Cupid's Confederates (4 page)

“Yes,” Bett agreed. There was a semi due in for the peaches. The workers were expecting their paychecks. She was freezing cold and her yellow shirt was sticking to her. They were going to have to spray tonight because of the rain, and it would take hours to unpack the rest of Elizabeth’s U-Haul.

At another level, Bett felt a rush of warmth flood her at Elizabeth’s smile. Those smiles had been all too rare this past year.
Okay, Mom,
Bett thought fleetingly.
I am not going to feel irritated. We are going to be
calm
together. And I am darned well going to keep you happy or die trying.
She picked up the scrub brush.

***

Zach strode impatiently toward the house. The entire day was a bitch. Six hours of spraying coming up,
not
his favorite chore. He hadn’t liked leaving Bett with a crew in the rain, and in the meantime the semi had just arrived, with Caruso’s Mercedes trailing it. Their buyer always had an hour to spare for showing off pictures of his grandchildren. By spending time, Caruso seemed to feel he was “cultivating” one of his favorite growers. The only cultivating Zach had time for during the harvest season was in a field, and he still had miles to go this day. Bett usually handled Caruso, but Zach had seen the pink Lincoln in the yard, the one Chet had paid God knows how much to have custom painted some years back.

A warm, wet muzzle snuggled into Zach’s palm; he paused long enough to stroke the oversized, mangy beast to whom it belonged. “Baby” was one of Bett’s orphans. The thin line of Zach’s mouth softened. He crouched down on his haunches. “So where’ve you been, you old cuss? Bett’s been worried.”

The dog moaned at the sound of Bett’s name. Zach chuckled, stroking the bristly fur under the animal’s chin one last time. Bett had her bees. The cat. A fawn she’d managed to charm into the backyard last winter. She’d trained a covey of pheasants to come to the back door to be fed on snowy days. And the pigeons that made a disastrous mess on the barn roof were “homers”—which meant they were supposed to go
home.
Instead, they had a cooing fit whenever Bett set foot outside.

His wife was fey. Baby, the mangy mutt, was just a part-time visitor who’d limped up to the door one day with a trap caught on one paw. The dog somewhat resembled a Great Dane, but with a hound’s sagging jaws and a setter’s sweeping tail. He checked in regularly with Bett, just wouldn’t stay. Zach wondered fleetingly how Bett had ever thought herself happy as a city girl. His love for wild creatures matched hers, but he didn’t have her special gift with them.

Just an appreciation for it. He stroked the dog’s head one last time. “She’ll be out,” he promised, and made for the house.

Chaos greeted him at the door. Boxes and grocery bags and suitcases were piled every which way; the two canaries were chittering with fright. Sniper, who never came inside, was perched on top of the cage, interestedly batting his paw between the gold bars. Used to coolness and silence when he walked into the house, Zach swallowed a sigh of exasperation and made his way along a hazardous path toward the kitchen.

His nose wrinkled instantly at the smell of ammonia; after that jarring note came another. There was a feminine screech the moment his booted foot hit the floor; for some unknown reason the refrigerator was in the middle of the room; and before he had a chance to draw a breath, his mother-in-law was hurling herself at him.

He not only accepted the quick hug, he returned it; but he didn’t have much chance to greet her.

“I wanted so much for us to have it done before you came in!” Elizabeth said unhappily. “Zach, I’m so glad to see you! I’ve brought you a few things—listen, you just sit down. I’ll get you some iced tea. In the living room, there’s no walking on the kitchen floor just yet. Not that you can’t if you want to,” she added hastily. “It’s just that—”

“You’re looking great, Liz,” he interjected as soon as she stopped to draw breath. His exasperation faded a little. He really was pleased to see the animated enthusiasm on his mother-in-law’s face, and he would undoubtedly find the patience to listen to her steady stream of chatter once he got his business taken care of. Elizabeth was just—Elizabeth.

He refused the offer of iced tea three times, listened to the story of her drive from Milwaukee, stood obediently in the doorway, gathered after several hurt looks that he was supposed to comment on the floor and did so dutifully, and finally got a word in. “Where’s Bett?”

Elizabeth motioned vaguely toward the refrigerator. “But you’re
sure
I can’t get you some coffee, then?” she asked worriedly. “Zach, you work so hard; you must need a little refreshment…”

He shook his head, took a step toward the freestanding refrigerator and stopped at the expression of horror on Elizabeth’s face. He stepped back, pushing off one boot and then the other. He ventured in, past the pail and rag, around the corner of the refrigerator. If he hadn’t spotted the crown of yellow hair, he would have kept on going. As it was, he paused in shock and leaned over the counter.

Bett was trapped between the back of the refrigerator and the wall. She looked up at him from on her hands and knees, a toothbrush in one hand.

“What the Sam
Hill
are you doing?” he mouthed.

“Hi,” she mouthed back. She was damp, hot, frustrated and irritable…but the bewildered look on Zach’s face almost made her chuckle. She made motions to show what she was doing—the toothbrush, the small bowl of pasty-looking cleanser and water, and the corner—and shot him a mischievous grin. “Zach, you
know
I always clean behind the refrigerator once a week,” she said aloud.

“Hmm,” he commented noncommittally, and reached down as she reached up for a quick kiss. “Caruso’s out there. He claims he told you he wanted twenty more bushels.”

She grinned again. “He always says that when the produce is good. It usually means he’s irritated that he didn’t order more because he knows he can sell it. You told him you always wanted that Mercedes of his?”

Zach looked blank. “No.”

“And the grandchildren, Zach. He talks about the grandsons, but it’s the granddaughter who’s the apple of his eye. And after that, you mention that Joe Cranston offered you a quarter more per bushel than he did.”

Zach heaved a sigh. “Two bits, who the hell is Joe Cranston?”

Bett shook her head sadly. “Sweetheart,” she said with exasperation, “Joe Cranston is a figment of my imagination, of course. I swear, Zach, you’re incurably honest.”

And Bett, Zach thought idly, was incurably winsome. Her rainwashed hair had dried in a flyaway halo; her small frame was tucked quite comfortably into that tiny square; and the blue eyes staring up at him were clearly inviting. “Come out of there and say that,” he suggested threateningly.

“You two,” Elizabeth said affectionately. Zach straightened up, only to see his mother-in-law swabbing at his footprints with a rag. Guiltily, he backed up, and by the time he reached the doorway, Elizabeth was handing him his boots.

“I want to talk to you before you go back to work,” she whispered as they walked toward the front door. “Zach, I…I’m very grateful you were willing to ask me here. I want to tell that I’ll be very, very careful not to get in your way. I want you and Brittany to just go on and do things exactly as you always do…”

Elizabeth was on the eccentric side; she could also be a sweetheart. Zach gave her a hug, reassured her, made a token stab at guessing the hour he would be in for dinner and escaped outside. He found himself thankful gulping in a lungful of fresh air. He
hated
the smell of ammonia.

The incongruous picture of Bett cleaning behind the refrigerator brought a wry grin for a minute…but the grin faded. He’d already urged Bett to do whatever she had to do to make her mother’s transition to the house easier, and to forget about the farm. In his mind, though, he had anticipated a break for Bett, and had hoped that Elizabeth might take on some of the household jobs that exhausted his wife at the end of an already tiring workday. Liz loved housework, and she wanted to be needed. Inviting her had seemed an honest exchange of needs.

Let them be, Zach thought absently. After all, Elizabeth had only been there an hour. If he felt a sudden trace of uneasiness, it was merely because he was already feeling tired and exasperated. Caruso was waiting.

“Do you like it, Zach?” Elizabeth asked worriedly. “I made it especially for you.”

“Wonderful, Liz. Really.” Zach viewed the slice of salmon loaf on his plate with a haunted smile. Elizabeth had served the dish the first night she was here, and to please her, he had complimented her on it. Five days later, it was being served again, now that she had established it as his favorite.

Bett tossed him just a wisp of an unholy smile. She knew Zach hated salmon. He served himself another helping of green beans. Picking up her fork again, Bett stifled a yawn.

Plum harvest had just started. With both peaches and plums going on at the same time, she barely had time to breathe, even if Zach took on the brunt of the work. In the meantime, she’d spared every free minute she could for her mother…and that included, so far, every single evening. Elizabeth did her best worrying after midnight, after she’d tried to go to sleep and discovered that the house was too quiet.

Now, everything was going well, Bett told herself. Just as she’d been telling herself regularly since the minute her mother had arrived. The two women were getting along splendidly, better than they ever had before. There had been no friction, none of Elizabeth’s tearful crying bouts; her mom’s face had taken on color and animation. Everything Bett wanted for her mother had been happening. And Zach must have told her a dozen times that it was an ideal arrangement, that she should just stop worrying about the farm work that wasn’t getting done and spend as much time with her mother as she wanted.

It would have been very selfish indeed to admit that anything was bothering her. The canaries cheeping at five in the morning didn’t bother her. The fact that making love with Zach had been interrupted twice by their resident insomniac didn’t bother her. Coming home after seven straight hours in the orchards to wash ceilings with her mother didn’t bother her. Her mother’s delicate suggestions that ruffles and padded bras and makeup “would help” didn’t bother her.

Nothing bothered her. Not even tonight. Bett was close to being slaphappy tired. And Zach hadn’t even guessed that something odd was afoot, even though her mother was sitting there in a black linen dress.

Zach viewed his mother-in-law with increasingly suspicious, though hooded, eyes. Elizabeth favored colors that verged on fluorescent.
Not
black. Elizabeth automatically spent every entire dinner period chattering. Yet tonight she was reasonably silent.

He hardly knew what to do with the peace.

“Are you going out to work after dinner, Zach?” Elizabeth asked idly.

“For a while. Just to tinker with a carburetor for a short time.” Not long. Bett’s eyes had shadows under them. Since his wife, for some strange reason, had given up sleeping this past week, he was determined to get her into bed at a reasonable hour. For one purpose or another. The pale yellow smock she wore had long sleeves and an open throat; she looked feminine and tiny and delectably touchable. In the meantime, she and her mother exchanged swift glances.

Elizabeth rose, reaching for the empty plates. “Well, if you have to work after dinner, you have to, I guess, Zach.”

“Hmm.” That was not the tune she’d been singing previously. Elizabeth had been meeting him at the door with iced tea and long, ego-boosting monologues about how hard he worked, how strong he was and how much he needed a little spoiling. He’d sponged it up, the first two days. By the third day, he was thanking God that Bett was nothing like her mother.

“You two aren’t planning on going anywhere after dinner, are you?” he asked idly.

Bett lurched up from her chair; Elizabeth shot him a startled look. “What on earth makes you say that?” his mother-in-law asked with a little laugh. “I’m going to get you your coffee now, Zach, and if you want some dessert—”

“No, thanks—honestly, Liz. I’m more than full.”

“Well, there are éclairs in the refrigerator for whenever you want them. I made them especially for you; Bett told me how you—”

“Thank you.
Where,
”
 
Zach said patiently, “were you two planning on going?”

“I’ll be right back,” Bett promised from the doorway, and disappeared.

Elizabeth glanced at the empty doorway with a sour expression. “We were just going for a little drive.”

“Anywhere special?”

“Can’t hear you,” Elizabeth told him over the rush of both water faucets at the sink.

“Anyplace special?”

“Still can’t hear you. Could it wait until I get the dishes done, Zach? Oh, your coffee…”

“No need,” Zach said quietly, which Elizabeth heard just fine.

He found Bett inside the closet in their bedroom, bending over as she slipped into a pair of heeled sandals. Sniper was lounging on the buttercup-yellow spread; Zach scooped the cat up, plopped him outside the bedroom door and closed it.

Bett stiffened at the sound of the door closing. She gave one quick glance at the interesting scowl between her husband’s brows and went back to fastening the second sandal. “Now, just don’t ask. You’ll be happier.”

“I’m happy enough.”

She shook her head, straightening up. “You have that ‘difficult’ look on your face.”

“What I
have
is a strong inclination to put you to bed. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends for the better part of a week.”

“I’ve got energy coming out of my ears,” she assured him. She flashed him a smile as she crossed swiftly to the dresser. She picked up a hairbrush and rapidly restored her hair to order, unobtrusively glancing worriedly at the mirror at the same time. Did she really look so tired that he noticed? she wondered.

Behind her, the sunset was pouring pastel rays through the windows on either side of their double bed. The vaulted ceiling and huge domed windows were Zach’s designs. Her choices were the gentle yellow color of the carpet and fabrics, and closets that had enormous mirrors on the doors. Nasty things to clean, those mirrors, but then a few candles and darkness and bare skin and those mirrors—and Zach—could produce a remarkable number of variations on a theme…

“Is there some particular reason you don’t want to tell me what’s going on?” his baritone growled behind her.

“Of course there is,” Bett said cheerfully. Finally, her hair lay silken and still on her shoulders. She set down her brush. “You wouldn’t approve.” Spraying on a quick whiff of perfume, she turned. “For no good reason. Not to worry.”

“Then why am I worried?”

“Now, we’re giving you a perfect chance to put your feet up in peace for an evening,” Bett teased, but her light tone was at total variance with the sudden rush she made for the door. Zach had to be faster than lightning to catch her, but suddenly his hands were at her waist and the door was behind her. Her husband had the magical ability to appear huge at will. The whole range of her vision was filled with his short-sleeved navy blue sweatshirt. The chest it covered wasn’t remarkably different from the door in terms of flexibility.

She tilted up her head and looked into Zach’s eyes. A whole bluer-than-blue sky couldn’t have been that full of laughter. She considered making another escape attempt, but didn’t have the chance before he placed a kiss on her mouth. The kind designed to remind her that it had been far too long since they had last made love. “Lord, you’re a tease,” he murmured.

She
was the tease? He’d refined the practice since they’d been married. His tongue slipped between her parted lips and sought hers. Ever so gradually, a steady, unconscious tension that had gripped her for days relaxed; a languid weariness flowed through her body. His tongue continued to play a game of thrust and parry, very gentle, very provocative. No hurry, said the movements of Zach’s tongue, as if something inside him was quite aware she’d been leading the life of a racehorse all week.

When Zach took over, he took over. The race was over, and she found slow motion infinitely preferable to fast. Her fingertips slowly walked up his forearms, up the soft material covering his shoulders, up and into his hair. He seemed to like that quite well, because when he finally came up from the first kiss for air, on the inhale he was already dipping down for the second. That one lasted until he’d thoroughly mussed her hair and run his hands all the way down to her bottom and back up again. Bett was clinging to him, rubbing her hips in a most private rhythm against his hard thighs. Zach flicked open the collar of her dress to press a kiss against her collarbone. “Now, where is it you’re certainly
not
going?” he murmured idly.

“To a psychic,” Bett answered, and leaned her cheek into his shoulder. She felt Zach stiffen, and sighed. “I had a feeling you heard me,” she said dryly. “Mom read this card on the bulletin board in the grocery store two days ago and called the guy. He reads…auras. She’s decided to…um…have a little chat with Dad.”

Zach very definitely pulled back then. “Let’s hear that again?”

Bett’s hands fluttered in the air. Anxiety darkened her eyes, but at the same time a hint of humor softened the curve of her lips. “Mom…she seems to feel it’s about time she let go of grieving, which you know I’d do anything to help her with! But she’s so set on this idea. She figured that one last chance to contact Dad—”

“When exactly did your mother lose her mind?”

“Be nice,” Bett coaxed.

“I’m being
very
nice.”

“Zach, she is
going.
Now, there’s no talking her out of it; I tried. And obviously I couldn’t let her go alone. The Lord knows what she’d get herself into…” Bett caught her breath. “It’ll probably be fun. Ghosts and levitation and stuff…”

Zach pushed back his hair with a thoroughly perplexed frown. He held back the expletive on the tip of his tongue. Bett was so tired she could barely stand up straight, but her eyes stared determinedly up at him. Lord, she was a stubborn little minx! “So how much is the resident ghost hunter taking her for?” he asked flatly.

“I don’t know. Neither does she. Mom doesn’t care.” Bett clearly did.

“You want me to talk to her?”

“If I thought it would do any good, I’d say yes. Unfortunately, I really believe she’d just sneak off to him sometime when she thinks we don’t know about it, and then I would worry—”

“Yes.” He had the measure. Bett had been roped in. She didn’t need anyone giving her a hard time. His eyes held hers, half filled with humor. “If there are black candles and they ask for a show of hands for a virgin sacrifice,
don’t
volunteer.” His half-smile died when she didn’t return it. “How bad can it be, some guy who advertises in a grocery store?” he asked wryly.

“Mmm.” Bett chewed on her lower lip, and moved out of his arms to reach for the brush again. Zach had no appreciation for hairstyles. He was a toucher. “That isn’t exactly why I thought you wouldn’t approve of the idea.”

“What
exactly
is the part I’m supposed to object to?”

“Nothing, really.” It was just the place they were going. Kind of a rural slum on the edge of nowhere, the tag end of a poor farming community about twenty miles away. Anyone with a suicide wish could wander around there at night without any problem. “I’m sure its reputation is vastly overrated. So it’s a poor area. Zach, that doesn’t necessarily mean—”

“Oh, no. But I should have guessed where the local psychic would hang his shingle.”

Unsmiling, Zach pulled off his sweatshirt and reached into the closet for a short-sleeved blue shirt.

“Zach, you don’t have to go. Really.”

Buttoning his shirt, he was inclined to take both women over his knee. The older one for a spanking. The other one to cuddle up.

***

Pushing the gearshift into neutral, Zach leaned forward and peered through the windshield. The pitch-black gravel road had never seen a streetlamp. A single swaying lantern creaked back and forth over a peeling sign that read:

Reverend Moody, Spiritualist

Psychic Readings

Séances Healings

Appointment Only

He and Bett exchanged a dry glance. There wasn’t much they could tell from the exterior of the ranch house; it was too overgrown by shrubbery and low-hanging trees to get a good look at it. Bett had relaxed from the time she knew Zach was coming along, but the mood was still rather eerie. A chill had touched the back of her neck and was more than ready to travel up and down her spine at a moment’s notice. Zach couldn’t have been less affected, as he matter-of-factly leaned over the back seat with a carefully serious expression on his face.

“Listen, Liz. No need for all of us to go in, now is there? You two stay in the car; I’ll just pop in there and…um…talk to Chet, and then—”

“Oh, no, Zach. I’ve talked to the Reverend Moody three times in the last two days, and I definitely have to be there. I thought you knew all about psychic spirits? When you said you were coming, you told me how interested you’d always been—”

“Mmm,” Zach grumbled as he cut the engine and jerked out of the car. Opening the door for his mother-in-law, he watched Elizabeth dart out and start up the dark, winding path, as excited as a little kid, her hands firmly clasped in front of her. Exasperation warred with humor inside of him.

Bett slipped an arm around Zach’s waist, glancing up at him as they strolled up the walk. “You’re really irritated, aren’t you?”

He squeezed her shoulder. “Not at you.” A hiss and a snarl from the front porch made Bett stiffen in alarm. “A black cat,” he murmured under his breath. “Why am I not surprised?”

Bett relaxed again. “Behave yourself,” she mouthed, her lips twitching with laughter.

“Are you kidding? I
am,
”
 
he mouthed back.

Reverend Moody was already greeting Elizabeth at the door. He was a gray-haired man with a long face, soulful eyes and a black suit that was just a touch shiny in the seat. He chattered to Elizabeth as if he’d just found a long-lost friend, eyed Bett at length from head to toe and wasted a fleeting disappointed look as he registered Zach’s presence.