Full House

by Janet Evanovich

  Nick burst through his bedroom door and dumped Billie on his bed like a side of beef. "Just what in the hell did you think you were doing down there?" he demanded.

  Billie shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She was covered with food. She plucked a shrimp from her G-string and looked up at Nick. She had never seen him so mad. She steeled herself.

  "I was giving you what you wanted," she said.

  "What I wanted?" he repeated in disbelief. "Do you think I want the woman I love strutting her stuff in front of a room full of strangers? Have you lost your mind?"

  Billie stared at him. He'd said it. He'd said he loved her!

  He stalked to his closet, pulled out a bathrobe, and tossed it at her. "Get dressed."

  Billie jumped from the bed and snatched the robe. "You're just like every other man," she accused. "It's okay for you to attend wild parties and maul women, but you expect your future wife to sit home and knit sweaters. That's called double standards, Nick."

  His eyes almost glittered with fury. "I'm not your ex-husband."

  * * * * *

  Billie sat in her dark living room waiting for her hair to dry. Deedee had checked on her several times before going to bed, but Billie had not been in the mood for conversation. She had made a fool of herself.

  Not only that, she would never get the smell of fish out of her hair.

  Billie sniffed. She would not cry. She was a woman of morals, and she expected the man she planned to marry to have them, as well.

  Billie got up and made her way through the dark house to the kitchen. She needed water. She switched on the light over the stove, and the kitchen lit up softly. Billie turned for the refrigerator and opened the freezer.

  Ice cubes spilled out like an avalanche. She tried to catch them in her hands, but the cubes continued to fall, literally hundreds of them, hitting the floor and sliding in all directions.

  Hell's bells, she'd never seen so much ice in her life! It clattered on the floor like giant hail. She looked up and jumped when she found Max standing there, a sheepish look on his face.

  "I fixed the ice maker like you asked," he said. He sniffed. "What's that smell?"

  "It's a long story."

  He nodded. It took twenty minutes for the two of them to sweep up the ice and mop the floor. Billie forgot all about being thirsty.

  "Boy, when you repair something, you really go all out," she told the boy.

  He looked embarrassed. "I guess I need to make some more minor adjustments. At least the garage door doesn't go up every time you turn on the lamp in the living room." He gave her an odd look. "Have you been crying?"

  Billie shrugged. "Nick and I had a disagreement earlier."

  "Are you still getting married?"

  "Probably not."

  Max looked down at the floor. "I haven't exactly made things any easier for you."

  Billie put her hand on his shoulder. Sometimes he seemed so young. "Everything will be okay." She gazed past him and froze. The dead bolt on her door was unlocked. "Max?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Did you go out while I was showering?"

  "No. I only got up because I heard someone down here. Why do you ask?"

  "The door is unlocked."

  He turned. "Maybe Joel or Christie?"

  Billie shook her head. "I've drilled it into their heads how important it is to keep the doors locked, even during the day. I can't imagine them forgetting."

  Max walked over to the door and flipped the dead bolt into a locked position. He checked the doorknob and locked it as well. "Are you okay?"

  Billie sank into one of the chairs. Max sat in the chair opposite her. "I think someone came into this house the other night." Max just stared at her as she told him what had happened. "I could have been dreaming someone was in my room, but it felt so real, and I smelled perfume. Not only that, I never close my bedroom door or turn off the night-light in the hall."

  "That's weird."

  " 'Scary' is a better word."

  "Have you told Nick?"

  She shook her head. "I didn't want to add to his worries, especially now, what with someone blowing up his car."

  Max hung his head. "I think he still believes I did it."

  "Maybe in the beginning, but I bet now he's considering other options."

  "Maybe. By the way, I killed five or six spiders tonight, not to mention a couple of roaches."

  Billie's unease worsened. "What kind of roaches?"

  "Small ones. German roaches."

  Billie told him about the infestation problem in the neighborhood and Raoul's concern about the bugs. "Everybody's having problems. And we've had all these break-ins, two in the past couple of nights."

  "Do any of the kids in this neighborhood work in grocery stores, specifically in the produce section?"

  "I've no idea. Why?"

  "If someone is bringing in bugs, which sounds kind of crazy to me, that's one place I can think of that they could be getting them." He shook his head. "And I thought I was strange."

  "Why would somebody do something like that?"

  "Who knows? I'm going to start sleeping on the sofa," Max said. "I wake up at the slightest sound. If someone tries to unlock either door or manages to get inside the houses, I'll know."

  "I don't want the others to find out."

  "I'll just say Joel's twin bed isn't long enough for me. Which is the truth. My feet hang off."

  "Why didn't you say something?"

  "Hey, I've slept in the woods at Nick's. A bed is like heaven to me. But that's the best excuse I can think of at the moment."

  "Thanks," Billie said. "I'll rest easier knowing you're out here." Unless Max was not innocent as he claimed to be, she thought, then chided herself for being so paranoid. But it wasn't like she could call the police She was harboring their main suspect. She prepared herself for another sleepless night.

  * * * * *

  Flowers began arriving the next morning at nine o'clock sharp, roses in every imaginable color, along with large pots of daffodils and daisies, Billie's favorite. The small card attached contained an apology from Nick.

  "I don't know what Nick did to make you angry," Max said, "but I think whatever it was, he's really sorry for it."

  "Oh, my goodness!" Deedee exclaimed when she came down shortly before lunch. "Are all these for me?"

  Christie gave her a smug look. "No, they're for my mom."

  Deedee's smile faded. "Frankie's never done anything like this for me. Maybe I shouldn't marry him after all."

  "Sounds good to me," Billie muttered. "Then I won't have to feel guilty backing out at the last minute."

  "Mom!" Joel looked indignant. "You have to marry Nick. You promised him you would."

  "Joel's right," Christie said. "Besides, Nick is cool. Even Lisa Marie agrees, and she's not easy to please, believe me."

  "You guys just think he's cool because he has horses," Billie said.

  Both of her children looked at her. "You're wrong, Mom," Christie said. "Nick cares about Joel and me. Lisa Marie said all her mom's boyfriends acted like they cared about her in the beginning, they wanted to butter her up so her mom would marry them. But Nick is different. You can tell he loves all of us."

  Joel nodded in agreement. "I just hope he doesn't send any more flowers because this house is starting to smell."

  "That's your mother's hair you smell," Deedee said. "But I have to hand it to you kids. You're really deep."

  "I didn't want to say anything to hurt your feelings, Mom," Christie said, "but how come your hair smells like fish?"

  Billie shrugged. "I dove into a plate of salmon last night."

  Christie rolled her eyes. "How come you can never get a straight answer from anyone around here?"

  "Sometimes you're better off not knowing every little detail," Deedee said.

  Billie looked at Max. He smiled, and she marveled at how much he resembled Nick.

  "Nick's a good guy, even if he does sometimes lose his tem
per with me," Max said, "but you're the one who has to live with him the rest of your life."

  "Thanks, Max," she said. "For everything." She felt guilty now for suspecting him the night before.

  He smiled. "Since you're feeling so grateful, would you mind taking me to the library when it's convenient? I've been making plans in my spare time on what to do about the marshland problem."

  "Uh-oh," Deedee said. "I smell trouble."

  Billie ignored her. "Oh, yeah?"

  Max nodded. "I'm going to contact the people who've complained in the editorial section about the developers, and I'm going to form a committee of volunteers."

  "And?"

  "I'm going to fight it, but I'm going to do it legally with flyers and peaceful protests. In the meantime, I need volunteers out there banding and counting birds so we can have some accurate statistics."

  Deedee almost choked on her coffee. "Is this my brother talking?"

  "I've turned over a new leaf," Max said proudly. "If you want to be heard, you have to make sense to people. Blowing up pots of geraniums just makes you look stupid."

  Billie checked her wristwatch. "Tell you what, I'll grab a quick shower, wash my hair again, and then I'll drive you to the library."

  * * * * *

  When Billie returned after having driven Max to the library, she found Nick's car, dent and all, in the driveway. Her stomach seemed to do a little flip-flop as she walked to the front door.

  He was sitting on the sofa looking at a comic book with Joel. Deedee sat at the kitchen table doing her nails. He brightened at the sight of Billie. "Hi."

  "Hi, yourself," she said.

  Deedee held up a hand and blew her nails. "Christie went over to Lisa Marie's. I hope that's okay."

  Billie nodded.

  Deedee looked from Billie to Nick to Joel. "Uh, Joel, how would you like to make a dollar?"

  The boy glanced up quickly. "Doing what?"

  "I lost my tweezers, which means I can't pluck my eyebrows."

  "Pluck your eyebrows?" he said, wrinkling his nose distastefully. "Why would you want to do something like that?"

  Deedee stood. "You want to make a buck or not?"

  Joel stood as well. "Okay, I'll look for them." He followed Deedee upstairs.

  Billie allowed her gaze to meet Nick's. "Why don't we go out back?" He nodded and followed her through the back door. Finally, she faced him. Silently.

  "I didn't sleep last night," he said.

  "Why am I not surprised?"

  "It's not what you think. The party ended shortly after you left."

  Billie grimaced.

  "I didn't plan the party, Billie. It was a surprise. I wasn't even in the room when they rolled in the cake. The only reason I came in was because I heard all the racket and wondered what was going on. I've never been the jealous type before," he said, "but when I saw you standing up there wearing next to nothing, and all those men whistling and making lewd comments, I flipped out."

  "It was me! I acted like a moron."

  "Actually you looked pretty good," Nick said.

  Billie chewed on her lip.

  "What?" Nick asked. "There's something else bothering you. I can tell."

  "I know it's stupid," Billie said, "but I'm still feeling weird about Sheridan."

  "She and I grew up together. Our families were close. Neither of us had brothers or sisters, and we were practically neighbors. Sheridan was pretty much a tomboy in those days, if you can believe it; we did everything together. We pulled a helluva lot of pranks. Our fathers were rich and important; I guess we did it partly to embarrass them and maybe get their attention. Both of us stayed in trouble in and out of school."

  "Nick—"

  "Hear me out, please. Sheridan was my best friend, and I was hers. We dated other people, compared notes, but it never interfered with our friendship. Then a couple of years ago her mother died, and we grew even closer. She and I weren't serious about anyone else at the time, and—

  "It just happened, I don't know how, but it did. We began seeing one another. Sheridan was still grieving, and I felt I should be there as her friend. Our parents seemed so happy about it. I think it was their dream for us to marry, so I asked her. It was the biggest mistake of our lives when we became engaged. We were perfect pals, buddies, but we weren't cut out to be lovers, so I broke it off."

  "You said she called off the engagement."

  He rolled his eyes. "She made me say that. You know, her pride and all. It would be unthinkable to suggest that a man would call it quits with her."

  Billie tried to digest it. "So if it's over between the two of you, why is Sheridan still following you around?"

  Nick sighed. "Nobody has ever said no to her. Ever. As much as I care about her, the bottom line is Sheridan has always gotten exactly what she's wanted. Her father has pulled strings, called in favors, you name it, in order to see that his daughter is happy. It only got worse after her mother died. Sheridan is all he has left."

  "I understand he's a retired general," Billie said, "and very powerful. What would he do if his daughter didn't get what she wanted?"

  Nick met her questioning gaze. "Lord only knows."

  Billie was silent for a moment. "I don't know, Nick. My life was pretty normal before I met you. No bombs, no ditsy redheads, no insanely jealous ex-fiancees. I would never have considered doing what I did last night. I just hope my students never find out."

  "Why'd you do it?"

  "I didn't like the thought of you looking at another woman. I figured that if you were going to look at a scantily clad woman at all, you were going to look at me. It was very immature of me to react as I did. Especially for someone who craves normalcy in her life."

  "But if you crave normalcy above all else, life might become boring. Haven't you ever done anything even remotely kooky before you met me?"

  Billie pondered it. "My sister and I once put a dead chicken in Edna Kuntz's mailbox."

  "You have a sister?"

  Billie suddenly realized she had told him very little about her growing-up years. How could the two of them have created such a bond without knowing one another's history?

  "There are four of us. My sister Mary is a year older than me, my sister Margaret is two years younger, and I have a little brother, Richard. They're all married, and all have children, and I'm sure they'll all be on the wedding bus."

  "Which one mailed the chicken with you?"

  "Margaret. She was in the third grade, and she had this terrible teacher named Edna Kuntz. Everyone hated this woman. Margaret used to come home crying all the time because Mrs. Kuntz was so mean. On the last day of school I thought Margaret deserved to get even, so I defrosted one of my mom's soup chickens and that night we stuffed it in Edna Kuntz's mailbox. The mailman, Sonny Moyer, hated Mrs. Kuntz, too, so when he delivered the mail the next day and found the chicken in her mailbox he shoved her phone bill into the chicken's ... opening. By the time old Edna went to get her mail the temperature was ninety-two and there were five dogs hanging around the mailbox."

  Nick chuckled in approval. "You underestimate yourself. Not even Deedee could top that one."

  An afternoon breeze ruffled his hair and Billie had to stop herself from reaching out and brushing the curl from his forehead. It was peaceful and comfortable— the way Billie imagined a good marriage would be, the way she had hoped she and Nick could be. But how could she hope for such peace when they felt so passionate about one another? Not that passion was a bad thing. She expected ups and downs, hills and valleys, but she wanted some smooth-running moments, as well. "Do you really love me?" she asked.

  He touched her cheek. "Those words don't come easy for me. I didn't hear them often when I was growing up. I don't think I truly understood the meaning until I met you.

  "I see the love on your face when you look at your children, and I ache deep inside because I've spent so many years without it. You radiate with love, Billie. It's because of you that I was able to find it."
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  She was so touched she feared she might cry. He'd finally said the words. All their obstacles seemed small and insignificant when he looked at her that way. "Oh, Nick. I will do everything in my power to make you feel loved for the rest of your life."

  He reached for her hand and put it to his mouth. Slowly and thoughtfully, he kissed her fingertips. "Billie, we need to have a serious talk. This has been sort of an unorthodox courtship. I know you're wearing my ring, but I also know you were ... nudged into accepting my proposal. If you have any doubts ..." He stopped for a minute to make sure his voice wouldn't waver, wondering what he would do if she decided not to marry him, if she thought it was happening too fast. He'd known her for such a short time, but he couldn't imagine life without her. "We don't need to get married this Saturday if you feel pressured."

  Billie smiled tenderly. For some reason, she no longer felt rushed. At the moment, she felt as if time were moving very slowly and Saturday would never come. Marriage was a state of mind, she decided, not a piece of paper. She already felt married to Nick, and the ceremony on Saturday would probably mean more to her friends and family.

  "Saturday will be fine."

  Chapter Fifteen

  "It's nerves," Deedee said. "You just haven't gotten married enough."

  Billie squinted into her foyer mirror and watched her left eye twitch. "Nerves," she repeated. "I'm going to be okay because I'm marrying a wonderful man and everything's going to be, well, wonderful. His parents, his manservant, his grandmother ... they're all coming tomorrow and I'm going to meet them, and it's going to be, uh, wonderful. And then everyone in the world, with the exception of those living in third world countries, is going to arrive on a chartered bus and that's going to be wonderful, too. It's all going to be absolutely wonderful."

  If only her damn eye would stop twitching.

  "Just be thankful you and I didn't have to arrange it all," Deedee said. "Nick's secretary is a jewel for doing all the work and sending out last-minute invitations. Believe me, there's a lot to attend to."