Razzmatazz-DDL (15 page)

The other man squinted as he surveyed Alex again, and this time Alex felt oddly as if maybe the man was sizing him up correctly. He didn’t like the feeling at all. It was time to leave.

But as he was turning toward the door, the man’s voice stopped him. “If the lady’s special....”

Alex stared through the barred plate glass window at the busy Reno street. Special? That was an understatement. Slowly, against his better judgment, he turned back to the man.

A slow smile creased the man’s jowly features. “I may have just the item. Of course, it’s not your everyday run-of-the-mill wedding ring.” He produced a maroon velvet box and handed it across the counter.

Alex eased the lid open. Inside was a wide band of delicate gold filigree. Not shiny, definitely old, it could stand a good cleaning. He lifted it and found it to be a little heavier and less delicate than it first appeared. The inside of it was smooth, well-worn. This ring had a story behind it, maybe many stories. It tingled in his palm; he felt a flutter of anticipation.

He wanted this ring.

He shrugged, placed it back in the box and set it on the counter. “Definitely used,” he remarked.

“Antique,” the man replied in a tone that revealed he knew he had the advantage.

“It looks like it’d be difficult to size,” Alex added.

“Impossible. Anybody who tried to do anything to this ring would ruin it. Besides, you said the size didn’t matter.”

Not for his original purpose. But he had a hunch, a strong hunch, that this would fit. There was something about this ring that told him it was meant to be on Kennie Sue Led—Carruthers’s finger.

“Seven hundred dollars,” the man stated.

Alex crossed his arms over his chest. “Five hundred. Not a penny more. It’s only going to end up at the bottom of the Truckee.”

“Like I said, mister, what you do with it is your business. Let’s split the difference at six. I’m feeling generous.”

Alex began to stride toward the door.

“Okay, five—but it’s a gift,” the man said quickly.

Alex pulled out his wallet again. “You’ve got a deal.”

“Are you really going to let some dame throw five hundred dollars into the Truckee River?”

“If it suits her,” Alex replied, tucking the small box deep into his pants pocket. Buying the ring was a gamble, start to finish. So, what was new about that? Life’s little gambles were what made his worth living, after all.

“Unless the dame’s crazy as a loon, she’s not gonna want to throw that ring in the river. What if she decides to keep it and it doesn’t fit?”

“You’ve heard of Cinderella’s slipper, I’m sure.”

The man nodded.

“Then you understand.”

~o0o~

Alex waited for the hotel elevator, the ring nestled safely in his fist, deep in his pocket. He’d tossed the box away at the first opportunity so he could feel the textured-filigree rub agreeably against his palm, tingling, warming, radiating warm hope.

His plan was quite simple, after all. He would offer, watch carefully, and if her surprise was more like dismay, he’d stick to the original plan. For the river, Kennie Sue. A symbolic end. Isn’t this what you’ve been itching to do from the start?

But if what he read in her eyes wasn’t dismay or horror at all, if he recognized the same bizarre wistfulness he’d felt from the very beginning...and if the ring fit... well. It would certainly cast a different light on this marriage, wouldn’t it?

A hand closed over his shoulder.

“Alex, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Chris sputtered.

“I’m in a hurry right now, friend.”

“Have you been up to the suite in the past hour or so?”

“No, but I’m on my way now. Why don’t we get together later?”

“It’ll probably be sooner than later,” Chris muttered as the elevator door opened and Alex stepped inside.

“Alex, wait.”

An instant before the two doors closed, Chris shot his hand between them.

Alex let out a short, disgusted sigh as Chris dashed into the elevator.

“I feel pretty guilty about this whole thing with Kennie,” Chris began.

“You have an intriguing way of dealing with guilt,” Alex remarked.

“Well, you can scoff, but I’m well aware that this situation is as much my fault as anybody’s.”

“What are you getting at?”

The doors opened and they stepped into the hall, but Alex caught the door and held it open. “Explain—fast. I’ve some business to attend to that doesn’t require witnesses.”

“I’ll just bet,” Chris muttered, his normally placid features settling into an ominous scowl.

“What is it, Chris?” Alex demanded, tightening his grip on the ring. Kennie was going to love it...or die of embarrassment...or simply be too stunned to react.

“I’m trying to tell you that she’s gone.”

The words fell between them, flat and empty. Alex squeezed until the ring hurt his palm; the elevator door slid closed. “What?”

“She was pretty upset and was determined to get out of here no matter what she had to do.”

Alex’s mind shot frantically ahead. “She can’t have gotten far. We can catch her at the airport—she’ll be stuck there until morning.”

“No, she won’t.” Chris sucked in a deep breath of air and stared at the ceiling. “She’s already in the air.”

“She’s—she’s—Damn.” Alex punched the elevator button. “We can still catch her. We can get to Padu—Tahoka Springs before she does. Call your pilot and—”

“Er, Alex....”

He spun slowly on his heel toward Chris. “You’re not trying to tell me....”

“I’m trying very desperately not to tell you.”

“Tell me,” Alex growled.

“I felt responsible,” Chris insisted. “She didn’t seem capable of thinking very sanely at the moment, and I can take a half-dozen guesses why.” He raised his chin defiantly. “I decided to be the gentleman, since no one else around here seemed inclined to act like one and offer her an avenue of escape. She’s on the Lear.”

“I should break your—”

“What?” Chris bunched his own fists and took a half step forward. “What should you do, friend!”

Alex felt as if he’d just taken a hard punch in the gut. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I think you’re wrong. I think you’ve been wrong from the beginning on this one.”

“Tell me something,” Alex snarled. “How often have you known me to be wrong?”

“This is different,” Chris replied softly. “Kennie Sue Ledbetter is not a commodity to be gambled with.”

“Commodities are your game, not mine, and you know it.”

“They could be yours, too, but that doesn’t make any difference, Alex. This time you went too far.” Chris shook his head. “I’m just sorry that I didn’t do something sooner.”

The elevator opened, and Chris continued. “The pilot’s taking her to Odessa, then returning for us. You’ve got a few hours to cool off, and I hope you’ll understand.” He stepped onto the elevator and was gone.

Alex entered the suite to find it empty of her, except for the lingering scent of citrus.

The drapes were still closed. The bed was still rumpled. The sofa cushion, where her head had been, was still askew. Alex sank onto it; it held none of her warmth, of course. He dug deep into his pocket and pulled out the gold ring.

What had happened? Why had she left so suddenly? Not a word, not a note, no hint to guide him. She had seemed so content when he’d left her, so happy. She’d even threatened to send down for ambrosia punch. She’d said she was getting used to room service and valet service...her fantasy.

He squeezed his eyes shut. What had happened to wake her up from the dream? Whatever it was, he knew his mistake now. He should have never resented being her fantasy. Not when he didn’t have anything real to offer her. Not when sustaining the fantasy was the only way to keep her.

He dug into his pocket. When he pulled his hand out and opened it, the ring and the two-headed coin nestled side by side. He’d had a little help from fate and his own good luck. Now all he needed was time, time to convince her to give their marriage a chance, even if it was only a four-week chance.

He raised the coin with his thumb to flip it. But then he stopped. Carefully he clutched the talismans in his left hand and reached into his pocket again. This time it was an old, weathered nickel he produced.

He believed in luck; he lived by it. What was more fitting than his future lying totally and completely in his belief in good luck?

“Heads, I go after her.”

The nickel sailed into the air.

CHAPTER NINE

“
THIS LITTLE LIGHT o’ mine, I’m gonna let it shine!

This little light o’ mine
—”

It was Wednesday afternoon, four o’clock. Kennie Sue Ledbetter stood, legs wide, fists on her hips, directing the Angel Choir’s dress rehearsal. She had little musical talent, and less patience with the “angels,” who squirmed and wiggled and poked and giggled in front of her. How had she gotten talked into substituting for the minister’s wife?

The dozen young children were dressed in their finery—white robes with large black bows at each neck. But the robes stopped several inches short of the floor, leaving exposed two pairs of sandals, one pair of rubber thongs, two sets of bare feet and seven pairs of tennis shoes that had seen the worst of a long summer.

“R.J., I thought I told you to stand in the middle!” she called from halfway down the center aisle of the church. “You’re too big to be on the end.”

“I’m too dadgummed big to be singin’ in this here sissy choir,” the glowering boy retorted.

“That’s up to your mama and daddy to decide, not me,” Kennie stated flatly. “Now get back in the middle, and this time when y’all sing, I want old Dr. Baldock to be able to hear you even without his hearing aid! Okay, Sarah, from the top.”

For the fifth time the carrot-topped fifteen-year-old pounded out the intro on the old upright piano.

“And don’t forget to smile!” Kennie added in a menacing shout.

“This little light....”

Their voices were strident to the point of screams; their smiles would frighten the staunchest of adversaries. Kennie sighed and sank into a pew.

When they finished, four beats behind the piano, she forced a pleasant tone. “The Ladies Auxiliary has punch for you in the Sunday school room. Be back here—” They scattered before she finished with, “In twenty minutes.”

She dragged herself to her feet and waved at Sarah’s expectant face. “Go get yourself some punch. After break we’ll run through each song one more time, then call it a day.” When Sarah had gone, Kennie pivoted sharply, her shoulders tense, and paced toward a green mottled-glass window.

Seven days.

The first day she’d spent sleeping, the telephone off the hook. That had been a mistake, for night came and sleep didn’t...and so she paced, she fretted, she ached with loneliness.... Where was he? What was he doing? Why did she care?

The next day she spent jumping for the phone, knowing that each call would probably be Alex, wanting to know what was going on. Instead, she heard from half the town. She finally took the phone off the hook again to avoid having to explain again that she’d come back early because Honest Dub’s accommodations had turned out to be for three days instead of five.

On Saturday it occurred to her that Alex might not call at all....

When the phone rang Sunday, she almost didn’t answer. At the sound of a familiar masculine voice, her heart leaped into her throat, then plummeted. It was Chris. He was hoping she knew where Alex was. He hadn’t seen him since they had parted ways in Reno, and Chris really needed to talk to him.

Seven days without a word from Alex Carruthers. She tightened her fists and dug her nails into her palms. She felt like the biggest fool. She didn’t even know how to get in touch with him. She didn’t want to get in touch with him. She wanted to hear his voice.... The frustration that alternately boiled, bubbled and simmered in her veins threatened to erupt again.

The children clattered back up the risers in the front of the sanctuary. She strode toward them, her nerves dangerously on edge. “In your places. Now!” she snapped.

Even R.J. stood stiffly in place, his eyes wary as he watched her take her place in front of them.

“This time I want it pretty, I want it loud, and I want you to smile!” She motioned to Sarah, and the intro began. Kennie raised her hands, and miraculously, they all started together and almost on the same note. One last time, she thought miserably.

“Doc Baldock can’t hear you,” she called, and slowly backed down the aisle, her hands pumping the beat. She passed three more pews. “He can’t understand a word you’re saying, either! E-nun-ci-ate!”

But instead of growing louder, the children’s voices faltered. She searched their faces impatiently as the girls giggled and stared over her shoulder, and R.J. flatly stopped singing altogether. “Stop!” she shouted impatiently. “That’s it!” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m sorry, but that’s it. I mean,” she said, trying to suppress the anger in her voice, “you were all wonderful, but there’s not going to be any more practice today.”

“Look, Mith Kennie Thue.” A tiny girl on the front row pointed a chubby finger toward the back of the church. Several of the older girls giggled, and R.J. jabbed an elbow into the boy next to him.

Puzzled, Kennie spun to find out what early-arriving parent was attracting all the attention.

Her pulse skipped a beat at the sight of Alex Carruthers leaning against the door frame, smiling. “Hello, Miss Kennie Sue.”

His baggy khakis looked absurdly out of place. His open-necked, oversized shirt was white, rolled up at the cuffs, and a pair of aviator sunglasses dangled from his lean, tanned hand. His neck and face were more bronzed than she remembered—freshly sunburned, as a matter of fact.

She tried to speak but couldn’t. She felt a dozen curious gazes burn into her back; Alex’s skewered her from the front.

He straightened and walked toward her.

By the time he reached her side, her left hand was clenched into a tight ball at her side. “What are you doing here?” she asked through gritted teeth.

His gaze darted to her fist, lingered, and a half smile played at the corners of his lips.