“Melissa, why don’t you keep Belle company while Alex and I tend to the dishes?” Abby smiled a sweet smile of her own.
“Great idea.” Alex nodded.
“Well, now, Alex, there’s so many things to be washed up, and since Abby worked so hard on that lovely dinner, I think I should help out a little.” Melissa, having clearly reevaluated the cleaned-up Abby, was reluctant to leave Alex alone in the company of such obvious competition for his attention.
“It’s no problem,” Abby assured her, “and it’s a good opportunity for you to get to know Belle a little.”
Melissa hesitated, pondering the advantages of getting to know the grandmother over keeping an eye on what Abby might be cooking up in the kitchen.
“Go on, Melissa,” Alex said as he opened the kitchen door and held it for her.
“Well, just keep in mind that we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” she said somewhat disagreeably.
“I know.” He nodded. “This shouldn’t take too long.” Abby waited for the kitchen door to close before opening her mouth to give the speech she was mentally preparing. She hesitated a few seconds too long.
“Listen, Abby, I didn’t know what to get Gran for Christmas.” He leaned back against the counter. “I was going to give her cash, but if you have a better idea…”
“Cash is good.” Abby smiled wanly.
“Can you think of anything she might really need?”
“New glasses,” Abby told him without a second thought. “She desperately needs new glasses. She can barely read and has a real problem seeing the television.”
“That’s a great idea.” He grinned. “I knew you’d know just the right thing. Can you arrange that? Take her for her glasses, and I’ll reimburse you?”
She hesitated, knowing this could be her opening. “I’m afraid my cash is pretty limited right now.”
The realization that it embarrassed her to admit that to him slowed the momentum that had surged within her for the briefest of seconds.
“Oh. Of course, you shouldn’t have to pay for them.” He seemed to study her face. “I’m sorry, Abby. How ’bout if I leave you with…” He fished his wallet out of his back pocket and counted bills. “Three hundred dollars enough?”
“That should cover the exam and the frames and lenses.” She nodded without looking at him. “But don’t you think you should give it to Belle, so she knows it’s from you?”
“Good idea.” He put the wallet back into his pocket and, with the cash still in his hand, started toward the dining room.
“Alex, are you just going to hand that to her?”
“Well, yeah.” He looked confused.
“No card?”
“I sent her a card,” he told her, still perplexed. “Is something wrong?”
“I guess not.” She turned back to the dishes in the sink.
“Abby?”
“Well, don’t you think it’s a little insensitive to hand your grandmother a pile of cash and say, ‘Here, go buy yourself some new glasses’?”
“What would you suggest?”
She turned around and leaned back against the sink to think, then took the towel from him and dried her hands.
“Wait right here,” she told him.
She returned with a sheet of writing paper and an envelope, purloined from Leila’s desk, and handed them to him with a pen.
“Write her a note. Tell her what the money is for. That way, she’ll feel obligated to spend it on her glasses, instead of…” Her voice trailed off.
“Instead of what?” He looked up from the paper.
Instead of on food, she could have said. Or on oil for the furnace.
“Instead of on something else,” she said, and resumed washing the dishes.
She could feel his eyes on the back of her head for a very long minute, but he did not speak.
Finally, he said, “Here, do you think this is okay?”
He leaned over her shoulder, holding the paper in front of her.
Gran, it read, you can’t do the crossword puzzles if you can’t read the clues. This is for new—he had drawn a pair of glasses. Merry Christmas. Love, Alex.
“I think it’s perfect,” she said softly.
He was close enough that she could feel his breath on her neck. It tickled her ear and sent a shiver someplace deep inside her. She stiffened herself against the unexpected nearness of him.
“I think I’ll give this to her now. Excuse me for a moment.”
Abby bit her lip. Time was slipping away.
“Alex,” she said when she heard him breeze back into the kitchen, determined that the moment was now. She would get this agenda back on track and ignore the fact that she’d spent the last five minutes trying to regulate her heartbeat.
“Abby, that was a brilliant idea.” He put his arms around her waist from behind, his hands resting lightly on her hips. “Gran was thrilled. You know, she had tears in her eyes when she was reading that little note? Thank you, Abby. It was just the right thing.” He leaned around her shoulder and pressed his lips to her cheek, saying, “Thank you.”
“Alex.” She cleared her throat, hoping to clear her head, and thrust the dish towel in his hands.
“Right.” He grinned. “Dry.”
“Alex.” She chose her words carefully. “I’m really glad that you came today…”
“So am I, Abby.” He lifted a plate from the dish rack. “You know, I never stopped wondering where you were. If you were well. If you were happy. What kind of man you had fallen in love with…” His voice trailed off.
I never loved anyone but you, the voice inside her pronounced, loud and clear. Her head jerked up with surprise, fearing for a second that he had heard it. Her cheeks flushed with relief as she realized the words had not tumbled from her mouth.
“And I hoped he would be someone good enough for you. You were always so special, Abby,” he told her softly. “The most special person in my life, for a very long time. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you again. Funny, isn’t it, to be here together again?”
“Alex, that’s what I want to talk to you about.” She seized the moment.
“You mean about the arrangement you and Gran have? She told me all about it. I think it’s wonderful that you’ve invited her to stay on with you. I realize that a lot of people wouldn’t want to have an elderly person around all the time.”
Abby barely heard a word from that point on. What on earth had Belle told him? And how could she set the record straight without calling his grandmother an out-and-out liar?
Melissa entered the room with agitation written all over her face. “Alex, do you realize it’s going on nine o’clock,” she whined, “and we have depositions tomorrow morning, and we still need hours to prepare. Could we please get moving?”
“Well, I really wanted to help Abby finish the cleanup.” He reached for another plate, and Melissa took it from his hand, returning it to the rack.
“I’m sure Abby will understand,” she said pointedly. “You do understand, don’t you, Abby? This is a very important case.”
“Of course,” Abby said, her words clipped.
“Abby, are you sure?” Alex asked, holding the towel limply in one hand.
“Of course, she’s sure.” Melissa took the towel and tossed it onto the counter. “Abby is perfectly capable of finishing up.”
“Abby?” he said.
“It’s fine, Alex.” She forced a smile. “Really.”
“Well, then. That’s settled. Come get your jacket and say good-bye to your grandmother.” Melissa held the door open for him, and Abby’s heart sank as he shrugged an apology and walked through it.
“Abigail.” Belle poked her head in a few minutes later. “Alexander and what’s-her-name are leaving now. Aren’t you going to come out and say good-bye?”
“Sure, Belle,” she said. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
She dried her hands slowly on the towel Alex had used to dry the plates, then folde
d it carefully and placed it on the counter, silently berating herself for having blown her big chance. She walked into the hallway, accepted Melissa’s thanks, and put her face up for Alex to kiss as he left.
“Gran, thank you for inviting me to spend Christmas with you.” His eyes sought Abby’s over the head of the tiny woman who stood between them, and for the briefest moment, Abby was propelled back to a time when the boy he had once been had stood in this same spot, that last night so many summers ago, his brown eyes drinking her in as if to preserve her face forever in his mind.
She blinked, and it was Belle he was kissing good-bye, not the girl of long ago.
“You’ll be all right, won’t you, Gran?” he was asking.
“Of course, she’ll be all right.” Melissa poked him. “She has Abby to take care of her.”
“Thanks, Abby. For everything,” he said, then hesitated, as if he wanted to say something more. When Melissa opened the door and stepped through it to walk swiftly down the steps, there appeared to be little choice but for him to follow.
17
“My, aren’t we the crabby one this morning?” Belle noted dryly after Abby had snapped her response to Belle’s inquiry about whether the breakfast scones were yesterday’s leftovers.
“Of course they’re not,” Abby had grumbled. “There were only two left, and I fed them to the ducks out on the Sound this morning.”
“Melissa ate more than her fair share at tea yesterday.” Belle chuckled. “Then she had the nerve to launch into her little ‘Why, I just never eat dessert’ routine. After three scones with butter and jam, it’s a wonder she had any room for dinner. Though I noticed she put away a hefty enough portion of cornbread and sausage dressing.”
“Hmmmph.” The mere mention of Melissa’s name destroyed Abby’s appetite. She took her cup into the kitchen to see if Mr. Coffee had done his job.
She was crabby. Crabby and tired from a fitful night when sleep would not come and stay. She’d tossed and turned, alternating between anger with herself and anger directed toward Alex.
“How could he just walk out of here, assuming that I will just go on taking care of his grandmother so that he and Melissa can live happily ever after, skating along together from one big case to another?” she had hissed to the darkness.
“How could I have been stupid enough to let him leave without explaining the situation to him? Why didn’t I sit him down and make him listen to the truth?”
Somewhere between anger and self-recrimination, she would feel his lips pressed against her cheek, his soft breath on her neck, the strength of his arms as he had lifted her from the ladder, and she’d turn over and punch the pillow, as if to beat away the memory.
All in all, it had not been a very good night.
She stewed all day and again through the following night, until she remembered that he had, in fact, left a business card with his office number near the phone in the hallway. First thing in the morning, she resolved, she would absolutely, positively call him.
Belle was happily enjoying a game show when Abby dialed the number.
“Alex Kane, please,” she said when the receptionist announced the firm.
“One moment, please.”
Abby tapped impatient fingers on the old black receiver as the phone rang, once, twice, three times.
“Alex Kane’s office.” A woman’s voice answered on the fourth ring.
“Is Mr. Kane available?” Abby asked.
“Not at the moment.” The voice was at once uncomfortably familiar. “May I ask who is calling?”
“Abigail McKenna.”
“Oh, Abby. I thought that might be you. This is Melissa.”
How did I know it would be? Abby leaned back against the wall.
“Alex will be in court all day Melissa told her flatly. “Of course, I’ll be seeing him at dinner, if you’d like me to pass on a message.” She paused. “Is Miz Matthews all right?”
“She’s fine. Just ask him to give me a call.”
“Sure thing.” Melissa tried to sound agreeable. “Thanks again, by the way, for taking us in for Christmas,” she said, as if it was expected of her.
“Our pleasure.” Abby made a face at the phone. She, too, could play the cordiality game.
“Well, I just can’t tell you how relieved Alex is that he doesn’t have to worry about his grandmother. What with you being there and all. With that off his shoulders, he can concentrate on his career.”
“Is that what he said?” Abby twisted the phone cord into a noose, picturing Melissa’s neck at the center of it.
“Not in so many words, but I know that’s what he’s thinking. You do develop a sort of sixth sense, don’t you think, when you’re so close to someone,” Melissa cooed. “And Alex is a real up-and-comer, he can really go places in the firm. At least, if I have anything to say about it.”
That Melissa would have plenty to say about it went unspoken.
“You will remember to tell him that I called?” Abby did her best to ignore Melissa’s reminder of whose firm Alex was employed by.
“Oh, I sure will,” Melissa promised. “And do give Miz Matthews my best.”
Melissa’s voice lingered with Abby all day like a bad hangover. It rang in Abby’s ears as she patched plaster on the newly stripped walls in the back bedroom and sang discordantly in her subconscious as she painted the woodwork. It taunted Abby as she lay in bed that night, cursing Alex’s name and his failure to return her call.
After all these years, he had come back into her life, only to let her down again.
“You know, Abigail,” Belle said the next morning when Abby returned from the paint store, a gallon of paint in one hand and a new roller in the other, “I’ve thought about it, and I don’t believe she means a thing to him.”
“Who are you talking about, Belle?” Abby asked, setting the can of paint on the counter while she removed her jacket.
“Alexander, of course. I don’t think there’s much between him and Melissa.”
“I couldn’t care less.” Abby shrugged.
“Really?” Belle’s eyes narrowed with blatant skepticism. “Well, it matters to me. I want better for him.”
“Melissa is attractive and apparently successful.” Abby gathered up her equipment and headed toward the front hall.
“Pooh.” Belle sniffed. “She owes her looks to her hairdresser and the makeup she piles on that little face of hers. And she owes her success to the fact that her daddy is her boss. I found her rude, unappealing, and unsuitable.”
“Your grandson apparently does not,” Abby said over her shoulder as she climbed the steps, “and he is welcome to her. Frankly, I think they deserve each other.”
The painting had gone quickly. By the time Naomi stopped in later that morning, Abby was washing out the roller and brush in the bathroom sink.
“Wow, what a diiference,” Naomi exclaimed. “Tell me what you’re going to do with the rest of the room.”
“As little as possible,” Abby grumbled, and pushed past Naomi to return to the bedroom.
“Whoa there, Miz McKenna.” Naomi grabbed Abby by the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Look, I don’t know what’s gotten into you these past few days, but you’re not going to take it out on me. And while we’re on the subject, you should lay off Belle.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Abby said flatly, prying Naomi’s finger from her shirt.
“Of course you do. You’ve been an absolute bitch since Christmas. Which I take to mean Alex was not receptive to whatever it was you wanted him to do.” Naomi followed Abby into the room. “Well, that’s not Belle’s fault.”
“That’s not exactly true.” Abby turned to face her. “Belle apparently told Alex that she and I had come to some sort of living arrangement.”
“Have you?”
“No.”
“Well, I suggest you call him up and get it straightened out.”
“I did call him. He didn’t call me back.”
“Then call him again. Keep calling him until you get through to him. But stop jumping down everyone else’s throat because you can’t jump down his.”
“You’re right, of course.” Abby removed the drop cloth from the bed and dumped it on the floor. “And I owe you an apology. I’m just getting a little concerned, Naomi. I do not know how we will get through this winter. I have very little cash left, maybe enough to keep the house heated and to pay the utility bills and to keep us fed for three or four more months. It scares me to think about what will happen after that. What if that chimney finally goes over, or the rest of the plumbing goes bad? It just may be time to give Aunt Leila’s jewelry man a call.”
“Who’s that?”
“A man Aunt Leila sold some things to a few years ago when she needed cash. If she trusted him, I guess I can, too.”
“What will you sell?”
“Leila’s emeralds,” Abby told her, then smiled wryly. “The rest of the real stuff goes to my cousin, Susannah. The emeralds are the only pieces of value that I can, in good conscience, sell.”
“What a shame to have to part with a piece of your family history.” Naomi shook her head.
“I’m starting to get used to it.” Abby shrugged. “And besides, the emeralds won’t keep the furnace going or pay the plumber when the pipes finally crumble.”
“Yes, but they haven’t crumbled yet,” Naomi pointed out. “Why not hold on to them until you absolutely have to sell them?”
“That day may not be too far away.” Abby grimaced.
“But it’s not here yet. And besides, what if you sell them now and have the plumbing repaired, and then something else happens that’s worse than leaking pipes? Then you have nothing to fall back on.”
“Well, I guess there’s always room for a disaster greater than leaking pipes.” Abby tried to force a smile.
“Are you kidding? In a house like this?” Naomi’s eyes widened. “Why, there’s no end to what could go wrong in a house this old…” Naomi stopped herself, then said sheepishly, “I guess these are not exactly comforting thoughts.”
“Not very encouraging.” Abby laughed. “But all so true. And you’re right. Keeping the emeralds is like having money in the bank—especially since there’s so little of that left.”
Carolina Mist Page 13
