AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Van realized, to his surprise, that he was uneasy aboutthisHusbandParade.LongingforAuntCynthia to get married was one thing. Seeing her do it was another, even if it had been his idea. And he didn’t know why.
Maybe it was the whole idea of anybody committing the act of mar — getting hitched.
Hmm, he was pretty far gone if he didn’t want to give voice to the “m” word inside his own head.
The other difficult female in his life at the moment had used a four-letter word that also never passed his lips. She had said she could be in lo —
Yeah, that.
Maybe he’d imagined the “l” word. You think?
No, he didn’t think.
He probed the “l” thought cautiously, as he would have tongued a tooth in need of a root canal. She’d said something else he’d only half heard, such was his shock over the rest of what she had said.
It would be safer that way, and she could explain how.
He shuddered. He couldn’t imagine the how.
Never mind. That tooth in need of the root canal was not getting any more attention right now. He would mull the matter later, in private, with no distractions, and when he wasn’t trying to tamp down his annoyance at her delay in handing him the screwdriver.
Van gave the screw holding a brass handle on his tenth kitchen drawer one last tightening twist, and sat back on his heels. He should fix her broken bed frame next. Was it safe to do that? Probably not. But he had to be prepared. He needed to know he wouldn’t break both their necks when he decided to use that bed with Mary. No, ifhe decided to use it. No, of course he wasn’t going to use it.
If he wasn’t going to use it, he’d better get out of here, right now.
Chapter Thirteen
The Party and theProf
P
ARTY PLANNING WITH CYNwas Project Impractical, Mary found, but the woman always made it work.
“We can’t do that,” Mary said more times than her frayed nerves wanted to count.
“Piffle,” Cyn would say with an airy wave of her hand.
She was always right. She might even turn Mary intoanoptimistoneday,whichwouldbegoingsome for a twig from the doomed Samuel family tree.
Cyn had even been right about holding the party in the spectacular walled garden surrounding her building’s fantasy pool and fountain.
“What if it rains?” Mary had wailed.
“It won’t,” Cyn had said loftily.
So, Mary had lined up massive garden tents just in case, and swigged antacid from a perfectly timed two-for-one sale. Cyn had serenely delighted in planning party food with Uncle Brock.
As Mary stepped into the garden on Husband Hunt night, she appreciated every bit of Cyn’s genius. It hadallcometogetherinasoft,silkeneveningawash with moonlight and flickering candlelight glinting off the sparkling water of the giant pool in the center of the walled garden/outdoor party room.
Uncle Brock’s canapés were as irresistible as always. They would keep the guests locked in until they had to pass discreetly placed guilt-producing donation boxes for the Toronado Animal Rescue League on the way in to a late supper. In the unlikely event the amuses-bouchesdidn’t work, the champagne would.
Cyn was a regal presence sheathed in red and glittering with diamonds. She hovered near the entrance, attuned to the newest checkbooks — er, party-goers — making their way into one of the most eagerly attended soirées of the social season.
Mary was reasonably satisfied with her own appearance,whichincludedblacksequins,theneckline down to here and the back down to there, and all of it fitting like a second skin. She wiggled experimentally. The dress felt like nothing there, except across the chest, or what little of her chest was covered. There the genius designer had installed loose folds that stayed where they should be, except when she bent over, but looked as though they would unfold at any second whether she bent over or not. Amazing what you could find sometimes at a vintage-clothing store.
She bent over experimentally, pretending to pick up a speck of something or other. She heard a chokingsoundfromafewfeetaboveherheadandlooked up. Good thing she looked before she straightened. Van had appeared and stood so close she’d have banged her head on him as she stood tall.
His face sagged a little in what Mary took for sorrow that he would not get an eyeful. No, she wasn’t “reasonably satisfied” with her appearance. She was downright smug. And relieved. Van had made himself scarce since the bed incident, so she had longed to look alluring tonight.
