by Girard, Dara
“Then why do you look like you’re ready to run?”
“Leave. Not run.”
He couldn’t help a grin. “You looked ready to run to me.”
“I just thought you might want to eat alone.”
“If I wanted to eat alone, I would have sat at a table by myself.”
“You’re only sitting here because you want me to stop asking questions about you.”
“That, and I’d also like the company.”
With me? Isabella wanted to laugh, as she sneaked another glance at the other young women in the restaurant. She returned her gaze to his lowered head as he cut a mushroom in half, waiting for the rest of the joke.
He suddenly looked up and their eyes met. Yes, his eyes could be dangerous. There was just too much intelligence there and something else that made her skin tingle. A glimmer of humor entered his gaze. “Come on, Izzy, you know me better than that. I don’t lie, remember?”
She nodded, not wanting to speak. The warmth of his gaze seemed to fan the heat he’d lit before with his smile. She shifted, awkward.
He pushed the appetizer towards her. “Go ahead and help yourself. You look hungry.”
“I’m not hungry.”
He pushed the plate closer.
She took a mushroom. “Thanks.” She bit into it and was surprised by how good it tasted. She’d come to Martha’s for years and had never tried it. “Mmm, these are good.”
“I know.”
She took another one.
“Why did you come back?”
“To settle down and get married.”
“Is that all?”
“That’s all for now.”
He was cagey, but Isabella was determined to pin him down. “You’ve shown a lot of interest in Gabby.”
“I like her. I always have.”
She took another mushroom. “I don’t want her to get hurt.”
He shook his head. “Nobody’s going to get hurt.”
“That might be your intention, but being practical is difficult when it comes to people and emotions.”
“Fortunately, I don’t let them get in my way.”
“People or emotions?”
“Both.”
“Sounds like a cold way to live.”
He shrugged. “Only to some.” He glanced down and stared amazed at the empty plate. He looked up at Isabella as she finished her last mushroom. “You really weren’t hungry, were you?”
She swallowed then covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He called the waitress over and ordered another plate. When the new order came, Isabella watched him eat then asked, “So, do you still do it?”
“Do I still do what?”
“You know.” She sent a meaningful glance at the mushrooms.
He finally understood. “Oh you mean this?” He positioned his spoon to face him, rested a mushroom on the handle then hit the spoon, popping the mushroom in his mouth like a catapult. “You mean that?”
“Yes. Show me how.”
He frowned. “You used to scold me when I did that.”
“That didn’t mean I wasn’t impressed.”
“Okay, I’ll show you how easy it is. Scoot over.”
To her horror, Alex sat down beside her. She tried to focus on what he was saying, desperate to ignore the feel of his thigh pressing against hers, the scent of wood that clung to his jacket, and most of all, the compelling beauty of his gaze. She would never mistake him for a lifeless portrait again. He was all too real.
“Izzy, you’re not paying attention.”
She tried to focus. “I’m sorry, this was probably a bad idea.”
“No, it’s not. I’m going to teach you how to do this.”
Alex proved to be a good teacher, but Isabella proved to be a clumsy student. Twice he had to catch a mushroom before it sailed into the next booth and once she nearly poked out her eye. But Alex was patient and determined she would get it and waited until she did, twenty minutes later she accomplished her goal.
“Very good.”
“Thank you.” She grabbed the ticket for her coffee and opened her wallet. “Let me pay for the first plate.”
Alex snatched the wallet from her. “Stop pretending. What are you planning to pay with? Lint?”
She snatched it back. “I have change.”
“How much?”
“None of your business. Move.”
“Izzy, I didn’t mean to tease you.”
“Now.”
He reluctantly stood. “Let me pay.”
“Why? Is that part of the game?”
His jaw twitched. “I’m trying to be nice.”
“But I can’t be nice to you? Only you can spend money? Is that how the game goes?”
“I’m trying to help because I know you don’t have anything.”
“I have my dignity.”
“I was being friendly.”
“I know. It’s just that with you I always wonder why.” She stood and walked away.
Alex sat in his booth for several minutes after Isabella left then paid the bill. He shouldn’t have teased her. That was unfair. But she bothered him. He’d been thinking about her more than he wanted to and he didn’t know why. She didn’t interest him. Gabby was the one who did. She would make a perfect wife. He couldn’t have Isabella’s suspicions get in his way.
Alex walked to his truck and got in. He needed to win Isabella over. He passed the flower shop, then the bakery, and began to smile as the perfect idea came to mind.
She liked him. She wasn’t sure she trusted him, but she liked him. A lot. But how could she forget the condescending way he spoke about her family? The calculated manner in which he selected her sisters? Yet he had no pretence. He was honest about everything he did. He did not pretend to be anything, but who he was: an attractive, rich man in want of status in the form of a grand house and a suitable wife. Could she fault him? Had she been in his shoes, wouldn’t she have done the same thing? Wasn’t her sister also playing the so-called “game”? Yes, she liked him. Perhaps a little too much.
Days after their meeting in the restaurant, Isabella stood by her window and watched Gabby and Alex part. It wasn’t the first time she’d stood glued to the window in the attic, gazing down at them. There was always a gentle kiss goodbye. Isabella could see that there was true affection between them. And at the sight of them (Alex caressing Gabby’s cheek, Gabby resting her head on his shoulder), Isabella’s sleeping heart warmed. They were perfect.
There were no signs of the approaching spring and it seemed clear in a few days they would all have to move through the winter’s slush into the cottage so that Alex could begin renovation on the house. Two days before they had to leave, Isabella woke up to a loud pounding noise. She walked into the hall and met Mariella.
“This is unbearable,” Mariella said. “Who is that?”
Isabella turned back to her room. “They have work to do.”
“It’s the morning.” Mariella covered her ears then let her hands fall. “Don’t they know people have to sleep?”
“It’s nearly ten.”
“I don’t care.” She leaned over the railing and saw two booted legs sticking out from under the stairs. “You! Come out of there!”
The hammering stopped.
“Didn’t you hear me? I said come out of there.”
Alex emerged. Isabella bit her lip to keep from laughing; Mariella looked stunned.
“What are you doing?” she finally asked.
He balanced the hammer in his palm then gripped the handle. “Fixing the stairs. They were squeaking.”
“Don’t you have workers to do that?”
“I don’t mind.”
“Oh.” She gestured for him to continue. “Carry on then.”
He gave a low mocking bow. “Thank you.”
Isabella laughed. Alex winked before disappearing again.
Mariella made a face. “It’s not funny. He shouldn’
t go around as if he were some blue collar worker.”
“He wasn’t doing anything wrong. You made an assumption.”
Mariella’s mood didn’t improve the next day when she discovered the cottage only had three rooms and she would be forced to share with Isabella.
“But I’ve always had my own room,” she said as Isabella unpacked her bags.
“It’s only for a few months.”
“I can’t wait until Gabby gets married. I don’t know how much more of this ‘roughing it’ I can bear.”
Isabella agreed. Sharing a room with Mariella was already a chore because she demanded more than half of the room for her clothes and beauty supplies.
When time would allow, Isabella visited different apartments and managed to get two extra hours working for Mrs. Lyons. Although she told Mariella, she wasn’t impressed as she sat on her bed staring at her nails. “I just realized that I haven’t had a manicure in weeks. And do you know why?” She continued before Isabella could respond. “Because I can’t afford it.”
“Mariella, there are worse things.”
“What could be worse? Look at my hands.” She held them out for inspection.
“They look beautiful.”
“They look neglected, which they are. He’s pushed us out of our homes and he’s squeezing us into this sardine can.”
“It’s not that bad.”
Mariella fell back on the bed with an arm dramatically draped over her eyes. “I’m so unhappy.”
Isabella was about to reply when Gabby burst into their bedroom with Daniella close behind.
“Our problems are solved,” Daniella said.
Gabby nudged her. “Let me tell them.”
Mariella sat up. Isabella scrambled to her knees. “Tell us what?” She saw the look on Gabby’s face and her mouth fell open. “He didn’t.”
Gabby held out her hand and wiggled her fingers, showing off her engagement ring. “He did.”
“Isn’t it wonderful!” Daniella said.
Mariella clapped her hands. “Didn’t I tell you my plan was brilliant? I knew it would work.”
Isabella lifted Gabby’s hand and stared at the large diamond ring. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Gabby said.
Mariella tapped her chin. “Of course you must get married as soon as possible so he doesn’t have a chance to change his mind.”
“I don’t see why he would,” Daniella said. “This ring must have cost a fortune.”
Isabella sat back and looked at Gabby. “Are you happy?”
“Of course, she is,” Mariella interrupted. “Why wouldn’t she be? We’re going to be rich. Think of all the privileges she’ll have being his wife.” Mariella stood. “I’m going to go talk to Mrs. Carlton. Don’t worry Gabby, between us you will have a fabulous wedding.” She left.
Daniella moved to follow her. “Isn’t this wonderful? We won’t have to find another place to live after all. I’m going to talk to Sophia.” She kissed Gabby’s cheek then walked away.
Isabella drew her knees to her chest and kept her gaze on Gabby. “You haven’t answered my question. Are you happy?”
Gabby smiled. “Yes, I’m very happy. I like Alex and I’m getting a chance to help my family. What more could I want?”
Isabella shrugged.
Gabby’s smile slowly fell. “But you don’t seem happy.”
“Oh, I am. I…don’t…” She paused then said, “There’s just so much to think about. So many changes.”
“Don’t worry about anything. All our problems are solved.” She hugged her.
Isabella hugged her back, wanting to believe her.
Chapter 9
Isabella hated herself for not being happier. The burden of taking care of everyone was now gone. She could focus on her upcoming class in antiquing and prepare for her trip to Europe. What was there to worry about? Velma and Sophia’s excitement about the wedding soon allayed her fears. It was a perfect match. Alex and Gabby were of similar mindsets and interests, and everyone liked to point out what a handsome pair they made. She knew that they would learn to truly love each other.
As the start of her class grew closer, Isabella realized she had a big problem. She hadn’t thought through her schedule for work and class. She would have to get a replacement for her Thursdays with Mrs. Lyons. She paced the upstairs as she heard the excited voices of Velma, Sophia, Mariella and Gabby discussing the wedding in the living room. Later, when she saw Daniella sitting alone in her bedroom, flipping through magazines, Isabella came up with a solution.
She knocked on the doorframe. “Dani?”
Daniella held up a magazine and pointed to an entertainment system. “I’ve always wanted this. Do you think Gabby will let me buy it?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniella dog-eared the page. “I don’t see why not. She’ll have the money.”
“That doesn’t mean you can expect her to give you everything you want. She’s marrying Alex, not you.”
“I know that. But we’ve always taken care of each other.”
Isabella nodded and entered the room. “Yes, that’s a good point. Guess what? I could use your help.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really? Sure, I’ll help you. What do you want?”
“I want you to be my replacement with Mrs. Lyons for a few weeks.”
Her gaze dimmed. “How many weeks?”
“Eight.”
“Could I help you with something else?”
Isabella sat on the bed and gripped her hands together. “I know it’s asking a lot, but I will be taking classes that are important to me. I can’t work at Mrs. Lyons’s on those days and get to class in time.”
Daniella shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“It would only be one day a week. All you would be doing is reading or playing the piano or running errands. It won’t interfere with your job because it’s late afternoon to evening. I’ll do my other regular days. Please, help me out.”
Daniella sighed. “Okay.”
“Thank you. I promise to make it up to you.”
“There’s one way you can make it up to me.”
“How?”
She held up the magazine again. “Convince Gabby to get me this.”
Isabella shook her head. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She went to her room relieved that she had been able to convince Daniella. However, convincing Mrs. Lyons proved more difficult. “I don’t think I like you foisting your sister on me,” Mrs. Lyons said in a condescending tone as she sat in front of the large opened windows, a light breeze toying with the maroon scarf around her neck.
“I’m not foisting anyone on you. You will like Daniella and she will be a good help to you.”
She pursed her lips. “While you do what in the meantime?”
Isabella turned her back to her and plumped up a pillow. “I am taking another job.”
She nodded, coming to a conclusion. “I see. You want a raise.”
“No.” She turned to her. “Daniella will be a great help.”
Mrs. Lyons’s eyes flashed with disapproval. “I suppose I have no choice. The opinions of an old woman rarely bear much weight.”
Isabella stopped a grin. “Thank you for being so understanding.”
Less than a week later, Isabella eagerly drove to the local college where she’d registered for her antiquing course. It was a mini-mester course designed to help students learn about antiques — how to buy them, where to look and how much to pay. Although the course would put a hefty balance on her credit card, she thought it would be a good investment.
Once inside the building, Isabella darted up the concrete steps in awe of the stately pictures and awards on the walls. She didn’t want to linger. She’d never had a chance to go to college and didn’t want to feel intimidated. She came to the first door, A-112, and entered. She took a seat in the middle next to the aisle, watching the room quickly fill up. Isabella gingerly took out her yellow notepa
d and pen, while noticing other students around her booting up their laptops and other electronic devices.
She found it ironic that people interested in the past would be so addicted to present technology. Isabella kept her head down. She didn’t want to invite conversation and show how little she knew about the subject.
“Is this seat taken?” a deep voice asked from above.
She glanced up startled then nearly fell out of her seat. “What are you doing here?”
Alex settled into the chair next to her. “I want to learn more about antiquing and improve my mind.” He narrowed his eyes and pointed a warning finger at her. “Say one word and you’ll regret it.”
She grinned. “Maybe.”
He lowered his voice. “I’d make sure.”
“Then my lips are sealed.” She made a zipping motion across her mouth.
“You’re supposed to be nice to me.” He leaned towards her and smiled. “We’re going to be family soon.”
“Yes, I know.” She inched away, but he didn’t seem to notice. The problem with him was his size. He was big and everything about him seemed to invade her space rather than share it. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t need to. His masculine vitality penetrated the distance between them upsetting her senses in a purely feminine way.
“Are you going to offer me congratulations?”
“I think I’m going to wait.”
“Until when?”
“Until after you’re married.”
He studied her. “Do you think there won’t be a wedding?”
She shifted feeling awkward under his gaze. “I’m sure there will be. I just don’t feel like congratulating you twice.”
He shrugged. “Fair enough.” He leaned his chair back until it balanced on two legs. “So what are you doing here?”
“I want to know more about antiques.”
He set the chair down, rested his chin in his hand and studied her again. “Why?”
“Why do you?”
“Because I want to. You?” He held up a hand. “And you can’t use my reason, it’s already taken.”
She sighed, resigned that he wouldn’t leave her alone. “If you must know, I want to impress somebody.”
He blinked surprised, his eyebrows rising. “What’s his name?”
“Actually, it’s a she.”
