Wishmakers (16 page)

“He isn't
my
Justin anymore,” she hissed.

“He thinks he is,” he said with equal venom.

“What do you mean by that?” she responded through clamped teeth.

“He's called every day you've been here, and I'm getting damned sick of it.” He looked at her as if she were guilty of some heinous crime.

She was stunned at this latest evidence of Justin's concern, and she didn't know whether to feel touched, guilty, or annoyed.

“That isn't my fault!” Her voice trembled with confused indignation. “He's paid to look after my interests,” she defended.

“He's wanting to get you back behind that stone wall so he can keep his eye on you and protect his own interests.” He waited a brief moment, his expression undergoing a change. She was about to protest his insults when he spoke again. “Why did you allow them to treat you like an adolescent?”

She was suddenly still. “I did it when my father was alive because it gave him peace of mind,” she said bleakly. Chip reached across the table and moved her glasses farther up her nose. “I waited so long to break free that everyone thinks of me as someone without enough initiative to look after herself.”

“And whose fault is that?” The strong mouth was taut.

“Mine,” she admitted with a tilt to her head. “At least I'm smart enough to know that I was weak. It doesn't mean, Mr. Thorn, that I'm weak now.”

Their eyes did battle, and then he grinned. “Atta girl. Well, eat up. I'll drop you off at the house. Dolly should be there by now. I've got work to do at the office.” He reached for her half-finished meat pie.

“Will I get to visit the logging camps?”

“You're still bent on going?”

“If it wouldn't be too much trouble for you to take me.”

“And if it would be too much trouble?”

He was teasing, she could tell, so she gave him a wavering smile and admitted, “I'd still want to go.”

He stood and loaded their empty plates onto a tray. “Push your glasses up, sweetheart.”

It wasn't until they were outside that Margaret realized he'd called her sweetheart and there had been no one to hear it but her.

CHAPTER TEN

“W
ELCOME HOME
, D
OLLY
.”

Chip went forward to meet the short, full-bodied woman with the broad smile on her plain, lined face. He put an arm across her shoulders and hugged her affectionately. The woman had bustled in from the kitchen the moment they opened the front door.

“How are you feeling? You look as pert and sassy as ever.”

“I feel like I could lick my weight in wildcats, Chip. I feel dandy. I'm glad to be back home.”

“We're glad to have you. Did they get your insulin regulated so you won't have any more blackouts?”

“They think they did.” She fairly beamed at him, then turned expectantly to Margaret.

“Dolly, this is Maggie Anderson—Maggie, Dolly Ashland.”

Margaret put out her hand. “How do you do.”

Dolly grasped Margaret's fingers in her broad, workroughened hand. “I'm fine, just fine. You?”

“Fine,” Margaret said, and they both laughed.

“I'm glad you two are fine,” Chip said with a teasing grin. He leaned down to look into Margaret's face, then gently pulled off her glasses. “They're so coated with sawdust I'm surprised you can see at all.” He whipped out a handkerchief, cleaned the lenses, and carefully settled the frames back onto her face. “Isn't that better?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said softly.

“I'm leaving her here with you, Dolly. I've got a mountain of work to do at the office, and I want to take a few days off at the end of the week to show Maggie the logging camps. That means I'll have to burn the midnight oil for awhile. I may not be back tonight,” he said to Margaret, “but you'll be okay here with Dolly and Penny.”

“Of course I will. Isn't Penny due home soon? We worked on her spelling last night,” she said to Dolly, “and I'm anxious to know how she did today.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Chip's mouth.

Dolly followed him to the door. “Now don't you be working through the night without any hot food in your stomach. You take time to go up to Donna's, or call and she'll send something down.” Margaret laughed at the plump little woman talking to the tall, blue-eyed man as if he were a small boy. “And whatever did you do to those jeans? Chip Thorn, did you put them in with the whites?”

Chip's eyes caught Margaret's, and he laughed out loud. “Ask Maggie.”

“He deserved it!” Margaret blurted. “I'm sorry there were only four pairs!”

Dolly's laughter bounced off the walls. “I just bet he did. You just might've met your match, Chip.”

“I don't know about that. We've got a few rounds to go.”

Margaret held her breath, watching his face to see if the remark held hidden sarcasm, but pure amusement was dancing in his eyes. Her own eyes must have given mute testimony of her anxiety, because suddenly he looked serious and he unfolded his arms and held them out to her.

“Come kiss me good-bye, sweetheart.”

Letting her breath out in a shaky laugh, Margaret moved forward and into his arms, forcibly reminding herself that this was all for Dolly's benefit. It was her last coherent thought as he pressed his mouth to hers in a long, hard kiss. His arms held her, and she was suspended in a haze of longing. He lifted his head, and her eyes flew open to stare up into his. He lowered his head again, and his lips grazed her cheek and slipped to her ear.

“Do that again,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Kiss me.”

His mouth shaped itself to hers. She hesitated, then parted her lips against his and slowly traced the bottom curve of his inner lip with the tip of her tongue. This time there was a sense of familiarity in the feel of his mouth and in the flood of pleasure that washed over her.

Her eyes were cloudy and her mouth was half-parted, when he moved his head back so he could look into her face.

“Something tells me I should run like hell,” he said for her ears alone. “But I'll be back tomorrow. You can count on it.”

Margaret only half heard him. Still in a state of emotional confusion, she fixed unfocused eyes on his mouth and watched his lips form the words. His arms left her, and two big hands righted her glasses.

Dolly was chuckling behind them. “I thought you were going somewhere, Chip.”

“Take care of my girl, Dolly. See you tomorrow.” He went out the door, and Margaret moved toward it to watch as he got into the four-wheel drive, circled the yard, and sped away.

“Well, well, well.” Dolly was smiling broadly when Margaret turned to look at her. “I think you've got old Chip horn-swoggled at last.”

“Got him what?”

“Hog-tied. You know what I mean.”

Margaret felt her face warm with telltale color. “Well, I don't know…”

Dolly laughed again. “Well, I do. You like him, don't you?”

Margaret turned away quickly and saw the yellow school bus at the end of the lane. “Here comes Penny.” The cool air fanned her flushed face as she stepped out onto the porch to wait for the child. Like him? I love him so desperately I may die from it. Her thoughts raced and her heart pounded happily as she watched the little girl run toward her. Could this ever be mine? Oh, God, I'd gladly give up every cent Daddy accumulated if there were just a chance I could live with Chip in a house like this and stand on the porch and watch our child run up the lane from the school bus.

It became obvious as the evening progressed that Dolly and Penny adored Chip. Dolly's late husband had been one of the first men hired by Chip's father when he went into the lumber business. He had been killed in an accident, unrelated to the mill, several years ago, and Dolly had moved into the company house to act as housekeeper, bringing Penny with her. Penny's mother, Dolly's only child, lived in Denver. Although it was not voiced, Margaret was aware that Dolly disapproved of her daughter's lifestyle.

Margaret wanted desperately to reveal her identity to Dolly and ask her about Tom MacMadden, Edward Anthony, and August Thorn, but something held her back. Chip had gone to such lengths to keep her identity secret, and he must have had a very good reason for doing so.

It was after dinner and just before Penny's bedtime when the little girl dropped a piece of news that moved some of the puzzle pieces into place.

“I wish Chip wouldn't go back to his other house when Maggie goes home. I wish he'd stay here. Why doesn't he, Grandma? If Maggie stayed here, would he stay, too?”

Dolly's hands were still for a moment, and she let the needlework rest in her lap. “I don't know, honey.”

Margaret's mind shifted into alertness and the picture of the barking dog on the dock flashed into it. “I'd think he'd have to go back and take care of his dog,” she said, casually flipping the page of a magazine. Dolly's hands stilled once again, and she glanced at Margaret over the rims of her glasses.

“Hattie and Simon take care of Boozer,” Penny said quickly. “But Boozer likes me. Chip takes me up to his other house sometimes and lets me hit the balls on the pool table. I guess he wouldn't want to live here when he can live there.” She sighed deeply. “It's got soft rugs and big bathrooms and a TV this big.” Penny held her hands wide apart. “He's got one in his room, too. And you can punch on a little box by his bed and get whatever station you want. He let me do it once. Maybe he'll take you up there before you go home, Maggie.”

“Maybe he will,” Margaret murmured. She looked up to see Dolly's eyes fixed intently on hers, watching and judging her reaction. Refusing to allow her features to reflect her inner turmoil, she smiled at Penny and changed the subject. “We do good work, don't we? Was Miss Rogers surprised that you had a perfect spelling paper?”

“I want to get one next week, too. Will you be here to help me?” The child moved close and cuddled against her.

“I'll be here part of the week. Bring the list home tomorrow and we'll get a head start. Okay?”

After Penny went to bed, Dolly brought in mugs of hot chocolate, handed one to Margaret, and sat down again in the recliner.

“This is very good,” Margaret said from her place at the end of the couch. This is where Chip and I made love, she suddenly thought. She moved her hand lovingly over the cushion beside her.

“You didn't know about Chip's house? You thought he lived here all the time?” Dolly asked, breaking into her thoughts.

“Ah, well, knowing he's a partner in Anthony/Thorn, I was aware he could probably afford to live in his own house. But this is company property, so I assumed he had the right to live here.”

“I don't know why he didn't tell you, Maggie. He must have his reasons. He's a fine man—and very young for all the responsibility he shoulders. This whole area depends on the jobs Chip provides.” She paused as if groping for words to say something more in a tactful way. “I don't know whether you want to hear this or not, Maggie, but you're not the first girl to come out from the city to visit, and he's always brought them here.”

Margaret and Dolly exchanged glances, and Margaret saw something like compassion in the older woman's eyes. “I like this house. It's cozy, and there's everything here a person could want. And you certainly don't have to hunt all over to find each other,” Margaret said with a small laugh.

Dolly looked at her as if she couldn't believe her ears, and then her wrinkled face broke into a smile. “I like it, too. It's the nicest home Penny and I have ever had. I only hope we'll be able to live here until Penny is out of school and on her own.”

“Is there any doubt of it?”

“There could be. Chip's partner died a few months ago, and his daughter inherited those shares. Chip said it could mean one of two things. She'll either want to expand the business and go for a foreign market—and he doesn't have the money for that—or she'll want to sell. And if he can't buy her out, she could sell to a big corporation that would close the mill down and use it for a tax deduction. I don't understand all that business stuff, but I know everyone is worried. Rich people from the city don't understand people like us.”

“Has Chip met this woman?” she asked as casually as she could manage. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she wished she hadn't uttered them.

“Once, I guess. He said she was Ed's pampered little girl and we needn't expect her to see Anthony/Thorn as anything but small potatoes.”

“You sound as if you knew her father.”

“Oh, yes. We all liked him at first. Then he got into the big money and bought everything he wanted. After he got it, he didn't come around anymore.” There was a bitter note in her voice. “You'll not find anyone 'round here who's got a good word for Ed Anthony.”

“And why not? It was his money, too, that provided their jobs,” Margaret defended, forgetting all thoughts of caution.

“His money, but it was August Thorn and his son who furnished the sweat and the know-how,” Dolly said firmly. “Ed Anthony is a subject people 'round here don't talk much about. Tell me about yourself, Maggie. Chip said he met you on one of his trips to Chicago.”

For the next half hour they chatted easily, and Margaret hoped her lies were convincing. The story she told was what she wished had happened, and that made the telling easier.

The next evening Chip phoned to say he wouldn't be coming out as he had planned. Several things had come up that needed his attention. Margaret swallowed her disappointment and listened as he told her that her friend had called from Chicago, and that he'd assured her that Maggie was having an enjoyable vacation.

“Maggie?” he said after a while when she didn't say anything.

“I'm here, Chip.”

“This is a seven-party line, you know. Someone else may be wanting to use the phone.”

“I understand.” It was his way of reminding her to watch what she said, she realized.

“Be ready tomorrow morning and I'll come by and pick you up. We'll head on north.”

Margaret thought she could hear someone breathing into the phone, and then she heard a muffled giggle.

“All right. How long will we be gone?”

“A couple of days. You don't need to take anything but a change of clothes. Tell Dolly to put a few things in a duffle bag for me. The Jeep is already packed with emergency supplies. Oh, yes. How about packing a food hamper? We should make it to the camp in time for dinner, but a snack on the way would be welcome.”