Gift of Fortune (10 page)

"Well, I have yet to meet a man whose lips have that
downward slant who wasn't given to fits of petulance and
whining," Dora said with authority. "And those are not appealing qualities in a man. Or in a woman."

"No, they are not," Aileen agreed. What would Dora say
about Quint? He didn't have a droopy mouth, and his
hands, though strong and rough from work, were not brutallooking.

"Tell me about Quint," Dora requested.

"He doesn't look anything like Steve."

Dora leaned forward. "Does he have those sexy, dark,
smoldering Latino looks?"

"His eyes are green. Like his father's." Aileen wasn't
ready to talk about Quint. She took a last sip of tea and
rose. "I must go or I'll be late for homeroom. Call me if
you need anything." Aileen rushed from the room, but not
quick enough to miss Dora's final question.

"When are you going to bring Quint to meet me?"

Aileen stopped in her tracks. She knew she couldn't keep
him a secret forever. It was amazing that not more people
had found out about him already.

"I'll bring him soon," she promised.

Quint curried Sweepstake until the stallion's coat
gleamed. Then he looked around the stable, but there was
nothing else for him to do. He could no longer put off going
to the house.

Hunching his shoulders against the rain, he sprinted
across the yard. He didn't see Aileen's briefcase and purse
in their usual place and felt relieved. She wasn't home yet.
Quint wasn't sure, though, whether he was more relieved
or disappointed. At least he had time to clean up. After a
quick shower and a change of clothes, he hurried to the
kitchen.

Aileen arrived just as he was adjusting the seasoning of
the chili. "Here, taste this and tell me what you think."
Quint dipped a spoon into the chili and handed it to Aileen.
"Careful, it's hot." He would hate to see her sweet mouth
get burned. He watched her blow on the chili.

"How is it? Too spicy?"

"I like spicy. It's good." She licked the spoon. "Actually,
it's very good."

"Or maybe you're just hungry."

"Both," she admitted with a smile. "It's been a long day
and our aerobics instructor really worked us hard." Aileen
took her raincoat off. Though Quint hadn't said anything,
she sensed he was dying to do so. "What?"

"Men should erect a monument to the guy who invented
spandex."

"How do you know it wasn't a woman?" she demanded.

"Let me restate this. Men should erect a monument to
whoever invented spandex."

Aileen pretended to be indifferent to his implied compliment, but inwardly she was smiling. "Do I have time to
look through the mail before we eat?"

"You have until the noodles are cooked. We're having
chili mac. You want chopped onions and cheese on top of
yours?"

"Neither, thanks, but I will cut up carrots and celery so
we have something crunchy on the side."

Quint grinned at her. "I wondered if you'd fix a salad."

Aileen raised an eyebrow. "When you live to a healthy,
ripe old age with all your teeth in your mouth and all your
hair on your head, you will thank me."

His grin widened.

"What?"

"You tossed your hair again. But I like it," he added
hastily. And that was the problem. He liked the gesture too
much. It made him want to reach out and stroke those
silken tresses. Curl his fingers around them. Lift them off
her delicate neck and.... Don't even go there, he warned
himself. Some men went crazy over legs; some got turned
on by bosoms. With him it was a lovely neck that made
his blood hum.

Quint lifted the lid and stirred the noodles. Fortunately,
Aileen was busy cutting carrots into sticks. She couldn't
have sensed his hot preoccupation with her hair and her
neck. Then he frowned. Something in her comment had
finally registered with him.

"Am I in danger of losing my hair and my teeth? Did
my ... did Jack Bolton lose his?"

"No, but my mother always served a balanced meal."

"Mine was glad when she could put enough tortillas and
beans on the table." Though he had his back to her, he
sensed her shocked expression. "I didn't mind. I thought
everybody ate beans instead of meat."

As proud as he was, she guessed that Quint hadn't meant
to tell her that sometimes he'd gone hungry. Quickly she
said, "According to research, beans are better for you than
red meat." She smiled ruefully. "Oops. I suppose as the
half owner of a ranch, I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you shouldn't have. It's bad for business."

Aileen paused, a celery stalk in her hand. "It just occurred to me that you might not know what
your...what Jack Bolton looked like."

She rushed into the den. Moments later she returned with
two photos in her hand. She placed them on the counter
next to Quint. "This one was taken three years ago at a
horse show." Aileen looked at the back of the other photo.
"In this one he was about your age. You look a lot like
him. And it's not just the green eyes."

Quint didn't say anything, but she saw his lips tighten.
Aileen resumed preparing the relish tray. From the corner
of her eye, she thought she caught him stealing glances at
the photographs.

Aileen set the tray on the table. Then she sorted through
the junk mail and disposed of it. The rest she set aside when
Quint brought their filled bowls to the table. She ate a third
of her chili before she spoke.

"This is really good. I appreciate your having dinner
ready. It's nice to come home and not have to rush into the
kitchen to cook."

"When it looked like it would rain hard all day, I decided
that we would work around the place and fix things. That
gave me a chance to start dinner. I'm glad you like the
chili."

When Quint realized how much her compliment, her
smile, warmed him, his mood sobered. It didn't pay to get
too attached to anyone or anything. Every time he did,
something happened and he had to move on. Except not
this time. Now he was no longer a nobody. If he was tenacious enough, he could grab a foothold and put down
roots. Deep roots.

"Speaking of fixing things, could you some time go with
me to my mentor's house? She's on sick leave this semester
and I noticed this morning that the latch of her screen door
is broken again. I tried to fix it several weeks ago, but
obviously I didn't do it right."

"Sure. No problem. What's she like?"

"Dora's a tough and demanding teacher but fair. She's
quick to praise and encourage. The kids respect her. They
learn a lot in her classes. She's the reason I became a
teacher."

"You like her a lot," Quint observed.

"Yes." Aileen put her spoon down. "So, what did you
fix around here?"

"Checking up on me?" Quint asked, trying to keep his
voice light.

"No, but I like to know what's going on."

"How's that different from checking up on me?"

"Maybe it's not," she admitted. "We're partners, though,
and I don't want to be excluded again. Please remember
that."

The fact that Jack never consulted her still rankled. Quint
could understand that. "We worked in the tack room,
moved the remaining hay to the front of the loft, and tinkered with several machines that we'll be using."

"Which ones?"

"The tractor and everything we'll need to plant alfalfa
and clover." Seeing her surprised expression, he added
quickly, "It's a lot cheaper to grow your own feed."

"I know that. I'm not criticizing your idea."

"Bob told me that years ago part of the south range was
cultivated. I looked at it. Having lain fallow for so long,
we should harvest a bumper crop of hay."

"You're full of surprises. Do you know how to plant and
harvest?"

"We did it on the spread where I was the foreman. Do
you have any objections to me doing this?"

"No, of course not. Go for it."

"I will."

"I remember Mom talking about how they all helped to get the hay in before it rained. I wonder why they stopped
growing it."

Quint had an idea but didn't voice it. She might misunderstand and attribute anything negative he said about
Jack to resentment on his part. But he liked the way Aileen
looked at him, sort of surprised but pleased as well.

While they did the dishes, they talked about the vegetables she would plant. It was such a pleasant, harmonious
evening that tacitly neither referred to the evening before.

Quint excused himself to look at seed catalogues in the
den. He studied them until he heard Aileen's laughter, low
and throaty. Lured by it as if it were a siren's tempting
song, he walked back to the kitchen.

Quint stopped in the doorway to watch Aileen. She was
sitting at the kitchen table, papers spread before her, laughing. Under the overhead light her hair glistened like an
alchemist's magic mixture of molten gold and copper.
When she became aware of him, she looked up. Her eyes
were filled with laughter.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't," Quint said, smiling at her. "Care to share
what's making you laugh?"

"It's my students. Or rather, their writing." She smothered her laughter before she continued. "We read this Russian short story in which the peasants stage a revolt. So
one of my juniors wrote that the pheasants revolted. Can
you picture this flock of birds marching on the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg?" Aileen burst into laughter again.

Quint couldn't help but join in, for her laughter was infectious. "Makes you wonder if they had six-shooters or
rifles tucked under their wings."

Aileen laughed. When she stopped, she placed her hand on her chest and caught her breath. "Teaching does have
some unusual perks."

The telephone rang.

"Since you're closer, will you get the phone?" Aileen
asked.

Quint did. After a moment he asked, "May I ask who's
calling?" He placed his hand over the speaker. Looking at
Aileen, he mouthed, "Steve?"

"I'll take it." Aileen crossed the room and took the phone
from Quint.

"Hi, Steve. What can I do for you?"

Quint opened the refrigerator and studied its contents.
He heard her say, "It's no one you know." So, Steve was
curious about him. Quint couldn't blame him. If he phoned
Aileen and a man answered, he sure as heck would want
to know all about him. And do something about him. Was
Steve the physical type who'd ask him to step outside and
settle it man to man? The part of him that was trying to
become a respected rancher hoped not. The part of him that
contained the remnants of the fiery-tempered boy who'd
been ready to right all affronts with his fists hoped so.

Quint tried not to listen to the conversation, but it was
impossible not to hear Aileen's side of it.

He took a bottle of root beer from the fridge and twisted
the top off. Aileen's face had lost its humor. He was sure
her frown was one of annoyance.

"I'm sorry, but I can't go," she said, her tone firm. "I
told you that the other day."

Steve apparently wasn't taking no for an answer. What
a jerk.

"Okay, you guessed right. I already have a date," Aileen
said, her voice exasperated. "Bye." She hung up forcefully.

Quint watched her press the button to activate the an swering machine. She obviously did not want to talk to
Steve again. Before he could ask her if anything was
wrong, the phone rang again. Ignoring it, she took her seat
at the kitchen table. The caller hung up when the recorded
message rang through the silent kitchen. Steve, Quint suspected.

"Is something wrong?" Quint asked.

She shrugged.

"Sounds to me like Steve isn't good at taking no for an
answer."

"He isn't. I don't know what's gotten into him. In Washington he was insisting on meeting for a drink or sitting
beside me on the bus, and now he keeps pestering me for
dates. I've run out of excuses."

"Why don't you just tell him you don't want to go out
with him," Quint suggested.

"I thought I did. He's either exceptionally dense or-"

"Or he can't believe that you could turn him down.
Seems to me the guy has an enormous ego."

"Don't most men?"

"Not me," Quint said, laying his hand on his heart in
mock seriousness.

"Yeah, right," Aileen said, trying to sound stern. She
placed the papers in a stack. Then she sighed. "Now I have
a problem."

"What is it? Maybe I can help."

"I lied when I told Steve I already had a date."

"The guy practically forced you to lie to get rid of him."
Quint frowned. "I don't understand. How will he know you
lied?"

"When I show up by myself at the National Honor Society dinner. Why couldn't I think of a better excuse?"
Aileen said, her voice a discouraged wail. "Now what am I going to do? Claim my date got sick? He'll never buy
that."

"Why don't you just get a date?"

Aileen looked at Quint as if he'd lost his mind. "Get a
date? Just like that? By a week from Friday? I told you, I
haven't dated since Dad got sick. I don't even know who's
available anymore. And it isn't as if this county were overrun with eligible men in the first place."