Wesley sighed heavily. “Frankly, I didn’t notice.”
“Wes, I have contact with men all the time. All kinds. And you know some come on to me. We’ve talked about that. Why, all of a sudden, do you care about this one?”
He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know. I guess because I’ve been caught up in a case all week, and tonight I had to work late. I hurried as much as I could, then I got here and saw him sitting there like he owned the place. He has an air about him.”
Annabelle thought about that. Wes was right. Symon hadn’t displayed any sense of guilt or inhibition about being there with her when Wes came. And of course, he shouldn’t have. He wasn’t guilty of anything. And the air about him? She’d noticed it. It was as if he was his own person and anyone else’s opinion just might not make a lot of difference to him. She didn’t see that as a detriment.
“I’m sorry,” Wes said. “I sound like a pompous cad. I know with my head that knowing someone’s family and having a supposedly good background is not a person’s worth. I know that, Annabelle. I believe it. And yet, this slipped out. I think...I hope...I’m just jealous you had a great evening with a guy. I’m glad you did. But I also wish it had been with me.”
“We can’t do this, Wesley. Have you be jealous when I speak to another guy. I mean, you spend time with female paralegals, clients, secretaries, lawyers, judges. I don’t intend to go there.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “When we were walking to River Street, I was wishing you were with us.”
She braced herself for another comment from Wes. But he didn’t seem to notice. She should have said she wished he were there instead of Symon, not along with them. But she had enjoyed the afternoon and evening. Symon was...interesting.
Wes said, “Maybe I should befriend him. He’s new in town. Been gone awhile.”
“That would be nice.” She knew Wesley was trying to prove he was neither prejudiced nor jealous. She laughed lightly. “But when would you have time? You gotta befriend me.”
Grinning, he rose from the chair and came over to her. “I love you, Annabelle.”
She stood and went into his open arms.
Even then, she wondered if they were being watched. As if it mattered. Well, yes, maybe it did. She was Wesley’s girl. Everyone knew that. Everyone should know it.
There’s nothing wrong with being friendly to a friend of Aunt B. And why was she even thinking about it? She shouldn’t. So she wouldn’t. She raised her face to Wesley and their lips met. That felt good. Like it should.
“Hey,” he said after a long moment. “Maybe we’d better get that ring on your finger.”
She even wondered about that. Did he say that because he didn’t want to wait any longer? Or because she had talked to another guy?
“Maybe,” she said. “But better than white gold circling my finger are real arms circling me.”
So he put his arms around her again. Sometimes she just didn’t want him to let go, and she knew he felt the same way. That’s when one of them would move away, honor the commitment they’d made to each other and the Lord. And heaven forbid they ever do anything improper in Aunt B’s house. Not that she was considering it.
“You want popcorn with that Coke?”
He stepped back, lifted his arm and looked at his watch. “I could use a little relaxation. About time for the cops show. Want to watch it if it’s not too late?”
She glanced at the wall clock. “Not even nine yet. Sure. Turn it on. I’ll make popcorn.”
He got their drinks and walked out.
She put a bag in the microwave and punched the buttons. Just as she reached for a bowl, her phone rang.
She winced, seeing the caller ID. Lizzie wouldn’t call from work just to chat.
She punched the button. “Lizzie?”
“Symon’s here,” Lizzie said. It made Annabelle’s emotions jump like the pop-pop-pop of the corn.
“Wha-what’s he doing?”
Lizzie giggled. “Looking at the decorations. He’d like to take the tour. And...Annabelle...he asked if I’d like to talk with him after I get off work at ten. Is that okay with you?”
Annabelle looked at the doorway. “Why do you ask me, Lizzie? That’s your business.”
“Well, you were here with him.”
“Just being nice to Aunt B’s friend.” She spoke low and was glad the corn was popping. “You silly. You know I’m engaged to Wes.”
“Ha! You know how many times I expected to get married and didn’t. And, we all know about a woman’s prerogative.”
“Well, mine’s still intact. It’s your decision. Okay?”
“Believe me, I’ll turn on all the charm I have.”
Annabelle laughed. “Don’t worry, you have plenty. I mean, he got back to you in a hurry.”
“Well.” She sounded doubtful. “He said the pirate scene is research for a possible story idea. You’re sure?”
“Of course. Have fun.”
“Okay. Gotta go.”
Why in the world would Lizzie think she needed her permission? Couldn’t people be friends, or acquaintances, anymore? Wes appeared in the doorway. Annabelle laid the phone on the countertop. “That was Lizzie. Guess who just asked her out?”
He shrugged.
“Symon.”
“Is she going?”
“Looking forward to it.”
Wes looked pleased. “Sounds like the program’s back on.”
A few minutes later, she was aware of leaning against Wes’s arm, sharing the popcorn, listening to his occasional comments about the program, his filling her in on what she’d missed, but she kept thinking about Symon and Lizzie together. Lizzie was concerned about everyone else having a close relationship with a guy, yet none of hers ever lasted very long. Guys either went away or she sent them away.
Somehow Annabelle didn’t think Lizzie and Symon were right for each other. Lizzie seemed a little too desperate to find a guy. She bemoaned the fact that Megan and Michael were close and that Annabelle and Wesley would marry. Lizzie was fun and beautiful. But she could be too vulnerable to the charms of Symon Sinclair.
Charms?
Where in the world did that come from?
He hadn’t done a single charming thing. It wasn’t charm. It was...charisma? Well, for goodness’ sake, she wasn’t blind. And he was entertaining and somewhat an enigma.
She sighed and shrugged a shoulder.
“Yeah,” Wesley said, reaching into the bowl for another handful of popcorn. “That was a little stupid, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said, thinking he had to be talking about the TV program. “It really was.”
Chapter 11
Monday morning dawned bright and clear. After Annabelle exercised, showered and dressed in shorts and a tank top, she went out onto the porch with her laptop. She knew Symon was working near the house, pruning, pulling, hoeing, pouring stuff from bags. The earthy smell was as pleasant as the soft breeze teasing the moss on the trees on the sunlit morning.
Her curiosity was getting the better of her, just as SweetiePie’s seemed to do when she jumped from windowsill to windowsill to watch either Mudd or Symon, or both.
When he came around front he said he’d had a nice conversation with Miss B over the weekend.
“How’d she get your number?”
“Landline in the cottage.”
Annabelle chuckled. “She uses her cell but won’t give up her landlines. We can exchange cell numbers if you like.”
“Fine,” he said. “And you can always call the cottage and leave a message. The last digit is a two instead of three like in the house.”
She scoffed, “I wouldn’t know what to tell you to do, anyway. You seem to b
e doing all right.”
“Comes with experience.” He gestured to the front bed. “These are just about ready. I need to order the plants.”
“Would you like to use my car to haul them in? It’s older and has more room.”
His glance was quick. “I’ll have them delivered.”
“Did you ask Aunt B?”
“No.”
“That will cost.”
“Is that a problem?”
She shrugged. “No, but Aunt B is frugal. She’s retired now, so she’s careful.”
“You want to pay for it?”
She opened her mouth ready to say no. But of course she would if that’s what Aunt B wanted. “If it’s not astronomical.”
“Don’t be concerned. The plants are the gift of an anonymous donor.”
She lifted her hands. Nothing was in her control. “That’s between you and Aunt B.”
“Exactly,” he affirmed and wiggled a finger at Mudd, who rose.
He must be finished for the time being. But she had to know. This was what she came out here for, so just as he turned away she called, “Did you have a nice weekend?” His car hadn’t been there late Saturday evening when Wes brought her home. Nor on Sunday morning when Wes picked her up for church.
“Fine.” He looked over his shoulder with that expression again. He seemed to know what was on her mind so she might as well say it. “How was your date with Lizzie?”
“Oh,” he exclaimed and placed his hand on his forehead. “How can I find words?” He strode over to the steps and sat in his place against the post. After Mudd glanced around warily and decided he was safe from the cat on the front windowsill, he settled at the bottom of the steps.
Annabelle sighed heavily and parked herself in the rocker.
Symon grinned. “It wasn’t a date. At least not the way you’re implying. She invited me to take the tour. I took her up on it. It was information. But,” he said quickly. “Right now I’m concentrating on where to live and the cherry tree project. Besides, she had plans to meet someone from a dating service on Saturday.”
“Oh, not again. That girl’s asking for trouble.”
“I warned her.” He paused. “But I did go out with her brother Saturday night.”
Her expression must have been what made him chuckle. “Lizzie told him about me, so we met at the fitness center and swam awhile Saturday morning. And, let’s see, I slept late Sunday morning. Miss B never let us work on Saturday or Sunday unless it was an emergency, so I took it easy most of the day.”
“Do you have a special girl?” she asked.
“They’re all special. But nothing serious. No commitments,” he said and changed the subject by asking, “How was your weekend?”
“Fine. After my Saturday morning classes, Wes and I spent the weekend together. Most of it, anyway.”
Instead of the usual going out to dinner followed by a movie or some event, she’d cooked a special meal for Wes at Aunt B’s, a welcome break from all the salads she seemed to live on. Then they’d gone out to watch a movie both had been wanting to see. They’d gone to church Sunday, then had lunch with his parents.
“Was it that bad?” Symon said, interrupting her thoughts.
She laughed lightly. “No. Well, yes. That murder case is a big one for the firm, and for Wes’s future. It’s really weighing on him.” She sighed. “I guess I’ll just work on my book, which is just dull facts.”
“Remember, tell the stories.”
“I don’t think like you. You’re more entertaining than television.”
“That’s not saying much,” he said, and she chuckled with him until he asked, “Why do you females wear all that makeup?”
He appeared serious so she said, “It’s fun. And besides that, it’s to enhance one’s best attributes. Diminish the not so good.”
He nodded. “Like I’m doing with the flower beds. It’s a process.”
“Oh. You exfoliated the beds?”
At his askance expression she laughed. “Maybe you don’t, but we girls exfoliate our skin to remove the dead cells.”
“Okay,” he said. “That’s the point. Relate the skin to a flower bed. Remove the weeds, have a clean slate, begin to enhance and eventually you have the results you want. Make that analogy. Draw a few flowers on the page and you intrigue your reader.”
He made it sound simple.
“By the way.” He squinted. “Are you exfoliated or enhanced?”
She slapped the arm of the rocker. “If you have to ask, I’ve failed.”
He just raised his eyebrows, and removed himself from the porch. When he stood across from her on the other side of the banister he said, “Do you have plans for this afternoon?”
“I don’t have my four o’clock class. The children are out of school today. When that happens, we don’t hold the modeling classes. But I’m meeting with Celeste to plan the summer fashion show.”
“I’m going in to order the flowers. If you want, we could take care of what we have to do and afterward we could go to a bookstore and I’ll show you how to get ideas for your book.”
She really hadn’t felt confident about the book idea, but he made it sound like a doable project that could be worthwhile. And Celeste had begun to sound like it was not an option.
“In case you’re wondering,” he said, drawing her attention back to him, “Miss B is the closest thing I’ve had to a mom. So, let’s see. That would make you and me, what? Cousins?”
Why in the world “kissing cousins” popped into her mind, or why her eyes went to his lips, she didn’t know. My goodness gracious, she’d been around male models all her life, handsome men. In fact Wesley was very handsome. So there was nothing wrong in recognizing such a fact. That had been her first thought upon meeting Wesley. When she was introduced to him, he was all dressed up in dinner attire and she’d thought, My, he’s actually very handsome. And he’d proved to be very kissable that very night.
That’s exactly where her mind should be. On Wes. And she’d told herself this was the perfect time to concentrate on the book. Symon seemed willing and able to help.
If she said no, what would that indicate? That she didn’t want to be friends with him? He’d already made friends with Lizzie and Paul. Come to think of it, she felt as if they were already friends. Had been from almost the time he’d sat there talking about his feelings for Aunt B. Besides that, she enjoyed him very much.
Wes wouldn’t be particularly thrilled. But he had no reason for concern. And to prove it, she closed her laptop and stood.
“Sure,” she said. “I’d like to be there by two.”
Chapter 12
Symon ordered the plants and flowers from the garden center. Annabelle said she’d be in a back room of the department store, choosing clothes for the fashion show before they were put on the racks. But whoever finished first would wait for the other.
Approaching the store, he spied her near the front with two other women. She looked out and acknowledged him with a direct gaze and a smile, then returned her attention to the other women.
He knew which would be Celeste. The tall blonde with a sleek chignon, long legs in off-white pants, a jacket over a grass-green blouse and really high heels. The conservative-looking woman in a suit and white collared shirt would be the manager.
Of course he already knew how Annabelle looked from the moment she walked out of the house and got into his car.
“What’s the color of your sweater set?” he’d asked. “I have to describe women’s clothes in my writing and am sorely lacking.”
She gave him a look. “The color of the tank and cardigan is mist mélange.” Her cranberry-colored lips were all the color she needed. Then there was the big round goldish jewelry, bronze maybe.
He doubted his
characters would wear mist mélange. Well, unless they were models.
Annabelle’s knees were quite attractive, too, below her straight ivory skirt—well, straight as could be...considering.
Wearing slacks and a short-sleeved sport shirt, he felt a mite overdressed for the garden center but maybe passable for the lovely lady. Would she care that he wrote successful books under a pen name? But what would be the point? They were relating well just the way things were. He reminded himself he was here to impress Miss B, if anyone, and the trip to the bookstore was for her niece.
Annabelle and the blonde exited the store. The blonde walked on down the corridor and every head turned. She looked to be maybe in her forties. But everything about her said style and beauty.
“Ahem,” Annabelle said, and he looked at her as if he hadn’t known she’d walked up to him. She darted a sly glance down the corridor and said with a smug smile, “That’s Celeste.”
“I figured,” he said, then grinned. “Get things settled?”
“The beginning. Chose some really nice fashions. Next is getting the children and teens and trying them on and practicing for the show. Ever tried to get a six-year-old to stand straight, walk gracefully, pivot instead of turn, smile even if she trips on the runway, but don’t trip. And not flap her arms like she’s flying?”
“I’ll stick with still life,” he said as they began to walk toward the bookstore.
The first thing he did upon entering was go straight to first table and pick up a book and stick his nose into it. “Ah, heaven.” He inhaled deeply. “I love the smell of books.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Dirt, fertilizer and now books.”
“Try it.” He shoved it toward her.
She sniffed. “Definitely dead trees. Not bad, but I kind of like lipstick. Right under my nose, you know.”
He forced his eyes not to linger on the luscious-looking lips she moistened with her tongue. They were parted in a faint smile. Maybe waiting for a comment or compliment? Best not to go there. So he laid the book down and shook his head. “Not even a close second to dirt.”
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