Belinda (11 page)

In the end, though, he decided to be selfish
and present the gift to her in a private ceremony.

That evening, he sat quietly through dinner,
watching and marveling at the rapport between Belinda and the
children.

“Can we show Daddy our secret now?” Betsy
said in a loud whisper as she leaned toward Belinda.

“After dinner,” Belinda told her. Her glance
slid toward Reeve. He smiled. His life had taken on an order and a
routine that was exceedingly pleasing to him.

“And what is this big secret, sweetheart?” he
asked his daughter.

“If she tells, it won’t be a secret,” Mark
chimed in.

“Can we skip dessert, Daddy?” Betsy bounced
up and down in her chair, clapping her hands. “Can we?”

“If this big secret is waiting until after
dinner, I suggest we adjourn to the den. We can have dessert
later.”

Betsy and Mark jumped out of their chairs and
scampered out of the room, laughing and chattering. “We’ll meet you
in the den, Daddy,” Mark called over his shoulder.

“Shall we?” Reeve offered his arm to
Belinda—a habit he had developed in the past few days—and escorted
her to the den. She glided along beside him, tall and lovely, like
a long-stemmed summer flower. He had a vision of her in her new
dress. It seemed that tonight was a night for surprises.

Reeve took his customary chair in the den,
and Belinda sat on the sofa and spread her skirts. He watched her,
waiting for another ritual—the smoothing of her stockings. Her hair
swung forward in a bright fan of gold as she leaned down and ran
her hands down her legs. This time her stockings had tiny sequined
diamond shapes.

A satisfied sigh escaped Reeve’s lips. It was
funny how these small nightly rituals soothed him. Even more
mystifying was the way he looked forward to finding out what sort
of decorations would adorn Belinda’s stockings. Sometimes, late in
the afternoons, he found himself gazing out the window of his
office, wondering whether she would have hearts or diamonds or bows
marching in a glittering row down her slim legs.

Thank God nobody around here could read
minds. He leaned back in his chair, content.

Betsy and Mark bounded into the room, trailed
by Quincy.

“Lord have mercy, Mr. Reeve,” she said,
puffing as she lumbered toward her chair. “The children are enough
to wear Belinda to a frazzle. But she’s always just as lively as if
she’d come up from eight hours’ sleep on a feather comforter.” She
fanned herself with her apron. “I never saw a woman take to a job
the way she has.” She smiled over at Belinda.

Reeve laughed. “Didn’t I tell you, Quincy?
Belinda’s job is permanent.”

“Nothin’ has ever been permanent with you
before. Specially where the children’s concerned. I just thought
I’d get my two cents’ worth in. That’s all.”

“Point taken, Quincy.” He hugged Betsy close
as she sidled up to him. “Now, sweetheart, what’s this big surprise
you and Mark have been keeping for Daddy?”

“This.” Betsy pulled a willow whistle from
behind her back.

Mark came forward with his whistle. “And
guess what? Belinda helped us make them!”

Reeve inspected the whistle. It was a small
willow flute, ingeniously made.

“You keep surprising me, Belinda. You’re a
woman of many talents.”

“Shoot. It’s just a little old whistle. Daddy
taught us how to make them down in Georgia. See, we didn’t have
money to spend on fancy toys and stuff, so we had to make do with
what we had. Anyhow, that’s not important. The important thing is I
always remembered my daddy showing me how to make that whistle and
the good times we had picking out tunes. I just think it’s good to
really be a part of children’s lives.”

She paused, her cheeks flushed, then turned
to Betsy and Mark. “Are you ready for the show, children?”

Betsy and Mark stood side by side in front of
Reeve’s chair, their faces important-looking, and lifted their
flutes to their lips. At first he couldn’t tell that the sounds
they were making were music; but gradually he began to distinguish
the tune. They were playing a shaky but enthusiastic rendition of
“Yankee Doodle.”

As he listened to the music, a part of his
mind was occupied with the things Belinda had said. She was a very
wise woman. And he had set himself up as her teacher. The wonderful
irony was that it appeared
he
was the one learning most of
the lessons.

He was both amused and proud. With raw
material like that, there was no telling what he could
accomplish.

The children finished their song; then
everybody had dessert. When it was time for the children’s baths
and bed, they kissed him goodnight, then Belinda took their hands
and excused herself.

She was halfway across the room before Reeve
spoke. “Belinda.” She paused, glancing over her shoulder. “I’d like
to see you after you’ve tucked the children in.”

“In your office?”

“No. Here.”

“Certainly.” She nodded and left the room,
the children in tow.

After they had gone, closing the door behind
them, Quincy settled back into her chair and gave Reeve a sassy
grin.

“What was that for, Quincy?”

“You like her, don’t you?”

“She’s the best nanny I’ve ever had.”

“I’m not talkin’ about nannies. I’m talkin’
personal.”

“Sometimes you talk too much, Quincy.”

“I’m seein’ developments, and I’m likin’ what
I see.”

“If you’re putting two and two together and
getting
family
, you can get that thought out of your
mind.”

“I’m not sayin’ what I’m puttin’ together.”
Quincy grinned.

“Good.” Reeve gave his faithful old
housekeeper what he considered his best I’m-the-boss look. Because
she was not the least bit impressed, he added, “My relationship
with Belinda Diamond is strictly business—and that’s all it’s ever
going to be. I don’t intend to lose a good nanny.”

“No, indeedy.” Chuckling, Quincy rose
laboriously from her chair. “I’m goin’ to bed.” She lumbered across
the room, then turned for one last comment. “Sure does get
lonesome, just one in a bed.”

Reeve declined to comment. He knew Quincy
would have the last word, anyway.

He sat in his chair for a moment after Quincy
had gone, smiling to himself. His gift was tucked in the
entertainment center, out of sight. He glanced around the den and
suddenly decided,
Why not?

He put a good blues CD on the stereo, took
out a bottle of wine and turned the lights down low. Then he sat
down in his chair to wait for Belinda Diamond.

After the children were settled into their
beds, Belinda made her way back down the vast hallway toward the
den where Reeve waited. What in the world did he want to see her
about? Had she done something wrong?

No use expecting the worst, she told herself.
Then she lifted her chin and tried to think positively. Maybe he
wanted another dance lesson.

She eased open the den door, expecting to see
the lights blazing just the way she’d left them. Instead, she had
to stand in the doorway and adjust her eyes to the gloom.

“Reeve?”

“Over here.”

He was still in the chair where she had left
him, but he had been a busy man since she’d been gone. Soft blues
music filled the room, and in the semidarkness she spotted two
crystal wine goblets on the coffee table, catching the
lamplight.

“Well, I’ll be...” she said as she walked
into the room.

“Please close the door behind you.”

She eased the door shut, then she stood
uncertainly.

Reeve stood up, tall and handsome and formal.
“Won’t you please sit down, Belinda?”

She wasn’t about to be intimidated by
circumstances. If there was one thing she’d learned from the
friends she’d made at Camp Piomingo so many years ago it was
stand your ground.
Walking so her skirts would swish, she
made her way to the sofa.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Once she was seated,
she leaned back, kicked off one shoe and tucked her leg under her.
“My, my. How good it is to relax after a long hot summer day.”

Reeve chuckled as he sat back down. She
guessed that was a good sign. It did seem to her that he laughed
more than he used to. She liked to think it was her influence.
Maybe it was time for that jitterbug lesson she’d promised him. And
after that, she thought she’d start planning family picnics. Of
course, she wasn’t really a part of the family, but as the nanny,
she would certainly go along. And she could pretend.

She’d done a lot of pretending lately. Just
the night before she had pretended Betsy and Mark were actually her
children and that she would be in a front-row seat when they
graduated from high school. Shoot, she could picture herself
sitting in the front pew of the church when Betsy got married,
wearing a nice crepe-de-chine dress with just a touch of sparkle on
the shoulder. She did love fancy clothes. She gave a long contented
sigh.

“Happy?” Reeve’s voice startled her. He had
been quiet so long she had almost forgotten he was there.

“Yes.” She started to add she was happier
than a pig in the sunshine, but she had noticed that Reeve didn’t
talk like that. She guessed if she lived around him long enough she
might get to talking classy like him. Heck, if she’d got to spend
more time with the Dixie Virgins through the years, she’d be
talking as educated as Janet, who was studying to be a
pediatrician.

“I’m glad.” He didn’t say anything else, but
kept watching her like she was some sort of prize at the county
fair, and he was figuring out whether she was worth trying to
win.

She didn’t mind. In fact, she sort of liked
having his eyes on her. It made her feel soft and liquid and kind
of hummy inside, like she might break out in song in a minute or
two.

“You’ve done an excellent job with the
children.”

“Thank you.”

His eyes settled on her once more, and she
let out a big sigh. “I have always believed in rewarding
excellence,” he said after a moment.

“That’s not necessary. My salary is more than
generous.”

“Indulge me.” Smiling, he rose from his
chair. The lamplight slanted across his cheekbones, softening his
whole face. Belinda wanted to leave her comfortable place at the
sofa and run her hands down the sides of his face.

His back was turned to her as he fiddled
about the entertainment center. It was a lovely back, proud and
straight with a broad set of shoulders that made her glad he
belonged to her. Of course, he didn’t really
belong
to
her, but he
was
her boss and she reckoned that gave her
some privileges.

When he turned around he was holding the
prettiest box Belinda had ever seen. “Oh,” she sighed. It was a
large box wrapped in gold paper and tied with a sparkly pink bow.
The bow glittered so much in the lamplight that she figured it must
be sprinkled with stardust.

Reeve slowly walked toward her, holding the
box out in front of him. “For you,” he said, setting the box on the
coffee table.

“For me?”

She didn’t dare touch it yet, for she
couldn’t believe that such a beautiful thing was hers just because
she’d been in the household for two weeks. It didn’t make sense to
her. Nobody had ever given her such a gift.

“This is my way of saying thank you for a job
well done.”

She reached for the box, then ran her hands
over the ribbon.

“It’s so pretty I hate to unwrap it.”

“I’m glad you like the wrapping.” He
chuckled. “But I also want to know if you like what’s inside the
box.”

Belinda carefully removed the bow and set it
aside. Then she undid the paper with equal care, folding it neatly
and putting it beside the bow. She thought she’d save the wrapping
forever, preserve it in a spot of honor next to her Hank Williams
CD.

When she saw the dress, she tried to contain
her disappointment. It didn’t look like much in the box, plain as
could be, though it was a good color—black. Belinda had always been
partial to black. She held it up and tried to sound excited.

“My, my. How elegant.”

She figured Reeve was fooled, for he beamed
at her as if he had invented Christmas. “Simplicity is always
elegant. Why don’t you try it on?”

She nodded and left the room, carrying the
dress, the box and all the wrappings. Of the three, she valued the
wrappings most. When she reached her bedroom she spent considerable
time trying to figure out how the dress went. It was slashed in
unexpected places, and she made two or three false starts in trying
to get into it.

Finally she figured it out. It came off one
shoulder in the front, and most of the back was cut away. The
fitted skirt buttoned straight down the back side of her left hip.
First she looked down at herself, then she twirled in front of the
mirror.

“Oh my!” For all its plainness, the dress was
grand. It made her look like one of those TV heroines who walk down
the staircase with everybody looking. Her pantyhose with the
rhinestones set it off perfectly, even if she did say so
herself.

For a minute she thought it needed a necklace
and two or three bangle bracelets and maybe her big rhinestone
earrings; then she changed her mind. She walked to the dresser and
took out a box she always carried with her. Inside was a pair of
pearl-and-rhinestone earrings that had belonged to her grandmother.
She had never worn them, for they had always seemed wrong with all
her outfits; but with this dress, they looked just right.

She gave one last glance in the mirror before
she left the room. She would say one thing for that Reeve
Lawrence—he certainly did know how to dress a woman.

Reeve stood up when she walked into the room.
An entrance like Belinda Diamond’s demanded standing. She was
sensational. Her creamy skin glowed against the simple black silk,
and the pearl earrings she was wearing added just the right touch
of elegance. Even the rhinestone-studded stockings seemed
right.