She felt as helpless as they looked. “I’m no expert,” she said.
“Okay, let’s leave,” Lizzie said and turned as if she was going to walk out.
Noah plopped down on a couch and propped his legs on the nearby chair arm. “I’ll just learn to live like this.”
Trying to join in their playful antics, Megan touched a finger to the side of her face. “Wait. Something’s coming to me.”
Noah’s friendly smile and the way his eyes had of narrowing in that pleased way was disconcerting. She should not give the impression all was well between her and Noah. Actually, there was something between them...and that was Michael.
Turning her attention to the nearest chair she placed her hand on the back of it. “Design shouldn’t just please the designer. It should please the individual. What kind of living room do you want? Do you want the historic significance to be the outstanding feature?”
Perhaps her attempt at a more professional approach had worked. She saw interest in his eyes.
“For example,” she continued, “my living room is conducive to a B and B. Three of us lived with grandmother, so the living room has two couches facing each other with the fireplace adjacent to them. The coffee table serves both couches. That way several people can be comfortable and relate to each other easily. Do you want—”
Noah put his feet on the floor again and he looked around. “I get what you mean. I would like the living room to be comfortable and inviting to guests. But I don’t want it to look like a museum. Some of these pieces belonged to my grandparents and I don’t think they got them new.”
“No, these are definitely period pieces,” Megan said appreciatively. She nodded to a piece that was undoubtedly a priceless antique. “That dresser will likely bear the carved initials of the one who built it by hand.”
Megan looked at Aunt B, who took that as a signal to walk over and join the conversation. Being a connoisseur of her own antiques, she would recognize the value in the room. She had, in fact, offered much instruction on various pieces when Megan became friends with Annabelle and had commented on her furnishings.
Aunt B said, “Megan is right, Noah. And you’re probably aware of the historic significance.”
He smiled. “Dad in particular has threatened to disown me if I would even think of dispensing with any of this.”
Aunt B nodded. “Would you want the house to be part of a historic tour?”
“I wouldn’t mind that,” he said. “People come here to see how others lived and I really like the historic pieces better than any contemporary ones I’ve seen.” He lifted his hands and eyebrows. “I mean, I am in the renovation business, restoring homes to their former glory. But,” he said, returning his attention to Megan, “I also want a livable place. One that’s comfortable for a few people.”
Symon grinned at him. “Sounds like you have something serious in mind.”
“I hope,” Noah said with a glance his way. “I don’t want it to look completely like an exhibit—or like a bachelor pad.”
“I know the feeling,” Lizzie piped up. “I’ve hoped for years but nothing’s happened yet, so you’d better just arrange this house to suit you and not wait around with hopes that can easily be dashed.”
Megan watched as the two eyed each other, as if both knew about dashed hopes. Or were they wondering if their hopes might be met in each other? The possibilities seemed to hang in the air until Noah turned toward a chest of drawers and began discussing it. “This belonged to my grandmother. It was passed down from her grandmother and I don’t know who before that. But my dad has descriptions and information about some of the pieces.”
Megan heard him but at the same time she focused on Lizzie, who turned toward her, lifted her green eyes to the high ceiling and back again and shrugged as if to say there was no hope there. She supposed nothing had clicked between Lizzie and Noah.
Noah’s words, “I hope,” registered with Megan again. What did he hope for? Someone like Loretta?
She hadn’t really thought of him as separate from Michael. Michael’s cousin. Michael’s confidant. Living in Michael’s home. But...maybe Noah was involved with someone he hoped would live with him here.
In a way, that was like picturing Michael with someone else. This was not easy. But okay. Noah wanted a home that had historical significance and beauty, like other historic homes in the area. She liked that.
He also wanted something that would appeal to...a woman? Then, if he had a woman, why not ask her what she wanted?
But she mustn’t be so personal. The others were looking at pieces, discussing, appraising, approving. The important thing right now was making this place livable. When his personal hope was realized, then whoever fulfilled it could make her own suggestions.
For now, he’d asked for hers.
“Okay,” she said finally, causing the others to quiet. “These two couches could face each other. This could be an entertainment place for a group or where tourists come to see period furniture and learn about your family’s background and history.”
“I don’t know that it’s important.”
“Of course it is,” she said. “Your family has a well-known business that Michael said had been in the family for generations.” She hated what she had to add. “If he was telling the truth.”
“It’s the truth,” Noah said.
Megan did not like the thought that she’d believed Michael. Could she believe Noah? Or any man? She wanted to trust.
Looking around as if thinking about the furniture, she was really thinking about Michael not wanting to work in the renovation business. He had not seemed to appreciate his family’s contribution to society or the area. Noah seemed to.
“She’s right,” Aunt B said. “My house could easily be a showplace. After all, my dad, who was a senator, lived there. People are interested in such things. They like to make connections with people and how they lived, even if they lived poorly. But, my bedroom, sitting room and kitchen are the places where I really live.”
“And the front porch,” Symon added.
“Oh, yes.” They exchanged an affectionate look. Thinking of Aunt B’s house, the historic significance of that antebellum mansion and yet the homey coziness of most of it, Megan had an idea. “Let’s go into the bedroom next to the kitchen.”
They followed her.
“I’m just going to pop in to the kitchen and dining room,” Willamina said.
Megan stepped into the bedroom and moved aside so the others could enter. “You really don’t need a designer,” she said. “The design of the house and furniture with a few additions of accessories would be perfect. I can only give my opinion of arrangement.” She shrugged. “And so can everyone else.”
No one else said anything, so she figured her opinion was expected first. “Okay,” she began, “The first time I looked in this bedroom I thought it would be ideal as a sitting room or den. It’s more private than the other rooms, having windows only on the one side.” She gestured to the windows. “It’s next to the kitchen and there’s a fireplace where one could read, or eat or whatever. For one person—or two, in particular. It’s cozier than the kitchen and more inviting than the spacious dining room.”
Noah looked surprised. “I never thought of turning a bedroom into a sitting room.”
“It’s just a room,” she countered. “It’s only the bed that makes it a bedroom.”
“And that could be moved out,” he said reflectively.
“Exactly.”
He was nodding. His hint of a smile made those appealing creases at the side of his mouth. Michael’s had been more at the center of his cheeks. Dimples. Like a cute kid, at times. At first. Then it changed and Michael hadn’t smiled very much.
Which had been the real Michael?
The happy-go-lucky one?
Or the morose one?
Which had been the pretender? She didn’t know. She didn’t really know Michael after all.
They’d talked about the house. He’d showed it to her. Had mentioned the historic significance, but he hadn’t seemed to care about that. Now she wondered why Michael had brought her here in the first place. Then, she’d thought it was because of her interest in anything historical. Now she wondered if it had been a ploy to get her alone.
He had seemed more ardent here. But she hadn’t thought that unusual, their being alone in his house. Now, she’d lost perspective or trust in many things and people. Michael hadn’t been interested in the house as much as he’d been interested in her. She’d felt complimented. Now she wondered. About him. About his motives. Had he really been serious about her in a lasting way? Or was it only temporary?
She shook away the thoughts as her friends were discussing her suggestion and seeming to like it. After a while Noah’s eyes met hers. They held that silver glint. They darkened when he was concerned. They brightened when he was pleased.
“I like the idea,” he said. “Very much. You’re right. This is a big house with a lot of rooms. Why not have the combination of history reminding me of my ancestry and yet have my own private spots?” He turned his animated face toward Aunt B. “Like Miss B said about her house.”
He turned to the others. “I’m not even sure,” he said, “which was Michael’s bedroom.”
Megan stared at him, saw the color creep into his face as his eyes darkened and he looked away. She knew, and she didn’t mind saying it. Knowing where someone’s bedroom was didn’t mean... She spoke clearly. “It’s upstairs. The first one on the right. And the bedroom next to it would make a beautiful sitting room for a woman, in particular. She could look out on that lovely backyard, watch the morning sun come into the room. A small balcony could be built where the windows are.”
“Well,” Noah said, touching the wooden headboard amid a few chuckles. “Who wants to help me take that bed down and put it into the basement?”
All the women pointed to Symon, who said, “I think I might volunteer.”
Willamina stuck her head into the room. “You might want to get Doris and her crew in here to clean everything, including the baseboards, before you start pushing that furniture up against the walls.”
“Good idea,” Noah agreed. “That reminds me. I have a crew that’s expert at moving.” He grinned. “And I think I can get them at a reasonable price.”
They all laughed and then Noah offered a tour of the house. “Maybe you could suggest which would be the best room for Dr. Beauvais.” He turned to Symon. “He’s able to do stairs all right, isn’t he?”
“As able as Aunt B.” Symon chuckled and grinned at Aunt B, who gave him a warning look and said, “You be careful, son.”
They all toured the house and the backyard, where Symon, having been the son of Aunt B’s caretaker, gave some expert advice. For the most part, one couldn’t improve on the natural growth of live oaks, magnolias and azaleas.
Noah looked content. When they were ready to go he thanked them profusely. “You all make me feel like I’m coming back to life. Not just with—” he looked over his shoulder “—the house.” He turned to them again with that endearing look. “But in my personal life. Readjusting to everyday life isn’t as easy as one might suppose.”
“We need each other,” Aunt B said, “but it’s that faith you’ve talked about that will see you through difficult adjustments.”
He nodded.
“Good food helps, too,” Willamina said. “I left Doris’s and my cards in your kitchen.”
“Thanks,” he said, looking pleased.
As they walked to their cars, Noah said, “Megan.” She stopped.
“I still need you to tell me, and the crew, where to put the furniture.” He paused. “If you will.”
“I said I would.” She glanced at Lizzie, who walked a few steps away and picked at an azalea leaf.
Megan glanced again at Noah and jested, “I don’t have a card.”
“Of course I’ll pay you anyway.”
Her breath caught. “I was trying to joke. There is no charge.” Glancing at Lizzie she saw a lush green leaf float to the ground. Megan shook her head. “All I might do is give an opinion on arranging furniture.”
“But the sitting room idea was such a perfect suggestion. It suits me and what I want in my house, but I wouldn’t have thought of it. To show my appreciation,” he began before she could form a coherent word, “why don’t I come by your house and express my opinion about what might be changed for a B and B?” He grinned. “And I do have a card.”
“Well, like you said, you do have a business and I don’t expect you to make a free house call.”
He was shaking his head. “Megan. I was trying to joke.”
It was her turn to shake her head. She hated the idea they had to be so careful with each other. As if he was an enemy. He must think her a complete ninny.
She was about to say to forget the whole thing. Anybody could give an opinion about where to put furniture, and if it didn’t look right, you could move it.
But Lizzie walked up to them. “In the morning would be perfect, wouldn’t it, Megan? Tomorrow’s your day off so you don’t have to think about getting ready for work. And I’m not joking.”
Nevertheless, Noah chuckled. “After my morning swim, I have a project I want to check on. Could we have lunch and discuss the B and B?” He touched his forehead, where the golden platinum hair fell over his brow in that free style. “But you have brunch, right?”
“Unless I have something else planned. I can grab a cup of coffee and a bagel or something.”
“Fine. It’s a date.” He added quickly on a thin breath, “I’ll call you.”
The color that rose to his face was likely the same as hers. A date?
Not a date date.
That was just another word for appointment.
Chapter 17
The next morning, Megan was still explaining the meaning of “date” to Lizzie, who continued to tease her about it. Megan picked up her ringing phone and, seeing who the caller was, turned on the bar stool away from Lizzie’s inquiring green eyes.
“Hello?” She listened. “Yes, that’s fine. All right. Sure. Bye.” After a deep breath she turned again to her bagel and coffee.
“Was that your date calling?” Lizzie said slyly.
Megan gave her a warning look. “It’s not that kind of date,” she protested. “Remember, you and I are going to be single all our lives.”
With the flip of her hand Lizzie slung her hair out of her face. “He called it a date.”
Megan countered. “A date can also be an appointment or a meeting. That’s what this is. He’s nursing a broken heart and I see him as an unreasonable facsimile of Michael.”
“Right. And you don’t want to repeat history, do you? Like getting back with Michael?”
“I don’t know how I’m to feel about Michael. I don’t know him. And I don’t know Noah. And don’t want to. This meeting is like an interview to see what either of us thinks about this house being a B and B. I don’t even know if I’d go with his company.”
“Where’s he taking you for lunch?”
She wiggled her ponytail and lifted her chin. “He’s not. After I show him the second floor, I’ll simply tell him that I don’t feel like going to lunch.” She huffed. “And I’m sure not fixing lunch for him here.”
Lizzie looked askance. “You think he’d expect that?”
“No, not really.” Megan sighed. “We’re both careful about each other. Anyway, I’m not dressed to go out anywhere.” She’d given thought to her clothing and was in khaki twill knee-length shorts and a sleeveless V-neck cotton jersey camisole with an
empire waist. Its white background sported strawberry, black and khaki stripes. The clothing expert Annabelle had helped her pick the outfit. It was casual enough not to imply she was dressing up for him. “After we talk about the B and B, I’ll just say we don’t need to go to lunch and I really should go to Aunt B’s and discuss wedding plans.”
At Lizzie’s stare and shake of her head, Megan said, “That’s not lying. It’s something you and I do at every opportunity.” At Lizzie’s grin she said, “What?”
“I don’t know. For some reason I thought of Shakespeare and his methinks remark.”
Megan gasped. “I’m not protesting about anything. I just don’t...don’t...” She had to think a moment. “Don’t want to give him any more ammunition for his report to Michael.”
“He can’t very well report if he’s not in contact with him.”
A sense of helplessness lifted Megan’s shoulders in a shrug. Did Noah really not know where Michael was? Was his family trying to find him? How would they know whether he’s all right?
The doorbell chimed.
They both headed for the front. “Must be him,” Lizzie said.
“Wonder why he didn’t park out back?”
“Gentlemen pick their dates up at the front door.”
Megan looked out the living room window while Lizzie headed for the foyer. “I don’t see his car.”
“Maybe you’re going to walk for lunch.”
Megan nodded. “Now that’s gentlemanly, isn’t it?”
“Depends.” Lizzie opened the door. “Hi, Noah. Come in. And thanks a lot. Because of you, I even did a little housekeeping this morning.”
He laughed. “You thought that necessary, after seeing the mess I live in?”
She shook her head. “Megan made me do it.”
She stretched out her hand toward the living room as if presenting Megan. He stepped in and said, “Good morning.”
“Morning,” she said, thinking he didn’t look a mess. Well, except his silvery blond hair. It had that messy groomed look that she’d thought so adorable on Michael. Noah’s seemed even fuller, as if begging for fingers to muss it or sweep it back. It looked as if the wind had whipped it to one side while locks fell over part of his forehead in a casual way to complement his attire.
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