Second Time Around (15 page)

David set their suitcases beside the porch swing of the Rocky Ledge Bed-and-Breakfast and watched his Millie as she strolled its length. He loved the way her slim skirt hugged her legs. If only the plaid jacket didn’t cover up the best of his view. He’d asked her not to wear it. It was too… northwoods. “So. You approve of this place for our honeymoon?” he asked.

She looked away from him, out over the front yard that was dotted with red and gold mums. “It’s very nice.”

His eyes were drawn to the gravel parking lot where his pride and joy was parked: a 1958 Pontiac Bonneville Sport Coupe. He really should ask the proprietor for a cloth to wipe it off. Odd how it suddenly seemed as if he were looking at it for the first time. He’d had it for three months. A litany of facts ticker-taped across his brain:
The exterior is a two-tone Calypso and Burma green with chrome to the highest standards; power windows, steering, and brakes; a “Wonderbar” a.m. radio; a sliding Plexiglas sun visor; a “Memo-Matic” power memory seat; Rochester “TriPower” triple, two-barrel carbure
—

“Maybe I should leave you and your car alone?”

He realized he’d been staring at it. “Can’t a man be proud of his possessions?”

She didn’t answer.

“Millie?”

She gripped the railing. “Possessions. Yes, David. You are the proud owner and conqueror of all you survey.”

What was that supposed to mean?

This was not the first time she’d made such an odd comment. He passed it off as a stress-induced result of planning a wedding.

And yet… he studied her a moment. Her eyes were sad. There was no reason for her to feel that way. He’d planned a marvelous weekend. Everything would be perfect—if she cooperated. He moved to her side, pulling her under his arm. “Aren’t you glad you decided to stop being difficult and come?”

“Yes, David.”

He picked up the suitcases and headed to the front door. When she didn’t follow right away, he had to clear his throat. Why did she make him do that?

An antique check-in desk stood in the middle of the foyer. A silver-haired woman wearing a froufrou apron over an aqua dress came out of the back. “Welcome, welcome!”

David removed his hat and shook her hand. “I’m David Stancowsky. I have a reservation.”

She moved behind the desk, readying a check-in book. “Yes, indeed, Mr. Stancowsky. My name is Mrs. Stephens. We have your room ready. If you’ll just—”

Millie pulled on the sleeve of his suit. “David? You said we’d have two rooms.” She looked at Mrs. Stephens. “We’re not married yet. We’re just checking out the accommodations to see if we’d like it for our honeymoon.”

David couldn’t believe she contradicted him. This woman didn’t need to know the details of their lives.

Mrs. Stephens put a hand to her mouth. “Oh. I see. Well, yes, we do have two rooms available.” She led him through the paperwork and handed him two keys. “Dinner’s at six-thirty. Will you be joining us?”

“That would be nice,” Millie said.

David palmed the keys. “Actually, no. We can’t. We have other plans.”

“What other plans?” Millie asked.

He picked up their luggage. “Let’s go see the rooms.” He accentuated the plural
s
just a bit, hoping she’d notice.

“Mrs. Stephens?” Millie asked. “I’d love to have a tour of the home. It’s absolutely lovely. And I adore antiques.”

Since when? David wanted to be alone with her, not eyeballing some out-of-date dresser.

The old woman looked at him, then back at Millie.

“Please?”

“Of course, Miss...?”

“Millie Reynolds. Call me Millie.” She turned to David. “Go on up, darling. Get settled in your room. I’ll be up shortly.” Then she walked into the parlor, exclaiming to Mrs. Stephens about some rocker.

What had gotten into her? As the two ladies moved on with their tour, he had no choice but to take the suitcases upstairs or stand like a lackey in the hall.

He’d deal with her later.

David had already unpacked their suitcases—in their respective rooms. He glanced at his watch. He would wait five more minutes before seeking her out, strongly suggesting that she get upstairs, with him, where she belonged. He was just putting his wallet and keys on the dresser when he heard a tap on the door.

“Come in.”

Millie opened it, peering in. “Oh, there you are. I wasn’t sure which room you’d be in.” She buzzed inside, commenting on the antiques in the room, giving a running commentary of all Mrs. Stephens had told her.

He said nothing but sat in the wing chair before the fireplace, his hands clasped.

She fingered a vase painted with flowers. “Did you know the china Mrs. Stephens uses for the meals was her great-great-grandmother’s? It was brought here on an immigrant ship, all the way from England.”

She finally glanced at him. Then away. He tightened his jaw even more. “Where are the suitcases?” she asked. “I’ll unpack.”

“I’ve already done that.”

“Oh.” She wiped her palms on her skirt. “So. Is this your room or mine?”

He spoke again but didn’t move. “It was supposed to be
our
room.”

She sidled past him to the window, pulling aside the lace curtain. “We agreed, David. No hanky-panky before the wedding.” She suddenly smiled. “It’s starting to rain!”

He got out of the chair to look. “Why do you sound happy about it?”

“Oh. I’m—I’m not.” She watched the rain, yet her face
did
look oddly happy. “I bet these roads get really slick in the rain. Dangerous.”

“Not if you know what you’re doing. And what do you care? I’m the one who drives.”

She shrugged. “I told Mrs. Stephens we’d be here for dinner. We might as well take full advantage of the place.”

“But I told you—and her—no. I have other plans for us.”

She sighed deeply and took in another breath. “Frankly, David…” She shook her head. “I’m sick of your plans.”

A response stuck in his throat.

She took a few steps away from him, her arms crossed. “In fact, I think this would be a good time to clear up some of the plans
you’ve
made for our wedding.”

“What are you talking about? There’s little to discuss. I’m taking care of everything.”

“You’re
taking care. Not we. Always you.”

“I’m just trying to do things right. I have connections. And your father has given me free reign—”

“My father sees you as the son he never had—and always wanted.”

“That’s a bad thing?”

“It is if you’re the invisible daughter.”

A headache loomed. “Your father is laying down big bucks to give us the kind of wedding we want.”

“You
want. You’ve never asked me.”

“Are you picking a fight with me?”

She took a step toward him. “What are you going to do? Hit me?”

What?
“Millie. You don’t want to do this.” He’d never hit her. Ever. He wouldn’t hit a woman.

He saw a flicker of doubt on her face before she raised her chin defiantly. “I’m tired of this conspiracy between you and my father, trying to control me.”

She’d never objected before. In fact, Millie’s agreeable nature was one of the things David loved about her. She was a good woman, and an obedient daughter. She was a woman who knew where she belonged in the scheme of things. She’d make the perfect wife.

She continued her ranting, not needing him to goad her on. “I am sick of you acting as if you know me, taking care of every detail. You’re loving me to death. You’re smothering me, David. I have opinions. I have dreams. And if we’re going to get married—”

The “if” got his attention. “What do you mean, ‘if’?”

She crossed to the door. “I’m not sure marriage is a good idea. For me to go directly from my parents’ home to yours…”

“But where else would you go?”

“I could get my own apartment. Live alone awhile.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, your father and I have an agreement.”

Her laugh was bitter. “A business agreement. He wants you to take over his construction business as the son he never had. I’m merely part of the benefits package.”

“That’s not true.”
Not completely true.
He moved toward her, his arms outstretched. “I love you, Millie. I adore you.”

She spoke under her breath. “You want to possess me.”

He stopped short of touching her. “You’re exaggerating again.”

She glared at him. It was a look he’d never seen before. And it scared him.

How had they gotten to this point? He tried to backtrack. “Millie, dear, let’s calm down. Don’t ruin the weekend I planned.”

“You planned! You planned! Where was I in this planning?”

“Right where you should be. By my side.”

She laughed again. “Or two steps behind you.” She opened the door. “I have to get some air. Alone.”

She slammed the door, leaving David staring at it. How dare she say these things after all he’d done for her? If it wasn’t for him planning the wedding—showing some good taste—they’d be having a tacky affair that would not speak well of his business. Her
father’s
business. Mariner Construction’s image. She was a sweet girl, but it really would behoove her to realize his talent in such things.

He turned around and looked at the chair by the fireplace. He would settle in and wait for her. It wouldn’t take her long to realize what a fool she’d been.

He took a step toward the chair when suddenly, the flash of an image invaded his mind and stopped him cold. The image of a car hurling off a cliff. A two-tone Calypso and Burma green car.

Ridiculous.

Or was it?

He whipped around to the dresser. His keys were gone!

He ran downstairs, burst through the front door, and down the porch steps. Millie was in the car, but she’d flooded it. He ran toward her through the rain. She saw him and her face contorted in panic. She fumbled for the lock, but he got to the door and yanked it open.

“Leave me alone, David! Let me go!”

Rain pelted them, as well as the car’s interior. He reached across, pushed her hand aside, and took the keys. She stared at her empty hand. Her shoulders dropped. She let out a breath. Good. She’d realized her foolishness.

He pulled her from the car, relieved to be able to close the door against the rain. Logic said they should run, but David sensed Millie had no run left in her. He practically had to carry her up the front walk. “Now, now. I don’t know why you got yourself so worked up. Enough of this nonsense. Where were you going to drive anyway? As you said, it’s raining. It’s dangerous. You have no business being on the road. You could have been killed.”

Her voice was a whisper. “I could have hurt your precious car.”

As they reached the steps, Millie raised her face to the rain, forcing them to stop. What
was
she doing? “Come on, Millie. Don’t be stupid. You’ll catch your death.”

She looked at him as if he’d said something profound, then lowered her head and let him lead her inside.

“There. All cozy warm.” David gave Millie’s covers one final tuck. He placed his arms as posts on either side of her and leaned close. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you. People don’t get cold feet seven months before the wedding.”

Her eyes sparked. “So there’s a rule for that, too?”

He let it go. He didn’t want to upset her again. “If you’re a good girl and go right to sleep, I won’t even tell your father.”

She turned on her side, ruining all his hard tucking-in work. “Good night, David. Make sure the door’s locked on your way out.”

He retrieved an afghan from the foot of the bed and moved to a chair by the window. “I’m not going
out
.”

She bolted upright. “What?”

He sat, draping the afghan around his legs. “I’ll sleep here tonight.”

“No! I mean, there’s no need.”

“I want you to feel safe and secure.”

She hesitated, then managed a smile. “I’m… I’m fine. You paid for two rooms. It would be a waste of money for you to stay here.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

She looked toward the door, then back at him. “But people will talk.”

He conceded the point. “Yes, they might. But you know what they’ll say?”