difficult to confront them now.
When he pulled up in her driveway she quickly said, 'Thank you for the ride, Marshall,' then jumped out before he could turn off the engine. She leaned down to look at him through the open window. 'I've changed my mind about Wednesday night. All things considered, I think it's best
if you find someone else to be your fourth at bridge.'
'Rachel, wait!'
But she was already heading for the house at a half-run.
Inside, she leaned back against the door and breathed a sigh of relief, waiting for her stomach to stop quivering. How acutely embarrassing. And, in a way, how sad. Dear friends were treasures not to be valued lightly, but how could she ever face Marshall again?
She wandered through the quiet house, pausing in the kitchen to stare out at the pool, recalling Tommy Lee sitting at the table, confessing that he'd never stopped caring, while she gave him no encouragement whatsoever. She meditated on Callie Mae's caustic assessment of the direction her life was taking. Was she really cold, merciless? She didn't want to be. She wanted warmth in her life just like any woman. But in Marshall's arms she'd felt nothing. Only with Tommy Lee did she come alive. Even when she was angry with him she felt exhilarated. And wasn't she the one who had so recently admitted to herself that what she'd wanted in her life was
occasional tumult? Like being overturned 257 in a swimming pool by a crazy fool who waded in in a dress suit? Then having him send her a blow dryer with a note implying that any woman worth her salt should fix her own hair? And why hadn't he told her the earrings were for Beth?
Rachel glanced at the phone and her heart accelerated at the very thought of hearing his voice. She recalled her father's stern order that she not see Tommy Lee again and asked herself if the reason she wanted to was simply to demonstrate her own headstrong independence. But it was something more, something deeper, a compulsion that simply could not be denied any longer.
She picked up the receiver with a trembling hand, wondering while she listened to the electronic beeps and rings if he might possibly have another woman with him, and how to open this conversation, which had her heart pounding even before it began.
He answered in an uninterested grunt, 'Yeah, Gentry here.'
The breath seemed to catch in her throat; then she closed her eyes and replied quietly, 'Hollis here.'
'Rachel?' The way he said it made her
imagine him slowly rolling his back away from a chair in disbelief.
'Yes.'
A long silence passed before he said again, 'Rachel…?was More softly this time, as if his world had suddenly come aright.
It took great effort to keep her voice steady. 'I've received three curious gifts in the past several weeks. You wouldn't know anything about them, would you?'
'Me? Nuh-uh.' But in spite of his levity there was an unmistakable quaver in his voice.
She smiled, picturing his dark teasing eyes. 'None of the cards were signed.'
'What kind of guy would send a card without signing it?'
She heard the snick of the lighter, then the soft rush of breath as he exhaled, and she pictured him stretching across a sofa or bed to reach for an ashtray.
'That's what I'd like to find out.'
'So, what'd he send you?'
'A blow dryer, a dozen roses, and a sack of beer cans.' But suddenly she dropped the game and her voice turned gentle as she held
the receiver in both hands. 'Thank you for the 259 roses, Tommy Lee. They were lovely.' She sensed once more how pleasantly shocked he was by her phone call and how careful he was being about what he said. She herself felt shaken as she tried to think of a proper comment regarding the beer cans, but being unsure if their cryptic message meant what she thought it did, she safely avoided the subject.
'Listen, Rachel, I acted like a damned idiot, tipping you over in the pool that way and carrying on like a Neanderthal. It'd be my own damn fault if you really meant it when you said you wanted to kill me.'
'I do,' she replied wistfully, suddenly feeling like crying. Then she added softly, 'Sometimes.'
Neither of them spoke for several electrified seconds, and she wondered again what his bedroom looked like, and if that's where he was, and if he'd been asleep when she called.
'You invited me to dinner on Friday night, but you didn't say which Friday. Am I too late to accept the invitation?'
His voice sounded forced and slightly breathless.
'Oh, Lord, do you mean it, Rachel?'
'If you still want me to come.'
'Want you to come!' He laughed ruefully. 'God, it's all I've thought about for weeks and weeks. This Friday?'
Something in the question sounded tentative. 'Oh, are… are you busy?'
'No… no!' She relaxed her shoulders, not realizing how much she'd tightened up at the thought that he might have other plans. 'And this time we will be chaperoned. That's a guarantee.'
She wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or not.
'Your daughter?' she asked.
'No.'
'But that was Beth with you at church, wasn't it?'
'Yes, things went sour between her and her mother, so she's living with me now.'
Rachel's heart felt a surge of joy for him, but he went on quickly, 'We'll talk more about it when I see you. Now, about Friday night-was
'But if it's not Beth who'll be chaperoning us, who is it?'
He chuckled and replied 261 indignantly, 'A dragon named Georgine. I hired her to keep house for me. But I've been tempted at least three times a day to tell her to ride her broom back to where she came from.'
'You hired a housekeeper?' Rachel's mouth fell open in surprise.
'That's right. Isn't that what you told me to do? One who could cook me low-calorie meals?'
'But I…' She felt chagrined at having been so outspoken, then having her criticism acted upon so spontaneously. 'Tommy Lee, I'm sorry too, for the things I said to you that day in the pool. I called you some terrible names and-was
'But you were right!' he interrupted. 'There've been a lot of changes around here. You'll be surprised when you see them. And Georgine will be cooking for us Friday night.'
She thought about his trimmer profile when she'd seen him at church, and about the message in the beer cans, and felt her heart lift with hope.
'What time shall I come out?'
'Rachel, I…' She heard him pull in a deep breath and sensed a boyish hesitation that seemed totally out of character for a man with a reputation like
his. 'Listen, I'd like to pick you up at your house, all proper this time.' He chuckled nervously, then added, 'I promise I won't dunk you or manhandle you or do anything that's not thoroughly polite. I'd be there at six- thirty.'
She remembered the other time she'd opened the door to find him on her step, and what a shock it had been. What a thrilling shock. But to get dressed and wait for him as she had years ago… Rachel closed her eyes for a second and felt a thrill of girlish anticipation at the thought.
'All right. Six-thirty.'
'Six-thirty,' he repeated.
Then a full ten seconds passed while neither of them said anything more.
Finally Rachel put in a wistful 'Well…'
He cleared his throat and repeated in a more businesslike voice, 'Six-thirty.'
She laughed nervously and reiterated for the fourth time, 'Six-thirty. Well, good-bye, then.'
'Bye, Rachel.'
When Rachel hung up the phone her face
