Kate had missed Mike, but wasn’t ready to admit that to him. The four days he wasn’t in her house had seemed like forever, and those days seemed to blur together. She’d wandered from room to room, looking for something to distract her. Out of desperation she’d actually finished her To Do list. She read three books—all mysteries. Rented two movies—psychological thrillers. Love stories were out of the question. She’d managed to keep her drinking confined to a glass or two of wine after what passed for dinner. Thanksgiving Day she’d called her parents and then eaten a turkey sandwich. And all the while, she had to keep telling herself to stop thinking about Mike, which only served to make her think of him more.
She continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Did Sheryl have to cook a second turkey just for Matt?”
Kate in denial was more stubborn than any mule. “No, but my mom sent us a five-pound box of chocolate-chip cookies. I think I got to eat one,” Mike replied.
They sat in silence, waiting for the light to change. Mike searched for something to say. “Speaking of Matt, you’ve made quite an impression on him. One could even say he was smitten.”
“He’s a walking hormone. What does he know?” Kate said sharply, but she secretly smiled.
“More than you or I think.” Mike turned the truck into the long, curving driveway of a stucco and stone mansion. The front door opened and a slim, elegant woman smiled and gave Mike a small wave as he stepped out of the truck. “The owner,” Mike said under his breath, ushering Kate up the stone path.
Taking his hand in hers, the woman said, “Well, hello, you handsome thing,” in a husky voice laced with generations of Virginians. “And this must be Kate Armstrong?”
“Kate, I’d like you to meet Julia Parrish.”
Kate took the perfectly manicured hand of the stunning blonde. A thick gold bracelet circled a wrist covered in cashmere. The rock of a diamond perched on Julia Parrish’s ring finger cut into Kate’s skin. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Parrish.”
“Oh, please!” The woman smiled warmly, revealing beautiful pearly white teeth. “I haven’t been Mrs. Parrish in several years. Call me Julia.” She took Kate’s arm, leading her inside. “You are a gorgeous thing.” Her voice dropped a notch. “Nothing like the ladies from the Hysterical Society.”
“You’re exaggerating, Julia.” Mike chuckled, following them into the foyer.
Julia Parrish looked over her shoulder. “Well, maybe. But not by much.”
“You have a lovely home,” Kate said, realizing the word “lovely” didn’t begin to cover it.
“Well, thank you, sugar. Let me give you the ten-cent tour. Michael, there’s coffee in the kitchen. You make yourself at home while I get to know your pretty young aide.”
Young? Kate thought. Julia Parrish couldn’t be a day over forty herself.
“Why don’t we start upstairs?” The word came out of Julia’s mouth up-stay-uhs, and Kate hid a smile. She’d always loved hearing the various accents that Virginia spawned and Julia Parrish had one of the most charming.
Kate followed Julia up the sweeping staircase, detecting a subtle hint of a flowery-spicy perfume. She couldn’t name it, but knew it was something very French and very expensive.
When the two women reached the landing on the second floor, Julia turned her silvery-blue eyes on Kate, and they sparkled as she said, “So, tell me the truth, sugar. Is he as good as he looks?”
Kate was so startled by the question that came out of this refined beauty’s mouth, that she was momentarily struck dumb. But Julia was peering at her with eager curiosity, and Kate finally stuttered, “Excuse me?”, thinking maybe she’d misunderstood her.
“Come on, honey. What’s he like in the sack? I’ve been dying to know.”
Oh, God. She’d heard right. The woman’s eyes were actually twinkling. Kate was searching for something to say, when a look of concern came over Julia’s face.
“Oh, Lordy! You mean to tell me you haven’t bedded that gorgeous man?” Then, to herself, “Ole Julia’s put her foot in it again.” She took Kate’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”
Kate wondered if she was sorry for what she’d said, or sorry that Kate hadn’t slept with Mike. A little of both, she suspected, and smiled. “It’s all right. You couldn’t know.”
“I am constantly opening my mouth without thinking.”
“I’ve been accused of the same thing. Don’t apologize.”
Kate liked this woman who reminded her of a Southern Lauren Bacall. It struck her that she hadn’t met anyone new in a very long time, and that she’d been missing out. This was someone she wanted to get to know.
Mike could hear the easy conversation between the two women as they made their way to the back of the house, and he smiled. He stood as they entered through the batwing doors. “Well, I guess it’s safe to leave now?” He spoke to Kate.
Julia watched the two interact with great interest.
“I think so,” Kate answered, taking her briefcase from him.
“What time do you want me to pick you up?”
Kate looked at Julia, then back at Mike. “I’m not sure. Why don’t I call you?”
“Good enough. Julia? Neil Shafer from the foundation said he’ll be dropping by this afternoon to see how the inventory is progressing.”
“That’s fine, Michael. Thank you,” she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Oh, Michael? Did you remember to bring me that article?”
“It’s in the truck. I’ll get it.”
“I’ll save you a trip.” Julia took his arm as they walked out of the kitchen. Over her shoulder she said, “Be right back, sugar.”
As Mike handed Julia the July issue of Historic Preservation, she said, “I’m disappointed, Michael.”
“What about?”
“You didn’t tell me you were in love with her. Now all my hopes are dashed.”
Mike smiled. “I think you and I took it as far as either one of us was willing to go at the time.”
Julia studied his face, then said, “Yes, I suppose the gazebo at Neil’s house wouldn’t have been the best choice.”
Mike chuckled. “It was fun. Right up till the moment his son found someone else in his own personal make-out spot.”
Julia laughed. “The look on his little girlfriend’s face really told the tale, didn’t it? Well, honey, thanks for Kate. It must be hard to part with her.”
One corner of his mouth turned up in a wry smile. “Oh, that it is.” Leaning closer, he gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”
“Me, too, sugar. Hope everything else does.” She winked and turned up the walkway.
Julia was more than a little disappointed. Michael Fitzgerald would have been a pleasant diversion. Okay. Truth be told, he would have been much more than that. But she could see the situation was hopeless. He had that look of a man helplessly in love. What she hadn’t realized until she’d met Kate was that he was suffering with it. A man like that shouldn’t have to suffer.
Kate was eating her way through a mouthwatering crab omelet that Julia had prepared for lunch, the spinach salad that accompanied it long gone. The inventory had progressed only through the living and dining rooms. There were so many treasures in Julia’s collection—and so many fascinating stories behind them—that Kate found herself doing more listening than cataloging.
“Julia, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
“Not at all. My life is an open book.”
“How long have you been divorced?”
Julia arched an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m divorced?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just assumed …”
“I lost Jeffrey five years ago. Heart attack. No warning. He was only forty-six years old. Which, by incredible coincidence, is my age now.”
She’d said it all so matter-of-factly that Kate didn’t know how to react. Everything about this woman was surprising. Kate recovered, and quickly said, “I’m so sorry, Julia.”
“Jesus, Julia. You know what I mean.”
“Of course I do, sugar. And thank you.”
Kate hesitated, then asked, “Were you happy? You and your husband?”
“Very. We had our disagreements, but look who he had to live with.” Julia grinned mischievously. “And we went through a few rough periods. Listen, sugar, do you mind if I smoke? Eating takes away all my resolve.” Kate shook her head and Julia got up to retrieve a pack of cigarettes from a drawer. Lighting one, inhaling deeply, she went on. “But all in all, it was a wonderful ride. Short, but wonderful.”
“How short?”
“Jeffrey died a few months before our sixth anniversary.”
“Only six years …” Kate breathed.
“Took me a long time to find him. And, no, we didn’t have any children.” She watched Kate shut down. Wondered how long it would be before she confided in kind.
Julia Parrish already knew Kate’s story. Not many people in Staunton didn’t. But she wanted to hear it from her own lips. When Mike told Julia it was Kate Armstrong who would be helping out with the inventory, he told her the subject of Paul was very touchy.
Kate was beginning to sense a setup. “Tell me something, Julia. How long have you known Mike?”
Julia’s mouth formed an O and she blew a perfect smoke ring. Then, as if reading Kate’s mind, said, “Don’t worry, honey. He didn’t ask me to talk to you. Staunton’s a small town. Everyone knows everybody else’s business. I just wanted to let you know I’ve been through it. And if you ever want to talk, well, I’ll listen.” Crushing the cigarette into a Wedgwood ashtray, she pushed her chair back. “Think we should get back to work? Wouldn’t want Mr. Shafer to get here and find us with idle hands.”
Mike picked Kate up at four.
“How was it?” he asked.
“Good. It was fun. We didn’t get very far, though.”
“Yeah, Julia’s a talker. What do you think of her?”
“She’s fascinating. I really like her. She’s a beautiful woman.”
“She surely is that,” Mike said, reaching over to adjust the heater.
A small prick of jealousy stung Kate, and she glanced at Mike. But his face was unreadable and on the ride home she asked about the work he’d done on the house instead of the question she really wanted him to answer.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
“Looks like snow, sugar. Better pack it in for the day.”
Julia Parrish stood at the library window, the smoke from her cigarette hovering over her head like a miniature wraith. Kate didn’t look up from the Rozenburg vase she was examining, too wrapped up in her work to hear Julia’s statement.
“Where and when?” Kate asked, holding up the delicate piece of porcelain.
“Here and today.”
Kate finally raised her head. “Huh?”
Julia smiled. “Snow. Today. We’d better quit now, or you’ll get caught in it.”
Kate joined Julia at the window just in time to see the first fat flakes drift down.
“Any plans for the weekend?” Julia asked as they walked to the front door.
“Nothing special. With this snow I’ll be stuck inside anyway. You?”
“An old friend of the family is driving down from DC to keep me company.” She peered outside. “I hope he got away before it started coming down.”
“What did you have planned?” Kate asked, envisioning a white-haired gentleman arriving with his Lincoln Town Car and walker.
“Why, nonstop sex, honey. And I’ll be an absolute bear if he doesn’t show up.” She grinned wickedly. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
Kate recovered from the initial shock and then, in her usual fashion, bluntly asked, “How do you do it?”
Julia lifted her eyes to the ceiling in thought, then answered, “In my experience, about thirty-six different ways.”
“Come on, Julia. You know what I mean. Don’t you think about Jeffrey?”
“Of course I do, sweetie. But I’m alive and he’s dead. Can’t fuck a ghost.” Julia smiled into Kate’s sad eyes. “Now, you scoot. And say hello to that handsome neighbor of yours.”
Everyone else in town had decided to leave work early due to the impending storm, and it took Kate much longer than usual to get home. She impatiently sat in the long line of cars waiting to get through the last traffic light on her route. What was the holdup? Rolling down the window, she stuck her head out to see, but was blinded by the blowing snow. A group of young women from Mary Baldwin College walked by, laughing, holding their faces up to the snow. Now she understood. It was Friday and the students were leaving town for the weekend. She was truly out of touch with the real world.
Kate, and the rest of the commuters, inched along. Sitting through three red lights gave her too much time to think. The week had gone by quickly, and at the rate she and Julia were going, they wouldn’t be done for at least another five days. But Kate was enjoying the work so much, she hated for it to end. Maybe it was time to ease her way back into the shop. A couple of days a week, just to spell Cindy. Maybe.
And there was Mike. She had seen him only once after that Monday that he drove her to Julia’s because she always arrived home after he and Matt had finished for the day. The progress they were making was astounding. Soon they’d be finished, too. This fact unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
Green light at last. She nosed her car into the left turn and was soon making the right up the steep hill that was High Street. The tires lost traction halfway up the street that was now completely white with snow, and Kate gave up in frustration. She let the car roll back to the curb, got out, and walked the remaining two hundred feet to her house.
The fresh snow squeaked under her shoes, the only sound in the neighborhood. It was colder than she thought, and Kate was glad she didn’t have far to go. The wind buffeted her, and she leaned into it. The flakes of snow had turned hard and dry, a sure sign of major accumulation, and they stung her face as she turned up her walkway.
Matt’s car was gone, even though it was only two-thirty, and she guessed that Mike had sent him home. She assumed Mike had finished for the day as well. A gust of wind caught the door, slamming it behind her. Kate winced as the glass rattled, and she shrugged out of her coat.
“Well, hello there. I was just thinking about coming after you.” Mike stood at the head of the stairs, resting his weight on the banister.
“Well, hello there, yourself.” She smiled up at him, genuinely pleased to see that he was still there.
“Where’s your car?” he asked, coming down to stand in front of her. Snow glistened in her hair and eyelashes, her cheeks were flushed from the cold. As she answered him, he brushed away a few flakes from her forehead. It was an uncalculated gesture. He couldn’t help himself. She looked lovely. His hand dropped back to his side and he said, “I’ll get out of your way. I was just leaving anyway.”
Mike reached around her to pull his jacket off the hall tree. He was inches from her. Kate tried to think of something to say to keep him there a few moments longer. She lamely said, “Julia says hello.”
He was putting the jacket on now. “Give her my regards.”
Come on, Kate. He’s practically out the door.
“Any dinner plans?” she asked his back.
Mike hesitated, then turned. “Not really. Why?”
He wasn’t making this easy.
“I don’t know. I thought maybe between the two of us, we could come up with something. I could make a salad. Fry up a little Spam. Or whatever it is you do with that stuff …”
There it was. A small Fitzgerald smile.
“In other words, you want me to cook dinner for you,” Mike said.
“Well, thanks! Now that you mention it, I would.”
Mike rubbed his forehead and squinted at her. “I know I’m gonna be sorry I asked, but, how about my place?�
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“Now why would you be sorry?” she asked innocently. “So. It’s settled? I’ll bring the salad, and you work your magic in the kitchen. I’ll even try to dig up the Scrabble board. It’s a good night for it, don’t you think?” She was positively beaming.
Mike peered at her. “Who are you? And what have you done with the real Kate Armstrong?”
She ignored him, and asked, “What time do you want me?”
A chuckle escaped his throat, and he shook his head, amused at her choice of words. “Anytime, Kate. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Okay, I’ll get out my cross-country skis and see you in a couple of hours.”
• • •
Mike had just peeled and diced the last potato when he heard Kate banging on his back door.
“Open up! I’m freezing my ass off out here.”
She trundled in, her arms loaded with a salad bowl and the promised Scrabble game. Rescuing the glass bowl as it began to slide off the box, he glanced outside and saw that a good two inches of snow had accumulated, and it was still coming down.
“You always did know how to make an entrance. Make yourself at home.”
She sniffed as she started peeling off layers of clothing, saying, “Smells good. What is it?”
“Beef stew. It’ll be ready in about half an hour.” He slid the potatoes into the pot, then began cutting the carrots.
Kate perched on a stool and pulled off her boots, watching him work. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Can’t program my VCR.” The carrots went into the stew, and he turned to her, still holding the wooden spoon.
Kate grinned. Was it just her? Or was there something incredibly endearing about a man who could clean the carburetor in his car, put a new roof on a house, and throw together a great dinner? She heard a buzzing noise. “What’s that?”
“The dryer.”
“You do your own laundry?”
“Well, hell, Kate. Who do you think’s gonna do it? The laundry fairy?”
She followed him down the basement stairs and watched as he pulled a load of jeans out of the dryer and began folding them. “Paul never did anything around the house.”
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