A Rather Curious Engagement Read Free Page B

and were planning to plot our future together, over a champagne supper. I’d gone to pick up some groceries, then returned to his apartment, while Jeremy was finalizing some stuff at the office before meeting me here for a night of wine, food, and . . .
    Lydia.
    Well, of course, I stood my ground. I plunked myself right there on his sofa, and Lydia and I stared at each other, motionless, like two lionesses. And that’s exactly how Jeremy found us, moments later. I heard his key in the lock, and his footsteps, and I turned around just in time to see the expression on his face.
    He had been looking down, engrossed in thought, carefully juggling his keys, briefcase, champagne, and a big bunch of fragrant wine-red roses wrapped in blue tissue paper. He glanced up, saw me first, and gave me a smile that went right to my heart. Then he saw Lydia, who had sidled off into the shadows and fixed him a drink to match hers. She floated toward him as if they were still married, and she was the lady of the house, ready to give her hubbie a great big kiss and hug . . .
    Look. I very rarely take an instant dislike to someone. But when a perfect stranger turns a high-beam glare of pure hatred on you the minute you walk in the door, and then tells you to shove off while she makes a play for the man you love, well, frankly, I just wanted to choke her, then and there. But, you’ve got to be careful, where men are concerned. The minute you show your claws, they think you’re the Bad One.
    At the sight of his ex-wife, Jeremy’s expression went from happy to shocked dismay, then polite recovery, ending with a guilty, apologetic look. “Lydia!” he exclaimed. “What on earth—!” When she kissed him, he didn’t kiss back, I noticed, but he didn’t fling her off, either. I’d rather hoped he would.
    “Hello, darling!” she cried, and she actually took the flowers and champagne from his hands, as if he’d bought them for her.
    I abandoned all pretext of being civilized, and I leaped off the sofa, positioned myself between them and said rather pointedly, “How beautiful. Are those for me, Jeremy?”
    Jeremy stepped back from her now, and said, “Yes, of course,” at which Lydia, without ever taking her eyes off Jeremy, passed the flowers and champagne to me with the careless gesture of a woman who’s asked the maid to take care of them for her.
    “Penny,” Jeremy said, “this is Lydia—”
    “Yes, your ex-wife, right?” I said bluntly, putting the flowers and champagne on the hall table. He looked like a trapped animal that didn’t know which way to bolt. Then he recovered, and took a step toward me and held out his arm to put around me.
    Lydia immediately grasped the meaning of this gesture. I could see panic register in her hazel-colored eyes, which then narrowed in ill-concealed fury. Quickly, she said in an urgent tone loaded with meaning, “Jeremy. Might I have a word with you?”
    Jeremy said knowingly, almost as if talking to a naughty school-girl, “Lydia. For God’s sake. What are you doing here?”
    “I’m afraid it’s very serious,” she said, looking tragic, “and very personal. I really do need your help, Jeremy, or I wouldn’t have come. I’ve no one else to turn to. Obviously.”
    She didn’t look at me, and she didn’t exactly say, “So let’s toss this other woman out the window,” but she might as well have. I knew what was coming next. I guess I’ve known one or two neurotic types well enough to understand that she will next insist on sequestering the man for a private conference, that would lead to talking on the telephone at all hours of the day and night. This poison flower had to be nipped in the bud, right now.
    “Why don’t we all sit down and sort this out?” I said helpfully but crisply. “Lydia, if you need our assistance, we will do what we can. Please speak freely in front of both of us. But I’m afraid we must be quick, because we have plans for tonight and we are already