Moon Dance (36 page)

"Well, she went alone. However, I did notice that a certain tall, dark and handsome diver wandered off in that direction a few minutes later."

"Really?" Georgia winked at Matt. "Well, then, fancy that."

Matt opened the refrigerator and took out two cans of soda. Handing one to Georgia, he said,
"
Maybe we should take advantage of this beautiful afternoon and sit on the front porch and enjoy the breeze."

"Sounds like a good way to pass some time." Georgia saluted Jody as they passed through the swinging door into the front hall.

"I heard there are crabs for dinner tonight." Matt called back over his shoulder to Jody, who was taking a knife to a large head of cabbage.

"Yep. We're setting up a picnic table in the backyard. Crabs are too messy for the dining room. At least, if they're eaten correctly, they're too messy." Jody laughed. "Brown paper on the table, mallets and paper plates. That's the only way to eat crabs, as far as I'm concerned."

"And lots of cold beer, iced tea, and a big salad." Matt held the front door open for Georgia. "Oh. I just realized that crabs are hardly vegetarian fare."

"That's okay. I'll eat salad."

"That's not very substantial. You need to build up your strength," he told her, "if you plan to watch the rest of that movie with me tonight."

Georgia laughed, then paused on her way to the seating arrangement of wicker furniture at one end of the wide front porch. Two of the chairs that stood opposite each other were occupied by the men they 'd passed in the parking lot.

Georgia smiled and passed between the seated men. Matt greeted them pleasantly and they nodded to him as he walked past them. Taking seats on the settee at the end of the porch and a few feet away
from the other guests, Georgia said, "I wonder where Ally is."

"Probably at a friend's house."

"She was so cute in dancing class this morning," Georgia told him, then proceeded to describe Ally's antics while at the same time trying not to stare at the forearms of the two men who sat only a few feet away, their long thin tattooed swords reaching all the way to the elbow.

A discussion then followed of Georgia's students, who seemed to have true potential as a dancer, who did not. This led Matt to think about his visit to Georgia's garden while she was teaching her class, and he complimented her on her crones. Talking about the crones reminded Matt about his conversation with Laura. And that reminded him that his sister was still down at the beach with a man for whom she professed she had no interest.

Matt turned his wrist to look at his watch. They'd been there for almost an hour already.

"Let's walk down to the beach and see what Laura and this diver are up to."

"Okay. I'm interested in seeing what you think of him. I personally think he's perfect for Laura."

The couple excused themselves as they once again walked between the two men, unaware of the long, dark look exchanged by the strangers, and of the brooding eyes that followed them down the path on their way to the beach.

T
he beach was almost—but not quite—vacant on this Saturday afternoon. A young woman walked her
cocker spaniel up toward the dune. Down near the water's edge three small children searched for sand crabs. An athletic-looking man in his twenties jogged along the beach, and a young mother sat on a sand chair reading a novel, her twin daughters digging a circle around the chair with their hands. Down the beach toward the jetty, Laura and Tucker Moreland sat deep in conversation.

Matt called to his sister from a distance but she did not appear to hear.

"Hmmm," Georgia grinned as she slipped off her shoes and dug her toes into the sand. "It would seem that Tucker has managed to capture Laura's complete and total attention."

"So it would seem," Matt replied as he rolled up his pants legs, then took off his own shoes and, carrying one in each hand, walked toward the water where he tested the foamy wake from the last wave. "Still just a little too cold for my taste. Maybe in another few weeks it'll be warm enough to swim in."

Georgia caught up with him and walked straight ahead into the surf for a few feet. "I don't mind. I like it on the cool side."

They walked up the beach, chasing some small birds that followed the ebb and flow of the sea, hunting for snacks. They were practically on top of Laura before she looked up.

"Oh! You're here already! Hi!" Slightly flustered, she was obviously surprised to see them.

"We've been here for almost an hour now. We were wondering where you were." Georgia said, then greeted Tucker saying, "Hi, Tucker. How've you been?"

"Well, thanks," he nodded, then stood to offer a hand to Matt, introducing himself saying, "You must be Laura's brother. I'm Tucker Moreland."

At six feet four inches, Tucker stood several inches over Matt, who immediately noticed that Tucker was a man who had a firm handshake and a steady gaze.

"Good to meet you," Matt said.

"Tucker was just telling me about the dive he made this morning to the
True Wind
and what he thinks might be down there." Laura pushed back the long sleeve of her shirt to check her watch. "Oh, would you look at the time? I didn't realize it was so late! I need to get back to the inn to give Jody a hand. And I wanted you to look over some table linens with me before dinner, Georgia."

"Sure. I'm ready." Georgia shrugged, trying not to stare at Tucker. She'd forgotten just how handsome he was.
Be still my heart—no wonder Laura's smitten. And she clearly is. Why, just look at her face!

Matt, it appeared, was doing just that.

"Well, then, why don't you go back on up to the inn and take care of business while Tucker and I sit and watch the gulls," Matt told his sister. "It will give us some time to get acquainted."

"Sounds good to me," Tucker sat on the sand and leaned back on his elbows, slid his sunglasses, which rode atop his head, down onto his face.

"We'll see you at dinner,"' Georgia tugged on Lama's arm and winked at Matt.

"But
…
" Laura protested, not sure she liked the idea of her brother sitting in easy interrogation distance to Tucker.

"Go on, Laura," Matt shooed her along with the
wave of his hand. "You have things to do. Tucker and I have birds to watch. We'll be along in a while."

"OK," Laura gathered up her shoes and a ceramic mug from which she drained the last few drops of dark liquid. Glancing warily at her brother, she followed Georgia across the beach to the wooden steps leading up to the sidewalk and back to the inn.

"
D
o you like the pale pink, or the pale green?" Laura held up two different tablecloths for Georgia's inspection. "Or maybe ivory. Which do you think Zoey would prefe
r? Maybe we should ask Delia…"

"Laura, you don't need to confer with us on every detail." Georgia sat down at the dining room table and smoothed a ripple from the creamy white cloth that Laura had placed before her. "And it seems to me you have much more experience with this sort of thing than we do. After all, you do this type of thing all the time here at the inn, don't you?"

"Yes, but this is different. This is for family, and it has to be perfect."

"It will be perfect. Relax. Do you know how many people Delia is having?"

"She said it would be less than thirty."

"Well, then, we could even do three round tables of eight or ten each in the sun room. That would be lovely, with the ivy and wisteria draping over the outside of the windows," Georgia suggested.

"That would be pretty. Let's just go poke in there and see how we might arrange things."

Laura pushed open the French doors leading into the sun room and walked to the middle of the room.

"We could move a few more wicker pieces in and move the upholstered pieces out for the party, and do the entire room in white. White wicker, white linens, white flo
wers. Lilies. Roses. Orchids…"
Laura murmured.

"That's exactly what Mother did for India and Nick's engagement party," Georgia grinned. "Right down to the same flowers. That's uncanny."

"Oh," Laura looked pensive. "Then perhaps we should do something else."

"I think all white would be wonderful in here," Georgia told her. "And we can just consider all white engagement parties a new family tradition. India, Zoey, maybe
someday me… maybe you…
"

"I've had my shot at 'someday,'
" Laura appeared to have focused her attention on refolding the linens.

"Where is it written that you only get one 'shot' at happiness?" Georgia asked. "Who told you that if it doesn't work out the first time, that you never get another chance?"

"It doesn't matter," Laura turned her back, so as to avoid her sister's questioning eyes. She appeared about to add something else, when her attention was drawn to the window, where Matt and Tucker were walking up the drive leisurely, Artie sauntering along between them, Tucker laughing at something Matt was saying.

Georgia watched the faintest flush of color spread across Laura's cheeks, watched her expression soften just a little.

"Laura," Georgia said, "wo
uld I be prying if I asked…
"

"Yes." Laura gathered up the linens and seemed to flee the room. "Yes, you would be."

"
T
his Tucker fellow is all right," Matt said as they drove along a dark and winding country road on their way back to Pumpkin Hill later that night. "He's quite an interesting guy. I really liked him a lot."

Artie having decided to ride shotgun and stick his big head out the window to catch some breeze, Georgia had been forced to take the middle seat. She leaned against Matt, her head on his shoulder, and said, "Well, I wouldn't start calling him 'brother' any time soon."

"Yes, I know. Laura's trying so hard to pretend that she hardly notices him, but yet she can't seem to put together a full, coherent sentence when he's in the room." Matt said thoughtfully.

"I know how she feels," Georgia ran a hand up Matt's arm to his shoulder and added softly, "Only difference is, I admit it."

There was a long moment's silence.

"OK," Matt said, "I want to hear it."

"Hear what?" Georgia yawned.

"I want to hear you admit it."

She leaned closer to his ear. "I am in serious danger of falling head over heels in love with you, Matthew Bishop. And if you play your cards right, I just might be persuaded to watch the rest of that movie with you when we get home tonight."

Matt smiled in the darkness and stepped on the gas.

twenty-three

G
eorgia unlocked the back door of the farmhouse and went into the kitchen, tossing her purse onto the table as she passed by. She was hot and sticky and not happy afte
r having spent the morning look
ing at three possible properties recommended by one of the clerks at Tanner's whose mother was a real estate agent. Feeling somewhat like Goldilocks, Georgia had found the first property too big—the space having once been used as a warehouse for farm equipment—and the second, a long narrow space with a low ceiling and two thin windows that would only get morning sun, too small. The last lacked indoor plumbing. She had not as yet gone through the storefront on Main Street, the agent who had the key being out of town for two more days. Georgia held onto the hope that this last space would prove to be just right.

Sooner or later, she sighed as she pushed the message button on her answering machine, she would have to find that just right place or settle for
something less than ideal. Or move her new dance studio out of O'Hea
rn
, which she did not want to do, for a number of very good reasons.

Starting with you,
she said to the voice on the answering machine.

"
Georgia, hi. It's about noon. I was just wondering how you made out with the realtor this morning, and I wanted to let you know that I got a call back from the architect I contacted last week. He can meet with me at the ba
rn
on Saturday. I told him to come in the afternoon, so that we won't disturb your dance class. We'll talk about all that later, I'll give you call when I get home tonight." Matt paused, and she could almost see that sweet half smile of his. "I miss you. A lot. I think maybe I'll have to drive down there on Wednesday and show you just how much
…
"

Grinning, Georgia saved the message to replay again later, then went upstairs to change into her old clothes. Whistling, she pulled on a pair of faded olive green shorts and a tank top, then wound her hair atop her head before heading out to the field to check her garden. She called Spam several times before the pig appeared, waddling from around the far side of the house, to trail behind Georgia like a faithful pup.

The sun was full overhead of the garden, which was doing quite nicely. The pepper and green bean plants had filled out, the vines—cantaloupe and zucchini—seemed daily to be spreading several feet in all directions, and the tomatoes were covered with small green buds that promised bushels of fruit before the summer had ended. Georgia walked the neat rows, bending down here and there to pull an
unwanted weed or to investigate a blossom or a bug. Everything was thriving, and it gave her great satisfaction.

"I'll have to remember to speak to Matt about fencing against the deer," she said aloud, and Spam, who was busy rooting in
a pile of leaves behind the barn
, looked up momentarily at the sound of her voice before returning to her foraging.

Georgia plunged her hands into the pockets of her shorts and grinned with satisfaction. She'd done a good job here, and she mentally patted herself on the back with pride as she admired her handiwork. Her crones, whom she had come to think of as Agatha, Bertha, Clara, Dora, Edna, and Freda, stood proudly at strategic points around the garden, their house dresses swaying in the occasional breeze. The sight of them brought a smile to her face, and she always made a point of addressing them before she left their company.

"You ladies need gloves," she told them. "White gloves. I'm sure I can find them someplace. No, no, no need to thank me. Consider it a reward for keeping those bothersome birds from the garden. Thanks to you ladies, the carrot seeds grew. Just look at how many have sprouted and sent up those lacy shoots! And I think your presence here has even discouraged the groundhogs and the bunnies. No, ladies, the white gloves are definitely on me."

There was no need to water since it had rained during the night. The storm had been brief but intense, the thunder rattling the old house and wakening her with a start. But Matt had awoken, too, and by the time the storm had passed, they had found
ways to reduce the thunder to little more than background music.

"I miss you, too, Matt," she said softly, her eyes fixed on the wishing tree. "Wednesday can't come soon enough."

She headed back to the house, having decided that the garden needed none of her attention this afternoon. She would spent the rest of the day dancing, setting into movement the joyful recollection of the hours she had spent in Matt's arms, the longing to be with him, the wonder of discovering her love for him.

W
ith the warmer weather, dancing on the second floor of the ba
rn
was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. It hadn't been so bad early in the mo
rn
ing, before the sun had risen too far in the sky and heated things up, but Georgia was finding that later in the day, the air was stuffy and humid and still. There was no cross-ventilation, and years of storing grain and hay had left traces of dust behind that even her careful scrubbing had failed to eliminate. Georgia frowned, trying to imagine what it would be like in July or August when temperatures as well as humidity soared into the nineties. Maybe being forced to look for other quarters was actually a blessing in disguise.

"You're going to need air conditioning in the ba
rn
," she told Matt when he called early in the evening. "It's going to be hot as hell in another month. I'm wondering how many more weeks
I
can run classes before I have to call it off till I find another location. But if you're planning on using that second floor space, it will definitely need air."

"It's going to need heat, too," Matt replied, "so I guess that can all be done at the same time. The architect said he can refer me to a good contractor who will go over the specifications with me and draw up an estimate for me to take to the bank when
I
go in to apply for the construction loan. I shudder to think what all this will cost."

"Oh, but it will be worth it. It will be yours."

"It'll take me forever to pay back the loan."

"But it will be paid off eventually. And you'll be living here, at Pumpkin Hill, exactly the way you always dreamed of doing."

"Well, not exactly the way I dreamed."

"Oh? What's changed?"

"I never realized how incomplete that dream was, until I met you. I never knew how full life could be. Now the clinic is only part of something bigger. It's still a major part of my future, to be sure, but it isn't everything. Being with you, there at Pumpkin Hill,
that's
everything."

"My dreams are different now, too," she whispe
red, "but so much lovelier…
"

Funny,
she thought later after she'd had a late dinner and drained the last sip of tea from her cup,
how things turn out. I came to Pumpkin Hill looking for nothing more than a few months of peace and country air, and just look at all I've found.

A rustle from the back porch drew her attention to the screen door. Spam was peeking into the kitchen, longing written all over her snout. Georgia laughed out loud, then set the cup on the counter before opening the door.

"Are you confused because it's not yet dark, Spammy? The longer hours of daylight must puzzle you," Georgia muttered as she picked up the pig and walked down the steps with Spam in her arms.

Setting the pig down on the grass, Georgia happily inhaled the scent of early summer. The flower bed that ran along the side of the house spilled over with delicate blue columbine and fat buds of daisies not quite ready to bloom. Deep red roses climbed a trellis next to the back door, and tall hollyhocks grew like weeds along the foundation of the house. She realized she was humming, and it occurred to her at that minute that she had never been happier in her life. Somehow it had all come together for her, and she had found pieces of her life she hadn't even realized were missing. Smiling, she turned back to the house, wondering what happy surprise tomorrow might hold.

G
eorgia's all's-right-with-the-world feeling had started to fade by ten o'clock that evening, when she left yet another message on Laura's answering machine, the third of the day. Having discussed Laura's situation with Matt the night before and decided that she would attempt to talk to Laura about Gary, Georgia was anxious to get in touch with her. One ignored message generally meant that Laura hadn't gotten around to ca
lling her back, but three unre
tu
rn
ed calls meant avoidance to Georgia. It being a school night, Laura would be home to put Ally to bed. As far as Georgia was concerned, Laura was choosing not to return the call, not to respond to Georgia's suggestion that they meet for lunch the next day.

"Well, if you think that not calling me back will keep me away, you are mistaken." Georgia muttered as she went up the steps to bed. "I'll call you at seven tomorrow morning, and
if I have to call back every
hour, on the hour, until I catch up with you, I will. But if you think that your family is going to sit by and watch you throw your life away for the sake of some crazy man you don't even
like,
then you are crazier than he is
…
"

I
t was seven-ten when Georgia called Laura's private line at the inn the next morning. When she heard the answering ma
chine pick up, she frowned and
hung up the phone.
Tapping the toes of one foot
impatiently, she dialed the main number for the inn. Jody answered on the third ring.

"Jody, hi. It's Georgia. I'm looking for Laura. Is she around?"

Hesitantly, as if choosing her words carefully, Jody replied, "Laura doesn't seem to be here."

"What does that mean?" When Jody did not respond, Georgia asked, "Jody, is something wrong?"

"I'm not really sure…
"

"Was there something early at school today? Maybe one of those parent breakfasts?"

"Ally and I are having breakfast together this morning. She's right here with me."

Georgia paused, as the significance set in.

"Laura always makes Ally's breakfast."

"That's right." Jody said, forcing calm to avoid frightening the child. "She does."

"Ally hasn't seen her mother this morning." Georgia said flatly.

"
That appears to be the case."

"
Jo
dy, you know Tucker Moreland…"

"
Of course."

"Maybe they went out to watch the sun rise." Georgia's mind raced, seeking any logical explanation for her sister's disappearance. "Maybe
they lost track of the time…"

"Tucker's in the dining room having breakfast with Gordon."

Georgia fought back a rise of panic.

"
Jody, I'm going to give you my number here. Will you give it to Tucker and ask him to call me right back?"

"
Sure."

Georgia waited for Jody to find a pencil and paper to write down the phone number at Pumpkin Hill.

"Tell him I'm waiting by the phone."

"Consider it done."

"And Ally…
?"

"Is fine for now. I'm getting her ready for school."

"
Go tell Tucker."

"I'm on my way."

Georgia paced waiting for the phone to ring, trying to think of a reasonable explanation. There was none. Laura would not
—would never
—go off and leave her daughter. Not ever. Not for any reason.

The phone rang and Georgia jumped in spite of the fact that she was standing next to it in anticipation.

"
I'm sorry to bother you
,"
she began, unaware that her words were tumbling out rapidly,
"
and it's probably nothing, but I was wondering if you had seen Laura."

"Not since last night," he told her. "We sat on the front porch and talked for a while after Ally went to sleep."

"I'm sorry, I'm not t
rying to pry, but when did…
"

"She went in around midnight."

"Tucker, I hate to impose on you, but would you mind walking down to the beach
and just see if Laura is there?
"

"Georgia, what's the problem?"

"Laura wasn't in her apartment to get Ally dressed for school today, and she isn't there for breakfast. She never misses breakfast with her. It doesn't appear that she's any place in the inn, so I though
t
maybe
…
" Georgia had been doing a fairly good job of fighting her anxiety up until this point, but her composure finally began to crack. Her voice quivered as she added, "I'm feeling really uneasy."

"I'll call you back." He hung up the phone and walked out the front door and down the steps, his eyes scanning from side to side as he went toward the beach. Georgia was right, of course. Laura never would leave Ally, even in an emergency, without telling her that she'd be gone and arranging for someone else to be with her.