by Peggy Webb
“You are nothing like Sunny, Miss Diamond,” he said at last. “In fact, you don’t even remotely resemble her.”
“Oh-h-h,” she said, drawing out the syllable, her eyes and mouth as round as cherries. Her first impulse was to straighten him out about his manners. Land, he was as prickly as an old porcupine. He certainly could use a lesson or two in behaving himself. Then she remembered that she was a guest in his house, and where in the world would she go tonight if he threw her out? She guessed she could call Clemmie, and then wait on the street to be picked up like some common strumpet.
In the end she folded her hands in her lap and lowered her eyes to shut out his face. From now on, she decided, she’d let him do the talking. That way, she’d be sure not to make any more mistakes.
She was saved further embarrassment by the children’s entrance into the dining room. They were chattering and laughing, and Belinda had plenty to talk about with them. She remembered what it was like to be a child and interested in such things as building frog houses and making mud pies and playing hopscotch and skip-the-rope and trying to catch fireflies in the summertime.
The three of them soon had a lively conversation going that lasted all the way through the soup, though why in the world they had so many spoons just to eat soup with, Belinda couldn’t have said. She was surprised when Quincy took the soup bowl and brought more food. Land, wouldn’t it be easier to bring it all out at one time and get it over with? She’d never seen a meal take so long. She reckoned fancy folks spent half their time waiting for their food.
Though it was nice having the time to sit around the table and talk. She believed she was partaking of what was called a “leisure meal,” sort of like the leisure suits that were so popular way back in the seventies. Charlie Crocket still had one. He was partial to vintage clothing. She wished Charlie could see her now. Wouldn’t he bust a button?
“Did you really have a pet firefly?” Mark asked, bringing Belinda’s attention back to the subject at hand.
“I sure did. Called him Wayne. I was living down in South Carolina at the time. Every evening I’d go out in the yard and say, ‘Come on over here, Wayne. I want to talk to you.’“
“And did he come?” Betsy asked.
“Most times he would, but sometimes he was stubborn and wouldn’t come until I promised to tell him a story.”
Betsy clapped her hands. “Will you tell us a story?”
Belinda glanced at Reeve. It was practically the first time she’d looked at him during the whole meal. His temper had improved a little. She guessed it was due to the roast beef. It was the best she’d ever had. Anyhow, his black eyes didn’t look like they could cut you in half at twenty paces, and if she looked real close and used her imagination, she might even say he was trying to smile. She smiled back.
“Perhaps Miss Diamond will consider telling you a story after dinner, children. Dinnertime is for conversation, not stories.”
A fat lot of conversation he’d thrown into the pot. Belinda took back her smile. It was wasted on him. What a shame. A man that handsome and with two beautiful kids and a big fancy house to boot ought to have a lot to smile about. She turned away from him and back to Betsy and Mark. Now there were two little people who knew how to make a body feel at home.
“After dinner, how about if we sit down together on that big old couch I saw in your living room and I tell you six stories?”
“That’s kind of you, Miss Diamond,” Reeve said.
“Kindness is easy when you like somebody. I like Betsy and Mark. Quincy, too. She’s nice.”
Reeve noticed that his name was left off the roster of people she liked. Funny that such a silly thing should bother him. Of course, he had given her cause not to like him, overreacting as he had to that business about the portrait. If he could undo what he’d said and start all over, he would. But he supposed it was just as well that he was excluded from her list of nice people. It was best to keep a distance from this woman who already had him thinking that cheap pantyhose with rhinestone hearts looked good.
“I’m delighted you’re so appreciative of my family.”
“You don’t look delighted,” Belinda blurted, and then she clapped her hand over her mouth. Now she’d done it.
For a moment Reeve looked as if he had been told an earthquake was fixing to happen right under his chair and carry him off to Glory Land, and then he started to laugh. Belinda was so relieved she nearly said her prayer of thanks out loud.
“I suppose I have been somber. Quincy sometimes calls me a bear.” Reeve inclined his head toward Belinda. “My apologies, Miss Diamond.”
“Lordy, if you don’t stop calling me Miss Diamond, I’m not ever going to forgive you for being an old sore-tailed bear.”
“Belinda it is, then.”
“Well, now. That’s better. It makes me feel perky again with everybody smiling and happy.” She picked up her fork and speared a piece of pecan pie. When it was halfway to her mouth, she paused to smile at Reeve. “Don’t you think life is sometimes so grand that if it gets any better you’ll just swoon?”
“I haven’t given the quality of life much consideration lately.”
“I guess a man like you gets so busy counting his money he can’t take the time to swoon.”
Reeve chuckled again. “You’re probably right.”
Quincy came in to whisk away the dessert plates.
“We’ll have coffee in the den, Quincy,” Reeve told her.
Belinda stood up. “I’ll help you, Quincy.”
“Thank you, honey, but I been bringin’ Mr. Reeve his coffee since he was knee-high, and they’re some things don’t need changin’.” Quincy waved her apron at them.
“Now ya’ll get on in the den and let old Quincy do her job. Scat now.”
Reeve continued his study of his guest as he escorted her into the den. He had watched her all through the meal, silently marveling at the great pleasure she took in simple things. When she had talked about her childhood with Betsy and Mark, her face had lit up. Her pleasure was genuine, too. Reeve had dealt with people long enough to know the difference between falseness and sincerity.
And now, entering his den, Belinda was running her hands over his Chinese lacquered cabinets as if she had walked into the castle of one of her fairy tales. What was more, his children were enchanted with her. Her wonder infected them with high spirits, so that their laughter caroled through the house.
“Won’t you sit down, Belinda? Quincy will be in shortly with the coffee.” Reeve sat in a wing chair that afforded him a view of the entire room.
Belinda sat in the middle of the sofa, adjusting her skirt and crossing her legs. Then she leaned down and smoothed her hands over her calves, as if checking to see if her hose were in place. If the gesture had been calculated, Reeve would have been appalled. But it was totally artless—and so unexpectedly sensuous he felt the heat rise in his body. Her hair hung in a shining curtain down the side of her face as she bent over her leg.
Suddenly she parted her silken curtain of hair and glanced up at him through the folds of gold. “Are they straight now?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My rhinestone hearts. Are they straight?”
“Um...yes.”
“Good. When I’m all spiffied up, I like to stay that way, else what was the use of getting that way in the first place? Don’t you agree?”
“Indeed.” At the moment he would have agreed with anything she said, for his mind was still on that perfect row of hearts glittering down the side of her slim legs. He swung his attention to her hands. They were at rest now in her lap, but the way she had run them down her legs had been mesmerizing. In fact, she always used her hands in a sensuous manner. The way she touched his car, the way she touched his furniture, the way she reached up from time to time and smoothed her hair made him crazy inside. He must be going mad.
Reeve was saved when Quincy came in with the coffee. Belinda added two spoons of sugar and lots of
cream to hers. He should have guessed she’d like it that way.
“Betsy... Mark...” Belinda smiled at his children, curled on either side of her. “Are you ready for your stories now?”
“Yes,” they said at the same time.
“Tell the bestest one first,” Betsy added.
Quincy, who joined them for coffee, leaned forward in her chair, as fascinated as Reeve’s children by the folksy tales Belinda was weaving. Reeve knew he should go. Betsy and Mark were well entertained, and Quincy would watchdog them until bedtime, when he was called upon to tuck them in. Mountains of work waited in his office, and he needed to catch up, for tomorrow he would be interviewing nannies. But he was under Belinda’s spell. Her stories were not mere tales to entertain his children, although he supposed that’s how she perceived them; they were clues to the philosophy of the storyteller. The invincibility of the human spirit shone through all of them. They were stories of courage and bravery and the bright shining light of a spirit that could be neither daunted nor tamed.
Reeve was so caught up in Belinda and her stories that he didn’t even note the passing of the hours. It was Quincy who finally announced it was way past the children’s bedtime. They hugged Belinda and thanked her for the stories, then followed Quincy dutifully to their bedrooms.
Left alone with his guest, Reeve found himself still reluctant to part from her.
“You seem to have a way with children, Belinda.”
“Lordy, I ought to. After Mother left I practically raised my two younger sisters. We never could afford a television set, so I had to do something to keep them occupied and out of trouble. You might say I learned to tell stories in self-defense.”
Reeve refilled their coffee cups and watched as Belinda loaded hers with milk and sugar. She noticed him watching.
“I have a sweet tooth,” she confessed. “I like sweet things so well it’s a wonder I’m not big as a barrel. I guess I burn off all the calories by talking so much.”
“Have you given any thought to what sort of work you will do here in Tupelo?”
“Oh, I can do just about anything—sew, cook, clean, type, cut hair. You might say I’m a jack-of-all-trades.”
Any other woman in her position—homeless and probably almost penniless—would have been cringing with fear at her prospects, but Belinda remained unflappable. While he realized that her future was no concern of his, he didn’t feel right just giving her a night’s lodging, then letting her walk out his door tomorrow.
She had said she could type. Perhaps he could make room for her in his secretarial pool.
“You have computer training?” he asked.
“No. Taught myself to type on Daddy’s old computer. The hunt-and-peck system, he called it. That was way back when we were living in Louisiana and he was having a whirl at being a newspaper man.”
“I see.” Strike Belinda Diamond from his secretarial pool Her hunt-and-peck system would give Gloria Grubbs a heart attack; and he’d have to hire a new senior business manager. He sipped his coffee, deep in thought.
“Well, now, look here...” Belinda set her coffee aside and crossed the room to stand in front of his chair. “You get that worried look right off your face. I sure don’t want you thinking you have to try to find me a job, just because you were kind enough to let me stay the night in your house. Besides—” she paused, lifting her chin in a defiant gesture that set her hair a-swing. “—I’ve come to town a brand-new woman. I’m done with depending on somebody else. From now on I’m in charge of my own life.”
Having finished her declaration of independence, she walked back to the sofa, her skirt dancing around her slim legs. It was a jaunty little walk that set his pulse racing. He glanced toward the double doors. Quincy had closed them behind her, as if she expected Reeve to need privacy with Belinda Diamond.
The doors were massive; the house was well built. A full-scale war could be conducted in each room with absolute assurance that the battle would not be heard in any other part of the house.
If Quincy could read his thoughts now, she would be delighted. Right now he was considering exactly how it would feel to hold Belinda Diamond in his arms, to run his hands through her silky hair and down the length of her rhinestone-shimmering legs.
Thank God she had said she could take care of herself. The sooner he got out of his den with Belinda, the better off he would be.
“I applaud your independence, Belinda. If you will allow me, I’ll drive you into town tomorrow, perhaps to the employment office.”
“Shoot, if you can just plant my feet on Main Street, I can have me a job in no time flat. I don’t mind work, and people find that out quick enough. I never have had any trouble finding me a job, no matter where I am.”
“Agreed. Main Street it is.” Reeve stood up, relieved that his evening with Belinda Diamond had drawn to a close. She stood, too, taking her cue from him.
“I’m going to tuck the children in, and then I have work to do here in my office. Please feel free to indulge yourself. I have a vast library, and the television is here.” He pulled aside the doors of an entertainment center to demonstrate. “There are DVDs - mostly Walt Disney, I’m afraid—if you want to watch a movie. And, of course, I have quite a collection of music—jazz, classical, blues.”
Belinda looked at the entertainment center with a certain longing in her eyes, then shrugged.
“Oh, well... I’m sort of tuckered out. It was a long ride on the bus.”
“Of course.” He escorted her from the den, then turned to her in the hallway. “I have some business to take care of here at home in the morning. If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll drive you into town after I have finished.”
“Thank you, Reeve.” She offered her slim hand, and he held it a bit too long. Then he watched as she climbed the curving staircase to her bedroom.
He didn’t know why he had thought she needed someone to teach her how to walk. There was a daredevil sort of elegance to her carriage, as if she were confident she was someone special. At the top of the stairs she turned slowly, smiling.
“Goodnight, Reeve.”
“Good night, Belinda.”
She lifted her slim hand until it was touching her lips, then ever so slowly, she blew him a kiss. The beauty of the gesture mesmerized him. He stood in the hallway gazing upward long after she had disappeared from the top of the stairs. And then he found himself touching his own face as if her kiss had actually landed there.
Chapter Three
Reeve had started his interviews at eight o’clock that morning and already he had eliminated five nannies. He was beginning to despair. He turned his full attention to the current candidate, Miss Caroline Upchurch. So far, she was doing well in the interview. She had the right background, the right education.
“How do you discipline children, Miss Upchurch?” he asked suddenly, treading into treacherous waters.
“I slap their faces.”
“You slap their faces?”
“Mr. Lawrence, there’s no need to roar. My hearing is perfectly sound.”
“It’s not your hearing I question, Miss Upchurch, it’s your judgment. You may go.”
“But you didn’t even ask about my background in art.”
“Miss Upchurch, under no circumstances would I entrust my children to the care of a woman who believes in physical violence—even if you had painted the Sistine Chapel.” He stood up, dismissing her.
She sniffed as she walked haughtily toward his office door. When she opened it, he caught a glimpse of Belinda Diamond, his first of the morning. She was wearing denims and a bright red shirt, and she was apparently engaged with his children in some sort of game. Betsy and Mark’s squeals of laughter echoed through his open door.
He followed Miss Upchurch and stood leaning in his doorway. His son and daughter were hopping on the marble squares in the hallway, and Belinda was cheering them on. They didn’t see him at first, and he enjoyed watching them.
Suddenly Belinda
turned. Her face lit in a huge smile at the sight of him. “ Hi!” She waved, then motioned him over. “Come join us.”
“What are you playing?” He left his place at the door to stand beside her. She smelled like roses.
“Hopscotch. Your hall is the perfect place. It already has squares laid out and everything. We didn’t even have to draw them off with chalk.”
“You have chalk?”
“Sure. Got it from Mark’s room.”
“And you were going to draw squares in the hall?”
She put her hands on her hips and squared her chin. “It wipes right off. And anyhow, it’s raining outside. The children can’t play out in the rain.”
“Hmm...” He considered her closely. She took his scrutiny in stride, looking him squarely in the eye. Belinda Diamond was not a woman who was easily intimidated.
Quite suddenly Reeve was overtaken with an idea so simple he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it sooner.
“Would you mind stepping into my office?”
“Look, if it’s about the chalk—”
“Forget the chalk—carry on, children. Belinda will be back soon.” He was scrupulously careful not to touch her as he escorted her into his office. But even so, the fragrance of roses washed over his senses, reminding him of long walks in the moonlight on summer nights when the roses were in full bloom. He couldn’t remember the last walk he’d had on a summer evening.
They stepped into his office, and he closed the door behind them. Belinda let out a big sigh. Thank goodness, he wasn’t upset about the hopscotch game on his fancy marble floor. And whatever he wanted to talk to her about couldn’t be all that bad, not in a room that looked as good as this one. It was homey and comfortable, not as elegant and forbidding as his dining room and his den. There were lots of books on the wall and window shades at the windows, drawn up so she could see the rain tapping against the panes. His desk chair looked cozy and big enough for two.
She slid a sideways glance at Reeve. My, he was wonderfully made. What would it be like to have a man like that all to yourself in a room like this? The first thing she would do was cuddle up to his broad chest in that big old desk chair. The thought made her smile.