Lady Be Good (47 page)

While Dallie had laughed, Warren had pretended sympathy, but Emma knew he was delighted to have his son publicly vindicated.

Unlike Sturgis Randall, Hugh Holroyd had escaped her public censure, but only because Emma had been afraid he’d use St. Gert’s to retaliate. At the time of the interview, her continuing worry about the school’s future had been the only mark on her happiness. Not long afterward, however, she’d hit upon a new plan of action. After dozens of phone calls, she and Penelope Briggs had managed to put together a consortium of parents, alums, local businesspeople, and miscellaneous Travelers who wanted to buy St. Gert’s. Unfortunately, Hugh had discovered Emma was behind the deal and had perversely refused to accept.

Until Kenny had intervened.

Emma fastened her latest gift from her husband around her neck, a breathtaking necklace of delicate gold vines. She smiled to herself as she remembered what had happened at Royal Lytham and St. Annes three months earlier during the British Open.

Playing spectacular golf, plus having an English wife, had made Kenny the most popular of the American players with the British public and press, and just before he’d gone into the final round, he’d asked Warren to put a phone call through to Hugh. Acting on Kenny’s instructions, Warren had advised the Duke of Beddington that Kenny would be using his press conference that day to entertain the press with some fascinating stories of his wife’s conflict with her former employer. Unless, of course, Hugh decided to behave reasonably.

It had been one thing for Emma to threaten exposure to Lower Tilbey’s garden columnist, but CNN was quite another matter. Hugh had agreed to accept the consortium’s offer and wash his hands of St. Gert’s.

Now, in addition to Emma and Kenny, Shelby Traveler was also a part owner of the old school, a surprise birthday present from Warren for his Anglophile wife. Shelby had become a fierce watchdog for St. Gert’s, and, at Emma’s suggestion, had ably represented the consortium at the last Founder’s Day celebration.

In the months since their marriage, Emma had grown increasingly fond, not only of Shelby, but also of Warren Traveler. In the way of men, he and Kenny didn’t talk much about the fact that their relationship had finally healed. Instead, they simply spent time together: on the golf course, riding horses, playing with Peter, or just enjoying Kenny’s victories. He was currently one of the leading money winners on the tour, despite the fact that he’d grown increasingly selective about which tournaments he played in because he didn’t want to be separated from her.

And that was one of the best things about her substitute teaching job. She had the pleasure of being back in the classroom, but she could also travel with Kenny whenever she wanted. She planned to continue her scholarly writing when she was home with the baby, and she was also developing a series of teacher training workshops to introduce some exciting new methodology in social studies instruction. She’d presented the first workshop last week, and it had been a huge success with Wynette’s middle school teachers.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He brushed his thumb across the tip of her nose. “The reigning British Open champion needs to be fed.”

An hour later, eight of them were gathered around the dining room table to celebrate Emma’s first American Thanksgiving and enjoy the platters of food they’d all pitched in to prepare according to Patrick’s orders. Peter perched in a high chair between Warren and Shelby, while Torie fed Dexter particularly juicy morsels of turkey breast from her own plate. Patrick refilled serving bowls and fretted about an overly brown crust on one of the pumpkin pies he would be serving when the Beaudine family and Skeet Cooper joined them for dessert.

“She kicked me!” Torie shrieked in midbite. “Dex! Feel!”

Dexter immediately put his hand on Torie’s seven-months-pregnant belly, while Shelby rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Torie, you’d think you were the only woman on earth who ever had a baby. That’s the fourth time you’ve made Dex feel your belly since Patrick passed the turkey.”

“I don’t mind.” Dexter leaned close and kissed his beautiful wife’s cheek.

Torie kissed him back, then turned to Shelby. “You’d better stop complaining or I’ll describe everything I’m doing to get ready for breastfeeding.”

They all groaned except Dexter, who looked like a man well-pleased with himself.

Kenny smiled as he remembered his sister’s wedding dinner toast to her brand-new husband.

“Here’s to you, Dex. My third andfinal husband, along with being the love of my life. Do you remember that I told you I had a surprise for you today? Well, guess what, you gorgeous geek? You knocked me up!”

There’d been no living with her since then. She strutted when she walked, shoving out her pregnant belly for all the world to see and insisting that everyone, from the truckers who ate at the Roustabout to Patrick’s special new friend, Raymond, feel its contours. At the dinner table, she loved nothing more than to share the intimate workings of both her digestive and excretory systems until all of them, even Emma, had begged Dexter to spank her again.

Kenny’s eyes drifted to the other end of the table where his wife sat. His own pregnant wife. Her love had made him a better person than he’d ever dreamed he could be. And she finally had all those attachments she’d wanted after years of being alone.

They exchanged one of the secret smiles that stroked his soul. He’d never imagined he could love a woman the way he loved this one. She tilted her head in Torie’s direction and lifted one eyebrow.

He understood immediately. They’d planned to share the news about their own baby with the family today, but Torie was having such a wonderful time strutting her stuff that Emma thought they should postpone their announcement and let her hold on to the limelight just a little longer.

He lifted his eyebrow back.
Torie doesn’t know how lucky she is to have a sister-in-law like you.

Her forehead creased.
Will you be awfully disappointed if we wait another week or so?

He brushed the corner of his mouth.
Maybe we should negotiate with point number six.

She laughed.

“They’re doing it again,” Shelby grumbled. “That silent talking.”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” Torie said. “You and Dad do it, too.”

Shelby set down her wine glass. “Which reminds me . . . everybody can see how much you and Dex love each other. Why don’t you two do it?”

“I try, but Dex is too literal, and he doesn’t understand all the nuances.”

Dex was unruffled by her criticism. “I understand the nuances. I just prefer direct communication.”

Torie patted her belly and gave a cat-and-canary smile. “Yeah, well, your direct communication is pretty damn good.”

All of them laughed, and Kenny thought how lucky he was.

Not long after dinner ended, the Beaudines and Skeet arrived. Ted, who was now gainfully employed in the new company that had formed since the merger, had brought along his girlfriend, an enchanting and sublimely intelligent social worker nearly five years older than he was, which seemed about right.

Everyone insisted they were too full to eat more than a sliver of dessert, then proceeded to devour Patrick’s delicious assortment of pecan and pumpkin pies. Torie got out her newest camera and shot an entire roll of film just of Peter. Then they all sprawled around the fireplace, too stuffed to do anything more than enjoy each other’s company.

“Guess what the hot new rumor in town is,” Patrick said.

Everyone turned to look at him.

“Well . . .” He prolonged the suspense by readjusting a throw pillow. “According to Paulette Cot, who’s apparently been the head secretary at Wynette High School for years . . .”

“Since the early sixties,” Dallie said.

“Anyway . . .” Patrick fussed with the pillow fringe. “According to Ms. Cot, a certain Kenneth Traveler’s permanent record seems to have permanently disappeared.”

“No kidding?”

“How’d that happen?”

“Is she sure?”

“That’s weird.”

There was a long silence. And then every one of them turned toward Emma.

Kenny nearly laughed aloud as she made a great business out of adjusting her necklace. His own public defender. It was embarrassing . . . but wonderful, too.

“I don’t know why you’re all looking at me.” She actually managed to purse her lips, the very picture of offended dignity. “As if I’d do such a thing.”

“You’d do it, all right.” Torie laughed. “And I’ve got twenty bucks says you’ll figure out how to get your hands on Kenny’s checkered college records by this time next year.”

Not a single person at the table would take her bet.

Much later, when the guests had left and the house was once again theirs alone, they headed for bed, arms around each other. But they weren’t even halfway up the stairs when Kenny stopped to gaze down at his wife. “I want something from you, Lady E. No questions. No arguments.”

“Oh, dear . . . that sounds dangerous.”

“It’s definitely dangerous, but I want you to agree anyway.”

She regarded him warily.

He smiled. “I just want you to love me. Like you do right now. But for the rest of our lives.”

Her eyes shone. And he knew right then—straight to the bottom of his heart—that his bossy little head mistress would do exactly as he asked.

Susan Elizabeth Phillips is one of our biggest women's fiction stars soaring onto the New York Times bestseller list with Dream a Little Dream. She's the only four-time recipient of Romance Writer's of America's prestigious Favorite Book of the Year Award. Susan delights fans by touching hearts as well as funny bones with her wonderfully whimsical and modern fairy tales. A resident of the Chicago suburbs, she is also a wife and mother of two grown sons.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

LADY BE GOOD. Copyright © 1999 by Susan Elizabeth Phillips. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of PerfectBound™.

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Mobipocket Reader edition v 1. April 2002 ISBN: 0-0607-7092-9

First Avon Book Printing: February 1999

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