17

 

"I figured you'd be tired and hungry after spending all weekend at that crafts show," said Doug.

"Ah, that's so nice of you.  I'm starving and too tired to move."

Doug walked into the house and Annabeth followed him into the kitchen where he set down some fried chicken and a big salad.  "I knew you'd have cookies."  They sat silently eating, comfortable together until Doug asked, "Show a success?"

Annabeth nodded, "Yes, it's going very well.  Only thing I didn't sell is this."  She held up an old wooden mug painted with flowers.  "Well, I sold a dozen similar ones."

Doug shook his head, reaching for the piece.  "It's so pretty too.  It's amazing how you can take old junk and turn it into art."  He glanced down at the mug then commented, "Great for pencils or cooking stuff in the kitchen.  I'll buy it.  How much?"

Annabeth laughed.  "Take it!  You think I could charge you money?"

"Nope, I'm a paying customer or nothing.  I made you pay for your car, didn't I?"

"Okay then, five bucks."

Doug shook his head, "You'll never make a profit that way.  How about fifty?"

"Are you nuts?  Make it ten."

"I'd like to see more of your work.  But I still say you should be painting on canvases."

"I have photos of everything, you know."  Doug followed Annabeth upstairs and sat on her bed as she pulled sheaves of photos from her drawer.  They leaned forward then, each lying on one side and looked at all the photos, spread on the bed between them.

"It's just amazing," commented Doug.  "You're so talented.  Charming little scenes.  Don't get mad at me here, but it's such a waste to be painting on this old junk.  Not that it's not adorable or whatever, but still I think it's a waste.  Unworthy of your talents."  Annabeth remained silent, thinking what a good friend he was as Doug reached under a couple of photos and removed the Glamour Poses shots.  "Look at these!"

Annabeth blushed, "Goodness!  I forgot those were there.  Give them to me."  She reached to snatch the photos but Doug held them away from her so he could view them.

"Don't be silly.  I want to see them.  Aren't you gorgeous!"  Doug took a long time, examining each photo carefully, seeing each detail as he did in every part of life and then he glanced casually at Annabeth, who blushed each time, then back to the photos.  Annabeth, feeling as though she had never before been seen so completely was nervous, although she didn't know why.  Doug remained silent for a long time, just looking at the photos and then at Annabeth, then he said in a voice that was very quiet, "Could I have one of these?"

She only replied, "Sure," but the way his request had touched her was reflected in the tenderness on her face. 

They looked deeply into each other's eyes, heat and understanding passing between them, each wishing the other would come another step closer until Doug broke the tension by saying, "I see you've finally lured me up here into your bed."

Back in familiar territory, Annabeth smiled, saying confidently, "Yes, and you're at my mercy now."

Doug laughed sardonically, then leaning up, pressed her flat against the bed, his hands on her shoulders, his lips inches from her own as he spoke, "Don't you ever think that.  Right now you're wondering, 'Will he do it?  Can't I just give in? I want it so bad.  I want him so bad.'"

About to nod and agree, Annabeth took a deep breath.  She looked intently into Doug's eyes and saw him smiling at her.  Instead of the usual taunting, the tests that she knew he gave to help her learn to take charge, there was something else in his eyes. What was it?

Doug loosened his hold on her and sat up, reached for her hand and helped her to an upright position, then they both stood, and he held her in his arms for just a moment.  "You need to rest now," he said.

"Um, Doug?"  He looked deeply into her eyes, waiting for Annabeth to continue.  "Are you coming for Christmas dinner next week?"

"Am I invited?"

"Silly!  Of course you're invited."

Doug paused a moment before answering.  "Do you think I'm a terrible father?  Not going to see my kids on Christmas.  They both have plans already.  Betsy with her in-laws and Philip with his mother.  They don't even mind I'm not coming.  Must be my fault."

"I could never think you're terrible at anything, Doug.  Are you upset you're not included in their Christmas?"

He nodded, then looked into her eyes, "I'm upset, but I'm glad I'm included in yours.  Oh--there's this guy--leased a lot of cars--invited me to a New Year's party.  I said I'd get back to him.  I know it won't be much fun, but would you come with me?"

"Why won't it be fun?"

"Dunno--business thing.  You don't have to if you don't want to."

"What about Patsy?"  Annabeth held her breath as she asked this question, not knowing why she was so apprehensive about what the answer might be.  "Won't she want you with her then?"

"I broke up with her a while back."

"What happened?  I mean if you want to tell me."

"It wasn't very dramatic at all.  I just realized it was never going to amount to anything.  It was just a fling.  Just fun, casual, and I told her.  She was upset, I guess, but nothing too bad."

"No woman could lose you without being upset." 

"The thing I liked about her was that she was easy."

"A slut like me?"

Doug laughed.  "No, I mean she was easy--I knew she'd never reject or hurt me.  She was safe."  Once again he looked deeply into her eyes, searching for something Annabeth couldn't identify, then Doug hugged her, holding her for just a bit too long.  "So you'll come with me?"

"Sure I will!  It's the first New Year's date I've ever had!"

Later Annabeth lay back on her bed, counting her money from the show and thinking about the evening she'd spent with her old friend.  Wasn't it sweet of him to ask for her photo.  And he was so shy in doing it, too.  R.J. would never have done that.  In all the years of their marriage he'd never had a photo of her in his wallet or on his desk and it had never occurred to Annabeth to give him one.  And that look in Doug's eyes.  Had she seen it before?

The next morning, she was back at work in the attic, digging through a pile of boxes containing her old art materials.  The extra brushes and paints she set aside to bring downstairs, but at the bottom of the box was the catalog for the New Orleans Art Institute and wedged inside it was an application which was only partially completed. 

Look at this!  And this!  The classes!  New Orleans, me in a big city, just like a grown up.  These kids are real artists.  Mr. King saying "No, look," drawing on my picture, silly, try to do it his way.  My pictures aren't real art, he said that.  But that was a long time ago.  Wish they had art in school, another teacher to ask.  More teachers in New Orleans.  I could learn to be a real artist.  Maybe I could.  Dad.  Ask Dad.

"Dad, um, Dad?"  He's busy reading papers, always busy.  Tapping his shoulder, sitting down on the ottoman in front of his chair.  "Dad."  I shouldn't be bothering him, his work's too important.  Looking up at me, finally.  "Um, Dad I was thinking after high school, maybe I could go to art school.  Like college but art.  See, New Orleans, not too far."

"What?"  Dad looking worried.  Must be too expensive.  "Art school?  All the way to New Orleans?  Who'll take care of the kids?"  Dad looking off into the distance, faraway look.

"I thought I could learn to be a real artist."

"Aren't you just going to get married some day?  Be a mother and a wife?"

Nodding at Dad, of course I'll get married, be a wife, but still I could be…"

"Nothing to fall back on, art, not like you could fall back on that."

Annabeth tossed the catalog and application into the pile of things to discard and sat back thinking about her father.  It was then she'd decided to be a wife and mother, not something she'd wanted all her life.  It was her father's comments, plus her insecurity about being a real artist and that made her believe all she could be was a wife.  She paused for a moment, her mind empty of thoughts, her heart flooded with feelings and then she formed an opinion.  It was lousy of her father to do that, selfish.  He didn't even look at her; he never looked at her; he still didn't look at her.  He didn't even bother to handle the divorce himself.  She was glad.  Annabeth held her hand to her throat, then continued her train of thought, glad, yes glad.  Glad she'd run off with R.J. like that and showed her father.  Except…except…he still didn't give a damn.

Annabeth raced down the stairs, her feet gathering speed as she moved and she walked into the kitchen where the pile of paintings lay.  She paused a moment, took a deep breath, then lifted the pages, sheet by sheet, examining each one as though it were the first time she'd see them.  Slowly she poured over her work, stopping to note special details, searching for flaws until she'd reached the last sheet, then said aloud, "They are good.  They are."  She thought of Doug, telling her to paint on canvas, to stop wasting her talent on junk.  Then, taking another deep breath, she reached in a drawer for the phone number Becky had given her weeks ago and dialed the calendar company.

"Hello," she said, "I'm an artist and I'd like to submit some sketches for consideration for a calendar."  After noting all the details on a sheet of paper, Annabeth sat and thought.  Maybe they wouldn't want her sketches, maybe it wouldn't lead anywhere, but at least she had tried and it was a beginning.  She had done something difficult, had been courageous and Annabeth was proud of herself.  When the phone rang, she half expected it to be the calendar people calling to say yes, which of course was silly.  She hadn't even sent the sketches yet.

"Can you make me five pies this year instead of four?"  It was Julie.

"Julie, do you know how to bake a pie?"

"No, you always bake the pies."

"Well, it's time you learned.  Instead of me making the pies this year all by myself, I want you to come over here and help with them.  That way you can learn how to do it."

"I don't know if I'll have time."

"You'll have to make time, or there won't be any pies.  Besides, it can be a fun thing for us to do together."

"You're getting so bossy."

Annabeth laughed.  "We'll have fun."

She climbed back up to the attic then and finished sorting through the art materials and was ready to bring down a box of things she wanted to discard when an old steel filing box caught her eye.  Opening the top, Annabeth withdrew a number of papers, some having to do with her husband, some with Mother Welner.  "Look at this.  Hmm.  Look at this."  She stopped and carefully examined the papers, then placed them back in the box.  Could R.J. really have made that much money?  He always had a pocket full of cash.  Should she call her father about this?  What was the use of that?  She thought back to the conversation she'd witnessed between R.J. and his mother in the courtroom.  This must be what Mother Welner was so worried about.  No wonder.

Doug arrived early on Christmas morning, before Laurel was awake and way before the others were due to arrive.  He carried several bundles as well as some of his homemade biscuits and a ham he'd smoked himself the night before. 

"Don't you look like Santa Claus," Annabeth commented, smiling, "And me still in my robe."

"I wanted us to be alone so I could give you these."  After setting the food down, Doug lifted the other packages and followed Annabeth into her living room, where they both were seated on the sofa.  He set a medium-size package on the coffee table, topped by a smaller one.  And a huge parcel he held in front of her.  It was easily four feet square.  "Open this one," he commanded.

"Let me get yours first."  She rose, reached under the tree which sat in the front window and removed one large box, which she lifted with difficulty, and another smaller one. 

"Wow!" he said, filled with boyish excitement.  "I didn't expect anything at all.  Go on, you go first."

Annabeth smiled with anticipation, then tore into the wrappings covering the huge parcel.  It was filled with blank canvases in an assortment of sizes.  She grinned, sighed, bit her lip, then reached to hug Doug.  "This is great.  I was planning to take your advice you know."

"Well, I know artists really stretch their own, but I figured these would be a start and you wouldn't have to do any work before you got going.  Now open that box right there--it's part of this gift."

Annabeth obeyed, revealing a tool-kit type box filled with tubes of paint in every color.  Her eyes opened wide.  "Oh Doug!"

"I didn't know if you wanted oil or acrylic, so we can change these if they're wrong."

"They're perfect.  Oh thank you!  Now you open that box."

"Wow, heavy!"  Doug hoisted the box easily, noting its weight.  He marveled as he unwrapped it, "Look at this.  Oh!" 

"I had Rum build it."

"For my baseballs.  It's perfect."  It was a natural maple cabinet, polished to a high luster and containing several shelves on which the baseballs would fit perfectly.  Glass doors closed tightly, keeping the inside dust-free.  "But you didn't paint on it."

"I didn't want to do it in case you'd rather have it plain, but…"  Annabeth rose and pulled a panel from behind the Christmas tree.  She removed the pull out shelves and neatly fit the panel in place.  It contained scenes from great moments in baseball.

"Will you look at that!  Babe Ruth.  Hank Aaron."  Doug shook his head in amazement.

Annabeth looked sheepish for a moment.  "Research.  I didn't know who any of these guys were.  Had to get a book on it from the library."

Doug set the cabinet down gently then reached over and hugged Annabeth.  "It's the best present I ever got."

"Ah," she sighed with pleasure.

"Now you.  Open up that one."

"This is heavy too.  Weren't you the busy bee!"  Inside the wrapping was a box and in the box lay a black leather book.  "A big book?" she asked, lifting it out.  It had handles and a zipper which Annabeth opened.  "A portfolio!  It's wonderful!"  Then she saw what was inside it.  Blow ups of all her photos.  It was a portfolio of her work.  "Oh," she said, "Oh," pressing her hand to her throat and afraid to go on, lest she start to weep.  She reached that hand to Doug, squeezing his arm.  "Oh Doug.  It's so wonderful.  I just can't tell you what this means to me.  Thank you so much.  How did you get these anyway?" 

"Sally helped me."

"Look, you even have shots of the big pieces in the attic.  You're amazing."

Doug smiled, thrilled that she was so touched.   "There's this crafts gallery I know of in Atlanta.  I thought maybe you could go see them.  I mean I'd take you."

Annabeth nodded.  "Really?"

"Sure.  Anytime you want.  No more shows for a while, right?"  As Annabeth nodded, he continued,  "So craft galleries are a good idea."

"If my stuff is good enough.  I didn't have much luck with the gallery in New Orleans."

"Did you actually go see them?  With pictures I mean."

Annabeth shook her head.  "No."

"So what're you talking about.  Go see them!  Now can I open this one?"  Annabeth nodded and watched as he tore into his other box.  "Sexy," exclaimed Doug as he pulled out a navy silk bathrobe.

"You said you didn't have a robe."

Doug held the robe up to himself.  "What do you think?"

Annabeth pursed her lips as someone about to whistle or moan with pleasure aloud and said, "Gorgeous!"

"Really?"

Not realizing the question was sincere, she answered, "You bet."

"Oh," he said, "I almost forgot."  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small rectangular box which he offered to Annabeth.  "Had to get something personal."

Her mouth hung open as she saw what was in the box.

"You're always stroking your throat when you have a realization or are touched by something meaningful, so I thought you might enjoy having a special necklace there.  Called diamonds by the yard, though there are only three of them."

"Only three!  My God!  It's the most beautiful necklace I've ever seen."  It was a fine gold chain with three bezel-set diamonds evenly spaced within the links.  Annabeth held the necklace to her throat and then leaned toward Doug who fastened it for her.  She pressed her hand to her throat then, aware for the first time of the gesture and amazed that Doug knew it about her when she hadn't know it about herself.  "Oh!" she exclaimed, "I love it."  Instead of rising to go look in a mirror, she turned toward Doug, reaching in, expecting to kiss him for real at last but the moment their lips met, Laurel walked into the room, causing them to pull back away from each other.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas," replied Doug and Annabeth in unison.

The day grew busy then and Annabeth had to race upstairs to dress in a skirt that was much too loose, noting as she had often lately that her clothes were beginning to fall off of her.  There was no time to think about that however, because Doug was waiting downstairs and everyone was beginning to arrive.  There was a feast to prepare and family to entertain, gifts to give and to receive, eggnog, laughter and merriment to enjoy.  Annabeth glanced in the mirror as she raced out the bedroom door.  The diamonds at her throat sparkled.  Doug.  Wasn't he wonderful?

She raced around for the rest of the day and there wasn't a moment alone with Doug until he, the last to depart, was ready to walk out the door.  Annabeth walked out with him, waiting while he carefully placed his gifts in the car.  "It was a wonderful day," he said. 

She smiled.  "Thank you again.  I love my presents.  I've never had presents I've loved as much."

"I'm glad.  I love mine too."  Doug reached down and enveloped her in a long, warm hug, and Annabeth relaxed against him, holding him tightly to her.  When he loosened his grasp slightly, Annabeth looked up, gazing into his dark eyes that always twinkled so merrily.  She leaned in then, tilting her head upwards, reaching toward him, wanting the kiss that they'd missed earlier.  Doug, sensing that she was ready, at least for a first kiss, leaned down, his lips coming closer to hers.

"Mom, where is the tin foil?  Are we out?"  Laurel looked out the door, then spotting Annabeth in Doug's arms, said "Oops," and retreated hastily inside.

They both jumped then and pulled apart.  He leaned down and kissed her gently on the cheek, then said, "You're just angling to see me in that silk robe."

"No," she said, doing him one better and remembering a similar comment he'd made a few weeks earlier, "I want to see you without it."  Then they both dissolved in laughter until they had to cling to each other to stand up straight.

A few days later, after Laurel had gone back to New Orleans, Sally entered the house and yelled up to where her mother was working.  "Mom!  Can you come down here, please!"

Annabeth, hearing the panic in her daughter's voice, raced down the stairs and entered the kitchen where Sally sat at the table.  "You're drenched." 

"It just started to rain.  Nevermind that."

"What's wrong?"

"Daddy," said Sally.  "He gave me this," she placed six one-hundred dollar bills on the table.  "Said to make it do for the wedding.  Said he had some big deal cooking and couldn't spare any more cash."

"After you made all those plans.  The caterer.  The Woman's Club."

"Thank goodness I didn't put down a deposit on a dress.  Think we could have the wedding here--cheap I mean.  I could get a dress that's not bad at that place downtown."

Annabeth nodded, "We could do it."  Her blue eyes turned steely then, "But we're not going to.  Where's that list of everything?"

Sally pulled the list from her bag and handed it over.  "I don't know what we were thinking.  Daddy's idea to have a dinner buffet.  Flowers.  A cake.  Oh it's all so expensive.  What if we just had the family here?  I don't even need a wedding gown.  Just a waste of money."

Annabeth pressed her hand over her daughter's.  "This is what we're going to do.  You've already given a deposit on the Woman's Club, right?"

Sally nodded miserably.  "Maybe they'll give it back."

"And the caterer?"

"It's due this week.  They reserved the time for me, but I haven't paid yet."

"You take that money and pay off the Women's Club and give the caterer the deposit we discussed.  I'll cover the difference.  And New Year's Day we'll drive to New Orleans.  I have someone to see there anyway, and we can stay with Laurel for a few days.  We'll find you a nice gown there.  And I can get some new clothes too.  Everything I own is way too big now."  Annabeth continued as Sally's mouth hung open watching her act so determined, so in charge.  "I wish we could go sooner, but I have to be here for New Year's Eve."

"But Mom, you don't have any money.  I can't let you do that."

"I have plenty of money.  You're going to have a nice wedding."

"Maybe I could pay you back over time."

Annabeth squeezed Sally's hand.  "Don't be silly.  Now--is there anything else?  I want to finish that attic." 

Sally leapt up and hugged Annabeth tightly.  "Thanks, Mom.  You're the best."

Annabeth walked Sally to the door.  It was still pouring, but there was no sign of lightning.  "Drive carefully," she admonished, hugging Sally once again.

Her daughter gone, Annabeth once more climbed the stairs to the attic. The rain pounded against the roof, but there were no leaks.  The sound was strong but pleasant and the rhythms of the falling raindrops soothed Annabeth.  Glancing out the tiny window below the eaves, Annabeth watched the rain dance against the panes of glass for a long moment before turning back to the attic.  Instead of launching right into her work, she stopped and surveyed the scene.  It was nearly clean.  There was nothing there she didn't know about, and nothing she didn't need or want.  The debris was gone.  A big black garbage bag sat in an empty corner.  It contained only a few things, ancient maps belonging to R.J. and old diet books of hers.  Annabeth walked through the room.  It was orderly.  In it now were the treasures of the past, nothing she needed on a daily basis, yet nothing that should be discarded.  It was a good feeling.  She had tackled a mammoth task and had succeeded.

Annabeth walked to the huge table that now was no longer covered over with boxes.  She'd painted that the first year they'd been in the house.  But for one dent, its surface was smooth to her hand, the colors as vivid as ever, the designs as perfect as when she'd first created them.  Her eyes followed the designs, the swirls of color melting together as visions and sounds from the past rose up around her.

"Ma's buyin' us a table, a real table so we don't gotta use that ratty old thing."  R.J. talking, scowling, "Save this thing?  Looks like something a kid did."  R.J. slamming his beer down on the table she'd just finished, making a dent in the top.  "If only you were perfectly thin, like I am," her mother talking.  "I need," Julie whining.  "Pay attention to me," R.J. demanding.  "Nothing to fall back on," her father ignoring her.  "I want," Maggie taking.  R.J. demanding, cheating on her, being loved, not giving back.  Not a great lover, not much of a husband, nobody much at all.

Again and again the memories unfolded in her mind, tiny visions of scenes long past, emotions, still captured in her heart.  And as the scenes played out for one last time, the emotions emerged and Annabeth released them forever.  "I've been giving and sacrificing all my life.  It's time I took care of myself."  She stood quietly for a long time, thinking of what she'd said aloud to the empty room.  Why had she loved R.J. so much?  And then the realization hit her.  It wasn't because of R.J. that she'd loved him so, it was because of her, because that was the way she loved.  It said more about her than about him.  She was a loving person; she gave, and now it was time she gave some to herself.  And to people that deserved it, like the girls, like….  Life with R.J….so many excuses, year after year, loving and giving and starving with R.J..   Annabeth held her hand to her throat, and she felt the tiny diamonds nestled there, then spoke once more, "R.J. was never good enough for me.  I deserve better."  A rush like the wind from a thousand storms emerged from her heart, the truth, mingled with relief and self-awareness surged through her and at last Annabeth was in touch with everything that she had done, all she had lived, the people in her life and the life she had built when she was unaware of all the things she should have known, until this very moment.

Glancing once more out the tiny window, Annabeth noted that the rain had stopped.  A few drops left on the glass rolled down its slick surface and gathered in a glistening pool of water on the ground below.  Turning for the last time to the attic, Annabeth nodded.  "Good job," she said.  In one hand she grasped the garbage bag and in the other the metal filing box, and walking confidently, she moved out the door and all the way down the stairs to her comfortable kitchen.

The phone book was propped on a corner of the counter and Annabeth reached for it, flipped it open, easily located the number and dialed.  "Hello?  I want to make an appointment, please."  She paused a moment, then replied to the question asked of her.  "Divorce investigation."  She nodded although nobody could see her.  "Perfect," she agreed, "I'll see you in fifteen minutes."  Removing the pertinent documents from the filing box, Annabeth stashed them in her purse, grasped the bag of garbage, which she dropped in the can by her house, then drove downtown to the detective's office.

It was a one room affair, neat and brightly lit, with a desk, a chair, a huge filing cabinet, even a jar of candy on the desk.  "Looks nothing like a Bogart movie, does it?" asked Herb Midwood, smiling to put Annabeth at ease.  He was a medium-sized man of about fifty, and his hair was thinning.  He wore gold-rimmed glasses, but behind them his eyes were shrewd and clear.

"I found these papers in my attic.  I think my husband lied on the financial statement he handed in to the judge.  And maybe even on our taxes.  Could I get in trouble for that?"

Herb reach for the documents, then held up two hands in a calming gesture.  "Let's go over all the facts," he said confidently, reaching for a yellow legal pad.

An hour later, Annabeth left the detective's office, certain that he knew what he was doing and would be valuable.  She drove to the mall and wandered through it, knowing she needed to buy something for New Year's Eve.  There wasn't much of a selection in size sixteen, but maybe she could squeeze into a fourteen since she was now a little thinner.  Annabeth carried the few dresses that pleased her into a dressing room, stripped and tried on the first one.  She looked in the mirror in amazement, "It's huge!"  Then she stopped and actually looked at her face.  "I'm thinner.  Much thinner."  She dropped the garment to the floor then turned this way and that, examining her body.  "Look at that," she said.  Bending over, Annabeth lifted the dress from the floor.  It was the fourteen, not the sixteen!  Dressing hurriedly, Annabeth handed the large garments to the salesgirl, then returned to the racks again.  This time she selected some pieces from the twelves and tens and returned to the dressing room.  She slipped into one dress, a black velvet sheath with sheer sleeves and a scooped neck.  It fit perfectly.  "This is a ten!" Annabeth exclaimed.  Still a bit dazed, she paid for the dress, bought new underwear and stockings to go with it, then walked out to her car.

"Wow!" exclaimed Doug when he arrived to pick her up for the party.  He took her by the hand, turned her one way then another, and said again, "Wow!"

"It's your necklace that makes the dress," answered Annabeth shyly.

"It's you, not the dress."

Annabeth blushed, then said, "You look wonderful too.  So dashing in that dark suit."

"Not like an undertaker?"  Doug laughed.

They drove silently for a long time until Annabeth began telling Doug about Sally, the crisis, and the wedding plans.  "So we're going to New Orleans tomorrow.  Just a few days--Sally will have to be back at work."

Doug shook his head.  "R.J.," he said then stopped.

"You know I realized something.  My mother was critical and competitive--then dead.  Dad ignores everyone.  I married R.J. to shock Dad--did you know that?"

"Figured something like that.  Couldn't have been…" Doug stopped mid-sentence.

"And I loved him all those years, but he was never really good enough for me.  I just saw the good, maybe it was there, but there wasn't enough of it.  I just figured he was all I deserved."

Doug's eyes twinkled as he looked at Annabeth.  "That was a lot to realize.  Took courage to figure all that out.  I'm proud of you."

She smiled back at him, then reached for his hand.  "Thanks," she said  "It was partly because of all the talks with you that I was able to learn all this."

He squeezed her hand tightly, then pulled into a parking spot in front of a big house.  "This is it."

Doug introduced her around, then they mingled together for a couple of hours, enjoying conversation with a variety of people, very few of whom Annabeth knew, although some of the faces were familiar.  When, a bit before midnight, their host dragged Doug off for some business talk about leasing several more cars for his salesmen, Annabeth set aside her champagne flute and walked into the kitchen for a glass of ice water.

"Well, well, well," said Grady, lounging against the counter, an unlit cigarette in his hand. 

Annabeth tensed immediately upon hearing his voice.  The wolf whistle he let loose made her even more uncomfortable.

"Don't you look like hot stuff tonight," he said, winking at her.  He'd obviously been drinking.

Annabeth looked at the man before her, taking a deep breath and trying to maintain her poise.  What was it about him that unnerved her so?  He was tall and attractive, although there were lines at his eyes, a downturn by his mouth.  There was something in his eyes.  Taking her time, Annabeth looked carefully.  Who was he really? 

Grady took a couple of steps toward her as she scrutinized him.  He placed a hand on her shoulder, then said, "Say, I looked for you at Gleason's.  Wondered where you disappeared to.  Didn't know you'd track me down on New Year's Eve."  He glanced at his watch, "And just in time for a kiss too."

It was dissipation!  There was a look in his eyes--that he would try anything.  Desperation.  The best days of his life were long over and any thrill he could capture would be better than the future he could now envision, which was nothing more than the palest dilution of a past that Grady remembered as far more glorious than it had actually been.  This was a man who lived for his glory days, but even they were never that splendid.   At least R.J. lived for the future--not the past.  Annabeth was amazed that she'd deciphered all that from a short glance. 

"How about a little kiss for the New Year," he asked, almost plaintively.

"Excuse me," said Annabeth, no longer nervous at all.  She walked past Grady and out of the kitchen.  Where was Doug?  She scanned the faces in the living room.  No.  Where was he?  She remembered seeing him led off down a hallway and determinedly, she moved in that direction, but before she exited the living room he appeared.  Walking confidently, her eyes never leaving his face, Annabeth moved toward him and into his arms.  She tilted her face up toward his and smiled.  Reaching one arm up to his neck, she lay it gently against his hairline.  The other slid around his back, drawing him closer to her. 

Doug looked deeply into Annabeth's eyes, and they both smiled.  She stretched up on tiptoe, bringing her face closer to his, waiting for him to lean in a bit.  "Happy New Year," she whispered, parting her lips and never letting her gaze waver from his.  He reached down then and let his mouth close over hers, the kiss soft and long, sweet and tender, no urgency, just affection brought at last to its natural conclusion.  They stood together for a long time in that embrace, and when the New Year's siren went off, they continued kissing, the lights in the room like silver sparkles swirling around them.

"Happy New Year," he said, finally moving his lips a millimeter from her own.  Pulling herself tightly against Doug, Annabeth lingered there in his embrace, safe, warm and content.

They repeated that kiss at her door when he drove her home, then she said, "You're coming in, aren't you?"  He looked carefully at her.  Annabeth realized that he'd really wanted her all along, but had known she wasn't ready, that she had to make the first move.  She knew how to say no now, but she could also choose to say yes.  Annabeth opened the door and took Doug's hand, leading him to the stairs, when Sally yelled from the living room.

"Mom?  You home?"

Annabeth looked after the sound and saw Sally and Jackson seated on the couch.  Sally pointed to a small suitcase beside the couch.  "Thought we could get an earlier start if I stayed over.  Can Jackson stay too?"

Annabeth nodded, holding her hand up to indicate she'd be back in a moment, then she and Doug walked toward the front door together.

"Kid foiled your plans to have your way with me, didn't she?" he asked smiling, but his eyes never left her face.

"I'll be back in three days, maybe four," she said.

"Game for another trip when you get back?  To Atlanta, I mean."

Annabeth nodded.  She wondered then was he going to proposition her again or make a joke, but instead he reached down and kissed her, enfolding her in his arms tenderly.  She sank into his embrace, losing herself in the sweetness of his lips.  When he finally loosened his grasp, she reached up and touched his face tenderly, smiling deep into his eyes.

"Someone tried to make a little pass at me tonight," she confided, watching his eyes turn stormy.  "My head didn't even spin.  I just walked away.  I think I'm cured," she laughed.

"As long as you're not immune to me," he said.

"We'll see!"

His face a mask of mock indignation, Doug reached down and swatted her hard on the backside, the crackling of the sound muffled a bit by the velvet dress she wore. Annabeth gasped, causing him to laugh for a long time.  She looked at him openly, heat in her eyes, and he pressed her hard against the door, reaching down and kissing her with intensity and passion, and the flood of his longing flowed out of him and into her.  She swooned against him, her lips burning into his, then he let up, stepped back and smiled at her.

"Atlanta," he said, then he reached down and once more smacked her backside, causing her to lean limply against the door as he closed it behind him.