Free Duplicity by Peggy Webb Page A

thought of it sooner.
    She felt her plate being lifted from her hand. "Don't you know all that sugar is bad for your digestion, darling?" Dirk said. He was standing behind her, grinning. He winked at Aunt Fronie. "She's mean as a copperhead snake when her digestion is upset."
    As Aunt Fronie's mouth dropped open in disbelief, Dirk circled Ellen's waist with his free hand and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "How do you prefer your doughnuts? Plain or with icing?"
    Ellen didn't bat an eyelash at being found out. She calmly took the pie out of his hand and tried to look crestfallen. "What did I tell you, Aunt Fronie? He's selfish, and a glutton, to boot."
    Aunt Fronie's generous mouth drew into a severe line. "I thought you said you had driven in the Grand Preakness."
    Dirk controlled his laughter. "I did." He deftly took the pie back from Ellen. "Just looking after your health, my sweet pea."
    Ellen snatched it back. "And I'm looking after yours."
    Aunt Fronie watched her pie move back and forth between the people she had thought were perfect lovers. She was confused. She knew that only brave men drove racing cars in the Grand Preakness, and she did admire a brave man. She thought racing was even grander than fur coats, or even whales, for that matter. But she hated selfishness.
    "I can't abide a stingy man," she announced as she took the pie from Ellen. "There's such a thing as sharing, you know." She bent over the table and picked up a knife.
    Ellen put her hand on Aunt Fronie's. "Don't bother to divide that pie. I wouldn't give him a bite if he were on his knees begging."
    She emphasized her false anger by glaring up at Dirk. His shoulders were shaking with controlled mirth, and she dug her elbow into his ribs. She was beginning to enjoy this new role of outraged lover.
    She looked back at her aunt and tried another pout. She figured that by the time this reunion was over, she would have the pout down to an art. "Didn't you hear him call me a copperhead snake?"
    "Did I do that?" Dirk hid his grin by leaning down to nibble her neck. "Let's kiss and make up, honey bunchums."
    As his lips touched her skin, shivers went down Ellen's spine. She wasn't supposed to be enjoying her outraged lover role that much.
    "Honey-bunchums?" she whispered in his ear as she twisted away. "Don't touch me, you cad," she said for Aunt Fronie's benefit. Leaning over the table, she scooped up the pie. "Go try your charms on that Waylings girl."
    Aunt Fronie's mouth tightened even more. A lovers' quarrel was one thing, but another woman was something else altogether. If there was anything she hated more than a stingy man, it was a philandering man.
    "Who's the Waylings girl?" she asked.
    "Ask Dirk," Ellen said.
    By now quite a crowd had gathered at the scene of the fracas. Most of them were only mildly curious, and seeing that it was just a lovers' quarrel, they turned and walked away. Several of the Stanfords, however, loved nothing better than a good brawl. They wouldn't have missed the chocolate-pie incident—as it was later called—if they had been offered a free trip to Las Vegas, which was a mighty fine offer, for these same Stanfords also loved to gamble.
    "Yeah, Dirk," a rawboned teenager with pimples said. "You'd better explain about the Waylings woman. We Stanfords don't cotton to anybody messing with the affections of one of our women."
    Dirk's arm snaked back around Ellen's waist, and he pulled her close against his chest. "I would lay down my life for this woman," he assured the boy. "I never looked at another woman after I met her. Even burned my black book." He winked. "When she gets upset, she always drags in my former acquaintances. You know how that goes." Burying his lips in Ellen's hair he whispered, "Don't get carried away, darling."
    Partly to continue the charade, but mostly to get away from his disturbing embrace, she waved the pie aloft and shouted, "I'll show you 'carried away.' "
    Just at that moment Gigi, who had