Pretty Woman

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Pretty Woman Page 23

by Fern Michaels


  “But Daddy…”

  “Screw your daddy. This is between you and me. Your father has nothing to do with me. If you were a real woman instead of a schoolgirl pretending to be a woman, you’d have the guts to handle your own affairs.Our affairs. You know what, we need to take a break from each other. I’m too angry right now to deal with this. We’re both going to say things we’ll regret; and then for sure it will be over. When this is resolved, I’ll call you.”

  “But…”

  “There are no buts, Heather. You screwed up. That’s not something I take lightly. Where is your loyalty? I’ll tell you where it is. It’s with your father. Go there and cry to him. See if he makes you feel better.”

  “You’re dumping me, aren’t you? If you are, I want my money back, and the car has to be returned. If you don’t listen to me, I’ll go to the police and…and…make up something terrible.” Heather stamped her feet in anger, her beautiful face turning ugly.

  “Stop acting like a petulant child. I hate temper tantrums, and do not ever threaten me again. Do whatever the hell you want to do, but leave me alone.” Kent shook his head from side to side. Finally, he threw his hands in the air and stalked back into the office. He didn’t look back.

  Heather sobbed as she walked back to her car.

  Rosie shoved the papers she was working on to the side of the kitchen table so Luna Mae could set her plate down. Rosie looked at the mound of tuna salad, the little pile of crackers, and the apple. She grimaced. Food like this was a way of life now.

  “Is Jack coming over for lunch, Rosie? I made extra.” Luna Mae pointed to the bowl of tuna salad she’d just covered with plastic wrap.

  “I don’t think so. He just said he was stopping by for a minute. Go ahead, put it away.” She took a bite of the salad and, good as it was, it tasted like sawdust. All Rosie could see or think about was the two big suitcases standing next to the kitchen door.

  “Okay. I’m going to get dressed now. A taxi is picking me up in half an hour.”

  Rosie shoved her plate across the table. “I wanted to take you to the airport. I wanted to say good-bye the right way.” Her eyes filled with tears. “You are so damn stubborn sometimes, Luna Mae.”

  “Now you know you’d cry and blubber and carry on, then I’d start to feel bad. This is the best way. You’re starting to waste away to nothing, Rosie. I spent a lot of time making that salad for you. There’s enough to last you for three days. Eat!” she ordered, a catch in her voice, as she left the kitchen.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Rosie said as she reached for the plate. Her eyes were wet. She wiped them with the napkin she was holding in her hand. She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to cry, but it was a fool’s promise, and she’d known that when she made it. She tried again to eat, but the food kept sticking in her throat.

  Rosie was pouring herself a second cup of coffee when the door to Luna Mae’s room opened. All she could do was gawk. Who was this person walking toward her?

  “What do you think, Missy?” Luna Mae asked, twirling around. “Curly’s picking me up at the airport, and I want to blow his socks off.”

  “You…you’re going to do that for sure,” Rosie gasped as she eyed the trim, tailored Armani suit. Ostrich skin shoes and purse completed the outfit. “You look…breathtaking.” Luna Mae had spent a fortune to blow Curly’s socks off. She hoped the man appreciated it. “I…I like the way you made a coronet of your braids. You look elegant and beautiful. Oh, God, I am going to miss you so much! Promise to call me. Every day, Luna Mae. Promise! I want to hear you say the words.”

  “I promise,” Luna Mae said solemnly. “You promised not to cry, Missy.”

  “I’m not crying,” Rosie said, sobbing.

  Buddy barked as he sidled up next to Luna Mae. He wiggled, his tail swishing furiously. Luna Mae bent down and whispered, “You take care of her, you hear me. If you don’t, I’m coming back to swat you.” Buddy threw back his head and howled.

  Rosie held out her arms. Luna Mae stepped into them, all eighty-nine pounds of her. “Don’t mess me up,” she said, a sob catching in her throat.

  “God forbid I should mess you up. Go on, go. Hurry up! I can see the taxi.”

  Luna Mae looked over her shoulder, her eyes full of tears. She could see Rosie biting down on her knuckles. She waved. Rosie waved back.

  Rosie closed the door and ran into Luna Mae’s tidy room. She threw herself down on the bed and sobbed, her whole body shaking with the misery engulfing her.

  Rosie rolled over when she felt the mattress sag. “Oh, Jack! Luna Mae just left to go live with Curly in Indianapolis. I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry, and what do I do? I cry. I can’t believe she actually left. I don’t know what I’m going to do without her. The selfish part of me wanted her to stay, the generous part of me just wants her to be happy. Do you think she’ll come back, Jack?”

  “You left the door open for her to come back. It will be up to her, Rosie. Listen, I wish I could stay and comfort you, but I have to head for the airport myself. I’ll be back Sunday night. I’ll call you every night. I know you’re hurting right now, but this is all about Luna Mae, not you. She deserves to be happy.”

  “I know that, and that’s what I want for her. I just don’t think it’s going to happen. Where are you going, Jack?”

  “Chicago, Minnesota, and Montana. I have to check on our gyms there. I hate leaving you like this. I’m going to worry about you, Rosie. Are you going to be all right?”

  Rosie reached for a tissue. “I’ll be fine once I get used to the idea that Luna Mae is really gone. You better hurry, so you don’t miss your plane. I don’t think anyone ever actually said they were worried about me. It’s a nice feeling. I have Buddy.” She was babbling and couldn’t seem to stop.

  “Here’s the key to the boathouse. The silver key is the key to the house. Remember everything I taught you about canoeing. An hour. If the river is choppy, don’t go out. Be sure to check the weather report. Are you planning to go out there today?”

  “In about an hour.”

  “Make sure you tell someone when you do go out. That’s a rule, Rosie. One you never break.”

  “I understand.”

  Jack leaned over and cupped her face in both hands. He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Are you going to think about me while I’m gone?” he whispered.

  “Every waking moment,” Rosie said honestly. She smiled tremulously. Jack kissed her again, more deeply this time. When he broke away, his eyes looked glassy. “I have to go.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t want to go.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll be back,” Jack said, stepping away from the bed.

  “I know.”

  “I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

  “Tonight is good.” Rosie’s head bobbed up and down.

  Buddy, jittery with these strange goings-on, lunged at Jack to make him move faster. The minute he was through the door, the big dog used his rump to close the door. He then ran across the room and leaped on the bed. He lathered Rosie’s face with wet kisses. She laughed.

  “You aren’t Jack, but you’ll do.” She hugged the dog, tussling with him before she got up to go into the bathroom to wash her face.

  Sadness, then happiness. All within minutes. She stopped to ponder the thought. Back in June she wouldn’t have been able to handle Luna Mae’s departure. Back in June she never would have thought her world would continue without Kent in it. Back in June she never would have thought she could fall in love with someone like Jack Silver.

  Maybe that’s why it was called life.

  Kent Bliss drove down River Road, trying to avoid the deep ruts in the narrow road. As he bounced along, he cursed under his breath. The damn road was a real kidney crusher. He pulled into the driveway as he skirted a young sapling growing in the middle, up through a deep crack in the concrete. Just to be on the safe side, Kent got out and opened the garage door, which creaked and groaned
as the rusty hinges gave way. For some reason he expected to see all kinds of junk, but the garage was bare. There wasn’t anything hanging on the walls either. Strange.

  He drove the Buick inside, got out, and closed the door, the firm’s video camera in hand.

  Kent eyed the terrain. All he could see was a tangled mass of vines and overgrown shrubs. He hated the outdoors. The closest he ever got to real grass was when he played golf. He looked around again. It looked like a jungle to him. He was a concrete-and-glass kind of guy.

  A cloud of gnats swarmed in front of him. He ran out to the road, knocking over theFOR SALE sign. He stopped to right it, then ran through the opening in the iron fence. The rusty iron gate hung drunkenly on one hinge. Four million for this white elephant. “I don’t think so!” he muttered as he picked his way up the rotted wooden steps that led to an equally rotted verandah. The difference between this house and Heather’s was like night and day. There was no way this property would go for four million. Not a chance.

  The floorboards on the verandah were rotted through. He had to step carefully. If he fell through and hurt himself, he could be out here forever. Zigzagging this way and that, he managed to get to the door. He had some trouble with the lock box but finally got it open. He sneezed and kept on sneezing as, dust flying everywhere, he opened the warped and discolored plantation shutters. It would cost a fortune to refurbish this nightmare. His gut told him none of his clients would gamble on this one. Still, he had come here for a reason. He turned the video camera on and walked through the house.

  An hour later, Kent dropped the video camera by the front door to make sure he didn’t forget it and walked back to the kitchen, which was the last room in the old plantation house. What he could see of the back verandah told him it was in as bad shape as the front. There, though, the spindles from the railing were missing. They would also be impossible to replace.

  Nevertheless, the view of the river was spectacular. The problem was, how to get to it. He had visions of snakes and alligators chewing at his feet and legs. A person could die out here, and no one would be the wiser. Maybe that’s why Heather didn’t like coming alone. Jack Silver was a different matter entirely. He closed his eyes and envisioned the trainer wrestling an alligator. He knew in his gut that Jack would be the winner. He’d probably skin the damn gator and have a pair of shoes made for Rosie.

  Kent looked down at his Bally shoes, knowing they’d be ruined the minute he started to tromp through the underbrush. The closer he got to the river, the more sodden the ground would be. He’d be up to his ankles in mud and water moccasins within seconds.

  Screw that.

  Kent opened the back door and the squeaky screen door, its screening curled into a roll at the bottom, and stepped carefully out onto the verandah. All he could see were overgrown vines and trees.

  Maybe he needed to cross the verandah to get a better view of the river and the neighbor’s house on the left. He wasn’t sure, but he had the impression it wasn’t nearly as overgrown as this property. Then there was Jack Silver’s property. Worst-case scenario, he could stash the gun somewhere over there. Let Silver try to explain that to the authorities if it was ever found.

  Kent jerked to watchfulness when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Movement on the river. He squinted for a better look.Well, what do you know, he thought gleefully.My wife in a canoe. All alone. He cupped his hand behind his ear to pick up any sound, either Jack calling out encouragement or the dog barking. He heard nothing.

  He backed into the house, knowing he needed to rethink his plan.

  Kent picked up the video camera before he locked the lock box and carefully picked his way across the rotted floor and down the equally rotted steps, where he made his way through the gate and back out to the road. He laid the camera down and walked up the road to the Silver house. Rosie’s car sat in the driveway. He crept up behind it, half-expecting the dog to lunge at him. When nothing happened he grew bolder and made his way across the front yard. As he approached the huge oak with the mound of moss underneath, a fierce, galelike wind whipped up, pushing him backward. He stumbled, going down on one knee.What the hell is going on? He looked up at the cloudless blue sky. None of the branches on the other trees were moving.Am I caught in some kind of dry vortex? He struggled to move, but couldn’t do so on his own, the terrible wind driving him farther and farther from the tree. He could see the swing attached to one of the thick limbs swinging wildly.

  Finally, the galelike wind wound down. Kent looked around wildly to see where he was. He was in the driveway behind Rosalie’s car, hardly knowing how he’d gotten there. He felt dazed, disoriented. He eyed the expanse of lawn again with suspicion. The only way to the front verandah or the back of the property was to walk across the lawn. He felt bruised and battered as he struggled to his feet. That’s when he noticed that one of his expensive Bally shoes was missing.

  How in hell did Rosalie get to the back of the house and out to the river?His head down, Kent gritted his teeth and charged across the lawn. This time when the wind whipped up, it grabbed him and tossed him all the way back to the driveway, where he landed with a painful thump. He looked at his feet. His other shoe was missing.

  Fear, unlike anything he’d ever felt, shot through him. The swing was still moving crazily, higher than a swing should be able to go. He ran back to the vacant house, his heart pounding as he grabbed the video camera and headed for the garage.

  Sitting in his car, the door locked, he calmed down. Silver’s house must be haunted. What other explanation could there be?

  And he still had the damn gun.

  Kent hugged his arms to his chest as he sweated with fear. He lost time as he cowered in fear.

  Finally, he was able to start the car and drive up the narrow road. He had to get out of there before Rosalie returned and spotted him. For one crazy moment he thought about lying in wait somewhere and shooting her.

  Where in the hell are my shoes? If Rosalie finds them, she’ll know they’re mine.“Shit!” he fumed.Is anything ever going to go my way?

  Rosie limped her way up the path from the river. She turned to look back, knowing she’d secured the canoe and locked the boathouse. Lately, it seemed she double-checked everything. She longed for a cold drink and a tube of liniment. She had a key and knew she could go into Jack’s house if she wanted to, but she didn’t feel right about it. She did stop long enough to sit down on the bottom step to rest.

  It’s so beautiful out here, so quiet and peaceful. And safe.

  Rosie reached for the railing to pull herself to her feet. Time to head home and do her five-mile bicycle ride. She groaned. She’d do it, though. She made her way from the back of the house to the front and was about to cross the lawn when she heard the rustling sound in the big oak. She found herself smiling. “Hi, Martha! I was rowing. I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t go in the house, though. It looks like it’s going to rain.”Am I nuts? If anyone saw me talking to a tree and a swing, they’d lock me up and throw away the key.

  The swing started to move, slowly. Rosie closed her eyes, imagining Martha sitting on it, moving her legs back and forth. “I never had a swing as a child. I had a metal gym, but it wasn’t the same as areal swing like yours.” One of the lower branches waved, then dipped, as though someone was sitting on it.

  “I gotta go now, Martha. The next time I come out, tomorrow if the weather is nice, I’ll sit and talk.” The branch waved again, this time dipping lower. Rosie walked over. “Do you want me to climb on the branch? I could, you know, it’s just low enough.” Rosie watched as the branch moved even lower. She laughed as she scrambled onto the branch, her grip secure. She laughed again as the branch gently lifted upward until she was nestled in green leaves. “Oh, this is wonderful! I can see everything. Oh, oh, what’s that? Oh my God, that’s Kent! I have to get down, Martha.”

  The branch dipped and swayed as it gently bent down to the ground. Rosie jumped off and ran toward the road. She was
just in time to see the taillights of a silver-colored car turn onto the main road. Was he spying on her? Of course he was. She thought about Jack’s gun. She’d also forgotten to tell Vickie she was coming out here to River Road.Stupid, stupid, stupid!

  Rosie was almost to her car when she heard the wind whip up again and whistle through the monster oak. Mystified, she looked around, thinking she was supposed to hear or see something. She saw them then, side by side, right next to the door of her car. A pair of Bally shoes. Kent’s shoes. She should know, she’d paid for them. She hated touching them, but she picked them up, one at a time, and pitched them across the road into the underbrush. Then she had second thoughts, crossed the road, and rummaged in the brush for the shoes. She held them between her thumbs and index fingers before she tossed them onto the floor in the back of the car.

  Rosie looked over her shoulder for one last look at the angel oak. There was no wind, the leaves and branches still. The old-fashioned swing was at rest. Rosie nodded, waved, then gave a tap to the horn. She looked through the window to see the same branch she’d sat on dip and sway. She laughed, a sound of merriment. “See ya, Martha! Thanks!” she called through the open window.

  16

  Back from her early ten-mile run, Rosie showered and dressed. She forced herself to eat her unappetizing breakfast as she scrutinized her day planner. She had an appointment with her lawyer, Kent, and his lawyer today. She also had a dental appointment, and Buddy was scheduled for his rabies shot. She was undecided if she should go out to River Road later in the afternoon or not. Certainly she wasn’t going to go alone. Perhaps if Vickie could spare the time, she could coax her into going with her.

 

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