Anna Meets Her Match

by Arlene James

  “Like what?”

  “You tell me.”

  Suddenly angry, she snapped her fingers. “I never could pull anything over on you, could I, Stick? After all these years I’ve finally found a way to get you back for not asking me to the homecoming dance.”

  Ack! Had she said that out loud? It wasn’t as if she’d ever actually expected him to ask her to the homecoming dance. But she’d hoped. Oh, how she’d hoped. Not that he’d believe it. He smiled thinly and sat forward, one forearm braced against the corner of her desk.

  “I’m warning you, Anna Miranda,” he rumbled in a low voice. “You better not make my aunts the object of one of your pranks.”

  Pranks? Anna goggled. She hadn’t pulled a prank in years, since high school, at least. She’d been much too busy trying to feed and house herself.

  “And to think,” she hissed, “that I was feeling sorry for that crack I made. I heard about your wife, how she took off, and I felt bad about saying women made a habit of leaving you. Now I’m thinking maybe they got it right.”

  The color drained from his face. For an instant, raw pain dulled his copper-brown gaze, and once more regret slammed her. “Reeves, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “My aunts,” he said in a strangled voice, climbing to his feet. “I’m watching you, Anna Miranda Burdett. If you hurt or disappoint them…” Shaking his head, he started to turn away.

  Desperate to convince him of her sincere regret, she reached for his arm. They jerked apart as if zapped by electricity.

  “Never,” she vowed, gazing up at him repentantly, her tingling hand clenched at her side. “I would never hurt your aunts. They’ve always been kind to me. I have the greatest respect for them, and I’ll give them my very best work. You have my word.”

  “I haven’t always found your word trustworthy,” he reminded her quietly, “like the day you swore you hadn’t seen my keys.”

  Anna flushed. “Oh, that.”

  What was it with men and their precious cars? She’d been fourteen, for pity’s sake, just a kid caught in the throes of an unrequited crush. She wasn’t about to apologize for something that had happened twelve years ago.

  Reeves nodded sharply. “Yeah, that.” After staring at her for several seconds, he whirled and strode away.

  Anna slumped against her chair, feeling more alone than usual, though why that should be the case, she couldn’t say. She’d always been alone, after all. Obviously, that was how God intended her to be. But at least she could show Reeves Leland that he was wrong about some things. She did have talent, and she wasn’t afraid to use it.

  As she’d promised Reeves, she would give the Chatams her very best effort, if for no other reason than to secure her job. She’d only been here a few months. After a long string of pointless, temporary positions, she’d finally found work that she enjoyed, even if the boss was difficult. She would hate to lose that, especially since her grandmother expected her to. Also because she had to pay the rent.

  The tiny one-bedroom apartment where she had lived since the age of eighteen in no way compared to the two-story, gingerbread-Victorian house where she had grown up, but Anna would crawl across glass on a daily basis to keep from moving back in with Tansy. She would do worse, she realized suddenly, to raise Reeves Leland’s poor opinion of her, and that’s exactly what she feared she would do. Worse.

  Nevertheless, for the remainder of the week, she concentrated on showing up for work early and giving the BCBC job her best. She contacted the university and got permission to incorporate their insignia into her designs, then she experimented with fonts, illustrations and document styles until she had a handful of satisfactory possibilities to offer for consideration, along with detailed estimates for those items already discussed. She was ready by midmorning on the following Monday to meet with Reeve’s aunts once again. Dennis elected to make the call informing them of that. Afterward, he told her that she had a four o’ clock appointment at Chatam House. She blinked as Dennis shook a finger in her face.

  “And don’t think you’re going to cut out at five o’clock, either. You stay until those old ladies are satisfied, or I’ll wash my hands of you!”

  “Be easier to wash me out of your hair,” Anna quipped, eyeing the thin strands covering his poor crown. The instant the words were out, she wished them back. Dennis literally snarled at her until she muttered, “Sorry. Won’t let you down. Promise.”

  Dennis turned away, leaving Anna to ponder whether Reeves would be there or if he would, as in years past, go out of his way to avoid her. He’d said he would be watching, but she didn’t take that literally, especially as he’d shown such a marked disdain for her company. It shouldn’t have bothered her so much—she had made a career, after all, of earning disapproval, especially that of her grandmother—but Reeves Leland’s attitude had always wounded her. Only when she was tweaking that handsome, aristocratic nose of his had he deigned to look her way. Even then, he had only seen “the brat.” Apparently that was all he saw now, too.

  What hurt most was that he had always seemed unfailingly polite and kind to everyone else. Indeed, Reeves Leland had a reputation for being a fine Christian man, which was why the town had been so shocked when his wife had left him.

  Pushing him out of mind, she concentrated instead on getting through the day. Howard, the dear, made sure that she got away from the office in plenty of time for her appointment. In fact, when she pulled up in front of Chatam House the dashboard clock of her old car told her that she had nearly ten minutes to spare.

  Gathering her materials, she stepped out into the cold February air, tucking her chin into the rainbow-striped muffler wound about her throat inside the collar of her bright orange corduroy coat. The instant she straightened a whirling dervish came out of nowhere and knocked her on her behind. Anna instinctively put out a hand and grabbed hold. Simultaneously Carol Petty, one of the Chatams’ household staff, huffed into view, her dark slacks and bulky sweater dusted with white powder, her light brown hair slipping free of the clasp at her nape. While Carol gasped for breath, the little tornado who had knocked Anna down screeched.

  “Gilli Leland, stop it!” Carol scolded, stomping forward across the deep gravel to take hold of the girl. “You are going to have a bath, and that’s that.”

  Anna hauled herself to her feet and picked up her portfolio, thankful she’d had the foresight to zip it closed as that was not always the case. Dusting off her jeans, she turned to take in the girl who had flattened her.

  So this was Reeves Leland’s daughter. Pretty little thing, with all that curly hair, provided one disregarded the wailing and white powder. What was that stuff covering her anyway? Talcum? Chancing a sniff, Anna leaned forward, only to draw back in surprise. The kid had coated herself in flour. Hopefully, no one planned to pan fry her, though given Carol’s exasperation, Anna wouldn’t have been surprised.

  “I wanna make cookies!” the girl sobbed.

  “Hilda is saving the cookies until you get cleaned up,” Carol told the distraught child. She cast an apologetic look at Anna. “I’m sorry, Miss Burdett. A mishap in the kitchen. The misses are expecting you.”

  “Uh-huh, and Mr. Leland?” Anna glanced around, expecting Reeves to arrive at any moment to take his wayward offspring in hand.

  Carol shook her head. “He’s not in from work yet.” Glancing at Gilli, she muttered, “Works too much, if you ask me.”

  “Hmm. Well. I’ll, uh, just ring the bell, I guess.”

  “If you don’t mind,” Carol said, dragging Gilli back the way they had come.

  Gilli stopped howling long enough to glance back at Anna, who impulsively stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes. Gilli first looked surprised, but then she giggled, causing Carol to pause and look down at her. Grinning, Anna climbed the shallow brick steps and rang the bell. Odelia let her in, swinging black onyx chandeliers from her earlobes and chattering gaily about how excited they all were to see her designs.

  Exc
ited they might have been, but see her designs they did not. Neither were they interested in her estimates. Instead, Hypatia presented her with a “more complete list,” of the items they would be needing: place cards, menu cards, table assignment cards, letterheads, donation forms, receipts, a spiral-bound auction catalog, name tags, item tags, signs…The list seemed endless.

  While Anna tried to take in the expanding size of the order, the sisters chatted about their various ideas for the final logo design, all three at the same time. Anna mentally tossed everything she’d done to this point and quickly jotted down ideas as the sisters shot them to her. At one point she put her hand to her hair, just trying to take it all in. Hypatia reached over then to lay her manicured hand on Anna’s shoulder.

  “How would it be,” Hypatia asked, “if you worked up designs for each of us?”

  “Using your individual ideas, you mean?” Anna raised a mental eyebrow at Miss Magnolia’s “nature” theme, Miss Odelia’s “lace and satin” and Miss Hypatia’s “biblical” motif. “I can do that.” Along with a new idea of her own, she decided, suddenly picturing the fluted, Roman Doric columns of Chatam House topped with an elegant swag of flowers intertwined with the BCBC emblem, which itself contained a Bible.

  “You just let us know when you’re ready to meet again,” Mags said. “We’ll have the teapot simmering.”

  “That’s very nice of you,” Anna returned, a thought occurring. “So you’ll be wanting me to continue coming here?”

  “Is there a problem with that?” Hypatia asked.

  “No, no. Not so far as I’m concerned. Dennis may not always go for it, though.”

  Hypatia just smiled. “Oh, he seems perfectly willing to indulge three old ladies who like their creature comforts too well.”

  Anna laughed. “Well, I certainly can’t argue that the print shop compares in any way to Chatam House.”

  “What does?” a smooth male voiced asked.

  Anna looked up as Reeves strolled into the room, dispensing kisses and smiles on everyone but her. At last, he turned a cool nod in her direction. “Anna Miranda.”

  Anna grit her teeth. She hated her full name. Hated it. Sometimes the chants of children’s voices rang in her dreams. Anna Miranda the brat. Anna Miranda the brat…

  She couldn’t blame them really. They’d had parents and siblings, and she had resented that fact greatly. Of course, as children do, they had picked up on her envy. Accordingly, they had sneered, and she had made their lives miserable in every way she could imagine. Eventually she’d learned to channel her animosity into jokes, earning herself a few friends and the designation of class clown. Reeves had never thought her the least bit funny, though. She faced him and returned his greeting in kind.

  “Reeves Kyle.”

  He lifted an eyebrow before turning his back on her. “More printing?” he asked his aunts.

  Anna bit her tongue, literally.

  While the aunts gushed about everything they had discussed, Anna secured her notes, reminding herself that this was business between her and the Chatam sisters. Reeves’s opinion did not matter, and she had been foolish to think for a moment that it did. Or that it might ever change.

  “Aunt Hypatia,” Reeves asked, having listened carefully for some minutes, “are you certain that this printer is the right one for the job?”

  He’d thought about it a lot. Actually, to be completely honest with himself, he’d thought about Anna Miranda, almost constantly. For some reason, he couldn’t seem to get her off his mind. He kept picturing her contrite face as she’d made her apology last week, and somehow he now felt in the wrong.

  She’d always done that to him. She made his life miserable and one way or another he always felt to blame. How did she do that, and why did she have to turn up again after all these years? What was God trying to tell him? That his life could be worse? That was exactly what he was trying to avoid and not just for himself. Having seen the print shop and knowing his aunts’ expansive plans, Reeves truly felt that they would be better off taking their business elsewhere. Yet, because of one thing or another—primarily the complaining e-mails he’d been receiving daily from Marissa—he’d put off making the argument until now.

  Hypatia smiled her serene smile, the one that could make a troubled ten-year-old feel that all might actually one day be right with his world, and answered him. “Absolutely certain. Why do you ask, dear?”

  Why? Because he didn’t trust Anna Miranda. No matter what she said, there would surely be a shocking message buried in a letterhead or something else inappropriate. His aunts had always defended her, however, telling him that he didn’t understand her situation. The opposite seemed true to him. At least she hadn’t shuttled back and forth between her warring parents throughout her childhood as he had, never quite belonging either place. Maybe her grandmother, Tansy, was a bit difficult and not the warmest person, but at least she’d provided Anna Miranda with a stable home.

  “A larger shop would be better able to handle a job this size,” he argued, “and with Dallas just up the road—”

  “In other words, you think our shop will do shoddy work,” Anna interrupted hotly. “Or is it just my abilities that you doubt?”

  Reeves clenched his jaw. He had studiously avoided making eye contact with her, but now he leveled a stare at her face. “I didn’t say that. I just don’t want my aunts to be embarrassed. This scholarship fund is important to them.”

  Odelia laughed, her pendulous earrings wriggling. “Oh, sweetie,” she chuckled. “We’re embarrassed all the time.”

  “Not that Anna Miranda has or would embarrass us,” Mags put in quickly.

  “Anna Miranda is a very gifted artist, Reeves,” Hypatia told him, “and she’s a very dear girl.”

  Very dear? Not the Anna Miranda he remembered. And no girl, either, he thought, not anymore. How, he wondered, did she manage to appear so casually polished and smirk at the same time? She looked…womanly, innately female, right down to that twisted little smile.

  “Besides,” Anna Miranda said, “there are a surprising number of items needed, but not so many copies of each that a larger printer would find it worthwhile.”

  Reeves opened his mouth to argue with that, but just then Gilli came sliding into the room in her stocking feet, her hair wet, her T-shirt and pants twisted.

  “Daddy, I had a aksident and Carol made me take a bath!” she complained.

  Automatically, he demanded, “What did you do?”

  Mags and Auntie Od reached out to Gilli, clucking and quickly righting her clothes, while Hypatia explained that they’d had a little incident involving homemade cookies and an open bag of flour. Groaning inwardly, Reeves folded his arms.

  “And just how did that bag of flour tip over, Gilli?”

  Poking out her bottom lip, Gilli shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  He doubted that, but she just stood there staring up at him with those wide eyes. Anna cleared her throat. Suddenly mortified that she, of all people, should witness this, Reeves made a snap decision. His daughter would not lack discipline as Anna Miranda evidently had. He would not have a brat of his own.

  “Go to your room, Gilli,” he ordered, “and do not come out again until you’re called down for dinner.” Wailing, Gilli tore out of the parlor. Avoiding all gazes, especially Anna’s, Reeves said, “I apologize. I’ll make sure she’s in her room, then I think I’ll go out for a run.”

  “We’ll keep an eye on her,” Magnolia offered gently.

  “Try to enjoy your run, dear,” Ophelia told him, pity in her voice.

  Some days his runs were all he did enjoy. Casting around a wan smile, Reeves strode out after his daughter. Tonight, he desperately wanted to run away from his troubles. Of late, those troubles all seemed female in nature. First Marissa had reminded him that she held joint custody of their daughter in a veiled attempted to make him renegotiate their divorce settlement. Then he returned to his one sanctuary to find Anna Miranda there and Gilli
upsetting the household. All together, it was enough to add miles to his regular routine.

  Of all his problems, however, Anna Miranda was the one he couldn’t get off his mind. She had once seemed intent on making his life miserable, and now she was at it again. He knew, as he had known even way back in school, that the best way to deal with her was to ignore her. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem able to do it now, which made no sense at all.

  Then again, what in his life did?

  The aunts exchanged worried glances as they settled for evening prayers.

  Odelia pulled her hot pink robe tighter as she snuggled into the corner of the well-used sofa. Several dozen pink foam curlers covered her head. “It’s too bad Reeves had to work this evening,” she commented sadly. “Gilli missed him.”

  Reeves had returned from his run with only enough time to hurriedly shower before sliding into his seat at the dinner table. After the meal, he’d spent the evening in his room on his laptop, while Gilli played glumly in the shared private sitting room of the aunties’ suite. Grumpy and sullen, the child had whined and fussed until Reeves had come and taken her off to bed. It had become painfully obvious that Reeves avoided the child, which was why she acted out.

  “Remind you of anyone?” Hypatia asked from her chair beside the fireplace.

  “Just Anna Miranda,” Mags said, dropping down beside Odelia.

  “Oh, but Tansy didn’t ignore Anna Miranda,” Odelia protested.

  Mags snorted. “She criticized her daylight to dark, you mean.”

  “Do you remember that time Tansy scolded little Anna Miranda for plucking roses off her front bushes?” Odelia asked with a giggle.

  Hypatia nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. “As I recall, Anna Miranda used a pair of sewing scissors to snip off every one of Tansy’s prized blossoms. The result was a bumper crop the next year.”

  All three chuckled, but then Mags sobered. “If anyone can understand Gilli, it is Anna Miranda,” she insisted.

  “Well, it’s certainly not Reeves,” Hypatia said with a sigh. “I’ve tried speaking to him about it myself a time or two, but he always seems so hurt by the slightest criticism.” They all knew who was responsible for that. Marissa had destroyed Reeves’s hard-won self-esteem. “I suppose we must simply pray that God will somehow reach him.”