The Widow and the Wastrel (7 page)

"Then you and Mrs. Carrel must be enjoying the reunion," he smiled.

"Yes," she agreed, knowing it was impossible to discuss the uneasy hostility that was tainting her life.

"I intended to call you tonight." Allan stepped down from the curb, bringing himself closer to her. "I put-chased two tickets to your charity dinner and I was hoping that you would give me the privilege of being your escort."

There was no reason for her not to accept, but Elizabeth found herself refusing. "I'm sorry, Allan, but I do have to be there early to supervise the arrangements. As one of the committee chairmen, I’ll have other duties throughout the evening that I'll have to see to. Perhaps it would be best if we simply planned to see each other there," she suggested.

She sensed his objection to her alternate proposal, but he didn't express it or allow any disappointment to show. If he was interested in her and she was fairly certain of that, he seemed to have no intentions of rushing her. Perhaps it was because he didn't want to risk offending a Carrel and take the chance of having a black mark placed on his record by the family's influence in the community. That was a bitterly distasteful thought.

"The weatherman promises that Sunday is supposed to be a beautiful day. How about you and me and Amy going for a picnic? Say around two?" Allan countered.

Hesitating for a second, Elizabeth was unwilling to refuse a second invitation from him even though she was just as reluctant to accept it.

"Would you call me this evening, Allan?" she stalled. "I'm not certain what plans Rebecca—my mother-in-law—might have made, with Jed back and all."

"Of course I'll phone," he smiled, "and keep my fingers crossed."

"I'll wait for your call," Elizabeth promised, reaching for the handle of the driver's door. "I really must get back now."

"Yes, I'm due at the office, too. I'll talk to you this evening, Elizabeth."

He was still standing on the sidewalk as she backed out of the parking place. She waved to him self-consciously, wishing she had refused the second invitation outright and wondering why she didn't want to go.

The Carrel home was two miles outside town, established many years ago by one of the ancestors who had combined his career as a judge with that of a gentleman farmer. In later years, the slight isolation from the rest of the community added to the image that they were apart from others like feudal lords of old.

Elizabeth didn't drive the car into the garage, but parked it next to the sidewalk to make it easier to unload and carry in the various packages. Amy was on the far side of the lawn under a large shade tree playing with her dolls. She waved, but didn't come over to greet her mother.

Balancing the precarious stack of packages in her arms, Elizabeth opened the front door of the house and walked in. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied her mother-in-law in the living room talking on the telephone. A pad was on the table beside her and a pencil in her hand. Rebecca glanced up and quickly, and vainly, removed the reading glasses from her nose.

Placing her hand over the receiver, she asked, "Did you get everything on the list?"

"Yes," Elizabeth nodded.

"You'd better take them right upstairs and hang them up before they get creased and need pressing," Rebecca instructed. Once the order was given, she resumed her conversation with the person on the telephone.

It was tricky negotiating the stairs when the packages didn't enable her to see her feet, but Elizabeth made it to the top without incident. Walking to the end of the hallway, she found the door to Jed's bedroom ajar and she pushed it open. She paused on the threshold, reluctant to step inside.

There had always been an impersonal air that had made it just another bedroom. Now, there was something strangely different about it. Glancing about, the only thing she saw in the room that belonged to Jed was the duffle bag sitting in one corner. The bed was expertly made without a wrinkle. Considering the washed dishes in the sink, Elizabeth was certain the hand that had made it belonged to Jed and not her mother-in-law.

Entering the room, she spread the packages on the bed. Curiosity turned away from them, directing her footsteps to the adjoining bathroom. There she found neat evidence of Jed's habitation with razor, toothbrush, comb, and aftershave lotion sitting on the counter next to the wash basin, unmistakably male.

The heady fragrance of the cologned lotion touched her nose. Elizabeth decided it was this faint masculine scent that she had detected when she had entered the bedroom. With a guilty start, she realized that she was snooping and backtracked swiftly.

The trembling of her fingers surprised her as she began untying the packages and removing the clothes from the folds of the protective tissue. There was a strange curling sensation in the pit of her stomach and a faintly embarrassed warmth in her face. It was silly, she scolded herself. She had hung up men's clothes before. Why was she self-conscious about it now, she asked herself as she straightened a suit on its hanger.

Turning to walk to the closet, Elizabeth found herself staring into Jed's lean face. He was leaning against the door jamb in much the same lazy, slouching position as she had seen him yesterday, his hands stuffed in his pockets. The expression on his leanly carved face was unreadable, but there was faint amusement in the topaz-brown eyes that were studying her intently.

Her fingers closed nervously over the sleeve of the suit jacket as his gaze swept from her to the packages on the bed and back. With a poise she didn't feel, Elizabeth turned away and walked to the closet, trying to make the movement appear natural.

"Your mother thought you needed some additions to your wardrobe," she explained off-handedly.

Chapter Four

"NO doubt she discovered that when she went through my things last night." His footsteps made no sound on the carpet, but Elizabeth could tell by the direction of his voice that he had moved to the bed. "You have excellent taste, Liza. I should have you pick out my clothes all the time."

"How did you know—" She spun around in surprise.

"That it was you?" Jed finished the question for her, plainly showing amusement in his expression now. "I couldn't imagine Mother running the town's gauntlet when she could send you in her place."

It had occurred to Elizabeth too that she had been used as a buffer for the town's curiosity, but she wasn't about to agree with Jed. She hung the suit in the closet and carried another wire hanger back to the bed.

"I opened our old account with Shaw's," she told him. "If there's anything I've overlooked, you can get it there."

"I'm certain Mother's list was as thorough as her search," Jed responded dryly.

"What makes you so certain that I wasn't the one, who went through your things?" Elizabeth asked, driven by a surprising impulse to defend Rebecca.

"I guess there's just something about you that makes it difficult for me to visualize you pawing through a man's personal clothing," he answered.

Bending over the jacket lying on the bed, she made a pretence of straightening the lapel to conceal the color that had swept into her cheeks.

"You did have your lunch, didn't you?" she asked in an effort to direct the conversation away from herself.

"Yes, at the Reisners."

"You were gone so early this morning that I thought you might have gone there." Elizabeth kept moving, occupying her hands with the clothes and walking back and forth to the closet to avoid any more than a brief glance at Jed.

"Freda, Kurt's sister, seems to like you," Jed commented idly. "As she puts it, you're not a snob like my mother."

"I like Freda too. She's very nice."

"It's strange that with you two living so close, you don't see each other that much. Freda said that mostly you just bump into each other in town."

"Well, you know how it is." She gave a stiff, smiling shrug. "I'm usually busy with a meeting of one kind or another. The free time that I do have, I like to spend with Amy."

"That's commendable, but I'm sure Freda wouldn't object if you brought Amy along. She seems fond of children. As a matter of fact," he continued with a complacent smile, "I was invited to dinner on Sunday and Fred asked me to extend the invitation to you and your daughter. I'm to let her know if you're going."

"That's impossible," Elizabeth refused immediately.

"Why?" For all its softness, there was a knife-sharp thrust to his question.

"Because I've already made other plans," she answered, suddenly glad that she hadn't refused Allan's invitation. It was a perfect excuse to avoid Jed's company.

"Really?" he mocked.

"Yes, really." Irritation flashed in her green eyes that he should doubt she was speaking the truth. "Amy and I have been invited to go on a picnic this Sunday."

"Since you have a prior invitation, I'll give your apologies to Freda," mocking skepticism was still in his tone.

"I am not making it up!" Elizabeth defended angrily. "Allan Marsden did ask us out this Sunday. As a matter of fact, he's phoning tonight to confirm it. I thought your mother might plan something extra for your first Sunday home or I would have accepted immediately." It was a small white lie, but one that she thought was justified under the circumstances. "Since you aren't going to be home, there isn't any reason not to accept."

"Allan Marsden?" Jed repeated. "He must be new in town."

"He's the hospital administrator."

"Did the hospital ever raise the funds for that new clinic they were wanting?" he asked.

"No." Suspicion loomed suddenly. "Why?" she frowned.

"Curiosity, I suppose," Jed shrugged disinterestedly, "You mentioned the hospital and I wondered if they'd ever accomplished that proposed expansion."

"If you're implying," Elizabeth didn't believe his question had been prompted by casual curiosity, "that Allan is seeing me in the hopes that, through me, your mother would be persuaded to make a sizeable donation, then you're wrong."

"I'm sure I am," he agreed smoothly.

"Allan leaves all that to his fund-raising committee."

"Of course."

Her lips tightened mutinously, the faint smile of mockery around his hard mouth goading her into losing her temper. His complacent tawny gold gaze studied the flashing fire of her green eyes.

"I doubt if Allan will even mention the hospital while we're on the picnic," Elizabeth defended again, her fingers tugging impatiently at the suit jacket on the hanger.

"He wouldn't be much of a man if he did," Jed stated with a curling suggestive smile. "A warm summer afternoon, a shady glade, a blanket on the ground, and you as a companion on that blanket—I certainly wouldn't be thinking about my work."

"You are impossible, Jed Carrel!" Elizabeth muttered. Walking angrily to the closet, she jammed the hanger hook on to the horizontal pole. "You twist everything until it manages to come out cheap and sordid."

"Do I do that?" He tipped his head to one side in laughing inquiry.

"You know very well you do." She removed the tissue from the last box.

"I'd better offer my apologies, then."

"Don't bother to pretend that you feel regret," she cut in sharply. The last outfit was in the closet and she began busily gathering the boxes and tissues together, loading her arms with them. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a great deal of work to do," she flashed with biting sarcasm.

"Please accept my thanks for choosing my wardrobe, even if it was at Mother's instigation." Again there was an underlying hint of mockery in his tone.

"It's only sheep's clothing, Jed," Elizabeth tossed over her shoulder before leaving the room. His throaty laughter followed her down the hail.

The evening meal was routinely eaten at seven o'clock, a time that had been chosen not because Rebecca thought it fashionable, but because her late husband had always worked past the five o'clock of-rice hours. The habit of eating at that hour had been too deeply ingrained to be changed after his death. Elizabeth had never minded it. It seemed to make the long evenings go by faster.

Allan Marsden telephoned her as he had promised, but his call came just as she was setting dinner on the table. She was on the living room extension when Jed wandered into the room. Staring at the brown suit he was wearing, one that she had chosen, she was stunned by the way it enhanced his dark virility. The suit fitted his muscular leannes so perfectly that it might have been tailor-made for him.

For a full second Elizabeth was aware only of his disturbing presence. Then she realized that Allan's voice was repeating the time of their planned outing and waiting for her acknowledgment. Forcing her clamoring senses to ignore Jed, she concentrated on the male voice on the telephone.

"Sunday at two is fine, Allan," she agreed with false enthusiasm. "Amy and I will be ready then. Are you certain there's nothing I can bring?"

"I've arranged for everything," he replied. "I didn't allow myself to consider the possibility that you might refuse. I'm glad you didn't, Elizabeth."

"Yes, well," she glanced apprehensively at Jed, realizing suddenly that he had no intention of leaving the room and that he was perfectly aware she was talking to Allan. He was deliberately eavesdropping, Anger flashed in her green eyes, prompting a flicker of amusement in the tawny eyes lazily watching her. "I really have to let you go now, Allan. We were just sitting down to dinner."