“If he’s busy, I can come back later.”
Ruth shoved her glasses higher up on her nose. “No. I think he’d rather you waited.”
Somehow Rebecca had known Ruth would say that. Sinking into one of four burgundy upholstered chairs arranged around a small coffee table, she selected a women’s magazine from the pile at her disposal and started thumbing through it. She noticed right away that it featured a horoscope, but she purposely flipped past it. She’d heard enough about her Zodiac sign. She was marrying Buddy whether he had strong passions or not.
She read the latest Hollywood gossip, pulled out a perfume sample and rubbed it on her arm—lightly floral, pretty—and studied the hairstyles. Then she came across an article titled: “Long Distance Relationships: How To Make Them Work.”
The phone rang. Rebecca looked up as Ruth answered, heard her say, “Of course, Mr. Balough, I’ll put you right through,” and figured it might be a while before her father was free. So she settled back to read.
The article talked about the growing incidence of divorce and cited the Internet as one of the possible causes. People were meeting and marrying without really knowing each other, it said. But she knew Buddy. They’d been engaged for several months and, while they hadn’t spent much time in each other’s presence, they’d certainly communicated a lot over the phone and through e-mail.
Still…Rebecca bit her lip and glared at the discouragingly high divorce rate. She’d been so intently focused on getting married and moving away, she’d never thought much about what might happen if her marriage to Buddy failed. She’d always told herself they’d make it work somehow.
What if she was wrong? What if his mother drove her crazy and he always took his mother’s side? Or he clung more tightly to a dollar than she could tolerate? She’d seen suggestions that they were significantly different in such areas, but that didn’t necessarily mean these differences would ever develop into serious marital problems…
A compatibility quiz followed the article but, after last night, Rebecca was almost afraid to take it. How dependable could it be? What if it told her she and Buddy were incompatible and steered her toward someone tall and blond and confident—someone with enough sexual energy to light up the entire east coast?
The door of her father’s office opened and he stepped out.
Rebecca quickly set the magazine aside. She and Buddy didn’t need a compatibility test. She already knew they were perfect for each other.
“Come on in,” he said and moved out of the way so she could pass him.
Ruth studied them over the rim of her glasses, probably as surprised by the formal note in his voice as Rebecca was, but she didn’t say anything.
Rebecca followed her father inside, and he shut the door before crossing to his desk. “Have a seat.”
She glanced at her watch, wishing now that she hadn’t waited for him. His strange calm didn’t bode well. It promised to make her regret coming here. She should’ve gone to lunch, instead. “I only have another ten minutes or so. Fanny Partridge is coming for a perm at one,” she said, preparing her escape before sitting on the edge of a burgundy-upholstered chair.
He didn’t answer. He claimed his tufted leather chair behind his desk, steepled his fingers and stared at her.
She waited for whatever it was he had to say, feeling uncomfortable beneath his unswerving gaze. “What?” she finally said.
“You’re an adult now, Rebecca.” His voice was still surprisingly calm. “I can no longer tell you what to do.”
“I realize that,” she said. She thought he’d taken a little long to arrive at that conclusion, however.
“But I can tell you that getting involved with Booker Robinson is a mistake.”
“Booker and I are only friends, Dad.”
“He’s a bad seed. He’s always been a bad seed.”
Rebecca tucked her hair behind her ears, and wondered if the perfume she’d put on in the lobby was making her sick. It suddenly seemed cloying, overpowering. “Not to worry. I’m getting married soon.”
“Does Buddy know about your new living arrangement?”
“Of course.”
“And he’s okay with what you’re doing?”
“Yes. It’s only temporary.”
Her father rolled away from his desk and stood. Placing one hand against the large window that flooded his office with sunlight, he looked out, presumably at the carefully manicured grounds below. “I tell you, Rebecca, you’ve just about been the death of me. I don’t know how much more I can take.”
She made no comment.
“It’s always something, isn’t it?” he went on. “Your sisters were easy to raise. Even the other kids on the street, Josh and his brother, have turned out to be responsible, dependable adults.” He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know where we went wrong with you. We certainly tried to teach you the right things.”
Rebecca squeezed her hands together in her lap. “Maybe I’m like Booker,” she said. “Maybe I’m just a bad seed.”
Straightening, he sighed. “Maybe so. In any case, your mother’s really counting on this wedding. She thinks, once you’re married, everything’ll be fine. So don’t do anything to screw it up, okay? Can you do us this one favor, Rebecca?”
Rebecca thought of Buddy’s postponement and felt a stab of foreboding. Her parents would blame her because she’d moved in with Booker. Or they’d say it was her temper that had caused Buddy to shy away.
She opened her mouth to tell her father and get it over with, but she remembered their anniversary party and hesitated. If she told him now, she’d start a ripple effect that would ruin the whole celebration.
She couldn’t do that. What difference would twelve days make, anyway? They could blame her after the party as easily as before.
“I’ll do my best,” she said and walked out.
WHEN REBECCA RETURNED to Hair And Now, Katie handed her a key.
“Josh Hill dropped this by.”
Rebecca stared at her palm. It was the extra key to her storage unit. After what he’d done, she’d never dreamed Josh would dare show his face at the salon today. She’d assumed he’d mail her the key, give it to her parents or wait for her to show up and demand it. The fact that he’d risked a face-to-face confrontation showed her just how brazen he was.
“He has some nerve,” she replied.