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"Powell won't be home until late," Antonia said evasively.
"Well,.in that case, I won't wait," the redhead murmured.
"Can I take a message?"
"Yes. Tell him Leslie Holton called to see him," she replied. "I'll, uh, be in
touch, if he asks. And I'm sure he will." Her cold eyes traveled down Antonia's
thin body and back up again with faint contempt. "There's really no
understanding the male mind, is there?" she mused aloud and with a nod,
turned and walked back to her late-model Cadillac.
Antonia watched her get in it and drive away. The woman even drove with
an attitude, haughty and efficient. She wished and wished that the car would
run over four big nails and have all four tires go flat at once. But to her
disappointment, the car glided out of sight without a single wobble.
So that was the widow Holton, who was trying to get her claws into Dawson
Rutherford and Powell. Had she succeeded with Powell? She seemed very
confident. And she was certainly lovely. Obviously he hadn't been serious
about marrying the widow, but had there been something between them?
Antonia found herself feeling uncertain and insecure. She didn't have the
beauty or sophistication to compete with a woman like that. Powell did want
her, certainly, but that woman would know all the tricks of seduction. What if
she and Powell had been lovers? What if they still were? Antonia hadn't been
up to bouts of lovemaking, since that one long night she'd spent with Powell.
Was abstinence making him desperate? He'd teased her about not being able
to go without a woman for long periods of time, and he'd said years, not
weeks. But was he telling the truth or just sparing Antonia's feelings? She had
to find out.
Late that afternoon, another complication presented itself. Julie Ames
came home with Maggie and proceeded to make herself useful, tidying up
Antonia's bedroom and fluffing up her pillows. She'd come in with a bouquet
of flowers, too, and she'd rushed up to hug Antonia at once, all loving concern
and friendliness.
Maggie reacted to this as she always had, by withdrawing, and Antonia
wanted so badly to tell her that Julie didn't mean to hurt her.
"I'll go get a vase," Maggie said miserably, turning.
"I'll bet Julie wouldn't mind doing that," Antonia said, surprising both
girls. "Would you?" she asked Julie. "You could ask Mrs. Bates to find you
one and put water in it."
"I'd be happy to, Mrs. Long!" Julie said enthusiastically, and rushed out to
do as she was asked.
Antonia smiled at Maggie, who was still staring at her in a puzzled way.
"Whose idea was it to pick the flowers?" she asked knowingly.
Maggie flushed. "Well, it was mine, sort of."
"Yes, I thought so. And Julie got the credit, and it hurt."
Maggie was surprised. "Yes," she admitted absently.
"I'm not as dim as you think I am," she told Maggie. "Just try to remember
one thing, will you? You're my daughter. You belong here."
Maggie's heart leaped. She smiled hesitantly.
"Or I'm your stepmother, if you'd rather..."
She moved closer to the bed. "I'd rather call you Mom," she said slowly.
"If... you don't mind."
Antonia smiled gently. "No, Maggie. I don't mind. I'd be very, very flattered.''
Maggie sighed. "My mother didn't want me," she said in a world-weary way.
"I thought it was my fault, that there was something wrong with me."
"There's nothing wrong with you, darling," Antonia said gently. "You're fine
just the way you are."
Maggie fought back tears. "Thanks."
"Something's still wrong, isn't it?" she asked softly. "Can you tell me?"
Maggie looked at her feet. "Julie hugged you."
"I like being hugged."
She looked up. "You do?"
She smiled, nodding.
Maggie hesitated, but Antonia opened her arms, and the child went into
them like a homing pigeon. It was incredible, this warm feeling she got from
being close to people. First her own dad had hugged her, and now Antonia had.
She couldn't remember a time when anyone had wanted to hug her.
She smiled against Antonia's warm shoulder and sighed.
Antonia's arms contracted. "I do like being hugged."
Maggie chortled. "So do I."
Antonia let her go with a smile. "Well, we'll both have to put in some
practice, and your dad will, too. You're very pretty when you smile," she
observed.
"Here's the vase!" Julie said, smiling as she came in with it. She glanced at
Maggie, who was beaming. "Gosh, you look different lately."
"I got new clothes," Maggie said pointedly.
"No. You smile a lot." Julie chuckled. "Jake said you looked like that actress
on his favorite TV show, and he was sort of shocked. Didn't you see him
staring at you in class today?"
"He never!" Maggie exclaimed, embarrassed. "Did he?" she added hopefully.
"He sure did! The other boys teased him. He didn't even get mad. He just
sort of grinned."
Maggie's heart leaped. She looked at Antonia with eyes brimming with joy
and discovery.
Antonia felt that same wonder. She couldn't ever regret marrying Powell,
regardless of how it all ended up. She thought of the widow Holton and grew
cold inside. But she didn't let the girls see it. She only smiled, listening to
their friendly discussion with half an ear, while she wondered what Powell was
going to say when she told him about their early-morning visitor.
He said nothing at all, as it turned out. And that made it worse. He only
watched her through narrowed black eyes when she mentioned it, oh, so
carelessly, as they prepared for bed that night.
"She didn't tell me what she wanted to discuss with you. She said that it
was personal. I told her I'd give you the message. She did say that she'd be in
touch." She peered up at him.
His hard face didn't soften. He searched her eyes, looking for signs of
jealousy, but none were there. She'd given him the bare bones of Leslie's visit
with no emotion at all. Surely if he meant anything to her, it would have
mattered that he was carrying on private, personal discussions with another
woman. And Leslie's name had been linked with his in past years. She must
have known that, too.
"Was that all?" he asked.
She shrugged. "All that I remember." She smiled. "She's a knockout, isn't
she?" she added generously. "Her hair is long and thick and wavy. I've never
seen a human being with hair like that... it's almost alive. Does she model?"
"She was a motion picture actress until the death of her husband. She was
tired of the pace so when she inherited his fortune, she gave it up."
"Isn't it boring for her here, in such a small community?"
"She spends a lot of time chasing Dawson Rutherford."
That was discouraging, for Barrie, anyway. Antonia wondered if Barrie
knew about her stepbrother's contact with the woman. Then she remembered
what her father had said about Dawson.
"Does he like her?" she asked curiously.
"He likes her land," he replied. "We're both trying to get her to sell a tract
that separates his border from mine. Her property has a river running right
through it. If he gets his hands on it, I'll have an ongoing court battle over
water rights, and vice versa."
"So it really is business," she blurted out.
He cocked an eyebrow. "I didn't say that was all it was," he replied softly,
mockingly. "Rutherford is a cold fish with women, and Leslie is, how can I put
it, overstimulated."
Her breath caught in her throat. "How overstimulated is she?" she
demanded suddenly. "And by whom?"
He pursed his lips and toyed with his sleeve. "My past is none of your
concern."
She glared at him and sat upright in the bed. "Are you sleeping with her?"
His eyebrows jumped up. "What?"
"You heard me!" she snapped. "I asked if you were so determined to get that
land that you'd forsake your marriage vows to accomplish it!"
"Is that what you think?" he asked, and he looked vaguely threatening.
"Why else would she come here to the house to see you?" she asked. "And at
a time when she knew you were usually home and Maggie was in school?"
"You're really unsettled about this, aren't you? What did she say to you?"
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