The Millionaire Claims His Wife(30)

"The kind who ignores repeated phone calls," Deb grumbled as she peeled  off her raincoat. "This thing is soaked. You want me to hang it in the  laundry room, or what?"

"Just drape it over the back of that chair," Annie said as she headed for the kitchen.

"It'll drip on the floor."

"Trust me, Deb. The floor won't mind. Come and make yourself comfortable while I grab a couple of plates and some napkins."

Deb's eyebrows lifted when she saw the sad little box that had just come out of the microwave oven.

"I see I interrupted an evening of gourmet dining," she said, moving the thing aside with a manicured fingertip.

"Mmm." Annie took two diet Cokes out of the refrigerator and put them on  the counter. "You can't imagine what a sacrifice it's going to be to  eat a slice of Angie's Deluxe instead."

"A slice?" Deb opened the box, dug out a huge triangle of pizza and  deposited it on Annie's plate. "A half of an Angie's Deluxe, is what I'm  figuring on." She dug in again and lifted out a piece for herself. "So  what's new in your life, anyway?"

"Oh, nothing much." Annie hitched a hip onto a stool. "How've you been?"

"And well you might ask," Deb said indignantly. "For someone's who's  supposed to be my best amiga, you sure haven't paid much attention to me  lately. Don't you ever return phone calls?"

"Of course I do. I've just been busy, that's all. Mmm, this pizza is to  die for. And to think I was going to make a meal out of two hundred  calories of fat-free, flavor-free yuck. So what if I'll have to give up  eating for the rest of the week? This is definitely worth the  sacrifice."

"Don't try and pull my leg, Annie Cooper. I can tell a fib from the truth."

"Cross my heart and hope to gain two inches around my hips," Annie said, "this is delicious."

"And can the innocent act." Deb slipped another piece of pizza from the  box. "Nobody could be as busy as you claim to be, not unless you've  given up eating and sleeping. You've turned into the 'no' girl. No, you  don't want to go to the movies, not even when Liam Neeson's on the  screen. No, you don't want to go to the mall, even if Lord and Taylor's  got a fifty percent clearance."

"I'm sorry, Deb. Really, I am, but as I said, I've been-"

"And." Deb said, stealing a slice of pepperoni from the pizza still in  the box, "instead of sharing the good stuff with me, which is the duty  of a true-blue friend, you let me find it out all on my own."

Annie's smile stiffened. Nobody knew what had happened on that island.  Nobody even knew she'd gone away with Chase, except for Dawn and Nick.

"What 'good stuff'?"

"You know."

"I don't, or I wouldn't be asking. Come on, Deb. What are you talking about?"

Deb shoved aside her plate and pulled the tab on her can of soda.

"Well, for openers, when were you going to tell me you gave Milton Hoffman the old heave-ho?"

"Oh. That."

"Yeah. That. Not that I wasn't happy to hear it. Milton's a nice guy, but he's not for you."

"Where did you hear-"

"I bumped into him at the Stop And Shop the other day." Deb leaned closer. "Did you know that he eats low-fat granola?"

I'm not surprised, Annie said to herself, then scowled for thinking something so unkind.                       
       
           



       

"Well, so what?" she said staunchly. "That doesn't make him a bad  person. Besides, if you wanted to know if I was still seeing him or not,  you could have just asked me. You didn't have to buttonhole poor  Milton."

"I did not buttonhole poor Milton! He was standing in front of the  cereal display, looking unhappy, and I wheeled my cart up to his and  said he might want to try the oatmeal, or maybe the All-Bran, depending  on his needs. I mean, who knows what's going on under that shiny suit?  And he gave me this look that reminded me of a basset hound I once  had... Did I know you then? He was the dearest little dog, but-"

"Dammit, Deb, what did Milton say?"

"He just asked if I'd seen you around lately. And I said well, I'd gone  to lunch with you a few weeks back. And he said that was more than he'd  done. And I said-"

"Whoa." Annie held up her hands. "Let me simplify things, okay? Milton's a lovely man. A delightful man. But..."

"But?"

"But, we're just friends."

"He seemed to think you'd once been something more." Deb picked up  another piece of pizza. "Like, you'd maybe had serious plans."

"No! We never..." Annie put her hands over her face. "Oh gosh. I feel terrible."

Deb gave a delicate burp. "The pizza's a killer, I admit, but it's not that bad."

"Not the pizza. Milton."

"You led him on," Deb said, clucking her tongue.

"No. Yes. Damn! I suppose I did," Annie said, and told Deb about what  had happened at the wedding, and how she'd put on an act for Chase's  benefit. "But I cleared things up the next week," she added quickly. "I  explained that-that I'd said some things I hadn't really meant  and-and..."

"You broke his little heart," Deb said solemnly, and then she grinned  and lightly punched Annie in the arm. "Don't look like that! I'm  exaggerating. Milton looked absolutely fine. Happier than I've ever seen  him, to tell the truth, and halfway through our chat a woman came  waltzing over from the produce aisle and looped her arm through his. Her  name's Molly Something-or-other, she's new in the English department  and it didn't take a genius to figure out what's happening between them  when she dropped her head of cabbage into the cart next to his box of  granola."

Annie sighed with relief. "I'm glad."

"Milton said to say hi if I saw you, so here I am, saying hi."

"Honestly, Deb-"

"Honestly, Annie, why didn't you tell me you went off and spent the weekend after the wedding with your gorgeous ex?"

Annie turned bright red to the roots of her hair. "What are you talking about?"

"Dawn told me." Deb reached for a piece of pizza, bit into it and chewed thoughtfully. "I met her in the detergent aisle."

"Have you ever considered changing supermarkets?" Annie said sweetly. "What else did my darling daughter tell you?"

"Only that you and Chase went out of town in hopes of a reconciliation, and that it didn't work out. Is that about it?"

"Yes," Annie said. "That's about it."

Deb, who was nobody's fool, eyed her best friend narrowly.

"Maybe your baby girl bought that story," she said, "but I have a few years of observing the human condition on her."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, you want to tell me what really hap pened?"

"Nothing happened."

"Annie," Deb said.

The doorbell rang. Annie sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

"Don't think you're off the hook," Deb called as Annie hurried from the  kitchen. "I have every intention of picking up the inquisition as soon  as you get back." Her voice rose. "You hear?"

Annie rolled her eyes. "I hear," she said, as she flung the door open.

A boy stood on the porch. Rain glittered on his hair and shoulders, and on the yellow panel truck in the driveway.

"Mrs. Annie Cooper?"

Annie looked at the long white box clutched in his arms.

"Ms. Annie Cooper," she said. "And I don't want them."

The boy frowned and looked at the tag clipped to the box.

"This is 126 Spruce Street, isn't it?"

"It is, and you're to take those flowers right back where they came from."

"They're roses, ma'am. Long-stemmed, red-"

"I know what they are, and I do not want them." Annie reached behind her and took her pocketbook from the hall table.                       
       
           



       

"But-"

"Here," she said, handing the boy a ten-dollar bill. "I'm sorry you had to come out in such miserable weather."

"But, ma'am..."

"Good night."

Annie shut the door. She sighed, leaned back against it and closed her eyes.

"What was that about?"

Her eyes flew open. Deb was standing in the hall, staring.

"Nothing. It was a-a mix-up. A delivery of something or other, but the kid had the wrong-"

"I heard the whole thing, Annie. He had the right house and the right  woman. He also had a humongous box of roses, and you told him to take  them away."

Annie's chin lifted. "I certainly did," she said, marching past Deb into  the kitchen. "You want a glass for that Coke, and some ice?"

"I want to know if I'm going crazy. Somebody sends you long-stemmed  roses and you don't even want to take a look? You don't even want to ask  who they're from?"