Caught in a Bind Page 6

  “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.

  Mr. Montgomery glanced at me again to see if he’d missed something. Apparently he decided he hadn’t because he looked at Curt without understanding. Then his gaze slid over Curt’s shoulder, and he broke into a wide grin.

  “Ah. Here she comes.”

  Curt’s head swung in the direction of Mr. Montgomery’s look. In fact, the head of every man in the room swung in that direction, and a few of the women’s heads too.

  I turned and my blood chilled.

  A blonde with the most perfect features I’d ever seen glided up to us, her eyes fixed on Curt. I’d seen lionesses look less predatory as they circled a wildebeest in a nature film on Animal Planet. She was dressed in black from the tiny straps of her slip dress to the toes of her four-inch stilettos. She looked sleek and sophisticated and perfect.

  Suddenly I felt every one of the thirty dollars I’d paid for my dress.

  “Dad,” she said in a husky warm voice. She stood on tiptoe as Jonathan Montgomery leaned down to receive her kiss on the cheek. “Quite a crowd. A success, aren’t we?”

  Then her eyes were on Curt in a proprietary way that made me most annoyed. I was the only one allowed to look at him like that.

  “And Curt.” She leaned up and gave him a kiss on the cheek, leaving a perfect petal-pink imprint on his skin. She tucked her arm in his, her perfectly manicured, utterly synthetic nails resting lightly on his jacket sleeve. “How wonderful to see you again,” she all but purred. “I’ve missed you since yesterday.”

  Curt smiled fatuously into her big blue eyes. After an eternity, he blinked and recalled who he’d come to the dance with.

  “Delia, I’d like you to meet—”

  “Curt,” Delia interrupted. “I need something to drink. It was a long drive from Philadelphia, and I even closed the gallery early to make it for Dad’s special night. It’s all made me quite thirsty.” She smiled up at him. “To say nothing of hungry. Help me out here?”

  Before he knew what hit him, he was halfway across the room. He looked back over his shoulder at me and made a helpless face that was supposed to convey what-was-I-to-do? I felt like making a return face that said drop dead. The trouble was that I wanted to make it at Delia, and she was too busy fawning over Curt to deign to glance my way.

  “Well, if it isn’t Delia Big Deal-ia Montgomery,” said an acid voice in my ear.

  “Jolene!” I spun around, nearly poking Reilly in the stomach with my elbow as I did. “You know her?”

  “Sure,” Jolene said. “Everyone knows Delia.”

  Reilly nodded. “Can’t say they all like her.” He smiled indulgently at his wife, who looked gorgeous in a vivid red sequin-and-chiffon number. “That homecoming-queen crown was a prized treasure, you know.”

  “She cheated, Reilly! You know she did!” Jolene’s eyes flashed and her cheeks flushed. “She got people to vote three and four times. I mean, nobody liked her. She had to buy her votes!”

  “I suspect she did, Jo, my sweet. But it was a long time ago and I think it’s probably time to let go of the anger, don’t you?”

  “Sure you do.” Jolene made a face at her husband. “It wasn’t you she beat.”

  “No, but it was me who won. I got you.” And he gave his wife a bend-over-backwards kiss right in front of everyone.

  For once Jolene was speechless.

  Grinning at his success, Reilly turned to me. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  I never got to answer him because just then I spotted Edie coming in the front door. She was pale, not quite put together and plastered.

  Mac saw her and swore softly. Reilly sighed. Jo took off across the room so fast that I practically had to run to keep up with her. We got to Edie just before she took her place in the receiving line.

  “Ladies’ room.” Jo grabbed Edie’s right arm.

  “Good idea.” I grabbed her left.

  “Hey!” Edie wasn’t quite certain what was going on. “Let me go. I wanna meet Mishter Mon’gomery.”

  “That’s what we’re afraid of,” I muttered.

  We got Edie into the ladies’ room without incident, and once in there we claimed the sofa in the anteroom. Jo and I sat on the edge of the sofa on either side of the slumping Edie.

  “I take it Tom hasn’t come home,” Jo said.

  “Or called,” I added.

  Two big tears rolled neatly down the pathway made on Edie’s cheeks by previously melted mascara.

  “Ranny tole me to stay home.”

  “For once, Randy was right.” I patted her hand. When in doubt….

  “But I need to meet the new boss.” She pronounced it bosh.

  “I think not,” Jo said. “You want your job come Monday, don’t you?”

  Two more tears. “I don’t care.” She was deeply into self-pity. “I just came for Mac. I want him to have his job.”

  “That was very thoughtful.” I cringed at what a drunk Edie might mean to Mac’s career.

  “Thoughtful, schmoughtful.” Jolene stood and stared down at Edie. “If Mr. Montgomery saw you now, he’d fire Mac for hiring incompetents.”

  Edie drew herself up, quite a feat when you’re slouching on a sofa. “I’m not incompetent.”

  “You couldn’t prove it tonight.” Jolene stalked to the sinks, grabbed a fistful of paper towels and stuck them under the cold water. Then she walked purposefully to Edie.

  Poor Edie never saw it coming.

  Jolene was just finishing her forceful washing of Edie’s face with Edie batting ineffectually when the door opened and Delia glided in.

  Everyone froze for a moment. Then my stomach dropped and my hands turned cold. Of all the people who shouldn’t see Edie, it was Delia.

  She smiled nastily at Edie, who was too miserable to notice. “I see you still know how to pick your friends, Jolene Marie.”

  “Nice to see you, too, Delia.” Jolene smiled regally, as if bathing snockered friends was the posh thing to do.

  Delia walked to the mirror and checked her perfect makeup. She pulled out a lip pencil and colored her already perfectly colored mouth. Satisfied, she turned to leave. She looked at us and contempt oozed from every glamorous pore.

  “Did you hear that?” I demanded as the door shut.

  “What?” Jo asked, staring daggers in Delia’s direction.

  “Her silent sniff! I never heard anything like it.”

  “I heard it too,” Edie lay her head on the back of the sofa. “She doesn’t like us.” Her sniff was very audible. “Where is he?”

  Both Jo and I decided to treat the question as rhetorical.
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br />   Jolene reached into her little silver evening bag and pulled out a lipstick. She rubbed some on her index finger and then rubbed her finger over Edie’s pallid cheeks. She did this until Edie looked healthy again. Then she carefully put some on Edie’s lips. “I don’t have any mascara with me, but we can’t risk her crying it all over herself again anyway.”

  I reached in my little black bag and pulled out a tiny metal bristled brush. “Sit up, Edie. It’s hair time.”

  While I brushed, Jo asked. “Do you think there’s coffee out there anywhere?”

  “Probably not.” I pulled Edie to her feet. She barely swayed. I smoothed her green dress over her hips and tugged at the hem to get it to lie smoothly. It was a bit snug, but not as snug as the skirts she usually wore to work.

  Jolene circled Edie and nodded in approval. “If one of us is always holding her elbow, I think we’ll be okay. Just don’t let her near Mr. Montgomery.”

  “But I have to meet him,” Edie said. “Now’s not a good time,” Jo said. “We don’t want him to get mad at Mac.”

  “No, we don’t,” Edie agreed. “We want Mac.”

  “Shoulders back, Edie.” I took her elbow. “Here we go.”

  We walked back to the Brennan Room, and no one but Mac and Reilly even knew we’d been gone. I snagged a Perrier with a twist of lime and handed it to Edie. She took it eagerly until she realized it was Perrier and not champagne or some such thing. As we stood in a small knot near one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could have sworn I saw a man with a bicycle staring in. I blinked, and the impression was gone. It was a good thing I was a teetotaler. If I saw visions stone cold sober, what would I see if I drank?

  Occasionally through the interminable evening, I glimpsed Curt in the distance, always with Delia hanging on his arm. She’d look up at him with an adoring look that made my stomach clench. I was the one who gave him adoring looks. Only me.

  “I hear her local gallery is having its grand opening Wednesday night,” Mac said as he watched me watch her.

  “Her local gallery?”

  “Sure. Intimations.”

  I stared at Mac in dismay. “Intimations is hers?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “Well, no. I mean I knew about Intimations. Curt’s the first show and there’s the gala opening and all kinds of exciting stuff. The owner has great connections in art circles.” I studied my little black bag. “I just didn’t know she was Intimations.”