Part 7 The Courtship of Ms Jane Thompson

Although Jane herself did not realize it, dinner that night was unusually quiet. There was none of the social banter, manners corrections, or business questions and answers that typically spiced almost every meal at the Thompson house. For her part, Jane could not seem to keep her mind on any subject other than Art/Artemis/Diana Philips.

Several times over the course of the meal, she actually caught herself staring at the silver-tressed vision at the other end of the dining table. Once, Diana had caught her, and quirked an eyebrow at Jane in silently laughing challenge. Jane had torn her eyes from Diana's, but not before she felt the heat of a fiery blush coloring her face.

They'd been good together all those years ago. Jane had forced herself to forget just how good when she'd made the decision to break things off with him. A part of Jane Thompson that she did not want to acknowledge was quietly wondering if they could be that good again. *Surely not,* she growled mentally. "We're both much older now, much more staid. Surely those fires have long since been reduced to embers.* Which momentarily relieved her anxiety, until she remembered just how her guest was dressed, and *that* in turn, reminded her of other games that a young Jane Thompson and Art Philips had played together. Memories which made her blush all the harder.

Jane had excused herself as soon as she possibly could without appearing too rude, and had fled to the privacy of her own apartment. She'd been about to pour herself a stiff brandy when she heard her door open.

"Have I driven you to drink, my love?" an amused voice said from behind Jane.

With great deliberation, Jane removed the stopper from the decanter and poured a perfect inch and a half into the crystal snifter. "May I offer you a drink?" She asked with what she thought was commendable control.

*What IS this??? I am not some green girl to go all fluttery when a man tells me he is pursuing me.* Jane thought as she held up the decanter in offer. *Lord, but I don't even know what -Art- looks like because Diana's the only "one" I've seen.*

"Thank you, Jane. That would be very nice," the lovely, very femininely turned out male replied.

Diana took the proffered snifter and walked over to take a seat on one of Jane's overstuffed chairs. She sighed with obvious pleasure and snuggled into its cushiony depths. "*MUCH* nicer than those stiff backed, rock hard seated things you have in the outer house, Dear. Now, why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"

Jane could not recall when she had last been so physically aware of another person. That alone was enough to make her glare in repressed fury at the smiling source of her distraction. "Damn you, Art," she finally exploded, "Why are you doing this to me? What is it? You want a lover who knows about your little dual identity and you figure I won't freak when you come to bed in makeup and lingerie? Is that why you are supposedly 'courting me'? Because you know what I do here, putting my little boys into frilly undies and skirts? Does that little facet of my persona make me somehow more convenient for you as Art and as Diana?"

The laugh that outburst elicited from Diana oscillated between a feminine giggle and an uncomfortably sexy masculine chuckle. "Ah, Jane," he rasped when he'd finally regained control of himself. "You, my love, are about the most inconvenient woman I have ever met. Nope. I simply intend to correct the single biggest mistake of my entire life, that's all."

"And just *what* may I ask does that mean? What mistake?"

"Lord, woman, but you do the haughty lady of the manor perfectly." Diana set her snifter aside and rose to her feet. Slowly, she began to move towards Jane. "My great mistake, dear heart, is symbolized by the continued nudity of your left ring finger."

To her intense embarrassment, Jane found herself rubbing said nude finger while stepping backward, trying to keep distance between herself and Diana. Diana's grin only widened when Jane's bottom came up hard against the solid, unyielding mass of her desk. Before she could say or do anything else, Jane found herself being thoroughly kissed. Her last rational thought for the next several dizzy minutes was that she'd forgotten how nice lipstick on lipstick felt.

When Diana finally broke the kiss, that damnably satisfied male grin made Jane want to slap him - and she would have - if her corn mush brain could have found her hands at that moment.

"Letting you walk out of my life without a fight. Stupidest damned thing I have ever done. Don't expect to escape this time, Darling. I intend to make you Mrs. Philips, or is that make myself Mrs. Thompson? Or maybe Thompson-Philips. Or is that Philips-Thompson perhaps?"

"Would you please STOP that?" Jane *did* scream that time.

"Okay. For now. We can pick it up tonight after the girls are in bed." Diana planted a quick kiss to Jane's cheek and then returned to her seat. So, now that we've dealt with my evil designs on your lovely, delicate and nubile self, I guess that it is Caitlyn that is still bothering you?"

"Not so nubile anymore, Diana, and it's both you and Caitlyn. I don't know what to do to solve the problem posed by either of you."

"Well, since I refuse to work against my own interests, and since I *know* you are going to fight me tooth and nail as long as one of your cubs is in jeopardy, Momma Bear, why don't we sit down and try to catalog what it is we really know about," and here Diana dropped her voice by octaves, "the Caitlyn Enigma."

"You make this sound like Robert Ludlum mystery thriller."

"Just so. You want to write or shall I?"

For a very long time, Jane stood very still. "I am serious about that, Jane," Diana finally said to break the impasse. "I think it is time we tried to put down everything we know that makes her unique. Maybe we can start pulling things together and making connections." When Jane still did not move, Diana sat forward and ordered, "Sit! I promise not to jump your bones tonight, if that is what you're worried about."

Jane seemed to shake herself and then nodded. "Very well. Okay, Doctor," she said, assuming a seat on the opposite side of the coffee table from Diana. "How do we start?"

"At the beginning. We know that he was tried for assault."

"Yes," Jane murmured, "but something I learned today has bearing on that." And Jane reviewed her earlier call from her investigator student.

"So, he quit dancing for no apparent reason, tried to do something else, i.e., the martial arts, but then was back in a dance class within a few months. Covertly. Okay, let's put that together with what else we know about dance."

"He evidently was quite talented in both of his classes before he came here, and obviously, he does very well in his private, late night recitals, but is hopelessly inept at the class he takes here."

"Except when he's lost in the music and alone," Diana added. "Also, we know that he likes going to class, well enough that he would ask you to take him."

"That just may be a result of the fact that he is well-liked as a person by the other students."

"Perhaps. I'll note it down. All right, let's move on to other anomalies."

"Cosmetics and moving about in heels," Jane offered.

They spent a good twenty minutes going over Caitlyn's history in those two areas, carefully revisiting each time that the boy had been able to perform effectively in either.

"So, the only times you've seen him put on relatively complex make up was on those videotapes of him dancing."

"He did a relatively nice job at the hospital, but that wasn't all that difficult. Actually, it was quite subtle."

"Very odd," Diana said. "No other issues with clothing or grooming? I mean, I have watched her and she seems to be quite comfortable in the skirts and dresses she wears. She sits and moves like quite the lady."

"She's been in them for over five months, Diana," Jane said with some disgust. "I would hope she would have learned to wear them correctly by this time."

"She doesn't move in heels or wear cosmetics yet, Jane. It may mean nothing. So, other than the make up she has to put on herself, there was no problem with hair or anything like that?"

"No, not rea . . . " Jane stopped in mid sentence. "You know, there was an incident, although at the time I simply put it down as the expected, if somewhat more obstinate, reaction of a boy being put into curls. The second month he was here, I took him to the beauty parlor. I was starting to get unhappy with his progress and wanted to do something that would really get his attention."

"Ah, the metaphoric 'two-by-four' in the face rule of leadership?"

"Yes. Well, you see what relatively long hair she has? Well, I was going to have Sandy turn it into a mass of curls - really "Shirley Temple" her. Sandy started to cut her hair and Caitlyn just lost it on me. I arrived there and saw her, still with the white protective sheet about her, standing in the corner facing off with Sandy. Nothing we could do or say would get her back into that chair, and short of restraining her to the chair once we got her there, we couldn't have gone near her safely with a sharp implement. She simply would not agree to cooperate or move from that corner until she had extracted my word that Sandy wouldn't cut her hair."

"Evidently you kept your word." Diana said with approval.

"I learned early that you can never tell a direct lie or fail to keep a promise with these kids. She still got a very "big hair" set, but she looked more like Farrah Fawcett than Shirley Temple. Unfortunately, that did not bother her very much, even when every adolescent male within twenty yards of us at the mall gawked at her."

"So, her hair being long was important to her. Important enough, again, to dare your wrath. Interesting. That's it?"

"As far as clothing and grooming goes. Betty Franson reached her at the Dress Shoppe, but then, putting on fifteen or twenty dresses in a semi-public room is daunting even if you don't have something odd hidden in your panties. Other than that, she does most other things passably. . .quite well, in fact. She cooks and cleans up without a fuss, keeps her room neat and doesn't mind helping Marie keep the place dusted and the like. Oh, and she nurses Marie like a cross between Florence Nightingale and Hypolyta, Queen of the Amazons."

"Quite a conundrum your Caitlyn, Jane. You know, it seems to me that an awful lot of his troubles date back to when he suddenly stopped going to dance class with his Mother. At least if your investigator's source - who was that? The fine arts teacher?" Jane nodded and Diana continued, "If her account is accurate."

"She is only one person, Diana, and she is the only one who mentioned anything of the kind."

"True, true," Diana agreed. "Still, I would sure like to know why she quit dancing as abruptly as she did."

"Well, I can ask. In fact, I am still expecting a call from her Mother."

Diana nodded, and then looked at the clock on Jane's mantle. "My goodness, look how late it's gotten. I must be off to my bed. We'll think more clearly about this tomorrow after a nice hot bath and a good night's sleep." She rose and blew a coy kiss in Jane's direction. "Nightie-night, sweetheart. Dream lovely hot and sexy dreams about me." And with a saucy wink, she was gone.

For the second time that day, a speechless Jane Thompson watched as her former lover sauntered out the door of her rooms. "I really, really don't *believe* this," she said again in great exasperation. "And I *don't* have *time* for this right now."

~---------------~

Morpheus refused to visit Jane and grant her repose. Her every nerve was on edge; every muscle was wire-taut. She'd given up laying down and was prowling her quarters like an enraged lioness. "How *dare* he do this to me?" she snarled more than once.

"I refuse to let him get to me this way," she told herself and headed back to her bedroom. On her way to her huge canopied bed, Jane happened to glance and see herself in the mirror, and stopped dead in her tracks.

Jane was not a vain woman, but what she saw in that mirror at that moment was certainly worthy of vanity. A lifetime of horse riding and keeping up with energetic teenagers had kept her body trim and firm. The filmy nightgown and peignoir hugged her tight curves and small waist. Her long auburn hair hung loose and free. Her eyes were wild and her mouth was open. *My god,* she thought, *I am literally panting.*

"DAMN the man!" she spit out as she stormed out of her bedroom toward the hall doorway. "He's not getting away with this. There is simply *no* way he is going to get the better of me!"

~----------~

Diana hadn't been able to sleep either. The supposed remedy for what was currently ailing him, a freezing cold shower, had twice failed to cool his blood. So he'd slipped on a silk robe and had taken a seat by the bed to read. Without much more success.

"That has to be the fifth time I've tried to read that page," he sighed. Just then, the door to his room slammed open. His head snapped up in time to see a wild-haired valkyrie in black satin and silk bearing down on him, raw fire burning in her eyes.

He started to stand. "Janeeeee??" was all he managed to get out before his mouth was being ravished. For her part, Jane never even slowed, all but tackling her prey and carrying him bodily to the bed where she followed him down onto the thick, satin-slippery comforter, her mouth still locked with his, her hands running wild over him.

A long time later, they lay entwined, their bodies damp and replete from their loving. "Next time," Jane murmured, "I want you properly made up. I like the way you taste with lipstick on."

The chuckle that answered her was pure male. "Glad you know that there will be a next time, sweet Jane."

"I am stubborn, Artemis/Diana, but I am not stupid. The only way you are sleeping alone anytime from now until the end of your vacation is if you fall asleep in the sun by the pool."

Jane gave a soft, throaty giggle that would have amazed any of her boys, and then shimmied herself to get a little closer to her lover's body. His instantaneous male response pleased her greatly. "Hey, Janey, be careful, or I won't let you go to sleep for another hour or so," Diana warned.

Jane repeated the movement, more slowly and deliberately this time. "Oh, promises, promises, old man," she teased.

"OLD MAN??" he growled pulling her closer. "I'll show you who's old, missy."

Well over the aforementioned hour later, a sleepy voice sighed. "Tomorrow night, sweetheart. I will make myself up for you tomorrow night."

Only a soft, purringly feminine snore answered.

~---------------~

Jane managed to slip back to her own rooms just before dawn so no one in the house knew where and how she'd spent the night. Of course, when she couldn't quite keep the goofy smile off her face at the breakfast table, she figured she'd given the game away.

Actually, all *that* did was terrify Caitlyn and unnerve Darla. Neither be-skirted boy could begin to imagine what newly devised terror of Jane's would make her smile like *that*, and all the time, too.

Jane would have been pleased to know her reputation was still working for her, if she'd been at all concerned such minor matters, but Jane was too caught up in the throes of rediscovered love. As a result, the day, for the most part, passed uneventfully. Marie had to go to the doctor's office for a checkup, and Caitlyn was due at dancing class. Jane took Marie in the station wagon and Diana drove Caitlyn in Jane's Lincoln.

Dance class went much as the last one had with nothing new noted by Diana's keen, if covert, surveillance. The day's best news was that Marie had been given permission to get up and move around on crutches. The only admonition had been to take it easy when her knee started to hurt too much.

It was still too soon for her to be able to resume running the household, but Caitlyn once again had a solution. "You can sit in the kitchen or where ever, and supervise me. I'll be your legs until you are moving around more easily."

"*You* just want to be close by so that you can nag me back into a chair when ever *you* think I am overdoing, cherie. You don't fool me for an instant, Miss," Marie had accused, waggling an admonitory finger at the unrepentant Caitlyn.

"It'll work," was Caitlyn's pert retort.

"And an excellent solution since I know you all too well, Marie," Jane had interjected with a stern look at her best friend. "I think I can count on Caitlyn to keep you on the short leash you need just now."

"HAH! Short leash?!? More like keeping hold of the scruff of my neck." Under the power of Jane's unblinking stare, Marie finally subsided. "Oh, all right, but just you wait, cherie, until I am on my feet again. I have had all this time to study glamor magazines and I have found some make up tricks that will look just *wonderful* on you. I can't *wait* to show you off all fixed up like that."

The threat had been made in a teasing tone with a wide, cheerful smile on Marie's face. No one in the room could possibly have taken her words as a threat of actual retribution. No one except Caitlyn, who again went rigid and lost all the color in her cheeks. "I . . . I'm sorry, Ms. Marie," she managed to choke out. "I . . I didn't mean to impose."

Marie immediately hobbled over to the girl and took her in her arms, crutches dangling. "Ah, cherie, don't worry. I was just fooling with you. I promise, I won't do anything like that, okay?"

Jane watched as her student slowly relaxed under Marie's ministrations and promises. Finally, she nodded roughly. "Okay, then," Marie said more brusquely. Now, into my kitchen with you. You haven't *too* done badly in my absence, but I want to cook my own dinner tonight."

"All right, Ms. Marie," Caitlyn said softly.

Marie nodded as she began moving toward the kitchen. "And Caitlyn?"

"Yes, Ms. Marie?"

"My friends have the privilege of using my given name. I would be pleased and honored if you would call me Marie.

Only Jane saw the look of utter disbelief during the barest instant before an explosion of joy that lit her student's face.

*And another unfitted piece of the puzzle becomes visible.*

~----------~

The house was redolent with wonderful smells and aromas, indicating Marie was return to power in her kitchenly domain, when the phone in Jane's office rang.

Jane answered the phone. "Ms. Thompson? This is Eleanora Jeffries."

*Well, I knew this was coming.* "Good afternoon, Mrs. Jeffries. I am glad you called."

"Perhaps you won't be so very glad after I have my say, Ms. Thompson." Jane could hear the suppressed emotion in the other woman's voice. "I want to know what is happening with my son. I was given to understand that most of your students are all but finished with your program after five months. I have been expecting you to get in touch with me regarding travel plans and such for his return home, but I have not heard anything from you in over a month when you told me he was having problems, but trying."

*And there's not much more I can say at this time, either,* Jane thought. "Yes, Mrs. Jeffries. That is true, however, I have had students stay much longer than five months as well."

"Ms. Thompson, I am not talking about other students. I am talking about *my* son who has a sentence to juvenile hall hanging over his head. Now, I have this private investigator saying that he is representing you asking questions about my son. I want to know exactly what is going on, Ms. Thompson."

*Remember to call him Carlton, Jane,* she reminded herself. *The Jeffries only got a very sketchy idea of what it is that I do here because Ruth wanted to make sure they'd accept the bargain.* "Carlton has shown some improvement since last we spoke, Mrs. Jeffries. Not as much as I would like, but I am definitely not displeased with he. . .him."

"Ms. Thompson." and now Mrs. Jeffries voice became icy cold. "What . . . is . . .my . . . son . . .failing . . .to . . do?"

*Damn. How can I tell her that her son doesn't walk well in high heels, can't seem to put on make up properly and oh by the way, seems to be hiding the fact that *he* is a very accomplished and skilled _ballerina_!?!?!* "If you will recall, I told you that my program was aimed at developing grace and manners under pressure."

"My son, except for when he has been forced to protect himself from a vicious attack by those bullies, is a perfect gentleman, Ms. Thompson. As for *grace*, my son has studied dance for almost ten years and he was superb at it. Unless he has had a late growth spurt, I cannot believe that there is *anything* deficient in his grace of movement."

"No growth spurt, Mrs. Jeffries," Jane responded honestly. "But he has not shown any of that grace in public."

"Mrs. Thompson. I am ticketed on the next flight to Providence. I have reservations with the hotel in Kingston. I will expect you to call upon me there tomorrow morning at ten. Unless you do, I will be on your doorstep by eleven."

"That violates your agreement with Ruth, Mrs. Jeffries. I could vacate his suspended sentence and ship him immediately off to that juvenile hall." Jane hoped she'd believe that threat because there was no way Jane would ever do it - at least not until she had solved the Caitlyn Enigma.

"So what? According to that probation officer, my son is mere days away from that happening anyway. This way, I will at least know what was so unacceptable about my son that the woman who Judge Ruth praised to the heavens as the savior of countless boys has been unable to help him."

"I see," Jane said very quietly and then sighed. "Very well. I will see you tomorrow at ten, but for the sake of your son, Mrs. Jeffries, please stay away from my house. Whatever chance I still have to help your son could well go down the drain if he sees you in his current situation."

"Then I will expect you to be there, Ms. Thompson. And I would suggest you explain to me in some detail exactly what this so-called situation of his is all about. Perhaps it just might be better for him to be in juvenile hall. At least there I could keep an eye on his keepers and hold *them* to account for what they were doing for and to my son."

"I will see you tomorrow," Jane repeated stolidly. "Good bye."

Jane set the phone down, her knuckles white under the strain, her eyes stinging and burning from repressed tears. That was how Diana found her. "Jane, what is the matter?" Diana asked as she moved to her lover's side.

"Oh, God, Diana," Jane said, her voice little more than a harsh whisper. "I am going to lose Caitlyn before I even get the chance to figure out how to help her."

"Settle down, dear. Come over to the sofa and tell me all about it," Diana said gently as she moved Jane firmly away from her phone.

"That was Caitlyn's Mother. . ."