Wyoming Wildflowers: The Beginning (4 page)

“Uh-huh.” She answered absently, preoccupied by the realization of how easily they’d talked. On the walk back, the few silences had been relaxed and comfortable.

Except for the silence when they’d kissed. Definitely not relaxed.

“Talk about what a man should look like — yum,” Raeanne said.

“Just those shoulders. Those are something a girl could sink her teeth into.”

“Please, MaryBeth, don’t tell us those details,” Lydia begged.

“Totally wasted on Donna, of course,” said Nora.

Ignoring the decidedly wasp-tongued Nora made life easier, so Donna didn’t dispute the comment. But she’d had a couple serious relationships in college, had even discussed marriage with Jeff.

She’d shared a normal amount with her girlfriends about those relationships, and had been in on conversations with these girls about their admirers in various cities. She just didn’t feel like sharing this evening with Ed.

Especially with Nora in her audience.

Lydia propped her hands on her hips and said to Nora, “Just because
you
raise the men-in-a-lifetime average doesn’t mean everybody has to.”

“He looked like he was a real gentleman,” Raeanne said, jumping in to keep that animosity from flaring yet again.

Donna picked up by singing a phrase about being waited on by a guy like he was a maître d’ from “If My Friends Could See Me Now,” Sweet Charity’s best-known song, with Raeanne, MaryBeth, and Lydia joining in on the last phrase.

“Except your cowboy’s even better because he’s not looking to get tipped like a maître d’,” Raeanne said.

“No, he’s looking to get something else entirely.” Nora smirked.

Lydia glared at her. “So what if he is, Donna has the right to a sex life. As long as she remembers they’re ships passing in the night and not to get tangled up.”

Nora rose from her spot on Donna’s bed. She still moved fairly well, but the smoking and drinking were definitely showing. There were rumbles she might not have the role of Helene much longer. Some said because she’d be taking over the lead when Angela moved on and up. Some thought otherwise.

“As long as she doesn’t get other ideas,” Nora said. “Men aren’t looking for a girl to take home to mother when they hang out at stage doors, not even when they see little Donna.”

No one disputed that. Although Ed
had
said — No. That was just . . . conversation.

Lydia said staunchly, “Doesn’t make any difference, since Donna’s only looking for fun.”

Then she looked at Donna, who couldn’t do anything but agree. “Exactly. It’s probably all moot, anyway. I doubt I’ll ever see him again.”

“God,
moot
,” Nora mocked. “Another of your college girl words.”

Nora never let it be forgotten that Donna had
wasted time
getting a college degree before pursuing a life in theater. Unlike — according to Nora —
real
theater people.

With the door now open and one of her extremely long legs curled around the edge of it the way she did in “Hey, Big Spender,” Nora said, “I’ll tell you what’s not
moot
— what’ll happen to you girls if Angela hears you singing any of Charity’s songs, even in the shower. Not even little Donna’s cowboy could save you.”

On that exit line she was gone.

It broke the party up. “Because she’s right,” as MaryBeth said in a carefully low voice. “Nora might be a cat, but Angela’s a tiger.”

Donna didn’t sleep much.

Perhaps because of the conversation. Perhaps from considering what might happen if two ships that passed in the night came across each other a second night. Or, perhaps, because of the time she spent staring at the ceiling, realizing Ed hadn’t said a word about seeing each other again.

Did she feel it?

She’d never mentioned being involved. If she were, she would have said. She was too honest not to.

That didn’t guarantee she felt anything for him.

She had to. This couldn’t be all on his side.

Couldn’t be.

Did she feel it?

He thought so. In the moment her sweet mouth touched his, he’d felt no doubt. That wonderful mouth, so generous in smiling and laughing . . . And kissing.

But lying here alone in bed, Ed couldn’t be sure.

And it wasn’t like they had time on their side.

Before those moments in the hotel lobby Wednesday afternoon, he’d been ready to return to the Slash-C. So eager to start putting into action ideas picked up here that he’d planned to move around Sunday appointments to be able to leave Saturday.

Not now.

God, all they had was Friday, Saturday, Sunday.

But he wouldn’t rush her.

No matter what.

No matter how much he wanted her. No matter what he saw in her eyes. No matter how little time they had. He wouldn’t do that to her.

She had to feel this, too.

Relief so strong it smarted her eyes was Donna’s first reaction.

Ed Currick stood outside the elevator when its door opened at the lobby the next morning. As if he’d stood sentry all night. Except he had shaved. And dampness in his hair and across the shoulders of his jacket showed he’d been outside in the flurries she’d noticed from her room window.

Still, the notion that he’d stood here, in the spot where she’d left him, pooled irrational warmth in the pit of her stomach.

She was going to see him again. She
was
seeing him again.

“Ed.”

Relief, and maybe something else
.

“Good morning, Donna. You said you like to see the towns you’re in, and I hope you’ll see some of Denver this morning with me, then have lunch.”

She tried to keep her smile from stretching too wide. It was daylight, and their ships weren’t passing. They were standing face to face—

“Excuse me. The rest of us would like to get off the elevator.” Lydia’s voice from behind her made Donna jump.

She and Ed moved sideways. “Oh, sorry! Uh —”

“Hi, I’m Lydia, Donna’s roommate.” She stuck out a hand, and he shook it as the others started past, blatantly studying Ed. “And you’re Ed, and now I’ll make my much desired exit.”

“Nice meeting you, Lydia.”

“You, too, Ed.” She waved, then called to the others, “Wait up.”

Perhaps in response to Lydia’s call, MaryBeth turned back toward them, her words reaching them clearly: “. . . if he does, we’ll get a week off from her dragging us to dusty old museums.”

Lines fanned out from the corners of Ed’s eyes, though his mouth remained straight. “So, if I take you to dusty old museums, I can win points with you
and
your friends.”

As if he needed any added points with them. Or her.

“You’d think I was trying to kill them by getting them to know a little about the towns we’re in,” she said. “I don’t even try to get them on tours anymore. You should have heard —”

“You do have a way of showing up at my door,” came the familiar — if not quite as famous as its owner liked to think — voice of Angela Ford from behind Donna. By stepping aside from the first elevator, she and Ed had moved in front of another, this one a direct trip to the exclusive floors.

Angela addressed Ed, and only Ed. She placed a hand on his arm.

Donna supposed Angela meant it to look as if she were gently guiding him out of her way. More like the woman was holding on to him with no hint of letting go.

“Morning, Ma’am.”

Ed reached up to touch the brim of his hat, easily dislodging Angela’s hold, at the same time grasping Donna’s elbow and drawing her to his side with his other hand.

“Good morning, Angela.” She added a bright smile.

“Oh. Good morning.” She looked from one to the other of them. Her smile disappeared. “My car’s waiting.”

With that, she swept past.

“Family, huh? Wasn’t that what you said last night?” Ed said, as the exterior doors swung closed.

She chuckled. “Every family has a few difficult cases.”

“So, what do you want to see first?”

“Oh, Ed, I’m sorry. I can’t. I would love to, but I have to be at the theater. That’s where we’re all heading. Well, I don’t know where Angela’s going. But the rest of us. With everything going on, there hasn’t been a run-through for understudies.” It was her favorite part of their routine. But now, for the first time, she would have willingly given it up. “But after lunch —”

He shook his head. “I have afternoon meetings.”

“Oh.”

“Would you go to dinner with me? Supper I guess, after the show?”

“I can’t. I have —” She stopped dead, a sudden idea speeding through her head.

“Plans,” he filled in evenly. “I’m not surprised. I should have asked last night, but . . .”

His eyes dropped to her mouth. Her breath disappeared. He hadn’t asked her about tonight’s plans last night because he’d been busy kissing her. Busy kissing her and being kissed back by her.

“No, no. I was going to say — well, yes, I was going to say I have plans, but not those kinds of plans. It’s just . . . it’s the opening night party, and even though we have them in about every town, they want us to go, mingle with the community, important people.”

“I understand. It’s part of your job.” He sounded relieved.

“Yes, it is. Only —”

“Like going to the stock show for me.”

“Yes. Only—”

“We have responsibilities and — what?”

She had her hands on her hips and was looking up at him. Possibly glaring up at him. “For someone who started off not talking much, you’re making it hard to get a word in edgewise.”

He grinned. She thought it might not be good that he grinned when she was probably glaring at him. But that thought was way, way down in her reactions, compared to how that grin spread warmth across her skin and little jigs of pleasure under it.

“Sorry, Donna. Go ahead.” And then there was the way he said her name . . .

“Okay. What I was going to say . . . ” She seriously doubted her expression came close to a glare now. She shook herself. “Would you like to come to the opening night party?”

“With you?”

“Of course with me,” she said indignantly. Did he think she was fixing him up with somebody? Angela, maybe? Hah!

His grin broadened. “Yes. I’d like that a lot.”

“So, Angela heard you singing a Charity number, huh?” Nora asked as they filed into the shared dressing room after the last curtain call.

Shared, yet with placements in the dressing room as finely tuned as the billing. Nora, playing Helene, and Lydia, playing Nikki, had individual makeup tables and mirrors. The rest of them shared a communal set-up.

“No,” Donna responded without much interest.

She’d had the oddest feeling on stage tonight. When she’d noticed it, she’d remembered a similar feeling last night. She didn’t recall it from yesterday’s matinee. Had it been there Wednesday night, too? She thought it might have been.

“Well, something was going on,” Lydia said. “Even Angela doesn’t usually miss her mark that many times.”

“And wasn’t it strange how when she did, it kept blocking out Donna?” Raeanne said earnestly. “What?”

Nora clicked her tongue impatiently. Lydia rolled her eyes.

Maudie stepped in. “That hem’s about to come out again,” she said to MaryBeth, who obediently took off her costume and handed it to a waiting wardrobe assistant. Maudie patted Raeanne on the shoulder. “They know Angela was blocking out Donna. That’s why they’re talking about her missing her marks.”

“Oh.”

“So, what did you do to our star?” Nora insisted.

Lydia’s lips parted, then she met Donna’s gaze through the double reflections — her mirror and Donna’s — and closed her mouth.

MaryBeth was looking only at her own reflection as she began to remove her makeup. “I bet it has something to do with that guy. The Cowboy.”

“Ya think?” Nora mocked.

Before she could say more, Angela swirled in, still in costume and makeup, as if fresh from additional solo curtain calls. When they all knew there hadn’t been any after the last cast bow.

The room went still. Angela did not mingle with the rest of them. Ever.

“Ah, Maudie, there you are dear, I do need your assistance.” She looked around the room, as if suddenly realizing where she was, then bestowed a smile on all.

Her entrance had carried her down the length of the shared makeup table. Now she stopped near where Donna sat.

She reached out absently, and picked up the silver-handled brush Donna’s parents had given her. “How lovely,” she murmured, then added immediately in full voice, “A lovely performance tonight, everyone. Lovely. Particularly you, hon.”

She beamed at Donna, and started toward the door. “Maudie?” she invited — or ordered — the other woman to precede her, with a wave of Donna’s brush.

“Thanks, Angela,” Lydia said, snagging the brush out of her hand as she passed.

She gave a trill of a laugh. “How silly of me.” Then was gone.

Nora got up and closed the door, then stood with her back to it. “Now do you believe me?”

“About what?” asked Raeanne, ever the straight-woman.

“That Angela is on the warpath against Donna,” Nora said with relish. “And it’s going to tear this company apart.”

“Oh, for —”

Donna talked over Lydia. “I’ve never done anything to her, and I’m sure she would tell you the same thing.”

“You don’t have to have —”

The bang on the door made Nora yelp and the rest of them jump. “Half-hour! Half-hour to stage!”

“Good God, now Brad’s timing us to get into our street clothes.”

“It’s only because of the party tonight,” Raeanne explained kindly. “You know he likes us all to be on hand from the start to meet the important local people.”

“I’m going to murder him,” Lydia grumbled, but absently.

Because they had all buckled down to the serious business of getting ready.

Donna found Ed waiting for her by the stage door, in close conversation with Grover. She wondered about that, but had more immediate concerns.

Those stemmed from Lydia’s incredulous response just now when Donna had said she’d invited Ed to the party.