Diane chimed in, “Fur trappers in the Rocky Mountains? Is that a metaphor for something? Oops, forgive me Jack.” Everyone around the table giggled.

  Thoughts cascaded through Jack’s brain in rapid succession and the coin dropped into the slot. Victoria’s se
cret, he thought to himself, amused at the idea. Victoria was Tori Baxter the popular author of so many fiery romance novels. Those same books occupied an entire shelf in her office. Suppressing a grin, Jack maintained a poker face, he didn't want Victoria to realize he was on to her. She received mail from that literary agency in New York City, and was so vague and evasive regarding what it was she wrote. It was all very clear to him now. She’d used her grandmother’s name, Victoria Baxter as her Tori Baxter pen name.

  “Crash.” All conversation ceased and everyone turned to look into the kitchen where Vicky stood, staring down at the cup and saucer shattered on the floor at her feet.

  “Oh shit!” She knelt and began helplessly plucking at the pieces of broken china. She’d gotten out Nanna’s lovely dishes from the hutch and washed them especially for this occasion.

  Jack jumped to his feet and strode into the kitchen. “Don’t do that,” he said. He helped her to her feet. “You’ll cut yourself. I’m sorry Victoria. That’s your grandma’s china isn’t it? Damn, I know how much that means to you. Here, back off, and I’ll get the broom and dustpan. I know where they are. Go and sit. I’ll have this cleaned up in no time.”

  “Thank you Jack,” she managed to whisper.

  In a minute, everyone was seated again, and Jack had a new supply of cookies before him.

  “That was so clumsy,” said Vicky. “I don’t know how it happened. The saucer just slipped right through my fingers. Sorry for the interruption.” Color had returned to her face and she’d composed herself, Jack noticed.

  Diane took charge, tapping with her fork, as though it were a gavel. “Okay then girls…” she winked at Jack. “Now that we’ve scoped out the time, and agreed to get together in our homes, we can all invite friends to come. More members will be attending our next meeting, sort of a ‘meet and greet’. Come prepared with more suggestions and we can line up books for the next few months. This will give everyone time to locate copies and begin reading. I guess that’s it. Thanks for coming”