by Peggy Webb
“Belinda, I want you to understand my motives and to understand why I took the approach I did.”
“All right. I’ll listen.” She would try to act as graceful as possible under the circumstances, and when he had finished she might as well go ahead and tell him she was leaving. No use putting it off until tomorrow. Tomorrow wouldn’t change a thing. She’d still be loving Reeve, and he’d still not be loving her back.
“I’m a businessman and I’m known for making quick decisions, then following through.”
She could tell he was more comfortable now that he was discussing business matters, and that made her mad all over again. She was merely a business matter to him. She wadded a piece of her robe in her fist and squeezed it so hard she guessed she was ruining the fabric.
“That’s how I approached this situation, Belinda—as a business decision.” He carefully avoided calling her a project. “I sincerely thought I was doing the best thing for you, as well as for Mark and Betsy.”
She hoped she didn’t cry, though it was a real possibility.
“You see,” he continued, “if Sunny had lived she would have taught the children about the arts, about music and literature and theater and dance and great paintings. It occurred to me that you would enjoy exposure to the arts, too, and at the same time I would be helping Betsy and Mark.”
Belinda thought for a long time before she answered him. What would happen if she stayed? She had said she wanted to be a new woman and had even given herself a new name, but a person was more than a name. Reeve was offering to make her a new woman in ways that other people would notice.
“Does the offer still stand?” she asked quietly.
His smile was beautiful to see. And it broke her heart. Why couldn’t he smile like that about her instead of about his project?
“Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?” he asked.
“Yes, I’ve changed my mind.” She stood up so she could be tall and look him in the eye. Her daddy had taught her to look a person straight in the eye when you wanted him to know you meant business.
“Great,” he said. “We’ll start Monday, if that’s all right with you.”
“Monday’s fine.”
“I’ll notify all the tutors.”
“No.”
“No?”
Land, what had she done now? She was arguing with him again, and he was her boss. She reckoned the devil had grabbed hold of her brain, or maybe it was love making her act so foolish. But what did it matter? It was too late to take her words back now. She might as well say what had just popped into her head.
“You’re the one who wants me to learn all those artsy things—I guess you’ll be the best one to teach me.”
“You want me to be your tutor?”
“Why not? You want me to be the pupil.”
She figured he’d fire her now. She folded her hands across her stomach, waiting for the ax to fall. The room was so quiet she could hear the minutes marching by.
Suddenly Reeve laughed. Belinda felt as if a big rock had been lifted off her chest.
“Why not?’’ he said, as much to himself as to her. “Why not, indeed?”
“Does that mean yes?”
“Yes. Be ready for your first lesson on Monday evening.”
“I will.”
After he left, she turned around and faced the mirror to see if she looked any different. She didn’t; it was the same old Belinda staring back at her. It seemed to her that women who had completely lost their minds ought to show it in some way, develop warts on their nose or pointed eyebrows or something to let the rest of the world know so they could run like rabbits.
She walked toward her bed, got under the covers and sighed. How was she ever going to take lessons from Reeve without showing her love?
She switched off the lamp, then just lay beneath the cool sheets staring at a patch of moonlight on the ceiling. On the other hand, at least she would be able to see him. If she couldn’t have him, seeing him would be the next best thing.
o0o
Reeve left Belinda’s bedroom, secretly delighted with the turn of events. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of being her tutor in the first place. It was logical. He was here, and he knew exactly what he wanted the finished product to be like. Why trust Belinda to the hands of strangers?
Tomorrow he would outline his plan for her transformation. When he had finished with her, Belinda Diamond would be the toast of Tupelo.
o0o
From: Belinda
To: Janet, Catherine, Bea, Joanna, Molly, Clemmie
Re: Good news, bad news
Everybody has gone to church, so I’m here on this fabulous front porch with my laptop. The bad news is that I’ve fallen head over heels in love with my boss, who only sees me as a nanny. The good news is that he also sees I have a brain, and he’s going to be my teacher. It will be a sort of private finishing school. I’m excited to get the opportunity to better myself. Still, my heart is breaking, and I don’t know what to do about that.
XO
Belinda
From: Molly
To: Belinda, Janet, Catherine, Bea, Joanna, Clemmie
Re: A Bright Idea
If this man thinks he can break your heart and get by with it, he’s in for a big surprise! From what daddy said, Reeve Lawrence is used to getting everything he wants. What he needs is to think he can’t have you, Belinda! Go out with other men! I know a ton in Tupelo. All I have to do is snap my fingers, and you’ll have so many cute guys taking you out, it’ll make Reeve’s head spin!
Hugs,
Molly
From: Joanna
To: Belinda, Molly, Janet, Catherine, Bea, Clemmie
Re: The Plan
OH, I LOVE IT!!! You have a great figure, Belinda. Show it off. Let Reeve see what he’s missing!!! Hey, Molly, what about that guy you used to date, the body builder? He was HOT!!!
BIG HUGS!
Joanna
From: Clemmie
To: Belinda, Molly, Joanna, Janet, Catherine, Bea
Re: Another thought
I’m the last one to give advice about men, but I do know about independence. You need to drive, Belinda. I’m going to come over to Tupelo and teach you how. Just name the weekend you’ll be free.
Much love,
Clemmie
From: Janet
To: Belinda, Molly, Joanna, Clemmie, Catherine, Bea
Re: Finishing School
What qualifies Reeve Lawrence to think he can personally oversee your education!!!
XO
Janet
From: Catherine
To: Belinda, Molly, Joanna, Clemmie, Janet, Bea
Re: Broken heart
Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry your heart is broken. You know, Molly’s plan just might work. Take it from one who lived with the expert on manipulation. That may be the only useful tool Mother gave me.
The education idea sounds intriguing, too. Janet, I’ve seen wealthy, successful men in New Orleans who are better qualified to teach the fine art of living than some of the finishing school mistresses I’ve known. Go for it, Belinda!
XOXO
Catherine
From: Bea
To: Belinda, Molly, Joanna, Janet, Clemmie, Catherine
Re: My Two Cents
I like the plan, and I like the bizarre education! Kick butt, Belinda!
Hugs,
Bea
o0o
On Monday evening while Belinda supervised the children’s bedtime preparations, Reeve waited in the den. He could hardly wait to get started.
When she came through the door, he nearly fell off his chair. What was that thing she was wearing? It looked like one of those skimpy outfits he’d seen on the Miss America Pageant Quincy was so fond of watching.
She sat down and crossed her legs, her long and lovely legs.
“Well, Teach, the children are in bed. Let’s get started.”
He cleared his throat and tried to concentrat
e on the business at hand.
“I’m going to take a scattergun approach to your lessons, Belinda.”
She clutched her heart. “Do anything you want, master, just don’t throw me in the briar patch.” Her imitation of Brer Rabbit was perfect. And it gave Reeve his first glimpse of the way to successful teaching. Apparently Belinda was a great mimic and had an ear for language. He would not lecture her; he would involve her.
“This area is rich with the arts, Belinda. Tupelo has ballet, symphony, community theater and an excellent art gallery. We will take advantage of every performance and every exhibit. Memphis is only a hundred miles away. The Orpheum often has great productions.”
“That sounds like fun, not lessons.”
“Learning can be fun.” Reeve stood up and began to pace. “But don’t be fooled. We will discuss each artist, each composer, each play, each ballet.”
Belinda looked rapt. Or perhaps she just couldn’t breath in that tight little top.
“At home we will concentrate on reading. I’ve made up a list for you, two books a week. You’ll find all the material here in my library. If you discover you need more time, let me know. We’ll work it out. Also, the books that you have already read we’ll cross off the list.”
Belinda crossed her legs and watched, astonished, as Reeve passed a hand over his face. Good Lord, was Molly’s plan that easy?
“Poetry is meant to be read aloud.” He stared at her legs a minute and then cleared his throat. “We’ll start tonight with the poems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning.”
He opened a slim volume of poems and started reading. But he decided towering over her was wrong and so he sat down beside her. His first mistake. How could he read with her ripe plums on such enticing display?
He cleared his throat and continued reading. She was leaning close to him, now, so close he could see the perfect little vee of her cleavage.
“ ‘How do I love thee? Let me count the ways,’“ he read. At that moment he looked into Belinda’s eyes. His heart kicked hard against his ribs. Like a man in a dream, he slowly closed the book.
“It’s getting late,” he said. “We’ll finish this poem tomorrow night.”
After she had left the room, he sat for a long time gazing at the closed door. Reeve didn’t often indulge in self-analysis, but it didn’t take much to know what had happened in his den tonight. The love poems had become much too personal.
He got up and carefully placed the book back on the shelf. Then he put on a CD—Tchaikovsky’s “Pathetique.” It had been one of Sunny’s favorite symphonies. The magnificent music soothed Reeve and helped him put the evening into perspective.
He was a man without a woman, a lonely man. And Belinda was a beautiful, desirable young woman. It was only natural that he should imagine he had directed the love poems to her.
He hadn’t done that, though. He and Sunny had often sat side by side on the sofa on warm summer evenings, taking turns reading the words of Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Reading her work aloud this evening had brought all those memories back. He hadn’t really been reading them to Belinda; he had been reliving the past.
Having rationalized his behavior, Reeve felt much better. Everything in his life was exactly the way he wanted it now: Belinda was a good nanny; the children were happy; there was a stability and sense of permanence in his home. He would do nothing to upset that balance—nothing.
Just to make certain that he kept that promise to himself, he ripped apart tomorrow’s lesson plans—the love sonnets of Shakespeare—and substituted T.S. Eliot’s “The Wasteland.”
Chapter Eight
The next morning when Reeve summoned Belinda to the den on the intercom she was so excited she forgot to put her assets on display. When she walked in and saw him standing beside the mantle with a perfectly lovely, perfectly elegant woman, her hopes fell.
“Belinda, I want you to meet Maureen. She’s kindly agreed to a private showing. Just pick whatever you want.”
She hadn’t noticed the array of clothes. There were enough suits and evening gowns and dresses to outfit an army of nannies.
Now what? Though she knew perfectly well that whispering in front of somebody was rude, she marched to Reeve and leaned close so Maureen couldn’t hear.
“I don’t need those expensive clothes.”
“I’m paying.” He said it right out loud, as if money grew alongside the rosebushes in his backyard.
“I won’t take them,” she said, loud enough for Maureen to hear.
Reeve’s expression didn’t change. “Will you excuse us for a moment, Maureen? I’ll have Quincy bring some coffee to you in my study.”
After she had left the room, he turned to Belinda. “Whether you will take them is not a question here.” He held up two dresses. “Which do you like best, the black or the green?”
“Neither. They’re both plain as dirt. Anyhow, what does it matter what I like? I will not take your charity.”
“This is not charity, Belinda; it’s business.”
“I am not a kept woman!”
“That’s a ridiculous notion. No one thinks of you that way.”
“Maureen will. After today she’ll tell everyone all over town that you bought a ton of clothes for that little upstart from Augusta, Georgia.”
Reeve chuckled. “Belinda, you can be very amusing when you get angry.”
“Stop patronizing me.”
“That’s great!”
“I don’t see what’s great about it.”
“I’m astonished at how quickly your vocabulary is growing.”
“Why do you always think of me as your project! I’m not a project, I’m a person.”
Reeve came to her and cupped her shoulders. “I know you’re a person.”
His voice and his touch were kind and gentle, the sort a teacher might use with a student. His actions served only to fan the flames of her indignation.
“No, you don’t. You didn’t even ask if I wanted a new wardrobe.”
“It’s a part of your education.”
“Then show me some pictures. Let me look at all those designer labels in the pages of some slick magazine from Paris, but please allow me the dignity of buying my own clothes.”
“What has gotten into you, Belinda?”
“Maybe I’m in—” She bit her lower lip just in time to keep from saying love. She needed a break; she needed a change; she needed a miracle.
“Look, Reeve, I’m sorry. Forget everything I said. Just send the clothes back with Maureen and maybe you can drop me off at the store next Saturday and I’ll buy one of the outfits.”
She saw the muscle working in the side of his jaw. One of the things she knew about Reeve was his bullheaded determination to do whatever he set his mind to.
“All right, Belinda,” he finally said. “You can purchase the clothes.” He pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket big enough to buy Louisiana, with Texas thrown in for good measure. “Take this. It’s a bonus for showing Mark how to catch a fly ball.”
“That’s part of my job.”
“No. It’s part of my job. I’m his father. I wasn’t there for him—you were. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I going to send Maureen in here to take all this back to the store.”
o0o
From: Belinda
To: Molly, Joanna, Catherine, Janet, Bea, Clemmie
Re: Update
I think the plan is working! I’ve paraded my assets like somebody in a red light district, and he’s acting all hot and bothered.
Bea, you’ll be glad to know I’m remaining an independent woman, too. When Reeve sent some prissy woman who looked like she had a stick up her butt to give me a private fashion show, I told him I’d buy my own clothes. You ought to see what I got! I’m going to be showing more skin than Jennifer Lopez!”
Xo
Belinda
From: Joanna
To: Belinda, Molly, Janet, Catherine, Bea, Clemmie
Re: Phase Two
&nbs
p; Cool, Belinda!!! Hey, Molly. It’s time to bring out the big guns! Where’s that HOTTIE you know?
Big Hugs!!!
Joanna
From: Janet
To: Belinda, Molly, Catherine, Bea, Clemmie, Joanna
Re: The Other Half of the Story
You sound happier, Belinda. I’m glad. What about the other part of this plan. Is that man teaching you anything?
XO
Janet
From: Bea
To: Belinda, Molly, Catherine, Janet, Clemmie, Joanna
Re: Fly on the Wall
OMG, Belinda! I’d like to be a fly on the wall! Keep kicking butt!
Molly, tell your friend to call Reeve Lawrence’s house! That will have more impact than calling than Belinda’s mobile. And send one of those hotties to Texas. I think my Virginia is in need of resuscitation!
Hugs,
Bea
From: Clemmie
To: Molly, Belinda, Bea, Catherine, Janet, Joanna
Re: A Hottie
If you have an extra hottie, send him to Peppertown, Molly. I can’t wait to hear how phase two works!
Hug,
Clemmie
From: Catherine
To: Molly, Belinda, Bea, Clemmie, Janet, Joanna
Re: Bea’s Virginia
OMG, Bea! May I remind you that you were the one who wrote the rules? No sex without a wedding ring!
Belinda, is this man the marrying kind? Also, you’d better check to see if that house is a shrine to his dead wife. Next weekend you have off, why don’t you come down to New Orleans, sweetie? There are some really hot guys on campus, and the French Quarter is just crawling with men! You might see something that will change your mind about Reeve Lawrence.
Gotta run! A HUGE test tomorrow.
XOXO
Catherine