“Jace? I’m up here, in the attic.”
The last rays of afternoon sun lit the minuscule particles of dust floating lazily in the calm air. And here was Jace, in the doorway, staring. At her. Not at the mess spread around her. Was that happiness in his wonderful green eyes? Happiness at seeing her? Her heart swelled.
Then his expression changed to puzzlement. Slowly, he entered the attic space, sat down on an overturned wooden packing case.
“How was your day?” She was going to sound casual if it killed her.
He didn’t bother answering. Instead, he gestured to the clothes, the suitcases. “What’s all of this?”
“The remains of my former life,” Alice said, her voice dry. “The frills. Or, to be more precise, what’s left of the frills. It’s the first time I’ve dared open up the cases. I was afraid … ”
“Afraid?”
“I thought it might be like opening Pandora’s box.”
He watched her. “What former life?”
“My days in Hollywood. When I was an actress and married to H.B. Bates.”
“The film mogul?”
“That’s the one.”
“Oh.” He looked surprised. “Funny. I’ve been wondering about your past life ever since I met you, but I never imagined you as an actress.”
“It wasn’t a brilliant career. Four films, one of them never released. Some television, which I hated. Quite a lot of live theater, which I loved, and which H.B. hated. He wanted his wife to be seen on the big screen, be seen by millions. It upped his status.”
“It’s a big jump from Hollywood to Blake’s Folly.” He didn’t look impressed by her past. He didn’t look astonished either, Alice noted. Just curious. Which was a relief. It made things easier for her.
“The only jump I felt that I could take,” she said calmly. “Because I chickened out. Got cold feet. All those swimming pools were making me seasick, and I was woozy from living a life where everyone talked obsessively about the tranquilizers they needed so they could stay calm during the day, and the sleeping pills they conked out with at night. Then there was the ocean of booze and, last but not least, the revolving friends.”
“Revolving friends?”
“People you make a point of knowing because they’ve written a zinger of a sitcom. But when the sitcom flops, you can’t see them anymore. No way you’re going to be caught dead lying around their heart-shaped swimming pool, cocktail in hand. Just in case someone sees you and thinks you’re on a losing streak too. Those were the rules, H.B. said.”
“How did you link up with H.B.?”
“I met him when a friend, Cindy, dragged me to a party. She was an actress, determined to make important contacts and break into the big time. I was still a student, just finishing my degree in zoology. H.B. happened to be there. He saw me, liked my looks, and decided he wanted me in his stable.”
“And you? How did you feel?”
“I was young; I was naïve. He overwhelmed me. I hadn’t had much of a childhood and certainly no fun and no glamour. My mother ran away from Blake’s Folly when she was sixteen years old because she was pregnant with me. I never knew who my father was. We ended up in L.A. and half the time we lived on welfare. The other half, she managed to find some man — a loser, usually — to pick up the tab. For a while. Until she died.”
“But you managed to get through college?”
“The first graduate in the family,” she said proudly. “Science always fascinated me, and I worked as a waitress, then got a few modeling jobs, just so I could have money to study and get a degree. I’d been fascinated by reptiles ever since childhood, and I’d always dreamed of being a herpetologist. But, of course, H.B. had other plans for me.”
“Were you happy with him? Ever?”
“Dazzled. But only at first. It wasn’t much of a marriage. We didn’t trust each other. Nobody trusted anyone in our circle. No one had a real conversation with anyone else other than mentioning the new sauna with piped-in music. Life seemed to be nothing more than one big, very banal consumer party. Right from the beginning, H.B. went from one infidelity to another. I was expected to do the same. Fun and games. H.B. suggested I go into therapy so I could adjust to that empty, sad life. A therapist would help file down the edges that didn’t quite fit.”
“You don’t miss acting?”
“Miss it? Never. That life happened to someone else. I wonder how I stood for it for so long. In the end, I thought I’d go crazy if I didn’t start doing something that had meaning for me.”
“So you came out here, to the desert?”
“Not right away.” The old memories welled up again. The horror of her last days in the other life. “Something awful had to happen first. H.B. and his latest had gone away for a wild sex weekend with friends. There was an accident. H.B.’s girlfriend drowned. She was seventeen years old.”
Jace nodded slowly. “Yes, I remember reading something about that. Vaguely. There were drugs involved, weren’t there? Wasn’t H.B. arrested?”
“Temporarily. And in the scandal that followed, I couldn’t make a move without a horde of photographers following me. Every little detail of our life was taken up by the scandal press. It was humiliating.” Alice stopped. Fought back the sadness that the old memories conjured up, and saw that Jace was watching her closely.
“Is there more to the story?” he asked gently.
She nodded. “There is. But I’ve never talked about this.” And she didn’t want to talk about it now either, although she knew she had to. She wanted to confide in Jace, to stop keeping everything secret. She took a deep breath. “There was a baby. A little girl. She was premature. She tried to hold on for as long as she could but she didn’t survive.” The grief was still there too, perhaps because she’d kept silent for so long.
“How did H.B. react to that?”
Alice remembered her bitterness, the feeling of helplessness. “When H.B. first found out I was pregnant, he was furious. I wanted a child, but he never did. He even refused to believe he was the baby’s father because he was so certain I lived by the same moral code as he did.” Alice swallowed. “He was pleased when she died.”
“And then?”
She looked up, squashed down the old feeling of sadness. Replaced it with one of pride. “I finally stood up for myself and for what I wanted. Finally. I left H.B., left our flashy home, our big cars and the life that had made me so miserable for so long. I came out here, to this house my grandparents had left me, then joined the herpetological society in Reno and began reading everything I could about snakes. And when I became knowledgeable enough, I started working as a herpetologist.”
“And H.B.?”
“He left the country for a while. Came back when the scandal had been forgotten, then went on to more suitable wives. I think he’s had two or three since. I’ve managed to stay away from him. He doesn’t know where I am, and I’ve never asked for a penny from him.”
“Why have you always avoided talking about this?” Jace asked, his eyes glinting gently. “Every time I asked you a personal question, you made me feel like I was prying into a deep dark secret.”
She couldn’t help smiling ruefully. “Because my past
was
a deep, dark secret. For me, it was. I don’t want to be associated with that old life and all the unhappiness. I’m not that other Alice, that brainless, beautiful Alice of the past. I’m this one. Also, I didn’t want you identifying me with H.B. He’s so famous and the story was so sordid. So humiliating.”
“And you thought something like that would matter to me?”
“I didn’t know you,” she said defensively. She knew better now, of course. Reaching behind her, she grabbed a large, black photo album. Handed it to him. “Take a look at the other Alice.”
He opened it. There she was with shimmering blond hair tumbling over her shoulders. A perfect Hollywood beauty, the sort of woman who once attracted the powerful H.B. Bates.
He pointed to another photo. “How old were you here?”
Dressed in a skimpy bikini, the former Alice stood by a pink swimming pool, cocktail in hand, laughing into the camera lens. “Around twenty-five.” What else could she add? Jace probably preferred that other woman. “I was pretty then,” she added. It wasn’t a question.
“I like the way you are now.”
“Oh, come on, Jace!”
He closed the album. Frowned. “What are you trying to do? Convince me I don’t know what I like? I prefer the older Alice. The one you are now. The one I’m getting to know. Desert Alice. Snake lady Alice. Alice who’s sitting right in front of me. That other Alice, the young Hollywood version, was beautiful and glamorous. But I don’t know her.”
She stared down at the floor, touched. Took a deep breath. “Well, it’s mighty nice of you to say that.” She suddenly felt so shy.
“I’m not saying it to be nice.”
“That’s nice too.” She was sounding ridiculous. Like a foolish four-year-old. She started laughing. Jace’s laughter joined hers. Tension shattered into a million pieces.
“I’d almost forgotten why I was going through all this stuff in the first place,” she said when she finally caught her breath. “I wanted to find something normal to wear.”
His eyes glinted. “Normal?”
“Normal.” She nodded. “Perfectly normal and perfectly feminine — according to Rose Badger’s idea of womanhood, that is. You see, I was going to ask you out.”
“You were?” He looked very pleased.
“Now, don’t start getting all excited.” She grimaced, swallowed once before continuing. “I’m inviting you to the Blake’s Folly Get-Together.”
He was still looking pleased. “Fine with me!”
“Don’t you want me to tell you what it is?” She doubted he’d look so happy when he knew.
“I don’t care what it is.”
“You’ll be sorry,” she said ominously. “Does that mean you’ll accept the invitation?”
Jace’s smile suddenly vanished, and he looked at her soberly. “There is one major problem. I don’t know if I really ought to accept.”
“Oh.” Why did she feel so damned disappointed? “Why not? Or shouldn’t I ask?” Only when she saw the glint in his eyes did she realize he was about to tease her. Again.
“What’s Brad going to say?” Jace asked. “About you asking me out?”
“Oh. Oh, yes. Brad.”
Hell
. How was she going to get out of this one? What could she say without looking completely ridiculous?
“I mean, Brad is the important man in your life,” Jace continued, his face poker straight. “Shouldn’t you be going to the Get-Together with him?”
Alice took a deep breath. “Oh, don’t worry about Brad.” She waved her left hand, a theatrical gesture of dismissal. “Poor Brad’s got his hands full out at that ranch of his. No time for fun and games with a whole herd of bulls to milk.”
Jace’s burst of laughter permitted them to drop the thorny subject.
• • •
Alice sat on the sagging settee on the veranda, waiting for Jace to get ready. And thinking about how the water in the shower was running over his glorious body at this very moment.
Back down, Alice. Think about something cool and calming
.
She tried. Thoughts about cold nights made her think about how a naked Jace in her bed would warm those nights up very nicely. Forcing herself to concentrate on rattlesnakes had her thinking about the coiling and slithering movements she’d like to be performing on Jace’s body. Thoughts about the dogs led to ideas about how soft their fur was and what it would feel like to touch that rough curl of hair on Jace’s chest.
Hell
. If she didn’t manage to get some semblance of discipline into her thoughts, there was no way she’d be able to hold up her end of a normal conversation tonight.
She didn’t even know if her feelings bordered more on relief or plain lust when he finally appeared in front of her, wet hair curled back into a temporary order, hard muscular legs encased in fresh jeans that did nothing to hide the slenderness of his hips. His dark turtleneck sweater reminded her how tight his belly was.
His eyes were caressing her slowly too. Warmly, probingly. Taking in the soft silk blouse that softened her frame, the billowing skirt that emphasized her waist.
“Ready?” He held his hand out with a smile.
Ready? Oh boy, she was ready, all right. She laced her fingers through his. It certainly was anything but normal to feel the sweet, bright electricity jolt through her as they touched.
We’re only holding hands
,
she chided herself.
Calm down
.
She couldn’t. Her knees felt like damp sponge cake; her head was a high-flying balloon attached by a gossamer thread. Desire, anticipation, these things could make you crazy.
He must have felt the tension as it zinged its way around her body. She felt his eyes on her.
“Is everything all right?”
“Fine. Great!” She wished he would be less polite. That he suddenly felt the urge to maul her. No, turn that one around. She wished that she had the courage to be less ladylike and polite. That
she
could find the nerve to start mauling
him
.
They crossed through Blake’s Folly on foot and, for once, she didn’t notice, or care, how many window curtains twitched as nosy eyes marked their passage. She was proud to be seen walking with Jace. What had changed? She had. She’d finally allowed herself to feel, to be alive. To care. To want.
The Mizpah Hotel loomed in front of them. Square, bulky, built in eighteen seventy-four, it had once been considered a den of perdition where bouts of gambling, wild drinking and womanizing had usually ended in deadly shootouts. And whenever a volley of shots had rung out, residents ducked, held their breaths and waited for the final shot signaling the
coup de grace
.
Times had changed, all right. In the upstairs bedrooms, sagging beds and odd sticks of furniture sat undisturbed under thick pale layers of dust. Only the grand downstairs rooms were still in use, their high ceilings and cornices the pride of all Blake’s Folly. Tonight, those rooms were overheated and filled with people.
The music hit Alice and Jace with force as they pushed open the wide front door. The Old Boy’s Band was in full swing, with Pa Handy torturing an accordion, Tony Grimes poking at a fiddle, Luke Miller violently slapping at a piano and Bill Flats bashing away at something that had, once upon a time, been a snare drum. The resulting noise resembled, only with a great deal of imagination, the “Tennessee Waltz.” It banged around the room aggressively.