A Rainbow in Paradise (23 page)

Who could blame him
? she pondered as
she glanced at the clock yet again.
He was the town's Golden Boy
and I was the shy, awkward girl who made a fool of herself every
time she spoke or moved. It wasn't exactly a match made in heaven.
Besides, I was a junior when he was a senior, and nobody ever
notices the younger kids.

She'd certainly given him every opportunity
to notice her. She felt her face warming slightly as she remembered
some of those "opportunities" now. There was the time she'd been
sitting in the bleachers watching him compete in the state Class A
wrestling qualifiers, held in Rainbow Rock that year because the
school had won the state title three years in a row. She'd just sat
down with her hot dog and a can of soda when the sophomore boy in
front of her had waved to one of Joe's teammates and smacked her
right in the face—sending ketchup, mustard, and soda spraying in
every direction and showering her in the process. She'd missed
Joe's winning match while she was cleaning up.

Then there had been the sectional basketball
championship. Joe had scored more than sixty points, including the
last-second, three-point shot to win by one as the clock ran out.
She had stood in the bleachers to shout encouragement and had taken
a misstep, catching her toe in the crack and pitching forward.
She'd landed practically in the lap of the senior class clown, who
had made a quick, loud quip about how this was the only way any boy
would ever hold Miss DeForestation. Everyone around them had hooted
with laughter.

There had been hundreds of other
opportunities for Joe to notice her; she had insisted on creating
them. She always checked Joe's class schedule and organized her own
so she would pass him in the hall at least four or five times a
day. She had done so for all of their years in the same school. She
had gone to every game or match he ever played in, unless she had a
conflict where she had to play viola for something. She'd even
pushed herself to qualify for higher math classes, just so she
could be in the same class with Joe—and she hated math.

She'd all but made a nuisance of herself,
following Joe Vanetti around, practically stalking him, hoping he'd
notice her.
It might have worked, too, if I'd been more the
noticeable type,
she reflected. But shy wallflowers weren't
noticeable, and Joe had occupied the rarefied world of sports
awards, scholastic success, and popular people that had simply
never admitted klutzes like her.

Throughout those high school years, there had
been other boys who had interested her—crushes, really—though none
of them had ever noticed her, either. But no one had kept her
interest and brought her back, over and over again, the way Joe had
done. Joseph Martin Vanetti was the one she had always adored from
afar, the dream date she had idolized. What she had felt for him
had been much more like hero worship than puppy love.

And now he's coming here. After all these
years, the first time I bring Joe Vanetti to my house is when he's
looking for an old maid music teacher to tutor his daughter.
Angelica smiled at the irony.

Ah, if only I had the nerve.... But what was
the point in even considering it? She'd never managed the nerve
before now. She pursed her lips and dusted while she waited for Joe
to arrive.

* * * * *

Joe parked his car at the curb and
double-checked the address. Funny, he thought.
I've known
Angelica DeForest for... what? Twenty years? Twenty-five maybe. And
I've never been to her house before.
He recognized the place;
it really hadn't changed much from how he remembered it. He'd first
noticed it when Angelica and her mother had moved in with Old Lady
Lunsford, the woman half the people in town called Grandma Poppy.
Angelica had lived there with her mother and grandmother all
through her junior high and high school years. Then, according to
Cretia, she'd come back to town after finishing her studies at
Northern Arizona University to take care of her aging mother, and
had stayed on alone since her mother's death.
That sounds like a
lonely existence,
Joe thought with a shudder. If there was one
thing Joe knew well, it was loneliness.

Well, time to bell the cat, or maybe the
correct expression here is "face the music."
Joe smiled at his
own pun and wiped his hands on his slacks. He couldn't remember the
last time he'd felt this nervous about meeting anybody. He couldn't
imagine why he still felt so intimidated by Angelica DeForest,
after all these years.

I never really figured out what there was
about her,
Joe pondered as he looked up at the big
house.
She was just always so cool, so aloof, so...
intimidating
. He'd noticed her the first time he ever saw her,
standing in front of Rainbow Rock Junior High School on her first
day of seventh grade. He, the experienced, upper-classman
eighth-grader, had tried to impress her by commenting to some of
the younger students about school procedure. Angelica had regarded
him with her cool, Ice Queen stare and turned her head away, and he
had gulped down the rest of his planned instruction together with
the lump in his throat. With her huge, sky-blue eyes and
waist-length, honey-colored hair, Angelica had always been a
beauty, and Joe had noticed her—plenty.

But it wasn't exactly a match made in
heaven.
Joe sighed. Then he noticed someone moving behind the
front window. Was she waiting for him?
Whew! Better get my act
together. I don't want her scolding me for being late
. Joe
smiled wryly. Even now the thought of Angelica turning that icy
blue stare on him could still give him the willies. No, there had
never been much space for connections between classy Angelica
DeForest and plain ol' Joe. She had occupied the rarefied world of
classical music and formal recitals, and he was the commonest sort
of guy, working his natural athletic ability into the hope of a
scholarship.
Well
, he told himself again,
time to face
the music
. Gathering a deep breath for courage, he strode up
the walk and knocked on the front door of Poppy Lunsford's
oh-so-perfect home.