Dance to the Piper (13 page)

She'd invited him into her life. That was something she couldn't forget. More, she'd argued him into her life when he'd been ready to back away. So she loved him. But she couldn't tell him.

"Lunch, ladies and gentlemen. Be back at two, prepared to run through the two final scenes."

"So it's the angel," Wanda murmured in Maddy's ear. "The one in the front row who looks like a cover for
Gentleman's Quarterly."

"What about him?" Maddy bent from the waist and let her muscles relax.

"That's him, isn't it?"

"What him?"

"The
him." Wanda gave her a quick slap on the rump. "The him that's had you standing around dreamy eyed."

"I don't stand around dreamy eyed." At least she hoped she didn't.

"That's him," Wanda said with a self-satisfied smile before she strolled offstage.

Grumbling to herself, Maddy walked down the steps beside the stage. She put on a fresh smile. "Reed, I'm glad you came." She didn't touch him or offer the quick, friendly kiss she usually greeted him with. "Mr. Valentine. It's so nice to see you again."

"I enjoyed every minute of it." He sandwiched her hand between his big ones. "It's a pleasure to watch you work. Did I hear the man mention lunch?"

She put a hand on her stomach. "That you did."

"Then you'll join us, won't you?"

"Well, I…" When Reed said nothing, she searched for an excuse.

"Now, you wouldn't disappoint me." Edwin ignored his son's silence and barreled ahead. "This is your neck of the woods. You must know a good spot."

"There's a deli just across the street," she began.

"Perfect.
I could eat a good pastrami." And it would only take a quick call to cancel his reservation at the Four Seasons. "What do you say, Reed?"

"I'd say Maddy needs a minute to change." He finally smiled at her.

She glanced down at her costume of hot-pink shorts and tank top. "Five minutes to get into my street clothes," she promised, and dashed away.

She was better than her word. Within five minutes she had thrown a yellow sweat suit over her costume and was walking into the deli in front of Reed and his father.

The smells were wonderful. There were times she stopped in for them alone. Spiced meat, hot mustard, strong coffee. An overhead fan stirred it all up. Most of the dancers had headed there from the theater like hungry ants to a picnic. Because the proprietor was shrewd, there was a jukebox in the rear corner. It was already blasting away.

The big Greek behind the counter spotted Maddy and gave her a wide white grin. "Ahhh, an O'Hurley special?"

"Absolutely." Leaning on the glass front of the counter, she watched him dish up a big, leafy salad. He used a generous hand with chunks of cheese, then topped it off with a dollop of yogurt.

"You eat that?" Edwin asked behind her.

She laughed and accepted the bowl. "I absorb it."

"Body needs meat." Edwin ordered a pastrami on a huge kaiser roll.

"I'll get us a table," Maddy offered, grabbing a cup of tea to go with the salad. Wisely she commandeered one on the opposite end of the room from the music.

"Lunch with the big boys, huh, Maddy?" Terry, with his hair still slicked back
a la
Jackie, stooped over her. "Going to put in a good word for me?"

"What word would you like?" She turned in her chair to grin up at him.

"How about'star'?"

"I'll see if I can work it in."

He started to say something else but glanced over at his own table. "Damn it, Leroy, that's my pickle."

Maddy was still laughing when Reed and his father joined her.

"Quite a place," Edwin commented, already looking forward to his sandwich and the heap of potato salad beside it.

"They're on their best behavior because you're here."

Someone started to sing over the blare of the jukebox. Maddy simply pitched her voice higher. "Will you come to the Philadelphia opening, Mr. Valentine?"

"Thinking about it. Don't travel as much as I used to. There was a time when the head of a record company had to be out of town as much as he was in his office."

"Must have been exciting." She dipped into her salad and pretended she didn't envy Reed his pile of rare roast beef.

"Hotel rooms, meetings." He shrugged. "And I missed my boy." The look he gave Reed was both rueful and affectionate. "Missed too many ball games."

"You made plenty of them." Reed sliced off a corner of his sandwich and handed it to Maddy. It was a small, completely natural gesture that caught Edwin's eye. And his hope.

"Reed was top pitcher on his high school team."

Reed was shaking his head with a smile of his own when Maddy turned to him. "You played ball? You never told me." As soon as the words were out, she reminded herself he had no reason to tell her. There were dozens of other details about his life that he hadn't told her. "I never really understood baseball until I moved to New York," she went on quickly. "Then I caught a few Yankee games to see what the fuss was about. What was your ERA?"

He lifted a brow. "2.38."

It pleased her that he remembered. She rolled her eyes at his father. "Big-league material."

"So I always told him. But he wanted to work in the business."

"That's the big leagues, too, isn't it?" She nibbled on the portion of sandwich Reed had given her. "Most of us only look at the finished product, you know, the album we put on the turntable, the cassette we stick in the car stereo. I guess it's a long trip from sheet music to vinyl."

"When you've got three or four days free," Edwin said with a laugh, "I'll fill you in."

"I'd like that." She drank her honeyed tea, knowing it would seep into her bloodstream and get her through the next four hours. "When we recorded the cast album for
Suzanna's Park,
I got a taste of it. I think the studio's so different from the stage. So, well… restricted." She swallowed lettuce. "Sorry."

"No need."

"A studio has certain restrictions," Reed put in. He took a sip of his coffee and discovered it was strong enough to melt leather. "On the other hand, there can be untold advantages. We can take that man behind the counter, put him in a studio and turn him into Caruso by pushing the right buttons."

Maddy digested that, then shook her head. "That's cheating."

"That's marketing," Reed corrected. "And plenty of labels do it."

"Does Valentine?"

He looked at her, and the gray eyes she'd admired from the beginning were direct. "No. Valentine was started with an eye toward quality, not quantity."

She slanted Edwin a wicked look. "But you were going to offer a recording contract to the O'Hurley

Triplets."

Edwin added an extra dash of pepper to his sandwich. "You weren't quality?"

"We were… a slice above mediocre.''

"A great deal above, if what I saw onstage this afternoon is any indication."

"I appreciate that."

"Do you get time for much socializing, Maddy?"

She plopped her chin on her hands. "Asking me for a date?" He seemed taken aback, though only for an instant.

Then he roared with laughter that caught the attention of everyone in the deli. "Damned if I wouldn't if I

could drop twenty years. Quite a prize right here." He patted her hand, but looked at his son. "Yes, she is," Reed said blandly. "I'm thinking of giving a party," Edwin said on impulse. "Sending the play off to Philadelphia in style.

What do you think, Maddy?"

"I think it's a great idea. Am I invited?"

"On the condition that you save a dance for me." It was as easy for her to love the father as it was for her to love the son. "You can have as many as you like."

"'I don't think I can keep up with you for more than one."

She laughed with him. When she picked up her tea, she saw that Reed was watching her again, coolly. The sense of disapproval she felt from him cut her to the bone.

"I, ah, I have to get back. There are some things I have to do before afternoon rehearsal."

"Walk the lady across the street, Reed. Your legs are younger than mine."

"Oh, that's all right." Maddy was already up. "I don't need—"

"I'll walk you over." Reed had her by the elbow.

She wouldn't make a scene. For the life of her she couldn't pinpoint why she wanted to so badly. Instead, she bent down and kissed Edwin's cheek. "Thanks for lunch."

She waited until they were outside before she spoke again. "Reed, I'm perfectly capable of crossing the street alone. Go back to your father."

"Do you have a problem?"

"Do / have a problem?" She pulled her arm away and glared at him. "Oh, I can't stand to hear you say that to me in that proper, politely curious voice." She started across the street at a jog.

"You have twenty minutes to get back." He caught her arm again.

"I said I had things to do."

"You lied."

In the center of the street, with the light turning yellow, she turned toward him again. "Then let's say I have better things to do. Better things than to sit there and be put under your intellectual microscope. What's wrong, don't you like the fact that I enjoy your father's company? Are you afraid I have designs on him?"

"Stop it." He gave her a jerk to get her moving as cars began to honk.

"You just don't like women in general, do you? You put us all in this big box that's labeled 'Not To Be Trusted.' I wish I knew why."

"Maddy, you're becoming very close to hysterical."

"Oh, I can get a lot closer," she promised with deadly sincerity. "You froze up. I saw you when I was onstage and you were watching me with that cold, measuring look in your eyes. It was as if you thought you were looking at me instead of the part I was playing—and you didn't want either of us to win."

Because he recognized the glimmer of truth, he shifted away from it. "You're being ridiculous."

"I'm not." She shoved away from him again as they stood by the stage door. "I know when I'm being ridiculous, and in this instance I'm not. I don't know what ate away at you, Reed, but whatever it was, I'm sorry for it. I've tried not to let it bother me, I've tried not to let a lot of things bother me. But this is too much."

He took her by the shoulders and held her against the wall. "What is too much?"

"I saw your face when your father was talking about having a party, about me being there. Well, you don't have to worry, I won't come. I'll make an excuse."

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, spacing each word carefully.

"I didn't realize you'd be embarrassed being seen with me."

"Maddy—"

"No, it's understandable, isn't it?" she rushed on. "I'm just plain Maddy O'Hurley, no degrees behind the name, no pedigree in front of it. I got my high school diploma in the mail, and both my parents can trace their roots back to peasant stock in the south of Ireland."

He caught her chin in his hand. "The next time you take a side trip, leave me a map so I can keep up. I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about us!" she shouted. "I don't know why I'm talking about us, because there
is
no us. You don't want an us. You don't even want a you and me, really, so I don't—"

He cut her off, out of total frustration, by pressing his mouth over hers. "Shut up," he warned when she struggled to protest. "Just shut up a minute."

He filled himself on her. God, if she knew how frustrated he'd been watching her seduce an empty theater, how empty he'd felt sitting beside her, unable to touch her. The anger poured through. He'd hurt her. And would probably hurt her again. He no longer knew how to avoid it.

"Calm?" he asked when he let her speak again.

"No."

"All right, then, just be quiet. I don't know exactly what I was thinking while I was watching you onstage. It's becoming a problem to think at all when I look at you."

She started to snap, then thought better of it. "Why?"

"I don't know. As for the other business, you are being ridiculous. I don't care if you got your education in a correspondence school or at Vassar. I don't care if your father was knighted or tried for grand larceny."

"Disturbing the peace," Maddy mumbled. "But that was only once—twice, I guess. I'm sorry." As the tears rolled out, she apologized again. "I'm really sorry. I hate this. I always get so churned up when I'm angry, and I can't stop."

"Don't." He brushed at her tears himself. "I haven't been completely fair with you. We really need to clear up what the situation between us is."

"Okay. When?"

"When don't you have a class at the crack of dawn?"

She sniffed and searched in her dance bag for a tissue. "Sunday."

"Saturday, then. Will you come to my place?" He brushed a thumb along her cheekbone. She was being reasonable, too reasonable, when he knew he couldn't promise to be. "Please?"

"Yes, I'll come. Reed, I didn't mean to make a scene."

"Neither did I. Maddy—" He hesitated a moment, then decided to start clearing the air now. "The business with my father. It had nothing to do with the party he's planning. It had nothing to do with you coming or being with me."

She wanted to believe him, but an insecurity she hadn't been aware of held her back. "What was it, then?"

"I haven't seen him so… charmed by anyone in a very long time. He wanted a house full of children, and he never had them. If he'd had a daughter, I imagine he'd have enjoyed one like you."

"Reed, I'm sorry. I don't know what you want me to do."

"Just don't hurt him. I won't see him hurt again." He touched her cheek briefly, then left her at the stage door.