A Rainbow in Paradise Page 17

  Then there had been the sectional basketball championship. Joe had scored more than sixty points, including the last-second, three-point shot to win by one as the clock ran out. She had stood in the bleachers to shout encouragement and had taken a misstep, catching her toe in the crack and pitching forward. She'd landed practically in the lap of the senior class clown, who had made a quick, loud quip about how this was the only way any boy would ever hold Miss DeForestation. Everyone around them had hooted with laughter.

  There had been hundreds of other opportunities for Joe to notice her; she had insisted on creating them. She always checked Joe's class schedule and organized her own so she would pass him in the hall at least four or five times a day. She had done so for all of their years in the same school. She had gone to every game or match he ever played in, unless she had a conflict where she had to play viola for something. She'd even pushed herself to qualify for higher math classes, just so she could be in the same class with Joe—and she hated math.

  She'd all but made a nuisance of herself, following Joe Vanetti around, practically stalking him, hoping he'd notice her. It might have worked, too, if I'd been more the noticeable type, she reflected. But shy wallflowers weren't noticeable, and Joe had occupied the rarefied world of sports awards, scholastic success, and popular people that had simply never admitted klutzes like her.

  Throughout those high school years, there had been other boys who had interested her—crushes, really—though none of them had ever noticed her, either. But no one had kept her interest and brought her back, over and over again, the way Joe had done. Joseph Martin Vanetti was the one she had always adored from afar, the dream date she had idolized. What she had felt for him had been much more like hero worship than puppy love.

  And now he's coming here. After all these years, the first time I bring Joe Vanetti to my house is when he's looking for an old maid music teacher to tutor his daughter. Angelica smiled at the irony.

  Ah, if only I had the nerve.... But what was the point in even considering it? She'd never managed the nerve before now. She pursed her lips and dusted while she waited for Joe to arrive.

  * * * * *

  Joe parked his car at the curb and double-checked the address. Funny, he thought. I've known Angelica DeForest for... what? Twenty years? Twenty-five maybe. And I've never been to her house before. He recognized the place; it really hadn't changed much from how he remembered it. He'd first noticed it when Angelica and her mother had moved in with Old Lady Lunsford, the woman half the people in town called Grandma Poppy. Angelica had lived there with her mother and grandmother all through her junior high and high school years. Then, according to Cretia, she'd come back to town after finishing her studies at Northern Arizona University to take care of her aging mother, and had stayed on alone since her mother's death. That sounds like a lonely existence, Joe thought with a shudder. If there was one thing Joe knew well, it was loneliness.

  Well, time to bell the cat, or maybe the correct expression here is "face the music." Joe smiled at his own pun and wiped his hands on his slacks. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this nervous about meeting anybody. He couldn't imagine why he still felt so intimidated by Angelica DeForest, after all these years.

  I never really figured out what there was about her, Joe pondered as he looked up at the big house. She was just always so cool, so aloof, so... intimidating. He'd noticed her the first time he ever saw her, standing in front of Rainbow Rock Junior High School on her first day of seventh grade. He, the experienced, upper-classman eighth-grader, had tried to impress her by commenting to some of the younger students about school procedure. Angelica had regarded him with her cool, Ice Queen stare and turned her head away, and he had gulped down the rest of his planned instruction together with the lump in his throat. With her huge, sky-blue eyes and waist-length, honey-colored hair, Angelica had always been a beauty, and Joe had noticed her—plenty.

  But it wasn't exactly a match made in heaven. Joe sighed. Then he noticed someone moving behind the front window. Was she waiting for him? Whew! Better get my act together. I don't want her scolding me for being late. Joe smiled wryly. Even now the thought of Angelica turning that icy blue stare on him could still give him the willies. No, there had never been much space for connections between classy Angelica DeForest and plain ol' Joe. She had occupied the rarefied world of classical music and formal recitals, and he was the commonest sort of guy, working his natural athletic ability into the hope of a scholarship. Well, he told himself again, time to face the music. Gathering a deep breath for courage, he strode up the walk and knocked on the front door of Poppy Lunsford's oh-so-perfect home.