High Score (19 page)

“I’m worried about Dickie,” Shelley said. “He still isn’t interested in having sex until after the wedding. What if he’s, you know…”

“Impotent?”

“He could be. How would I know?” Shelley handed Rita a cup of tea, took the other for herself. “It will be a bit late, won’t it, finding out after the wedding that he can’t get it up?”

Rita sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know what to tell you.” She reached for the honey jar on the counter and spooned some into her tea.

“And I miss Thor. I really, really miss him.” Shelley ducked her head, waiting for Rita’s scolding, which never came. Instead, she felt Rita’s silent gaze on her.

“Maybe,” Rita said finally, “you shouldn’t get married in four days.”

“But how can I cancel now?” Shelley wailed. “My parents are flying in from Detroit tomorrow! And we’d be on the phone all night calling the other guests, telling them we’re canceling.”

Again, Rita shook her head. “I can’t tell you what to do. You have to make up your own mind. I’ll do what I can to help—whatever you need. Just ask.”

Shelley set down her teacup and embraced her friend. “Thanks, Rita. Thanks for letting me whine. I can always think more clearly after I talk things out with you.”

“I wish I could do more.” Rita set her back at arm’s length to look into her face. “What’s Thor’s take on this thing?”

“He’s selling his store and heading out of town. The Bad Boys are going on tour.”

“You didn’t answer my question. How does he feel about you?”

“I don’t know. We agreed not to see each other anymore.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

Shelley heaved a deep sigh of resignation. “Join a convent and become a nun, I guess.”

There was sadness in Rita’s smile. “Yeah, right. Just the place for a
femme fatale
.”

* * * * *

Three thumps on Shelley’s front door brought the conversation inside the living room to a halt.

“There he is now,” she announced to the people in the room. “Excuse me.”

She swung the door open and did a double take. “Wow, Dickie! You look…different.”

He wore a new tan corduroy jacket over dress slacks. Well-buffed loafers had replaced the usual worn sneakers on his feet.

Grinning, he ran a hand over his styled hair. “We’ve got a wedding coming up, don’t we?” He glanced past her to the interior and continued in a lowered voice, “Are your folks here? I didn’t want them to think I always look like a slob.”

“Don’t be silly.” She waved him into the living room. “Mom, Dad! Dickie’s here!”

Her father, seated on the sofa, rose and took a few steps forward. A big smile stretched his features. The welcoming expression was genuine, Shelley realized. He really liked Dickie.

Her fiancé met him halfway with hand extended. “How do you do, sir?”

Her father extended his hand with enthusiasm. “Good to see you again, Richard.”

From the sofa, her mother reached out for him. Dickie went to her, took her hand and kissed her on the cheek. She smiled as though he were one of the celebrities whose autographs she collected.

“What would you like to drink, Dickie?” Shelley asked. “Dad’s having beer, and we’re having wine.”

“Oh, uh, beer’s fine. Thanks.”

“Okay. Sit down. I’ll be right back.”

When Shelley returned from the kitchen, Dickie was telling her parents about the properties he’d contracted to manage that month. Their rapt attention indicated the level of admiration they had for their future son-in-law.

Dickie took the glass and beer from her, then elected to drink directly from the bottle as her father did. “I’m moving into an office of my own next week.”

“You are?” Shelley sat down next to her mother. “I didn’t know that.”

Dickie beamed. “Yep. I’m employee of the month, and I qualify for extra perks.”

“Congratulations, son!” Her father exchanged a private look with her mother, then turned back toward Dickie. He cleared his throat as though preparing to say something momentous.

Shelley recognized his body language enough to know he had something up his sleeve.

“Martha and I have been wondering…” her father cleared his throat again.

What he was about to say must be really important, Shelley thought, and leaned forward to hear.

“That is, how tight are you with that property management company you work for? Because we’re thinking about opening an office here in Loveland to see what kind of real-estate investments we can bring in. We’ll need a manager, of course, because we can’t leave the head office in Detroit. We thought you might be interested in the position.”

“Oh, Mr. Flynn!” Dickie seemed completely taken aback. “You’re opening a branch here?”

“We’re seriously thinking about it.” Shelley’s father winked at her, and his little smile told her he was pretty pleased with himself. “We’re impressed with what you’ve accomplished since you received your degree in business last year, and thought you might be just the person we need to head up an office here. We’d start you out with a decent salary, with an automatic raise of $5,000 per year and a percentage of the profits.”

“Oh, my God!” Dickie’s face turned a bright color. “Pardon me, sir. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes. We’re anxious to get started. I’m hoping you’ll track down the perfect building for our office. That will be your first order of business. You’ll be in charge from the beginning.”

“Well, I’ll start looking around.” Dickie laughed and shook his head as if in disbelief. “My job was just temporary. I mean, I didn’t intend to be a property manager forever. I’ve always wanted to manage investments.”

Shelley hadn’t seen him look so excited since…well, ever. The position her father was offering would be a dream come true for Dickie.

“That’s nice, Dad,” she said, touched at her father’s generous offer. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Her father grinned at her mother. “Ever since you accepted Richard’s proposal of marriage, I guess.”

Her mother reached over and took Dickie’s hand. “I can’t tell you much it meant to us when you helped Shelley find this little house at such a good price. And then tracked down financing that she could afford. I don’t know for sure how much money you chipped in to make the down payment, but Shelley didn’t have much in savings, so it had to be at least $10,000.”

Dickie ducked his head, and even his ears turned red. “I did what I could to help her…”

Her father reached into an inside pocket and brought out an envelope. “Richard. Shelley. We want you to have this. Think of it as a wedding gift.”

Dickie accepted the envelope, awkwardly fussed with the loose flap a moment, then pulled out what appeared to be a check. “Good Lord! Are you sure?”

Shelley asked, “What is it?

Dickie handed it to her. “This is… It’s most generous, sir.”

The check was for $10,000. Shelley’s heart sank into her shoes. “Oh, Mom, Dad. If I’d wanted your money, I would have asked you for a loan. We don’t need you to—”

“Now, listen here, young lady,” her father said gruffly. “A young couple just getting started in life faces a steep upward battle. We don’t mind offering a helping hand.”

They meant well, she knew. How could she tell them she didn’t want their help? When she’d left home, it was to find independence, to prove she could make it on her own. Yes, she’d allowed Dickie to help with her down payment, but that was different. She’d accepted it only under the condition that she make monthly payments to him. She’d promised to pay him back in full, and had always been prompt with her payments.

But her parents were making a gift of it, and that made her feel dependent on them again. Not only that, but it had the effect of consolidating her finances with Dickie’s. Which a husband and wife often did, she realized. So why did it make her feel beholden? Trapped? Smothered?

As she studied her parents’ expressions, looking for a clue to their motivation, anxiety churned in her stomach. What if the Loveland office failed to make the profits they expected? What if, heaven forbid, the office lost money? The pressure on Dickie to succeed would be inexorable. And she would share that pressure.

Goodbye independence!

“You’re doing too much,” she protested. “How do you know whether this is the best place to invest in properties? Have you studied the market?”

“Oh, we’re not worried about the market.” Her father grinned at Dickie. “We’ve got a man in charge who knows what he’s doing.”

Shelley couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her father never made an important decision without analyzing it to death first. “Are you looking for a write-off, is that it?”

Dickie gaped at her, clearly appalled at her nerve.

“Watch your tone, young lady,” her father admonished. “It’s insulting to Richard to suggest he can’t handle the job.”

One look at Dickie confirmed the damage she’d done to his ego. “No, I’m not suggesting he can’t do the job. I’m just asking—when have you had time to do your homework on this? A market analysis and all that? You’ve been in Detroit!”

“Shelley,” her father said sternly. “Now you just get off your high horse and start looking at the positives. I didn’t expect this kind of an ungrateful reaction. Frankly, I don’t understand your attitude at all.”

Glancing around the room at three faces staring at her with censure in their eyes, she knew she was fighting a losing battle. “Never mind.”

She tossed the check into Dickie’s lap and fled to her bedroom like the little girl she’d always been—and probably always would be—in her parents’ eyes. Flopping down on her bed, she fought the tears that welled up, the tightness in her throat.

“Shelley?” Her mother poked her head in the door. “May I come in?”

Shelley hesitated, then sat up to make room on the bed. “Sure, Mom.”

Her mother sat down and took her hand. “Your father’s been so excited about this plan. He just wants you to be happy. He loves you dearly. And so do I.”

“I know, Mom. This doesn’t have anything to do with how much we love one another. It’s about…making the right decisions. I don’t want Daddy to sacrifice anything on our behalf. I don’t want him to lose money.”

“He won’t, dear. He’s had a man in the field analyzing the situation for a month. Your dad wanted this to be a surprise for you. He wouldn’t do something stupid. I think you owe him an apology.”

“If you’re right, then I guess I do.” Shelley sighed deeply, hurting so far down inside she couldn’t identify the source.

“We just want you to be happy.”

“I know.”

Her mother gazed into her face. “
Are
you happy, dear?”

Shelly shrugged. “I don’t know…”

“What’s wrong?”

Shelley ran her hands through her hair, tried to marshal her thoughts.

“We always used to be close, didn’t we?” her mother asked. “You could always tell me anything.”

“All right, Mom. But you won’t like it.”

“Try me.”

Shelley explained her doubts concerning her love for Dickie, about her flagging hopes for a happy marriage.

“It’s normal to have some doubts before your wedding. I had them, myself. But if you put trust in your affection for him, for the feelings you’ve had for the past several months, I’m sure you’ll find love at the end of the rainbow.”

“That sounds suspiciously like one of those fairy tales you used to tell me at bedtime, Mom.”

“I suppose it does. But the truth is you’ll come to love your husband in every way if you give him a chance. Love grows year by year. I know.”

“But what if…what if you had met another man before your wedding? Someone who swept you off your feet and made you wonder if getting married right now was the right thing to do?”

“Shelley, look at me.” Her mother gazed intently into her eyes. “Tell me the truth. Have you met someone else? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“Maybe—”

“What do you mean maybe?”

“Okay, yes. I’ve met someone else. And I’m so torn, I don’t know what to do!”

Her mother drew a deep breath. “Well. Who is it? Does he feel the same way?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. It was just a fling, as far as he’s concerned. But I—I’m afraid my feelings go deeper. Oh, Mom! I’m so miserable!”

“Tell me about him. What does he do?”

He’s a shaggy-haired man in a black leather jacket who rides a Harley and sells adult flicks.

A chuckle bubbled out of Shelley’s mouth. No way could she tell her mother everything. The woman’s worst nightmare had always been that Shelley would drag home a boyfriend with a big tattoo on his biceps. “He’s an entrepreneur. He works for himself.”

“Doing what?”

“Oh, selling merchandise and arranging tours for a road show.”

“I see.” Her mother pondered a moment. “It’s not unusual to sow some wild oats before you settle down. Traditionally, that’s been reserved for men, but modern women demand equality. Thank God for birth control! It’s the best invention since fire. In my opinion, it’s directly responsible for the cultural revolution of the last few decades. Women can credit the pill for their freedom.”