Chapter Thirteen
Emma stayed well away from the bedroom window the next morning while she dressed, then went to look over at Logan’s house. No lights shone, but the bright sun would make lights unnecessary. He’d gone to work.
After a light breakfast, she searched near the phone and found Lily’s address book.
She looked through it to see if she could find the name of the tennis club.
Maybe she could go and find someone to play with.
No doubt Lily had some regular friends, but Emma didn’t begin to know who to call.
If she could just drop by the club, chances were that she’d find a pickup game.
She reached for the phone when it rang.
“Hi, honey.” Her mother’s cheerful voice came across.
“Mom, is something wrong?”
“No. Can’t a mother call to say hi? I’m missing you, darling.”
Emma usually spoke to her mother almost every day, if only for a few minutes. It was more habit than a real need, but maybe that was only on her part. Her mother might feel differently.
“I’m glad you called. I broke it off with David,” Emma said. “You and Gerald should probably know in case you run into him.”
“Oh, honey, David’s so nice and steady.”
Emma grimaced. “Too much. I want a bit of excitement in life.”
The silence on the other end was telling.
“Not as much as Lily. But more than what I have,” she said to fill the dead air.
“It’s natural, I guess. For the young.”
“Mom, how did you and Dad meet? You two come from such different backgrounds, I’m only now realizing how far apart you were.”
“I visited my aunt Marilyn in New York. Your father was an actor starting out in some off-Broadway production. We met, fell madly in love and that was that.”
“Did you enjoy the excitement?” Emma asked slowly.
“At first. It was so different from Lynchburg. But once you girls were born, I wanted more of what I knew as a child, stability, roots, family ties. Your father never wanted that. He was, and still is I suppose, quite content to play all the time. Excitement was like an elixir for him.”
“So after the divorce you went home to Lynchburg.”
“We went to Lynchburg. A few months later I met Gerald and fell in love all over again.” Her voice softened. Emma never doubted the love between her mother and her stepfather, it was evident whenever they were together or spoke of each other.
“But Charlottesville is a bit—”
She couldn’t call it dull. It had been her home for years.
“A bit quiet if you are comparing it with L.A. Yes. And maybe you need to fly a bit before settling down.”
“I’m having a wonderful time. Yesterday I drove Lily’s car. The boys would die to have a ride in it—a candy-apple-red Mustang convertible.”
“Don’t tell them or they’ll bug us to death to visit Lily. Have her come here, she could drive the car.”
Emma laughed.
“I think she moves a bit faster than driving a car from California to Virginia. But I’ll tell her.”
“And the neighbor? Have you seen more of him?”
“Actually he invited me to a barbecue some friends of his are giving on Saturday. It’s in the San Fernando Valley.”
For some reason she didn’t want to discuss dinner last night. Not yet. Some memories were so precious. And the rest were too embarrassing.
“Maybe you’ll meet other people you can do things with. When is Lily returning?”
“I don’t know. Whenever her scenes are in the can, I guess.”
Peggy laughed. “How like your father you sound. Have you seen him?”
“Yes. We had lunch yesterday. He, um, he talks about himself a lot.”
“You should have been a diplomat, darling. He sounds as if he is as self-absorbed as ever. Don’t be too disappointed.”
“I’m not for me. But I realized Lily must have missed what I had growing up. You and Gerald were always interested in what I was doing. Still are. I don’t think Dad particularly cares what she does.”
Peggy sighed. “That was the primary reason I thought she rushed into that marriage with Pierre—her search for someone to care for her.”
“Mmm.”
“Got to run, honey. I’ll call in a few days, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Thanks, Mom. Tell everyone there I send my love.”
Emma hung up, thinking about her mother and father. They had been so different. As different as she and Logan?
He lived in a world she only dreamed about.
And she lived in a world he had never known.
Growing up in sophisticated San Francisco, working and living in jaded Los Angeles, how would he relate to the quiet, slow pace of life in a sleepy Virginia college town? Or to someone who grew up in that very town?
Emma found the address of Lily’s tennis club. Locating her sister’s racket, she changed and headed out. Luck was with her. When she arrived at the club, she was greeted by name—her sister’s name, that is—as soon as she walked in.
When asked if anyone was looking for someone to play, she was immediately paired with a new member, Becky Foster.
Relieved she didn’t have to pretend to be other than herself, she enjoyed the sets.
Becky was a better player than Emma, but didn’t win every game.
They stopped when the heat became too oppressive and shared lunch.
Heading back for the house a couple of hours later, Emma considered her day.
Not very different from a weekend in Virginia.
Her parents belonged to the country club, she had a membership, as well.
Even as a young teenager she’d spent many Saturdays at the club, either in the pool or on the tennis courts.
She’d tried golf a couple of times, but didn’t enjoy it as much as other activities.
Some things didn’t change with different states and backgrounds.
She’d enjoyed the exercise, and getting to know Becky.
It had been awkward when they’d parted. Emma said she’d try to call, but wasn’t sure how long she would stay.
Lunch had emphasized how lonely she was.
She’d come to visit her sister, and instead rambled around alone in the big house.
Of course with Logan next door, she could always dash over to visit. But she wouldn’t. She was getting too involved with her sister’s next door neighbor. There were other things to do besides having him entertain her.
She knew where he wanted to entertain her and once in a while she almost forgot why that wouldn’t be such a good idea.
Like now. She was on vacation, beholden to no one. Telling David she couldn’t marry him had cleared that obstacle. Young, with few obligations, she was as free as she’d ever be in her life. Why not enjoy whatever Logan had in mind?
Because you’d make a fool of yourself, that’s why, she softly chided. Last night had been a prime example. She’d fled like a scared rabbit because he wanted to take the kiss a bit beyond her experience.
She’d been scared silly. How could she pretend to be some kind of femme fatale if she bolted every time she got in over her head?
What would Lily do?
She didn’t know her sister as well as she would have had they grown up together like most twins.
They talked on the phone at length sometimes.
Yet that alone wasn’t enough. Emma had a pretty clear understanding of her sister—even as small children, Lily had been the adventuresome one, Emma more timid.
The answering machine blinked steadily when Emma entered the house.
She punched the rewind button and listened to the messages.
The first was from someone named Bart, calling Lily about a reference.
Next Sally’s voice asking why her cell wasn’t working and insisting Lily join them tonight.
They were going party hopping and she simply had to come.
Toby would swing by Lily’s place after he picked her up and she’d have nothing to do but be ready by seven.
The third message sounded like a sales pitch.
She wandered upstairs, the tantalizing thought of party hopping filling her mind. She’d pulled off the impersonation at dinner the other night, not a single one of Lily’s friends had suspected.
Could she do it again? Lily apparently had a huge circle of friends. The parties would be lavish and undoubtedly a lot of fun. She’d be one of the crowd, mingling with people she hadn’t known all her life, seeing how Californians lived.
Why not go? If Lily had been home, Emma was sure she would have gone and taken her twin with her.
Emma decided she’d do it. She’d be ready when Toby arrived and gain a bit more insight to her sister’s life-style.
It took much longer than Emma would have expected to find the right thing to wear.
She wanted something different from her normal attire, something of Lily’s that would reflect the personality she often wished she possessed.
Trying on dresses, pants, skirts and tops, she finally selected a flirty red skirt that barely covered her decently.
Matched with a lacy black crochet top, she felt daring and provocative.
After her shower, she carefully applied her makeup.
Frowning in dissatisfaction, she scrubbed her face.
Rummaging around in her sister’s cabinet, she tried a bit of this and that. The result was more than satisfactory.
Dramatically highlighting her eyes, she looked mysterious and worldly.
The lipstick matched the skirt, hot red, and the effect on her lips startled her.
Pouting provocatively, she swept her lashes up and grinned.
One hot babe here. Brushing her hair until it swirled around her in a tousled mane, she was more than satisfied.
She looked exactly like her sister. And more importantly, nothing like a quiet woman from a small Southern town.
The high-heeled sandals completed her quest. She posed in front of the mirror, turning this way and that, struck by every angle. Forget safety and conservatism. This was one reason she’d come to California. This woman was ready for life in the fast lane.