She surrendered and moved toward the door. “All right, you’re terrific. I’m sorry I’m being bitchy. I’m nervous about this weekend. I don’t want to let you down.”
“You won’t,” Nick said.
Tess shook her head. “I’m not good at lying. Or at being submissive. And I think Norbert Welch is an obnoxious cynic who relieves his insecurities by deliberately annoying everyone with his smug novels. I probably shouldn’t mention that this weekend, though.”
“Probably not,” Nick said. “But you probably will, anyway.” He sounded resigned, but not glum. In fact, he seemed pretty buoyant.
“You’re really optimistic about this, aren’t you?”
Tess said, smiling because he seemed so genuinely happy. “You really think this is going to work.”
“I’m just glad to be with you again. I missed you.”
Tess stopped smiling. “Oh.”
“I know.” Nick leaned against the wall, the suitcase dangling from one hand. “Don’t say it. You’ve been doing perfectly well without me.”
“No, I’ve missed you, too,” Tess admitted. “I hate it, but I have.”
“I know you have,” Nick said. “I am amazed you admit it, though.”
“I’m trying to remember whether it was your confidence or your politics that annoyed me more,” Tess said.
“Forget that,” Nick said. “Concentrate on what drew you to me.”
Tess picked up the hanger that held her plastic-wrapped dress and walked past him to the door. “That would be your companionship, which gave me the ability to do my laundry in the basement without being mugged.”
“Resist all you want,” Nick said, following her out. “It’s not going to do you any good. You’re with the best, babe.”
He grinned when she snorted in mock disgust and locked the door behind them.
Four
The ride to Kentucky in the late September afternoon was lovely, and Tess let her mind wander, lulled by the warm sunlight that was slowly changing to cool dusk outside her window. Nick’s car, a black BMW, was too expensive and too ostentatious, but it rode like a dream, and she snuggled deeper into the seat, loving the comfort of the butter-soft leather.
“I love this car,” she said finally.
Nick looked at her in surprise. “Really? This grossly expensive symbol of conspicuous consumption? I don’t believe it.”
“Well, it is that. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t sweet.” She turned her head to look at him. “I like being with you, too, you know. When you’re like this. I could ride this way forever.”
“I knew you’d be putty in my hands,” Nick said. “Play your cards right, sweetheart, and I’ll give you a ride home, too.”
“You do the worst Bogart in the world.”
“Yeah, but I’m getting better.”
“Yeah, but it’s still the worst.”
Nick grinned over at her, and Tess felt her heart lurch a little. Stop that, she told herself.
“This idea you have of working at Decker is great,” Nick said, as he swung onto the bridge at the Ohio River. “It would be a good career move for you.”
“It’s not a career move,” Tess said, craning her neck like a little kid to look out at the water. “I just need to support myself so I can work at the Foundation.”
“You know, I don’t understand that,” Nick said. “Teaching is teaching. The only difference between the Foundation and Decker is that at Decker you’ll get paid a decent salary and—here’s a bonus—you won’t get mugged.”
“No,” Tess said. “The difference is that the kids at the Foundation need me more than the kids at Decker. But they’re all kids, so it’ll be all right. I like kids.” She frowned down at the river. “I think I’d like to live on a houseboat.”
“And Decker is a big step up,” Nick went on. “If Sigler likes you, you could easily move into administration—”
“I’d die first,” Tess said. “How do houseboats work exactly? I mean, the plumbing.”
“—and with your brains and focus you could be running the place in a year,” Nick finished. “I think this is just what you needed to get your life together.”
“What?” Tess said. “Running what place?”
“You, in administration at Decker,” Nick repeated. “Great idea.”
Tess shook her head in disbelief. “Let me out of this car.”
“What?” Nick said, startled. “What’s wrong now?”
“Listen to me, very carefully,” Tess said. “I do not want to run the Decker Academy. I want to teach at the Foundation where I make a difference. To do that, I will do almost anything, but I will not, under any circumstances, become an administrator and stand around in a suit. Suits make me itch. Is that clear?”
Nick shrugged. “Sure. It was just a thought.”
“You have terrible thoughts,” Tess said. “Keep them to yourself. Now about my houseboat…”
“You have a houseboat?” Nick said. “Since when do you have a houseboat? What are you talking about?”
“And they say communication is the foundation of a good marriage,” Tess said sadly. “We’re doomed. Of course, I knew that. The apron was a big tip-off.”
“I don’t get the apron thing, either,” Nick said. “Is this some Betty Crocker fantasy?”
“I was thinking about baking pie and then making love on the kitchen table.”
“You can bake pie?” Nick asked, incredulous.
“No,” Tess said. “I told you, it was a fantasy.”
“Right,” Nick said. “But you can make love on a kitchen table. I think that needs more discussion. Like later, in my kitchen.”
“I can make love in the front seat of a car, too,” Tess said. “Not that you’ll ever know, Mr. Conservative.”
“Speaking of conservative,” Nick said, hastily changing the subject, “thanks for getting Park a date.”
“Oh,” Tess said innocently. “Did you talk to him? What did he say about her?”
“Nothing.” Nick cast a suspicious glance at her. “What did you do? Who is this woman?”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Tess said. “This is a woman who can handle any situation. She’ll be whatever Park needs her to be.” She stopped at the idea. “Within reason. Park wouldn’t make a pass on a first date, would he?”
Nick’s expression said “Sure, he would” but he said, “Of course not. Stop worrying.”
“Tell me about this partnership deal,” Tess said before he could ask any more questions, and Nick smiled and began to discuss the implications of getting his name on the door.
TWO HOURS LATER, dusk had settled over Kentucky, and they were at Welch’s country place, a gem of a white house ringed by rolling hills and white fences and so many beautiful horses that Tess fully expected to see the young Liz Taylor sobbing into a mane at any minute.
“It looks like a movie set,” Tess said as Nick pulled the car into the long lane.
“The Long Hot Summer,” Nick said. “Great movie.”
“With Welch as Will Varner?” Tess considered it. “Could work.”
“Sure,” Nick said. “And I’ll do the Paul Newman part and you can do Joanne Woodward’s.”
“That works,” Tess said. “As I recall, they didn’t sleep together in that movie. Just a lot of sexual tension.”
“They were going to at the end,” Nick said. “They were in the bedroom, laughing.”
“They were getting married,” Tess pointed out.
Nick parked the car beside Park’s at the end of the lane. “Could work.”
“What?”
Nick got out of the car and walked around to open her door, but she was already tripping out onto the gravel.
“I said, ‘Could work,”’ Nick repeated as he caught her upright.
“Getting married? Us? Are you nuts?”
“Yes,” Nick said. “But it’s situational madness. When I’m not around you, I’m a fully functioning adult. Don’t worry. The urge will go aw
ay once I’m back in the city.”
“Well, until then, try not to make any other insane suggestions,” Tess said. “We’re in public.”
She jerked on the hem of her jacket and started up the steps.
“You know—” Nick began, but then the door opened, and he shut up. Tess looked up to find an aging monolith in a severe suit waiting placidly before her, backlit by the light from the hall. He looked like a cross between Abraham Lincoln and Lurch of the Addams Family.
“Hi,” Tess said, holding out her hand. “I’m Tess Newhart.”
“How do you do, Miss Newhart,” the man said, nodding. “I am Henderson, Mr. Welch’s manservant.” He stepped back from the door, and Tess dropped her hand and stepped through, prodded from behind by Nick and the suitcase.
“If you’ll follow me,” Henderson said, “I will show you to your rooms. I hope you’ll find your stay with us a most pleasant one.”
“Oh, me, too,” Tess said, and then winced as Nick bumped her with the suitcase to shut her up. “I didn’t know people had manservants anymore,” Tess whispered to Nick as they followed Henderson up the Gone with the Wind staircase. “Where do you suppose he got him? Sears?”
“Don’t start,” Nick said, and Tess laughed.
She laughed again once she was in her room and the door was shut behind her. The huge bedroom was papered in faded Early American blue and furnished in massive Early American walnut. The heavily carved bed was piled high with blue damask pillows that rose to within inches of a sampler that said “Idle Hands Are the Devil’s Playground.”
Nick came through the connecting bathroom from his room to see what was so funny.
“Give the man credit for having a sense of humor.” Tess gestured to the sampler. “What a thing to hang over a bed.”
“You know,” Nick said, looking at her appraisingly, “I have idle hands.”
Tess frowned at him, mentally stomping on her traitorous thoughts about what those hands could do. “You have an idle mind. It’s not the same thing.”
“Well, come here and occupy both.” Nick grinned at her, and Tess felt her breath catch. She backed up a step.
“I don’t think so,” she said.
Nick jerked his head toward the sampler. “It’s the only moral thing to do. You wouldn’t want me to end up as the Devil’s playground, would you?”
“As far as I’m concerned, you already are the Devil’s playground,” Tess said. “I can’t believe you’re trying to seduce me with a sampler.”
“I just think the idea deserves some serious consideration.”
“Well, you’ll have a lot of time to seriously consider it tonight,” Tess said. “In your own bedroom. Go away.”
THE BEFORE-DINNER PARTY was in full but dignified swing when Nick ushered a black-creped Tess into Welch’s tastefully male living room. The place was an ostentatious display of massive walnut furniture, coffee-colored leather, beige-striped walls and enough brass to outfit a band. Welch had decorated his house in money and leather and liquor cabinets and matched sets of never-opened calf-bound books, and then filled it with people with stiff upper lips who were dressed in clothes that were so well tailored they could probably stand without the people in them.
Tess felt herself stiffen and told herself to relax, shut up and make nice. It was only for two days, and she looked properly adult in her crepe dress, a dress that had been perfectly pressed by Henderson, who had appeared at her door to suggest that her clothes might have been mussed in the packing process. Henderson was so brilliant at this that he managed to make it sound as though the wrinkles were his fault, and Tess had handed over her dress because she couldn’t bear to disappoint him by turning him down. Now he was quietly making sure that everyone found the buffet, had a full glass and wasn’t lifting the silver. Watching Henderson might make up for the weekend, Tess thought as Nick led her across the lush carpet to the padded bar. It was so rare to see a man who simply took care of everything and then faded into the background. This must be why men liked having wives. Since she wasn’t eligible for a wife, maybe someday she could have a Henderson. Maybe Nick would give her one for Christmas. It did seem mercenary of her, but she was prepared to share him with Gina. Gina would love having a Henderson.
Then she saw Gina standing at the bar, looking up at Park with her face glowing.
Not good.
“What’s wrong?” Nick asked.
“Nothing,” Tess said. Park must have turned on the charm on the drive down. She watched him with Gina for a moment and then tried to make herself be fair. He was smiling down at Gina, laughing with her, paying absolutely rapt attention to her. No wonder she was glowing. Still, there was no point in Gina’s getting involved with Park. Park made movie stars look stable.
“That’s Gina,” Nick said, startled.
“Of course that’s Gina,” Tess said, still annoyed with Park. “You told me to get Park a date.”
“I told you to get him a respectable date.”
“Hey.” Tess transferred her annoyance to Nick the lawyer. “That’s my best friend you’re trashing there. Back off.”
“I like Gina,” Nick said, and then looked back at the bar with a troubled face. “But frankly I don’t think her grammar and her gum are up to this kind of party.”
“She will do fine,” Tess said coldly, and stomped toward the bar, enraged with Nick and with Park and with herself for getting Gina into this.
“Oh, great. Tess Trueheart in person,” Park said when they reached them. He looked at Nick. “I suppose you had to.”
Tess’s temper flared. This was the jerk who had lured Nick into yuppiedom, and now he was making fun of her. All the antagonism she’d felt for her landlord and the Foundation trustees and Nick fused into her glare at Park. “Great to see you, Park,” she said. “Did I ever mention that your name sounds like low-income housing?”
“Tess,” Gina said weakly.
“Still the same tact, I see,” Park said, glaring back.
“Still the same tan, I see,” Tess said. “You know, studies have shown that excessive tanning—”
“Gina, you look terrific,” Nick said, kicking Tess smartly on the ankle.
“—can lead to skin cancer and premature aging,” Tess said, moving out of his reach. “Just wanted you to know.”
“Thank you,” Park said. “I’m touched.”
“Aw, Tess,” Gina said.
“Come on, Tess,” Nick muttered. “Play nice.”
“He started it,” Tess said.
“Oh, that’s mature,” Nick said. “Could you please act like an adult?”
“Tess,” Gina said pleadingly.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Let’s try this again.” Tess took a deep breath and smiled a nice bright toothpaste smile. “Hello, Park, it’s good to see you again.”
Park smiled back tightly. “Always a pleasure, Tess.”
“Now see,” Nick said, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Tess shot him a look of contempt and took Gina’s arm. “I need to talk to you,” she whispered before she turned to Park and Nick and said, “Gina and I are going to go find the ladies’ room to freshen our lipstick.”
All three of them looked at her with varying degrees of surprise.
“All right,” Tess said. “Gina will freshen hers, and I’ll put some on.”
“Right,” Gina said, gamely picking up her cue. “That would be good.”
Tess pulled Gina up the stairs to the master bathroom in search of privacy. When the door was shut behind them, she turned to Gina. “I’m worried about you. It would be a bad idea to get hung up on Park.”
“Look at this bathroom.” Gina drifted past the walls covered in mint green hand-painted tiles to stroke the porcelain of the huge pale green tub. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen tile without mildew before. This is so beautiful.”
Tess ducked under one of the dozen ferns that was suspended from the ceiling and looked around, annoyed. “If this is what the
rain forest looks like, I’m going to stop trying to save it.”
“Oh, Tess.” Gina sank into the rattan chair beside the tub. “Admit it. This is paradise.”
“No, it isn’t. You’re just confused because of the vegetation. This is merely an extremely pretentious bathroom. I bet Norbert Welch wears a sarong when he’s in here. No, that’s not right. Guys don’t wear sarongs. A loincloth.” She thought about Welch as she’d seen him pictured on the back of his last book, short, hefty and sullen, only this time in a loincloth. “Maybe not.”
“I don’t mean just the bathtub,” Gina said. “I mean everything. Everything about the way these people live. Park took me out for a drink before we left. At The Levee.” Her voice fell, hushed, on the last word.
“I’ve been,” Tess said, nodding. “Nick took me once. Overpriced food, obsequious waiters and really good wine. If they’d put in a drive-through, I’d consider going back for the wine.”
“It was so beautiful,” Gina went on, not hearing her. “And everybody was so nice and there weren’t any prices on the menu.”
“If you have to ask, you can’t afford it,” Tess said. “And they weren’t nice. They were sucking up. If you were a nobody, they’d have spat on you.”
“Well, that’s the point,” Gina said. “I am a nobody. But when I’m with Park, I’m somebody.”
“This conversation is taking an ugly turn,” Tess said sternly. “You are not a nobody.”
Gina sank back slowly in the chair, drawing her fingers back and forth across the flawless porcelain of the tub next to her as she spoke. “Ever since Park picked me up, I haven’t worried about anything. I know the car’s not gonna break down, that there’s gonna be enough money to pay for the drinks, that Park’s not gonna wrestle me down on the car seat, and that it doesn’t matter that my step-ball-change is not as good as it used to be.”
“Don’t bet on the Park-and-the-car-seat part,” Tess said, but she sounded distracted. She slid her spine down the bathroom door and sat up on the floor, trying not to tear the seams out of her crepe dress. “Are you still serious about giving up your dancing?”