The Invitation Read online

  Billy was right behind her. “I’m sorry. Here, let me help you,” he said, reaching above her head for a canister of fresh coffee beans.

  Jackie started to turn around and found herself looking straight into Billy’s sun-browned throat, then, as her eyes lifted, at his chin, a chin so square it could have been sculpted with a carpenter’s hand plane. For a moment she found her breath catching in her throat. Then she stopped herself and stepped from under his encircling stance. “My goodness, but you do look like your father. How is he, by the way?”

  “The same as he was when you saw him four days ago.”

  “Yes, of course. I…”

  Billy smiled at her, at some joke that only he knew, then pulled out a chair at the table in the corner of the pretty kitchen and motioned for her to sit down. “I will make the coffee,” he said.

  “You can do that?” Jackie was of the school that believed that men could do nothing except what they were paid for or received awards for. They could fight wars, run huge businesses, but they couldn’t feed themselves or choose their own clothes without a woman beside them.

  Billy poured the right number of beans into the grinder, then began to turn the crank, all the while watching her with a slight smile.

  “So tell me all about your life,” she said, smiling up at him, trying her best to remember that she had once changed this man’s diapers.

  “I went to school, graduated, and now I help my father do whatever needs to be done.”

  “Managing the Montgomery millions, right?”

  “More or less.”

  “No wife or children?” It seemed impossible to think that a kid she used to baby-sit could possibly be old enough to have a wife, let alone children.

  “I told you that you were the only woman I would ever love. I told you that on the day you left.”

  At that Jackie laughed. “On the day I left, you were eight years old and your nose came to my belt buckle.”

  “I’ve grown up since then.” As he said this he turned around and poured the ground beans into the coffee pot, and Jackie couldn’t help noticing that he had grown up very, very well. “So how’s your family?” she asked for at least the third time.

  Billy turned, removed his wallet from his back pocket, took out a stack of photographs, and handed them to her. “My nieces and nephews,” he said, “or at least some of them.”

  While the coffee was brewing he bent over her and showed her the photos, some of them of groups, some of individual children. She liked the fact that this man was sentimental enough to carry photos of children with him, that he knew their ages and something about the personality of each child. But for Jackie the experience wasn’t all that pleasant. She remembered the parents of these children as children themselves. There was one little dark-haired girl who was the same age as her mother had been when Jackie had last seen her.

  “I think I’m getting old,” Jackie murmured. In her own heart she hadn’t aged a day since she’d left Chandler. She still felt eighteen, still felt that there were lots of things she had to do before she became a grown-up and started acting like an adult. She wasn’t yet sure what she wanted to do with her life. She’d had a long adolescence flying airplanes in shows and races, doing stunts and tricks to dazzle the world, but now she was nearly ready to settle down and become an adult. She thought she might be ready to marry a “real” man, a guy who had a nine-to-five job, a man who came home at night and read the newspaper. She was even thinking that maybe now she was about ready to start a family. Terri thought this was hilarious since two girls from their high school class were grandmothers already.

  “You’ll never be old, Jackie,” Billy said softly, from just beside her ear.

  His breath on her skin made her jump, and Jackie had to mentally shake herself. What was wrong with her that she could allow the nearness of a child like Billy to affect her? “What—” she began but stopped as she heard a plane. It sounded as if it was coming in to land.

  Putting down her coffee cup, she went through the living room and out the front door toward the landing field, Billy just behind her. As she shaded her eyes against the sun, she could see the plane heading toward the airstrip. Immediately Jackie knew that the pilot wasn’t very experienced: the plane was too low too soon.

  The pilot managed to land the plane but only by the skin of his teeth, and Jackie planned to give him a piece of her mind. He could have taken the chimney off the old house on the hill, and the impact could have caused the plane to crash.

  As she briskly walked across the field, Billy passed her to get to the plane first, and he held up his arms when the pilot stepped out. Jackie realized belatedly that the pilot was a woman. Only a female could be that slender, that delicately curvaceous, and only a beautiful woman could so easily accept a man’s uplifted arms to help her down. She removed her goggles and leather helmet to release a torrent of midnight black hair before turning to Jackie with a look of chagrin on her lovely face. “I was so hoping to impress you,” she said, “but instead I nearly killed myself, a few trees, and…” She looked at Billy. “Was that a chimney I nearly hit?”

  “None other,” he answered.

  The words of scolding died on Jackie’s lips. She remembered the time she had wanted to impress Charley with her flying skills only to fly her worst when he was around. Instead of lecturing, she smiled at the girl.

  “You remember my cousin Reynata, don’t you?”

  At first Jackie didn’t, but then she looked at the girl in horror. “Rey? You’re little Rey?” When she had known this girl Reynata had been a plump five-year-old with perpetually dirty clothes and skinned knees. She was always trying to run after the older children, always falling and hurting herself. Now she was tall and beautiful and nubile. “Of course I remember you,” Jackie said, trying to sound gracious, but wondering if her hair was turning gray with every one of these “adults” she met. After shaking hands with the young woman, Jackie invited her in for coffee.

  “I’d love to, but I saw the truck just down the road and—Ah! Here it is now.”

  Jackie stood where she was as Rey, all energy and movement, ran toward the road leading into Eternity where a large truck was just now coming into view.

  “I think I’d better help,” Billy said, then moved forward to follow his cousin.

  Puzzled, Jackie followed them slowly. Just what was going on? The plane Rey had flown was a Waco, so shiny-new that it must have left the factory yesterday. It was the type of plane that she had told her rescuer, William, that she most wanted. Was this a coincidence or was the plane from William?

  By the time she reached the truck, it was being unloaded and things were being carried into the old hotel that she rented from Billy’s father—a bed and linens, a chair, a couple of small tables, lamps, clothes, and a rack to hold the hangers. The whole situation was so confusing that it was several moments before Jackie could speak. “Would you mind telling me what is going on?” she asked Billy after pulling him aside. “And would you mind telling those men to stop putting furniture inside my house? I already have enough furniture.”

  Billy looked surprised. “The top floor is empty, isn’t it? You didn’t rent that floor, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t. Your father—”

  “Oh, I bought the hotel from Dad. He charged me five dollars for it. I tried to get him down to one dollar, but he wouldn’t hear of it. At first the scoundrel wanted ten, but I don’t have a degree in business for the fun of it. I won’t be cheated, even by my own father.”

  Jackie was sure the story was very amusing, but at the moment she wasn’t ready to be amused. “What is going on?”

  “I guess I should have asked your permission first. I mean, it is your house, or at least the bottom three floors are, but I really didn’t have time to ask. I had to make arrangements as fast as possible to give us as much time as possible to get ready for the Invitational. I thought it would be much more convenient if I lived nearby instead of driving from Chan