“I had no idea.”
“Most people don’t.
****
Days later, Aleen reached for her coffee cup and lifted it for a sip. Empty. She dragged her gaze away from the new printouts spread over the card table she’d set up in the corner of the living room for her genealogy study. Braden’s tip about seamen’s records archived at the Custom House had proved useful. Not that she was much further along on the Howland side, but she had discovered several MacRae ancestors who—
Knocking sounded from her front door.
Her head popped up, and a groan escaped. Not another tourist gone astray from the Manor. She tossed a disparaging glance down at her aqua flannel pajamas decorated with ice cream sundaes. Maybe she could ignore the intrusion, hoping the person would realize access to the cottage wasn’t included in the price of the tour. The part of her that had spent years being helpful wanted to address the issue. The part of her that enjoyed her lazy Saturday mornings rebelled. She stood, but headed toward the back of the house to get more coffee. The bargain that appeased both sides of her personality was that if the knock came again, she’d deal with the wayward person.
She stepped into the kitchen and cut a glance to the side to check on her feathered babies. “Doing okay, my birdies?”
The parakeets cocked their heads and watched her.
After grabbing creamer from the refrigerator, she was just pouring hot coffee over the white liquid, releasing a rich caramel scent, when a tap sounded on the window over her right shoulder. With a squeal, she jerked and spilled coffee on the counter. “Damn.”
Framed in a window pane was Braden’s grinning face. He lifted a hand in greeting and mouthed, “Morning.”
Double damn. He was one handsome man who made her pulse race every time she saw him.
Immediately, she lifted a hand to her hair, only half tamed by a banana clip, and realized the true state of her appearance. Unshowered, teeth unbrushed, and in her comfy jammies. Oh, great. But what did he expect when he dropped by unannounced and uninvited?
That realization put starch into her steps as she crossed to the back door and yanked it open. “Was that you at the front door a minute ago?”
“You ignored my knock?” His smile faltered and he ran his gaze up and down her figure. “Hey, I didn’t wake you, did I?” Stepping from under the eaves, he leaned back his head and looked toward the sky. “Must be close to ten. Are you one of those late sleepers?”
“One of those?” She hated being lumped into any group, but refused to explain to this man that Saturday was her only day to be casual about her schedule. “Did you want something? Sorry, that was rude.” She flashed a patented “work” smile. “What can I help you with?”
“Wow, you went straight into customer service mode, complete with canned tone and fake smile. How about we start over?” Smiling, he gave a half bow. “Good morning, Aleen. How are you this fine day?”
Caught off-guard, she could only blink. The man brought out her worst manners. But, he also made her smile. “Good morning, Braden. I’m fine. How about you?”
“I’m great. Had a three-mile run and a hearty breakfast. But I wouldn’t refuse another cup of coffee.” He sniffed the air and waggled his eyebrows.
Aleen stepped back and swept an arm toward her kitchen. “Come inside, please.” To calm her nerves, she bustled around fetching another cup from the cupboard and wiping up the spill on the counter. “Do you take anything in your coffee?”
“Just black.” Braden wandered the room, gazing out each window and studying the artwork on her walls.
Somehow, the room had shrunk to an impossibly small square footage. He seemed to take up more space than just what his body occupied. How very strange.
After freezing at the intrusion of a stranger, the birds flitted on their perches and chittered with occasional sounds that resembled one of the words from the training CD she played for them while at work.
“What are their names?”
“Captain and Tennille.” She handed him the mug and retreated to the counter.
“Interesting. Are you a fan of their music?”
“My mom was, so I had lots of exposure. I gave them the names of a duo because I bought them together and they’re a pair.” To keep from making any more inane comments, like how the names seemed like a connection to the woman who became a mystery, she sipped her coffee. Although she tucked a stray wave behind her ear, she resisted the urge to re-clasp her hair. No primping.
He leaned close to a framed sketch, studying the beach scene. “The initials read AFM. Did you draw this?”
“An early sketch from years ago.” From a time when her artist mom was still in her life and Aleen wanted so much to be like Nelda Howland MacRae.
“Is this from a place on the West coast?”
“Yes, Pt. Loma near San Diego.”
“Was your dad stationed there?”
How much should I reveal? “I grew up there, at least until he was transferred to Norfolk and I came here the summer before sixth grade. Is there a reason why you showed up today? Taking more measurements? Or maybe you’re part of the mansion tour?”
He leaned a hip on the counter and glanced over his coffee cup. “I’m taking you to the Museum of Yachting today.”
The audacious nerve of the man. “Really?”
“Summer before sixth grade, huh? I can’t believe you missed out on the ‘week on a tall ship’ in fifth grade. Everyone I know has had that experience.” He stretched out his hand and rested it on the counter only a couple inches away. “I want to introduce you to another part of this area’s history.”
“And if I have other plans for the day?”
A frown flashed over his face. He pushed to a stand and ran his free hand over his jaw. “I’m sorry. Being spontaneous is my nature. I probably should have called ahead. But of course, that means I would need to have your phone number.” He gave an exaggerated shrug. “Unfortunately, all I had was an address.”
“Pretty boy.” Tennille chirped.
Captain let out a wolf whistle.
Braden whipped his head to the side and stared at the bird cage.
Aleen hid a smile behind her coffee mug. She couldn’t deny spending time with him would be great. Not to mention being a bit envious of his hedonistic nature. Her life was so planned and organized, but that was just part of who she was.
He turned back with an eyebrow quirked. “Do they talk?”
“Why? What do you think you heard?”
“Never mind.” He gave the bird cage another long look, then shook his head. “So, you interested in going?”
“I have an appointment.” She shot a glance toward the clock decorated with a Rhode Island Red chicken over the stove. “Oh, I’ve got to get ready.”
“Will your thing take long? Maybe I could tag along, and we could go to the museum afterwards.”
“Well, I’m delivering something to my great-aunt in an assisted-living facility. And I usually stay for a short visit.” An activity that was probably way too sedentary for his tastes. “Maybe I can meet you at—”
“No, I’ll come along. If that’s okay.”
For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. His answer floored her. She couldn’t think of a reason to refuse. “Okay, give me twenty minutes to get myself together.” She set her cup in the sink. “Help yourself to more coffee while you wait.” Then she headed back to the safety of her bedroom, the flapping pajamas against her legs reminding her of what she wore. I carried on a conversation with him in my flannel pjs.
After rushing through her shower and applying the minimum of liner and mascara, she stood in front of her closet debating between a girly mid-calf skirt or more practical jeans. Practicality won out. She tossed on a long-sleeved tee she’d decorated by cross-stitching a big butterfly on the hem. Into a canvas tote went her tennis shoes, a sketch pad, a packet of pencils, the present for her aunt, and a fleece jacket. She dashed down the hallway and stopped short at the sight
of Braden seated at the card table, sifting through her genealogy papers. “Ready.”
“Hmm. Did you get these from the place I recommended?”
“I did and again, I have to express my thanks. The new records will keep me busy for a bit.” She liked how comfortable he looked among her things.
Now, there’s a crazy thought.
Chapter Four
The drive to the Silver Sunsets facility was spent in idle conversation that Aleen wouldn’t have been able to detail if she were asked. Part of her mind was too occupied with noting details about Braden, his truck, and the contents. Like she might gain insight about the man from the ocean charts packed into the door pocket at her side. Or the multiple pairs of sunglasses hooked to both visors. Or the ball caps with Eastern Tides and Thread City Tides logos—teams she’d never heard of.
After he found a parking spot a row away from the entrance, Braden twisted the key and the truck engine stopped. He rested his arm along the back of the seat. “I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself, but I would like to know where you’ll be.”
“Aunt Jean’s room is 211 and is in The Breakers wing. Or I’ll be in the community room, which is between The Breakers and The Elms wings.”
“Ah, using the famous mansion theme in the names.”
“Right.” She rested a hand on the door handle, suddenly unsure about the wisdom of including him in this aspect of her life.
“Wait.” He brushed his fingertips against her shoulder. “At the risk of repeating myself, I would like to get your phone number. Just in case of emergency.”
“Of course.” She dug into the outside pocket of her tote bag and pulled out her cell phone. “I should probably have yours, too.” They swapped phones and entered their details into the other person’s contact list before returning them.
“Okay, I’ll be about thirty minutes.” Aleen opened the door and then turned to face him. “Should I meet you here at the truck?”
Braden grinned and lifted a hand to wave her out. “Don’t sweat it. We’ll find each other.”
Aleen hopped down to the parking lot, closed the truck door, and headed for the entrance. She told herself there was nothing special about Braden driving her here. Logic said Silver Sunsets was on the way to the museum, and sharing the ride had just been for convenience. But she couldn’t deny having him accompany her was a sweet gesture, and she melted just a little.
Today was just another visit to her aunt. The only difference was the oh-so-handsome chauffeur who set her pulse racing. Unable to resist, she looked over her shoulder and spotted him watching through the windshield. Busted. She gave him a little wave and then scurried through the sliding door. Once inside, she fanned her heated face, knowing she had to get herself under control before she reached her aunt’s room. Otherwise, she’d be grilled about the obvious new development in her life.
Nodding to the receptionist, she turned left and walked down the hallway. By the time she reached her aunt, she’d popped her head into several other rooms and waved a cheery hello to her aunt’s friends. At Room 211, she knocked on the already open door. “Morning, Aunt Jean. How are you feeling today?”
“About the same as always.” From the chair by the window, widow Jean Fraser MacRae lifted a gnarled, arthritic hand.
Aleen set her tote on the couch and paused to look at her aunt. Actually, Jean was her father’s aunt and the woman who raised her and her brothers after the divorce. Silver streaked the reddish hair at her temples, disappearing into her bouffant curls. The coral nail polish was fresh, which made her smile. As the person who used to perform the manicures, Aleen knew how much her aunt loved having her nails look their absolute best. “Well, I’ve come bearing gifts.” She reached into the tote and pulled out the garment she’d sewn. “With the cold weather coming on, I made this to keep away the chill.”
“Oh, Aleen. It’s lovely.” Aunt Jean held out her hands. “You’re so good to me.”
Aleen unfolded the quilted jacket, showing it inside and out. “I used a solid fabric on one side and a patterned fabric for the other. There’s a thin batting between, and I added pockets on both sides.” Aunt Jean didn’t complain often, but Aleen knew keeping her hands warm was an issue.
“So thoughtful. Come and give me a hug.”
Aleen leaned over, being careful not to squeeze too hard on her beloved aunt’s thin shoulders.
“Sit, sit. And tell me what’s new.”
Aleen perched on the edge of the other upholstered chair. “Well, work is the same as always. And Tennille is finally talking so I can understand the words. I’m not sure if Captain will ever do more than whistle.”
“Uh huh.” Keen green eyes narrowed and Aunt Jean cocked her head.
Oh great, my aunt’s inquisitor stare. “How did your team fare in the Bridge game this week?”
“Not answering that one. I see a glint in your eyes. Who put it there?”
An image of Braden’s face popped into her mind, and she wondered what he had found to occupy himself. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you can’t fool me—not during your reclusive relocation year or those horrible sass-mouthed teenage years.”
Her aunt knew her too well—she and Uncle Keith had spent more time with her following the divorce than her own father had. “A guy showed up at the Manor who ended up giving me a new source for genealogical records. I’m excited about that.”
“Ah, how goes the search on the Howland line?”
Aleen spent several minutes detailing the new links she’d discovered.
Jean’s gaze flicked from Aleen to the doorway. “Do you have somewhere to be?”
“Why?” Guilt stabbed her conscience. She knew her aunt looked forward to their visits, but thoughts of Braden were distracting Aleen’s attention.
“You’re talking fast and fidgeting. Always a clue of something else going on.”
After taking a deep breath, she leaned forward, hands clasped in her lap. “I have a date this afternoon.”
A smile deepened the wrinkles around Aunt Jean’s eyes. “Well, it’s about time.”
“Really?” That just about makes the vote unanimous. Everyone I know thinks I’m pathetic.
“No need for a wonderful young woman like you to give up on life because of that jerk Ethan. He was an idiot not to notice a true gem when he saw her.”
Her heart warmed at the compliment. Such loyalty.
“So, where is this guy taking you?”
“The Museum of Yachting.”
She let out a short laugh. “You can’t have known him long.” The older woman frowned and leaned forward. “Does he know your sentiments about all things that float?”
“We’ve just met, and haven’t had very many conversations. Besides, he’s a treasure hunter and today is only for fun.”
“I’m glad to hear you use that word. Fun is something you absolutely need.”
Again, a comment highlighting how everyone must have pitied her after her broken engagement. But, they had kept silent and let her work through her issues. “I guess. All I know is he’s always surprising me. And I haven’t experienced that in a while.” Wow, making that admission feels really good.
“Gimme a kiss and go meet up with your young man.”
Normally, Aleen would have come up with various tasks to do to make her aunt more comfortable. But today, she hopped up and did as her aunt bade. As she left the room, she vowed to spend extra time visiting next weekend. Now, to figure out where Braden was. Knowing him, she bet he was outside in the fall day. As she approached the community room, she heard a deep-pitched voice followed by female giggles. Not wanting to intrude, she hesitated at the doorway.
Across the room sat Braden, surrounded by four gray-haired ladies. In his hands was a thin rope that his fingers twisted and pulled into an intricate knot. “That one’s a bowline.”
“I recognize that knot. Don used that when we sailed our sloop.” A thin woman leaned an elbow on the armrest
and watched Braden’s demonstration.
“That’s a handy one. I use it all the time.” He flicked the rope and smoothed it, then his fingers danced over the length again. “And here’s a soft shackle.”
“My Hank used to tie knots in quiet moments.” The woman in the red cardigan dabbed a hanky at the corners of her eyes. “Said it reminded him of his years spent onboard ship.”
Aleen heard the fond yearning in the elderly woman’s voice, and her throat tightened. Intimacy like that—where the little moments were as important as the big events—was what she’d missed most this past year.
“Show us another one.”
Braden looked at the woman on his right. “You’ve been quiet, missy. Do you have a favorite one I can tie?”
Frowning, the woman shook her head. “Jerome wasn’t a sailor, but he was a literature professor.”
He tilted his blond head and grinned. “Did he know ‘Sea Fever’ by John Masefield? That’s one of my favorites.”
“Oh, yes.” Her gray hair bobbed along her chin as she nodded. “And ‘The Sea Spirit’ by Lucy Maud Montgomery.”
“Another good one.” Braden placed a hand over hers and squeezed.
Seeing that gentle gesture made Aleen’s eyes burn. Entertaining the elderly? Knowing specific poems? Yet another side of this complex man was revealed. Before sentimental tears could fall, she stepped into the room and cleared her throat. “Hello, all.”
“There’s my friend.” Braden rose to his feet amid a chorus of protestations.
“Can’t you stay longer?”
“Please come again, young man.”
“I’ve enjoyed chatting with you ladies, but we’re headed to a museum.” In a few long strides, he reached her side, settled his hand at her lower back, and steered her into the hallway. “How was your visit?”
“Isn’t the lucky girl Aleen MacRae, Jean’s niece?” The whispered words followed them from the room.
Hauntings in the Garden, Volume Two Page 3
