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“I have to start fixing things with him, Francie. I'll take it easy. Just a couple of minutes.”
She had grown tough over the years; she'd had to. But now when she needed that toughness the most, all she could do was visualize a little boy shoving peas under his baked potato. “Just for a few minutes,” she conceded. “That's all.”
“Great!” He sounded as exuberant as a teenager. “That's just great, Francie.” And then, quickly, “After I see Teddy, I'll take you out for a bite of dinner.” Before she could open her mouth to protest, he had hung up.
She put her head down on the desk and groaned. She didn't have a spine; she had a strand of limp spaghetti.
By the time the doorman buzzed her on Tuesday evening to announce Dallie's arrival, Francesca was a nervous wreck. She had tried on three of her most conservative outfits before she'd rebelliously settled on one of her wildest—a mint green satin bustier set off by an emerald velvet miniskirt. The colors deepened the green of her eyes and, in her imagination at least, made her look more dangerous. The fact that she was probably overdressed for an evening with Dallie didn't deter her. Even though she suspected they would end up in some seedy dive with plastic-covered menus, this was still her city and Dallie would have to be the one to fit in.
After fluffing her hair into casual disarray, she draped a pair of Tina Chow's crystal pendants around her neck. Although she had more faith in her own powers than in the mystical ones of Tina Chow's fashionable necklaces, she decided that she shouldn't overlook anything that would help her get through what
could only be a difficult evening. She knew she didn't have to go to dinner with Dallie—she didn't even have to be here when he arrived—but she wanted to see him again. It was that simple.
She heard Consuelo opening the front door, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She forced herself to wait in her room for a few minutes until she felt calmer, but only ended up making herself more nervous, so she walked out to the living room to greet him.
He was carrying a wrapped parcel and standing by the fireplace admiring the red dinosaur that hung above it. He turned at the sound of her approach and gazed at her. She noted his well-cut gray suit, dress shirt with French cuffs, and deep blue tie. She had never seen him in a suit, and unconsciously she found herself waiting for him to start pulling at the collar and unknotting his tie. He did neither.
His eyes took in the little velvet miniskirt, the green satin bustier, and he shook his head in admiration. “Damn, Francie, you look better in hooker clothes than any woman I know.”
She wanted to laugh, but it seemed more prudent to fall back on sarcasm. “If any of my old problems with personal vanity ever crop back up, remind me to spend five minutes in your company.”
He grinned, then walked over to her and brushed her lips with a light kiss that tasted vaguely of bubble gum. The skin on the side of her neck prickled with goose bumps. Looking squarely into her eyes, he said, “You're just about the prettiest woman in the world, and you know it.”
She moved quickly away from him. He began looking around the living room, his gaze drifting from Teddy's orange vinyl beanbag chair to a Louis XVI mirror. “I like this place. It's real comfortable.”
“Thank you,” she replied a little stiffly, still trying to take in the fact that they were face to face again and that he seemed a lot more at ease than she. What were they going to say to each other tonight? They had absolutely nothing to talk about that wasn't either controversial, embarrassing, or emotionally explosive.
“Is Teddy around?” He passed the wrapped parcel from his left hand to his right.
“He's in his room.” She saw no sense in explaining that Teddy had thrown a fit when she'd told him that Dallie was coming over.
“Do you think you could ask him to come out here for a minute?”
“I—I doubt that it'll be that easy.”
A shadow fell over his face. “Then just show me which room is his.”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded and led him down the hallway. Teddy was sitting at his desk idly pushing a G.I. Joe jeep back and forth.
“What do you want?” he asked, as he looked up and saw Dallie standing behind Francesca.
“I brought you a little something,” Dallie said. “Sort of a late Christmas present.”
“I don't want it,” Teddy retorted sullenly. “My mom buys me everything I need.” He pushed the jeep over the edge of the desk and let it crash to the carpet. Francesca shot him a warning look, but Teddy pretended not to notice.
“In that case, why don't you just give these to one of your friends?” Dallie walked over and laid the box on Teddy's bed.
Teddy eyed it suspiciously. “What's in there?”
“It might be a pair of cowboy boots.”
Something flickered in Teddy's eyes. “Cowboy boots? Did Skeet send them?”
Dallie shook his head.
“Skeet sent me some other stuff,” Teddy announced.
“What stuff?” Francesca asked.
