Ride the Rainbow Home (16 page)

* * * *

By the time they met on Wednesday, Meg and Kurt had accomplished the early stages of business research. Meg had used up all her cell phone minutes and then had turned to Sally's phone and her own calling card to talk with a dozen past clients, people who promised they'd be interested in video training if it came from her. A realtor friend she'd met at aerobics classes in Walnut Creek assured her that despite the slow market, condos in her area sold quickly, maybe at a higher price than she'd considered. Then Kurt wound the whole matter up by telling her that his friend in Phoenix had decided to retire soon, citing health reasons, and had agreed to sell at a reduced price—assuming he could make the deal soon.

"Do you realize what this means?" he said as they finished their lunch and their reports simultaneously.

"It means that we can do this if we want to," Meg said, realizing for the first time that it wasn't just a pipe dream.

"So the question is—"

"Do we want to?" Meg finished. She looked at her would-be partner. "Do you want to, Kurt?"

"It's exactly what I've been wanting," Kurt said, his eyes serious. "I want to stay close to the family and help Chris when he has a big day on the farm, like Jim does, coming around for the corn harvest and such, but I want to be able to live my own dreams too. This is as close to ideal as I can imagine. There's only one catch."

"And that is?"

"I can't do it alone. I couldn't even attempt it without you, Meg, and I don't want to be guilty of twisting your arm. I don't know how serious things are between you and Jim--"

"Neither do I," Meg admitted honestly.

Kurt took her hand; his look was deadly serious. "I want you to think carefully, Meg. If you sell your condo and commit to this business, it will make a huge difference in your life. I don't want to push you into that unless you're ready. Do you think you could come back to Rainbow Rock, after all these years?"

Meg tried to think through everything this choice entailed—the changes, the move, the closeness to Jim and his family . . . What if things didn't work out between them? Would she be stuck in Rainbow Rock with a struggling business, tied to the McAllisters and unable to make a clean break? "You're right." She sighed deeply and turned her head to look out the window. "This is a huge step, bigger than I feel ready for. Will your friend in Phoenix wait for our decision? I need some time to think it through."

"He will, or then again, maybe he won't." Kurt cradled her hand in both of his. "Either way, don't jump into this unless you're ready."

"Right, Kurt. Thanks. In the meantime, it's still our secret."

"You bet." Kurt's eyes twinkled. "You know, I kind of like keeping secrets from my brother."

Meg answered him with a poke in the ribs.

* * * *

"Again! Swing again!" Tommy squealed, and Jim obliged him, swinging him into the air until the boy erupted in giggles. The past half hour had been a joy. To Meg, who watched in pleasure as Jim set Tommy to giggling again, it felt right. It all felt right—the infant in her arms, the toddler squealing with glee, the company of people she loved, and Jim. The presence of Jim made everything else come together, all the colors of the rainbow joining into one perfect whole.

"Notice how easily he does that?" Sally said from behind her, as if she could read Meg's thoughts. "He's going to be a great dad someday."

Meg sighed. "You're pushing, Sal."

Sally chuckled. "Maybe so, but he does look natural doing that, and I've noticed you noticing, so don't pretend."

Meg's answering look was wistful. "You're right. He looks great."

"You look pretty natural yourself, with that baby in your arms."

"Now, Sally."

"Don't 'now Sally' me. It's only been a couple of weeks since the thought of holding an infant gave you fits. You've come a long way."

Meg laid Serena on her stomach on the picnic blanket. "I guess you're right about that too. I hadn't noticed." She paused. "It's funny when I think about it. Babies still scare me, but Sammy and Serena don't. It's like they're not the same as other children."

"Of course they're not," Sally said, puffed up with maternal pride. Then she touched Meg's arm, her look growing more serious. "The same thing will happen when you have your own. I promise. Even women who don’t especially like other people’s kids usually find a soft spot for their own."

Meg wrinkled her nose in answer.

Jim had brought all the makings for hamburgers and hot dogs. He got the grill going, and then carefully prepared plates to order while Meg and Sally bottle-fed the babies. After they had all eaten, he cleaned up and Meg helped him put the leftover food away, and then the three friends sat down to talk about old times. To her surprise, Meg found herself thinking with nostalgia of memories she had been repressing for years.

Later they took the children home and visited until it was time to put them to bed, then talked on into the evening, until Jim declared it was time for a working man to get some rest. He reminded Meg of their dinner date the next evening before he left.

“I’ll be ready,” she answered, and the words rang in her ears, signaling a kind of readiness that she had never imagined before.

* * * *

She was ready before he arrived, dressed to the nines in a turquoise peasant dress of light cotton gauze and leather sandals. Just before he was due, she took a moment to touch some expensive scene behind her ears and on the backs of her knees. Then she gently lowered her sleeves in an off-the-shoulder look. “A girl’s got to use what’s she got,” she rationalized, wondering if Jim was preparing an equal onslaught for her senses.

He arrived a few minutes later in a white shirt and western-cut jacket, took one look at her, and pulled her sleeves back up on her shoulders. When she stomped her foot playfully, he told her to behave herself. "I don't want to have to defend your honor against half the rednecks in town," he teased.

"And who is it you're really worried about?" she teased back.

But Jim seemed determined to keep the evening light, even dropping her off early at Sally's door. Smarting with disappointment, Meg wanted to confront him, to ask him why he was distancing himself, to lure him into kissing her the way he had at the well. "Jim?" she began as he started down the walk, away from her.

"Hm?" He stopped and turned toward her. The streetlight behind him lit his hair. It drifted and shone around him like a halo. The effect was breathtaking.

"I—" Meg paused. Was there ever a man so beautiful? "Nothing. See you tomorrow."

"Six o'clock." Jim smiled and turned.

Meg watched as his long, measured strides carried him to the truck, then she continued to watch until the truck disappeared around the corner. Why was Jim distancing himself? Was this all just because of what they'd almost shared at the well? Or was he thinking of tomorrow evening? Meg couldn't help but wonder how he'd treat her when they were all together again, back with Danny Sherwood and the old high school in-crowd.

Chapter Eight

The chaos in the Garcia household was worse than ever as the former classmates prepared for their ten-year reunion. Frank and Sally had hired a pair of teenaged sisters from their parish to baby-sit their brood, and the girls—the two eldest children in a family of eight--had come early to feed the mob while the adults dressed. Frank, who seldom wore a tie even to weddings, was fussing about getting it straight and Sally kept complaining about her "bad hair day." Meg, who thought Sally's hair looked about the same as usual, ducked into Isabel's room in the hope of preserving some sanity while she put her look together.

She carefully unwrapped the dress she had chosen to impress her former detractors, the people who had once called her Piggy. No one would see a piggy in this getup! Made of textured raw silk in knock-your-socks-off fuchsia, the dress clung to every curve, its jewel neckline exposing her creamy throat and just a hint of cleavage, its belted waist emphasizing her slimness, its short length showing off shapely legs. The color was dynamite, a good contrast for her sable curls and sky-blue eyes. In this dress, with ivory nylons and pink heels, Meg could take on the world—or even her former classmates in Rainbow Rock. She wondered what Jim would think.

She didn't have to wonder long. The moment she appeared at the door, Jim's eyes widened. "Wow," he said after a moment.

"Thank you," Meg said. "You look pretty good yourself." In fact, Jim looked fantastic. He was dressed in a western-cut suit of dark charcoal gray with a honey-colored silk shirt and a silver-and-turquoise bolo tie. His hair was combed back, long and flowing, and it shone with a golden light that set off the high, clean planes of his face.

"I'll have the most beautiful date there," Jim said, presenting a wrist corsage of white rosebuds.

"No you won't." Meg laughed. "I will!"

A light rain shower sprinkled the valley as they drove up the hill toward the country club where their class had rented the hall. The westering sun struck the misty curtain and broke into prisms of light. "That's the second rainbow I've seen since I've been here," Meg said. "It's gorgeous!"

"It most certainly is," Jim said, but his eyes were on her.

Meg stared longingly at the rainbow, but then stole a glance at Jim, wondering what was going on inside him. He'd probably looked forward to this evening with the same mix of eagerness and anxiety she felt. Meg wondered if he'd ever concocted his own revenge fantasies and who would star in them if he had. Her favorite, of course, was of Danny Sherwood. She imagined him not recognizing her and trying to pick her up. In her favorite version, they were at a bar and he was about three degrees past tipsy on the drunk scale. She was just picking up her drink when he made a crude suggestion and she—

"Meg, we're here." Jim's voice stopped the images just before the drink went upside down on Danny's head. Meg sighed. "Time to face the music, I guess."

Jim nodded. "I feel that way too. But it's probably easier for me. I've been around these folks, or most of them, for the last several years." He held his arm out to her when he opened the door of the truck. When she took it, he covered her hand with his own. His smile was sympathetic. "You can do it, Meg. We're not kids anymore."

"No, we're not." She put on a brave smile. As they walked in, she realized that just being on Jim’s arm gave her greater confidence.

Kim McCray was at the registration table. "Good evening, Kim,'' Jim said as they entered.

"Well, well. Look who's here," Kim said with a wide, false smile. She straightened the back of her neck in a manner that reminded Meg of a swaying cobra. "Nice to see you, Peggy."

"It's Meg," she answered flatly and took the name tag she was handed, which identified her as Margaret Taylor.

Kim's voice dropped into a silky purr. "You too, Jim."

"Thanks." Jim took his name tag and moved quickly on.

Ford Robbins, their class president, was greeting people at the door to the hall. While Jim handed over their tickets, Meg peeked in and saw it was decorated in helium-filled balloons and crepe paper streamers in their old high school colors. "Evening, Ford," Jim said. "How many are

scheduled to show up tonight?"

"We should have twenty-eight of the original forty-six. That's not bad, considering."

"Not bad at all," Jim agreed. "Ford, you remember Meg Taylor."

"Meg?" Ford turned an appreciative gaze on her. "No, I don't..." Then he looked at her name tag. "Peggy! Of course! But I wouldn't have recognized you. My, don't you look wonderful!" He reached as if to embrace her.

"Yes, doesn't she?" Jim said dryly, deftly steering Meg past Ford and into the hall while Meg suppressed a grin.

"You're wicked, you know that?" she whispered as they left a frustrated Ford Robbins in their wake.

"Do you think I'm going to let him get his hands on you?" Jim said in a voice that impressed Meg with its possessiveness.

The first hour went much the same. People recognized Jim quickly; most knew him and saw him frequently in town. No one recognized Meg until they read her name tag. Then men tried to renew old acquaintances that had never existed and women looked daggers at her until she walked away. Jim was experiencing similar reactions in reverse, attracting the attention of every woman in the room. The longer it went on, the more amusing it all became.

"This is fun," Meg said after a while when Jim handed her a cup of punch.

"You're having too good a time," he teased. "You know there's not a man here who wouldn't leave with you if he could."

"Jim, that's not true! Most of the men are with their wives."

"Like I said," Jim began, and Meg poked him in the ribs while he laughed--that deep, throaty sound that always gave her goose bumps.

Dinner was being served at round tables lining the hall and Jim led Meg to a table where Frank and Sally, who had finally escaped from their children, were just finding seats. Bob Greenwood, their class valedictorian, joined them with his wife, Kathy, and the remaining places at their table were taken by Charity Wang and her husband, Rod King. The conversation was pleasant, the crew from the club efficient, the braised chicken delicious. By the time the parfait glasses of chocolate mousse had been cleared away, Meg was actually enjoying herself. Jim seemed more comfortable too.