The Bride Wore Tie-Dye

Besides, he had the distinct impression that Melodie Allford defied categorization. “Can we go now?”

Amber was dancing from foot to foot. She had dutifully removed her shoes and glanced longingly into the play area. Joey stood just as eagerly at her side. He smiled indulgently. “Sure. You guys go ahead.”

Amber stopped in her tracks. “Aren’t you going in with us?”

“Not right now. I need to talk to Miss Melodie, remember?”

“You got plenny a time. Come on, Uncle Trenton. You promersed.”

Trenton looked at Melodie, giving her the chance to put in her two cents’ worth. She smiled wryly and shook her head, obviously seeing the uselessness of arguing.

“Maybe after pizza we can send them off alone,” Trenton suggested.

“One could always hope.”

He wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that, but Amber and Joey weren’t giving him time to dwell on it. Joey stuffed his shoes into a cubby before bringing a basket to the table for keys, loose change, cuff links and cellular phone. Amber was determinedly making a knot out of Trenton’s shoelace as she tried to “help,” but he didn’t have the heart to stop her just yet.

A look in Melodie’s direction as he rolled back his sleeves had him noting that she was still standing by the viewing window, but she was looking at him as though he were an experiment under glass. She kept glancing at his bare forearms, then his socks, then back at his face as if she couldn’t put a picture together.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked to break her concentration, glancing pointedly at her athletic shoes and then at her hip pouch.

She started. “Me? Oh, no, I’m not—”

“Come on, Miss Melodie,” Amber said, abandoning her uncle to run over and grab Melodie’s hand. “You gotta come with us or it won’t be no fun.”

“Any fun.”

“Right,” Amber agreed, the soul of reasonableness.

Trenton had finished the job Amber had begun and had moved over to her side. “You might as well give in. You know you can’t win.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Melodie put her hipsack in the locker and took the rear of the short line headed toward the nautical area. The “gangplank” led to a series of jungle gyms designed as ships. The ball bin had been done in blues and greens, and the climbing vines were thick, knotted ropes.

“Argh, maties, and welcome aboard,” an eye-patched attendant greeted them out of the side of his mouth as they stepped onto the deck. “I’ll be remindin’ ye to have fun, but be careful. The high seas are no place for high jinks, ya’ know.”

Melodie felt a tug at the hem of her shorts. “What are high gins?” Amber asked in a loud whisper.

The attendant went down on one knee and motioned Amber closer. Cautiously, Amber inched forward.

“High jinks, me wee lass, are things such as pushin’ and shovin’ while yer playin’, and running pell-mell without watchin’ where yer goin’.”

“Oh, we won’t do that,” Amber promised solemnly, shaking her head.

“All righty then, that’s a good lass. Now hurry aboard so’s I can get the lines cast off and we can set sail.”

* * *

Melodie didn’t know when she’d had so much fun.

Or been so confused.

She laughed herself silly when Amber and Joey engaged in a “water” fight with their uncle, showering him with brightly colored balls until he was buried to the neck. She clapped dutifully when Amber cried, “Watch me, watch me,” as she “walked the plank” and “splashed” into the “ocean.” Joey climbed the “rigging” like a monkey, taunting his Uncle Trenton to catch him if he could. Of course, Uncle Trenton gave a valiant effort, but was no match for the agile seaman Joey.

She felt the oddest tug in her stomach when Amber decreed that they were a family taken captive by awful pirates and were going to make a desperate escape through the “hold” of the ship. Amber bravely led the way through the plastic tunnels, twisting and turning through the maze. Melodie had a hard time keeping her mind on the game with Trent right behind her. She sighed when they finally reached the “escape hatch” and the foursome slid down the long slide one by one to end up in the “ocean” again.

The successful escapees finally returned to the “dock.” The adults slid into their chairs, and worked at restoring their breathing to normal. Melodie wanted to frown when she noticed that maybe it was just her who was out of breath, and she was in pretty good shape. Trenton was already fixing his cuffs and slipping his jacket back on. She tried to deny it, but she was disappointed. The afternoon had been fun. She didn’t want Trenton to return to being Perfect Man—Defender of Decorum, Protector of Protocol.

The miniature pirates, legs swinging wildly, began chanting, “Pizza! Pizza!”

The magic words brought a waitress to their sides.

“Good afternoon, and welcome to Kidstravaganza. My name is Veronica and I’ll be your hostess.”

Melodie was of the uncharitable opinion that Veronica’s too-sweet smile just might put her in a sugar coma. The thought was immediately followed by a frown. She was rarely catty, so she couldn’t figure out what had made her react that way. It surely couldn’t be the admiring glances being cast in Trenton’s direction. Admittedly, he looked incredibly attractive in his disheveled state, but even if Veronica was flirting with him, what did that matter to Melodie?

It didn’t matter at all, as a matter of fact. If Veronica the bimbo wanted to play goo-goo eyes with Trenton, then she could just knock herself out. Melodie refused to make a fool of herself for any man, especially one as unattainable as this rich lawyer guy. If she was on the hunt, which she most certainly was not, she knew better than to pick someone so completely opposite from her type. And Mr. Perfectly-Pressed-Suitand-Tie was definitely not her style.

Before she realized it, pizza and salad had been ordered without her input and Veronica was sashaying away.

“—hope that’s all right.”

“What?” she asked, trying to focus on Trenton’s words.

“I said, you didn’t say anything while I was ordering so I hope pepperoni pizza and a pitcher of cola is all right with you.”

“Yes, that’s fine. I would rather have had iced tea but that’s okay.”

His forehead furrowed. “I’m sorry. I’ll call her back-”

“No. That’s okay. It’s not worth the hassle.”

“Yes, it is, if that’s what you want. I should have gotten your attention sooner.”

A headache was building behind her right eye. “I said it was all right. We’re talking about a glass of tea here, not a new car.”

“Melodie—”

“For heaven’s sake! Does anyone ever argue with you?” she snapped as she pressed two fingers against her closed eye.

He was obviously taken aback.

“That’s what I thought. Look, Trenton the Valiant, if I was determined to have the stupid drink, I’d let you come to my rescue and reorder. So can we just drop it?”

“Certainly.”

A glance across the table told her she’d just insulted the man again.

She sighed. “I apologize. That was unfair. I know you don’t know me very well, but I’m not usually this grumpy.” In the time it had taken her to argue with him, the pain in her head had gone from a twinge to near agony.

He must have heard the sincerity in her voice for his body language changed immediately. “Please don’t give it another thought. I can see you’re not feeling well.”

“Are you all right, Miss Melodie?”

Melodie forced a smile for Amber’s sake. “I’m fine, sweetheart. My head just hurts a little bit.”

“Do you have a sperin?”

Trenton looked at Amber, frowning. “A what?”

“An aspirin,” Melodie supplied. “I have some medicine in my glove compartment. I’ll go get it in a minute.”

“I’ll collect it for you,” Trenton said as he stood. Joey had given him the key, and they had the locker open before Melodie could protest.

“It’s all right, really. I’ll go out in a minute.”

She had no intention of telling him she’d rather endure her headache than have him get a close-up look of her car. Right behind that thought came the taunt of: why should she care what he thought of her car? And on the heels of that came the brilliant final thrust of: she just did, that’s why.

Her protest proved unsurprisingly futile as she watched Trent leave the building. The children were quiet, their little faces serious.

She smiled again. “Hey, guys, I’m fine. Don’t look so glum. It’s just a little headache.”

The reassurance didn’t work. She didn’t get them to smile at her until Trent handed her the bottle of medicine and she swallowed a pill.

“See, all better.”

Freed from their concern, the kids dug into the newly arrived pizza. Melodie tried, but it would be a while yet before she could eat. More unnerving than the headache—which would dissipate as soon as the medicine hit her system—were Trent’s assessing glances over the table.

“Please don’t be concerned. I get these all the time. I’m feeling much better.” She couldn’t explain why she felt the urge to reassure him.

“I’m glad.” He looked at her again, his expression unfathomable. “You, Miss Allford, are a mass of incongruity.”

Surprise set her back in her chair. “What makes you say that, Mr. Laroquette?”

“I can’t read you very well, and that bothers me.”

“So is this a crime punishable by jail time, or merely a fine?” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“No crime, just a surprise.”

“Oh, good. I like surprises.”

He glanced at her sharply. “I don’t.”

“Really? Why?”

He studied her for a long moment but didn’t answer. She felt compelled to cover the silence.

“I guess I’m probably your worst nightmare, then. I’ve been told by more than one person that I absolutely defy logic.”

“I think that’s a female prerogative.”

“Oh! Already on to the sexist comments.”

“No, just a statement of fact. And I didn’t say it was a bad thing. It’s what makes women such wonderfully complex, stimulating creatures.”

Melodie knew she should be feeling the politically correct righteous anger that his statement ought to invoke, but somehow she knew that he meant it as a compliment. Her gut told her this man was a Southern gentleman. She’d bet her bottom dollar that he would treat any woman as his equal in the business world, but he still opened doors and held coats and walked dates to their doors. She personally felt there was room to be strong and still be feminine. The two were not mutually exclusive.

“I’m not the only incongruity around here,” she shot back, breaking out of her reverie.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re quite an enigma yourself.”

“So I guess we’re both intrigued.”

“Possibly, but I have to be honest and tell you that I feel you’re being coerced into including me on this project.”

“I—”

“Uncle Trenton, Joey’s sticking his tongue out.”

“Am not!”

“Are, too!”

“Hold it, guys,” Trenton interjected before an all-out brawl ensued. “What’s going on?”

Joey lowered his eyes to the table. “Nothing.”

“Uh-huh,” Amber argued. “He was bein’ gross.”

“Joey?” Trenton waited, a wealth of questions behind the simple name.

“I was just trying to be funny. She’s just a little ninny, that’s all.”

Ninny? Melodie wondered. She had no idea kids used the word ninny these days.

“Are you guys finished eating?” The two nodded. “Then why don’t you go play on the second playground.”

The two were off like bolts of lightning, and Trenton shook his head. “I just love those kids.”

“They are darlings, that’s for sure. Can I make a big leap here and assume they are the reason behind this video?”

“Part of it, certainly. My market research gives me hope that it will also be a lucrative project. It would be a nice addition to their trust funds.”

Melodie settled back and crossed her legs comfortably. “How did you get started in all this?”

“Their mother, who is my sister, is a radio/TV/film major at U.T. Bridgette has to do a video for a school assignment and she mentioned one day that she couldn’t find any good children’s exercise videos. We both just looked at each other.”

Melodie raised an eyebrow. “And the rest, as they say, is history?”

“Pretty much. Her project doesn’t have to be marketed, but after doing some research, we figured that if she was going to do all that work, she might as well get something out of it.”

“Just she? You’re not involved?”

“I’m fronting the expenses, but that’s all I’m going to let Bridgette pay me back. This is for her and the kids.”

“That’s awfully nice of you.”

“They’re very special to me.”

The love and caring she saw in his eyes made her uncomfortable. He was obviously the kind of big brother every girl dreamed of having. Bridgette was one of the lucky ones to actually get an older sibling like Trenton. Other big brothers weren’t quite as close to the mark.

She cleared her throat. “So where do I come in?”

“We envision this as a dance video. We had someone lined up to lead it, but she had to back out due to an illness in her family. Now we need to recast the role.”

After they briefly discussed the financial terms, Melodie admitted she was interested, but every time she looked at Trenton, her gut meter went off in warning. It was the voice that said, “Danger! Nice guy ahead.” Nice guys, as a whole, were all right, but they tended to be awfully straitlaced.

Worse yet, she knew from some of Serena’s gossip that Trent was not only a nice guy, he was a nice guy hunting for a wife. Not that he’d ever cast her in that role, but the last thing she needed was to be locked into a project with a guy that made her nervous. And nice guys could never understand that she wasn’t going to sacrifice who she was on the altar of marriage. Men always started out saying they won’t ask a woman to give up her career or her dreams, but she’d watched too many of her friends cave in when their husbands put on the pressure. She didn’t have the time or the desire to play that game.

Time. Now there was the real problem. She didn’t have the time to devote to this project, even if she were so inclined. So all in all, it would just be easiest if she let them both off the hook.

“Look, Trent, I appreciate you talking to me about the video and all, but I don’t think I’m your girl.”

He looked at her for a long moment, and Melodie appreciated his honesty by not offering false disappointment.

“If you’re sure…” he began.

Melodie nodded. “Yes, I think it would be best. I do want to thank you for the opportunity.”

“My pleasure.”

She doubted it, but it was nice of him to say anyway.

They stood and were shaking hands when Joey burst into the room. “Uncle Trenton! Amber threw up!”

Trent turned and raced to the play area. He’d barely reached the door when Amber came through and launched herself into his arms, tears streaming down her face.

“I was just…” The rest of her words were lost in her sobs. Melodie stroked the child’s head comfortingly.

“She was hanging upside down on the monkey bars when she hurled all over everything. It was cool!” Joey supplied with typical brotherly concern.

Attendants hurried to the area with cleaning supplies, and a manager came over to them. “Is the child all right, sir?”

“Yes, she’s fine. I should have made her wait longer after eating.”

“That’s quite all right. This happens often.”

Trenton stood with Amber in his arms and gave Melodie a wry smile over the little girl’s shoulder. “Look, Melodie—”

They both gave exasperated sighs as his cellular phone chirped in his pocket. Shifting Amber, he answered the summons.

Feeling awkward about listening to his side of the conversation, Melodie tried to focus her attention elsewhere. This was one of those situations the protocol police needed to come up with some new rules for. Did one stand there and listen obviously? Did one look off and pretend not to listen? Did one physically move away? Melodie decided if she could find the time she was going to write a book: Cellular Phones and the Men Who Love Them.

It should be a bestseller.

Thankfully, he kept the conversation short. When she brought her attention back to him, it was obvious that he wasn’t exactly happy.

“That was Bridgette.”

Melodie waited, not sure that a response was required.

“I told her that you declined, but she insisted I invite you to dinner at my house tonight. We’re having a meeting of the video staff at seven-thirty. It will be informal.”

Melodie wanted to inquire which would be informal—the dinner or the meeting.

“Please, Miss Melodie,” Amber said, her blue eyes liquid with tears. “I want you to meet my mommy.”

“No, honey. Not this time. I promise you I’ll stay after school one afternoon and meet her, okay?”

Barely mollified, Amber nodded and rested her head against her uncle’s broad chest.

After giving Amber a final pat, Melodie smiled at Trent. “Thank you again, but no. I’ll just go so you can take care of the kids.”

Trenton held out his hand and shook hers warmly once more. “I appreciate your time, Melodie.” He reached into his pocket for a pen. “Here’s my card,” he said as he wrote on the back, “in case you change your mind. It was nice talking with you.”

“You, too. Goodbye.”

In a blink, it seemed, they were outside and heading for their respective vehicles. As she slipped inside her traveling sauna, Melodie wondered how she’d gotten herself into another fine mess with so little effort. At least she had gotten herself out of it without any damage.

She was still lost in thought as she pulled into the driveway of her little cookie-cutter home. Her address might not be in Hyde Park or Tarrytown or any of the other wonderful neighborhoods she’d love to live in, but it was hers—and the bank’s.

She wondered for a moment where Mr. Trenton James Laroquette, Esquire, lived. She could only imagine. Probably in the house of her dreams.

Well, wherever he lived, the fresh coat of paint she’d put on last year still looked good and other than the fact that the yard was overdue to be mowed, the place was neat and tidy.

The first thing she did after opening the door was flip on the air conditioner. It was one of the few luxuries she afforded herself, and her standing rule was to turn it on when she got home in the evening and leave it on until she left for work the next morning. It was a little stuffy now, but the house would be blessedly cool for the rest of the night.

As she headed through the living area toward the dining room, something nagged at the edges of her consciousness. It wasn’t until she was almost done flipping through the stack of mail on the table that she realized what it was.

Things were missing.

The Led Zepelin poster was gone. Half the CD rack was gone. The gray recliner and end table were gone.

Most of all, she guessed her roommate was gone.

Three

Melodie glanced around and noticed a few more things missing. Danielle hadn’t exactly been a neatnik, so the very fact that the place looked organized was surprising. Even Danielle’s room was clean—simply void of any personal effects.

When Melodie reached her room, she headed straight for the shower, leaving a trail of sweaty clothes across the floor. She loosened her braid and ran her fingers through her long, heavy hair as she adjusted the water temperature and stepped under the spray. She planned on standing there until her fingers started to wrinkle.

She didn’t quite make it to wrinkle stage before turning off the taps, but she did feel cool and refreshed. She wondered if it was odd to feel more from a shower than from a roommate who had abandoned her, leaving her in the lurch, but Melodie pushed the thought away as she wrapped one towel turban-style around her head and tucked another under her arms.

She supposed she should feel something—anything—since Danielle was gone, but the most she could come up with was a mild sense of relief mixed with an even milder twinge of disappointment. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known this was coming.

Then she noticed an envelope propped against her pillow. In the enclosed note Danielle had said she’d “hooked up” with an old boyfriend and had to “split” all of a sudden. After ending the note with a hope that Melodie would be “cool” about all this, Danielle had signed off with “later.”

Danielle’s timing, as well as her writing style, left a lot to be desired.

This event certainly cast a new light on the video issue. She might actually need this job! If only she hadn’t declined so quickly. Not that she believed she’d had much of a chance of earning the part, but she was now motivated to at least give it a shot.

She glanced at the clock. Trent had said they were getting together at seven-thirty, and it was just after six. If she called, she might be able to get herself reinvited to the meeting.

In the time it took to retrieve his business card from her hip pack and return to the bedroom, her stomach had twisted into a knot. Her hand trembled as she punched out the numbers on the phone. Hesitating before hitting the last button, she slammed the receiver back into its cradle. She didn’t have to do this! She could always pick up a part-time job somewhere until the crisis was over. Besides, she’d just bet Trenton was a tightwad as well as a stuffed shirt and wouldn’t want to pay her what she was worth.

Despite the fact that she was alone, Melodie felt her face flush. That thought was mean and unworthy of her. She didn’t know why she was so dead set on believing the worst about Trenton Laroquette. She just couldn’t put her finger on what it was about him that affected her so.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the phone again, and this time, completed the call.

“’lo?” a childish voice answered.

“Amber? This is Miss Melodie. Is your uncle there?”

All Melodie heard was a squeal, a crash as the phone bounced off a table or desk and a shrill shriek of “Uncle Trenton, Uncle Trenton! Come quick! It’s Miss Melodie!”

Melodie smiled and shook her head.

Her smile wavered when she heard Trent’s voice. “Melodie?”

She cleared her throat. “I apologize for the surprise, but I was thinking about your offer and wondering if the invitation to the meeting tonight still held good.”

There was a moment’s hesitation—just enough to make her nervous.

“Yes, of course. You’re quite welcome to join us.”

She let out a silent sigh of relief. “Great. Um, it’s at seven-thirty, right?”

“That’s correct. Let me give you directions to my home.”

She scrambled for a pen and turned Danielle’s letter over for scratch paper, mentally berating herself for not being prepared. Maybe subconsciously she hadn’t believed he would say yes.

Glancing at the clock as she hung up, she realized she would have to hurry to get ready and make it halfway across town in time.

But she also knew that, in a hurry or not, she needed to put her best foot forward. With quick strokes, she brushed her hair until it glowed. Pulling the sides back, she gave it a simple twist and used her favorite Chinese comb to hold it in place while the rest cascaded down her back. She chose a wrap skirt in a bright Southwest print and topped it with a turquoise-colored silk tank top. A gold necklace and big gold hoops in her ears were her only jewelry. She slipped tan sandals on her feet as she stuck her cheap but functioning watch into the purse she would use instead of her too-casual hip pack.

Always a minimalist with makeup, she found herself applying what little she did wear with care. She needed to look professional and capable, and she was the first to admit that blush, lipstick and mascara made her look a little older, a little less like a freshfaced teenager than she normally did. Just as repainting her nails from purple enamel to clear polish made the professional image more complete. She told herself firmly that she wasn’t worried about what Trent thought personally. She was simply trying to give herself whatever advantage she could now that she needed some extra income.