One Night With You (16 page)

Kendra didn't mention the law to them, for she didn't wear that role unless she was in court. She merely allowed herself to enjoy the fun.

The following Thursday evening when the curtain rose on the first performance of their play, she received a standing ovation when she walked out on the stage, and her three new friends sat front-row center. She glanced at Reid, who stood in the wings awaiting his cue to join her onstage, and he, too, applauded her.

After the applause died down, Reid sauntered out, picked up a newspaper from a magazine rack, sat down on the sofa and opened it.

“Tonya walked out of the room right while I was talking to her and slammed the door so hard that that copy of Matisse's blue nude fell off the wall,” she said, speaking as Lissa to her husband, Don. “I won't stand for such behavior from my own daughter.”

He opened the paper to the sports section. “So you won't stand for it. What did you do about it?”

She walked over to the man, whose face was hidden behind the newspaper, and stuck her hands on her hips. “What
could
I do? She's a princess spoiled by you.” She pointed a finger at him as he turned the page. “She left the house and hasn't come back. I want you to do something.”

“If you're smart, woman, you'll let me read. I worked my ass off all day. I'm tired, and I'm entitled to a little relaxation.” Suddenly, he rested the paper on his right knee, and she jumped back. “What did
you
do today?”

Angry now and puffing to show it, she poked out her chin. “I worked mine off, too, but I can't come home, sit on my behind and read the newspaper. Right now I have to cook your freakin' supper. So don't get me started.”

“You've already started,” he said, picking up the paper, “and if I can't read in peace, I can go to the bar and read. If you force me to do that, I'll be back when I get back.”

She tossed her head and rolled her eyes. “Like I care. While you're out there, see if you can find your daughter. I wash my hands.”

He threw the paper on the coffee table, knocking over the bud vase that contained one half-dead yellow rose. “My daughter?” he exclaimed. “You're the one who…Oh, what the hell! What are we fighting about? I'll give Tonya a good talking-to when she gets home.”

“Don.” She lowered her voice. “Suppose she doesn't come home. She's been gone every bit of two hours.”

“Oh, for Pete's sake. Don't be so melodramatic, Lissa. I can take just so much of it.”

“That last part was not in the script,” she hissed at him under her breath.

“No, but you're enjoying browbeating me,” he hissed right back.

“Suppose our Tonya becomes a missing child,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet for the benefit of the audience.

He took out his cell phone and dialed a number. “Where are you?”

“I'm with my friend Denise in the ice cream parlor,” Tonya said.

“If your behind isn't in this house in fifteen minutes, it'll be a year before you get another penny in allowance. I am not buying you another thing for six months. School's out at three-thirty, and you're grounded after four-fifteen. When you learn how to treat your mother, I'll treat you differently, and not before. Two of your fifteen minutes are up, and I'm not joking.” He closed his cell phone to the audience's thunderous applause.

Lissa stared at him, her mouth agape. “What's come over you?” she managed to say.

“I'm damned tired of…I didn't get married in order to live as a celibate. Whenever I do something to annoy you, you either have a migraine at bedtime or you turn over and say no, and you're never annoyed at me unless Tonya acts out or I pamper her. Well, the pampering is making her foolish, and from now on, if she acts out with you, I'll punish her. I'm through giving up the good stuff.”

She looked at him from beneath lowered lashes, patted the back of her hair and said, “Oh yeah? Well, honey, you just say what's what.”

The curtain fell on the first act, and they walked backstage together. “You overdid that flirtation at the end there,” he said. “Remember I've been celibate for weeks now.”

“Right, and you just told the whole town. That part about your being celibate is not in the script. Watch out! I can come up with some cute ones, too.”

“You have to take a curtain call,” Mike Reinar told them. “Go ahead. They're yelling for you.”

They took a bow separately and then together. Mike greeted them with his hands spread out, shaking his head. Perplexed. “I don't understand it. You guys perform perfectly as we rehearse, then you start making it up and it brings down the house. Well, go for it.”

“I never know when it's going to happen,” Reid said to Mike. “She comes on so strong sometimes that I feel I have to defend myself. The problem with the script is that the writer has never met Kendra Rutherford. Man, she's standing there wagging her finger in my face, and—”

Mike released a soft whistle. “Give him a break, Kendra. You got the man frustrated.”

“Hang it up, you two,” she said, using slang she'd heard that morning. “It's time for the second act.”

“You don't know how close I came to shaking you during that first act,” he said when they met at a restaurant north of Queenstown later on. “You were like a ball of fire on that stage. All I could think of was getting you in bed and wearing myself out with you. Try to keep it between the lines, baby.”

“I was acting, and you weren't, Reid Maguire. You were Donald I-forget-his-last-name.”

“Woodson. Well, you sure as hell were Kendra Rutherford when you stuck your hand on your hips and swung your butt for emphasis.”

She couldn't help laughing at him. “I think I would have enjoyed acting as a career,” she said.

“You would have been a first-class actor. You make me forget that you're acting.”

“What a nice compliment! I hope I have the same effect on the audience.”

“From that ovation you received when you walked out onstage, I'd say you do.”

“Oh, I think that was because I left Albemarle Gates. Did I forget to tell you that I had visitors for the first time the day I moved in?”

He put his fork aside and gazed at her. “Yes, you forgot to tell me. What happened?” She told him about her visitors and the pleasant hour that she had spent with them.

“That's wonderful, sweetheart. Good news, indeed.” A grin formed around his lips. “Hereafter, I'll have to call before I go to your house.” The smile faded. “I'm glad you're going to have friends. I've always enjoyed friends, but I discovered that, as Billie Holiday sang, ‘…when the spending ends, they don't come back no more.'”

“I'm your friend,” she said, wanting to erase the sadness in his eyes.

“I know that, and it means more to me than anything.”

Reid wondered if Kendra knew how much he'd just told her. “I think we ought to celebrate,” he said. “Tomorrow evening after the play, let's have dinner at a first-class restaurant and then dance until the music stops.” He reached across the table and caressed her hand. “What do you say? You're starving me to death for good loving, so you can at least keep me happy otherwise.”

“A celebration would be wonderful. As for the rest of that verbalized daydreaming, I'm not going there,” she told him.

“What time shall we get together?”

“Seven. I'll go to you, since no gossipers will be watching your place.”

“I certainly hope not. I'll expect you at seven.”

“My nose itches,” she said, and began to laugh almost uncontrollably. “My granddaddy always said that means good news.”

He wondered if she was about to become hysterical, but that didn't suit her personality, so he asked her, “Is your grandfather living?”

As he guessed, she sobered at once. “He died when I was little, and I still miss him.”

“Do you think he would have approved of me?”

To his amazement, she didn't hesitate. “He would have loved you. My granddaddy thought highly of your type of man, and don't ask me what type that is. Let's go. I'm still pooped from all that work you and I did tonight.”

He gazed at her, expecting a reaction, and when there was none he quipped, “Please don't say that around anyone else. Much as I'd enjoy a strong manly reputation, I don't think that suits a judge.”

The implication of what she'd said seemed gradually to dawn on her. “Right,” she said, with what had to be a greatly restrained facial expression. “Let's go.” But since she refused to laugh, he figured he'd better not do it, either. As they strolled through the restaurant's parking lot to his car, he took her hand, enjoying the precious anonymity. At the moment, life was good.

He had tried to maintain a low profile among his coworkers, for he didn't want any of them to think that he expected or deserved special favors. Jack Marks gave him permission to design the building for Marcus Hickson, but he knew that Marks and Connerly would not have taken the job.

“I know you're not an engineer, Reid,” Jack said to him after he arrived at work the following morning, “but I'd like you to have a look at our terminal in Caution Point. I understand that it's attracting photographers, so I'd like to know that it's going precisely according to your plans.”

“I thought Kennedy was the engineer for the project. Won't he get his back up if I'm snooping around?”

“Point taken. What do you suggest?”

“We could have a weekly or bi-weekly conference on it, give him a chance to say whether he sees any problems. If so, I could check it out. I'll go there if you think it's necessary, but I'm fairly certain it would cause hard feelings, Jack.” Reid shrugged. “But it's up to you.”

“I'll have an informal meeting with the three of us tomorrow.”

His next assignment would tax his abilities. It occurred to him that Jack intended to use him for the most difficult jobs, and he didn't mind the experience, but he was no longer dejected, no longer in a pit trying to see daylight, and he was not going to permit Jack or anyone else to take advantage of him. Little did he know that opportunity would knock soon, bringing with it both discord and dilemma.

“Would you come to my office?” Jack said to him over the intercom after lunch that day. He wondered that the man didn't greet him, and that he spoke like a boss, just short of ordering him to come to his office.

“Yes,” he replied with equal detachment and wondering if his cordial relationship with Jack Marks had come to an end.

He walked into the office where Marks and Connerly sat at the conference table. Jack did not ask him to sit down. With his guard up, Reid said, “You want to see me, Jack?”

Jack leaned back, his demeanor that of a boss certain of his status and power.

“You've been soliciting work for yourself again, and that is not permissible.”

“I've done no such thing,” Reid answered, “and I want you to withdraw that accusation. If anyone says that I've solicited an architectural design job since Reid Maguire and Associates folded over seven years ago, that person is lying.”

Jack leaned forward. “You're telling me that—”

Reid narrowed his eyes, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “Who told you that I solicited work? I want to see that liar.”

“Now, Reid, maybe I shouldn't have said it the way I did, but it comes from someone I've trusted for years.”

“You've misplaced your trust. You'll have my resignation in twenty minutes.” He turned to leave. Talk about a downer!

“Wait a minute. Not so fast. I don't want your resignation.”

“And I won't work for a man who doesn't respect me.”

“You're the best architect I've got. I don't—”

Reid interrupted Jack for the second time and didn't care if he did. “I know I'm the best architect you have, and I also know that you take advantage of me, but I'd do the same if I were in your place, so I don't mind. For now. When I get tired of it, I'll leave.”

“Mr. Marks,” a voice said over the intercom, “a Mr. English is here to see you. He says it's urgent.”

“You deal with your guest,” Reid said to Jack. “I'll be in my office.”

“All right, but I don't want you to resign. I'll make you a junior partner.”

“Yeah,” Reid said, “but you've exploited me for the last time. I'd like to know who the hell told you that lie.”

Twenty minutes later, his phone rang. “Maguire speaking.”

“Reid, this is Jack. Would you mind coming to my office? I apologize for that scene earlier. I was totally misled.”

Reid took his time. He didn't want to be buttered up, and he was in no mood to be gracious. He walked into Jack's office and saw, with Jack, a man he hadn't seen before.

“Reid Maguire, this is Reginald English, and he tells me he's come a long way to see you.”