Husband Wanted (9 page)

Frannie was still crying. She noted her daughter’s neat slacks and oxford shirt. “Oh, Clay, isn’t she beautiful?”

Clay squeezed her shoulder. “Yes, she is, sweetheart. Just like you, but I think we’re embarrassing her with all this fuss.”

Mandy’s gaze went from Frannie to Clay and back to Frannie. “Thank you for having me,” she said.

“We’re delighted you could come,” Frannie replied.

“Yes, delighted,” Clay echoed.

All three fell silent for a moment.

“I suppose we should get your luggage,” Clay said, when it seemed neither of them knew what to say now that the introductions had been made.

“I only brought one small suitcase,” Mandy said, “since I’m only here for a short time.”

With Clay leading, they joined the throng of people moving through the wide hall. He smiled when he saw that Frannie couldn’t take her eyes off the girl. “Baggage is downstairs,” he said, motioning to an escalator.

“Have you eaten?” Frannie asked her daughter as they stood next to each other on the down escalator. It was all she could do to keep from touching her constantly.

“They served a snack on the plane. Pretzels.”

“My father’s chef has a special dinner planned for you,” Clay said.

“Chef?” Mandy said. “You have a chef?”

Frannie thought her daughter look uncomfortable. “We, um, borrowed him from friends because the housekeeper isn’t much of a cook.” She smiled, but she hoped Jean-Paul was serving something she recognized.

“Frannie tells me you’re in seventh grade this year,” Clay went on when Frannie continued to stare mutely at Mandy, as though she feared she might dissolve in a puff of smoke at any moment. “How do you like it?”

Mandy shrugged, but the light flickered out of her eyes. “My . . . uh . . . parents decided to put me in a private girls’ school this year.”

They had reached the lower level. One by one, they stepped off the escalator. “Why’d they do that?” Frannie asked curiously.

“I suppose they think I’ll get a better education,” Mandy said, though her tone told Frannie she didn’t share that belief.

They arrived at baggage claim and waited for the luggage to come through on the conveyor belt. “Oh, there’s my bag,” Mandy said and hurried forward.

Clay took the suitcase from Mandy. “Allow me,” he said.

Outside, once they reached the parking lot, Clay opened the door for Frannie, then Mandy, tucking the small bag in the back seat beside her. Frannie shot him a look of appreciation. He was doing all he could to make her daughter feel welcome.

The drive home took little less than an hour, during which time Mandy and Frannie chatted nonstop. Frannie noticed Mandy’s wide-eyed expression when they pulled up in front of the impressive mansion, and she was thankful she’d gone through with the charade. One only had to look at the girl to see she’d been raised by proper and affluent people. Frannie couldn’t imagine taking her to the tiny house where she lived, with its threadbare carpet and shoddy furniture.

“It’s beautiful,” Mandy said, climbing out of the car and gazing at her surroundings, through eyes the same shade of green as Frannie’s. She turned to her. “How long did you say you’ve lived here?”

Frannie smiled. “Not that long,” she said, thinking it best to stick as close to the truth as she could.

“Frannie and I are sort of newlyweds,” Clay said. “She’s still getting used to the place.”

“Oh, how romantic!” the girl exclaimed. “I had no idea.”

“So if I have trouble finding the kitchen, you’ll understand why,” Frannie told her, laughing as if it were a big joke. She hoped the comment would pave the way in case she
did
actually get lost in the big house.

All at once, the front door was thrown open and Walter appeared. “You’re back!” he said, his eyes automatically seeking out the thirteen-year-old. He smiled broadly. “You must be Mandy. Welcome to our home, young lady.”

The girl stuck her hand out. “Thank you for having me, Mr. Coleman.”

“Just call me Walter, or Walt for short,” he insisted. He cupped his hand under her elbow and prodded her forward. “You have to meet the rest of the gang.”

Only then did Fanny realize they had company. Blair and Alice and Grace Dempsey, greeted them. She decided Walter must’ve been at work behind her back. She was touched. It was only right that her closest friends be allowed to share this very special occasion with her. She only hoped Walter had schooled them in what to say should Mandy ask questions.

Alice and Grace stepped forward, each wearing a shy smile, both dressed in evening clothes. Or perhaps overdressed, Frannie thought, trying to smother a smile. Alice, who was short and stout, wore a bright red dinner suit with a ruffled jacket that only made her seem wider. It was hard to tell how old the suit was, only that Alice had added a few pounds since she’d last worn it. The gold buttons looked as though they’d pop off with her next breath. Grace didn’t look much better in a burgundy-colored velvet dress that smelled as though it had spent a lot of years packed in mothballs.

“These lovely ladies are Grace and Alice Dempsey,” Walter said. “You probably recognize the name. They’re oil baronesses out of Texas.” He didn’t seem to notice the looks Frannie and Clay shot him.

Mandy shook their hands. “Pleased to meet you,” she said politely. “I’ve never met a real oil baroness.”

“You’re the spittin' image of Frannie,” Alice said, then was nudged hard by Grace. She sputtered. “I mean, you bear a striking resemblance to her.”

“Yes, striking indeed,” Grace added.

“And this ravishing creature is Blair Styles,” Walter went on. “She’s a fashion designer.”

“It’s indeed a pleasure,” Blair said loftily, holding out a perfectly manicured hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Frannie thought she looked like something out of a magazine in an ivory silk cocktail dress.

Greta nudged Walter.

“Oh, my, I almost forgot. This formidable looking woman is my housekeeper, Greta Straus,” he said. “She runs the place.”

Greta nodded respectfully. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mandy. I hope your stay will be a pleasant one.”

Walter then introduced Jean-Paul and Louisa, both of whom greeted Mandy with the same respect they would have royalty.

Clay leaned close to Frannie, his lips grazing her ear. “Don’t you think your friends are overdoing it a bit?” he asked.

She leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “I had no idea they’d been invited.”

Clay decided enough was enough. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m thirsty.”

“Yes, let’s have a cocktail,” Walter said. “Jean-Paul has prepared hors d’oeuvres, and I might as well tell you they look delicious.”

The group congregated in the living room. Mandy took a seat next to Frannie. “This house is really something,” she said. “Would you take me on a tour later?”

“Of course,” Frannie said, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. She beckoned Clay with her eyes. “Maybe we can get Clay to go with us.”

“Be glad to,” he told them as Greta carried in a tray of liver pâté which had been glazed with aspic and looked quite festive. It was surrounded by wafers. There was also caviar with toast points, accompanied by bowls of minced onion and chopped hard-cooked egg whites and sieved egg yolks.

Mandy shied away from the food, turning her attention to Blair. “Did you design that dress you’re wearing?” she asked.

Blair smiled. “As a matter of fact, I did. Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful. I love clothes, but where I go to school everybody is forced to wear these dreadful pleated uniform dresses that fall below our knees and make us look like somebody’s old maid aunt.”

“That
is
dreadful,” Blair agreed. “I believe young ladies should be allowed to express their own individual tastes in clothes. It’s all a part of growing up.”

“I can’t wait until I’m old enough to do as I please,” Mandy said with vengeance, drawing a worried frown from Frannie.

Dinner was a show, put on for Mandy’s benefit, and Frannie was touched deeply by the planning and hard work that had gone into it. As Jean-Paul flamed the Chateaubriand table side, she watched her daughter and wondered what she was thinking. Dessert was flamed as well; it was a luscious cherries jubilee over vanilla ice cream, served with demitasse.

“You guys really know how to eat here,” Mandy said when it was all over and Louisa had cleared the table. “We don’t go to this much trouble at home.”

“Really?” Frannie asked, surprised by the revelation.

The girl hesitated. “Mom and Dad are very health conscious, you see. We’d all end up big as a house if we ate like this every night.” She took in Frannie’s appearance closely. “You must exercise like crazy to keep your figure.”

“Frannie takes excellent care of herself,” Clay said. “But one only has to look at her to know it.”

Frannie glanced up at him quickly, blushing in response to the compliment. “Why, thank you, dear,” she managed.

“Oh, I don’t know why people are so worried about their waistlines these days,” Alice said. “I’ve always been on the plump side, but I’m as healthy as a horse.”

“Which explains why you’re forced to take blood pressure medication,” Grace said.

“That has nothing to do with my weight, and you know it,” Alice told her. “If my blood pressure’s a tad bit high, it’s because those oil wells are driving me crazy.” She looked at Mandy. “There’s a lot of pressure in being an oil baroness, you know.”

“I’m sure there is,” the girl said. “In which part of Texas do you live?”

“Which part?” Alice said. She glanced at Grace.

“Uh, we live in the southern part,” the other sister said. “Where all the oil is, but enough about us Mandy dear, tell us something of yourself.”

“I’m afraid my life is rather boring compared to yours.”

“You must know all the bigwigs in Washington,” Blair prodded.

Mandy shrugged. “I’ve met a few at charity functions, but I don’t know many personally.”

“You don’t know any good-looking senators, do you?” Blair asked. “I wouldn’t mind being the wife of a senator.”

Mandy shook her head distastefully. “Most of the ones I’ve met are old.”

“Excuse me,” Frannie said, wishing to spend a few minutes alone with her daughter once Walter suggested they return to the living room. The truth was, she was nervous and a bit embarrassed by the tall tales coming from her friends’ mouths. “I’m sure Mandy would like to see her room now. We won’t be long.” Both Walter and Clay stood as the ladies made their way from the table.

Greta was straightening a picture in the foyer as Mandy was admiring the staircase. “Would you please tell me where Mandy will be sleeping during her visit?” Frannie asked.

“I had her things sent to the blue bedroom,” the woman said, then hurried away, leaving Frannie standing there beside her daughter and wondering what to do next.

Where the heck was the blue bedroom?

“Is something wrong?” Mandy asked, gazing curiously at Frannie.

“Huh?” Frannie chewed her bottom lip. Blue bedroom? Instead of saying anything, she led Mandy up the winding staircase. “Let me show you Clay’s and my room,” she said, hoping to put off the inevitable.

“Wow!” The girl’s eyes widened once Frannie opened the door and invited her in. “It’s beautiful. This place is filled with antiques.”

The girl checked out the bathroom and was even more impressed. She returned to the main room and took a seat on the settee facing the fireplace. “I’ll bet it’s cozy up here in the winter, with a fire going,” she said.

“Oh, yes,” Frannie told her, “very cozy.” She took the chair opposite her. “This room belonged to Clay’s mother before she passed.”

“What was she like?”

She hesitated. “I’m afraid I never knew her.”

“His father is super.”

“Yes, Walter is very nice,” Frannie said. “He’s always made me feel welcome here.”

“That’s because he sees how much Clay loves you,” Mandy told her. When Frannie looked surprised, she went on. “It’s obvious,” the girl insisted, “just by the way he looks at you.”

Frannie was tempted to tell her Clay was probably watching to make sure she didn’t steal anything. “I’m a lucky woman,” she said instead.

“How did you meet?”

Frannie didn’t have a problem answering the question; she and Clay had rehearsed that part. “In high school, I sat next to him in biology. I’m surprised I didn’t flunk the course for all the attention I paid.”

Mandy smiled. “I’ll bet he was handsome even then.”

“Oh, yes. Half the girls in school were in love with him. He had the most beautiful blue eyes. And wide shoulders.”

“So you started going out?”

“Not in high school,” Frannie told her. “I would have had to stand in line. Once he graduated he went off to college.”

“But you had to stay behind and take care of your mom, right?”

“Yes.”

Frannie had tried to prepare herself in case Mandy questioned her about the adoption. “Clay and I didn’t actually start dating until well after he returned from college,” Frannie said, which wasn’t an outright lie. “We’re very happy and thrilled you could visit.”

Mandy nodded as though it made complete sense. “How did you know you were in love?”

Frannie wondered if all thirteen-year-olds were as inquisitive as her daughter. “We just, um—” She paused, trying to think of a good answer. “It just felt right,” she finally said. “I felt safe and loved when he held me in his arms.”

Mandy was about to respond when a knock came at the door. Clay peeked in. “I just wanted to see if Mandy got settled in okay. Am I interrupting?”

Frannie shook her head. “No, please come in,” she said, grateful he’d shown up. “Actually, Mandy and I were on our way to her room when we stopped off here. Greta said that she prepared the
blue
room for Mandy,” she said, raising her eyebrows up and down like a Groucho Marx impersonator, as she tried to make him aware that she didn’t have the slightest idea where it was.

“We didn’t make it that far,” Mandy told him. “We’ve been chatting in here instead.”

“Girl talk?” he said with a smile.

Mandy grinned. “Actually, we were talking about you.”