Beth was grateful for the darkness inside the car. She was relieved Carter could not see her blazing cheeks as he apologized.
“I fear I haven’t been a good sport,” he said.
“No! I’m to blame. I’m the one who lied and caused you so much trouble.”
Carter made no reply for several long moments. Then, as though choosing his words carefully, he replied, “I’ve aided and abetted in deception. Call it guilt by association if you like. We’re in this together.”
Ten minutes later, he turned into the driveway of a homey arts-and-crafts style bungalow. The home had towering oak trees in the yard, a wide front porch, and two lighted wall sconces glowing on either side of the front door.
Carter opened her door, and Beth slid from the vehicle into the dark night. Carter remained where he was, blocking her exit. When she looked at him, Beth could see the pale light of the crescent moon shimmering on his face. She inhaled the faint fragrance of his aftershave and found his nearness more than a little disturbing.
“Beth,” he spoke her name quietly. He reached out and touched her hair, gently pushing away a single strand from her cheek.
Beth found it hard to breathe. She wished she could see the expression in his eyes.
“This will all be over in a few days. Then you can decide when, or if, you want to tell your family the truth. In the meantime, I’d consider it an honor to stand by your side.”
Speechless, Beth could feel the beginning of new tears.
Carter reached for her hand. Weaving his fingers through hers, he pulled her gently toward the house. With her hand in his warm, strong clasp, they climbed the steps up to the porch. Beth felt as though her feet were weightless and her smile permanent. Never in her life had she felt so cheerfully optimistic.
Carter’s friend, Eric, opened the door. The tantalizing aromas of meatballs, fresh baked bread, and cinnamon strudel reminded Beth of a trip to Grandma’s house on a Sunday afternoon. She adored the Pearsall family from the first moment Carter introduced them. Especially Maggie, the plain but very feminine mother of a six-year-old, with her light brown hair, a smattering of freckles across her pert little nose, and a welcoming smile. She made Beth feel right at home. Eric was more reserved but friendly enough, and their six-year-old son, Calvin, with his curly brown hair and big brown eyes was the perfect picture, in Beth’s mind, of a healthy first-grader.
“Lead me to the table,” Carter commanded as he tilted his head and sniffed the air.
“You can pacify yourself with dip and crackers.” Maggie pointed to the coffee table where a colorful display of hors d’oeuvres had been spread out. “Dinner should be ready in twenty minutes.”
While Carter helped himself to artichoke dip, Beth followed Maggie into the old-fashioned kitchen. “May I help?”
“Thanks, but you just sit on that stool.” Maggie gestured to a seat at the end of the island. “I wouldn’t want you to spill anything on your dress.”
Beth glanced down at her simple black frock. All of her wardrobe, purchased before she moved out on her own, was costly. On her current salary, she dreaded the time when she’d need replacements. “I could wear an apron. I love to cook.”
“You do?” said a masculine voice from behind her.
Beth turned and saw Carter framed in the doorway. He chuckled, “I’d never have envisioned you at home in the kitchen.”
“Carter! What a terrible thing to say,” Maggie scolded.
Carter moved toward the refrigerator. He opened the door and retrieved a cool bottle of water. “You should see the house Beth grew up in. There are servants of every shape, size, and description.”
“True,” Beth admitted. “But Dora, our generous-hearted cook when I was a little girl always welcomed me into her kitchen. She taught me how to bake cookies, stuff poultry, and skillfully flip an omelet before I was ten years old. For a brief time, I thought I wanted to become a chef. Father enrolled me in a well-known culinary school. However, I quickly discovered that becoming a gourmet cook is more than roasting a bird. It requires an obsession with food.”
Eric sauntered into the kitchen. “Why is it that our guests always gravitate toward this room?”
“I was thirsty,” Carter explained.
“I was invited,” Beth countered playfully.
Maggie laughed. “I thought it was my magnetic personality.”
The doorbell rang. Maggie and Eric exchanged meaningful glances. Looking slightly uncomfortable, Maggie said, “Oh, dear! Beth, I fear I owe you an apology. If I had known you were coming...”
The bell sounded a second time. Eric said, “Look, we are all adults. We might as well tell them straight out. This is no big deal, but two weeks ago when we thought Carter would be staying with us, Maggie extended the invitation to include one of her friends. She invited Miss Donavon to come as our dinner guest tonight, in hopes she and Carter might hit it off.”
Beth tried not to let the horror show on her face as the realization dawned upon her that she had just become the fifth wheel on a blind date.
Carter’s instant snicker soon progressed into a full-blown belly laugh. Maggie giggled and covered her mouth. When the doorbell sounded persistently a third time, Eric chuckled and then turned away and headed to the door.
Beth felt like a big rock in a very shallow pond.
Carter could hardly control himself, and when he heard the female voice coming from the other room, he leaned over the counter and laughed so hard he had to wipe tears from his face.
Everyone appeared to find the moment hilariously funny. Everyone, that is, except Beth.
Candice Donavon was a knockout with almond-shaped eyes and full copper-colored lips that matched her short, tight dress. She had long, blonde hair and a voluptuous figure that reminded Beth of one of those popular advertisements for suntan products.
Beth sat stiffly on the other side of the dinner table and tried not to stare. “So what do you do, Candice?” Beth made a strained attempt at polite conversation.
She snorted. “Please, all my friends call me Candy. I’m a dental hygienist.” Candice’s nasal twang brought Beth’s eyebrows to the top of her forehead.
So that would explain the perfect smile.
Beth turned to the child seated beside her and talked to the well-behaved youngster, asking him questions about his school, his friends, and what games he preferred. As the boy responded, Beth’s mind wandered. She listened to Candice’s nonstop conversation. For the duration of the meal, the blonde entertained the men on either side of her with humorous anecdotes featuring her patients.
Beth preferred Maggie as a conversationalist. The two women swapped cooking stories and favorite recipes as Beth longed for the moment when the evening would end. She wondered what she should do when the meal was over.
“Calvin, did you say you liked to play cards?” Beth asked.
“Uh huh. Go Fish is my favorite.”
“I haven’t played that game in a long time. When we finish dinner, perhaps we could play together?”
His big brown eye grew wide. “Can we, Mom?” He looked to his mother.
Maggie gave Beth a knowing, sympathetic look while nodding her consent.
When dessert finally arrived and the remainder of the adults lingered over coffee, Beth allowed Calvin to lead her into the living room.
While he went to fetch his game, Beth cleared the coffee table. For the next hour, the two sat on the floor and played. They graduated from Fish to Chinese checkers and finally to Battleship. The child was polite, considerate, and very bright, forcing Beth to apply herself — especially difficult since her attention kept straying to the conversation in the dining room. From time to time, she could hear Carter’s laugh, which was immediately drowned out by sounds of Candy’s screeching laughter.
The foursome finally drifted into the living room, and Maggie advised Calvin it was past his bedtime. Beth felt both relief and reluctance to see him leave. When the little boy wrapped his arms around her neck in a spontaneous hug, catching her off guard, Beth found it surprisingly difficult to keep moisture from her eyes.
Maggie led Calvin off to bed, and Beth peeled herself from the floor. Walking stiffly around the room, she feigned interest in family photographs and wondered what she should do next. She made the circle, returned to the group, and found Eric seated in his recliner. Carter, she discovered, was on the sofa with Candy so close beside him that whenever she crossed one long, shapely leg, she managed to rub her limb against his.
Beth sat down across from them.
“Did you say your name was Ashton?” Candice asked, looking quizzically at Beth.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I once had a patient named Ashton! That famous racecar driver, Peter Ashton. Is he any relation?”
Beth’s eyes slid toward Carter. He held her gaze. When Beth took a deep breath of resignation, Carter quickly inserted, “Beth doesn’t know him.”