Yes, indeed. Olivia had already reached that conclusion, some time ago; it was a relief to hear that Julia, too, was coming around, all on her own. Someone else in her corner.
The baby, so sensitive to forces in the atmosphere, suddenly gave a forthright kick. With a grimace, Olivia smoothed her hand gently, reassuringly, over what was going on inside. Meanwhile she glanced outside: one more quick check that all was well in the Halliwell backyard, that her son and her dog were still safe.
This felt like a cat-and-mouse game, and she had become the prey. Having to live on the edge of a perceived danger was playing havoc with her emotions. And her sanity. Past time for another dose of that dreadful pink anti-acid stuff.
Perhaps that was the result Annajane Kendricks was seeking.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Annajane loved every feature of the luxurious mansion into which she had installed herself after the disastrous past year. More castle than mere habitation, its ivied walls boasted large mullioned windows, richly colored and woven heirloom tapestries, dark imported wood for floors and panels, carpets more suitable for framing than walking upon, heavy antique chandeliers. The ambiance suited her; she could almost imagine herself presiding here as a medieval queen upon some sumptuous throne, surrounded by servants and lackeys.
Yes, she loved every feature. Except one.
The house belonged to her second husband, Roger Kendricks, and she shared its dark romantic spaces with him. Not with Jeff Quinley, who had been stolen from her in a breathtaking display of brass.
Thoughtful, she lifted one hand to move back one of the thick velvet draperies whose design had been so faithfully reproduced from one loomed centuries ago.
There, just in the cul-de-sac; there stood her enemy. Worming herself into everyone’s good graces, making friends with her friend. The very idea! That conniving fiend, Jeff’s first love—or so he had inadvertently revealed—had emerged from the Halliwell’s front door, still talking with Julia as three boys and a dog converged upon them.
Annajane shuddered. Children. Animals. Even contemplating their presence was enough to give her the hives. Why any sane person would want proximity with either was a mystery. Ugh. Dirty, disgusting creatures, every one of them.
She watched while Olivia waved goodbye, then walked resolutely closer, to the Quinley place. A minute or two pause, the great door swung open, and the woman disappeared inside with her son and his canine—probably flea-bitten—right alongside.
“What are you seeing out there, Janie, dear?”
Startled, she dropped the curtain back in place and turned to confront her husband. “Roger! Don’t ever sneak up on me like that again! You nearly frightened me into a heart attack!”
“But, I—” he began automatically to protest. Then, as blood suffused her pale Nordic features, and her fingers formed into tight fists, he thought better of it. “Of course not, sweetheart. I apologize. Anything interesting going on in the neighborhood?”
“Oh, just the usual. Dear little Mrs. Quinley is settling in and getting cozy.”
“Is she now? Well, she may as well. They’ll probably be living here soon, and having—uh—” A glare stopped him mid-sentence, and he hastily backtracked. “Well, darling, once you give final approval to that godawful project at your friend’s, we’ll begin traveling again, and you can put all this behindyou. That is—uh—I suppose you have permission to leave the country—?”
“Roger, I do want to leave.” She added a convincing touch of pathos to her tone. “I want to go away somewhere. Can’t I—can’t we, I mean—take a nice long leisurely trip?”
From his position near the fireplace, a few feet away, he surveyed her, this elegant, exasperating woman he had chosen of his own free will to marry. Did she, he occasionally wondered, at all understand the concept of love, and the emotions involved? Simple reciprocity alone would do. He wasn’t asking for much. How had he been so blind to her single-minded selfishness?
And yet, he loved her. That was no explanation, but a mere statement of fact.
“Roger? You’re woolgathering. Did you hear me?”
Someone would have to watch out for her, whitewash her rash behavior, keep her on the straight and narrow. Clearly he had been elected, courtesy of a wedding ring.
“Yes, my sweet. I heard you. Let’s discuss travel, shall we? Where would you like to go?”
Attempting to make amends for his heavy-handed overtures, he slipped one arm around her slender shoulders. Not so golden anymore, deprived of foreign sunlight all those months locked away, but still elegant.
Miffed, Annajane neatly sidestepped the embrace.
“Well, then. We can talk about that another time, perhaps. Would you like to eat out somewhere, my darling?”
She gave him a look. “Unless you might possibly think I would go anywhere near a kitchen.”
“Of course not.” It was an uphill battle, trying to keep their marriage on an even keel; and Roger was beginning to lose strength and heart for the climb. Straightening his tie, he mustered up a smile and moved away. “Very well. I’ll give Le Bistro Royal a call, and reserve a spot for us, shall I?”
“Please do.” And stop hovering over me like some damned poodle.
It wasn’t until he had soundlessly disappeared from their formal living room that she returned to her perusal of the street. A disappointment now, however; nothing to be seen. Other than those wretched Halliwell heathens, riding their bicycles in the street and yelling at each other. Wherever she moved to next, Annajane decided, the place would be restricted. No children allowed. She hated the scrawny beasts.
Almost as much as she hated the new Mrs. Quinley.
The nervy little twit needed a comeuppance. And Annajane Merrill Quinley Kendricks was just the one to provide it.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Olivia’s second visit to see Julia in the Queen Street Cuddlysack, accompanied by both Nicholas and Bruno, would have been even more successful than the first, had it not been for one unexpected and unpleasant element.
A light summer rain had been falling for most of the day. Tree leaves and shrubs were being washed clean, and Julia’s roses were almost visibly sending up a sigh of relief for the welcome watering, along with their signature sweet scent. Kept indoors by the weather, all three boys and the dog disappeared into the basement playroom, where toys of all kinds abounded: An Xbox and its most recent attachments, a pool table, a television and karaoke machine, various board games and puzzles stacked onto a bookshelf.
Midway through their early afternoon refreshment of hot tea, in deference to cooler temperatures, and warm gingerbread fresh from the oven, the click of a key turning the front door lock sounded. Then brief silence. By the time Julia, surprised, had half-risen to see if her husband had been able to come home early for a change, a dreaded high-pitched voice came echoing through the hall in tandem with the thunk of high-heeled shoes on a wooden floor.
“Yoohoo, Julia! Where are you? I stopped by for a brief consultation on one itty-bitty problem we’ve run into, and—oh.”
Annajane, as well dressed as if she were on her way to greet some Washington official, had stopped short on the threshold of the sunroom. Despite the heavy mist and slight wind of today’s conditions, she wore her nubby pink knit suit with aplomb. How dare outside events even consider affecting her costly attire?
While Olivia, ensconced like a beached whale in Julia’s easy wicker chair, looked ruefully down at herself in contrast. Nearly seven months pregnant, she felt—and looked—enormous, preferring the comfort of stretchy this and stretchy that and flat sandals to anything that constricted.
A mixture of emotions visibly crossed poor Julia’s face. Caught in what she dearly hoped would not become crossfire, she greeted her guest with a half-smile and a lurch of the heart. “AJ. Well. Um Isn’t this—uh—nice? Please, come in, join us. You’ve—uh—you’ve met Olivia—?” Oh, God, probably not, with all the unfor
tunate occurrences that had swirled around them! Feeling helpless, and silently damning Annajane for putting her into this unconscionable situation, Julia gulped.
“No, I’ve not had the pleasure,” said Annajane, sweeping over the almost painful pause to stride confidently into the room. “How d’ you do, Olivia. Quinley, is it?”
“Quinley, it is.” After glancing down at the mound of her belly as an excuse for not heaving herself upright, Olivia decided to give the intended insult right back. “How d’ you do, Annajane. Kendricks, is it?”
“Well, now, isn’t this nice,” Julia, wanting to do nothing more than flee screaming into the rain, repeated brightly. “Want some tea, AJ?”
“I’d love some, thanks.” Easily the model-slender, model-beautiful woman took a seat and accepted the cup handed over.
For her part, Olivia found that her pulses were inexplicably racing, and her breath was coming fast. Calm down! she tried to reassure a heartbeat run amok. Surely the woman can’t/won’t try anything nasty here, in her friend’s actual house!
“You were saying something about a problem?” Julia tried prompting.
But Annajane was focused on her own agenda. “How long have you been married?” she asked pointedly.
None of your damned business! “A while,” Olivia replied, with all the apparent serenity she could muster.
“Hmph. And you work?”
“In my humble opinion, all women work, at one thing or another.”
A shrug of the narrow shoulders, a sip of the cooling tea. “I suppose so. And does your husband—” Another one who refused to name names: “—like your hairstyle?”
“What’s wrong with my hairstyle?” Olivia blurted out before she could stop her tongue.
“Nothing, I suppose. If you enjoy looking like a cockatoo. Are you taking pleasure in the house I designed and created?”
Olivia’s backbone tightened, and her insides tensed. Which immediately upset the baby, who responded with a series of quite visible movements. “It’s—big,” she answered warily. Don’t give anything away. Withhold information, at all costs.
“Hmmm. Yes, I would agree. I planned it that way.” Like a cool, detached robot, Annajane’s piercing blue gaze slid down over the mound of Olivia’s belly and back up again. “You must be cautious on those marble stairs, though. An accidental slip and fall could be—disastrous…especially for someone in your—ah—delicate condition.”
Julia gasped. “AJ! What exactly are you insinuating?”
The interior decorator turned insolent eyes on her hostess. “I? Why, Julia, my dear, I’m insinuating nothing. Just warning, that’s all. Marble can be so—slick…don’t you think? Each footstep must be carefully—placed…”
“What I think is that you’d better tell me about this problem you’ve run into,” responded Julia coldly and firmly. “And then I really need to check on the boys, downstairs.”
“Of course.” Lithe as a snake, Annajane slid upright. “There’s a crack in one of the living room walls, and we’ll need to do further work as to the foundation. Come, I’ll show you. Oh, good day to you, Mrs. Quinley. Do take care.” Waving a negligible hand in Olivia’s direction, she wandered away, with a grim-faced Julia in her wake.
Leaving Olivia, pallid and pasty as a crumpled tissue, to work at recovering. The encounter itself had been disturbing enough; to be threatened, in no subtle way, set the hair to rising on her arms and the perspiration to dampening her temples. Shaking, she finished off her tea in a few feverish gulps and was almost composed by the time Julia returned.
“My God, that woman!” she was snarling under her breath like a tigress on the hunt. “I simply cannot believe her nerve! Livvie, are you okay? Sweetie, you look like death warmed over. I’m so sorry for all this! Can I get you something?”
“Well, I—I don’t think so.” Olivia was finding that, if she concentrated very intently, she could speak without her teeth rattling together. “But it’s quite late. If you’ll call—if you’ll call the boys back upstairs, we should probably be—on our way…”
Deeply concerned, Julia sank down on the ottoman beside her friend’s chair to clasp both her hands in a warm embrace. “Soon, Liv, I promise. But, first, I want you to recover. AJ is gone for now, and I intend to cut this whole redecorating thing short. No more keys, no more just walking into my house. You sit still for a few minutes, Liv, and I’m going to fix us more hot tea. No, don’t argue. I’d give you brandy, if you weren’t pregnant.”
Olivia used the time during Julia’s disappearance toward the kitchen to gather her wits. No, Annajane Kendricks (now being thought of as “the foe” in very real terms) had offered no physical violence or overt danger. Her method was to use intimidation and fear as a means of gaining control. Definitely effective.
“Liv, this is awful. Just awful. You’re actually shivering!” Julia, returning briskly, observed with horror. “Here, drink this. And, for heaven’s sake, cover up with my afghan!”
“All right,” she acquiesced meekly. For the moment, after sensing the poison that had seeped into the room’s atmosphere from Annajane’s presence, it felt very good to be mothered.
Under the direct orders of her hostess, she remained for another hour, regaining a sense of balance. During which the boys and dog came thundering upstairs from their game den demanding sustenance. They were starving, claimed Chris; they were dying, claimed Chad. Although well-mannered Nicholas did not join in the hue and cry, Bruno added a few sorrowful whines to prove that he, too, lay at death’s door and must eat now.
Eventually, with everyone restored by refreshments, and the rain dying away into a few sporadic drops, Olivia felt recovered enough to gather her companions for the trip home.
Julia impulsively gave her a hug at the front door. “Drive safely, my dear. And call me when you get home, just so I know you’ve made it in one piece, okay?”
Courage and stamina had been revitalized enough for Olivia to chuckle. “I will. And thank you for the afternoon out—it’s been most—entertaining.” Another chuckle. “Next time you’ll have to come visit us in Westhalen.”
“Delighted. I’ll wait to hear from you. Christopher Halliwell, stop digging in those cookies, you’ve had far and away too many as it is!”
And life with the boys returned to normal.
* * * * * * * * * * *
“You ratted me out!” Olivia, half-annoyed, half-relieved, fluttered a small laugh.
From the cuddlesack house, over the line came a warm, throaty chortle. “Well, of course I did, Livvie. What are friends for?”
“But I certainly didn’t expect—”
“Look, Liv, you were really rattled about events at my place today, and I was quite worried about your driving home with just Nick and Bruno to watch over you. So I called Jeff to tell him what happened with AJ.”
“But I would have—”
“Maybe you would have, and maybe you wouldn’t. You’re a strong person, sweetie, and I can tell you’re used to dealing with problems on your own. But this whole mess lies at Jeff’s door, and it’s only right he knows how serious this—this confrontation—was. He needs to protect you. You and that precious baby you’re carrying.”
Unconsciously Olivia’s hand moved in a downward sweep, as it always did in moments of stress, to gently smooth over the place where her child rested so securely. “I was quite—shaken,” she admitted in low tones. Having slipped away to the privacy of her home office, she was being careful not to disturb the whole trio of males, who were involved in watching some televised baseball game.
“I know. And so was Jeff, believe me. I hope he’s planning to take steps to keep that she-wolf away from you.”
“We had a long talk. His solution seems to involve lawyers.”
Despite the gravity of their conversation, Julia couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, God. Doesn’t it always? They’re the scourge of our existence, aren’t they?”
“I
guess so. Until you need something done legally.”
Once she had clicked off from the cell phone, Olivia leaned back in her chair to contemplate events of the whole afternoon, beginning with that unfortunate visit and ending with Jeff’s frantic plans for the future. Finding that his ex-wife had so blatantly threatened the wife of his dreams, he had reacted with typical male disbelief, concern, and fury.
He had already contacted an attorney friend of his, Jeff told Olivia in no uncertain terms, and had arranged an appointment for tomorrow morning. No way was this craziness going to go on; it would end here, if he had to file a TRO every hour on the hour to keep that madwoman out of their lives.
Olivia’s mild protest had fallen on deaf ears; Jeff was royally pissed, besides being frightened to the depths of his being for this lovely woman’s welfare. Whatever game Annajane was playing now, he would see the suntanned crone in jail before taking any more chances with Olivia’s health, and the health of their unborn child.
“I don’t want you going to visit Julia anymore right now,” he told her quietly, mindful of the boy who had retreated to his room for some internet exploration but who might, in the way of boys everywhere, reappear at any time.
“But, Jeff, surely I—”
“No, pregnant lady. Stick close to home for the next couple of months, okay?” Taking light hold of her chin, he brushed a kiss across her open mouth. “I want you here, where I can keep an eye on you. If you and Julia wanna get together, have her come to our house, instead.”
“I’m sure she will, whenever we decide to—”
“Good. Now. You sure you’re okay? Baby doin’ all right?”
“Oh, Jeff.” It was early evening, supper was finished and the table cleared, and they were sitting comfortably on the family room couch, as close as if joined at the hip. His arm was settled securely around her, keeping all troubles at bay. She sighed with content. “Yes, we’re both fine.”
Grinning, he slid the palm of one hand across her belly and leaned forward to offer his usual words of wisdom. “Hey, little one, how’re things? A couplea months yet, kiddo, and then you’ll be out here with us and your big brother. Just chill for a while.”
Romance: He Done Her Wrong (Cuddlesack Queens #2) Page 5