Bett was trapped between the back of the refrigerator and the wall. She looked up at him from on her hands and knees, a toothbrush in one hand.
“What the Sam
“Hi,” she mouthed back. She was damp, hot, frustrated and irritable…but the bewildered look on Zach’s face almost made her chuckle. She made motions to show what she was doing-the toothbrush, the small bowl of pasty- looking cleanser and water, and the corner-and shot him a mischievous grin. “Zach, you
“Hmm,” he commented noncommittally, and reached down as she reached up for a quick kiss. “Caruso’s out there. He claims he told you he wanted twenty more bushels.”
She grinned again. “He always says that when the produce is good. It usually means he’s irritated that he didn’t order more because he knows he can sell it. You told him you always wanted that Mercedes of his?”
Zach looked blank. “No.”
“And the grandchildren, Zach. He talks about the grandsons, but it’s the granddaughter who’s the apple of his eye. And after that, you mention that Joe Cranston offered you a quarter more per bushel than he did.”
Zach heaved a sigh. “Two bits, who the hell is Joe Cranston?”
Bett shook her head sadly. “Sweetheart,” she said with exasperation, “Joe Cranston is a figment of my imagination, of course. I swear, Zach, you’re incurably honest.”
And Bett, Zach thought idly, was incurably winsome. Her rainwashed hair had dried in a flyaway halo; her small frame was tucked quite comfortably into that tiny square; and the blue eyes staring up at him were clearly inviting. “Come out of there and say that,” he suggested threateningly.
“You two,” Elizabeth said affectionately. Zach straightened up, only to see his mother-in-law swabbing at his footprints with a rag. Guiltily, he backed up, and by the time he reached the doorway, Elizabeth was handing him his boots.
“I want to talk to you before you go back to work,” she whispered as they walked toward the front door. “Zach, I…I’m very grateful you were willing to ask me here. I want to tell that I’ll be very, very careful not to get in your way. I want you and Brittany to just go on and do things exactly as you always do…”
Elizabeth was on the eccentric side; she could also be a sweetheart. Zach gave her a hug, reassured her, made a token stab at guessing the hour he would be in for dinner and escaped outside. He found himself thankful gulping in a lungful of fresh air. He
The incongruous picture of Bett cleaning behind the refrigerator brought a wry grin for a minute…but the grin faded. He’d already urged Bett to do whatever she had to do to make her mother’s transition to the house easier, and to forget about the farm. In his mind, though, he had anticipated a break for Bett, and had hoped that Elizabeth might take on some of the household jobs that exhausted his wife at the end of an already tiring workday. Liz loved housework, and she wanted to be needed. Inviting her had seemed an honest exchange of needs.
Let them be, Zach thought absently. After all, Elizabeth had only been there an hour. If he felt a sudden trace of uneasiness, it was merely because he was already feeling tired and exasperated. Caruso was waiting.
Chapter 4
“Do you like it, Zach?” Elizabeth asked worriedly. “I made it especially for you.”
“Wonderful, Liz. Really.” Zach viewed the slice of salmon loaf on his plate with a haunted smile. Elizabeth had served the dish the first night she was here, and to please her, he had complimented her on it. Five days later, it was being served again, now that she had established it as his favorite.
Bett tossed him just a wisp of an unholy smile. She knew Zach hated salmon. He served himself another helping of green beans. Picking up her fork again, Bett stifled a yawn.
Plum harvest had just started. With both peaches and plums going on at the same time, she barely had time to breathe, even if Zach took on the brunt of the work. In the meantime, she’d spared every free minute she could for her mother…and that included, so far, every single evening. Elizabeth did her best worrying after midnight, after she’d tried to go to sleep and discovered that the house was too quiet.
Now, everything was going well, Bett told herself. Just as she’d been telling herself regularly since the minute her mother had arrived. The two women were getting along splendidly, better than they ever had before. There had been no friction, none of Elizabeth’s tearful crying bouts; her mom’s face had taken on color and animation. Everything Bett wanted for her mother had been happening. And Zach must have told her a dozen times that it was an ideal arrangement, that she should just stop worrying about the farm work that wasn’t getting done and spend as much time with her mother as she wanted.
It would have been very selfish indeed to admit that anything was bothering her. The canaries cheeping at five in the morning didn’t bother her. The fact that making love with Zach had been interrupted twice by their resident insomniac didn’t bother her. Coming home after seven straight hours in the orchards to wash ceilings with her mother didn’t bother her. Her mother’s delicate suggestions that ruffles and padded bras and makeup “would help” didn’t bother her.
Nothing bothered her. Not even tonight. Bett was close to being slaphappy tired. And Zach hadn’t even guessed that something odd was afoot, even though her mother was sitting there in a black linen dress.
Zach viewed his mother-in-law with increasingly suspicious, though hooded, eyes. Elizabeth favored colors that verged on fluorescent.
He hardly knew what to do with the peace.
“Are you going out to work after dinner, Zach?” Elizabeth asked idly.
“For a while. Just to tinker with a carburetor for a short time.” Not long. Bett’s eyes had shadows under them. Since his wife, for some strange reason, had given up sleeping this past week, he was determined to get her into bed at a reasonable hour. For one purpose or another. The pale yellow smock she wore had long sleeves and an open throat; she looked feminine and tiny and delectably touchable. In the meantime, she and her mother exchanged swift glances.
Elizabeth rose, reaching for the empty plates. “Well, if you have to work after dinner, you have to, I guess, Zach.”
“Hmm.” That was not the tune she’d been singing previously. Elizabeth had been meeting him at the door with iced tea and long, ego-boosting monologues about how hard he worked, how strong he was and how much he needed a little spoiling. He’d sponged it up, the first two days. By the third day, he was thanking God that Bett was nothing like her mother.
“You two aren’t planning on going anywhere after dinner, are you?” he asked idly.
Bett lurched up from her chair; Elizabeth shot him a startled look. “What on earth makes you say that?” his mother-in-law asked with a little laugh. “I’m going to get you your coffee now, Zach, and if you want some dessert-”
“No, thanks-honestly, Liz. I’m more than full.”
“Well, there are eclairs in the refrigerator for whenever you want them. I made them especially for you; Bett told me how you-”
“Thank you.
“I’ll be right back,” Bett promised from the doorway, and disappeared.
Elizabeth glanced at the empty doorway with a sour expression. “We were just going for a little drive.”
“Anywhere special?”
“Can’t hear you,” Elizabeth told him over the rush of both water faucets at the sink.
“Still can’t hear you. Could it wait until I get the dishes done, Zach? Oh, your coffee…”
“No need,” Zach said quietly, which Elizabeth heard just fine.
He found Bett inside the closet in their bedroom, bending over as she slipped into a pair of heeled sandals. Sniper was lounging on the buttercup-yellow spread; Zach scooped the cat up, plopped him outside the bedroom door and closed it.
Bett stiffened at the sound of the door closing. She gave one quick glance at the interesting scowl between her
