Cupid’s Confederates

Chapter 9

Bett set down The Beekeeper’s Annual and glanced outside. The library at Silver Oaks was relatively new, with huge windows looking out on the main street of the town. Their small burg had one of everything-one grocer, one bookstore, one druggist, one department store; the single exception being, naturally, seven agricultural implements dealers. Kalamazoo and even Chicago weren’t that far to go for real shopping; but as it was, the community was small and exactly to Bett’s liking, a friendly, intimate, know-everyone type of place where it was perfectly safe to walk the streets at night.

Staring absently at the tree-lined street, she thought idly that the silver in the town’s name was a misnomer. The oaks were turning that smooth, buttery gold they always did in early October. A distracted thought; she seemed to have been distracted for the better part of a week. The thing was, whom did she know in the town who might be a good companion for her mother? Smoothing her navy skirt, she stood up and wandered toward the front of the long, book-lined room. Her skirt-donned especially for the trip to town-was paired with a red nubby sweater with a scooped neck and short sleeves. Her hair was tied back with a patterned scarf in the same colors.

She felt unusually pretty, and just a little more so when Mr. Hines looked up appreciatively as she paused in front of his desk. “I miss you in the summer,” he said warmly. “You and your husband are my best winter customers, you know.”

Bett chuckled, leaning on the counter. “I’m playing hooky this afternoon, I’m afraid. Though I did come here with a purpose. Word has it there’s a new virus attacking bees in the area, but I’ll be darned if I can find anything about it in any of the usual trade journals.”

Mr. Hines pushed back his glasses. “Do you have the name of it?”

Bett gave it. “But I don’t know anything about it except the rumor. Some disease brought up by a hive from Texas, settled in Ohio, moved into Michigan last spring?”

Mr. Hines’s forehead puckered, then smoothed out as he motioned to her to follow him. Bett stuck her hands in the pockets of her skirt, an amused and affectionate smile on her face as she trailed behind. Mr. Hines was a librarian to the core, but she had the feeling that he had secret fantasies of being a private eye. Mysteries were his obsession. Books were his turf, and somewhere in the billions of pages on the shelves there had to be answers for everyone.

“We’ll try here, first.” He motioned.

She had five magazines in front of her before she could have said boo, and rather than leaving her, Mr. Hines licked his thumb and started flicking through pages with her, pushing his glasses low on the bridge of his nose so he could see better.

Halfway through the second periodical, she found herself staring at him. Theodore Hines was rather short; in the five years she’d known him, he’d never worn anything but a gray suit. The kids loved him, in spite of his dignity. He’d probably help a convicted thief if the thief liked good literature-and didn’t use slang.

He had to be nearing sixty; Betty knew he was a bachelor. What would her dad have thought of him? she considered idly. Very thoughtful, very shy, occasionally just a little pompous, but no question; true-blue nice.

Mr. Hines turned absently and caught a sudden, radiant smile on Bett’s face. “You found what you needed?” he asked, as if thoroughly disappointed that the search had taken so little time.

“I think so-if I could take this out?”

“It’s supposed to be a reference for the library.” He frowned, and then offered her one of his tiny, very special smiles. “I can’t say we usually have a run on beekeeping material. If you could have it back to me in a day or two?”

“No problem.” Bett glanced at her watch. It was nearing five o’clock. “Are you working late tonight, Mr. Hines?”

“Not tonight.” He moved behind the librarian’s desk, searching distractedly for his date stamper. He had never once found it on the first attempt in the whole time Bett had known him. “Tuesdays and Thursdays I stay until nine, but Myra takes Mondays and Wednesdays. Then on Fridays-”

“I wonder,” Bett interrupted gently, “if you would like to come to dinner tonight?”

“Pardon?” The librarian blinked.

“All this time Zach and I have known you, you’ve always been so helpful to us. I can’t imagine why I’ve never asked you before,” Bett said smoothly. “We’re having lamb with a mint sauce tonight. My mother’s staying with us; she makes the most wonderful sponge cake. Wouldn’t you like to come?”

Mr. Hines turned a gentle shade of pink, clearly flustered. “I…I don’t know. I have no way…you see, I walk to work. It never occurred to me-”

“I could drive you out and Zach will bring you back. That’s no problem. You probably don’t like lamb, though,” Bett said sadly.

“I do. I do. I’ve always liked lamb,” Mr. Hines said nervously. “I never meant to imply I didn’t like lamb-”

“You don’t like sponge cake with marshmallow frosting?”

“I do. Or I suppose I do. Honestly, it isn’t that. I just…”

Mr. Hines just didn’t like to make decisions quickly. Another customer approached; he stamped three books with the wrong date and then did them over, glancing up twice at Bett. Honest-I have nothing painful in mind, her eyes told him affectionately.

“I’ll be right back,” she promised as two more people came up with their books. She hustled into the rest room to use her cell in private. “Mom, do we have enough for one extra for dinner?” Not that she needed to call. Her mother was a big fan of leftovers. Bett thought wryly that she could have brought an impromptu army to dinner and there still would have been food left over.

“Of course. Who is it?” her mother asked.

“Theodore,” Bett answered. “Theodore Hines. The librarian in town; he’s a wonderful old friend of ours.”

“Well, fine. Theodore-you call him Ted?”

Bett tapped the phone with the tip of her nail. “Um. Actually, we’d better stick with Theodore. Be home in a little bit, Mom.”

When Bett very gently herded Mr. Hines out of the pickup twenty minutes later, he was still flustered and apologizing for nothing that Bett could figure out, clearly bewildered at being offered a home-cooked dinner. He nearly balked again when he saw Sniper sitting on the seat; Bett resisted the urge to pat his fanny up into the truck before he could get away. He kept his hands folded meticulously in his lap four inches from the cat as she pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home.

“You’re absolutely positive this is going to be no bother?”

“Absolutely positive. My mother’s name is Elizabeth,” she mentioned, and rapidly turned to other subjects. Getting Theodore to relax was all uphill work. Shakespearean sonnets helped, and so did a discussion on medieval music. By that time, the librarian was doing all the discussing, since Bett knew absolutely nothing about the subject, but she’d moved from Mr. Hines to Theodore. A massive breakthrough.

And just in time. They were edging over the last hill before the driveway that led to the house. The sun was just squinting over the horizon in a blaze of orchid and fuchsia hues that for no reason at all made Bett think of making love with Zach.

Zach, as it happened, was pulling into the drive just ahead of her. She frowned absently, noting the outline of a head in the passenger seat of his truck. The last thing she needed at the moment was another visitor just before dinner. Red Hornack stepped out of the vehicle, laughing heartily at something Zach had said, as Bett turned onto the gravel and parked next to them.

Red owned the local feed store. He was a big, blustery, good-humored man with a fluff of red-gray hair on top of his head. He had half a dozen grown children, and had lost his wife a few years back. Bett and Zach knew him vaguely, having stopped in from time to time; he carried rabbit food and salt licks and wild bird seed, the kind of thing Bett couldn’t buy for her wild creatures in the grocery store.

Mr. Hines stiffened the moment he saw Red. Bett patted his hand reassuringly. “You know Red Hornack?” she asked lightly, and frantically tried to catch Zach’s eye as she bounced out of the truck.

“Come in, come in,” she urged the librarian.

“Little Bett!” Red boomed, and zeroed in for a rib-crunching hug.

As soon as she’d recovered, she grabbed Theodore’s arm and dragged him toward the door, beaming radiantly at Red. “We haven’t seen you in an age-”

“Well, I’ll tell you now, I just never expected an invite to dinner this night. Always thought the world of you two kids, always did. Miss my own; they’re strung out all over the country these days…”

Ah, yes. Inside the door, she took Theodore’s suit coat and Red’s faded denim jacket. Both men suddenly looked equally ill at ease, glancing around. Bett had only a moment to glare furiously at Zach before she took their arms and led her little lambs in toward the slaughter. “Mom?” she called out brightly.

Elizabeth peered out of the kitchen, her jaw dropping only slightly at the Mutt-and-Jeff duo. Her hostess’s smile instantly replaced a look of pure shock. She marched forward when her hand stretched out, a pink flush of shyness on her cheeks matching the ruffled powder-pink shirtwaist with its bright green sash. “I’m so glad to meet Bett and Zach’s friends. You’re…Theodore.” She had no trouble choosing the right hand to shake. “And you must be Red.” Her hand was pumped a mile a minute. Elizabeth glanced bewilderedly at her daughter. “Dinner will be ready in just about ten minutes, if that’s all right with everyone?”

“I’ll get drinks.” Bett noted that Zach seemed to be finding his open-throated shirt tight at the neck. Very strange. Red wanted a beer, from the can was fine; Mr. Hines preferred a light cream sherry.

The Monroe household stocked neither. Zach managed to come up with the last of the previous year’s honey wine while Bett discussed the forecast and seated their guests in the living room. Elizabeth had defected to the kitchen. After five minutes, Bett excused herself-just for one short minute-to powder her nose.

The downstairs bathroom was already occupied. Zach had his hands on his hips, a disgusted expression on his face, as he pushed the door closed with his foot. “You could at least have called home and told me you were bringing someone home tonight.”

“Exactly like you called me?”

“Bett, it just sort of happened…”

“So did Mr. Hines just sort of happen,” Bett said glumly. She leaned back against one wall; Zach leaned against the other. “But of all people. Red?” she moaned. “Honestly, Zach, what were you thinking? Red is so…lusty.”

“Lusty?” Zach’s mouth twitched. “Two bits, he’s got a paid-for business, a host of grandkids running in and out, a house that needs caring for, and financial security.”

Bett looked up at the ceiling. “He gives Mom one of those bear hugs and she’ll take off for the closet.”

“You think your choice is better? Hines might work up to a kiss after a five-year engagement.”

“He’s a very nice man,” Bett said huffily.

“He’s as boring as limp lettuce.”

A gentle knock interrupted them. Bett swiftly opened the door. Elizabeth blinked, startled to find the two of them in the bathroom together. “I was just coming to help you with dinner,” Bett announced brightly.

Dinner just didn’t go as anticipated. Theodore sliced his lamb into tiny pieces. Red wolfed his down. Elizabeth sat at one end of the table and steadily kept serving food that just as steadily kept disappearing. The two bachelors had clearly never eaten in their lives before. Theodore, in spite of all his priceless manners, was silently working on his third helping. Bett stared helplessly at Zach. No one was talking. What was this? Everyone was just…eating.

She pinched Zach’s thigh beneath the table. His fork clattered to his plate. “How’s business going, Red?”

“Jes’ fine, jes’ fine. More of them peas, please, Miss Elizabeth…”

“Certainly.” Elizabeth smiled.

They listened for a minute and a half to a discourse on the price of chicken feed before the conversation died again. Bett let her fingers wander up Zach’s thigh beneath the table. Half a dozen peas jumped from his fork back to the plate. “Extra busy at the library, Mr.-Theodore?”

The librarian looked up. “There’s been a rush on Chaucer,” he announced happily. “Three English classes at the high school got it assigned at the same time. I had to limit them to a seven-day checkout schedule-”

Chaucer didn’t go over very well. Bett seemed to be the only one listening as Elizabeth served sponge cake. As she swallowed her second bite, politely looking at Theodore Hines, Bett was terrified that she was going to yawn. Her left hand strayed to Zach’s lap again.

“More cake, Zach?” Elizabeth asked. “Anyone else?”

No-thank-yous chorused around the table.

“Well, I’ll just do the dishes, then,” Elizabeth announced.

Bett jumped up. “I’ll do them. Zach will keep me company. Would you serve coffee to Red and Theodore in the living room, Mom?”

The exodus didn’t take long. Bett stacked the dirty plates and carried them to the sink, casting a critical eye at Zach, who was still sitting by his lonesome at the kitchen table. There was definitely a wicked hint of sapphire in his eyes. “Have you taken a look at your left hand recently?” he asked.

“No. Why?” She lifted up her palm.

“It should be blushing from all that…activity at the table.”

“It is,” she announced, and added sadly, “Zach, this isn’t going at all well.”

“Give them a few minutes.” He rose from the table to help her with the dishes. They took as long as they could. When neither could find a single excuse to remain in the kitchen, they both walked just to the door and paused to peer delicately around the corner.

Red was slouched on the sofa, his stomach protruding; he was red-faced and yawning from his huge dinner. Theodore sat next to him, primly erect, his hands fidgeting in his lap. Elizabeth was sitting in the chair across from them, crocheting an afghan. No one was talking.

Zach glanced at Bett. “A bomb might get that group moving, but I doubt it,” he whispered.

“We shouldn’t have fed them. They both look ready to go to sleep.” Bett sighed. “Mom would have considered it a compliment if they did fall asleep after one of her dinners.”

Zach left to drive the potential beaux home at nine. Shortly after that, Elizabeth declared she was tired, and picked up a book to take to her room. “I think it’s a healthy thing that you two have such a wide variety of friends, Bett.”

“Yes.” Bett climbed the stairs behind her mother and gave her an affectionate hug at the top. “I’m sorry to have landed you with an extra two for dinner.”

“You’re joking. You know I love that. You have as many people over as you want, anytime,” Elizabeth assured her.

Bett took a bath, donned nothing afterward and climbed smooth-skinned under the sheet to wait for Zach. She heard the truck roll in around ten and then listened to the assorted muted sounds from below-Zach getting a drink of water, switching off the lights, swearing softly at Sniper who evidently was sitting in the middle of the stairway.

When he saw that the bedroom light was off, Zach entered very silently, closing the door behind him. Moonlight shone in on the comforter, on the soft mound of Bett’s figure. She was exhausted; he wasn’t surprised. Her mischievous moves under the dinner table were still making him smile; it had made a difference, their talk. Not that she couldn’t exhibit more sass than sense on occasion, but Bett had always been a toucher-a caress, a kiss, a hug, all of which had been missing whenever her mother had been in the same room. He felt a warm tug of love for his lady, who had just needed a little reminder that they stayed together through thick and thin. These days were a little thin with Elizabeth around, but they were coping. He pulled off his jeans and shirt, then the rest of his clothes, and very carefully made his way to the bed in the darkness, not wanting to wake her.

The sheets were cold. Gradually, his body heat began to transfer to the percale. He moved instinctively to his side, one arm reaching to drape around Bett and drag her into the spoon of his chest and bent knee.

She turned at just that instant to face him, sliding her leg between his, arching her small breasts against him, snuggling provocatively. “You’re tired,” she whispered.

The hell he was. An amused smile crossed his face as he reached for her. Those hot little button nipples pressing against his ribs roused about a dozen reactions, none of them exhaustion. Her thighs were smoother than silk, but much, much warmer. “You want to go to sleep, do you?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

“You don’t want to talk.”

“I do want to talk,” she corrected sleepily, her palm sliding down the muscle of his thigh. “Just not at this exact minute.”

“You’re too tired.”

“We both need sleep,” Bett agreed in a low, throaty whisper.

He really had to do something to control those teasing impulses of hers. She arched back when his lips found the column of her throat. He cradled her closer yet, his palms splayed on her bottom. Her skin was warm and pliant, fragrant like the night, as provocative as the darkness. A sweet little tremor shook her body when his hand smoothed down the length of her.

The light knock on the door made him grit his teeth. “Brittany?” Elizabeth whispered.

Zach clamped a hand on Bett’s mouth. She was too busy swallowing to answer, anyway. “She’s asleep, Liz. Need something?”

“Oh, of course not, Zach. I certainly didn’t mean to disturb you. Brittany and I have rather gotten used to sharing a cup of tea when she can’t sleep,” Elizabeth whispered. “I’m terribly sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

She hesitated. “You don’t know where she keeps the tea?”

The tea was in the same cupboard it always was. In the kitchen, with all the lights turned on again, Elizabeth beamed at Zach, at the same time sending him apologetic signals with her eyes. “You didn’t have to get up, you know; but I have to admit I rarely have the chance to talk to just you.”

His dark robe belted firmly around him, Zach smothered an irritated yawn. Bett was all through with interrupted nights. And when the moment presented itself, Elizabeth was about to get a very tactful lecture on privacy. He forced a smile as he settled in the kitchen chair across from his mother-in-law.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you alone for some time, anyway,” Elizabeth admitted shyly. Her color was suddenly high, matching her bright pink robe with the ruffles at the neck. “Zach, I feel I can talk to you. I always have. Most sons-in-law…I just don’t think I would have had that feeling.”

Zach lifted his eyebrows, the first puff of wind knocked out of his sails. “If you have some problem, Liz…”

“Not exactly a problem. It’s just-oh, I just feel Chet should have handled this. You know, you and Bett have been married for some time.”

“Yes.”

Elizabeth dunked her tea bag, then delicately dropped it in the saucer and lifted the cup to her lips. “I don’t know how to say this,” she admitted with a shy little laugh. “My daughter… I love my Brittany so very much, Zach. She’s not…”

Zach waited, not having the least idea how to help her because he didn’t have the least idea what she was talking about.

“In the beginning of a marriage,” Elizabeth said slowly, “a young couple is so very much in love. But then later, ‘in love’ changes to loving; it’s a very different thing, a much more important thing.” Elizabeth pleated her robe four times, and then took another sip of tea. “Sometimes, it takes work, loving. The thing is, Brittany is rather shy, Zach. Hardly a woman of the world. She never has been. One would like to be sure she is happy.”

Elizabeth leveled a soft, brown-eyed, puppy stare at him that Zach understood very well was supposed to be meaningful. He floundered. “You mean the farm-”

“No,” Elizabeth said swiftly, and lowered her eyes. “Chet would have handled this so much better,” she announced.

Zach had the sneaking suspicion that Chet wouldn’t have initiated this conversation in the first place. His eyes strayed helplessly to the clock. The witching hour was almost at hand.

“You’re rather male,” Elizabeth said nervously.

He blinked.

“And in the beginning of a marriage-well, that’s one thing. It’s later that counts. The years of building. And Brittany’s terribly gentle by nature; that just doesn’t go away. A man doesn’t usually feel…he has to be patient anymore, after a time. Actually, though, it’s the patience that counts long after the honeymoon. Love isn’t just measured in…” Elizabeth paused, taking another gulp of tea, her face poppy-red. “Chet would have handled this much, much better.”

Zach hadn’t missed the theme of the conversation this time, but handling it was something else. Elizabeth was wringing her hands together in her lap, her soft eyes resting on his, communicating how difficult it was for her to discuss the subject. He wished he felt more exasperation. As it was, he felt a swift stir of compassion, and total weariness at the realization that it wasn’t likely they were going to discuss privacy when his mother-in-law wanted to talk about sex. “Look,” he said gently. “If you’re worried about whether Bett and I are happy in bed-”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. “I wasn’t trying to get that personal,” she said stiffly. “Honestly, Zach. If you think I would really pry-”

Zach’s hand covered hers. “I don’t necessarily think we need to mention this conversation to Bett.”

“Lord, no,” Elizabeth agreed nervously.

“Bett isn’t unhappy, Liz.”

Elizabeth’s poppy color shaded down to pale pink.

“And she certainly is shy. Terribly shy,” he said gravely, and added, “she’s a good girl.”

The phrase sparked a smile. “I-that’s just the thing. I always knew that. My Brittany is the kind of woman a man wants to marry, not just-”

“She certainly isn’t that,” Zach agreed, praying silently that not an ounce of emotion showed on his face. “Do you think you can sleep now?”

“Yes. I’ve been worried about this for so long. I wish that Chet could have had this little chat with you…”

Zach stood up; so did Elizabeth. “Everything okay now?” he questioned gently.

Elizabeth heaved an enormous sigh. “Fine,” she agreed. “I just knew I could talk to you, Zach. I think we can both go to sleep now.”

Ten minutes later, he was cuddled against his delectably hot-blooded little wife, his disgustingly male instincts appropriately subdued when she murmured in her sleep, sensually curving her limbs around him. He knew damn well what Bett was dreaming about. The same thing he was about to.