Peaches in Winter (8 page)

Chapter Nine

The day of Matt’s party dawned snowy. True, it was just a light dusting—a powder-sugar snow—but it continued to fall, as if it would never stop inundating the world.

Seeing it on the ground when he pushed aside the curtain to peer out, Jake scowled horribly. Now he felt even less like leaving his home. In fact, at the sight of it, he wanted to crawl back under his covers and hibernate for the rest of the day.

Then Betty arrived, looking out of breath and pleasantly pink from the cold, with a few snowflakes melting becomingly on her coat and hair. She smiled at him, looking radiant as usual, unselfconscious as she always was when she’d been out of doors. Or when she was cooking.

He loved that about her and wished she could always be like that instead of growing far away and quiet.

Of course, who was he to talk about acting far away and quiet? He certainly had kept her at arm’s length long enough. And it was too late now. How could she ever see him as a romantic interest—the man who had come to love her? He’d been a fool not to realize earlier what he felt. He should’ve tried to show her.

Now, tonight, she would belong to the world—beautiful Betty, shining in the newspapers and in the eyes of all her male admirers. She would have plenty of them.

It would be wrong to try to steal her away now, before she had a chance to meet some men who might—might—be worthy of her.

Besides, what if he told her, and she laughed in his face? Thought he was teasing, perhaps, or—that he was too old and crotchety. He certainly could be a pain sometimes. He was well aware of his flaws and thought Betty probably was by this time, too. After all, she’d borne the brunt of them often enough.

“Hello Jake!” she called, smiling cheerfully. “Did you see the snow? Isn’t it pretty?”

“Hmph,” said Jake, turning away, feeling sour, and old, and sad.
She
was far prettier than the snow! Didn’t she have any idea what it did to him when she smiled that way, with her sweet, sweet smile?

The girl was too innocent, that was all. She needed someone to protect her—someone older, more experienced in the world, like Jake. What she didn’t need was for that protective friend to fall in love with her.

Whichever way he looked at it, it seemed he was in trouble. He wasn’t good enough for her but couldn’t seem to kill these moonstruck, and sometimes frankly jealous, feelings over Betty.

Perhaps, when she moved on and got a better job, or a fiancé to take care of her, he would get over her. It might help, if he didn’t have to see her every day…

His hands tightened on the back of a chair at the thought of days without Betty. A whole lifetime without Betty.

“Jake, what’s wrong?” She sounded perplexed and concerned for him. She walked into the room, watching his face. Jake didn’t scold her about forgetting to take off her boots, even though she was tracking melting snow onto the fancy rug. It just didn’t seem to matter at the moment. He struggled to come up with a convincing lie to cover his grim attitude—and could think of nothing.

“Is it the party, or the snow?” she asked, sympathy shining warm and sweet in her blue eyes.

Jake grasped the offered excuses in relief. “Both. I’m not fond of snow, and you know how I feel about the party.”

She smiled at him and put a hand on his arm. It made him feel warm all over and very glad.

“It’ll be all right!” she promised. “I’ll be there with you, and when we’ve been there a short time, we can slip away. No one will notice.”

That’s what you think…

~*~

But when it came time for the party, Betty was the one who seemed most nervous. She clung to Jake’s arm. “I didn’t know there would be so many people…”

It was nearly dark, with the sun setting so early these days. The flash of cameras made Betty blink, and her arm tightened in Jake’s. He put a hand protectively over hers and patted it. Protective, that’s what he was going to be, not moonstruck. No, sir…

“It’s all right,” he said. “It’s just photographers.”

“Oh, I know but-but what if they get a shot of me? What if—” Then she gave a self-conscious, rather ashamed laugh. “I know I’m being silly. Why would they photograph me?”

“Why indeed?” said Jake quietly. “Come along, my dear, let’s get something to eat before all the good hors d’oeuvres are taken.”

She looked up at him with round eyes. “Why, Jake! You mustn’t call me ‘my dear.’ It sounds like you’re my old uncle back home.” She scrunched up her nose. “You’re not
that
old!”

Jake laughed. He felt better than he had all day. He was not
that
old. Suddenly the party seemed a lot less like an execution and a lot more like fun. He was arriving with the most beautiful girl at the party on his arm. He was out of the house, and enjoying himself, in the winter—and he was not
that
old.

Come what may, at least he had this time with her. This time to cherish and remember and enjoy with Betty, his own Betty, even if she wasn’t for much longer. Soon, she would be the world’s—or at least some better man’s. But for right now, she was the most beautiful girl in the world, and she was still on his arm.

~*~

Betty’s nervousness dimmed when Jake smiled at her and rested his hand on her arm. His smile was awfully nice. He made her feel happy inside, special, like she was the only girl in the world who mattered. It couldn’t be true, of course—not when there were probably so many worldly, sophisticated women who didn’t trip clumsily, or mix up words like employer and employee. Beautiful women who spoke French and wore expensive dresses. But walking up the path with Jake, she took one last, nervous swallow, and none of that seemed to matter.

Tonight, he was with her. She was on the arm of the most wonderful man in the world.

Their breath was visible in the night air as they walked up the path. Jake showed their invitations at the door, and they were ushered in.

Lights swirled around them—clinks of glasses, voices high and low, laughter, talking and mingling. Betty blinked at the brightness of it all. On the walk here, she’d gotten used to the relative darkness, of only having streetlights, headlights, and the stars.

She’d also gotten cold. Now, warmth surrounded her. Even though she almost regretted the walk was over—the walk where she’d had Jake’s undivided attention—now they were here, it was amazing.

“I’ve never been to a big party before,” she admitted, turning to smile at Jake, excited and still a little scared.

He gave her a smile that looked somehow rueful but also encouraging. “You’ll do great.” He took her coat and his own and delivered them to the coat-check girl. She looked nice and was pleasant to him, giving him their slips. Jake smiled back at her and turned to rejoin Betty.

“Hey! Here are two of my
favorite people!” Matt Armstrong arrived, smiling and holding a drink. He took a slurp from it and greeted them, giving Jake a handshake. Somehow that handshake seemed almost like a wrestling match, the way the two of them went at it. Betty supposed that’s the way old friendships were sometimes. At least for men. If she saw an old friend here, she’d give her a big hug, not a rough handshake.

Then the men turned to her, both of them at once. Matt smiled at her, a really dazzling smile, although not as nice as Jake’s, of course. “Can I get you anything? A drink?”

Betty shook her head. “I couldn’t. I’m too nervous, and I don’t do good with alcohol,” she admitted, clutching her little purse in front of her. It matched the dress. She’d washed and curled her hair specially, although it was already curly. Her ears tingled with the warmth of the party, after the cold of walking here. She wore a hat, of course, but it wasn’t the kind that kept her ears warm. It was just for looks.

Matt’s brows rose in surprise. “You don’t drink? Well! That’s no way to enjoy a party.”

“I don’t want to feel sick in my stomach,” said Betty. And she had, that time back home when they all had champagne to toast the New Year. She’d only had a little, too.

“Well! A drink always makes the party go smoother…”

“Matt…” growled Jake, in his warning voice. He moved closer to Betty, as though to protect her. She cast him a grateful look. Even though it was really unnecessary, it was nice to know he cared.

“Oh, well, how about canapés? And you must meet some of my guests. You simply must. You, too, Jake. Mingle. Talk about books. Do whatever it is you authors do!”

From the wicked grin on his face, he was teasing. And from Jake’s inarticulate growl in reply, mingling was not something he enjoyed doing. “Thanks, I’ll stick with you two,” he said, and followed while Matt smoothly led Betty away. Somehow Matt had hold of her arm and was now steering her into the thick of the party.

Betty hoped she would do okay.

~*~

Jake found himself, as usual at these things, bored out of his mind. He snagged a glass of champagne—it was all right, although not excellent—and ate a few fancy little hors d'oeuvres. They weren’t very filling, and they were growing cold already.

He kept glancing over at Betty to be sure she was all right. He knew he couldn’t hang on her like a jealous boyfriend, although he wanted to, but he could at least keep an eye on things. That girl was far too nice and far too vulnerable to be let loose with a bunch of sharks in the room.

To give him credit, Matt seemed to be doing a good job of playing a proper host and looking after a young lady appropriately. He’d stopped trying to push booze on her, although he was still introducing her to everyone, including the eligible young men, and talking to her a lot.

Jake had known he would, had thought he’d steeled himself for it, but it still annoyed him to see Matt flirting with her, smiling broadly and listening to her as if she were the most interesting girl in the room.

Well, she was, of course, so who could blame him?

But sometimes Jake didn’t want to be fair and reasonable. Sometimes he just wanted Betty all for himself and to go ahead and knock Matt’s block off! How dare he try to steal Jake’s girl…?

But that’s the thing, Jake Watterson, she’s not your girl. Get a hold of yourself, man.

He tried to distract himself with the party and remind himself how long he and Matt had been friends, and that, although he sometimes had many irritating qualities, Matt had many good ones, too.

And then he’d eat more of the canapés and wonder why he was eating them. They were growing colder and colder and more and more dreadful. All the good things were gone, and they were down to the dregs, the things no one wanted to eat because they could not quite identify them.

He saw something white he hoped was a scallop, wrapped in something that might once have been bacon. He stared at it uneasily, as several other partygoers bypassed it, and then he bypassed it as well.

He sighed, eying the depleted table. There really was nothing left here worth eating. He might as well go schmooze, the way Matt wanted him to. Perhaps something good would come of this party, although he did hate being a publicity hound.

He went to chat up a reporter.

~*~

Betty sipped her punch, trying not to spill any on her gloves.

It was such a fancy party! Surprisingly, she felt more relaxed than she’d thought she would. Although constantly afraid she’d trip over something, or bang into someone, she was also excited to be here.

There was so much to see, so much that was bright and shiny, and she wondered if she could cook little “or-derves” like the fancy ones served here. That would be something to make for Jake when he needed a snack. Especially those bacon-wrapped things. They were quite good.

“Why, hello Betty. Fancy meeting you here.”

The low voice startled her. She jumped, spilling her drink all down the front of her beautiful dress. Stifling an exclamation of fright and anger, she turned to face—the familiar, scary dark eyes of Mr. Kidd.

He was a big man, intimidating and muscular under his layer of fat, thickest around his middle. He scared her mouth dry, scared her hands shaky, scared her with the predatory gleam in his eyes, as if he were a hawk, and she was a scared little rabbit. Perhaps, to him, she was—just something else to eat. Something to take, and if he could not, then he’d try to ruin her life anyway.

Like Jimmy. Somebody who did as he wished, discarded her, and then tried to take her back whenever he wanted, whenever it was convenient for him.