The Company You Keep (26 page)

Wow.
He could actually feel molecules move. She pushed forward, reaching out with her arm, her breasts lightly pushing against the sleeve of his blazer.

What the…

She stretched to pick up a small clutch bag on the narrow hall table behind him. When she straightened up, she leaned even closer.

Vic couldn’t help noticing that she definitely was
not
wearing a bra. And he could only hope that he wouldn’t do anything too embarrassing.

* * *

HOLDING THE SMALL CLUTCH BAG next to her nervous stomach, Mimi looked over at Brigid. “Now, you promise to have a shower before the pizza is delivered, right?” She took a step back into the central hallway and shouted, “Press, I’m about to leave. Could you come take care of things?”

Then she turned back to Vic. “My half-brother’s in charge tonight since my father and Noreen aren’t back yet.”

He stopped adjusting the knot of his rep tie. “Your father’s still in the hospital? I thought it was just a panic attack.” She could hear the concern in his voice.

“It took longer to check out than they’d hoped. Something about the cardiologist being tied up in the morning. I’m sure my father had kittens, reminding everyone how much money he’s donated to the place over the years.”

The sound of footsteps chugging up a flight of stairs could be heard, then the slamming of a door. Press appeared from behind the grand staircase.

“Sorry, I was just looking for a bicycle pump. It looks like a tire on my bike is flat and I was hoping it’s just from lack of use.”

Mimi coughed into her hand. “I might have gone over a nail when I borrowed it the other day. I was going to get it fixed.”

“Yeah, right. Like that’s about to happen.” Press gave her an annoyed look.

Mimi held out her hand. “Vic, I think you met Press the other day. As you can see we have a mutually supportive relationship.”

“Sounds similar to the relationship between my brother and me.”

Press gave a curt wave, then slammed his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “I remember you from the other day at the Palace. Good to see you again,” Press said with a nod. Then he directed his attention to Mimi. “So any idea when Dad and Noreen are getting back?”

Mimi shook her head. “I’m not sure. Noreen said the counselor was squeezing them in at the end of his regular schedule of clients.”

Vic raised his eyebrows. “Counselor?” he asked quietly, mindful of Brigid standing next to him.

“What? They’re going to go to camp and I don’t get to? That’s not fair,” Brigid pouted. “Mummy says I’m too young. You don’t think I’m too young, do you?” She looked up at Vic.

Vic looked stricken.

“Ignore her. She’s a master of manipulation,” Mimi advised. Then she regarded her sister. “It’s not that kind of counselor.”

“Probably M-A-R-R-I-A-G-E,” Press spelled out rapidly.

“Mar—Mar…” Brigid tried to form the words.

Mimi raised her eyebrows. “Careful. Little pitchers have big ears.”

“And very good spelling skills.” Vic looked impressed.

Press scooped up Brigid and threw her over his shoulder. “Okay, half-pint, into the shower with you. Otherwise there’s no pizza and I’m hungry. And when I’m hungry, I eat children for dinner.” He made loud munching noises.

She squealed riotously.

Then he made a theatrical sniff of her pants legs. “Whew! You smell like a stable. It’s definitely shower time.” He turned and headed for the stairway.

“Thanks, Press,” Mimi called out.

“Have fun, you two.” Press waved over his shoulder. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He continued his march up the stairs.

“We’re going to paint each other’s nails,” Brigid announced, her head bobbing as Press went up each step. She waved goodbye and giggled.

Mimi looked across at Vic. “I presume you didn’t have pedicures in mind.”

Vic shook his head. “The thought never occurred to me. It’s something much more conventional.” He glimpsed his watch. “Actually, we should get going.”

“In that case, shall we?” She preceded him out of the house, waiting for him to close the door behind them.

He did so carefully, then stopped, hands on hips. He cocked his head to one side and let his eyes drag downward, giving her legs an obvious appraisal. “You know, I probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Why? You think I’ll object on sexist grounds?”

“I hadn’t thought about that. No, it’s just that I’m not particularly keen on having my actions recorded for posterity.” He pointed up toward the camera.

“Well, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.” Mimi stepped nearer and raised her clutch to cover the camera lens. “As to my feminist sensibilities, what can I say? Vanity wins out. Stare all you want.” She went on tiptoe and gave him a deep kiss. When she finished, she sank back on her heels. “And I must say, as well, that you look very natty tonight.” She brushed her fingers across his lapel—a blue blazer, naturally. “I like the tie, too. Pink suits you.”

“A present from my sister. She says I should be secure in my masculinity. But enough about me.
You
look great, too. The dress. It’s…it’s…”

Mimi laughed. “It’s so not me?” She leaned up again and gave him a quick kiss before skipping down the steps to the red pebbles in the drive. “I asked Noreen when I was talking to her on the phone if I could borrow something, and she said go ahead. I’m sure the dress looks better on her, but I thought…whatever?”

“No, whatever.” He took the steps in one stride and caught her by the hand. Then he grabbed the other and held her away to look at her. “You know, I was wondering what your legs looked like.”

She went
en pointe
on one foot. Her calf muscle tensed. “Disappointed?”

“Are you kidding me? Definitely A-plus.”

“It’s all the swimming. Develops the leg muscles, not to mention the gluts.”

He cocked his head to get a glimpse at her backside. “You know, if someone had asked me, I would have thought it was mostly upper body strength.”

“On the contrary, most of the action takes place below the water.”

“You don’t say?” He pulled her up against his chest. This time, he was the one to lower his head and offer the deep kiss.

When he pulled away, she sighed loudly. “So, the start of our second date. I can’t wait to see what comes next.”

“I hope it lives up to your expectations.” He held open the door to his parked car. “You know the Quadrangle Club?”

Mimi slipped into the passenger seat and looked up. “You mean the undergraduate musical theater group? The one that does the satires?” She did up her seat belt and watched him circle the front of the car and get into the driver’s seat.

He put the key in the ignition. “Yeah, they’re having a show tonight to kick off Reunions. Something called ‘My Big Fat Grantham Wedding.’”

“That’s pretty awful. You do know that no matter what the play’s about it always ends with a kick line with guys in drag?”

“You think I’m not open to a little cross-dressing?”

Mimi put the back of her head against the headrest and considered her answer. “Somehow I just can’t imagine a female version of you. Even in pink, you exude testosterone.”

“Is that good or is that bad?” He looked unsure.

She leaned sideways. The wraparound dress slit open at the bottom, exposing a fair amount of leg. She wondered if he’d noticed. “In your case, definitely good.”

From the way he was moving his jaw, he’d noticed all right.

“So dinner and a show?” she asked, feeling powerful.

He started up the car and slowly drove to the gate. “More like a show and dinner. I got tickets for the early performance. The later one was sold out.”

She reached out to touch his arm to stop him. “You know, I have a confession to make.”

“You’ve met someone else at the Daisy Hill stables?”

“Its Colonial Hall, as you know only too well—so stop teasing me. And, no, I didn’t meet anyone—at least no one over the age of twelve. It’s just that…that…I’ve never been a huge fan of musical comedies—of any sort. I know that’s practically un-American, and I could probably recite most of the songs in ‘The Sound of Music’ but that doesn’t mean I really like them. I know you went and got the tickets. And I’d be happy to reimburse you. Not that it wasn’t a spark of genius thinking to buy them—under normal circumstances that is.”

Vic put the shift in Park and turned to face her head-on. “But this isn’t normal.”

“It’s more like I’m not.” She wrinkled up her face. “Is that bad?”

He let his shoulders relax. “No, in your case that’s definitely good. And to tell you the truth, I’m not much into kick lines. I never got them, even when it was a line of football cheerleaders. It just seemed so cheesy. So obvious.”

Mimi grinned. “I always thought you were a subtle kind of guy.”

“No, you didn’t. But that’s all right. So what do you suggest?”

“First a question. Are you really hungry?” She was starved, but she wasn’t going to admit it. In fact, she’d been hungry for the past few days in ways she hadn’t been for months.

“Not particularly. Why?”

“But you made a reservation, right?”

“At the new place in town called Sustenance. Well, relatively new. A couple years old, maybe. I’ve never been there, but my brother, Joe, swears by it for dates.”

“I’m sure it’s just wonderful, but I have a favor—another favor, I guess, technically.”

“Another favor?” He lowered his chin and gazed at her from under his eyebrows.

“Do you think you could cancel the reservation?”

Now he looked confused. “I suppose. You have somewhere else in mind?”

“Do I need to spell it out?”

“My place, then?” he asked, ever the quick study.

“If we go back to mine, you run the risk of having to play Barbies.”

“I’d rather play with you.”

Mimi felt a tingle in her gut that had nothing to do with the dozen organic Gummi bears she’d had for lunch.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

VIC EXITED THE GATE and turned left on her street. At the intersection by the Y, he went through a yellow light.

“That was a bit risky,” Mimi noted, even though three cars behind him did the exact same thing, the last when the light had already changed.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m in a hurry.” He glanced over as they approached the public library. “Are you okay?”

“If you mean about riding in the car—I’m nervous.” She pursed her lips. “But not that much. More nervous in a good way.”
Strange, how the mind works.

She glanced to the left at an old Victorian house that was divided into apartments. It was where Lilah and Justin used to live before they bought their own house on the other side of town. She remembered the good times there—lots of laughter and probably a little too much wine. Definitely too much wine.

He cut past the shopping center and turned right at an office complex of medical doctors on the corner. The hilly road gradually gave way to suburbia with its Colonial and split-level houses, the sprawling lawns and sweeping Norway maples.

The road dipped and Vic took the first left. The private drive was lined with flowering cherry trees on both sides and the ground had been artificially contoured into flowing hillocks to provide the maximum privacy for the town houses over the ridge.

Mimi had been to the complex once years ago, and then only because she was curious about what had happened to the wooded hill that she used to sled down as a kid. The hill was gone, replaced by an intimate cluster of Georgian town houses. Eye-level brick walls delineated small private front gardens. Wrought-iron plaques displayed the house numbers and Colonial-looking lampposts stood sentry on every street corner. It was like a bit of eighteenth-century Inner City Philadelphia transported to the countryside. And now that the years had passed and all the landscaping had matured, the small complex had lost that fresh, almost naked feeling, replaced by a quiet sense of comfort.

Vic circled around the block and pulled into a short driveway large enough for two cars. He had an end unit. “We’re here,” he announced, cutting the engine.

Mimi got out and looked around. “That’s great to have the woods on one side. Makes it really private.”

“Yeah, Roxie loves it.”

Mimi glanced at the other units. They all looked approximately the same size—three floors, double garages—a planned development, but definitely not a development for poor people. Then she noticed a white curtain flutter in the second-story window of the town house next door. “Why do I get the feeling that someone is watching us?”