MRS. WAGSTAFF: THE WICKED WIDOW OF WAVERLY WAY

Chapter Sixteen

Several days later, after the funeral, she found herself partaking of her usual breakfast in her large dining hall on the ground floor of her mansion, dressed in one of her newly prepared "mourning outfits." As she wiped her lips delicately with her linen napkin, the front door chimes rang out.

"I'm right here, Froelich," she yelled up the stairs, where she assumed the old butler was toiling away in the master bedroom. "I'll get it. It's probably more people about Harold." She stood and pulled down the tight black skirt of her organza fitted sheath and clicked to the massive front door on her leopard skin kid heels. Licking her lips, she opened the door.

Standing there alone, was the young paramedic––the one with the blond crew-cut and startlingly blue eyes. He smiled warmly as he gazed at her slim figure.

"Mrs. Wagstaff," he said. "Sorry to bother you. Just wanted to check back in with you. You seemed so...distraught a few days ago. It must have been such a...shock having your husband die like that...right there in your bed...like that."

"Like what?" Jane asked, not so innocently.

The young man blushed and stared down at his feet.

Jane was delighted with his youthful panic and honesty. She hadn't seduced a man this age in...hmmm...she couldn't remember...since before she'd married Harold. Oh, my, she had been a faithful wife, hadn't she? Well, she wasn't a wife any more. Her new found freedom signaled its presence by a tingling sensation in her groin.

"Why, Mr.....? I'm sorry, I didn't get your name." she said.

"I'm Dan," replied the young man, "Dan Mayfair." She was entranced. He was yummy––the only word that came to mind.

And then Jane paused. Mayfair? Dan Mayfair? "Did you say Mayfair?" she asked the young man.

"Yes, ma'am," he said politely, if a bit awkwardly.

"Hmm," said Jane. "I once knew a young man named Eddie Mayfair. Any relation?" she asked, her curiosity aroused.

"Sure," said young Dan. "He's my father."

"Oh!" exclaimed Jane. "And how is he?"

"Just fine, thank you. When he found out I was on the Wagstaff case, he told me he thought he knew you––that you and he were, well, acquainted many years ago." Dan blushed a bit more when he said, "acquainted." Jane certainly noticed. "Yeah," Dan continued. "He said that he...and you...were, well...very good friends back in the day."

"Yes, that's true, Dan. I did know your father very well." She smiled broadly. She could feel her nipples harden against the fabric of her blouse as fond memories flooded over her.

"Yes," said Dan, "and when I told him I was coming over here today to check on you, he said, 'Good luck.' I'm still wondering why he said that. Would you know, Mrs. Wagstaff?"

"Perhaps, Dan. Perhaps I do."

Jane and Dan had been standing in the doorway all this time, so Jane said, "Would you like to come in? How about some coffee? I could certainly use someone to talk to...if you have time."

"Oh, yes, ma'am," he replied. "I'd be happy to. I was just concerned. Given the circumstances...." he stammered and stopped.

"Come on in, Dan. We can talk about..." she paused for effect, "the circumstances."

She escorted him into the foyer and through the sitting room into the dining room, where she seated him and poured him a cup of coffee from the carafe that Froelich always kept hot and ready. He slurped a few swallows.