At Your Command

by Christine W. Murphy

  She jerked open the door, ready to throw the next gigolo down the street. She almost punched Chet in the nose.

  Adrenaline still pumping through her veins, she couldn't quite manage a civil greeting. "What are you doing here?"

  "What kind of greeting is that for a jilted fiancé." Chet brushed past her, into the house.

  Tom had just reached the bottom of the stairs. Chet eyed him up and down before turning back to Maggie. "Is this the guy?"

  "This is Tom. Tom, this is Chet Atley."

  Tom crossed his arms over his chest and rocked on his heels. Maggie got the distinct impression he was planning to turn Chet into a toad.

  Maggie could only fit so much craziness into a day, and hers had just reached the limit. She had to put a stop to this now. "What do you think you're doing here, Chet?"

  "I know what I'm doing here, Margaret. I've been worried about you. I understand your penchant for taking in lost strays. Birth order, a strict father, and all that, but you've gone too far. Taking in crazies off the street is dangerous. You're not being responsible."

  "Tom is not crazy."

  "I don't hear him protesting."

  Tom stopped rocking and tilted his head to study Chet. "Why don't I fix us all some tea?"

  Maggie held her breath until he left the room. She didn't know what she'd do if he started with his smoke and glowing tricks in front of Chet.

  Like a visiting potentate, Chet acknowledged Tom with a nod and settled into the largest chair in the room. Had he always behaved so arrogantly and she'd never noticed?

  Tom spent exactly two minutes in the kitchen before he emerged with a full silver service compete with tea and tiny sandwiches.

  The minute she got Tom alone, she was going to issue a command. No magic, absolutely none, without her permission.

  He set the tray on the coffee table. "You will pour," he said to Maggie, and then returned to standing, his back against the staircase.

  Great. She was stuck in the living room with two arrogant asses while her mother was kissing a phantom in the garden. What else could go wrong?

  Chet was giving Tom looks he had no right to give. "Did I interrupt something?" Chet asked.

  Tom responded before Maggie could beat him to it. "We were going to the bedroom to discuss a matter of some intimacy. I have always found Maggie to be most responsible and responsive."

  Chet's cheeks flamed red. Maggie could almost find this funny. Almost. Having Tom fly to her rescue made her feel cared for and angry at the same time.

  Chet refused to look at Tom. "I meant the food. Have I interrupted some social event? You seem prepared for guests."

  Improvise, girl, you can do this. "We're having a little party. Mom has an old friend visiting."

  Chet picked up the bone china cup and examined it before he drank. God, she hoped it wasn't Ming dynasty or something. That was just the sort of thing Chet would know about. "We've brought out Mom's old things to use one more time before we pack them away. She's moving to a smaller place."

  "I didn't come here to discuss your mother."

  Maggie held out a cup to Tom. He was getting back at her for dumping his tea. The pot spewed the heady aroma of cloves and oranges. This time she detected a pinch of cinnamon.

  Maggie breathed deeply. You don't hate this man. He has done nothing to you. You're the one who dumped him. "Why did you come? I thought we said everything that needed to be said."

  "On answering machines and letters. Despite your past actions, I do care what happens to you. You take in some crazy off the street--"

  His condescending tone sent pain spiking across her forehead. "Chet, I won't have you talk that way about my guest. You have a Ph.D. in psychology for godsake."

  "All right, this paranoid, schizophrenic, sociopath, whatever. I haven't had time to diagnose him, and from what I've heard from your mother, you haven't professional distance in this case."

  "Tom is not a case. He's...he's a friend. He's between jobs and helping Mother and me get the house ready for sale."

  "What does Tom do when he's not sponging off gullible Midwesterners?"

  Tom returned his cup to the tray and retreated to the wall with a fist full of sandwiches. "I grant wishes."

  Chet growled, "Wonderful," and reached for a sandwich, too.

  Evidently they weren't content to fight over her, they were competing for the food as well.

  "So what do you have to say for yourself?" Chet moved the sandwich tray closer to his side and ate another.

  "About what?" she asked.

  "Taking up housekeeping with a nut case."

  Getting Chet to behave in a civilized manner was impossible. At least Tom was behaving better than usual. Still feeling smug about granting what he thought was her mother's wish. Just like a man to think every problem could be solved with sex. What was her mother doing in the garden?

  "We do not sleep in the same bedroom," Tom said, finishing off the last of his sandwiches.

  Finally, someone was on her side.

  "A survey of this village indicates that would be contrary to custom for an unmarried woman."

  Good so far, Tom. The language is a little archaic, but keep going.

  "When I need rest, I use the second bedroom upstairs. We don't sleep very often, of course. Maggie is quite accomplished at making love. The best I've had in several millennia."

  Oh, God, no.

  Chet choked on his sandwich. While she pounded his back, Tom conjured a glass of water, obviously not willing to put in the effort required to walk to the kitchen.

  "Don't you like peacock tongue?" Tom asked, his eyes wide and innocent.

  "What?" Chet and Maggie asked in one voice.

  "The sandwiches. Peacock tongue. An acquired taste, I'm told."

  "Tom, you did that on purpose." She continued to pound Chet on the back. Boy, was she glad she'd been too distracted to be hungry. Think of something crunchy. "They're tuna or celery or something, I'm sure. We don't have peacock tongue in Minnesota."

  Just then her mother came into the room, her phantom lover in tow. As always, Mother chose to ignore the chaos around her and pretended nothing was wrong. "Oh, my, Chet, how nice to see you. What are you doing here?"

  Tom answered for Chet who couldn't stop coughing. "My Maggie has already asked that question. He doesn't seem to know."

  Glenn stood calmly munching the last of the sandwiches. "Peacock! I haven't had these in years."

  Chet looked like he was going to throw up. This from the man who put bananas on his pizza. Mother was glowing. Chet was green. Tom and the result of his incantation were discussing Middle East cuisine like old buddies. Oh my, indeed.

  "Margaret." Whenever her mother used her given name instead of Maggie, she knew it was important.

  With a final pat on Chet's back--okay, she hit him--Maggie left him to fend for himself on the couch.

  Her mother patted the stuffed chair next to her. "I do want to explain."

  "No, Mom, I'm the one who's sorry. I don't really know how to explain this--"

  "I'm not sorry about anything, Margaret Yates."

  Maggie blinked. She rarely saw her mother indignant. The emotion didn't suit her.

  "Your Tom did a very good thing."

  Maggie looked at him. He stood a few feet away, talking with Glenn. They'd evidently both visited Turkey, but Maggie doubted they'd run into each other there. Probably hadn't visited in the same millennium. Unless Glenn was some creature you won't want to meet in a dark alley. Would he turn into a wolf at the next full moon or did he like to suck blood out of old retired ladies for a pastime? "Tom did?"

  "Yes, he did. I've been thinking a lot about Glenn lately. You don't forget your first love. I don't think I would have found the courage to go looking for him."

  "You actually know Glenn?"

  "Of course I know him. Didn't Tom tell you?"

  Maggie turned to glare at Tom again. He shrugged and sipped his tea. "No, he didn't," she said.
r />   Tom gave her a little wave and mouthed I tried.

  Tried? Sure he tried, after the man was already here and kissing her mother in the garden. If Chet hadn't interrupted them, Tom would still be trying to distract her. Explaining, at least giving sensible explanations to anything, wasn't his long suit.

  "Glenn and I met when I was stationed in Japan, before I met your father. We were very much in love, but there was a...well, let's say an impediment."

  What had Mother said? Some people can't marry their one true love, some people have to settle.

  "We couldn't marry and I wanted a family, so we went our separate ways. But I never forgot him." Her mother gave Glenn a look Maggie had never seen there before.

  Glenn looked up just then. When their eyes met, Maggie knew Tom had kept his promise. He'd made her mother happy.

  If her mother remembered him, Glenn must be real, not some figment of Tom's imagination. "How did Tom locate him?"

  Her mother got up from her chair. "Glenn, you take my place here. I'll let you tell that story."

  "But..." Maggie protested, but her mother had already crossed the room to greet Chet, who now calmly drank his water. Tom seemed to have disappeared. She hoped not in a cloud of smoke.

  Glenn sat beside her, but couldn't stop staring at her mother. He turned toward her abruptly. "I'm sorry. I'm still having trouble believing I'm really here."

  Had Tom snatched him without any warning? Had he been at work or something and then materialized at their front door? Thank heavens he hadn't been in the shower. That would have been the last straw--another naked man popping up unexpectedly.

  "I...I understand the feeling. Tom can have that effect on people."

  "Tom? Oh, yes, your friend. I don't know how I'll be able to thank you both for getting us together."

  Now Glenn was staring at her. Maggie shifted on the chair, not certain where to look.

  "Sorry. I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. It's just that you look so much like your mother. It's hard to believe she has a grown daughter now. She looks just the way she did when we first met thirty years ago."

  Maggie squinted at him. She had seen old pictures of her mother in her Navy uniform--short black hair, beautiful smile. Her face had wrinkles now and she was at least forty pounds heavier. Maybe what they said about your eyes going first was true. Maybe he was trying to butter her up.

  What did this man want? Why was he here? Besides being whisked away by Tom from whatever it was he'd been doing. "Mother has had a very happy life since then."

  "Yes, so she's been telling me." He glanced across the room at her, a wistful expression returning. "It's what she always wanted, children. I'm only surprised she didn't have more."

  Maggie almost asked him if he had any children, then realized that must have been the impediment. Glenn couldn't have children. Unbidden, the thought occurred, can Tom?

  "Sorry, I guess your mother forgot the full introductions. The name is Glenn Howard. Your mother is lucky to have you still here with her."

  "Just temporarily."

  "Yes?"

  "Well, the circumstances don't really matter--"

  "I imagine they have something to do with the two young gentlemen glowering at each other."

  Maggie grew warm. She was not making a good impression. At least Tom had stopped spouting elaborate explanations about their sleeping arrangements.

  Before she could change the subject, Glenn did it for her. "Has your mother ever mentioned me?"

  Had she? Indirectly, Maggie supposed, with all this talk lately about true love. But that wasn't possible. If her mother had really been in love with Glenn, she would have married him, despite the fact that he couldn't have children. It all seemed clear now. She had never been in love with Glenn, she just wanted to think so now that Daddy was gone. She was afraid to be alone.

  "No, she's never mentioned you. Never."

  Her emphatic denial didn't seem to bother or surprise him. "No, I suppose not. Well, I'll leave filling in the past to your mother if she wants to." He took her hand in his and patted it softly. "I just wanted to tell you how glad I am that you asked Tom to find me."

  He made eye contact with Sarah then. As one the two rose and met by the stairway, leaning against the rails.

  Chet had gone to sulk in the kitchen and Tom sat on the couch, sipping tea, looking smugly satisfied with his work. Maggie joined him and together they watched the couple. They stood holding hands, Sarah's eyes alight while she talked. Maggie could hear an occasional word, her name, her brothers'. She was talking about her children. Maggie couldn't tell what Glenn was saying. He had his back to her. Tears ran down Sarah's cheeks.

  When Glenn reached out to brush them away, Maggie felt a finger on her own wet cheek. She hadn't realized she was crying.

  Tom gripped her arms and turned her to face him. "I didn't know it would make you so unhappy. I will send him away at once."

  She had never seen such a look of pain on anyone's face. "Don't you dare. I have the feeling you did a very good thing."

  "You're not angry?" The look of pain eased. "Why are you crying?"

  Maggie shook her head. She had no idea why. More confusing, a single tear stained Tom's smooth cheek.

  "I didn't know you could cry," she said.

  Together they wiped the tear from his face.

  "Neither did I."

  Chapter 8

  SEVERAL MORNINGS later, sitting across the table from Chet, Maggie looked at their relationship in a different light. Maybe because Tom continued to sleep down the hall and she could think more clearly, or her mother's talk about this "true love" thing had her distracted. More and more it seemed to Maggie, she had been suffering from pre-wedding jitters when she made that awful phone call to Chet.

  That crazy day when both Yates women met unexpected male visitors at their door had past. Two more days followed and none of the male callers seemed willing to leave. Officially, Glenn stayed at the motel down on Highway 10, but he'd slept on the sofa twice.

  Making a family, being stable, responsible, that was what was important to a marriage. After all, her mother had turned her back on "true love" to get it, and she never expressed regret about her decision, even now, while she was mooning over Glenn.

  That first night, when it became obvious no one was leaving the house, Tom had gallantly offered Chet the larger bedroom upstairs. Of course, Tom had to add that he would find sharing the single-bed with My Maggie no sacrifice at all.

  Chet surprised her by not rising to the bait. He drove ten miles each way to the same motel where Glenn had a room, and he still beat Tom to breakfast. Maggie had never had such ardent pursuers. Considering one was a mythological creature who would, no doubt, disappear before the end of the year, her choice seemed clear. She almost forgot why she'd called off the wedding in the first place. Almost. An unsettled feeling remained in her stomach when she connected the words Chet and wedding.

  Pair Chet and work or Chet and breakfast, and she was perfectly fine. Today, he sat talking with her and Shelley Summers while Tom played with Andy in the backyard. No telling where her mother and Glenn had gone off to. Maggie could only hope that if they were still acting like teenagers, they had the common sense to stay indoors.

  "Tom certainly has a way with children," Shelley said. "Does he work with you in California, Dr. Atly?"

  Maggie had to admire the way Chet ground his teeth without making a sound. "No, Mrs. Summers, he does not. I think Tom's childlike ways come naturally. He doesn't need training."

  Maggie couldn't resist. "What a nice thing for you to say, Chet."

  "Yes, well..." Chet rattled the papers in front of him before giving Shelley his most formal I-am-doctor-you-are-parent look. "You understand I'm speaking as an outsider. I don't make official judgments without following certain procedures. I meet with both parents, when possible, as well as with the child."

  "Oh, I understand, Dr. Atly. No need to bring Mr. Summers into this. I appreciate y
ou looking over Andy's records unofficially and giving me a second opinion. Not that I don't have complete faith in Maggie's, I mean Margaret's, judgment."

  Maggie took Shelley's hand before she could do any more damage. She'd shredded two paper napkins to bits and had started on the tablecloth. The poor woman appeared moments from falling apart and moments from giving birth.

  "I'm glad to hear that, Mrs. Summers, because I agree with Maggie, as far as her assessment goes, and neither of us can make any reliable recommendations without some testing."

  "Do you really think that's necessary? Andrew says--"

  "Your son is very bright. Anyone can tell that much by talking with him. But in another month he will complete the second grade and functionally, he can't read."

  "But he gets passing grades."

  "Yes, because he is highly skilled at compensating behaviors."

  "Compensating behave--"

  "He cheats, Shelley." Maggie smiled when she said it, and patted her hand. "He's very good at it, too. It only means he's very bright and he wants to succeed."

  Chet winced at her assessment. "My colleague has an interesting way of putting things, but essentially she is correct. This could mean he's developing more slowly than his classmates and will catch up in time, but we need to find out if there's an underlying organic cause for his--"

  Maggie broke in to Chet's droning. "We need to see if he has a learning disability."

  "Oh." Shelley looked relieved. Then she started in on twisting the edge of the tablecloth again. "Andrew says they don't do that testing at the school. We would have to apply for service out of system for that."

  "That shouldn't be difficult. Someone at Andy's school will know how. Certainly your husband does. You did say he was the principal at the high school?"

  Shelley nodded, then stood to look out the kitchen window. "Really, I should be taking Andy and going soon."

  Chet ignored her distress. "Then, there's the matter of Andy's anger. I'm not so much worried about how he expresses it, as I am by the frequency and duration. What was he like as a toddler? Did he have frequent temper tantrums?"