Dorothy Garlock (19 page)

Read Dorothy Garlock Online

Authors: More Than Memory

“Not even at a thousand dollars an acre.”
Earl laughed. “That’s the offer. I’m thinking they’ve been pricing land in Manhattan. There’s one more thing,” he said when she rose to leave. “He said that he would be here sometime between Christmas and the New Year. He said to tell you to be here.”
“He did, did he?” Nelda buttoned her coat up to her neck and pulled on her mittens. “If he thinks that he’s dealing with a sixteen-year-old who quakes each time he looks at her, he’s got a surprise coming. I had planned to be here, but now I’m not sure. I don’t want him coming to the farm. I don’t want to see him.”
“That’s up to you.”
“You may think that I’m unnecessarily hard where my father is concerned. He doesn’t care about me. He cares for himself first, the Marine Corps second, money and social standing third. He ruined my life. His actions caused my grandparents untold grief. I’ll never forgive him.”
Earl took her arm before she passed through the door.
“Don’t let hate eat you up, Nelda. It could destroy you, and he would win. Stand against him and show him that you are a better person than he is. If he sees how much you hate him, he will gloat over it.”
“I know you’re right. Thanks for the advice.”
“I’ll talk to Chief Larsen; he may have a suggestion. And I’ll talk to Halford at the telephone company about the calls. I’ll be in touch with you. By the way, does Lute know about this?”
“No, and I don’t want him to know. It’s none of his business.”
After leaving the lawyer’s office she went directly to Oluf T. Hanson’s store and bought wool socks, heavy underwear, and a pair of heavy wool slacks. She was determined not to be caught unprepared should the power go off again.
At Moeller’s shoe store she bought boots, large enough to accommodate the heavy wool socks, and a pair of fur-lined mittens. Pleased with her purchases, she headed back to the farm.

 

 

C
hapter
E
leven
N
ELDA LOOKED FORWARD TO THE DINNER AT
Rhetta’s.
Kelly was obviously unhappy to be left behind when she closed the door firmly and got into the car at seven o’clock. He must have known something was up when his mistress had taken a leisurely bath, washed her hair, and used big rollers to take out some of the curl. She had held several different outfits up for inspection before finally choosing the blue suit and the peach silk blouse.
Nelda had needed to feel she looked her best—not that she expected Lute to be there, but because this was her first social outing since the end of August, when she had come to north Iowa.
She knew the suit accentuated her small waist, and the luscious peach blouse gave her pale, delicate skin a warm, rosy blush, bringing out the flecks of green in her dark eyes. She carried blue shoes with slender heels to replace the flats she wore to cross the yard to the car. The shoes were shamefully expensive, but whenever she wore them she felt
especially feminine and graceful. Over the suit, she wore a matching blue box coat with a small fur collar.
Nelda arrived at Gary and Rhetta’s just on time. She parked in the driveway alongside a long, low, dark blue Lincoln, put on her heels, and walked up to the door. Rhetta opened it immediately, smiling her greeting, but once Nelda was inside, her mouth turned down at the corners, her expressively mobile face wry.
“Oh, dear! I swear the next friend I pick is going to be fat and so ugly her mama had to tie a pork chop around her neck to get the dog to play with her.”
Nelda found herself relaxed and laughing. “You don’t exactly look like a ragamuffin yourself.”
Rhetta slid a hand through Nelda’s arm. “Come, have a drink and meet our crazy friend. He’s divorced, and has kids, but he’s eligible—and fun.”
The man who came toward them with a drink in his hand was slightly taller than Nelda and had dark red hair. Here in the corn country he displayed all the accouterments of New York and Chicago. The shoes on his feet were Italian, and the watch on his wrist had two diamonds on each side of the dial. Experience that went with his forty-odd years showed in his face.
The bright blue eyes unabashedly assessed her and obviously approved of the quality they found in her apparel, as she had found in his. Before Rhetta could make the introductions, he held out his left hand and clasped hers. He raised his glass and toasted her.
“To Nelda,” he saluted. “Will you permit me to ask a stupid question?”
“Why sure. If you don’t expect a clever answer.” Nelda laughed, surprised at how at ease she felt with him.
“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”
Nelda joined in the clichéd words of the question as soon as he was halfway though asking it.
“A place like what?” Rhetta bristled with indignation. “I’ll call Gary and have you thrown out, you city slicker! Are you going to let me make proper introductions, or not?”
“No, darling. We are not. This is Nelda, and I’m Norris, dashing, sophisticated and, by far, the best-looking man here tonight.”
“You’re impossible!” The doorbell rang and Rhetta grinned. “The war is on. I hate to desert you, Nelda, but from now on it’s every woman for herself.”
Norris led Nelda to the bar and made a wry face when she asked for a white wine. After Rhetta introduced the arrivals as Bill and Jean, Norris guided her to the couch and sat down beside her.
“Now my proud beauty, as long as I’m labeled wolf I may as well act the part. What big eyes you have—”
“That’s my line!”
The friendly eyes sparkled. “Tell me about yourself.”
“I was born in a log cabin beside a clear stream.
My pa was a poor woodsman and my ma took in washing.”
His laugh rang out. Nelda decided that she liked him, and during the next few minutes she framed a brief résumé of her life over the past eight years—omitting all mention of her marriage and divorce—making her life sound carefree and happy.
Twenty minutes later the room was awash with voices. Gary had returned from an emergency call and was telling Bill about the Arabian foal he’d delivered.
“I didn’t think the old girl would make it,” he said in a voice that mixed pride and relief.
Another couple arrived—Julie and Tom. She was on the plump side and he had a flattop haircut. The conversation jumped from Arabian horses to firm-bodied pigs versus fat ones for sausage. Nelda was lost in the conversation. She noticed that Norris, who had been focused on her, joined the discussion when a mention was made about the huge, self-propelled machines that foraged up and down the corn rows, turning dry, tattered plants into cash.
“My business,” he whispered to Nelda. “I sell farm machinery.”
“What kind?”
“All kinds.” His eyes twinkled. “That’s why I’m here buttering up the farmers.”
“Makes sense to me.”
Tom and Bill, she learned, were cash grain farmers, who sold beans and saved corn for feed. At present they were working long hours getting in as much fall plowing as possible before snow and the ground
freezes. They pushed hard; and when the equipment failed, they were cross, according to their wives, who added their bit to the conversation.
Nelda listened with envy to the two wives talking as knowledgeably as their husbands about farm activities. She was the outsider here. Norris, for all his sophistication, was at least in at the fringe, since his business was farm-related. Still, she was pleased that the only time he left her side was to fix himself another drink.
She was just about to relax and enjoy herself when Lute appeared in the doorway. A tall dark-haired girl wearing a full skirt and high-heeled shoes was clinging to his arm, the same girl who had been with him at the cafe.
“Hello, everybody. Sorry we’re late. Lute’s been plowing and forgot to quit,” she explained with easy familiarity.
“No harm done.” Rhetta made a strange face. “I was about to pry Gary loose to put the steaks on the grill. Come meet Nelda. I think you know everyone else.”
“’Course I know everyone. Hi, Julie. Hi, Jean,” she said, then nodded to the men, her heavily mascaraed eyes focusing on each one in turn. “How are you, Mr. Smithfield?” she purred.
Although the blood was pounding in her ears, Nelda registered the name. This friendly man couldn’t be the
Smithfield
who manufactured farm equipment? Impossible! Even Chicagoans knew that
Smithfield
was by far the leading name in the industry.
“Nelda, this is Meredith McDaniel, the home economics teacher at the high school.” Rhetta spoke from beside her. “Nelda Hanson, interior decorator, late of Chicago, and now a permanent resident of our fair city, if we can convince her to stay.”
“Hear! Hear!” Norris raised his glass, the others followed his lead.
“Hello, Nelda.” the tall girl looked at her coolly. “You have an unusual name.”
“Maybe so, but I’ve become used to it.” Nelda smiled one of her sweetest smiles.
The girl laughed. “Hanson. Do you spell yours with an
e
or an
o
? People around here are touchy about that.”
“My ancestors were the Hansens with an
e
. But now my name is Hanson with an
o
.”
The girl laughed again, but Nelda knew the battle lines were drawn.
She knows who I am, and she sees me as a threat
. The thought was quickly replaced by another when her eyes shifted to Lute and found his on her, his brows drawn together in a frown. Thank heavens for Norris! How would she get through this evening without him?
The men continued to chat in spurts about the weather, crops, farm subsidies. Lute offered his opinion, too. Twenty minutes passed and Nelda hadn’t added a word to the conversation, while Meredith chimed in constantly, usually to back up some comment of Lute’s.
As her morale deteriorated, Nelda began to plan an escape. Because she was nervous, she had to force herself to get to her feet and walk into the kitchen
in search of Rhetta. At the door she turned and saw that Lute was watching her over the rim of his glass.
“Is there anything I can do?” Nelda spotted Rhetta standing at the oven.
“No, but thanks. I’m trying to thaw out another steak. I didn’t know the all-American girl was coming. Damn that Lute! He could have called me.”
“You mean they’re not a steady twosome?” Nelda kicked herself mentally for asking the question.
“Meredith would like them to be. She’s been after him for a couple of years now.” Rhetta opened the oven door. “Thank goodness. I think this thing is thawed enough now.” The steak she took from the oven was enormous.
“My goodness. You don’t expect each of us to eat something the size of that?”
“Some will, some won’t. What’s left, the boys will eat cold tomorrow. They’re a couple of human garbage cans! Okay, back to the party with you. Gary will have these charred in no time.”
Nelda found herself sitting beside Norris during the meal. It was all very casual: picking up a steak, filling a plate from the buffet, and finding a place to eat. She and Norris shared a small, old-fashioned, marble-topped ice cream table, a relic from a drugstore of long ago. She remarked on the excellent condition of the table.
“Do you like antiques?” he queried.
“Some of them. The ones that work well in contemporary settings.”
“My sentiments exactly. How about helping me decorate my house?”
She laughed. “Just like that?”
“Why not? I’m an up-front guy.” He grinned at her, his handsome face wreathed in smiles. It was a memorable face, the bones large and angular, the dark red hair disheveled in an appealing fashion, the eyes as bright as blue crystals.
Her gaze lifted past his head to where Lute stood, plate in hand, looking for a place to sit. A maverick thought crossed her mind before she could capture it and wrestle it away.
He thinks Norris may be interested in me
.
Good!
She tore her eyes away from Lute.
“Thanks, but if you’re not planning a supper club or a suite of offices, I’m lost,” she explained, looking into Norris’s face. He met her look with smiling eyes.

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