Spring fancy

find out it wouldn't work?'

Fern's shoulders seemed to wilt a little. She propped one hand across her stomach, dropped her face into the other. Wordlessly she shook her head.

'And you haven't asked me anything about Joseph, mother,' Winn added softly.

'What does… Joseph do for a living?' her mother obliged coldly.

'He runs a body shop.'

Fern raised one eyebrow, snorted softly and left the room.

But the worst was over. Winn had little doubt that telling Paul wasn't going to be nearly as hard as telling her mother. Oddly enough, it seemed Paul was less emotionally involved than Fern Gardner.

* * *

He came off the plane, beaming, with a clothing carrier slung over one shoulder. 'Winn, I've missed you.' He gave her a kiss while they walked, and launched into a joyous recitation of the wonders of Silicon Valley.

'Do we have time for a cup of coffee?' Winn asked before they headed for the luggage pickup.

'Sure. Anyway, there's so much I want to tell you.'

Odd, he didn't notice Winn's uncustomary distractedness while they sat over coffee in The Garden restaurant at Twin Cities International. He was carried away with exuberance. Winn felt extra guilty to have to prick his balloon, but by now all she wanted was to have it out in the open so she could start making restitution and get her life back on track.

After nearly thirty minutes Paul asked, 'How is everything back here?' Only then did he notice the shadows in her expression. 'Something's wrong, isn't it?'

'Yes, Paul, something's very wrong. You aren't going to like it when I tell you, but I promised myself I would, immediately. It's bad news for us, and it's going to hurt you, I'm afraid. For that I'm sorry.'

He leaned forward and took her hands in his, studying her with a look of deep concern. 'What's wrong, Winn?'

She'd rehearsed it dozens of times. She took a deep breath, gripped his fingers and said straightforwardly, 'I want to call our wedding off.'

He blanched and went speechless for several seconds. 'Temporarily?' he asked.

'No… permanently,' she answered quietly, releasing his hands.

To Paul's great credit he reacted with poise in spite of the fact that his face went from bleached white to peony pink in a matter of five seconds. 'Oh… I see.' When Winn remained silent, he amended, 'No, I don't see! I thought everything was so great between us.'

'Paul, answer me honestly. Which brings you greater-' she searched for the proper term '- ongoing joy-me or your work?' He considered for a moment and turned a brighter red than before. 'See?' she insisted, leaning forward. 'I'm not criticizing you for it. I'm telling you something we both should have recognized long ago. We joined forces because of mother, because you and she had so much in common that when she met you, she thought she just had to have you for me. But, Paul… I… I don't think I love you. I admire you. I respect you. But I don't love you.' She paused, then asked, 'Will you be very, very honest and tell me if you really love me. Or did we fall together because it worked so smoothly, having the support of our parents as we did? And consider if you wouldn't enjoy me much, much more if I played chess and loved to tinker with computers myself, and enjoyed talking about them with you like mother does. Paul, that's the kind of woman you need. Somebody with an analytical mind that's as inquisitive as yours.'

'I can tell you've been thinking about this for a long time.'

'It's been… coming on for a few weeks, yes. But I was caught up in the crazy whirlwind preparations for the wedding and couldn't face telling the world-not to mention my mother-that I was canceling everything.'

'Can you really do that at this late date? What about all the invitations you sent out already?'

'I'll handle everything, Paul. And I'll make it clear whose fault it was.'

His eyebrows took on a frosty expression. 'Is there someone else, Winnie?'

This was the most difficult question of all, for Paul didn't deserve to be hurt. 'Yes, Paul, there is.'

He inhaled deeply, held the breath long, then released it in a giant whoosh, his shoulders sagging. 'Well, that settles that.'

'Paul, I'm terribly sorry. And if it's any consolation, mother is furious with me. She isn't even talking to me.' Winn reached out and touched the back of his hand. 'Please don't take this in the wrong way, Paul, because I don't mean any disrespect, but it's too bad you and mother aren't closer to the same age. You'd make the most wonderful husband for her.' Then she leaned across the table and kissed his cheek while Paul grew totally flustered and seemed unable to meet her eyes. That's when she knew she'd guessed right.

* * *

It was shortly after eight-thirty that evening when Winn Gardner stepped on the back stoop of Joseph Duggan's house. The radio was on in the kitchen. Tammy Wynette was belting out 'Stand By Your Man' in her inimitable cracky voice, and water ran for a moment, then was turned off. Winn angled a peek through the screen and saw the left half of a Duggan back, dressed in a gold-and-black baseball uniform, shoeless, with a black cap pushed onto the back of his head, washing dishes. She waited until she was sure which Duggan it was, and when his profile appeared for a second, she smiled, opened the screen door silently and slipped inside. Even his back turns me on, she thought, watching as he rinsed a cup, set it on the drain board, then plunged his hands into the soapy water. The stretchy gold fabric of his breeches clung to his legs like an orange rind, displaying each dent and bulge. There was a grass stain on his left bun, and she smiled, picturing him as a boy, though loving him as a man. When at last she spoke, her voice was soft and quavery. 'Hiya, Jo-Jo.'

He spun around. Detergent bubbles flew from his fingertips and drifted to the floor. His stockinged feet, in their black baseball leggings, were braced wide apart, like an outfielder waiting for a fly. There was a puff of dust on his right cheek, and his shirt was filthy, as if he'd managed a beauty of a slide, belly first. His conglomerate appearance was totally incongruous-the soiled virile athlete with his hands in soapsuds. He gaped at her as if she were a ghost, while she tried to act as if every cell in her body wasn't leaping to get at him. In the same trembling voice she asked, 'Need somebody to wipe for you?'

'Winn… my God… Winn.'

'Is that all you can say is Winn? After all I've been through today just to get out of one very fast-approaching wedding for you?'

In one leap he slammed against her, nearly knocking her breath out while taking her off her feet and against his chest, with both of his detergent hands leaving wet prints on the back of her yellow cotton blouse. 'Really? Oh, babe, really?' But he didn't give her time to answer. His mouth crushed hers, wide and wet and celebratory as he whirled them both in a circle.

Her arms made a nest for his head, knocking the baseball cap askew while they kissed and kissed and kissed, moving their heads in impatient and wondrous circles, yet still unable to satiate themselves fast enough to believe it was real. When at last she drew her mouth back to say, 'Yes, really,' her smile was as wide as center field, yet his was even wider. His beautiful bedroom eyes sparkled with the smile she loved, the one that half-closed them while his perfect teeth peeked from behind upturned lips. While he still held her aloft, she appropriated his black baseball cap and put it on her own head so she could get her fingers into that wonderful wealth of fine curls she loved so much.

'You really called it off?' he demanded one more time.

'I really called it off. I told mother to cease and desist. I gave my apologies to Paul. I told the realtor to come and get his damned sign out of my yard and sent the buyers packing, then came to you as fast as my car could get me here.'

His mouth possessed hers again, and while they kissed, he let her slide down the front of him with very deliberate slowness. Her blouse caught on his uniform buttons and shimmied up her tummy, and his hands slid beneath it to caress her bare back and ribs.

Tommy Duggan, dressed in a uniform matching Jo-Jo's, turned the corner into the kitchen, came up short at the sight greeting him, folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the archway, smiling.