Taming Theresa (13 page)

“Mr. Spangenberg, would you please bring us
some coffee?” asked Dominick

"Sure, whatever you want. Be right back."

“Theresa, I want you to take it easy with
that sprained ankle." As Dominick watched, she limped to the table
and lowered herself slowly into a chair.

Oh shit, John thought. I hope she didn’t tell
him how she hurt herself. He’ll kill me if he finds out. He studied
Dominick cautiously, gauging his mood. Bringing a second chair
closer to Theresa, he lifted her leg gently onto his lap and began
to massage her ankle.

"Please come and join us," said her father
beckoning to Joe.

“What brings you up here today?” Theresa
asked.

John was wondering the same thing. What’s he
doing in Pippin’s Grove anyway? He probably wants to make sure I'm
keeping my hands off his daughter.

"I felt like taking a drive in the country to
see if everything was going smoothly. Do you or Victoria need
anything?" asked Dominick.

“No, Daddy. John is driving me everywhere I
need to go, and helping with the decorating.” She looked amused.
“Well, if it wasn’t for him...well things might not go so
smoothly.”

“I see.” Dominick watched his daughter relax
as John slipped off her shoe and stroked from calf to foot.

“Glad to help,” he said.

"Did you know that Mr. Spangenberg is
considering selling Paulding's Rest?" He gave them a questioning
glance.

As though on cue, Ralph shouldered his way
through the door carrying a tray with a coffee carafe, cream, sugar
and cups. "Waitresses are pretty busy out there. Anything else you
want with this?"

“Do you have any of those fresh donuts or a
pastry?” asked John. “Terry missed breakfast.”

“Sure thing. Fresh this morning. Be right
back.”

John poured coffee for Theresa and passed her
the cream.

"Thanks, Babe," she said taking a sip.

Ralph came back and placed a dish piled with
donuts and pastries on the table and disappeared with a wave.

"Here you go." John pulled a cheese Danish
out, put it on a napkin, and gave it to Theresa.

Dominick smiled, "Cheese Danish, My
daughter's favorite pastry."

"Yeah, Mindy's makes great buns and stuff,"
said John passing the platter.

"I know Ralph wants to retire," Theresa
commented. “He mentioned it to me when I first stopped in to talk
to him about the wedding. Why Daddy?"

Dominick spread his hands in an expansive
gesture and looked around the room. "I have been planning to open
another restaurant, a fourth location. Your mother and I were
investigating some nearby sites. Then I said to myself, why not up
here in New York where we have family. Theresa, you're becoming
familiar with the area and I know the tavern interests you. It
occurred to me that you might want to move up and manage things for
me. With you here, looking after everything, I wouldn't worry. I
know it sounds a bit different than what we've done in the past,
but...."

"What's that?" John was wrenched from his
fantasy of making love to Terry, her long dark hair cascading over
his arms as he pulled her to him. What was Dominick saying about
Paulding's Rest? The tavern turned into an Italian spaghetti
restaurant? No! First, she brings it up and now Dominick? No way.
Theresa, please tell him it's a bad idea.

She spoke to her father while looking
directly at John. "You know Daddy, you might have something there.
We could do some renovations, change up the menu, upgrade the wine
list.... Yes, I can see the possibilities. We were talking about
this the other day, weren't we, John?" She was smirking at him.

"Uh-huh," he mumbled into his coffee mug.

Joe perked up and added his own two cents.
"You know, Mr. Buonadies that might be a good idea. As long as
Ralph is still here, running the place, I doubt that he'd change
anything, but if the tavern changed hands, well, why not an Italian
restaurant? Everybody loves Italian food and there isn't another
place for miles around. It might spruce the old Grove up a
bit."

John threw his friend a horrified glance as
though he were Benedict Arnold incarnate.

"I'm considering it. I haven't spoken yet to
Ralph. I wanted to find out if you'd be willing, Baby Doll. Then,
in the future, it could become yours entirely. We'll talk after the
wedding."

"Speaking of weddings, I've got to get back
to Marsha and start planning ours," said Joe, glancing at his
watch. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Buonadies. Terry, call us if you
need anything, okay?" He drained his coffee, rose and headed for
the door.

"Thanks Joe. I'm right behind you. Ralph and
I are going to finalize the menus. Daddy, this won't take long,"
said Theresa. She collected her crutches and followed Joe out.

John found himself alone with Theresa's
father. He cleared his throat nervously. The idea of converting
Paulding's Rest into an Italian restaurant was appalling.

"If I remember correctly, you mentioned that
you own some commercial real estate locally," said Dominick.

"Yes, I do," John answered hesitantly, unsure
why he was bringing it up.

The older man barreled ahead. "So then, you
are in a position to advise me on property values. There is a
little acreage attached to the tavern. What would be a reasonable
offer?

"The building is 150 years old. It's an
historic landmark! Its value is, well...for people around here it's
priceless."

Dominick responded patiently, "I understand
the historic nature of this location. The same holds true for much
of the Hudson Valley.

"Mr. Buonadies, I know you're familiar with
the account of Benedict Arnold selling out to the British army, who
isn't, but do you know about the spy he was in cahoots with?"

"You are referring to Major John André," said
Dominick nodding slowly. "Paulding and two companions accosted
André on the road, searched him, found incriminating documents from
Benedict Arnold, and took him to the Continental Army. Then he was
taken to Washington's headquarters where he was tried as a spy,
convicted, and executed."

"That's right, said John eagerly. "If André
had found his way to New York, the British could have captured West
Point and much of the Continental Army, perhaps capturing General
Washington as well. It would have very likely put an end to our
American Revolution."

"...and the tavern? Where does it come into
the story?"

"Well, the local folktale tells us that the
patriot, John Paulding, came here afterwards to celebrate. It's
unlikely, because the capture was down near Tarrytown, but no one
really knows."

"David Williams and Isaac Van Wart helped to
capture him. Perhaps, this Van Wart was an ancestor? Tell me about
it, if you don't mind. I'm interested."

With his coffee cup halfway to his lips, he
stared at Dominick. How did he know that? Putting the cup down
again, he said, "That's right. He was my fourth great-grandfather.
General Washington awarded each of them a special medallion for
their service. They were the first medals issued to American
private soldiers and there's been nothing quite like them since.
Washington also gave them each a brace of silver mounted pistols as
a personal gift."

"What an honor. Does your family still have
this medal?" asked Dominick.

"Two of the medals that belonged to Paulding
and Williams were in a museum in Tarrytown, but were stolen in the
seventies. We know that Isaac Van Wart's was in the possession of a
relative about a hundred and fifty years ago, but that's all we
know. It disappeared."

Dominick looked around at the dark wood
paneled walls waiting to be covered by Theresa's ivory satin. "This
building couldn't be that old."

"No," said John. "They built this just before
the Civil War on the foundation of the original tavern. The one
that was here during The Revolution."

Dominick watched his daughter thoughtfully as
Theresa came back into the room and looked around, appraising her
work. "It's an interesting story."

John stood up and stretched. "Terry, I'll
help you finish that job now."

She ignored him and started up the
ladder.

"Mr. Buonadies, you can understand how I feel
about this..."

"Eeek," screeched Theresa from the other side
of the room.

John whipped around to see that she had
climbed the ladder and was leaning way too far out, grabbing
futilely for the staple gun, as it flipped end over end in mid air.
The ladder teetered precariously. Covering the distance in three
bounds, he was just in time to catch her as the falling ladder
crashed to the floor.

He held her close as she trembled in his
arms. "Hey, it's okay. I have you."

"Oh my god! I guess I lost my balance. The
stupid stapler slipped out of my hand and I grabbed for it...."

"It's okay, Babe," he murmured into her hair.
"Are you sure you're all right"

She nodded. "I'm okay...now." She lifted her
head. With Theresa in his arms and the scent of her hair, he was
back in the SUV with the rain pelting down on the roof. Their eyes
locked together and he flushed.

She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder.
Holding her in his arms, he glanced back at Dominick. Theresa's old
man was smiling at them benevolently.

"I have alerted my friends concerning what
you overheard in the tavern. Now all they can do is wait and be
watchful." Ethan was breathless when he finally returned to the
farm after hastening to warn his fellows.

"Rest yourself." Tamsin bade him sit in her
uncle's chair, the largest one in the keeping room, and served him
a drink of cool cider from the stoneware pitcher that stood on the
table.

"John Paulding and his party send their
regards and thank you for your information. They will mind the
road," he said, after drinking deeply.

Tamsin had overheard two loyalist men she
knew conferring in the tavern. They'd kept their voices hushed,
quietly addressing their ale tankards, with hats pulled down to
shield their faces. She had not heard all, but enough to reveal
that treachery and betrayal were afoot. They had mentioned the
American Fortress on the river, General Washington's Army, and a
high-ranking officer planning to defect to the British in New
York.

As soon as she was able, Tamsin sought out
Ethan and made him aware of all she had heard. Now the rest of the
men in his militia company knew to be alert as they kept the Post
Road under surveillance.

Later they sat together in silence on the
piazza at the back of her uncle's house. A gentle breeze fanned
their faces with the crisp chill of late September. No lights shown
within, but without, all was bathed in the soft light of a full
moon. Outbuildings, fields, and the winding lane which led to the
house, were visible as at midday. Beyond a screen of trees, they
watched the sandy ribbon of the Post Road.

They sat so close to one another, that his
knee brushed hers. He moved away and then returned his knee to rest
firmly against her.

She gasped, astonished at her own reaction.
Just this small touch sent shivers of excitement coursing through
her.

"What is it?" He set down his earthenware mug
and reached for her hand.

"It's nothing," she whispered. "Only that,
Ethan...?" She felt so irresistibly drawn to him.

"Yes?" Their eyes met and held each other for
a long time.

Ethan's ragged breathing and the reluctant
last chirping of the summer crickets were the only sounds. He
grasped her hand tightly and before she knew what was happening, he
lifted her into his strong arms and sat her across his hard thighs.
She clung to him as he lowered his head until his lips met hers,
gently probing and exploring.

Without uttering another word, they both knew
the same certainty, were overwhelmed by the same desire. They were
caught up in the magic of the moonlight.

From: Love in Rebellion, by Tori Baxter

Oblivious to the turmoil in the busy tavern,
Vicky calmly sipped a glass of chardonnay as she turned the plot of
her current romance novel over in her mind. How will Ethan manage
to prevail on Tamsin to join him alone in the moonlight for that
first searing hot kiss, in the midst of a war torn and devastated
Hudson Valley? Although she knew the basic story line, typically,
the characters themselves seemed to suggest new twists and turns as
her writing progressed. The possibilities were endless.

"Hey Vicky! Hel-lo!” Diane waved a hand in
front of her face, bringing her back to earth.

Vicky blinked and recognizing her friend, she
laughed. "Hey! I didn't see you come in."

“You must have been dreaming about your
wedding." She gave Vicky a hug and slipped into a chair opposite
her.

Laughing, Vicky held up her hands and eyes
shining said, “Totally! Seriously, I'm so happy you came. Terry’s
finishing up a few things in the back room. She'll be out in a
minute and then we can order."

"Good. I'm starved.” Diane swung her long
blond curls over her shoulder. She smiled her thanks to the
waitress offering her a menu and asked, "What's that?" Nodding
towards Vicky's wine glass.

"It's a local Chardonnay. You want some?"
asked Vicky

Diane grinned, "I thought I'd get a
bottle."

"Hey, I'm good with that."

“Is Terry finished decorating the private
dining room back there? I can’t wait to see it!"

"You’ll love it. She is so amazing. You won't
recognize that shabby old room. She's totally transformed it by
draping the walls from top to bottom with those satin table clothes
you can buy for special occasions.” Vicky looked up. “Here she
comes now, poor thing."

Her cousin limped along slowly from the back
room without her crutches. Wincing, she eased herself down
carefully onto a chair and sighed heavily. "Well, Ralph likes it
and if you're satisfied with everything, I guess we're ready for
the reception Saturday."