Flirting With Trouble Page 5

  He moved to the closet, where Fritz was now inspecting a bright red blouse. “Nice stuff here. Quality. Convinces me that she can afford the room fee and the cost of the bike.”

  Brett slapped the man’s hand off the silk garment. “I didn’t even see a credit card.”

  “She planned to pay cash, which I found mighty strange.”

  So did Brett, but he was determined not to show it. Protecting Mandy every step of the way was quickly becoming a habit.

  “Dyed hair, cash-and-carry, all sounds fly-by-night,” Fritz pressed. “Seems only fair I get what’s comin’ to me this very minute—out of your pocket if necessary.”

  Brett snorted. “Fair? You’ll be damn lucky if she doesn’t sue you. Handing out two bald tires on a bobby pin for a spin around town.” He handed Fritz a twenty he had ready in his pocket. “Take this and call it square.”

  Brett went on to collect the garments from the closet, add them to the suitcase and snap it shut. Satisfied he had everything, he hauled the luggage to the door. “Part of the deal is that you keep your suspicions to yourself. I don’t want to hear you crowing about hair color or credit cards—or anything!”

  “What are you gonna do if I talk, take back your twenty?”

  “No, Fritz, the next time you come see me at the clinic all sick and weak, I’ll use your sorry ass for a pin cushion.”

  “Then I’ll go see Doc Graham instead.”

  “Even worse. Jack Graham is still smarting from that worthless marsh land you sold him last spring.” Energized by his slick maneuver, Brett flashed him a wink. “Have a nice night.”

  Chapter Four

  Della Scherer must have heard her own rattletrap station wagon in the driveway. Brett entered the boarding house to find her in the dining room, setting out serving dishes heaped with steaming food to complement the traditional platter of Sunday roast beef.

  “Pour the water, will you, Doc?”

  Brett hadn’t lifted the water pitcher from the sideboard before residents were flowing into the room. His appearance had set in motion Pied Piper magic. People ducked in and around him to reach their chairs as he deftly filled Della’s red cut-glass stemware. The whole table was set with the Scherers’ Sunday best. Rosebud china and the good stainless utensils were neatly arranged on an Irish lace tablecloth.

  Frank Scherer sat at the head of the table. On Frank’s left sat Della. Next were the other two boarders, retired army colonel Geoffery Witherspoon and librarian Beatrice Flaherty. Brett sat directly opposite Frank and to his left sat Tess. The last chair between Tess and Frank, which had been filled by Emmaline Josten, currently sat empty. Brett, as yet, hadn’t given the vacancy much consideration, beyond the rumors swirling ’round Emmaline’s abrupt departure with that unsuitable stranger and what the loss of her rent would mean to the Scherers. But now he couldn’t help envisioning Mandy Smythe seated there, perhaps tapping those lovely fingernails on the table during one of Colonel’s long-winded stories about the Korean War.

  Even now, Brett could almost imagine her faint tap on his arm. Then he rallied enough to realize that real small fingers were dancing near his wrist. It proved to be Tess, watching him with shiny blue eyes.

  “I saw you with Mandy’s suitcases, Daddy. Does she have more pretty things? Like those gold shoes?”

  He recalled some pretty racy lingerie that had been buried in the suitcase, then inventoried the table to make sure no one was homing in on what had to be his dopiest expression. Fortunately, serving up food appeared to be the priority. In fact, Beatrice was about to hand him the platter of meat and it was a welcome distraction. He chose a small slice of beef for Tess and two larger ones for himself. “I’d say Mandy has some very nice things,” he finally replied.

  Tess clapped her hands. “I can’t wait to see!”

  “Now, Tess.” Brett set the platter in the center of the table, aware that everyone had perked up to monitor his parenting skills. Their interest was understandable. Savvy beyond her years, Tess was a handful to all of them—and a rare Fairlane resident who wasn’t particularly intimidated by his revered status. “It’s important that you respect Mandy’s privacy. That means not making yourself at home in her room when she’s out.”

  Tess’s small face furrowed as it always did when she was looking for some loophole. “What about when she’s in, Daddy?”

  “Then you can visit her, of course. Just be sure to knock before you enter.”

  “Hear, hear,” Colonel rumbled. “Ladies learn to knock.”

  Tess gave the old gentleman a charming smile. “Oh, Colonel Geoff, I did knock. You just didn’t hear me.”

  “We won’t speak of it anymore.” Colonel took a jerky sip of water.

  “All I can say is, you sure got a lot of freckles.” Tess giggled innocently, triggering sly titters ’round the table.

  “Mind your manners,” Brett interceded.

  Tess lifted her chin to scan the table. “I would like some fruit. Please.”

  Frank stood up to spoon a blend of grapes and berries onto the child’s plate. “Sure do miss Emmaline on the assembly line between us, Tess.”

  Tess nodded. “She used to cut my meat. In nice neat squares.”

  “So how is your newest boarder doing, Della?” Beatrice asked.

  “Last time I checked she was snoozing comfortably.”

  “Not anymore,” Colonel observed with a smile, gesturing to the arched doorway leading to the foyer.

  Heads jerked to where Mandy Smythe stood, leaning on crutches, dressed in white satin tap pants and top, half covered by a hot pink kimono.

  Brett popped to his feet. “We weren’t expecting to hear from you until tomorrow.”

  “Guess all I needed was a short nap.”

  “As your doctor, I have to disagree.”

  She tapped across the hardwood floor with the aid of her crutches. “Lighten up. I’m not used to being cooped up all by myself in a little room. And I like to stay up late. Enjoy the nightlife.”

  “Isn’t much nightlife around here,” Beatrice complained, her cheery round face clouding. “Unless you fancy a trip to the drugstore.”

  “In any case, I’m feeling much better.”

  Brett moved to her rescue, covertly tying the sash of her robe snugly before guiding her to Emmaline’s old seat. Della went to the sideboard to get another place setting.

  Tess gave Mandy’s hip an affectionate pat as she sank into the chair beside her. There was a silence then as everyone eyed the oddly dressed newcomer.

  She self-consciously raked fingers through her hair. “I probably should have changed my clothes. I only intended to sneak into the kitchen for some juice. But then I heard you all having fun.”

  “It’s perfectly all right,” Frank assured her. “I mean, you’ve been through so much today. Feel free to relax.”

  The silence returned.

  “Well, don’t stop talking on my account!” Mandy said.

  “We were talking all about you, Mandy,” Tess announced. “About how I want to come to your room. About Daddy getting your suitcases.”

  Mandy glanced at Brett. “I saw them in the foyer. Thanks.”

  “I was just going to tell everybody how you should cut my meat instead of Emmaline.”

  “In nice neat squares,” Frank added.

  “So you’re the star of this house, little one,” Mandy observed.

  “Yes,” Tess was quick to confirm.

  Mandy sighed. “Well, I usually get top billing wherever I go.”

  By now Della had not only equipped her with silverware but had also scooped generous helpings of steaming food onto her plate.

  Mandy gave her plate a wary look. “I’m not accustomed to eating this much.”

  “That’s obvious, by your waistline,” Brett said. “But you’re bound to be weak and need to build up.”

  “Well, if it’s doctor’s orders, I better obey.”

  That settled, Della glanced down at Tess. “Shall I cut your
meat just this time?”

  “No, Mandy can do it.”

  She reached over to oblige.

  Tess was right on her. “Remember that I’m going to school tomorrow? Afternoon kindergarten.”

  “Fun stuff, kid.” Mandy settled back in her chair and took a large forkful of mashed potatoes to her mouth. “Wow, this is delicious!” For a brief intense spell she seemed to slip into her own ravenous zone, jamming food into her mouth.

  “I got a list of supplies in the mail. Crayons, glue. Oh, I love to glue things.”

  “These rolls are superb. May I have another?” Mandy asked.

  Della was surprised but extremely pleased. “Certainly.”

  “You must see my backpack, Mandy,” Tess persisted.

  “Think I’ll try one with butter. Pass me that butter dish.”

  Tess carefully lifted the cut-glass dish holding the margarine stick before Brett could intercept it. “I’ll be happy to see your suitcase, too, Mandy. Very happy.”

  Brett was sure the distracted young woman hadn’t heard a word uttered since the fork hit her lips. “Tess,” he said, “Mandy knows your teacher.”

  Tess tugged on the pink sleeve of Mandy’s kimono. “Daddy says you know my teacher!”

  Cheeks ballooned with green beans, Mandy stared blankly at Brett.

  “I’m talking about Ivy, of course.”

  She swallowed with a choking sound. “Ivy!”

  “Miss Waterman,” Tess corrected. “I can’t call her Ivy at school. I have to call her Miss Waterman.”

  “You didn’t know she’s Fairlane’s kindergarten teacher?” Della demanded.

  “Well.” Mandy expelled a slow breath. “I guess I assumed she’d be teaching older kids. That’s it, you see. Kindergartners are so…small.” Smiling, she helped herself to some pickles off a relish tray.

  “Then you two haven’t kept in constant contact?”

  “There’s been a bit of a gap. We’re old college pals—roommates. Seemed high time we reconnected. So I decided to drop in on her.”

  By bus. Toting a case of designer clothing. With newly colored hair. Brett’s frown deepened as she lifted her water glass to her mouth with a movement as jerky as Colonel Geoff’s had been in the spotlight.

  “Speaking of Ivy,” Frank intervened, “she called a while back asking after you. Heard your leg fell off. Naturally, I set her straight about the sprain, told her you were safely tucked in for the night. She was busy with lesson plans anyway and will drop ’round tomorrow morning.”

  “What’s your profession, Mandy?” Beatrice asked.

  “I’m a writer,” she replied before clamping her mouth shut for the first time since sitting down.

  Brett couldn’t help but feel she regretted speaking. “What sort of writing?” he asked.

  “Why, ah, fiction.”

  “You sure?”

  Her vivid green eyes narrowed at Brett. “I’m not sure what to say about it, as I am just starting a novel. In fact,” she said with growing confidence, “that’s why I’ve come to your little town. I want peace and quiet to concentrate.”

  “So the place you’re from isn’t quiet?”

  She appeared to hesitate again. “New York City.”

  “All this is so exciting!” Beatrice enthused. “I’ve never known a serious writer before. Certainly no one published. I am well read as Fairlane’s head librarian, Mandy. I adore tending to the town’s books. You must come and give a book talk.”

  “She hasn’t published anything yet,” Brett objected.

  “I have written things,” she rebutted with pride. “I respect my own work.”

  “So you must do something else to make a living,” he pressed.

  “Well, sure,” she said. “I have quite a history of making a living doing other things. Office work, even a little teaching, like Ivy. But writing is my main passion,” she said with more force. “I am determined to give this book my best shot or die trying.”

  “She must have a wealth of angst behind her already, Doc,” Beatrice said. “From New York City, where good writers surely know how to suffer, with all that crime and smog and traffic and strong little coffees. Good as published, I say.”

  “What’s your book about?” Della asked.

  “It’s…It’s about a very misunderstood big-city girl. People have cheated her, lied to her. But she is determined to rise above it all.”

  “Gripping stuff,” Brett teased.

  “Surely you’ll throw in a bit of the old s-e-x,” Beatrice chittered.

  “Miss Flaherty!” Brett chastised.

  “Oh, relax. Tess dashed off two minutes ago. No doubt to get that backpack of hers.”

  Brett sighed in relief, then with humor tried to make up for pouncing on the librarian. “Still, we must be concerned about Colonel’s delicate ears.”

  The old man snapped to attention. “I am not delicate. I just don’t care to have my freckles discussed in mixed company.”

  “Perhaps it’s best to call freckles beauty spots in a romantic novel,” Della declared. “What do you think, Mandy?”

  “I think I agree. May I please have some more potatoes and gravy?”

  “HEY, MANDY SMYTHE, snap out of it!”

  Amanda opened her eyes to find Ivy Waterman standing beside her bed with a breakfast tray laden with food. Her old friend’s black hair was clipped shorter than Mandy remembered, but her stunning smile was the same.

  “Ivy Divey! What time is it?”

  “Six o’clock.”

  Amanda struggled to sit up. “In the morning?”

  “Turnabout is fair play. You roused me last week with a wakeup call. Now I’m returning the favor.” Ivy set the tray on Amanda’s lap and leaned over the bed to give her a huge hug. “It has been too long, hon. But leave it to you to arrive in town with a bang.”

  “My entrance was hardly the incognito one I’d planned, crashing on that bike. I must’ve looked a fool, laid out on the grass.”

  Ivy stood beside the bed with hands on hips and a smirk. “Yes, calling for Doc Handsome.”

  “I can’t believe I said that out loud.” Amanda rubbed her temples.

  “Your every word and action has been recorded for posterity.”

  Amanda shifted on the bed and winced a little.

  “How are the bruises?”

  “Not bad. Even the leg feels decent.” She flipped the covers aside to reveal her Ace-bandaged ankle. “The doc says I’ll be light on my feet again in a week.”

  Ivy glanced around the pretty room. “As usual, you seem to have come in for a cozy landing.”

  “No thanks to you. Why didn’t you tell me about this place—in the first place?”

  “I didn’t hear about Emmaline Josten’s passing until after we spoke. But even if I had, I would have hesitated in hooking you up here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this is a quiet household, where people take naps and strolls after meals, watch a little television until bedtime. Somehow it didn’t seem a fit for you.”

  “It is pretty tame. Ended up playing a card game called Old Maid for a couple hours last night after dinner.”

  Ivy jabbed a finger at her with glee. “You played a children’s card game?”

  “Brett and Colonel Geoff did, too. Apparently the game is a favorite of Tess’s. It’s all a lark to her, of course. She has no idea what it feels like to actually worry about ending up an old maid in real life!”

  “Hold on to that thought.” Ivy put a finger to her lips then scooted across the room to close the door firmly and set the lock.

  Amanda gave her the thumbs-up. “Good idea. Passing along gossip appears to be an Olympic sport here in Fairlane.”

  Ivy returned to the bed, sitting gingerly on the mattress close to the tray. “As if you should complain, penning that gossip column for the Manhattan Monitor.”

  “It’s celebrity news,” Amanda corrected crisply. “So you’ve seen my column then?”

  “T
he bookstores in Portland carry the Monitor, so yes, I’ve managed to keep up.” Ivy picked up one of the two steaming coffee mugs on the tray. “You may as well eat while it’s warm.”

  “Oh, no. Della Scherer lured me into temptation last night with a feast. I can’t bear to think of the calories. Toast and coffee are all I deserve today.”

  “Della will expect a clean plate, so I better help you out. Go ahead and rant while I eat. You’re expecting to be an old maid now?”

  “Could be at the rate I’m going.” Amanda watched her old friend tear into some scrambled eggs.

  “So the trouble with your dad has something to do with your love life.”

  Amanda nodded, then sipped her coffee. “Dad finally crossed the line of decency by setting me up with a husband.”

  Ivy wasn’t particularly shocked. “He’s always been a tyrant making power plays. Like my own father.”

  “Yes. We’ve both learned how best to deal with that kind of relationship. Gleaning perks while settling for the harsher realities.”

  Ivy’s eyes twinkled. “Getting at least some satisfaction by staging attention-grabbing antics.”

  “Do you remember the time we impersonated Swiss dignitaries to crash that garden party at Liz Taylor’s?”

  “Our accents were awful!” Ivy doubled over with laughter. “Your father had to fly to California to bail us out of jail!”

  “He didn’t have to come himself, he could’ve sent a lawyer. Truth was, he wanted to meet Liz and hoped to do so by offering an apology on our behalf. In the end they became great friends.”

  “Remember the time we got lost in Italy and my father had to organize a search party to comb the countryside?”

  “Found us just as we were getting cozy with those adorable vintners. Your father got some very choice cases of wine out of that one.” Amanda grew pensive. “You know, even when we tried our best to cause them static, they always seemed to walk away winners.”

  Ivy shrugged. “Just the same, I guess it’s no mystery why at age twenty-six, Lowell would want you out of circulation permanently, be anxious to help the cause with some matchmaking.”

  “I understand that he longs for a son-in-law, descendants. But tricking me to get those things is unforgivable. Why, it appears he scavenged his own personnel files for just the right prototype male to lure me in.”