Paper Moon (23 page)

“Kind of like hanging out around you, huh?” he teased.

Her blush was as comely as her daughter's. Blaine wanted to kiss her, but hesitated, lest he give John any ideas. That would have to wait until later, when the time was right.

A white-jacketed waiter presented them with a special menu of Mexican dishes priced especially for the Edenton tour. In the spirit of tasting the culture, each of them ordered a different dish from the limited menu with a promise to share. Blaine tried the
carne asada,
thin fillets of beef served in a chile sauce. Caroline opted for
mole de
guajolote,
which the waiter pronounced the most ancient of Mexican dishes on record—turkey with mole sauce. Karen chose a compatriot, poached chicken with mole sauce called
pollo en mole poblano.

“Hey, how can we go wrong with mole?” she quipped, handing over the menu to the waiter. “They can only mess chocolate, nuts, chiles, and onions up so much.”

“I think the heartburn has started already,” Caroline confided behind her hand to Blaine.

“I want my chocolate in dessert, not my main course.” Annie chose the Mexican version of stuffed peppers, dipped in an egg batter and fried.

“Where is your sense of adventure, girl?” her mother teased.

“In my heart, not my stomach,” Annie shot back.

“I like mole sauce, but I love peppers stuffed with farmer's cheese.” John ordered a variation of Annie's
chiles rellenos.

While some of the dishes were hotter than others, the sharing and teasing that ensued as the company exchanged portions of their minismorgasbord proved fun and entertaining. Dessert was not quite as exotic, but no less delicious. The flan, Mexican bread pudding, and Mexican cookies with a dip of vanilla ice cream helped offset any remaining heat from the chiles.

In a courtyard below the window, a mariachi band played a mix of dance music and fun songs to involve the audience. John rose as they struck up a slow song and invited Karen to dance. On seeing Annie's deflated look, Blaine spoke up.

“Annie, would you consider cutting the rug with an old codger like me while your mom finishes her dessert?”

“Doing what to the what?”

“Sweetie, that's old-codger lingo for ‘do you wanna dance?'”

Caroline translated.

The sunrise of delight on the teen's face made the risk of an embarrassing denial well worth it. “That would be lovely,” she said, offering her hand like a princess to her courtier.

Blaine escorted Annie down the steps to the dance patio.

Although nervous and awkward at first, after Blaine counted off a few steps with direction, she quickly advanced from her previous experience of rocking from one foot to the other to a two-step.

“You're good,” Annie marveled after Blaine walked and talked her through a turn. “I think this kind of dancing is so beautiful. I mean, there's something to it.”

“My mother made me take lessons, but I appreciate it now.”

“Me too.” Annie was a miniversion of Caroline, except that her shyness tended to cloak her sense of humor and romantic nature.

“Annie, I have a question to ask you.”

“Sure.”

“I . . .” Blaine had it all worked out, exactly what he was going to say, but her expectant look combined with wide-eyed innocence tripped his thoughts.
What if she says no?
“I've really enjoyed meeting you and your mom.”

“I think Mom's enjoyed meeting you, too . . . and I know I have.

This trip has been such a blast.”

“It surely has.” Blaine smiled and looked at the trumpet player now taking a solo. If this were a business proposition, he'd have laid it out by now, fast and to the point.

“So,” Annie said, drawing his attention back to her, “you think we might be doing this more often?” The little devil brandished the same playful look her mother had earlier as he'd squirmed with the neckline issue.

“Would you like to?”

“What's not to like? If we handle this right.”

The warning in her addendum gave Blaine a mental check.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Mom doesn't make up her mind quickly about anything when it comes to me and her business. She's got this
If it ain't
broke, don't fix it
thing, ya know. Like,” she snorted in wonder, “she doesn't even know she's broken.”

Now he understood. “It's a defense mechanism, my dear, called
survival
. You do what you have to do with what you have and make the best of it. I admire her for that. She's raised a good, well-balanced daughter, provided for her, and remains full of life, when some would just become bitter and resentful.”

“I call her success a God thing,” Annie countered. “Her faith has pulled us through some rough times. It's just that Mom deals better with the trials than she does with blessings sometimes. Like—”

She groped for the right words. “Like, except for dishes and cleaning,” she said with a tinge of regret, “it's hard to do stuff for her.

She wants to do all the giving, know what I mean?”

“So you're saying it won't be easy to take care of her, huh?”

“Did I mention stubborn?” Annie asked.

“No, but I'm getting the picture. Time with loved ones is more appreciated than any material gifts.”

“From Mom's lips to yours.”

The little tract he'd gotten at the airport popped up in Blaine's mind, the thing about getting up early, sitting up late—always working to provide for his family, when all they'd wanted was
him
.

Had he made work his escape from the unhappy home it was responsible for? Had the tool he used to build it been the same one that brought it down?

God? Got any answers?

Or was that his answer? Caroline had built her house with faith in her toolbox. He hadn't. He'd resented the trials, yet wanted the blessings. Somewhere along the way, he'd gotten the wrong idea that they were free, like salvation.

“You are wiser than your years, Annie Spencer,” Blaine said in earnest. “I'm glad to have you on my side.”

“So it's a go then? You want to date my mom?”

“If I can pull it off.” Dating was good. Hard for a guy who recognized a good deal and grabbed it off the table before anyone else had the chance, but good. “And I need to talk to Karen—” Blaine hadn't finished before Annie broke away and tapped Karen on the shoulder with more boldness than she'd ever exhibited to date.

“Mind if we cut in?” Without waiting for an answer, she edged John away from Karen.

He chuckled to himself. At least one of them was decisive.

“What's gotten into her?” Karen complained as Blaine claimed her for a partner.

“I think the love bugs are out.”

“Annie and John?” Karen's head pivoted around. “But he's
my
date.”

“Your
date?”

She quickly backtracked. “What I mean is that he likes
me,
not her. I mean, she's his friend and all . . .”

“And you are . . . ?”

“Dad.” Karen glared at him in exasperation. “I
am
sixteen. I am not a little girl. Is it so beyond you that a boy like John could be interested in me?”

“Not at all. But you are my little girl. When you are sixty-six, you will still be my little girl. And I will still want to protect you, as I do now.”

“Protect me. You want me in a convent.”

“No, I want you to be hap—”

“Then leave me—”

“—py and safe.”

“—alone.”

“But maybe I'm going about it the wrong way.”

“What?”

For the first time in ages, Blaine had Karen's complete attention.

“I said, maybe I'm too protective in some ways and not enough in others.” He sighed. “If you'd come with a manual like a car, I'd know exactly what to do, but you didn't. So I'm just trying the best I know how. Obviously, I'm a failure, but that doesn't mean I don't love you more than anything on earth.”

Karen's rebellion softened. “I know you do, Daddy. You just don't understand women.”

“Show me any man who does,” Blaine lamented. “Which is why I've appreciated Caroline's input on this trip.”

“She is so cool. I mean, she doesn't let us get away with everything, but she doesn't stroke out on the little things like you do.”

Stroke out?
The exaggeration pricked at him, but now was not the time to debate the issue.

“A man isn't meant to raise a little girl alone.” Blaine let the words sink in, watching for his daughter's reaction. “All I know is how a guy feels when he sees someone as pretty as you, and it spooks me to know some guy might be feeling that way about my daughter. A woman knows how her daughter will react or what's going through her head. I guess every girl needs a woman's input to keep her father in line.”

Karen gave him a pointed look. “Like Miz C?”

“Maybe.”

Karen's squeal drew the attention of those nearby. “I think you should be dancing with
her,
not me.” Reaching up, she straightened his tie with a motherly tug. “And I think you've just made me one of the happiest girls in the world.”

CHAPTER
17

“You older guys get some rest.” Clad in a new swimsuit, Annie gave Caroline a bear hug and turned to see if Blaine was ready to go to the pool.

Older guys.
Caroline held her tongue but exchanged a glance with Blaine. At Annie's age, she'd have said the same thing.

“Enjoy,” she called out, leaning against the door.

After dinner and playing Prince Charming with her and the girls on the dance floor, Blaine turned to walk the girls toward the pool area in the moonlit pass between the guest villas. It had warmed her heart to watch Annie's awkward nervousness give way to confidence and laughter under Blaine's practiced lead.

And when Caroline was in his arms, more than her heart was warmed.

A dreamy sigh turned into a yawn, giving her second thoughts about Annie's comment. Okay, maybe she
was
an “older guy.” Since the bus would leave early for a tour of some nearby caverns tomorrow morning, she'd best take advantage of the unoccupied bathroom and quiet. A few curlers in her hair tonight, she thought, retreating to the bathroom, would save the curling iron versus blow-dryer competition for the vanity's single electric socket in the morning, while a mint mask would do wonders for the bags beneath her eyes.

Before Caroline could make it to the bathroom, the phone rang.

“Buenas noches
,” she answered.

“It's me, you shoulder-baring hussy,” Dana teased from the other end.

“Got caught, didn't ya?” It served her buddy right, trying to embarrass Caroline in front of her escort.

“He was clueless,” Dana insisted. “But look, if I come over, will you let me borrow your shell necklace for tomorrow? I'm trying to get things in order while the guys are at the pool.”

“Sure.” Caroline turned to the closet where her zippered jewelry bag hung, and took out the piece. “I have it right here. Come on over.”

“I'll be there in a few minutes,” her friend answered, hanging up with a click.

Just enough time to get comfy, Caroline thought, shedding her dress for her nightshirt. At the tiled sink, she gave her face a critical examination. Was that age or fatigue sagging beneath her eyes?

With the tips of her fingers, she tried lifting the skin, and sighed.

“Sweetie, only a skilled scalpel could help these babies,” she said to her reflection.

Part of her wanted to age gracefully, but a more rebellious nature preferred to fight tooth and nail—or face-lift and tummy tuck.

Since she was afraid of needles and her purse trembled at the prospect of a surgeon's bill, Caroline opted for better living through chemistry—the mint green mask she smeared on her face and foam curlers for her perm-shocked locks.

Annie's and Karen's clothes were scattered around the room, so while the mask dried and
lifted,
Caroline straightened up. “I can pick up the panties,” she sang, “toss 'em into the drawer.” Jamming the discarded underwear into the designated dirty clothes hamper in the closet, she turned and kicked the closet door closed. “Till this mom can wash 'em,” she ground out, hands on swinging hips, “so they can wear 'em some more, 'cause I'm a woman, a W—O—M—”

A sharp knock on the entry door cut Caroline off. Grabbing up the necklace and skipping childlike to the door, she cracked it open. “Here you go, dear—”

It wasn't Dana Gearhardt standing in the hallway, but Blaine Madison. In one arm he held a bottle of some sort and in the other, a rose.

But he couldn't possibly be standing here, she reasoned, because he was at the pool.

Oh yes, he is,
her senses insisted,
in the gorgeous flesh.