James, Stephanie (17 page)

she
had
been a different woman that night she had lain in Dev Colter’s arms. She had been vibrant and

alive and passionate.

Why couldn’t she be that way again? Deliberately Tabitha went to the special section of the shop where

she housed the reproductions of medieval bestiaries and took down several of the magnificently illustrated

volumes. Hauling them over to the counter, she opened each one to the section on the phoenix and began

to read.

Phoenixes, it seemed, only went through their fiery regeneration once every five hundred years. Well,

allowances would have to be made on that score, Tabitha told herself dryly. She was going to turn thirty

in another couple of days; surely that milestone in a woman’s life could substitute for the

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five-hundred-year mark of a phoenix’s! She stared at all the various woodcuts and drawings of the birds,

moodily trying to imagine herself as a renewed and entirely different woman. A woman like she had been

that night on the ship.

But such a woman needed a man to appreciate the radical change, Tabitha told herself derisively. Where

was she going to find such a male? She knew plenty of people, having lived in town for the past six years,

but they all saw her as she was, a quiet, unassuming woman who hadn’t been able to hold onto a

husband for more than a few months. They had all felt very sorry for her when Greg had left, of course,

but Tabitha doubted that any of them had been very surprised.

What she needed was a way of formally announcing her new image, Tabitha decided. She would give

herself a thirtieth birthday party.

It was a cinch no one else would remember to give her one!

With the care and precision of a determined military commander, Tabitha devoted herself to the plans

for her thirtieth birthday party. Just the act of organizing it was something of a catharsis. Her pent-up rage

and humiliation gave her the necessary energy to see the huge undertaking through. She had never

planned anything on such a scale in her life, and it took more work than she would have imagined.

“You want two cases of that Cabernet?” her friend at the wine shop asked dubiously. “Are you sure you

don’t mean just two bottles?” He knew as well as anyone else in the neighborhood that Tabitha Graham

did not entertain on a grand scale.

“Two cases, George,” Tabitha confirmed, “and a case of the Sauvignon Blanc ’81, too. Now let me see

your cheese selection. And I’ll want a large quantity of sourdough bread, too. Can you order that for

me?”

“Well, sure, but, if you don’t mind my asking, why do you need so much food and wine, Tabitha?”

George Royce scratched his graying head and smiled at her with curiosity.

“For my thirtieth birthday party, George. Oh, by the way, you and your wife are invited. Bring anybody

else you can think of, too, please.”

“Anybody else? How big a party is this going to be?”

“As big as I can make it!”

The sign went up in the bookshop window the day before the event. Done by a friend who had an art

gallery down the street from Tabitha’s bookshop, it depicted a beautiful version of a phoenix and

announced to all and sundry that everyone was invited to Tabitha’s home the following day.

“You’re going to get some freeloaders with an open invitation like that,” Sandra Adams warned as she

walked into the shop that afternoon.

“That’s all right. I’ve got plenty of food. A few freeloaders won’t matter,” Tabitha declared airily. “Are

you coming, Sandy?”

“Oh, sure. Wouldn’t miss it. Everyone’s coming. We’re all a little curious. What happened to you on

that cruise, Tab? You seem different, somehow.”

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Tabitha smiled serenely. She had taken to wearing all her clothes without a bra this past week, and more

than one person had commented on the “change” in her. And she’d caught more than one pair of male

eyes straying to the loose fitting shirts she was wearing with her jeans. The open attention was still a little

awkward to handle at times, but Tabitha was grimly sticking to the plan.

“I had a wonderful time. Found out what I’ve been missing all these years, Sandy. You wouldn’t believe

how people act on those cruise ships.”

“I’ve heard stories.” Sandy grinned. “To tell you the truth, Tab, I think it’s terrific. I mean, the change is

for the better. You seem more lively somehow. Even Ron noticed it.”

“Is he coming?” Ron was Sandy’s brother, who visited frequently from Seattle.

“You bet. He was planning on coming to Port Townsend this weekend anyway with a couple of friends.

They’ll be there. You know Ron. Offer him free beer and food and he’ll turn up for anything.”

Several young tourists in the shop jokingly called attention to the sign and asked if it truly was an open

invitation. Tabitha assured them it was. To her delight a few said they might stop by on the evening of the

party.

Tabitha used one of the books from the home entertaining section of The Manticore to help design the

arrangement of food and beverages. Anxiously she went over and over the details, leaving nothing to

chance. It was a bit frightening to plan a party of this magnitude. What if no one showed up?

That secret fear of all neophyte party-givers was still haunting her the evening of the party as she dressed

in a dashing, black dress bought especially for the occasion from a friend who owned a boutique. The

dress was a floating thing of sheer, black cotton designed with a wide, bateau neckline and full, dolman

sleeves. It was bound at the waist with a wide red leather belt that emphasized the curves above and

below.

Any threat of poor attendance was dispelled almost as soon as Tabitha finished brushing her hair. The

doorbell began to ring, and it didn’t stop for the next hour and a half. Nearly everyone who had been

invited and several others who had seen the sign in the shop window showed up to celebrate Tabitha’s

thirtieth birthday and to satisfy their curiosity about the change in Tabby Graham.

Circulating through her overcrowded living room, Tabitha did her best not to disappoint any of the

curious. The blazing fire on the hearth made a fine focus for the event. Someone had already settled on

the sheepskin rug in front of it.

“I never realized what a nice job you had done on this old cottage,” Sandra Adams exclaimed, glancing

around the room as Tabitha pushed a glass of wine into her hand. “I really love all those framed prints of

your weird medieval animals. Somehow it all mixes very nicely with the black sofas and the polished

wooden floors. And that rug under the glass coffee table is fantastic! Where did you get it?”

“It was a lucky find in Seattle.” Tabitha smiled, glancing with just a trace of unease at the fringed rug she

had once loved so much. It showed a fabulous dragon, complete with wings and gleaming eyes, and it

reminded her far too vividly of the beaten and bloody dragon she had discovered in the alley on St Regis.

Both were creatures of myth, having no basis in reality.

“Oh, here’s Ron and his friend now,” Sandra observed, swinging toward the door as it opened to admit

her handsome younger brother. Ron Adams was about twenty-five and blessed with over six feet of

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height. He worked out regularly at a Seattle health club, and it showed in the well-sculpted lines of his

chest and shoulders. He wore his jet black hair in a casual, windblown style that nicely complemented his

dark eyes and the tan he got skiing every winter.

The man who accompanied him was about the same age and sported a dashing mustache. Both took

one look around at the lively throng and seemed to approve.

“Over here, Ron!” Sandra called above the din.

Tabitha glanced assessingly at the younger man as he approached. She had met Ron once or twice in the

past, but she doubted if it had been a memorable occasion for Sandra’s good-looking brother.

“Hi, Tab, nice to see you again. Thanks for the invitation,” he drawled, his dark eyes running appraisingly

over the thin black cotton dress his hostess was wearing.

Tabitha was learning to recognize that speculative gleam in a man’s eyes now. She had seen it more than

once this past week. The first time she’d ever seen it had been when Dev Colter arrived at her door the

morning she had chosen not to wear a bra for the first time. That particular undergarment was tucked

away in her lingerie drawer tonight, too. Gamely she ignored a twinge of self-consciousness and

summoned up her brightest smile.

“I’m glad you could make it, Ron. And I hope your friend enjoys himself.”

“Oh, he will. Any beer?”

“Lots of it. Help yourself.”

“Great. I’ll be right back.” His gaze strayed again to the black dress.

“Hmm,” Sandra murmured as her brother disappeared in the direction of the serving area. “Why do I get

this funny feeling that Ron is suddenly developing an interest in older women?”

Tabitha chuckled. “Not likely,” she demurred. “But from my point of view, I have to admit I’ve heard

some good things on the subject of younger men.”

“Something along the line of ‘Get ’em young and train ’em right’?” Sandra giggled. “Not a bad idea.

Good luck with him, Tab.”

Tabitha was aware of the embarrassed flush in her cheeks, but she managed a small grin.

Ron wasn’t the only male who reassessed Tabitha Graham that night. As she determinedly threw herself

into the role of hostess, Tabitha was aware of several glances, and there never seemed to be a lack of

masculine assistance when she needed help opening new bottles of wine or carrying trays of appetizers.

On the one hand it was all very flattering, but on the other it didn’t seem quite real. Or perhaps it was the

free flow of wine which gave a tinge of unreality to the evening. The stereo was never silent, and the

crowd in the living room seemed to swell rather than diminish throughout the evening. Thank heaven she

had bought all those plastic glasses, Tabitha thought fleetingly at one point. She would long since have run

out of her own glassware.

By one o’clock in the morning Tabitha was beginning to wonder how such an evening concluded itself.

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As far as she could tell no one seemed anxious to go home. Ron Adams was constantly around now,

consuming her beer and wine in great quantities. His friend had disappeared long since with an attractive

blonde whom Tabitha didn’t recognize. Sandra Adams was involved in an intimate discussion with a

young fisherman she had discovered near the fireplace. Throughout the room the laughter and the alcohol

mingled.

By two o’clock some of the throng finally decided to take their leave. Tabitha, who had lost count of the

glasses of wine she had consumed, cheerfully waved goodbye from her front porch and then turned back

to the doorway to find Ron waiting with yet another glass for her.

“Great party, Tab,” he mumbled quite thickly. His dark eyes gleamed once again with male speculation.

“How old did you say you were?”

“Thirty,” she murmured, sipping at her wine. Everything was beginning to take on a hazy, dreamy aspect

that was really rather pleasant, she thought.

“I’m twenty-five,” he told her and then smiled hugely. “I hear it’s the latest trend.”

Tabitha blinked, momentarily losing track of the conversation. It had been harder and harder to

concentrate on such things for the past two hours. “Trend?”

“You know, men having affairs with women who are older.”

“Ah, yes. The latest trend.” Tabitha nodded wisely.

“There’s something kind of exciting about it,” Ron confided.

“I’m all for excitement.”

“Me, too. Life is too damn short. Best thing you can do is fill it full of excitement,” Ron agreed with a

profundity born of a rather high percentage of alcohol in his bloodstream.

“Absolutely.” Tabitha took another swallow of wine and somehow lost her balance on the porch.

Carefully she put out a hand and braced herself against the wall. Then she smiled once more. “Get ’em

young and train ’em right.”

“Get what young?” Ron took a step closer and had to grab at the wall himself.

“Males.”

“Male what?”

“Male whatever,” Tabitha explained with a vague wave of her hand. “Puppies, dragons, basilisks, you

name it. Best to get ’em young and train them properly. Older ones are likely to be mean and vicious.”

“No kidding?”

“Yup.”

“I want you to know,” Ron said very carefully, if rather unsteadily, “that I consider myself very

trainable.” He edged a little close, using the wall for support.

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“Good.” Tabitha took another sip of wine and frowned intently. “First lesson is never bite the hand that

feeds you.”

“W-wouldn’t dream of it,” Ron assured her.

“Second lesson…” Tabitha paused, trying to concentrate. Then she brightened. “Is never to play

games.”

“No games.” Ron draped his arm around her shoulders and raised his glass in salute to the second