by Arlene James
“These are quite good.”
She managed a blasé nod and a dry, “Thanks.”
He went back to the designs, tapping the fourth with the tip of one forefinger. “This one’s the best.”
Anna stifled a crow of delight.
“Well,” Hypatia said, sounding relieved, “that’s that.”
Odelia jerked, all but physically throwing herself back into the fray. “Oh, but…what about the staff?”
“The staff?” Mags echoed.
“They ought to have a say in this. We’ll be depending on them, after all, to keep everything running smoothly the night of the auction.”
“Odelia,” Hypatia said wearily, pressing her fingertips to her temples.
Undetered, Odelia began gathering up the designs. “I know, we’ll take these back to the kitchen.” She nudged her sisters to their feet. “We’ll each make our case, and see what Chester, Hilda and Carol have to say. That seems fair, doesn’t it?”
Hypatia sighed and sent an apologetic look to Reeves, who lifted a hand to the back of his neck. Absolutely no one, including Anna, was surprised when Odelia turned to him and instructed, “Now, Reeves, dear, you’ll entertain Anna Miranda for us for a few minutes, won’t you?” She began pushing and shooing her sisters from the room. “So rude to leave her sitting here on her own, you know.”
Anna watched the whole thing in bemused fascination, especially the part where Odelia winked at Reeves then pinched her thumb and forefinger together and drew them across her lips in a zipping motion.
“Yeah, thanks for that,” he said wryly.
Anna waited until their footsteps receded before favoring him with a direct look, her elbows braced against the arms of the chair. “What on earth is that about?”
“Don’t ask,” he grumbled, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “Just let this be a lesson to you. Be very, very exact when dealing with my aunts.”
“They can be a little…scattered.”
He snorted. “That’s one word for it.”
“Actually, I think they’re very sweet.”
“Well, of course, they’re sweet!” he exclaimed. “That’s half the problem.”
“What problem?” she shot back, stung. “I wasn’t aware there was a problem, unless having to give your opinion has strained your brain.”
“Ha-ha. Very funny. I hope you didn’t pull a muscle coming up with that one.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake!” Anna shot to her feet and sidestepped the table. Why did he have to be so difficult, anyway? She thought they’d gotten past this.
Just then, Anna caught a muffled roaring sound, followed swiftly by a shrill, elongated scream. The next instant, Gilli burst into the room, wailing like a police siren, and shot across the floor on, of all things, roller skates, the cheap plastic sort that strapped over the soles of the shoes. She headed straight for the antique Empire breakfront in the corner. Reeves leapt forward to snatch up a priceless Tiffany lamp, while Anna lunged with outstretched arms for Gilli.
The pair of them went down in a tangle of limbs. Fortunately, they missed the tall Federal table in the center of the floor and the enormous flower arrangement atop it. A small elbow landed in Anna’s midsection, knocking the air out of her in a painful rush. For one long moment, all was silent and still. Then a sigh gusted forth, and Reeve’s handsome head, paired up nicely with a stained glass lampshade, appeared above her.
“And so,” he muttered, “goes my life.”
Anna laughed. The look on his face, the droll tone of his voice, the memory of Gilli’s flailing arms as she flew across the floor, even the collision that had Anna on her back—again—gazing up at his resigned, hangdog expression, it all suddenly seemed like something out of an old slapstick comedy. Oh, how little he appreciated that, but his frowns merely made her laugh that much harder. It had been a long time since she’d had this much fun. Too long. She pushed up onto her elbows, Gilli sprawled all over her, and as was too often the case, said the first thing that came to mind.
“You know something, Stick? I’ve missed you.”
He couldn’t have looked more appalled if she’d decorated him with her lunch, but that didn’t change a thing. She had missed him. She had missed him every single day since he’d graduated from high school, and some part of her always would.
She had missed him.
The idea warmed, shocked and alarmed Reeves all at the same time. He recognized the glow in the corner of his heart with disgust. Was he so desperate to be loved that even an offhanded quip from a girl who had all but tortured him could produce such a reaction? Or was it Tansy and the aunties who had put that into his mind?
Groaning, he decided that God must be punishing him. That had to be the case. Yet, had Solomon not written that the Lord disciplines those He loves?
But does it have to be her, Lord? he asked in silent prayer. Isn’t Gilli enough?
Horrified that he’d thought of his own child as punishment, Reeves reached down a hand to help as Gilli began struggling up onto her knees. It was Anna Miranda’s hand that found his, however, and with his other still clutching the Tiffany lamp, he had little choice but to haul her up. She came to her feet with a little hop and a cheeky smile. Gilli collapsed upon the hardwood floor and began to wail as if she’d broken all four limbs.
Tamping down his impatience with such melodrama, Reeves turned to set aside the lamp so he could help his daughter up, but when he turned back, she was already on her feet, thanks to Anna Miranda. Gilli abruptly yanked away from her, and threw herself at Reeves with a cry of outrage, her skates slipping and sliding as she clamped her arms around his thighs. Reeves sent an embarrassed look at Anna Miranda before grasping Gilli by the shoulders and holding her far enough away that he could look down into her face. He saw more petulance there than pain or fear.
“Cut it out,” he ordered over the din of phony sobs.
“I fell down!” she defended hotly.
The last tenuous thread of Reeves’s patience snapped. “I said to cut it out!” he roared. As he rarely raised his voice to her, Gilli was shocked into frozen silence.
Not so Anna Miranda, who brought her hands to her slender hips and snapped, “You cut it out. It’s all your own fault, you know.”
Exasperated, Reeves glared at her. “My fault? I didn’t come flying in here on skates.”
“No, but you might have taught her to skate properly before this,” Anna reasoned.
Gilli immediately seized on that notion. “Yes, Daddy! Teach me! Please, please!”
He ignored her, focusing on the one who’d opened this can of worms. “And how am I supposed to do that?” he demanded. “Look at her. She’s not old enough for that.”
“I am!” Gilli insisted, her tears suddenly dried.
“Of course she is,” Anna Miranda agreed, folding her arms.
“I think I know my daughter better than you do, thank you very much. Besides, I don’t even own a pair of skates myself, let alone all the necessary safety equipment for the two of us.”
“So get some,” Anna Miranda retorted.
“I got skates!” Gilli interjected desperately. “Real skates. My mama brought them at Christmas.”
“Sent them,” Reeves corrected distractedly. “She sent you a pair of roller skates, but they’re too big for you.” Gilli had waited with breathless anticipation for her mother to arrive for Christmas as Marissa had promised during her one visit some six months ago, but all that had arrived was a crumpled card and a pair of roller skates with hard pink-and-purple plastic boots two sizes too large.
“They’re not too big!” Gilli insisted. “And I’m old. I am!”
Reeves pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gilli, I’m not going to argue about this. All I need is you flailing around here on skates. You’ll break a leg. Or worse.”
“All the more reason to teach her,” Anna Miranda insisted.
It was the last straw for Reeves. Lifting Gilli by her upper arms, he s
at her in a nearby Victorian lyre-back chair and began stripping off the cheap demi-skates, which consisted of nothing more than rollers attached to a platform that belted to shoes with fasteners. He’d thought to placate her with them when she’d discovered that she couldn’t wear the “real” skates that her mother had sent, but he hadn’t realized she could get the demi ones on by herself, which was why he hadn’t refused when she’d insisted on bringing both pairs with her to Chatam House.
“When you become a parent,” he told Anna Miranda coldly, “maybe your opinion will matter.”
“You know what your problem is, Stick?” she shot back. “Your problem is that you were never a child.”
Straightening, he whirled. “That’s rich coming from someone who has obviously never grown up!”
“And who never wants to, if growing up means achieving pure stupidity.”
“Stupid would be teaching my daughter to do something so dangerous as skating!”
“As opposed to letting her teach herself, I suppose.”
“As opposed to dropping these in the nearest trash can!” he yelled, holding up the skates by their plastic straps.
Gilli threw herself off the chair and pelted from the room, yowling her outrage at the top of her lungs. Reeves sighed, slumping dejectedly. Wow, he’d handled that well. Once more, he’d let the brat get to him, and he didn’t mean his daughter. What was it about Anna Miranda Burdett that turned him into a crude adolescent? And why could he never hit the right note with his daughter?
Father, forgive me, he prayed, squeezing his eyes shut. I fail at every turn, and I’m as tired of me as You must be. In the name of Christ Jesus, please help me do better!
He sucked in a deep breath and grated out an apology. “I didn’t mean to shout.”
“Well, you sure do plenty of it” was Anna Miranda’s droll reply. She glared at him from behind folded arms.
Suddenly, Reeves craved a run with every fiber of his being. Maybe some exercise and a long, private talk with God would give him the serenity and clarity to deal with this latest insanity. Loosening his tie, he said to Anna Miranda in what he felt was a very reasonable tone, “Please tell my aunts that I’ve gone for a run before dinner.”
Some seconds ticked by before she reluctantly nodded. Reeves headed for his room and the numb exhaustion of a hard run in the February cold, more heartsick than angry now and helpless to do a thing about any of it.
Intellectually, he knew that Gilli’s behavior had to do with her mother’s abandonment. Marissa hadn’t even said goodbye to Gilli before she’d slammed out of the house and run down the drive to jump onto the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle, which made her recent communication all the more absurd. Marissa had been a pitiful mother, but Gilli couldn’t know that. All she knew was that her mother had walked out, and she seemed to blame him. It hurt far more than he would ever let on. In fact, nothing in his life had ever made Reeves feel like such a failure as Gilli’s resentment of him, which was undoubtedly why he had been so rude to Anna Miranda just now. For some reason, it embarrassed him to have her know in how little regard his own daughter held him.
That, of course, was no excuse. As he changed into his jogging outfit, he apologized to God once again for his behavior and attitude. He would do better, he vowed. He would do better with Gilli and, God help him, with Anna Miranda, too. Somehow.
Chapter Four
It seemed to Anna that Reeves needed to be taught a lesson. He needed to learn that his daughter could, indeed, learn to skate—and behave—given enough time, attention, patience and praise. Surely, once she showed up with all the requisite gear, he’d have to let her try; otherwise, Gilli would never forgive him. Maybe he wouldn’t be happy about it, but, oh, well. Anna would not even consider that he might be right about Gilli being too young. She’d get Gilli rolling if it killed her. Then let the big goof tell her what an immature idiot she was.
Reeves wasn’t the only reason Anna wanted to do this, though. She felt for Gilli, recognized the yawning, unknowing need in her. What that poor kid really wanted was attention and reassurance, not constant criticism and impatient, domineering control.
The Chatam triplets returned to declare the “classic Chatam House” motif their choice. They seemed deflated at finding her alone in the parlor, but Anna merely smiled, delivered Reeves’s message and promised to return tomorrow with samples of the motif printed on various papers.
The next day was Saturday and Valentine’s Day, to boot, but Anna saw no reason to delay, especially considering what she had in mind for Gilli. She swung by the shop to pick up sample papers, then as soon as she got home pulled down her old in-line skates from the top shelf of her bedroom closet. Next, she went to work on the mock-ups. Once her personal printer had spit out those, Anna set about designing a pair of hand-drawn Valentines, one for the triplets, using the Chatam House theme, to thank them for their business and unfailing kindness, and a glittery one for Gilli, featuring a curly-haired little girl pirouetting on roller skates while wearing a pink tutu, muffler and mittens.
After a quick dinner, Anna made a run to the local discount store and bought protective gear for Gilli, stuffing it into a big, pink paper bag with red tissue paper, confident that she would have put Reeves Leland firmly in his place by noon the next day. As she slipped into bed that night, she told herself that, for once, Valentine’s Day promised to be sweet, indeed.
Hypatia answered the front door at Chatam House the next morning. Dressed in a lovely soldier blue, cowl-neck knit sheath and buckled pumps dyed to match, with pearls at her throat and her silver hair twisted into its usual smooth chignon at her nape, she looked fit to meet the Queen of England over tea; her smile could not have been more gracious if she had been.
“Good morning, dear,” she all but sang. The gray morning seemed to brighten.
“Good morning!”
“Come in, please.” Anna stepped into the spacious entry hall and set aside her portfolio and the gift bag to shrug out of her coat while Hypatia continued to speak. “What is that you have there, dear?”
Anna turned to smile over one shoulder. “Just a little something for a little someone. And the paper samples, of course.”
“Of course. How very prompt you are, and how kind of you to think of Gilli. It’s very timely. She’s in a bit of a snit because her father had to go in to work this morning.”
Anna’s spirits dimmed. She had been strangely looking forward to butting heads with Reeves again. This way was probably better, though.
“Maybe I can brighten Gilli’s mood a bit,” Anna said. “We had a little, er, skating altercation yesterday, and I thought I might give her a lesson. My gear’s in the car.”
“I’m sure she’ll be delighted. We’re still nursing our morning tea out in the sunroom. Won’t you join us?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Anna took up her leather portfolio and the gift bag to follow along behind Hypatia. Reeves would undoubtedly disapprove of her plans for Gilli. They might even argue about it after the fact. The possibility made Anna smile. She had forgotten what fun it was to argue with Reeves. His quick wit easily matched hers, and she found his innate sense of outrage deliciously ridiculous. She couldn’t help feeling disappointed that she wouldn’t see him this morning. The sunroom lifted her spirits significantly, however.
Two glass walls, numerous plants and groupings of comfortable bamboo furnishings upholstered in colorful fabric printed with oversized flowers gave the space an airy, tropical feel that bravely defied the gray Texas winter. Anna found the other two sisters lounging on matched chaises. A small table between them held teacups and saucers. Magnolia, she noted, wore her usual garb, while Odelia’s red plaid jumper and yellow silk blouse warred violently with the upholstery upon which she reclined. The red enamel hearts clipped to her earlobes were the size of drink coasters. It was Gilli, however, who drew Anna’s interest. Wearing jeans and a purple turtleneck, she sprawled half on, half off a deeply padded c
hair, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout.
“Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” Anna remarked lightly, sinking down onto the plush chair that Hypatia indicated with a wave.
Magnolia sighed. “Reeves had to go in to work today. He’s having some issues with an important negotiation.”
“It’s really not his fault,” Odelia put in, glancing at Gilli, who made a rude sound and curled into a ball on the seat of the chair, covering her head with her arms.
Anna smiled to herself and placed the paper bag on the floor nearby. “What a shame,” she said with a sigh. “I guess that means Gilli won’t be interested in what I’ve brought her.” Anna pulled the two handcrafted Valentine cards from her portfolio.
Gilli’s arms relaxed, and her little chin with its tiny cleft lifted as she attempted to peer in Anna’s direction without being too obvious about it. Anna passed one of the cards to Hypatia, saying, “This is for the three of you. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Odelia clapped her hands as Hypatia extracted the card from its envelope.
“How lovely. Thank you, dear,” Hypatia said, showing the front of the card to her sisters. She quickly read the sentiment penned inside and passed the card to Magnolia.
Magnolia passed the card to Odelia, smiling at Anna. “You do such good work, Anna Miranda, but what’s in the bag, dear?”
“Oh,” Anna said, “that goes with this second card, the one I’d hoped to give to a certain little girl.”
Gilli sat up, her curiosity getting the better of her. “I’m a little girl,” she said.
Anna bit back a chuckle. “So you are. The very little girl I had in mind, actually.”
Gilli slid off her chair and went straight to the bag, but Hypatia forestalled her. “Card first, Gilli.”
The girl paused, eyes wide. Smoothly, Anna offered the card to Gilli. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetie.”
