A Fashionable Affair (15 page)

“Ow!” Patsy said, and removed Matthew’s fingers
from her hair.

Sally returned to the table. “Anyway, why are you
going?” she asked curiously. “I shouldn’t have
thought Illinois was at all your thing.”

Patsy wondered briefly whether or not to tell
Sally that it wasn’t Illinois but Michael who was her
thing, and while she hesitated, the phone rang.

Sally picked it up. “Hello,” she said impersonally,
then, “Oh, hi, Jane.” There was a long pause. “I
know. Couldn’t you just murder them?” Sally’s
voice dripped sympathy. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here
all morning. There’s no rush.” Pause. “Okay. I’ll see
you later.”

Sally hung up and came back to Patsy. “That was
Jane Nagle, a friend of mine. She’s coming over this
morning, but she’s been detained—her son flushed
something down the toilet and stopped it all up.
She’s waiting for the plumber.”

Patsy laughed. “Oh, dear.”

“Kids,” Sally said feelingly.

“How old is her son?”

“Brian—the toilet stuffer—is Steven’s age. She
has another son who’s in school and a daughter
Matthew’s age. She lives right here in town and the children play well together, so we get together once a week or so.”

The coffee stopped perking and Sally poured
two cups. Patsy put a reluctant Matthew back in his
walker and stirred milk into the cup Sally put in front of her. “Where is Steven?” she asked. “The
house seems awfully quiet.”

“Sesame Street,”
Sally answered succinctly.

“I just adore that show,” Patsy confessed. “I’ll
have to go watch it with him.”

Sally grinned. “The last time you were here Steven informed me that Aunt Patsy really wasn’t a grown-up at all. You play just like a kid, he said.”

Patsy wrinkled her nose ruefully. “I’m sure he
meant it as a compliment.”

“It’s part of your charm,” Sally assured her.
Then, changing the subject, “When did Michael say
he’d be back?”

“Around two.”

“That’s okay, then. Jane should be gone by then.
She has to be back before Justin gets home from
school.”

“Er, is there any particular reason you don’t want Michael and Jane to meet?” Patsy asked.

“Yes. You see, Jane Nagle used to be Jane
Anderson.”

“Oh?” said Patsy blankly.

“You probably wouldn’t remember, but Jane
Anderson was Michael’s college girlfriend. That’s how I met her. She and Michael went together for the four years he was in school. Steve and I were sure they were going to get married when they
graduated.”

“I see,” Patsy said slowly. “What happened?”

‘I don’t really know.” Sally put her elbows on the
table. “I mean, they were inseparable for four
years, and then all of a sudden Jane turned around
and married Larry Nagle. It really threw me. And I
have a feeling it threw Michael too.”

“Do you think so?” Patsy asked hollowly.

“Yes. He’s never been serious about a girl since.
They always seem to be just—-just—”

“Diversions,” Patsy said, quoting Michael.

“Yes, diversions. I’m afraid he really loved Jane
and has just never gotten over her. Jane and I ran
into each other at an aerobics class at the Y shortly
after Steve and I moved back to Long Island, and as I said, we’ve gotten together regularly since. But I’d
rather Michael didn’t meet her again. I’m afraid it
might hurt him.”

“I see your point.” Patsy’s face was carefully
expressionless. “Poor Michael,” she said.

Sally sighed. “I know. As far as I can see, the
world is crawling with girls just dying to marry
Michael and wouldn’t you know he’d fall in love
with someone who wasn’t.”

Patsy, who numbered among the multitudes
dying to marry Michael, felt suddenly unwell. The
coffee tasted bitter and her stomach was churning.
She looked at the clock. “I’m going to miss
Sesame
Street,”
she said. She reached down and scooped
up Matthew once again. “You can tidy up your
kitchen and I’ll entertain the kids,” she informed
Sally, and with Matthew tucked firmly in her arm,
she went off to the family room and Kermit the
Frog.

She was still in the family room, helping Steven to
do puzzles, when the doorbell rang. “It’s Brian!” Steven shouted, and jumped to his feet. Matthew
stopped banging on his walker tray, looked at his
brother, and promptly began to cry. He knew he
was missing the action.

“All right, sweetie,” Patsy said. “We’ll go too.”
And with Matthew’s soft warmth balanced on her
hip, Patsy went out to meet the girl Michael loved.

Jane Nagle was small and slim, with long black
hair and dark-blue eyes. She had a baby in her arms
and a toddler at her knees, and she was laughing at Sally as she recounted her troubles with the toilet.
Patsy was astonished by the physical pang of jeal
ousy and dislike that ripped through her at the
sight of Jane.

“Jane, this is my good friend Patsy Clark,” Sally
said.

“Hi,” Jane said with a friendly smile. The blue
eyes widened. “She’s even more beautiful in person than she is in the magazines,” she said to Sally in
honest surprise. Jane had, Patsy noted sourly, a
charmingly husky voice.

“I know.” Sally sounded rueful. “Can you imagine what my teenage years were like, with a best
friend who looks like Patsy?”

“Come off it, Sally,” Patsy said with a smile. “Nice
to meet you, Jane. And can you imagine how I felt with a best friend as smart as Sally?”

Jane grinned. “What is this? A mutual-admi
ration society?” Both Sally and Patsy laughed.

Jane stayed for lunch and Patsy was forced to
admit that she was a lovely, charming woman. Patsy
would have liked her very much if it weren’t for
Michael. As things stood, she disliked Jane
intensely and was appalled by her own antipathy. Patsy had never been jealous in her life and was
utterly unprepared to deal with such a demor
alizing and primitive emotion.

Jane began to leave at one-thirty, with Sally mak
ing every effort to assist her on her way. But
Megan, Jane’s daughter, needed a new diaper and
Brian had to go to the bathroom, so it was one-fifty
by the time Jane had everyone dressed and organ
ized. The whole crowd was in the kitchen making
their farewells when the back door opened and
Michael walked in.

“Michael!” Sally said instantly. “How nice that
you came in time to see Jane. She’s just leaving.”

“Jane.” Michael looked startled at first and then,
as his eyes rested on the small slender figure of his
former love, definitely pleased. “Jane,” he
repeated, and smiled. “How are you? Don’t tell me
these two Indians are yours?”

A very faint flush rose under Jane’s fair skin.
“Yes,” she replied, “they are. That’s Brian and
this”—she shifted the baby slightly in her arms—”is
Megan.”

“They’re beautiful,” Michael said with every
appearance of sincerity.

“Thank you.” There was a stiffness to Jane’s
voice Patsy had not heard earlier. “You’re looking well, Michael,” she added with a visible trace of effort. The dark-blue eyes scanned his face. “You look older.”

Michael grinned. “Thanks a lot, Jane. I won’t
return the compliment.”

For the first time since he had come in, Jane
smiled naturally. “I didn’t mean that the way it
came out. I meant you look more—more—”

“Authoritative,” Patsy supplied helpfully.

“Yes.” Jane looked at Patsy. “That’s what I
meant.”

“I thought so, too,” Patsy said. “I expect it comes
from years and years of bossing people around.”

“I never boss anyone,” Michael protested.

“Hah,” his sister said.

He feinted a movement toward the door. “Hey, if
this is going to continue, I’m getting out of here.
Three against one is no fair.”

Jane laughed. “I’m the one whose leaving. I have
to get home before my other son gets back from school.” She turned to Sally. “Many thanks for the
lunch, Sally. I’ll call you. It was nice to meet you, Patsy.” Lastly, she turned to Michael. “It was good
seeing you again, Michael.”

Michael’s face was oddly grave as he looked at
her. “Good to see you too, Jane.” His voice was soft.
“Take care of yourself.”

“Yes.” She smiled brilliantly. “I will. Come on,
Brian,” and putting a hand on her son’s shoulder, she steered him to the kitchen door.

“I’ll help with the car seats,” Sally offered, open
ing the door and following Jane out, leaving
Michael and Patsy alone in the kitchen.

Patsy didn’t say anything, nor did Michael, for a
long moment. Then he looked at her and smiled.
“Are you ready to go?”

“Pretty much. Do you want a bite of lunch? We have time.”

“That’s not a bad idea. God knows what rot we’ll
get on the plane.”

“Poor baby.” It was Sally coming back into the
kitchen. “How about ham and cheese on rye?”

“Sounds great.” Michael took off his suit jacket
and hung it over the back of a kitchen chair and
then sat down. He picked up Steven and sat him on
his knee and said to his sister, “I didn’t know you
still saw Jane.”

“We ran into each other a while back at the Y.”

Michael began to tickle Steven. “She looks terrific,” he said over the little boy’s giggles. “I can’t
believe she has three kids.”

“Um.” Sally put a sandwich and a beer in front of him. “All right, Steven. Let Uncle Michael eat his
lunch now.”

Steven reluctantly got off Michael’s lap. “Can I have a drink?” he asked in his best poor-little-waif
voice.

“Sit down, Sally,” Patsy said. “I’ll get him some
thing.” She went to the refrigerator, trailed by the
little boy.

“What are you and Patsy up to anyway?” Sally
asked her brother curiously. “And what’s the matter with your car that Patsy had to drive out to be
your chauffeur?”

Patsy slowly poured Steven a glass of apple juice.
So that’s what he’d told his sister. Evidently he
didn’t want Sally to know he was staying with her. It
was a good thing she had kept her mouth shut
earlier.

“We’re going to check on that Illinois shopping
center of Patsy’s.” Michael took a long pull of beer.
“Fred put quite a lot of her money into buying
shares.”

“Oh God, Patsy,” Sally said, turning in her chair
to face her. “I hope this doesn’t turn out to be as
bad as it sounds.”

Patsy put the juice in the refrigerator and came back to the table. “Well”—she forced a smile—
“we’ll soon know, won’t we?”

“Yep,” Michael said cheerfully. He drained the
last of the beer and stood up. “Time to go.”

“When will you be back?” Sally asked as she
accompanied them to Patsy’s car.

“Possibly tomorrow—maybe the day after. It
depends on what we find. We’ll leave the car
parked at the airport.”

Patsy rolled down her window. “I don’t think
there’s a damn thing wrong with his car,” she
remarked to Sally. “He just doesn’t want to leave it
in the long-term parking in case it gets stolen.”

“It needs a new alternator,” Michael said calmly. “
Bye, Sally. I’ll call you and let you know how
things went.”

Patsy smiled. “See you, Sal.”

“I hope everything turns out okay,” Sally said fer
vently.

“So do I.” But, unlike Sally, Patsy wasn’t thinking
of any of her shopping centers.”

They flew into St. Louis, rented a car at
the airport,
crossed the Mississippi into Illinois, and headed
north on Route 55.

“The shopping center is supposed to be between Alton and Springfield.” Michael told her as they
drove through the industrial areas of East St. Louis.

“Where would you put a shopping center here?”
Patsy asked doubtfully, looking out her window at
the steel mill belching smoke against the gray sky.