The Invitation (Montgomery/Taggert 19)

“Only if I had given birth to him when I was ten years old!” Jackie snapped with a great deal of venom.

Terri looked startled by Jackie’s fierceness. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I’m sure that your childlessness must be a sore point with you. I meant nothing by what I said. I just think it’s nice that Billy is here with you. It’s kind of him.”

Jackie could say nothing, absolutely nothing. Terri had meant well, but she had succeeded in making Jackie feel about a hundred years old. According to Terri, Jackie was infertile, an old woman who had already lived her life, and there was no hope of any future for her. According to Terri, Jackie should be grateful that a young man like William “helped” her when she was “invalided.” Instead of a cut hand, Terri made Jackie’s injury sound as though she had old-age arthritis and was confined to a wheelchair, and sweet young Billy Montgomery, out of the goodness of his heart, was wheeling her around.

Terri put her hand on the handle of the car, but then she quickly grabbed Jackie’s arm and pulled her away where her son couldn’t hear them. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that man you have in your life. You won’t be able to keep a secret from me.”

“I’m keeping no secrets from you,” Jackie said angrily—and honestly.

Terri looked as though she wanted to weep. Jackie was the highlight of her life, and she could not figure out what she had done to offend her. Maybe Jackie was telling the truth and didn’t have a man in her life. Maybe Terri had read the signs wrong. Maybe Jackie’s sudden, inexplicable hostility had arisen because Terri had assumed something that wasn’t true and now Jackie was embarrassed that there was no man in her life.

“You do remember that I told you about Edward Browne? He’s been asking about you again,” she said softly, glancing at her big son, sulking in the car. “He’s asked about you several times. He really does like you, and he’s a great catch.”

So many emotions were raging through Jackie that she couldn’t speak, so Terri seemed to take her silence as encouragement.

“He’s a very nice man, Jackie,” Terri said persuasively. “He’s about fifty-five years old, a widower. His children are grown, so you wouldn’t have any problems there. Stepchildren can be a handful, you know. He’s quite well off, so he could support you after you quit flying.”

Jackie felt that Terri meant, “When you come to your senses, decide to grow up, and quit fooling with those silly airplanes, there will be a man to take care of you.”

Terri didn’t have any idea of the thoughts going through Jackie’s head. To her, the prospect of Edward Browne was wonderful. The man owned every shoe store within a hundred-mile radius, and he had a lovely house furnished with antiques he had inherited from his parents. The thought of a steady, reliable man, of a house that was well cared for and orderly, was Terri’s idea of heaven. She no longer wanted excitement in her life. The drunken rages of her husband and the bloody fights between him and their sons were more excitement than she’d ever wanted. In Terri’s mind, happiness was buying something pretty and fragile and feeling sure that it wasn’t going to be broken within twenty-four hours.

“Edward Browne is such a nice man,” Terri encouraged. “He’s lived in Chandler for fifteen years, and everyone has only praise for him. Not a word of scandal. His wife was lovely, and they seemed to be very much in love. He was devastated when she died two years ago, and I understand he’s very lonely. Every unmarried woman in Chandler from twenty to fifty has been after him. He’ll go out with them now and then, but he never goes out with the same woman more than twice. Yet he’s asked me about you several times. I told him he should call you, but he said that he wants to know you’d welcome him. I think he’s rather shy, and, Jackie, you know that you can be intimidating. I think he considers you a celebrity, so he’s a bit afraid of calling you without prior permission.”

Terri was looking at Jackie intently. “Can I tell him it’s okay to call you?”

“I…I don’t know,” Jackie said honestly. Why did life have to be so complicated?

As far as Jackie could tell, there was no way to get rid of Terri except to agree to allow this man, Edward Browne, to call her. And why shouldn’t Jackie go out with this very, very appropriate man? Was she engaged to someone else? Even dating someone else? In love with another man? No, she was not. She was completely and absolutely free. And besides, her attraction to William was probably about ninety percent loneliness. She was used to being surrounded by people, and now she was suddenly so alone that probably any man, no matter what age, would look good to her.

“Tell him to call me,” Jackie said with some conviction—not much, but some.

Terri hugged her friend and then got into the rusty old car beside her angry son, who sped away so fast that flying gravel peppered Jackie’s legs.

Once Terri was gone, Jackie braced herself to face William. She didn’t like the fact that he’d so blatantly announced his presence to Terri. Had Terri been a little more astute she might have figured out that Jackie and William were…well, were whatever they were.

In the house, she found William sitting on the couch, calmly reading the paper. When he looked up at her he seemed to expect her to sit by him and finish reading the comics, just as though Terri’s visit had never happened.

“I want to talk to you,” she said sternly, the door barely closed behind her.

“What have I done now?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

She wasn’t going to treat

this matter lightly. Didn’t he realize what kind of rumors could be spread? “You may get away with playing the little boy with Terri, but it won’t work with me.” She had every intention of berating him for endangering her reputation by implying that he was living with her when he came into the room asking about his shoes. But to her horror, that was not what came out of her mouth.

“How could you have allowed Terri to treat you like a child?” she demanded.

William blinked at her a couple of times. “Is that what you’re upset about?” He put his newspaper back in front of his face. “Older people always treat younger ones like children. Forever. They never stop, no matter how old you get.”

It seemed to her that William meant to end the discussion there, but Jackie suddenly became very angry. “Older!” she sputtered. “What does that mean? Terri is exactly the same age as I am. Actually, she’s three months younger than I am.”

Obviously unperturbed, William turned a page of the newspaper. “Some people are old at twenty, and some are young at sixty.”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?”

To further her anger, William didn’t bother to answer. He just kept reading that blasted newspaper, his face hidden from her view. It was difficult, if not impossible, to have a serious argument about one of life’s more profound issues with oneself. From the very beginning it seemed to her that William had failed to take this age difference seriously. He acted as though it mattered not at all.

“What did you do to Terri’s son?” she asked, trying another way to get a reaction out of him.