Beauty & the Beasts (6 page)

The silence fairly pulsated. “So I have to come!” Garth burst out. “Nobody cares what I want!” The phone crashed down.

Eric winced and turned his own off. That hadn’t exactly been a success.

He thought back to the boy who had happily spent the summer with him the year before. Garth had been eleven then, but he didn’t look much different than
he had at ten or nine or even eight. He hadn’t yet had a real growing spurt and was being left behind by his classmates, about which he’d become sensitive. He was skinny, thin-faced, his blond hair cut short by his mother. His blue jeans invariably had grass stains or rips at the knees, and he liked T-shirts with funny sayings.

In his school picture, taken last September, he’d looked a little older, but his blue eyes still held the solemn quizzical expression he’d had since he was two. Noreen and Eric used to tease him that his first word was “why?” Unlike some kids, he really wanted to know. His best quality, though, was his empathy. He always thought about other people first. He was the one to worry about the squirrel running across the power line, or the dog down the street whose owner left him chained outside twelve hours a day.

Still brooding, Eric went looking for Hannah. The family room was quiet and still. When he opened the garage door, he heard a scrabbling sound. Poking his head around, he saw her tidily burying something in the kitty litter. Good. She’d found it and knew what it was for.

She hopped out and headed straight for the food bowls, in another part of the big garage. Eric let the door quietly close. Obviously she was comfortable with kitty doors, too.

Garth was a terrific kid, he told himself. Okay, he was nudging adolescence, and he was having a hard time dealing with his mother’s remarriage. It was normal for him to be pretty much fixated on himself
for a few years here. That didn’t mean he’d really changed, not inside where it counted. The boy had been blowing off steam tonight, that was all. Give him a month or two, and he’d accept his mother’s new marriage.

Any lingering uneasiness Eric put down to his own anxiety, which rose like a barometer every year at this time as he worried about whether he and his son could take up where they’d left off. His nervousness invariably vanished the second Garth popped out of the airline passenger tunnel and gave him a grin so incandescent it would have glowed in the dark.

They’d always gotten along great. No reason this summer would be any different.

MADELINE PUSHED
her grocery cart down the petfood aisle. The damage to her budget mostly came here.

Thinking about pet food turned her mind to the shelter and then to Hannah and logically to Eric Bergstrom, DVM. Amazing how often it had worked that way. She’d be embarrassed for anyone to know how frequently she went over their dinner conversation, replaying every glance, the couple of brief touches, his suggestion at the end that they do it again.

Again?
she’d parroted, as if she had no idea what he was talking about. She still blushed, thinking about her gaucheness. It would be amazing after that—especially considering her response to his first invitation—if he really did call.

Of course, she didn’t care that much one way or the other.

“Madeline!” A female voice brought her out of her brooding. The pretty dark-haired woman pushing her own loaded cart wasn’t going to distract her from thoughts of the veterinarian, however; Jess Kerrigan had dated Eric a couple of years ago and was sisterin-law to his partner, Teresa.

“Hi, Jess. I’ve been meaning to call you.” Meeting Eric had made her think about Jess and realize they hadn’t gotten together in a while. “Would you like to have lunch someday?”

“Love to,” her friend said promptly. “How about Tuesday?”

They arranged a time and place. As Jess moved past, Madeline began to select flavors of canned cat food from the shelf and stack them in her basket.

Jess stopped her cart so suddenly toilet paper toppled out. She swore as she bent to pick it up, then apologized. “If I’d been behind the wheel of my car, I’d have probably rear-ended someone. But seeing you just gave me an idea. You guys have kittens right now, don’t you? Steph’s birthday’s coming up and it occurs to me I could get her one. We only have Atlas, you know, and he’s fifteen if he’s a day. Not much fun for the girls. I’m sure he’ll hate a newcomer, but all he does is sleep and eat, anyway.”

“Could I talk you into two?” Madeline asked. “Kittens are so much happier with another one to play with. Especially since they’ll be alone in the day while you guys are in school and working. Raised together, they’ll stay friends all their lives. Besides,
even though it’s Steph’s birthday, this way the girls could each have their own.”

“Thus avoiding squabbles.” Her friend gave her a look. “You’re good at this.”

Madeline widened her eyes innocently. “Finding the right homes for cats?”

“Suckering people into taking one. Or in this case, more than one.”

“They really
are
better off in twos.”

“The grocery store and the vet will be happier, too.” She sighed. “I’ve been trying to talk Teresa into offering a family rate. Doesn’t that seem just?”

“Absolutely.” Careful to sound casual, Madeline said, “I did persuade them to give the shelter a special rate. Dr. Heyer retired. Yesterday Eric came for the grand tour.” She smiled. “He adopted a cat”

“You
are
good,” Jess said admiringly.

Madeline’s grin broadened. “I know.” She laughed. “Actually Hannah managed it on her own. She courted him very affectingly.”

“Smart cat.”

Even more casually Madeline said, “Don’t I remember that you dated him?”

“Uh-huh.” Jess leaned comfortably on her cart. “Two or three times. I think it was too soon after my divorce. He’d smile—you
have
seen him smile?—I’d get goose bumps, and then I have this horrible attack of guilt. It was like I was still married and contemplating an affair. Really strange. Somehow we didn’t hit it off that well, anyhow.” She shrugged. “He’s great with the horses, though. Best equine vet around. And very nice to look at.”

“I’d never met him before.”

Jess grinned. “Let me guess. He asked you out.”

“I said no.” Madeline edged her cart out of the way of a grandfatherly type shopping with two preschoolers. One was singing in a piercing voice. The other stuck out his tongue as he passed.

Jess turned her head to reciprocate as soon as Grandpa’s back was turned. Then, expression unrepentant, she said, “He’s a brat. Steph baby-sits him.” She gave her head a shake. “Did I hear you right? You actually rejected the gorgeous Dr. Bergstrom? You
did
get a good look at him first?”

“Yes and yes.” Madeline hesitated, then confessed, “But I’m weak. He asked again yesterday and I succumbed. We had dinner.”

“And?”

“I had a good time.” How tepid that sounded, she thought in disgust. Should she admit she got goose bumps, too? “He was nice. Not what I expected.”

Surprisingly Jess nodded with apparent satisfaction. “You haven’t dated anyone since I’ve known you.” She made a face. “Not that there are very many single men around who I’d even get in a car alone with. Never mind ones who are glorious, heartstopping, hormone-zapping—”

“I get the idea.”

Jess’s blue eyes were suddenly serious. “Just so you know—he’s kind of a playboy. I mean, don’t bother getting serious.”

“Warning duly noted.” Madeline gave a careless smile. “He may not even call again.”

“Now that he’s set eyes on you?” Her friend patted her arm. “He’ll call.”

She thought about demurely saying that her looks weren’t anything special, but was afraid she’d sound like she was fishing for a compliment. Besides, it would be less than honest; she knew she’d been blessed with great bone structure, flawless skin and eyes and hair that pleased the eye. She could still be modeling if she wanted to. If she hadn’t grown to hate being valued for nothing
but
her cheekbones and skin and eyes.

“Maybe,” she said, and wondered if Eric Bergstrom was capable of seeing beyond those features. Or were they precisely what he, too, valued in a woman?

CHAPTER FOUR

“I’
M HOME
,” Garth called, slamming the front door behind him.

Nobody answered. Had Mom gone somewhere? That’d be surprising; lately she didn’t trust him—her words—to be home alone. Just because she’d caught him lighting up a cigarette in his room. He’d done that because he knew it would make her mad. Why not? At least then she noticed him for a minute or two.

Their San Francisco town house was narrow and tall. The bedrooms were on the third floor. As he bounded up the stairs, he heard voices drifting down. Women’s voices. Mom was in her bedroom with someone else.

Instead of going into his own room, Garth moved quietly down the hall and stopped just outside her door, which stood a few inches ajar. He couldn’t see anything, but he heard a long breathy, “Oooh! Noreen, it’s glorious! Chuck’ll think he’s the luckiest man alive when he sees you coming down the aisle.”

His mother giggled like a junior-high-school girl. “Oh, Frances, I hope so!
I
feel so lucky.”

Garth gagged. So she’d found some guy willing to marry her. What was so lucky about that? Chuck
Morrison had money, but he was balding on top and getting a paunch that hung over his belt—he really, really liked to eat. He took Mom to these fancy restaurants, and the rest of the time she fussed in the kitchen so she could surprise him with some gourmet delight like
blanquette de veau
—which was still eating a big-eyed calf, even if the name was French. Or—get this—squid in ink sauce. Mom had actually sat there in the kitchen on her tall stool, humming under her breath and squishing ink sacs in a sieve and then making a sauce out of it. And she called him picky because he wouldn’t eat it. Chuck, of course, had exclaimed in delight and dug right in. Mom told Garth that she was trying to cook more seafood because she was worried about Chuck’s cholesterol. Big surprise. And she was
lucky
to have him?

“I’m home,” Garth repeated, and pushed the door open.

One of her closets had mirrored doors. Mom stood in front of them in her wedding dress admiring herself. She’d spread it on the bed for him to see a few days before, but on her it was different, not just stiff fabric. Rose-colored—at least, that was what Mom called that dark pink—the dress was really simple and shimmery. Long and straight, it sort of molded to her waist and hips and thighs more than he liked noticing when they were his mother’s. Her best friend, Frances, who Garth used to think was okay until she introduced Mom to Chuckie, sat on the edge of Mom’s bed, her hands clasped in front of her as though she was gazing adoringly at a Monet or a
Picasso. Frances didn’t even turn her head to look at Garth.

Mom didn’t ask how his day was, either. She held out her arms and rotated gracefully on tiptoe. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone. “So, what do you think?”

He would never have admitted it to his friends, but he knew she was beautiful. He’d been proud of her when she picked him up at friends’ houses or went to school functions with him. But he’d never seen her like this. She…glowed. Because of Chuckie.

And because she was ditching her son for the summer so she could be alone with the love of her life. All she’d do was cook. And go to bed with Chuckie, something he didn’t want to think about.

He jerked his shoulders and said in a bored tone, “It’s okay.”

Her face dimmed a little. “Sweetie, I wish—”

“That I’d call Chuck ‘Daddy’?” Garth curled his lip. “I suppose we’re having something gross for dinner?”

“I thought…since it would just be the two of us…”

Chuckie must be busy. Otherwise, she couldn’t have lived without him long enough to have dinner alone with her son. She’d even brought the guy to a school parent night.

Garth gave her a flat stare. “I’m going over to Dave’s.”

“Why don’t we go out to dinner? Your choice.” Her smile was as bright and fake as the gold-painted
poster-board crown he’d worn in a school play. “I’ll pick you up about six?”

“I’m not that hungry.”

Mom’s eyes became steely. “I’ll pick you up, anyway.”

He shrugged and left, throwing his book bag in his bedroom as he passed. Maybe he wouldn’t
be
at Dave’s when she came at six. That’d show her how much he wanted to spend time with “just the two” of them. Like he was supposed to be excited because she might actually talk to him for once, instead of to Chuckie with an occasional vague question his way when she remembered he existed.

He bumped his mountain bike up the basement steps and out the front door. What would happen if he scared his mother enough? Would she call Chuckie and weep in his arms? Or would she be so glad to find him she’d change her mind about shipping him off for the summer?

Garth figured it was worth a try.

A
DOZEN HORSES
, ridden English-style by solemnfaced teenagers, pranced as they waited for the gate to the arena to be opened for their amateur class. Among the shades of cream and dapple gray, the few chestnuts and blood bays stood out Yesterday’s rain had left the ground muddy enough to splatter the gleaming hooves and slender legs of the Arabians.

“Hot dog?”

“Hmm?” Madeline turned from admiring the horses to Eric, who’d paused in front of the concession stand.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, nodding toward it.

She realized that mixed with the smells of manure and sawdust and mud had been the seductive aroma of hot dogs and warm pretzels and mustard.

“I’d love a hot dog. Or even two. And maybe a pretzel. And, um…” She contemplated the offerings. “A licorice rope—I love those, have you ever had one?—and a lemonade.”

He grinned, that slow mischievous smile that twirled her stomach on some kind of internal spit. “And I thought you’d be a cheap date.”

“I warned you I like to eat,” she reminded him.

“So you did.”

As they stood in the short line, the gates opened and out loped a Western class, bits jangling and Stetsons worn low. In went the English horses and riders, numbers pinned crookedly to their backs.