Her Man Friday(26)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

With a gentleness that surprised him—considering the fact that he was currently being attacked by a madwoman—Schuyler lightly circled the madwoman’s wrist with sure, but careful, fingers. "That’s going to be rather difficult, don’t you think, Mrs. Beecham, with you trying to crush my windpipe and all. Do you mind?"

Instead of releasing him, she nodded. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do mind. I’m afraid I won’t be letting go until you promise me fifteen minutes of your time. Frankly, Mr. Kimball, it’s been terribly difficult to get past your sentinel, and I’m at my wit’s end. At this point, I am by no means averse to… unconventional tactics."

He was more likely to call them homicidal tendencies himself. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Sentinel? What sentinel?" Although, now that he thought about it, he rather liked the idea of having a sentinel. A sentinel might come in handy for situations like, oh, say… this one, for example. He’d have Lily look into hiring him one tomorrow morning.

"Uh, I think by ‘sentinel,’ Mrs. Beecham would be referring to me."

As if conjured by his thoughts, Lily appeared at Schuyler’s side, seeming to be not at all surprised by the fact that there was a woman attempting to squeeze the breath right out of him. But then, that was Lily. Darling Lily. Always grace under fire. Especially when she wasn’t the one who was under fire.

"Mrs. Beecham has been trying to meet with you for some time now," Lily said. "And I’m afraid I may have—inadvertently, of course—given her the impression that you weren’t interested in talking to her."

"As well you should," Schuyler said. "Because I’m not interested in talking to her."

It bothered him more than he cared to admit that, instead of responding to his statement, Lily turned her attention to the Valkyrie who was still trying to make a Venetian blind out of him.

"Mrs. Beecham," she said in that no-nonsense voice of authority. "I apologize if I did, in fact, give you the wrong impression over the telephone the other day. Mr. Kimball has been out of the country for some time now, attending to business. That’s why he hasn’t responded to your requests to see him. Not because of… uh… that other thing I mentioned." More confidently, she concluded, "I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear to you initially."

Mrs. Beecham eyed Lily cautiously, but she loosened her grip some on Schuyler’s tie. Mind you, she didn’t remove her fingers completely, but at least he was able to inhale a deep, calming breath. When he did, Schuyler was treated to the scent of the tightly bundled Mrs. Caroline Beecham. And he found it very interesting indeed to discover that she smelled of hot summer nights, bluesy saxophones, and the crackle of something spicy and bad for you hissing on the grill.

Well, well, well.

"That’s not what you told me the other day, Miss Rigby," she said, her attention flickering from Schuyler to Lily and then back again.

And as he studied her more intently, Schuyler realized that, even through the lenses of her glasses—or, perhaps, because of them—she really did have quite amazing, luminous brown eyes. They were the color of fine bittersweet chocolate, ringed by a wealth of ridiculously long, dark lashes. They were also, he noted further, smudged beneath by faint purple crescents. And he wondered what it was that left her tossing and turning, unable to sleep in her bed at night.

"Yes," Lily continued with obvious reluctance, "Well. You, um… You did call several times, didn’t you?"

With clear discomfort, she glanced down at the back of one hand. Uh-oh, Schuyler thought. She only did that when she was trying to hide important—or embarrassing—information. This ought to be good.

"And that last time you called," she continued with a blitheness he could see was completely feigned, "you, ah… you were rather worked up, after all. And you did catch me on something of a bad day, you see. And—"

Mrs. Beecham interrupted, "You told me Mr. Kimball would rather skip na**d in the surf with an oversize version of Bermuda Fun Barbie than be bothered with whatever problems Chloe was having at school."

Lily perused one cuticle in particular and sucked in her cheeks tight, as if she were trying to keep in whatever words were threatening to escape. Schuyler wanted to laugh, but didn’t know whether it should be with derision or genuine humor. Certainly what she’d told Mrs. Beecham was true. But, hey, what man wouldn’t want to skip na**d through the surf with Bermuda Fun Barbie—or, as Schuyler had actually been, with Tourist Guide Barbie. Still, there was no reason to go broadcasting it to every Tom, Dick, and Mrs. Caroline Beecham, was there?

Ultimately, he opted to simply let Lily dig herself out of this one. Mrs. Beecham was something of an interesting enigma, after all, one who, under other circumstances—like maybe if she hadn’t tried to strangle him by way of an introduction—Schuyler might have liked to get to know better. Deep down, he supposed he didn’t mind if she knew he liked frolicking na**d in the surf. There might come a time in the future when such knowledge on her part would come in handy.

"Yes. Well." Lily cleared her throat and gazed benignly at the backs of both hands now—as well she should, Schuyler thought indignantly. "Although it’s true that I may have said something to that effect—"

"Actually, Miss Rigby, those were your exact words," Mrs. Beecham interjected. "I’m quite good at remembering things like that, and you distinctly said ‘Bermuda Fun Bar—’ "

"Yes. Well." This time Lily was the one to interrupt. "Those may indeed have been my exact words, but I, um… I was obviously mistaken. Mr. Kimball was actually attending to some business overseas, and not, uh… frolicking na**d with anyone."

Schuyler nodded. "That’s exactly correct, Mrs. Beecham," he lied. "And I wasn’t even attending to business with Corporate Fun Barbie, the way I would have liked to have been."

Mrs. Beecham’s expression changed swiftly at the announcement, going from murderous—albeit courteous—intent, to stark, raving, embarrassment in no time flat. Immediately, she released his tie and took a step backward, then dropped her head into her hands. "I’m sorry," she mumbled. "I am so sorry."

As quickly as she had succumbed to the need to hide, however, she lifted her head, squared her shoulders, and once again assumed the pose of a fighting Valkyrie. "I’ve been under some pressure myself lately, Mr. Kimball. Not that such a thing excuses my behavior tonight, but… I do apologize." Before he could accept or decline that apology, she hurried on, "And it is imperative that I speak with you as soon as possible. Why not tonight, since I’m already here?" She nodded toward someone behind Schuyler. "Chloe could join us, seeing as how she’s here, too, and this concerns her."