Pretend Mom (12 page)

"Yes, ma'am, I did."

"My Frank would have loved that. He
loved singing."

An hour later, taking a short break,
Dixie tied her hair back with a string from the supply box. She was
still wiping away the perspiration when she spotted Janet and
waved.

Janet hadn't been much of a friend in
school, but right now Dixie felt like reaching out. Janet happened
to be the first young person she encountered since her return. At
least they were close to the same age, Dixie laughed to herself.
Maybe now, they might have more in common.

Janet wasn't hard to notice—and most
men seldom did—with her shiny dark hair, huge brown eyes, and a
figure made for Hollywood.

However, Dixie hadn't seen the rather
reluctant Mike Dalton lagging behind Janet, and once she spotted
him, Janet insisted on greeting Dixie with all smiles.

Talk about leading a bull by the horns,
Dixie thought, smiling to herself. Mike looked about as happy as a
bull in a pen full of other bulls.

Janet tossed her short, thick, black
hair in Mike's face, and smiled at Dixie. "How wonderful to see you
again, Dixie. It's been so long. I've been meaning to come to New
York and visit you, but I've been rather busy."

"Oh, I wish you would sometime, Janet.
It'd be fun having an old friend around."

Obviously surprised by Dixie's warmth,
Janet smiled again. "I'll consider it an invitation
then."

"Great. So, how have you
been?"

"Wonderful. I'm thinking seriously of
going into modeling."

"Really? How exciting for you. I'm sure
you'd do well—you're so tall and thin," Dixie remarked, casting
Mike a quick appraisal. "So, are you here to enjoy the festivities,
or to work?"

"Both, of course."

"Where's Amanda?" Dixie
inquired.

"Aunt Nell has her," Janet answered
before Mike could get a word in edgewise. "She'll keep her busy
most of the day. She's teaching her basket weaving. Aunt Nell's a
great babysitter, isn't she, Mike?"

Mike nodded. "Yeah, great." His eyes
strayed to Dixie in frustration. "But I did promise to show her
around, Janet. There's so much to enjoy out here. She's missing it,
I'm afraid."

"There's plenty of time for that,
later. After all, you don't want to spoil the child, Mike," Janet
scolded lightly.

Again Dixie's heartbeat quickened when
tawny gold eyes searched hers, for understanding and help. But he'd
gotten himself into this mess, so he could get himself out, Dixie
decided.

Dixie couldn't help noticing that Mike
looked good enough to eat. She sighed. She didn't need to get mixed
up with Mike Dalton and his daughter. But deep down, she realized
Amanda had already stolen her heart, and her father could too, if
he were to try.

Janet eyed Dixie, then Mike.

What was left to say to Janet? Dixie
wondered. She had absolutely nothing in common with this airhead
young woman, and she knew it. Janet had always been full of
herself. At least Dixie had made the effort to converse, she
reasoned.

"Well," Dixie shrugged, and went around
them, "it's wonderful to see you again, but it looks as though Mom
could use my help. Would you excuse me?"

It was a cop out and they all knew it,
but she couldn't help it. Just because Mike made himself miserable
was no reason for her to stick around. She did have to admit,
though, that it bothered her standing there watching Mike be
miserable with this lovely, shallow creature. Of course, it served
him right.

Turning back to hand Mrs. Fowler the
tickets and writing down the count, she gave Mike a quick knowing
smile, and hurried off to join Emily at the Pavilion.

This was the first time she'd seen Mike
in public and he had barely spoken. She couldn't help but feel just
a tad sorry for herself. Maybe he'd been putting on some kind of
act around her. Maybe it was because of Kevin. Of course it was.
How foolish to think Mike had any real interest in her.

And where was Kevin? Oh, God, her heart
plummeted; maybe she shouldn't see Kevin at all. He was married,
and she wouldn't interfere in Kevin's life now. Even though a
certain party didn't believe it. It was true. Married men just
didn't appeal to Dixie.

And she didn't need unmarried men like
Mike Dalton, either!

She found Emily setting up a showcase
of homemade novelties for the contest. Among the long list of
entries were Emily's wild plum preserves. Dixie picked the jar up,
examined it as though she knew exactly what she was doing, and
assured Emily she was bound to win.

Bernie was there with Emily, watching
the two of them working together and smiling contritely as though
something were on his mind.

Dixie barely recognized him. His hair
had thinned, and he looked much leaner than before, if that was
possible. However, age hadn't taken the sparkle out of his eyes
when he looked at Emily. Oh, yes, things were definitely heating up
here.

Obviously, Bernie Sanders was in love
with her mom. Dixie marveled at the two of them and how they
exchanged glances. How her mother smiled. Oh, yes, this was
serious.

Loneliness was a bad thing; Dixie knew
that much from experience. She wouldn't wish it on anyone,
especially her mom.

Hesitantly, Bernie joined them. "You
know, I think your mother has a winner this year,
Dixie!"

"I think you're right, Bernie. I've
tried it myself, and I do believe this is the best batch she's ever
made. The color is so pure too. So, look you two, what can I do to
help around here?" Dixie asked.

"As a matter of fact," Bernie winked,
"there's plenty to be done. You came to the right source. I need
someone to log the names in on the register and label signs for
each one. Would you have the time for that much work?"

Dixie smiled and picked the pen from
his jacket pocket. "You just show me where to start."

Bernie nodded and led Dixie off to the
side. Glancing over his shoulder he smiled at Emily. "I'm glad you
had the sense to bring this daughter of yours, Emily."

Dixie caught the affection in his
eyes.

"Dixie," Bernie whispered, "I wanted to
talk to you away from your mother. I know you don't remember me too
well. I don't know if she's told you anything about us or not. But
I want to. I hope you don't think I'm moving in on your mother too
quickly. It's just that, at my age, time can be pretty important.
You can sit around wasting it, if you know what I mean. I'm in love
with her, Dixie. It's as simple as that."

Dixie beamed. "How wonderful for you,
Bernie. How wonderful for Mom. Don't be silly, Bernie, of course I
don't mind. I'm actually very happy for both of you. I guess you
know I want what's best for her. I know how much she loved dad, but
I don't think even he'd want to see her all alone. He's gone, and
he left a big void in her life. Maybe you can fill that
void."

Bernie let out a long held breath. "You
know from the moment I saw you this morning, I had the feeling
you'd react this way, but it's great to be sure. It makes me very
happy to hear you talk like this; very happy."

"I'm glad." Dixie touched his roughened
hand.

"Great, 'cause I aim to pop the
question sometime today."

"Really?" Dixie's eyes lit with
surprise. "Oh, Bernie, that's wonderful.
Congratulations."

Bernie scratched his chin and lifted a
worried face to the wind. "Not yet, Dixie. You were the easy part;
she's going to be the hard part."

Dixie arched a brow, unable to
comprehend Bernie's obstacle. "Why, Bernie, Mom thinks the world of
you. How could she possibly say no?"

Bernie continued to frown, "I know she
does, but it's that nosy, busy-body, Mrs. Butie. She's been putting
ideas into her head about how she should raise the boys first. You
know I've already spoken to them. I couldn't ask for a nicer couple
of kids, really. We could all get on very comfortably. But I'm
afraid I've got a lot of convincing to do where you mother's
concerned."

Dixie looked Bernie over, noting the
nervous way he wiped the sweat from his brow. Poor Bernie. "Don't
worry. I'll talk to her."

"Would you?" His pale blue eyes
sparkled with renewed hope.

With his confidence restored, he showed
Dixie what to do and left her. She sat at a cardboard table working
with the register.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a
couple of women from the auxiliary looking at her. They were
carrying on a conversation and watching her every move. It appeared
she was the center of another gossip session. Oh well, if they only
knew how many times editors had blasted her in her quick move to
the top of the charts.

Suddenly a shadow towered over her,
disturbing her train of thought. When she looked up, she locked
gazes with Mike, a shock, because his gaze penetrated her like a
touch. That was happening a lot lately. She had to stop reacting to
Mike as though every look he gave was meant as a
seduction.

"Something wrong?" she asked, surprised
to see him without Janet.

His face placid, his hand covered her
arm. "I was wondering if you had changed your mind about tonight?"
Mike's tone was husky

"Tonight? Oh, the baseball throw? Now
why should I change my mind, Mike? I want to help out in any way I
can. Mom asked me to do it, and I told her I would. I don't usually
go back on my word. Besides, I think it will be fun."

"I think there's a good example, right
over there," he said, nodding in the direction of the gossiping
women. "Maybe we could put you in the beauty contest,
instead."

She almost choked on her soft drink.
"Me? No thanks. Look, don't worry about me. I can handle it,
really. I'm an old hand at it."

His eyes darkened, almost to
smoldering. "Sweetheart," he looked her right in the eyes as his
voice carried, "I've been worrying about you for too long to stop
now …"

Whether it was his words, or the tone
he used, it captured her full attention. He meant he was worried
about her and his brother. Not her, personally. She had to stop
reading more into their conversations. Still, she squirmed. Her
eyes locked on to his for a moment, then she purposely broke the
contact.

"T…thanks Mike," she barely
uttered.

"Later." He promised and left her as
quickly as he had approached.

The quaint endearment he always used
with her sent a thrill through her. Did he talk that sweet to all
the girls? She never bothered to find out. She had to stop reading
more into his words and actions.

She was mulling over what he'd said
when Mrs. Butie and Amanda stopped by. "You don't waste time do
you? Already trying to steal Janet's fiance?"

Dixie crimsoned, but held her voice
steady. Dressed in her jeans and blue oxford shirt, Dixie felt on
more equal footing today. If anyone had been flirting lately, it
was Mike, not her. "Mrs. Butie I hardly think carrying on a brief
conversation with Mike Dalton is sufficient cause to be accused of
flirting with him. He does have friends in this town, and I'm one
of them. I won't be here long, anyway. Why don't you try gossiping
about someone who might appreciate it?"

"Impudent aren't you? You always were.
Why don't you go back to New York, where you belong? I was talking
about your lewd behavior." She gasped, her chest heaving with
anger. "Janet would never stoop to your level of trickery. Thank
God, Mike knows it."

"Hello, Mandy!" Dixie ignored Mrs.
Butie. "Are you having fun?"

"Hi, I wanna balloon," she
cried.

"Later, dear," Mrs. Butie
said.

Mandy looked as miserable as her father
had earlier. Dixie wished she could help, but Mike was capable of
changing things if he really wanted to.

"You promised." Mandy put her hands on
her hips and pouted.

"Oh, all right." Mrs. Butie took Mandy
by the hand and headed straight for the balloon vendor.

Once she was free of the viper's
tongue, Dixie reflected on the relationship that Mrs. Butie chose
to remind her of. Maybe it was true. Maybe Mike was practically
engaged to Janet. It certainly made sense he hadn't denied it when
the boys said the same thing. But was it really her
concern?

About a quarter to seven that evening,
Dixie wandered toward the baseball throw and found a young man
winding the tickets.

"Hi, I'm Dixie. I believe I'm going to
be working with you tonight." She extended her hand.

The short, stocky young man looked at
her. "Sure. Dad told me. I'm helping him out for a while. Don't you
remember me?" he asked, seeing her puzzled look. "I'm Old Man
Tucker's son."

Of course he was. And it was strange
hearing the son call the father, 'Old Man Tucker'. John Tucker was
an unusual young man. The only resemblance he bore to his father
was the balding head of sandy hair. Even his personality opposed
his father's.

"Why, I'm sorry, I didn't recognize
you."