Nightchild

Chapter 31

Faces, some familiar, many not, already hovered about making idle conversation when the couple finally made their appearance downstairs. Present were members of the band with wives or dates, Eddie Vega and his wife, Debbie, Heathe and a friend different from the one he'd brought to the ranch the previous week, Mr. And Mrs. Wickersham, Susan Nash and her children, of whom Nate was the godfather, various business associates, old friends, and over in the corner against the far wall of the huge clubroom, holding court, was Claire Stevens, regal in her role as matriarch, her ever present companion standing triumphantly at her side.

Earlier in the week, Nate had taken Blythe shopping in Dallas, picking out for her a clinging, black turtleneck dress that accented her auburn tresses. He had insisted that tonight she wear her hair down in soft, loosely flowing curls, instead of up as she had wanted. Now, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the bar, Blythe had to admit he'd been right. She felt confident about her appearance as she advanced on the two women, stopping briefly here and there to say a polite hello, a gracious thank you for coming. Though making a valiant effort to engage Claire and Rene in trite conversation, Heathe excused himself with barely concealed eagerness as Blythe approached.

"Mrs. Stevens...Miss Sanders," Blythe said and offering her hand which neither deigned to accept, she smiled wantonly at them, resolute that their rudeness put them, not her, at a disadvantage. "I really am pleased you both could come," she went on. "I know how much this means to Nate."

The old lady bristled for her attack. "This is still my son's home, young woman. I hardly need an invitation from the likes of you!"

"Ah, how true but never-the-less, you are here and I did invite you. Perhaps in the future you'll exercise your right as my husband's mother and come visit without waiting for a formal invitation. You too, Miss Sanders."

Rene's eyes held unguarded malevolence for the small feminine woman who stood so calmly before them, refusing to let herself be ruffled by their insidious behavior. "You needn't include me in your smug oration. I was invited by your husband. That's the only reason I'm here. Evidently, he neglected to tell you."

For a split second, the smile wavered and threatened to leave Blythe's eyes as the sharp pain of a growing knot in her chest sent an unaccustomed surge of jealousy stabbing through her heart. Quickly, she recovered and was again in control, masking her doubt with coolly detached features, an art she'd learned at an early age.

"Evidently, he didn't consider it important enough to mention. Now if you'll pardon me, I'll find Nate and send him over. I'm sure he'll be delighted to see you both."

"Bitch!" Rene hissed at Blythe's back, causing her to throw her shoulders back and hold her head high as she sauntered off. It was then Blythe noticed Nate, who had been waylaid by a tall silver-haired man dressed simply in worn Wranglers and faded oxford cloth shirt, his back to her.

Nate had been watching her exchange with his mother and old girlfriend, his gaze drifting beyond the man then back again, until he finally caught Blythe's eye and motioned for her to join them.

"J.T., I'd like you to meet Blythe. Darlin', this is John T. Grady. I believe you were introduced to him once before."

Blythe slid beneath her husband's outstretched arm and glanced shyly up at Mr. Grady, extending her own arm to accept his firm handshake.

"I'm sure Mr. Grady wouldn't remember. It was such a brief encounter and there were so many others there."

"On the contrary, I remember quite well thinking to myself at the time that there aren't many around with hair like yours, a deep old-fashioned auburn. Yes, it brings back quite a few memories. Only known on or two others in my day... Nathan filled me in a little but I wasn't positive till I saw you just now. You'd be hard put to go unnoticed or unremembered."