Caught in a Bind (7 page)

The idea that there was someone watching what was happening caused Tina’s husband to check for a minute. She saw her chance and darted past him, ducking as he slapped at her. She and I hurried toward the car.

I stopped halfway down the walk and turned back to the house. He stood on the front steps, his face red with fury, his hands clenched in fists.

“There’s something you should know before you lay a hand on your wife again.” I was so angry my voice shook. “I write for the
News
, and I’d be delighted to write about you by name. I’m sure they’d like to know at work just what kind of a man you are.”

He stared, clearly surprised. Then he shouted, “You wouldn’t dare! I’d sue you for all you’re worth! You have no proof.” He looked at his wife who was climbing into my car. “And who in their right mind would ever believe her?” The contempt in his voice gave me the chills.

“How about me? I believe her.” And I turned my back.

When we arrived at Tina’s parents’, they welcomed her and the children with obvious relief.

“Finally,” her father said with tears in his eyes. “And this time you’re staying.”

Tina burrowed into his arms as he patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

“Come on, Lacey, Jess.” Tina’s mother took a small hand in each of hers. “I bet I can find some ice cream in the freezer.”

“Don’t let them eat all mine,” their grandfather said in an attempt to lighten the moment.

“It’s okay, Grandpop.” Lacey stopped in the doorway, trying to swallow her disappointment. “We don’t have to have any.”

With a sad smile, Grandpop said, “Honey, I was teasing. You eat as much as you want.”

Lacey looked at him hesitantly. “I mean it,” he said. “It’s all yours.”

“It’s okay, Lacey,” Jess said. “Isn’t it, Mommy? It’s okay here.”

“It’s okay here,” Tina repeated and began to weep.

Tonight’s black-tie reception was important for my career as I’d be meeting my new superboss for the first time, and I wanted to impress him. I was going to wear one of those rare, it’s-exactly-right dresses that made me feel like a million dollars but which I bought for thirty bucks in a secondhand clothes store. It had a fitted sapphire blue silk top covered with so many sequins that I shimmered like the Caribbean Sea awash in sun jewels. Its soft silk skirt fell in a graceful column.

But it was Curt I really wanted to impress. I wanted to knock his socks off, make him drool, froth at the mouth and go weak at the knees. I grinned at the absurd thoughts. I’d be happy if I could make him whistle.

I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror in my underwear, one eye made up, my hair in hot rollers, when I realized that my dress, fresh from the cleaners, was still hanging in the car. I shuddered when I thought of its condition after sharing a backseat with Lacey and Jess, but it was the only truly fancy dress I owned—unless you counted four frou-frou bridesmaid dresses, including one from Jolene and Reilly’s wedding. Of course I wouldn’t be caught dead in any of them outside a church.

I glanced at the clock. Ten minutes before Curt arrived. I grabbed my new red coat and threw it on over my undies. I ran out the front door. I was halfway across the porch when I heard the door not only slam closed but snap in the way that meant only one thing: locked. And the key was in my purse on the sofa.

I stared at my front door. A couple of months ago someone had broken into my apartment by shattering one of the small panes of glass in the door. After that I’d lobbied my landlord for a new, all-wooden door. He hadn’t been happy with the idea, but when I offered to share the cost with him, he’d agreed. My new, solid door with the peephole was impregnable, unless you happened to be carrying an axe in your coat pocket.

I had ten minutes—no, probably about eight by now—to get back inside before Curt arrived and found me in my rollers, underwear, half-made-up face and slippers with the Winnie the Pooh heads on them. I began a frantic search for a secret way into the apartment.

I was behind the yew hedge by the front window, trying in vain to open it, when I heard a deep voice say, “It’s a cinch that no one at the reception will hold a candle to you tonight.”

For once the voice didn’t thrill me to my toes.

I turned to face him. He looked absolutely gorgeous with his black curly hair and dark eyes behind his new brown wire-rimmed glasses. He was wearing a tux. A tux! And I was wearing a coat and underwear!

He studied me closely, looking from one eye to the other. He was trying rather unsuccessfully not to laugh.

I stalked out from behind the bushes, clutching my coat to me. “I’m locked out.”

“Ah.” Then he saw my feet. “Hey! Maybe I can get a pair of Tiggers!”

“Very funny. Go away. Come back in twenty minutes.”

Instead he leaned over and kissed my cheek, getting poked in the temple with a roller in the process.

“Sorry.” I rubbed the little red marks left by the roller’s teeth.

He looked at the front door. “You’re sure it’s locked?”

I just looked at him.

“All right then.” He retraced the route I had just taken, trying all the windows I had just tried. Whiskers followed his progress from window to window, meowing encouragement from inside. I was perversely pleased to see that he had no more luck than I.

“So you really are out in the cold,” he said.

“And it’s getting colder. It’s breezy under here.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “Just break a window and get me in!”

“I guess there’s no alternative. But let’s make certain it’s absolutely necessary first.” And so saying, he pulled open the storm door of my apartment and tried the front door.

It opened obediently.

I stared at the open door, feeling betrayed. “But it clicked!”

“Yeah. That was probably the storm door.”

I wanted to gnash my teeth.

I had finished my second eye when I realized that my dress was still in the car. I grabbed my red coat out from under Whiskers, who had decided that if it was dumped on my bed, it could be his bed. He glared at me and I glared back. I went once again to my traitorous front door.

“Well, your eyes match,” Curt said as he looked up from the magazine he was reading.
Today’s Christian Woman
. I bet he was enjoying that. “But something tells me you’re not quite ready yet.”

“My dress is still in the car.”

“I’ll get it. At least I’m decent.” And he grinned.

I looked down and saw that while I clutched my coat closed above the waist, below the waist the left side had caught behind me when I swung it on. The only thing I can say is that it wasn’t quite as bad as if I’d caught my skirt in my panty hose.

When I finally got myself together and emerged from the bedroom in one piece, Curt let out a low wolf whistle.

Suddenly the evening looked enchanted.

I chatted happily as we drove across town, telling Curt all about Edie’s troubles. “And Tom’s still missing,” I concluded.

Curt raised an eyebrow. “Missing?”

I nodded, grinning at him.

“I can tell by your smile that you’re very concerned.”

I blinked. “Of course I’m concerned.” I leaned toward him and smiled again, full wattage. “I’m smiling because I’m with you,” I all but purred.

This time he blinked.

City Hall was a beautiful old stone mansion. I loved the grounds with the gracious beech whose branches swept the ground like the skirts of a great lady, the towering oak that stood like a sentinel watching over the lady and the glorious magnolias whose waxen, white petals even now promised spring as they dared a frost to wither their beauty.

Curt and I stepped into the Brennan Room, tonight alive with the strange combination of anticipation and concern. Jonathan Delaney Montgomery had done a masterful job of keeping his plans for his new newspaper a secret. The
News
was but one of his papers, now numbering twenty-five, all small dailies, making him a mini Rupert Murdoch. Our concern was that he had, in fact, bought many more than twenty-five. The others had ceased to exist shortly after Montgomery’s purchase.

We waited with trepidation to see which side of the ledger the
News
ended up on.

“Well, it’s about time you showed up!” A thoroughly disgruntled Mac Carnuccio bulled his way through the crowd to us. His tux almost fit him, and if he’d smiled, he’d have looked quite handsome.

“And a pleasant good evening to you, too, Mac.” I smiled sweetly.

Mac looked at me for a long minute, then turned to Curt. “How do you stand her? She’s so stinking saccharine she gives toothaches on sight.”

Curt looked at me. “I don’t know, Mac. I think her smile’s kind of cute.” He put his arm around my shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze.

I rested my head on his shoulder for a brief moment, reveling in the fact that this marvelous, talented man loved me.

“Relax, Mac. Enjoy the evening.” I smiled again, knowing it would drive him crazy. It did.

“Ditch her, Curt. Save yourself while there’s still time.”

“I’m afraid it’s already too late.”

I glowed while Mac glowered.

“No date tonight?” I asked Mac innocently. If he could jab at me, I could jab at him.

Mac snarled. “Now that woman is a case of terminal sweet if I ever saw one.” He scowled at his own reflection in a window made a mirror by the dark night outside and the bright light inside. Mac astonished me with the depth of his affection for Dawn Trauber.

“You’re right. She’s a sweetie,” I agreed.

“I got stood up for some girl who’s having a baby. Can you believe that? One of the most crucial nights of my life, and she’s at the hospital going, ‘Breathe deeply. Now pant, two, three, four.’”

Dawn Trauber, the object of Mac’s frustration, was the director of His House, a home for girls in trouble, most of
whom were having babies without the benefit of marriage. Frequently Dawn was the birth coach for one of the girls, and apparently tonight was a command performance.

I laid a gentle hand on Mac’s arm. “You know she’d be here if she could.”

Mac looked unconvinced.

“She’s crediting you with the courage and class to get through tonight on your own. She knew the girl having the baby couldn’t make it, given her age and situation, but she knew you could.”

“You’re saying I should feel honored that I’ve been stood up for a baby?”

I nodded. “And I’m sure it won’t be the last time.” I smiled sweetly again.

Mac rolled his eyes at Curt. “It’s your life, but I’m telling you, tooth decay and mind rot. Before you know it, you won’t have a decent gripe to your name. She’ll Pollyanna them all away.”

“You’re just jealous because my girl’s here and yours isn’t.” Curt snagged a canapé from the tray going by.

Mac grabbed a couple and passed one to me. “I’m so nervous I can barely stand it.”

Poor Mac. “Have you been through the receiving line yet?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I haven’t had the nerve.”

“Then come with us.” I slipped a hand through both Curt’s and Mac’s arms and led the way to where Jonathan Montgomery was standing, royalty giving his beneficent nod to his adoring public.

We fell in line behind the mayor and her husband and two of the local councilmen. The politicians were delighted to meet Amhearst’s newest minimogul, and everyone had a great time glad-handing. While we waited, I looked at Mac.

“Do you want this man to retain you?” I asked.

He looked at me as if I was daft.

“Then smile, for goodness’sake. Be pleasant. You may hate that he’s kept you on a string ever since he purchased the paper, but it is his right.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Dawn’s been telling me the same thing for days. And she’s praying.” He looked confounded by the idea. “She’s praying!”

“Of course she is,” I said. “I’ve been praying too.”

Mac rolled his eyes.

Curt leaned toward him. “I’ve been praying too.”

“Aaugh! I don’t know if I can stand this.” Mac ran a distracted hand through his already rumpled hair. “I’m not used to religion that’s every day.”

“That’s one reason we’re praying,” Curt said.

Mac just stared.

“Hello. I’m Jonathan Delaney Montgomery.”A hand reached for Mac, who blinked, then rubbed his right hand quickly against his trousers. With his best smile pasted into place, he shook hands with the man who would decide his future.

“Mac Carnuccio, acting editor of the
News
. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Carnuccio. I’ve been reading your editorials as well as studying your paper.”

We all waited but the man offered no opinion, positive or negative, about Mac’s work. While Mac sputtered something about loving his job, I studied Mr. Montgomery. A control freak, I decided. He wanted to keep Mac squirming as long as he could.

And then Mac was dismissed and it was my turn. I held out my hand, prepared to introduce myself.

“Mr. Montgomery.” Curt reached around me. “Good to see you again, sir.”

“Well, Curt, my boy. You’re looking well.”

While I was assimilating the fact that the love of my life knew my new boss and had neglected to mention that little fact, Curt said, “I’d like you to meet a special friend of mine, Merrileigh Kramer.”

Mr. Montgomery beamed at me. “Miss Kramer, I’m pleased to meet you. Any friend of Curt’s is more than welcome at this reception.” He took my hand and patted it benevolently. Then he proceeded to ignore me.

“So tell me, Curt. How’s the artist doing?”

“Fine, thank you.”

“Delia’s been telling me the same thing. You took a risk giving up your teaching, son, but it seems to be paying off.”

“I do not regret my decision one bit.”

“And does your little lady approve?”

With a jolt I realized he was talking about me. Little lady? What century was he born in?

Curt smiled at me. “She does.”

“Has she met Delia yet?”

“Not yet. There’s been no occasion.”

“You’d better warn her, boy.”

“When I think there’s something to warn her about, Mr. Montgomery, I will.”

“Don’t be a fool, Curt.”

Curt looked at me while I stared wide-eyed, trying to decipher the conversation. “I think I’m already a fool, sir, for beautiful eyes, mismatched or not.” His smile melted my bones.