Cold Tea on a Hot Day (14 page)

And Parker had been very busy these last weeks, too, as he always was with each springtime. She had seen him only on brief occasions, and a number of days they had only spoken on the telephone. In fact, Parker had not made one tiny mention of the marriage proposal in these weeks.

While she remained uncertain about marrying Parker, Marilee did know that she did not want to lose him altogether. She and Parker had enjoyed a good friendship; they knew each other quite well in ways that some people could only imagine.

Certainly Parker deserved much more than the neglectful attention she had given him of late. And now that her guilt was working on her, she began to berate herself for foolish behavior in throwing away something dear and precious that she had with Parker.

She reached for the telephone and dialed his number at the veterinary clinic. Parker himself answered.

“Would you like to come to supper this evening?” she asked straight away, thinking maybe she should have identified herself. It was possible he had forgotten her voice during these days of little communication.

“Ah…yeah, that’d be great.” He seemed surprised but eager as he explained he had surgery on a dog to complete before he could get away.

“That will be fine,” she said, pleased to accommodate him. “We will have lasagna.”

She hung up and threw herself into motion.

A Woman Like Her

I
t was growing dark when Marilee spread the cream-colored linen cloth over the small table in the dining area. She set two tapered candles in crystal candlesticks in the middle of the table, then stood back to observe the look, wondering if she was getting carried away.

She was not trying to get Parker all worked up. It was just that she felt she owed him something for her recent neglect of him, for disappointing him in the sexual department, and for his patience in waiting for her to make up her mind about his marriage proposal. He deserved repayment for putting up with her indecisiveness.

She had, since phoning him about supper, been trying to decide about marriage. The question had lodged like a splinter in her brain, and she had not been successful in working it to one side or the other. She simply could not bring either a yes or a no to the forefront. What she hoped to accomplish tonight was to be able to work herself more
in the direction of yes, and to keep Parker over on that side, too.

She was gathering silver and the good china plates when there came a rap at the back door. Tate smiled at her through the glass. She was not all that surprised. Had she been thinking of it, and not so much about her dilemma, she would have expected him; he had been dropping by for brief visits every few days since moving into the big house beyond her fence.

“Hello,” he said when she opened the door.

“Hello.”

She stepped back, letting him enter, glad to see the appreciation in his eyes as he looked at her, glad to know that she could get a man’s blood up.

Then all this gladness produced a great anxiety. She was, of course, dressed for Parker, so she did not need to be so glad to see Tate. Of course it was simply a normal thing, pleasure at a man’s appreciation. But she had everything planned out here. She didn’t need Tate Holloway interrupting.

“Wow, it smells good in here,” Tate said.

“Lasagna.” Then she hurriedly added, “I’m having Parker for supper.”

Tate’s eyebrows went up. “You are? Does that mean you cooked him…or you’re havin’ him…here, I mean?”

“Parker is coming to supper,” she stated, ignoring his innuendo and heading into the dining room with the plates and silverware.

Tate, of course, came right on her heels. Setting the two places and folding the linen napkins, she refused to look at him. It paid to be cautious around Tate Holloway,
who was such an unpredictable man. He seemed to awaken tendencies that she did not need to have. She hoped he left quickly. She had already experienced the awkwardness of trying to deal with the two men together. They had been a handful together the previous week, during the Coke taste-testing episode.

“Well, looks like a romantic dinner for two,” Tate said.

“Yes.” She felt his intense gaze and didn’t want to meet it. Best not to encourage him.

He followed her back into the kitchen.

She told him that she was sorry she didn’t have time to visit with him, but Parker would be arriving any minute.

He pulled out a chair and sat down anyway. “I wanted to let you know that a new notebook computer will be delivered tomorrow…probably in the afternoon. A technician will bring it and make certain it is all set to work on the network. I should be able to get a firm time tomorrow morning, and I’ll call you.”

“Okay. Oh…I’d planned to do some shopping. I’ll do it in the morning and try to be home by one.” She got the lasagna out of the oven.

“I’ll make sure the tech works around that schedule.” He leaned forward and sniffed the air with appreciation. “Woo-ee, that smells delicious.”

She set the casserole on a trivet and admired it.

“The kids aren’t goin’ to get any of that?” he asked.

“They ate earlier. They’re in bed.”

“Too bad.” He was eyeing the dish. “I just had a ham sandwich a couple of hours ago. No cheese, either.” He looked at her.

She jerked her gaze away and popped the foil-wrapped Italian bread into the oven, then wiped her hands on a towel. “Is that all you needed—to tell me about the computer?”

His eyebrows went up. “Yes, I suppose so.”

To her relief, he rose and started for the door. Then, his hand on the doorknob, he stopped. “You know, Lindsey isn’t the man for you.”

It took her a few seconds to process this startling comment.

“He isn’t?”

“No, not at all. A woman like you needs a more mature type.”

What could she say to this outrageous statement? And what did he mean
“a woman like you?”

“My first husband was older by fifteen years.”

“I said mature type, not necessarily getting on in years.”

“I suppose you have come to know me, and Parker, enough in two short weeks to form this opinion?”

“I’ve been a journalist for a long time. It’s a job that teaches you about people. Parker Lindsey isn’t up to you.”

Up to her?
It made her sound like she was a trial.

She gazed at him, with his arm propped on the doorjamb and his body draped there like so much sovereign male.

“Well, thank you for your opinion. You’ll understand if I feel I have to make my own decision.” He had managed to draw her along where she did not want to be.

“Oh, yes, I suppose you do. Everyone has to find things out for themselves.”

“Yes, and now you can leave.” Her strong urge to have him out propelled her into incivility. She quite suddenly could not face him and Parker together, and went so far as to step forward, motioning with her hands, as if to sweep him out.

A foot from him, she found herself eye to eye with him.

She gazed at him, and he gazed at her.

She thought for an instant he was going to kiss her, to reach out and take her to him with his strong arm on which blond hairs shone and kiss the fire out of her. She turned her head, in the manner of veering away, knowing she could not, under any circumstances, let him kiss her.

“I have a dinner guest due to arrive any moment.” She adjusted the apron around her waist.

He opened the back door and then stopped, saying, “Oh, could I borrow some tea? I meant to ask for that right off. I’d like to have some iced tea, but I don’t want to have to go to the store.”

She went directly to the cabinet, opened the door and reached in for the box of tea bags. He wanted to know if she had loose tea.

She threw the box of tea bags back on the shelf and strode to the freezer.

As she delved into the freezer for the box of tea, she heard Parker’s soft call from the living room and his footsteps approaching.

“Well, good evenin’, Lindsey,” Tate said. He had planned this.

“Yeah…hi.” Parker’s eyes went from Marilee to Tate and back again.

“Tate was just borrowin’ some tea. He’s leaving.”

“Yes, you two have a nice evenin’,” Tate said, casting a wave before letting himself out the back door.

“Is that guy over here all the time now?” Parker frowned as he rolled his sleeves to wash his hands.

“He has only been over here a couple of times.” She got the bread out of the oven.

What in the world had he meant,
“a woman like you?”

“What is this?” Parker asked, observing the formally set table with surprise and wonder that gave her great pleasure.

Marilee, who was lighting candles, blew out the match and smiled. “I thought we could have a quiet meal and relax. That’s all, relax a bit, talk a bit. We need to talk. The children ate earlier. Willie Lee’s already asleep. Corrine’s reading, or she was. I’ll check on her in a minute.”

She went to the kitchen for the food, and Parker stepped quickly to help her.

“I’m starved,” he said, eyeing the food with an enthusiasm that made her feel she had done a very good deed after all.

So, Tate Hollway…you and your opinion can go jump.

“Here,” she said, handing him the bottle of wine. “Please pour our glasses, while I go check on the children.”

She left him in the kitchen and went to peek in the children’s bedroom, hoping to find both children asleep. They were. Willie Lee was out with his face buried in the pillow, as usual for him. Munro, who had taken to sleeping
with Corrine in something of a sentry manner, opened his eyes but didn’t move. Corrine had fallen asleep with the book on her chest. Marilee removed the book and turned out the lamp, and could not resist touching each child’s head.

Returning, she paused in the hallway. She stood there, with her breath held and time stopped, looking across the living room at Parker sitting in the glow of the candlelight. The wine in their glasses sparkled.

Did she dare tell him she would marry him? It was time. She should not let him get away. She
did
care for him, and her heart swelled with feeling.

She stepped out, determined to follow where the night led.

“Kids asleep?” he asked, eating heartily from his salad.

“Yes. Corrine fell asleep reading. She’s been such a light sleeper, but Munro seems to have helped that. She seems to be sleeping through the night since he started staying with her.”

“Hmmm.” He was eating quite hungrily, in the way that satisfies a woman.

Marilee passed the plate of Italian bread toward him. “Try the bread. I got it fresh at the bakery today.”

He bit into a slice of the buttery bread and made an appreciative sound. “This is delicious, just delicious,” he said, pointing to all the food with his fork.

“Thank you.”

Serving herself, she looked at her plate and inhaled the rich aromas of butter and garlic. She looked across at Parker. She realized that she was attempting to feed Parker a full luscious meal in order to make up for denying him
an intimate portion of herself. Apparently she was succeeding.

She took up her own fork and began to eat. It was delicious. She had outdone herself. She should have made two dishes of lasagna and frozen one.

Parker lifted his wineglass. “To the cook.”

She lifted hers, clinked against his, and then drank deeply.

Attempting to start the conversation off with easy topics, Marilee asked Parker if he’d had any interesting cases lately. He replied that he hadn’t had anything out of the ordinary, although he
had
had the tragic case of a mare dying in foal.

“Real nice barrel-racing mare,” he said, and he paused in his eating, his shoulders slumping, and sat there with a dark stare at the table. Even knowing the facts of life, Parker always blamed himself a great deal when he lost an animal, and Marilee always felt helpless, because she could do nothing for him.

Trying to retrieve a positive focus, she asked about the mare’s baby, and he said, brightening, that it was a healthy filly, that he had secured a wet mare for it from Ray Horn, and the mare had taken the filly immediately. “Ray didn’t think the mare would take the baby, but I’ve done it before. Some mares do, some don’t. This one did.”

“Well, that’s wonderful,” Marilee said. “Who owns the baby?”

“Leanne Overton. She’s Charlene’s cousin. I guess she’s livin’ out there with Charlene and Mason for a while. Some trouble with an ex-husband, I gather.”

Marilee tried to remember Leanne but could not.

Parker offered the information that she was quite a successful barrel racer and that she had three high-dollar horses, another one ready to foal any time.

“Do you suppose that the children and I might come along with you sometime and see a live birth?” Marilee asked, feeling enthused at the idea.

Parker said, “I guess so.”

Marilee had the uncharitable thought that she could do with him giving up the word
guess.

“Aren’t they a little young for that sort of thing?” he asked.

Marilee, who found his hesitant tone annoying, pointed out Willie Lee’s early acquaintance with his rabbits. “If children are acquainted with the facts of life in a natural way, they accept it as natural, as it should be. And Corrine is already so far advanced in biology. I’ve been looking at schoolbooks for her for next year. It is amazing what kids are taught these days.”

“So you plan to have Corrine with you next year?” He frowned with disapproval.

“I don’t know…. I guess I’m not planning anything.” Oh, dear, now
she
was using the word. “But I
am
prepared.”

She didn’t like the feeling of needing to defend herself. Maybe it had something to do with “a woman like her.” Tate’s phrase repeatedly echoed in the back of her mind—and in his voice, too. She wished she could slap the image.

She drank the rest of her wine and then pointed out that she planned on next year in the same manner that most people planned on next year. “I hope to be alive, and thus
far I am given to believe that Corrine will for some time need me to be looking after her.”

Parker nodded, appearing to take that in. After a minute, he said, “How is Anita doing? Have you heard from her?”