Crazy for You Read online

  Cover and Interior Design by Smoking Gun Publishing

  Copyright © 2013 Claire Applewhite. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the copyright holder, except for brief quotations used in a review.

  This is a work of fiction, and is produced from the author’s imagination. People, places and things mentioned in this novel are used in a fictional manner.

  ISBN: 978-1-940586-00-7

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2013914595

  Visit us on the web at www.smokinggunpublishing.com

  Published by Smoking Gun Publishing, LLC

  Printed in the United States of America

  Second Edition: August 2013

  Acknowledgements

  A cruel tyrant or an elusive butterfly, love can be poison or candy. Consider “love at first sight.” Phenomena or rubbish? What price is too high for the love of a lifetime?

  The popularity of internet dating sites suggests that people will pay—and pay—for a stab at such a love. Yet, computers cannot predict attraction or create chemistry. Could it be that the love of a lifetime may not match a “profile?” After all, people are not machines. The heart knows what the mind cannot.

  The late mystery writer Ed McBain observed that, in his opinion, love or money lurks in the shadows of every murder. In the story you are about to read, all the wrong people have an overabundance of both—in all the wrong places.

  I would like to thank those who taught me what I know about love. My deepest gratitude to my dear family, to all volunteers who unselfishly contribute their time and resources to non-profit organizations, Dale McAdams and Terry Schumaier, my Airedales, Jack and Lola, and finally, my husband, Thomas Applewhite, M.D., my own “love at first sight.” The world is brighter because you lived.

  Thank you to the faculty at the Writers Institute at Washington University, to my mentors, Lisa Smith and the late Linda Houle, and my editor, Cindy Davis, as well as my multi-talented assistant, Lois Mans, for their expertise, patience and confidence in my work. Their invaluable knowledge continues to guide me.

  Now, on with the show!

  Claire Applewhite

  August, 2013

  Dedication

  For Tom

  A ticking clock, the setting sun,

  Once I walked alone.

  Years ago and yesterday,

  I took you for my own.

  Winter, spring, summer, fall,

  Our world goes ‘round the sun.

  Change, grow, harvest, plant,

  You’ll always be the One.

  To our tomorrows,

  Claire

  One

  Dan wouldn’t have been sitting at the Cinnabar Club without Bunny Dingwerth. He sipped the fine wine and admired a gleaming chandelier. He was a smart enough guy. On a good day, a hard-worker, and on a better one, better looking than most. Still, he knew what thousands of smart, hard-working, good-looking guys didn’t have.

  “Danny?” Bunny giggled, and twined her hair through her slender fingers. Her straight, white teeth glistened in the glow of soft candlelight. “I’ll be right back, Danny. I need to go to the little girls’ room.” She snatched her cute pink clutch purse, and pranced among the tables.

  In that rare moment, Bunny piqued Dan’s curiosity. Puzzled, he sat motionless while Bunny floated among the tables, first to one friend, and then another, to chat, chat, chat. For twenty minutes or so, she’d posed by his side in stony silence—punctuated by peals of silly giggles—and now, it was chat, chat, chat.

  Time for another glass of wine. He inspected the rolls in the breadbasket and chose a brown one with sesame seeds. He didn’t like rolls, especially ones with seeds. He wasn’t hungry. Yet, he nibbled, chewed, swallowed, his eyes glazed with regret. What bothered him so much?

  He sliced a corner from a pat of butter and smeared it on a tattered piece of bread. After all, things were going well, weren’t they? He was Vice-President in charge of something—well nothing really—at his father-in-law’s printing company. They had a perfect little—well not so little, June Senior wouldn’t allow little—so it was a perfect larger house nice and close to June Senior. Bunny had lots of time for tennis at the Cinnabar Tennis Club, and now, he had lots of new Bunny friends. Why then, did he feel so confused?

  Poverty and shame haunted Dan’s youth. Now, his wealth exceeded any and all expectations. A football scholarship and marriage to a future heiress won him the future of his Plan. All he needed to do was savor it, and smile The Smile. How Bunny loved that smile—the one she said made him look like Tom Cruise. He took another sip of wine, and another, followed by yet another one. He floated, high above the chaos. Maybe he could fly…

  “Ready to order yet, Mr. Hunter?”

  Dan glanced up to see Rocco, his favorite waiter. What a relief! “You know how it is, Rocco. Waiting for the new wife.” Rocco winked.

  “How long you been married now, Mr. Hunter?”

  Dan smiled The Smile. “Almost a year now.”

  “Ah, newlyweds.” Rocco nodded. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Anything else I can get for you sir?”

  “No, nothing. I’ll just…wait…right—”

  “Sir?” The clinking glasses, the scraping silverware, the buzzing conversation—all noise had been drenched by the sight of her—the lady in the open doorway, luminous in the beams of a full August moon.

  “Mr. Hunter,” Rocco said. “Are you not feeling well?”

  Dan had never seen a woman so exquisite, not in all his thirty years. Quite simply, she was everything Bunny was not. With her dark hair, dark, almond-shaped eyes, and sensuous mouth, she might have been Ava Gardner, his favorite movie star from the Forties.

  Rocco leaned closer to him and whispered. “You know her, sir?”

  Dan shook his head. He struggled to smile at the exotic stranger. He couldn’t.

  “She is very beautiful, eh?” Rocco said. “But, a little too late for you—eh, my friend?”

  Rocco chuckled, and nudged Dan in the ribs. “And look! The Mrs. She is right on time.” Entranced, Dan turned to see Bunny, prancing across the dining room toward him. Her slick lip-gloss shined like new patent leather.

  “Hi Danny!” Bunny giggled, and her button-like nose scrunched. She pressed her cheek against his, and nuzzled his lips. “I’ll bet you were wondering where I was.” A cold stare glowed from her eyes. “Or, were you?”

  “What? What did you say, Bunny?” Dan’s desperate gaze scanned the room for That Woman.

  “Wondering about me, Danny. Don’t you know what I mean?”

  “Sure. Sure, I do.”

  Dan knew one thing. This heady rush of magic felt new and intoxicating—and dangerous. He liked it and he craved it. But, he needed much more.

  Later, in their darkened bedroom, Dan’s feelings obsessed him. He studied the dancing shadows on the wall, bathed in the moonlight. Unaware, Bunny slumbered beside him. This was crazy. That Woman didn’t fit his Plan, if indeed it still existed. Until today, he thought he knew Daniel Hunter, where he was headed, and how he would arrive. He’d pulled it off too. Then, beneath the light of a full moon, “she” walked into the Cinnabar Club and changed everything.

  Be rational, Dan, it’s just a woman. Lust had overcome him, that’s all. He had to forget this madness. He tossed against the sheets to face the windows. The white moonlight startled him. He had never seen a moon so full and luminous.

  He lay on his back now, staring at the ceiling fan. This craziness wouldn’t end, he decided, until one thing happened. He must find That Woman. She’d come to the Cinnab
ar Club to meet someone. Who was that person? Rocco might know. If he didn’t, he could find out.

  Finally, Dan Hunter had a Plan. He slept, wrapped in a white, bright blanket of light.

  Two

  The Dingwerth Mansion

  Friday Evening, around six o’clock

  “Please pass the mashed potatoes, Dan.” June smiled now, her little yellow teeth outlined by a thin, red mouth. “I just love mashed potatoes, don’t you? But, not with too much salt, not too much butter, not too much milk, and heaven help us, not too much pepper. I mean, you can just have too much of anything, don’t you think so, Dan?”

  Dan flashed The Smile. He knew his perfect white teeth, devilish green eyes, and impish grin could charm a cobra—Tom Cruise at his finest. Once again, like so many times before this one, he charmed June Senior. Perfect. He passed the mashed potatoes, enrobed by a massive bone china thing that he couldn’t wait to unload. It, like anything and everything “Dingwerth”, was just “too much.”

  Only two years ago, Dan couldn’t have pictured life with the Dingwerths. He’d done very well, he told himself. Just look at the two of them, he and Bunny. Her real name was June after her mother, but everyone called her Bunny, go figure. A new job, a new home, and a new boss, with a most eligible, well-connected, young—did he mention rich?—daughter. Well yes, Bunny was rich, very. But he hadn’t allowed himself to be bought, absolutely not. He felt The Stare. What did June Senior want that she didn’t already have?

  “So Dan,” she said, just before she gulped a ball of mashed potatoes that traveled the length of her crepe-draped neck, “when are you and Bunny going to give me a grandchild? I can’t wait until I’m a Granny, or maybe Grams, or should I say Gramma? Well, it’s important, you know, because I’ll be seeing little June or Giles everyday, won’t I, and…”

  Once again, Dan smiled. “Actually, Bunny and I have been talking, and well, I thought she would have mentioned it…Bunny, did you tell June about the sportscaster job offer I received last month? You know, the one we were thinking about taking? Bunny? Remember Amarillo?”

  “Nooo…” Bunny whispered and turned her face to one side, away from her mother’s view. “Danny, really. Not now. Mommy isn’t up to it.”

  “Young Daniel,” Giles said, “what’s all this? Why would we or anyone else be interested in a sportscaster named—what was it, Daniel-Armadillo, you say? My God.” Giles gulped brandy from a goblet and shook his narrow, balding head. “Can’t imagine it. Well Daniel, go on then, go on.”

  June’s mouth quivered and gaped. The fine creases caked her mouth with scarlet lip-stickies. She simply stared at the mashed potatoes and gulped.

  Bunny’s lip-gloss glistened like new aluminum foil. “Daddy, Danny is talking about a job, silly. He’d be a sportscaster in Amarillo. It’s really a step up for him.”

  “But Bunnykins, Amarillo is in Texas. That’s really quite a commute for young Daniel. But, if he thinks he can do it, why, well…I can’t imagine…whatever… Giles gazed onto the expansive lawn that ended at the massive iron gates, the ones embellished with the massive golden D. “Texas is quite the drive.”

  “So that’s where Amarillo is,” Bunny said. “Well, Danny likes his car, don’t you Danny? And he really loves to drive it.”

  June Senior stared at Daniel with the gaze of an executioner. Dan sipped some iced tea and braced himself for the brewing soliloquy, the one that would swirl like a Texas tornado. He knew he shouldn’t have taken the seat beside June Senior. Why had he done just that? Because the Junebug told him to do it, that’s why. Now, he would pay for his compliance. He reached across the table and patted his wife’s hand, the one that sported the diamond that June Senior had selected, the one Mr. Dingwerth had financed, and smiled The Smile.

  Giles swirled the last of the brandy in his snifter. He seemed deep in thought. Finally, he shattered the tense silence with a voice that boomed from the head of the table. “I’m quite sure young Daniel here,” he said, with a cold-eyed glimpse in Dan’s direction, “did not intend disrespect toward my wife and Bunny’s mother. Did you, Daniel?”

  Dan felt like a caged animal. He couldn’t even smile The Smile. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’m going to step out for a moment to get a little air.” Maybe a whole lot of it, he thought. Maybe a whole country full of it.

  A muffled chorus of whispers resounded; Dan heard them and he didn’t care. He shuffled from the dining room. His face felt scalded. The old place felt like a maze. He stumbled down a long corridor now, terrazzo floor beneath his shaky feet, the plaster walls covered in family portraits featuring God Knows Who. A draft brushed his cheek, and the air felt cool against his flushed skin. He gripped a suspicious doorknob on the right, and discovered a broom closet. Nope, keep walking.

  A light beamed under a heavy wooden door farther down, on the left side of the hall. Could it be? Suddenly, the door cracked. A small, stooped woman appeared in the dim doorway, dressed in a faded black dress. A frayed white apron covered the dress, stiff with starch. “Help you, sir?” she said in a meek, yet suspicious tone.

  Dan almost burst into laughter. Help me? Help me? No one can help me. “Just looking for the bathroom,” he said.

  Somehow, this diminutive woman had succeeded in making him feel like a fool. For this, he could have remained seated beside June Senior. This woman half-frowned at him, staring while she spoke. “You shouldn’t be in this part of the house, didn’t you know? The bathroom is in the other wing, by the patio. Come, I’ll show you.”

  Dan followed the small woman’s short, clipped steps down the cavernous hallway. Her stooped back and furrowed face belied the flight of her feet. At the end of the corridor, she turned and gestured toward an open doorway. “A bathroom?”

  Dan nodded. “Thanks, um… Excuse me, what is your name?”

  The woman bowed her head. “Felicity, Sir.”

  “Felicity. I’ll remember that. By the way, my name is Dan. Dan Hunter.”

  Felicity’s expression changed, ever so subtly. A knowing look came over her, one he didn’t understand, nor could he explain her reply.

  “I know who you are,” she said.

  The Hunter Bedroom—Later That Evening

  Dan lay on his back, staring at the ceiling fan, wondering how he could endure decades of Sunday dinners with June Senior—June Senior and her mashed potatoes. Would he become Giles Dingwerth? His gut wrenched. NO. No, he would not. God! He just had to find that ravishing woman.

  Well, Rocco might know where to find her. If he didn’t, Rocco could figure it out. She’d come to the Cinnabar to meet someone. If only he knew that much, it might calm his jangled nerves. For a little extra dinero, Rocco could work a little bit harder. Now, Dan felt relieved, and yet, oddly agitated. At least now though, he had a Plan. Almost immediately, he felt much better.

  He tossed against the sheets, first facing the windows, then, Bunny’s side of the bed. For the first time Dan stared at the bleached, golden hair streaming down her back and wondered about her nickname. On one of their first dates, she told him she had been named after her mother, June Senior. So, why did everyone call her Bunny? He wondered if Bunny knew. June Senior knew, but after today, she probably wouldn’t tell him, at least for awhile. Well, it didn’t matter. It just didn’t matter.

  He rolled over and fell into a deep sleep.

  The Following Morning—The Hunter Kitchen

  “Danny,” Bunny said, “do you remember the first time we met?”

  She lounged at the breakfast table, wrapped in a light pink chenille robe, her golden hair gathered in a loose ponytail at the back of her head. Plush white bunny slippers adorned her pink, pedicured feet. Her cereal bowl brimmed with Lucky Charms cereal, and she poked at the marshmallow moons and hearts with her spoon, frowning at—what? What had captured her attention?

  Dan couldn’t possibly fathom what went through that fluffy mind sometimes, and this was one of those moments. He sipped at the steaming coffee in his bone c
hina cup. Okay, he would at least try to humor her, but his mind, he had to admit, was elsewhere. “Sure I do. How could I ever forget it?”

  Bunny scrunched her nose and scooped a heaping spoonful of Lucky Charms into her perfect pink mouth. “I wondered.” Dan took another cautious sip and stared at her. Bunny wondered?

  “To this day, Bunny, it remains the most embarrassing day of my life. You know that. Do you think I liked starting the first day of my college career with my screwed up football scholarship they said they didn’t give me, and twenty dollars to my name? And then, to have the guy at the registration table say he would cancel my registration unless I could get it all straightened out, or better yet, why don’t I just write him a big fat check, right there in front of everyone, including you. I’m not sure why or how you ever wanted to have anything to do with someone like me after that. Actually, now that I think about it, ‘how we met’ isn’t one of my happiest memories of all time, especially of us.”

  Now, Bunny giggled. A line of milk dribbled from the corner of her mouth. Dan glared at her. Because…well, because it almost seemed like Bunny had deliberately set out to wound him, but…but, that was absurd. Bunny wasn’t clever enough to hurt him. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and rose to face another day with Giles Dingwerth. His empty briefcase rested beside his white enameled chair. Now, he bent to grab it, and as he stood up, he glimpsed the smirk on Bunny’s face. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she had mocked him. But, he decided, no. That couldn’t be possible.

  “Something wrong, Danny?” she said. The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed eight times.

  “No,” he said. “I mean, why were you wondering if I remember how we met? Why would it matter now?”

  With a sly gleam in her eyes, Bunny crossed her long, tanned legs. The robe slipped apart, exposing a length of firm thigh. She flipped her top foot, and the beady bunny eyes on the slippers bounced. “Rocco called last night. He said he had the information you wanted. And I said, Rocco…from the Club, Rocco? And he said, yes, Mrs. Hunter. But you know Danny, I didn’t like the way I kept feeling he wanted to hang up on me.”