Scarlet Woman

“Yes, sir…I mean, Blake.”

His laughter followed her rapidly retreating figure, a cleansing release that he’d needed and needed badly. With luck, Lacy Morgan would consider herself insulted. Now, if he could just straighten out the rest of his life that easily. Not a chance. He grabbed his briefcase, got in his car, and drove to the Patapsco River where the swiftly moving water never failed to soothe him. He looked at the late-day sun, slowly dying, its rays filtering through the leaves of the oak and beech trees that towered in the distance. A light, fresh breeze frolicked against his body, cooling and refreshing it. Pretty soon it would be night and, as on every other night, he’d be all by himself. He took his cell phone out of his briefcase, pulled air through his front teeth, shrugged, and put the phone away. He didn’t want to hear any voice but hers.

Chapter 3

“Who is it?” Melinda called downstairs to Ruby when she heard the doorbell.

“Uh, it’s…Mr…. What did you say your name was?”

“Humphrey. Jonas Humphrey.”

“Jonas Humphrey, ma’am.”

Now, who could that be? She knew Prescott’s few associates, or thought she did. During the last two years, Blake had been their only visitor. But after that bombshell Blake had dropped about her late husband’s finances, she couldn’t be sure about anything concerning Prescott. She kicked off her bedroom shoes, stuck her feet in a pair of loafers, and went downstairs.

“I don’t think we’ve met, Mr. Humphrey. What can I do for you?”

“Well, miss—” he looked around, shifting his gaze from place to place as if appraising the room’s appointments “—could we sit down, perhaps? I’d like a soda or anything cold, if you don’t mind.”

She knew a shifty look when she saw it, and she wasn’t going to be taken in by this interloper. “Would you please tell me why you’re here?” she asked the man. Around forty or forty-five years old, she supposed, he projected self-confidence, though she wouldn’t have credited him with a right to it.

She leaned against the piano and trailed the fingers of her left hand rapidly over the bass keys in a show of impatience. “Well?”

He cleared his throat and looked approvingly at the Steinway grand. “I don’t suppose you know it, but my beloved Heddy passed on about six months ago, and I find the burden just too heavy to bear. When your dear father was preaching night before last, it came to me clear as your hand before you that he was leading me straight to you. I own a little shop down at the end of Main Street.” He took a card from his pocket, handed it to her, and she read Humphrey’s Firewood. “It’s not much, but everybody around here needs wood.”

Where was this leading? “What does all that have to do with me?” she asked him, though she’d begun to guess the answer.

“Reverend Jones said a woman shouldn’t be alone, that she needs a man’s protection. I’m sure he taught you that from childhood. Well, since we’re both alone, and…well, I thought we might get together. I see you like music. I do, too.” He sat down and crossed his knee, though she remained standing. “I got all the records Sister Rosetta Thorpe and Hank Williams ever made. I had one by Lightnin’ Hopkins, but my dear beloved smashed it one day when she got mad with me. God rest her soul.”

She’d had enough. More than enough, in fact. “Mr…er…Humphrey, did you say your name was? I am not interested in getting married. Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d excuse me.” She called Ruby. “Would you please let this gentleman out? And, Ruby, don’t let anybody else in here unless you know them.”

The door closed, and Ruby called up to her. “All right, ma’am. He said he knowed Mr. Rodgers. I’m telling you some of these mens is the biggest liars.”

Had her father put that man up to proposing to her? She sat down and telephoned him.

“Jonas Humphrey?” he asked her, a tone of incredulity in his voice. “You mean that thief down on Main Street? Why, he’d steal a cane from a blind man. Of course I didn’t send him over there. You watch out, girl, because they’ll be hearing about that will. Not that it would hurt you to get married. A woman shouldn’t be alone—”

She’d heard that a hundred times already. “Sorry, Papa, but I have to go. Talk to you again soon.”

“All right, but you come to prayer meeting tomorrow night.”

She dressed and rushed to meet Rachel at Side Streets Restaurant. The historic old mill pleased her more than the wonderful seafood served there. Its quaintness gave her a sense of solidness, of permanence. They had barely seated themselves when Ray Sinclair entered with his latest girlfriend. In her single days, she’d been enamored of Ray, but he had ignored her, often seeming to make a point of it. The day he stepped in front of her and got into the taxi she’d called, her affection for him dissipated like chaff in a windstorm. But on this occasion, he seated his date, left her at the table, and walked over to speak with Melinda.

“Terribly sorry to hear of your great loss, Melinda. If I can do anything to help, just snap your fingers.”

She leaned back in the booth and spoke with dispassion. “I don’t need anything, Ray. My husband provided well for me and, if he hadn’t, I provide well for myself. Nice seeing you.”

Rachel’s eyes seemed to have doubled in size. “Why’d you dust him off like that? He’s the most eligible man around here. If that doesn’t beat all—”

Melinda threw up her hands. “When I had a crush on him before I got married, he flaunted it, showed me as often as he could that he thought himself too good for me. Now he wants to know what he can do for me. I guess he’s been listening to all the gossip, or maybe he’s heard about the will. That poor girl he’s got with him is welcome to him.”

She’d hardly walked into her house when her phone rang. Ruby had left for the day, so she waited for the voice on her answering machine.

“I was wondering if you might like to go with me down to Lake Kittamaqundi for the Fourth of July celebration. It’s nice and casual. Give us a chance to get reacquainted.”

Why was she supposed to recognize his voice? She did, but he didn’t need to know that. “Who is this?” she asked.

“This is Ray,” he said, obviously crestfallen.

“Now let me see, hmmm. I’ll have to let you know.”

“We’ll have a good time. I’ll order a picnic basket, some wine, and…Listen, we’ll do it up big.”

“Are we still talking about watching kids shoot marbles and dogs play catch down by that lake?”

“Uh…well, there’s the fireworks, you know. Anyhow, I’ll call in a day or so to see what you decided. I’m glad you’re going. It’ll be great.”

It wouldn’t hurt him to hope; he might recall the many times he’d let her hope and pray, and all to no avail. Of all the men in Ellicott City, Ray Sinclair was least likely to get a second glance from her.

If she were certain of the reason for his sudden interest, she might be amused, but she remembered Luther Williams’s insulting suggestion, the awful accusation that had brought her into Blake’s arms, and she no longer felt like playing games with Ray. Who knew what he’d heard or what he wanted? Tomorrow, she’d work on that foundation, much as she hated doing so. But the sooner she finished it and got out of Ellicott City, the happier she’d be.

He knew it was a dead giveaway, opening the door before she’d hardly had time to ring the bell, but the entire day had been one long wait for three-thirty.

“Hi.” He meant it to sound casual, and he hoped it did, but he didn’t feel one bit nonchalant about her. “Ready to tackle that list?” he asked, mostly to remind her, if not himself, that they were together for business and not social purposes.

“That’s why I’m here. Whether I’m ready for it is something else.” She was looking directly into his eyes as if searching for something important. It wasn’t a stare, more like an appraisal. Or a question, as if she didn’t really know him and wanted answers about him.

And she was getting to him, too, so he made light of it. “I don’t have crumbs around my mouth, do I?”

The back of her right hand moved slowly over his left cheek in a gentle, yet astounding caress. “Your mouth is perfect. Let’s tackle the mayor first.”

“What do you mean by that?”

She threw her briefcase on the sofa and walked away from him in the direction of his desk. “I mean the mayor will probably be difficult, so let’s call him and get it over with.”

He caught up with her and stopped her with a hand on her right shoulder. “Baloney. You know I wasn’t talking about the mayor. You walk in here, make a suggestive remark, caress me, and then stroll off as if all you’ve done is toss a piece of paper into the wastebasket.” He pushed back his rising irritation. “Honey, you play with me, and you will get burned as sure as night follows day.”

She stepped away from him. “Oh, for goodness’ sake. I was just being pleasant.”

He imagined that his face expressed his incredulity; he refused to believe she didn’t know a come-on from a pleasant pat. “Pleasant? Yeah. Sure. And I’m standing in the middle of the Roman Forum.”

“Oh, don’t make such a hullabaloo over a simple, friendly gesture. If you wanted to hear some real corn, you should have been in on the conversations I had with two would-be suitors today.”

His head snapped up. “Who? You mean—”

“One guy proposed marriage, and the other one’s an egotist who thinks all he has to do is phone me. Biggest laugh I ever got.”

She could see the perspiration on his forehead, and he knew it, but he couldn’t do a thing about it. He couldn’t even reach for his handkerchief, because she’d glued her gaze on him. He laid his head to one side and decided to go for broke.