"Susie has invited me to her house for dinner tomorrow evening. I think she has it in her mind to find a husband for me."
"Susie's a sweet girl and I'm fond of her, but she's something of a featherhead," Sara said bluntly. "She reminds me of my older sister Caroline. She was always running about, trying to arrange other people's lives."
Toni threw Mrs. D an amused glance. "Well, I can't vouch for Aunt Caroline, but Susie doesn't mean to interfere. In fact, I'm looking forward to seeing what sort of man she thinks will suit me. Brent's taken, so that narrows the field considerably, don't you agree?" "I do." Toni's spritelike relative smiled. "But a man as easygoing as Brent would never do for you, Anto-nia. You need a man with spirit, one who's capable of matching that temper of yours. You're a Cartlaigne, my dear, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. We're not known for our meek, submissive ways. In some ways it's a blessing, in others it's a curse."
"So far I've found it to be the latter." Toni sighed as she thought back to the abrupt manner in which she'd terminated her engagement to Steven. Perhaps she'd been too hasty in her decision;
"One must never look back, Antonia. Only fools waste their time crying over what might have been. Consider yourself lucky to have gotten out of an unfortunate situation and concentrate on the future," Sara lectured. "But not too quickly," she added with a smile. "I like having you here. Besides, this place will be yours at my death. You're the last Cartlaigne female."
"Aunt Sara . . . please," Toni said, trying in vain to stop her. "I don't want to even think of such a thing happening."
"But you must think about it, and be prepared to accept your responsibility. This cottage is all that's left to represent the efforts and love of generations of your ancestors. It'll be up to you to see that it's kept up."
Toni fidgeted uncomfortably beneath her aunt's intense gaze. She could have hugged Mrs. D, who chose that moment to speak, then could just as easily have taped shut the dear woman's mouth as she listened to the housekeeper talking about there being someone next door.
This news seemed to please Aunt Sara, who expressed a definite dislike for "that last young man and his flighty wife."
After dinner was over, Toni saw her aunt to her chair in the sitting room while the housekeeper cleared the table.
Once she had Aunt Sara seated in the comfortable chair, Toni was careful to tuck the warm folds of an afghan about her knees and ankles. "Now," she said with a smile as she bent and kissed one softly lined cheek, "that should keep you snug and warm. Are you ready for your sherry?"
"I suppose so, but only half a glass, Antonia," her aunt instructed. "It relaxes me and makes me sleepy."
"That's what it's supposed to do." Toni chuckled as she walked over to a delicately carved rosewood table on which sat a tray holding glasses, as well as a decanter each of sherry, bourbon, and Scotch. She was careful to pour only the requested amount of sherry, thinking, rather amusedly, what a comedown it was for her aunt. Until about four years ago Sara Cart-
laigne's after-dinner toddy had been a neat three fingers of bourbon.
Toni carried the small, stemmed glass over to her aunt, an apologetic expression on her face. "I realize you would rather have the bourbon and I wish I could pve it to you."
"That's one of the many things about you that I love, Antonia." Sara smiled conspiratorially. "You un-derstand me. Your mother—God rest her soul—and Susie have always thought of me as being one step from AA."
"Nonsense," said Toni. "I'd much rather see you enjoying your toddy than having to take some sort of tranquilizer."
The next hour was spent as each evening after dinner had been since Toni's arrival in Natchez. Sara entertained her niece with lively stories of the past. And if Toni had heard the stories numerous times and knew them by heart, she never let on. For to her, her great-aunt was special, and if the small amount of time Aunt Sara spent in reliving her past made her happy, then Toni considered it the most important part of her day.
By the time Mrs. D joined them, however, Aunt Sara was attempting to hide her yawns behind the ace-trimmed handkerchief she always kept handy. Toni and the housekeeper exchanged knowing glances as the stories became slightly less coherent and the voice a little more halting.
When the tiny head finally began to nod, Mrs. D suggested that it was getting late. Aunt Sara immedi-ately agreed. "I think you should go to bed as well, Aatonia," she told her niece. "Late nights can take the acorn out of a young girl's cheeks."
Toni smothered her amusement at this advice as she leaned forward for the peck on her cheek that her aunt doled out nightly. "I won't be far behind you," Toni hedged, then stepped aside and watched the house keeper guide her charge from the room.
As she turned back to the softly glowing coals of the small fire, Toni heard the commanding sound of the grandfather clock in the hallway strike nine times. Bloom in her cheeks or not, there was no way she could go to bed at such an early hour.
She glanced around the high-ceilinged room at the priceless antique furnishings. And though she had a deep sense of love and pride in her surroundings, Toni found herself feeling anxious for the first time since her arrival at Cartlaigne Cottage.
It didn't take her long to pinpoint the source of her uneasiness. It was in the shape and form of the nasty man who had moved next door . . . Christian Barr.
She sat on the sofa and stared moodily at the fire, conjuring up all sorts of unflattering pictures of her new neighbor. Her favorite showed him as an aging Lothario, leering lasciviously at each young girl he en- countered.
I wonder how old he really is? she thought. For in all she'd read and heard about him, his age hadn't been mentioned. At least she couldn't remember if it had. Perhaps he's much younger than he looks, she thought. Men who lived the kind of life Christian Barr was supposed to lead would surely age prematurely, she ' concluded smugly.
Toni shifted restlessly, annoyed with herself for allowing that man to dominate her thoughts. Hadn't she suffered the ultimate humiliation at Steven's hands?
And wasn't Steven a small-time version of Christian Barr?
"Of course he is," she muttered out loud. But the hurt and the anger were still there, still simmering behind the fagade of happiness and well-being she pre-
sented to the public.
It was easy to sit back and say she'd been lucky to rid out about Steven when she had. But as she looked :*ck on that evening when she discovered how little Se love had meant to him, Toni knew it would be a tang time before she would truly get over the pain.
The experience had left her wondering if she could e*er really trust a man again. She had trusted Steven.
She'd thought his love as unshakable as a mountain.
And she'd never been more completely wrong in her life. Perhaps part of the blame was hers, Toni thought .Prior to the accident her relationship with Steven had been fairly casual. She hadn't bothered to delve into emotional makeup because she hadn't been looking for a husband. She was young, happy with her life and the direction in which her career was headed. After the accident, however, she had wanted someone to take care of her, someone strong and kind and understanding. Steven had seemed to offer all the protection she was looking for.
She wondered if he had been aware of her needs and had taken advantage of them
for some reason of his own. His parents had been thrilled at the news of their
engement. Was it possible that they'd been urging him to get married and settle down?
If so, what better choice for a wife than one without any family to interfere
She also recalled his cutting remark during thatstormy exchange on her last day at work. He'd said, in effect, that being Mrs. Steven Crowell should make up for any embarrassment she might have suffered from his seeing Lea Simmons.
"The pompous ass!" Toni softly, exclaimed just as the telephone sounded. The harsh ringing seemed out of place, and after her initial start at the noise, she hurried to answer.
Her quiet "Hello?" was spoken rather breathlessly, considering that she had to run all the way to the kitchen and the only phone her aunt would allow in the house.
"Antonia?" a deep voice boomed in her ear. "This is Christian Barr. Thanks to that damn goat, I've got a roaring headache. I need to see a doctor, but I think it would be wise if someone drove me. Would it be asking too much of you to perform that small neighborly task?"
The combination of hearing his voice and the fact that he was ill threw Toni into a panic. Having decided that he was a thoroughly detestable man, she could just see him causing all sorts of trouble for Aunt Sara.
"I'll be right over," she said hastily.
After replacing the receiver, she stood undecided in the middle of the kitchen. If she were to go in and tell Mrs. D where she was going, Aunt Sara would have to be filled in on all the details. And knowing her aunt as she did, Toni could well imagine the confusion that that would bring about. She finally settled on leaving the housekeeper a note taped to the front of the fridge.
After that small matter was taken care of, she raced to her room where she exchanged the skirt and blouse she was wearing for a pair of jeans and a sweater. She grabbed a jacket and her purse, then retraced her steps to the kitchen and out the back door. As she hurried along the path that ran from the cottage and through the barrier of shrubs and trees to the big house, the only lights Toni could see were the ones in the rooms to the rear. So instead of going around to the imposing front entrance, she made her way up the wide cypress steps of the side gallery to a door that she remembered as opening into a downstairs sitting room.
Just as she reached up to grasp the heavy knocker,the door was wrenched open and a scowling Christian reached for her arm.
"It's about time," he rasped in a rough voice as he pulled her inside, then slammed the door.
"I did have to leave a note for the housekeeper," Toni remarked in a stiff voice, then pulled her arm from his grasp. As she spoke she saw the ugly raised lump over his right eye.
"That . . . that looks pain- ful" she said in a kinder tone.
"Of course it's painful," Christian said tightly. "That damned goat knocked me into a steel water pipe.
Toni's eyes quickly traversed the length and breadth of her patient, her lips tightening with resignation as she prepared herself for a long and trying evening.
Ch ristian was dressed in jeans and a dark pullover and looked mean enough to go bear hunting with a switch.
"Well?" he demanded in a near roar. "Are you going to stare at me all night or are you going to take me to see a doctor?"
Toni met his glaring blue eyes with her own dark
smoldering ones. "I doubt you'll die from being butted in the rear by a goat."
"In case you haven't noticed, it's my head and not my rear that needs attention," Christian said icily.
"Sorry." Toni sighed. "You're acting like such an ass, I got the two confused." She dropped her purse onto a table beside the door, then stepped around him. "Where is the phone?"
"On that desk." Christian nodded toward a massive, heavily carved piece of furniture in one comer of the enormous room, then gave a sharp gasp. Toni swung back around in time to see him holding an un- steady hand to his head.
Oh, Lord! she thought. He really is in pain. Momen-tarily forgetting her distaste for the man, and the fact that his presence was as welcome as the plague, she caught him by one arm and urged him toward a chair.
"Please sit down while I call Brent."
"Who the hell is Brent?"
"My cousin Susie's husband. He's a doctor."
"Well, at least the two of you aren't related by blood." Christian scowled. "I can only hope he hasn't been around you long enough for your disaster-prone ways to have rubbed off on him."
"If you're that concerned," Toni sweetly countered, "I can always go back to my aunt's and let you fend for yourself." She stood directly in front of him, one hand on her hip as she narrowly eyed him. "What's it to be?"
Christian allowed his dark head to drop back against the chair and closed his eyes. "Call your damn cousin. If he kills me, then at least I'll be out of my miserv."
"I should be so lucky," Toni muttered to herself as she turned and walked toward the phone.
"I heard that, Antonia."
"Good for you, Christian," she threw over her shoulder, unperturbed. "At least Billy left your eardrums intact."
Toni dialed her cousin's number, and after a brief coversation Brent agreed to meet them at the emergency room.
The drive to the hospital got under way only after another altercation regarding transportation.
"I prefer to go in my own car," Toni informed Christian as she stared at his black Lincoln. It looked as long as a hearse and would be the very devil to park. "As you can see, it's foggy and I'd really rather not be driving a strange car under these conditions."
"Do you still have the Subaru you were driving in Virginia?" he asked.
"Then we'll take mine," he replied in such a manner to lead Toni to believe he wouldn't change his mind.
"My head already feels as though it's been split in half I have no intention of being jostled to death in that tin can of yours."
Toni refrained from commenting, although she thought that a good brain scrambling might do wonders for his personality.
Fortunately Christian wasn't one of those people who looked for instant death at every curve or expected a spook to jump from behind every tree. And even on the two or three occasions when Toni almost sent him sailing through the windshield, due to the extreme sensitivity of the brakes on the Lincoln, there
was no bark of reproval from him.
By the time she'd completed the drive and was parking at the emergency entrance of the hospital, Toni found herself honestly feeling sorry for the large,silent man beside her.