Husband Wanted (4 page)

Walter waved off the remark. It was obvious he didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about what he had or didn’t have. He’d admitted, shortly after his heart attack, that he wasn’t as concerned with wealth as he’d once been. “Please sit down. Greta, would you kindly bring us coffee?”

The housekeeper started for the door. “If I can get His Holiness to let me into the kitchen,” she muttered in that strange accent as she disappeared into the hall.

Walter shook his head, a small smile tugging one corner of his mouth, convincing Frannie he’d been extremely handsome in his day. Not that he was hard on the eyes now, especially since he’d started taking care of himself. All that fresh air and exercise, not to mention the new diet, had softened the age lines around his mouth and eyes. It was obvious where Clay had gotten his good looks.

“Don’t mind Greta,” he said, as soon as they were both seated. “She’s upset with the new chef, Jean-Paul.”

“New chef?”

“I borrowed him and a young maid, Louisa, from a couple who are leaving on holiday tomorrow. We can’t have your daughter eating Greta’s cooking.” He chuckled.

“Oh, I wish you hadn’t gone to so much trouble,” Frannie began.

“Nonsense. Besides, it’ll be a treat having a real chef for a while. Do you know, he had to drive to Savannah to find the ingredients he needed to stock the kitchen?
After
he tossed out almost everything in the pantry.”

“Don’t forget you’re supposed to be watching your diet,” she almost whispered.

He paused and glanced toward the door. “I asked him to cut fat wherever he could, but I don’t want to go overboard and have Clay suspect I’ve had health problems.”

“Why is it so important that Clay not know, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Walter gave a huge sigh. “I don’t want him to think his old man is about to kick off and should be pitied.”

“All families have problems now and then, Mr. Coleman,” she said. “I’m sure Clay will come around eventually.”

“I have my doubts.” He smiled again. “I hope you don’t mind, but that coffee will take a while,” he said, as though he wanted to change the subject. “Greta isn’t as quick as she used to be. Arthritis,” he added. “I’ve been after her to retire, but she won’t hear of it. She finally agreed to let me hire a cleaning service twice a week.”

“It looks perfect to me,” Frannie said.

“I built this place for my wife. She was from England. I hired an English architect to copy some of the features of the house she’d been brought up in.”

“How romantic,” Frannie said. “You must’ve loved her very much.”

He nodded after a moment. “I
did
love her,” he said, “although there are those who would claim otherwise. I was devastated when she died.”

Frannie nodded sympathetically. “I know what it’s like to lose someone dear to you. My experience was much different, of course, since my mother was ill for a long time. I knew I would eventually lose her. I suppose I was prepared. But to lose someone without even a hint of warning. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re a kind person, Frannie,” he said. “I knew it the moment I met you.”

“Aw, here’s our coffee now,” Walter said. “That was quick, Greta. You must be taking vitamins.”

She did not respond to his compliment. “Clay called,” she said as she filled two cups with coffee. “He said he was going to be a few minutes late, but that he would be here in plenty of time for dinner.”

Walter looked pleased.

Greta started for the door, then paused and turned. “I told that new chef of yours that I’m not cleaning up after him. You should see what a mess he’s made of the kitchen.”

“No problem,” Walter said, as though he were accustomed to smoothing his housekeeper’s ruffled feathers. “That’s why I hired Louisa. She’s a big strong girl. I’m sure she is accustomed to Jean-Paul’s ways.”

Frannie waited until they were alone to speak. “I feel bad for disrupting your staff. I never meant to intrude.”

He waved the comment aside. “Listen to me, young lady,” he said. “You may not know it, but you’ve done me an enormous favor by using my house to entertain your daughter.”

“I have?” Frannie asked, although she couldn’t imagine how.

“Absolutely! I couldn’t even convince my son to have dinner with me before this came up. Now he’s going to be staying here for a few days. Who knows, he may decide to move back permanently, if we can put our differences behind us.”

“Is that what you want?” Frannie asked. “For Clay to move back home?”

Walter nodded. “This house is too big for just me. I’m hoping Clay and I can finally make peace with each other and he’ll come home.” He paused and smiled. “So you see, you’re helping me as much as I am you.”

“That makes me feel a little better.”

“So tell me what you’ve heard from your daughter.”

“Well, she was able to get last-minute plane reservations. Her mother wrote me a brief letter and told me right up front that she was struggling with her decision to let Mandy come. I take it both parents are hurt that she decided to look for me, and they’re only going along with it because of Mandy’s persistence. I didn’t write back because I got the impression they wanted nothing to do with me. I’ll send them a note of thanks after Mandy’s visit.”

“It sounds as if you’re doing a good job of handling an awkward situation,” he said.

“I’m certainly trying. Anyway, Mandy is flying into Savannah airport late Friday afternoon. She has to go back to Washington on Monday, so we only have to . . . uh . . .
pretend
for two and a half days.”

“That’s a pretty short visit,” Walter said.

“I’ll take what I can get,” Frannie said. “Besides, I had to line up a couple of waitresses to work for me while I’m out.” She grinned. “They’ll probably steal my best customers.”

“Nonsense. Your customers love you. You’ve spoiled them. I speak from experience.” He paused. “Are you nervous about meeting your daughter?”

“Terribly!”

“Clay will take you to the airport to pick up your daughter.”

Frannie laughed. “That’s a relief. I never know when my car is going to act up.”

Walter looked amused. “You should have seen the heap of junk I was driving when I first started working construction. I paid five hundred dollars for it. Half the time it wouldn’t start so I took the bus to and from work.”

They chatted for another few minutes. Walter checked his wristwatch. “I suppose you’ll want to get settled. Do you have any bags?”

“Only a couple of small ones; I can bring them in.”

“Nonsense! You’re the mistress of the house now. Louisa can bring them up. In the meantime, Greta will show you to your room.”

“Oh, before I forget, Blair Styles is coming by with several outfits. I don’t think I’ll be able to pass myself off as mistress of your fine home if I’m dressed in a waitress uniform.”

Walter gave a hearty laugh. “You may have a point there.” He rang a bell, and Greta appeared.

“Would you show Frannie to her room?” he said. He glanced at Frannie quickly. “Oh, my, I just thought of something. We’ll have to refer to you as Mrs. Coleman now that you’re supposed to be married to my son.”

“It will be a whole lot easier if you just call me Frannie.”

“True. And you can call me Walter.”

“I’ll show you to your room now,” Greta said, already moving toward the door. She led Frannie up the massive staircase and down a thickly carpeted hallway. “This was Mrs. Coleman’s room before she passed,” the woman said, pausing at one of the doors. “It was feminine and very pretty, but it has since been turned into the main guest room.” She opened the door and waited for Frannie to step inside.

“Oh, my, it’s very nice,” Frannie said, noting that, although the colors were neutral for the most part, the massive four-poster mahogany bed was draped in white bed linens. An overstuffed sofa and chair, both wearing white slip covers, faced the fireplace, and a large vase of fresh flowers sweetened the air. It looked like a room one might find at a Ritz-Carlton. Not that Frannie had ever stayed or even been inside a Ritz-Carlton.

Greta crossed the room and pulled the drapes. Sliding glass doors admitted the late-afternoon sunshine. “There’s a balcony that looks down on the gardens,” she said, opening one of the doors and stepping out. “Mrs. Coleman used to take her afternoon tea here.”

Frannie joined the woman on the balcony. “I can see why she enjoyed sitting out here,” she said, then looked at the housekeeper. “What was she like?”

Greta pursed her lips in annoyance. “I don’t discuss the family members, living or deceased, with outsiders, Frannie.” She reentered the bedroom.

Frannie followed and closed the door behind her. “Pardon me,” she said. “I wasn’t trying to be nosey.”

The woman went on. “But since you asked, I’ll tell you that Mrs. Coleman was one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. She was always looking to help others. We were all so shocked by her sudden demise.” She paused and pursed her lips. “Not as shocked as when Mr. Coleman married that money-hungry trollop, mind you.” She gave a snort of disgust. “I thought my dentures would fall right out of my mouth when he brought that woman into this house. That’s all I have to say about the matter.” She paused. “Now then, the bathroom is right through that door. It is fully stocked, but if you require something more, please let me know.”

“Thank you,” Frannie said.

The woman paused with her hand on the doorknob and regarded her for a moment. “Mr. Coleman has apprised me of your, um, situation. He has asked me to school you in certain areas of, should I say, refinement. I will meet you in the dining room at eight a.m., after breakfast. I’ll show you what I can before the child arrives.” She left without another word.

Frannie simply stood there, cocooned in luxury, wondering how she was ever going to blunder her way through the next few days.

“This place is unbelievable!” Blair said as she followed Frannie up the grand staircase and into the guest bedroom where she draped two garment bags over the back of the sofa.

“Yes, it’s gorgeous,” Frannie said, carrying a small suitcase Blair had brought with her.

Following close behind, the maid dragged in a larger suitcase containing shoes. “Will there be anything else, Mrs. Coleman?” she politely asked.

“That’s all, Louisa,” Frannie said. “Thank you.”

Blair arched both brows. “Mrs. Coleman?”

“Clay and I are supposed to be married, remember?”

Blair checked out the bathroom. “Holy cow! You have a sitting room in your bathroom. And that bathtub! Oh, and a heated towel rack.” She came out of the bathroom and joined Frannie who was gazing out the sliding glass doors at the gardens.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Frannie turned to her. “This whole thing has gotten out of hand.”

“What do you mean?”

Frannie sighed heavily, walked over to the chair at the fireplace and sat down. “This is what happens when you tell a lie. You have to keep lying in order to back it up. Before long, it snowballs, and it’s impossible to remember all the lies you’ve actually told.” She shook her head. “And now, I’ve dragged a bunch of innocent people into it—”

“Those people wouldn’t have helped unless they wanted to,” Blair interrupted.

“My daughter will take one look and know I’m not the fine lady I’m supposed to be. She’ll know I lied.”

Blair sat on the sofa. “Would you listen to yourself?” she said. “You’ve already given up. That’s not the Frannie Brisbane I know. You’ve always been a fighter. You’ve never backed down from anything, no matter how hard or challenging. Why, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”

Frannie’s eyes misted. “This is different,” she said. “It involves my daughter. I was wrong to lie.”

“It’s too late to worry about that now,” Blair said. “As for looking like a fine lady, that’s why I’m here. Before I owned a dress shop I was a hairdresser; before that, a cosmetologist. When I get through with you, your own mother wouldn’t recognize you.” She paused as if she suddenly realized how insensitive her remark was. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up your poor mother.”

“Actually, I’m glad she’s not here to see what a mess I’ve gotten myself into.”

Blair stood and reached for one of the garment bags. “Okay, dry up those tears and take off your clothes. We have a lot to do in very little time.”

Shaking her head doubtfully, Frannie stepped out of her slacks as Blair pulled an array of casual dresses from one of the bags. From another, she produced several after-five dresses.

“Hold it!” Frannie said, standing in her bra and underwear. “I can’t afford to buy all these clothes.”

“I’m
giving
them to you, silly,” Blair said. “Trust me, I don’t pay the sticker price, plus, I had already put these on a clearance rack to make room for my summer shipment.” She stopped speaking abruptly when she saw Frannie in her unmentionables. “Oh, that’s sad,” she said, tsking and shaking her head.

Frannie blushed and tried to cover herself. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve got a knockout figure, and you wear cotton underwear?”

“Cotton is cheap.”

“Cheap isn’t always better,” the woman told her. “Not when it comes to lingerie. But don’t worry, I anticipated that would be the case, so I brought a few things that will make you feel very sexy.”

“I hope you brought a bathrobe as well,” Frannie said, “since I’ll be sharing this room with Clay.”

Blair gaped at her, then looked at the bed. “Oh. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“As I said earlier, we’re supposed to be married.”

“Do you know how many women would love to share a bed with Clay Coleman?”

“Hello?” Frannie said. “We’re not actually sharing a bed. We have an arrangement.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you. Why do you suppose he offered to take part in this?”

“Believe me, I’ve wondered about it. There has to be something in it for him, because it is obvious he doesn’t seem to have a very high opinion of me. He probably thinks I’m just another gold digger.”

“Well, not to worry,” Blair said. “I brought a very elegant gown and bathrobe set, but if you’re looking for terry cloth, forget it. Okay, we’ll start with casual wear first.” Blair held up a linen blend walking short suit and a blue chambray button-down blouse.