by Lynne Gentry
Bertie and Cotton maneuvered around the dresser blocking the door and stood on the plastic.
“What do you think?” Leona asked, hands on hips and a prideful smile on her face.
“I think this place is so small if you get bit by a mosquito you won’t have room to swell.” Her mother’s standard assessment of Leona’s choices was no surprise. “Why don’t you spend some of your money and build a house on one of the lake lots close to me and Cotton? There are still several prime spots for sale right on the water. Your lawyer bought one. He lives on one of the private coves now, you know?
“No, I didn’t.” Leona tried to picture Saul motoring about on a fishing boat, sipping sweet tea in the clubhouse, or leisurely strolling the banks at sunset. “And I don’t have a lawyer.”
“That Levy fellow doesn’t represent you?” Bertie asked.
“I fired him.”
“Oh.” Mother hated being the last to know things.
“Well, I fired him and then I apologized and ... truth is ... I’m not sure where we stand at the moment.” While many areas in Leona’s relationship with her mother had improved since she’d eloped with Cotton, feeling the need to justify her every decision wasn’t one of them.
“Who’s handling your affairs?” Bertie asked.
“I am.”
She braced for a lecture on her lack of experience managing such large sums. Instead, her mother said, “You’re a very capable and smart woman, Leona. You’ll do fine.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Bertie said.
Encouraged by such rare praise, Leona waved her hand toward the freshly painted walls. “So, what do you think of the color?”
“It’s lovely.”
“Who are you, and what have you done with my mother?” Leona asked.
“People can change, Leona.” Her mother had changed since she married Cotton and if this little snippet of praise was any indication, she’d changed for the better.
“I want Maddie to feel at home.”
“If you want her to stay, you should have left the beige.” Bertie shrugged at Leona’s pointed glare. “A zebra can’t change its stripes overnight.”
“Home with a new spin, then.” Talking to her mother was like strolling a field of hidden land mines.
“David told me the news.”
Leona reached over and put the lid on the paint can. “I’m trying not to worry.”
“Since when?”
“Since I decided I’d never liked beige and would never paint anything that bland color again.”
“There is cause for concern, though, isn’t there?”
The real reason for her mother’s visit suddenly became clear. “Yes.”
“What are you doing to ensure my great grandchild arrives safely?”
“I tried to have Saul convince the hospital board to hire a maternal-fetal specialist, but he didn’t think my idea was viable.”
“You fired him?”
“You know, Mother. I don’t think I ever fully understood how difficult it was for you to sit back and watch me make decisions you didn’t agree with until now. As much as I hate to admit it, Saul was right. Amy’s prenatal health care is David and Amy’s decision.”
Bertie patted the back of her hair, her default tick when she knew she’d pushed too far. “I think Great Granny sounds terribly old, don’t you?”
“I dare anyone to call you Granny.”
Bertie’s gaze looked the room over. “You know, if you’re not going to invest your millions in an expensive lake property, you can afford to hire your redecorating done, right?”
Relieved her mother had chosen to abandon her attempts to interfere in David’s life, Leona smiled. “Painting gives me a chance to think about things.”
“Things like whether or not you’re going to Africa?” Bertie asked.
“Now, Bertie,” Cotton put his hand on her mother’s shoulder. “We agreed we weren’t going to pry.”
“It’s not prying when it comes to my child, dear,” Bertie replied, sweetly putting her new husband in his place.
“How did you find out about—” Leona stopped. “Let me guess. The Storys.”
“Nola Gay and Etta May heard Roy telling Maxine and Howard all about his plans to show you the world.” Bertie took her hand. “Frankly, I’m thrilled for you, Leona.”
“Mother, I can’t go.”
“Why not?”
“David and Amy’s baby for starters.”
“Didn’t you just say you delivered and raised two perfectly wonderful children without me hovering over you?”
“That was different.”
“Leona, I don’t think your reluctance has a thing to do with the pending arrival of your grandchild.” Bertie took her hands. “But it has everything to do with your reluctance to love again.”
“J.D. used up all my love.”
“My dear, sweet girl, you’ve got more love in you than ten of me.” Bertie paused, obviously weighing her words carefully. “Life is short. If you get a second chance to dance, then dance with everything that is in you.” Bertie looped her arm through Cotton’s. “That’s why this man and I are setting off for a Mediterranean cruise tomorrow. We didn’t know about David’s little announcement and I’m afraid it’s too late to change our plans.”
“Cruising?”
“Dancing our way from Catalonia to Greece.”
She’d always thought it would be romantic to dance upon the top deck of a beautiful ship, but deep water and shallow pockets had always kept her from thinking such a dream would ever come true. “Sounds divine.”
“It’s not too late to come with us.”
“It is for me, Mother.”
“I booked an extra passage in hopes you’d change your mind.”
“You know how I am about water, Mother.” Leona’s phone dinged. She froze. Wide-eyed. Too afraid to peek at the possibility Saul had responded after all.
Bertie pointed at Leona’s pocket. “Are you going to answer that?”
“It can wait.”
“What if it’s one of the kids?”
“You’re right.” Leona slowly pulled her phone from her pocket. One quick glance and she could tell the message was from Saul. Wait. She glanced again, her brow furrowing as she read. His response was not the response she’d expected. She looked up, her hands trembling. “I need a moment.”
Cotton was the first to catch the quandary on her face. “Bertie, if we’re going to take the boat out to catch the sunset, we need to get a move on.”
Bertie pointed at Leona’s phone. “Tell him you’ll meet him.” A sly smile crossed her mother’s lips.
“You don’t know who it is.”
“Doesn’t matter. He makes your eyes light up.” Bertie took Cotton’s arm. “Oh, and you might want to change out of those paint clothes before you go, Leona.”
“He’s just a friend, Mother.”
Bertie smiled at Cotton. “Friends make the best husbands.”
Leona waited until Cotton had backed her mother’s new car from the drive. She read the text slowly. Word for word. Again. And again.
Would you like to practice the dance steps we learned together?
Together? Saul remembered their dance. Had it meant as much to him as it had to her?
Leona glanced at the paint drying in the tray. She poked a hole into the paint’s thin crust with the screwdriver. Wet, vibrant color poured through the opening. Life beneath the surface.
Yes. When? She responded.
Will pick you up in an hour.
Heart thumping she tapped out Ok.
Bring your dance shoes. And a sweater.
CHAPTER TWELVE
While her heart was soaring, her feet were cement blocks she could barely drag to the door. What if dancing with Saul Levy was a big mistake? She hated making mistakes.
“It’s such a beautiful afternoon, do you mind if I put the top down on the car?” Saul asked as he led her to the passenger door of
his Lexus.
He’d arrived thirty minutes early, which didn’t surprise her. That he looked like a man more comfortable on the golf course than the courtroom had taken her breath. He’d traded his suit for an untucked Burberry oxford the same sky blue color of his eyes. White cotton twill shorts exposed his tan, muscular legs. But it was the boat shoes without socks that made her grateful she’d chosen capris and strappy sandals instead of the skirt and hose she’d first considered.
“Glad you remembered your sweater.” He opened the passenger door. “The evening breeze off the lake is often chilly.”
“The lake?” The terrifying sensation of the car careening over a bridge and plunging into water swept through her. Who was left to save her?
Saul slid into the driver’s seat. “My dock mimics the feel of the boards at Kendra’s studio.”
She’d never pictured Saul Levy as an outdoor man, let alone someone who appreciated the feel of swaying boards beneath his dance shoes. Throat closing, she gasped, “We’re dancing on the water?”
Alerted by the panic in her voice, he cut her a sideways glance. “I’ve got a screened in patio if you’re worried about the mosquitos.”
Unwilling to let him see another of her faults, she let out a slow breath, “Mother mentioned you’d moved to the lake.”
“Bertie and Cotton regularly troll my cove in that monster fishing rig of theirs.”
“It’s bigger than my house, but they love it.” She’d only been to Bertie and Cotton’s home on the lake one time because of their attempt to coax her aboard the Good Investment, as they’d christened the sleek bass boat. And they’d made that trip at night so she didn’t have to see the water, but she knew it was there.
Truth be known, her decision to buy a small house in town rather than near her mother had been influenced as much by her desire to stay away from deep water as it was to keep her fortune a secret. Since J.D. died, she’d felt like she was drowning. She’d finally floated to the surface enough to move into her own house and learn to dance. Conquering her fear of water could wait.
Saul pushed a button on the dash and the car purred to life. “Ready?”
She worked to get a handle on the panic as they sped past the city limits. After all, she was fairly confident Saul wasn’t planning to throw her in the lake. The man simply wanted some privacy to work on their dance steps.
Enveloped in the plush, soft leather of his Lexus, the thought hit her. Was this a date? When Roy took her to dance lessons, his overt advances had made it clear he considered their time together a date. She and Saul had never been on an official date. Technically, he’d called this a practice session.
Was she splitting hairs? Her time in front of the mirror and pacing the living room window had all the markings of a woman anticipating the arrival of her date. If she’d really thought through Saul’s offer before she accepted, she probably would’ve passed. But she hadn’t. And now the prospect of being alone with Saul Levy was nearly as unsettling as being near the water.
To keep her mind from diving in murky pools, Leona began to concentrate on the countryside. Scrub cedar and twisted mesquites dotted the flat landscape stretching for miles in every direction. When she and J.D. first arrived in West Texas she’d thought of the place as God-forsaken. After living here this long, she now saw freedom and possibilities.
As if Saul had sensed her need to collect herself, he’d remained quiet for the next ten minutes. Wind whipping her hair, Leona found her date’s silence surprisingly comforting and completely different from Roy’s constant reminiscing. But then, she and Saul had no history. Their relationship was a blank slate. Completely devoid of joint memories—unless she counted their mutual involvement in her husband’s financial affairs or the night Saul carried her to bed after she ingested pot brownies. And those limited encounters had been so bumpy and humiliating, she was grateful he wasn’t inclined to bring them up.
The increase of trees on the barren landscape meant they were nearing the water. She held tight to the armrest as they sped over the dam, keeping her eyes on the road rather than the height of the lake level from an abnormally wet spring. She didn’t breathe again until they’d cleared lake.
Saul slowed and wheeled his Lexus through an arched wrought-iron entry gate. Expansive houses were nestled among the trees that hugged the shore.
“No wonder Mother loves it out here.” Leona inhaled deeply, the faint scent of water dampening the tang of cattle and wild sage in her nostrils. She’d never ridden with the wind in her face and if it weren’t for this nagging sense of plunging into a watery grave, the exhilaration pumping through her veins would have been completely glorious. “I didn’t know such beauty existed in West Texas.”
“Oil paid for most of these houses.”
“It’s not just the houses. The whole setting seems out of place.”
“Water makes all the difference.”
“Hmmm,” she agreed, panic pushing back the water’s proximity. She forced her mind to dwell on the enterprise that had financed Saul’s ability to live in this upscale neighborhood. “Which one is yours?”
“I’m on a little cove at the end of the road.”
A quarter of a mile later, the pavement ended. Saul eased his car onto a narrow dirt lane. A canopy of red oaks and cypress trees towered overhead. To her right, Leona noticed an old rock chimney surrounded by the ruins of what must have been an early settler’s cabin. A few gravestones protruded from the weeds.
“My wife’s family was one of the first to settle in the territory.” Saul pointed toward the chimney. “That’s all that’s left of the original homestead.”
“What was your wife’s name?”
“Claire.” He let the car idle down the lane. While the fact that he’d inherited this place from a woman she’d never asked about rolled around in her head, Saul let the Lexus roll to a stop beside a small stone building. “Here we are.”
Leona’s gaze took in the cottage set on a rise that overlooked the lake. A thicket of mesquite and scrub brush cocooned the single-story structure on three sides. Slabs of Hill Country limestone had been meticulously puzzled-pieced together over the outside of the house from foundation to roof peak. Rough cedar casings framed a bank of sparkling floor-to-ceiling windows and thick cedar beams supported the stunning wrap-around porch. Cozy bentwood chairs with colorful cushions were grouped around a handcrafted wooden coffee table perfect for propping one’s feet while sipping a delicious cup of coffee. Someone had obviously invested a massive amount of time and attention into making this secluded spot a magical retreat from the world.
“You live here?” she asked, trying to picture such an uptight person surviving in such an untamed habitat.
“Moved in a couple of months ago.” He opened his door. “Took me three years to evict all the furry varmints and make it livable.” He came around and opened her door. “Want the nickel look-see or the dollar tour?”
“I’m feeling generous.” She gathered her purse, shoes, and sweater. She took his hand, fully aware that if he’d done all this work, he’d earned every single one of those callouses. “I’ll take the dollar tour, if you don’t mind putting it on my tab.”
“You’re running up quite the bill, you know.” He seemed pleased by her interest in his home.
“Sue me.”
His laughter bounced off the water, not rusty and unused as she would have expected. It was deep and rich and happy to be set free. His straightforward pleasure had the strange effect of making her want to investigate the lake’s charm as well.
His hand gently grazed the small of her back and guided her toward the steps of the porch. “When I first started working on the place, I didn’t know which end of a hammer to hold.”
She studied the roughhewn cedar pillars spaced perfectly along a recently poured cement slab. “You’re a fast study.”
“Don’t look too close. I’m still learning. But I believe a man should always keep learning. Trying new things.” He
turned. His gaze found hers. “Even when they’re uncomfortable.” Water lapped against the dock pilings in rhythmic, soothing little waves. “Hungry?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I have potatoes baking and steaks marinating for the grill.”
“Did the military teach you to be this prepared?”
He shook his head. “I was a boy scout.”
“Of course you were.” She could almost picture him in his cute little shorts uniform, diligently checking rules off his list. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing.” He pointed to a perfect arrangement of bentwood chairs. “Sit here and keep an eye out that direction.”
“What am I looking for?”
“The sunset. It’ll be glorious over the water.”
J.D. loved to stop for sunsets, but he’d never cooked for her, unless she counted the time he helped the kids make her breakfast in bed one Mother’s Day morning. The toaster caught fire. If the Story sisters hadn’t come by early that Sunday morning, the parsonage would have gone up in flames.
“I’ll preheat the grill.” Saul jogged down the steps that led to a large, well-landscaped, stone terrace half-way between the house and the water. Beside the screened-in gazebo sat a shiny, stainless steel grill. “Make yourself at home.” He pointed to the chairs on the porch.
Leona started to select a seat that didn’t put her in direct eye contact with the water, but as she watched him fiddle with the knobs on the cooker, flashing light flickered behind him and she suddenly changed her mind. Drawn by the beauty, she dropped her sweater over the arm of the chair and placed her shoes and purse at her feet.
Sunlight danced on the tiny ripples stirred by the breeze. West Texas wind was a constant irritation as far as her hair was concerned, but this was the first time she’d witnessed its ability to transform brown-gray water into a field of sparkling diamonds.
The lake wasn’t huge, so she could see the line of spindly willow trees hugging the opposite bank. Closer to home, a family of ducks paddled lazily toward Saul’s dock and the small boat tethered to a metal cleat. The mother waterfowl craned her neck over her shoulder every few seconds, making sure her little ducks were following in her wake. Oh, how Leona could relate to that poor girl.
