Just the Way You Are (A Pleasant Gap Romance Book 1)

by Pepper Basham

  “Someone beautiful, of course.” Her pointed look brooked no argument. “And smart, because, well, that’s kind of a no-brainer. Having lived with a man whose idea of conversation consisted solely of monologues on basketball teams, his fading high school popularity, and the woes of life as a married man, intelligent conversation is vital.”

  Some bloke took a mallet to her confidence. Idiot.

  “Oh, a sense of humor is necessary. It’s almost impossible to face all the hard stuff in life without one, and a gracious heart.” She grimaced and looked back up at him. “Because we all screw up, don’t we?”

  “And need a second chance?”

  She topped off her smile with a nod. “Keep your eyes open, Mr. Movie Star.” She scanned the room and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Your second chance could be anywhere. Even in this room.”

  The edge in his caution dissipated. Precisely.

  “Well, if Christmas is the season of miracles, you’ve renewed my faith in them.” She stepped away from him and smiled through her curtsy. “We both survived my first dance.”

  The music had ended?

  “You seem surprised at your success.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve spent the last eight years of my life with preschoolers as my primary conversational partners. I feel accomplished if I use words with more than two syllables in a sentence and don’t end up with kid stains on my clothes. This is definitely a storybook moment for me.”

  Her look of appreciation fed him to his core. The sweetness in her unpretentious joy poured over his raw soul with a healing touch. Somehow by the light of the Christmas glow, he almost believed in miracles again. Even for a reformed scoundrel.

  Chapter Five

  What an evening! Eisley pried off her shoes and rubbed her sore heels, blinking her focus on the bedside clock. 2:07 a.m. Crazy end to a crazier day. After Wes brought her back to the hotel from the gala, they’d sat in the lobby and talked for two more hours. It had been an oddly easy transition from their fun dance floor banter to a longer conversation. Almost like a friend.

  Which was pretty impossible. But sweet, and encouraging a sort of comforting feeling to settle right around her heart. Of all the possibilities she’d conjured up about her once-in-a-lifetime trip to England, she’d never imagined anything like the past eighteen hours.

  As she unclasped her hair, the weight of it fell around her shoulders, surrounding her with the full potency of rosemary and mint. She threaded her fingers into her aching skull and massaged out the kinks, reliving each scene of her evening with growing morbid clarity. Oh no!

  She sighed back into the folds of the comforter. “I can’t believe I teased him,” she murmured into the blanket and blindly stretched her hand to the nightstand, fumbling for her phone “And I nearly broke his legs. Idiot. Why on earth did I dance with him?” She flipped open her telephone. “His whole family has to think I’m−” She stumbled around in her head, searching for the perfect British word. “Crackers. That’s me. Blooming crackers.” She pressed a pillow up against her chest and listened through three rings. It’s a good thing I’ll never see him again.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hey, honey,” Mom’s voice drew out the words with a syrupy just-woke-up sound. “How are things going?”

  “Oh, wonderful. And horrible.” Eisley buried her face into the pillow and released a moan. “I’ve got to learn to control my tongue. I’d sin a lot less and wouldn’t look nearly as stupid.” She cringed before unloading the full nightmare. “I mentioned the baby roll to Christopher Wesley Harrison, and I nearly lamed him when we danced, and…” Eisley whimpered, remembering. “I asked him to marry me.”

  “What?” Mom burst into laughter. “You’ve been busy for your first day.”

  Busy. Humbled. Completely mortified.

  “You have no idea.” Eisley rolled on her back and stared at the ornate moldings on the ceiling. The entire evening’s events bubbled out of her in humiliating detail. She’d taken her one chance to feel like Cinderella and instead transformed into Lucille Ball…with an Andy Griffith accent. “But he’s nothing like I’d expect him to be. Not arrogant or impersonal.” She cleared her throat. “He’s nice.”

  “Nice?”

  “Yeah, nice.” A vision of his double-dimpled grin flashed to mind. Really nice.

  Silence greeted her from the other end before her mother broke in again. “It sounds like you two spent a lot of time together.”

  The look of tenderness he’d given her while they danced flickered forward. He’d lowered his perfect profile long enough to show off the sweet creamy middle of his personality, and the delicious temptation tickled her hope-bone. Stop. Right. There. “Very weird.”

  “No romance, though?”

  A cackle burst out before she could stop it, probably loud enough to shake the nerves of the Harrisons in the room next door. She caught the rest of her laugh with her hand. “Are you crazy? No way. Not him and definitely not me. It’s impossible.”

  “Eisley,” her mother’s tone held a brief reprimand.

  “Nope. Don’t even go there, Mom.”

  Her mother heaved a sigh, which probably curbed a long diatribe about second chances and happily-ever-afters...two very dangerous things. In fact, she was able to relax around him because he wasn’t a threat. No possibility for mutual attraction, romance, then years of heartache and self-flailing. Any sweet nothings she conjured up in her head were exactly that—nothings, for her imagination to enjoy.

  “When do you leave for Derbyshire?”

  Eisley rolled on her stomach and picked at the corner of a blue satin pillow. “Tomorrow morning. We should arrive there in the evening, after we’ve made a few stops along the way. How are the kids?”

  “Great,” Kay answered. “You haven’t been gone a long time. Emily asked about you last night before bed and the boys make sure to pray for you, but…” She paused and her voice sounded distant. “Eisley, I’m going to have to get off here. Emily just woke up and is…”

  “Naked?”

  “Of course. At some point, you’re going to have to glue that girl’s clothes to her body.”

  A giggle in the background floated through the receiver and clenched Eisley’s heart. She took her wallet from her bag and flipped out the long row of pictures. “They’ll be okay, won’t they, Mom? I mean if you need…”

  “They’re fine. Relax and enjoy yourself. And don’t be afraid to believe the impossible. God specializes in the impossible, you know.”

  Eisley snapped her wallet closed. “Mom, I’m not interested, remember? How much heartbreak do you think I or the kids need?”

  “Your kids are fine, Eisley. The only one having heart issues is you.”

  Eisley bit the inside of her lips to keep from firing off a sarcastic reply. “I love you, Mom. Give Dad and the kids kisses for me.”

  “Love you too, honey.”

  Eisley exhaled a long breath and closed her eyes. Thankfully, one tall, dark and handsome distraction was out of the way so she could place all her focus on Julia Ramsden’s story. Wes had returned to London’s movie scene with auditions or something else with ‘famous’ tagged behind it, and she was free to rewatch his films with a little more 4-D understanding of his smell and touch. Safe and fictional.

  Besides, she was in England for a totally different purpose than distractible dimples and a heart-stopping smile. She had a job to do. A promise to keep. A mystery to solve. Jenkies, she sounded like a script from Scooby Doo.

  Wes’s smile emerged in her mind and she embraced the warmth dancing over her skin at the memory for just a second. Maybe, just maybe, she’d enjoyed a Cinderella moment after all.

  ***

  Eisley yawned and blinked her room into view. Rose Hill Cottage, Derbyshire. The evening darkness had obscured most of the view the night before, but she’d recognized the wonderful lack of street lights as a certain clue she’d entered familiar territory. Country life.

  And country fo
lk were country folk everywhere.

  She swished back the mountain of covers and tiptoed on bare feet to a veiled window, holding her breath for the great ‘reveal’. Heavy layers of cloth peeled back to frame a vast view of green patchwork hillsides swathed in a dawn-hewn blanket of mist and a light sheen of snow. Her smile pulled against her cheeks, nudging a ridiculous giggle. For once, her migraine was worth it. Snow had never looked more beautiful or inviting. A perfect morning for a mystery, and Julia Ramsden’s house was only three miles away.

  She danced a happy jig and scanned her room. It reminded her of home. Overhead beams of dark wood created a ladder effect across the low-lying ceiling and gave the room a rustic feel that belied the elegant furnishings. Wingback chairs covered in embroideries, and even a massive wardrobe decorated with painted vines, added to the enchantment. Embers winked through charred wood from the rock fireplace, sending a whiff of roasted oak. It was perfect.

  With quick work, she jerked her wild mane into a somewhat controlled ponytail and tugged on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. She topped her sleuth ensemble with a ball cap and peeked from her bedroom door, tucked at the end of a small hallway. The dim light of morning gave the hall a vacant look, probably because the Harrisons were still snug in their bed. She hedged past two closed doors and made it to the top of the stairway before a massive creak from the boards underfoot broke the silence. She cringed and shot a glance over her shoulder. No movement. No sounds.

  At the foot of the stairs, the narrow passage opened into a long sitting room. Windows lined the eastern wall and allowed fresh morning light to decorate the oak floors with a golden haze. She followed hot tea’s savory aroma to a wooden door beyond a stone fireplace alive with flames.

  With a careful push, the door opened and ushered her forward into a fresh breath of English Breakfast. Eleanor sat at the table, wrapped in a pink robe, a steaming and dainty cup in her hand.

  “Good morning,” Eisley whispered.

  “I see we share a love for mornings.” Her cup clicked into the dainty saucer. “Did you rest well, duck?”

  The affectionate term tipped Eisley’s grin. “Yes, very.” It was another room of character. Copper pots hung from the exposed beam ceiling, reflecting the pebble-colored walls. Two giant windows bordered the view of a rock-walled garden yielding to a mossy countryside and a distant row of trees. A fireplace stood behind the country breakfast table, blinking with dying flames. “This place is beautiful.”

  “Mother would have been pleased with your compliment.” Eleanor’s focus faded into memories. “Her haven, she called it, and my childhood home. Daniel and I are from two very different worlds.” She blinked back to the present. “Would you care for some coffee?”

  “No, thank you. I don’t want to disturb your reading.” The soft twitter of birds from beyond the window tempted her. “But I’d love to take a walk before breakfast.” She wiggled her brows. “Maybe toward the Ramsden place?” She scanned the kitchen again. “Unless there is something I can do to help?”

  Eleanor chuckled. “Margaret, the housekeeper, will see to it, but all should be prepared within the next hour and a half.” She stood and moved to the counter to pour herself another cup. “I do hope you’ve recovered enough for another busy day.”

  “We’re back in the country. I know country.” Eisley snatched a banana from the counter and peeled it. “Besides, it’s pretty obvious I don’t mesh too well with high-class city girls.”

  “Vivian Barry is a beastly woman.” Eleanor shuddered. “And don’t group all of Vivian’s class into the same lump. She’s of her own mold, my dear. Daniel was born to privilege and opportunity, similar to Vivian, and you can see quite plainly how unaffected he is.”

  Eisley sighed against the counter. “He’s absolutely adorable.”

  “Yes, he is.” Eleanor ducked her head, cheeks rosy and voice soft.

  The admission tossed the typical emotional salad inside Eisley, endearing and heart wrenching, dangling a carrot she wasn’t sure she wanted to snag.

  “And my son is much like his father. He feels things deeply. Cares deeply.” She walked back to the table and placed her cup in its saucer with a frown. “He must keep Vivian around as an obligation to her father, Carl Barry, no doubt. It’s the only logical reason she’s still involved in his life, if logic is involved at all.”

  “She’s drop-dead gorgeous with enough curves to shame a pretzel. Logic has nothing to do with it.” Eisley frowned at the thought of Vicious Vivian. “Besides, she does seem pretty sneaky.”

  “Precisely.” Eleanor offered a pointed look. “And the men in my life appear oblivious.”

  “Don’t they always? The good guys fall for the temptress, and the good girls end up with the jerks.” She waved the half-eaten banana at Eleanor. “See why I prefer fiction? Reality is terrifying and too unfair.”

  Eleanor’s lips quirked just enough to hint at a smile. “And I suppose you are one of the good girls?”

  “Well, I’m certainly not a temptress. I guess if I had any seductive bone in my body, my husband might have stuck around a little while longer.” The familiar weight of failure nudged her shoulders forward. “No, that’s not true.” It feels true, though. “He made his choices too, but my failures seem to sting worse. Maybe it’s because I actually have a conscience.” Eisley slapped her palm over her mouth. “Sorry. I’m trying to stop that.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Saying bad things about Marshall.” Eisley sighed, a pinch of conviction inching to the surface. “It just comes so easily. I remind myself of his bad habits to strengthen my resolve against a second failure.” Eisley worked up a grin and donned her best British accent. “Regret is the perfect tool to ensure my eternal spinsterhood.”

  The woman stared at Eisley for a long moment, blue-green eyes peering deep. “Regret is a poor substitute for love.”

  Love? A second time? Yeah, when Dad shaves his moustache. “Which is another fantastic reason to go in search of Lornegrave Hall this morning.” She tossed the banana peel into the trash and tilted her head toward the door. “It’s a much more positive way to use my energy instead of wallowing in self-pity, right? Besides, I think Julia Ramsden might have her own love story hidden somewhere in all those mysterious years.”

  “You are incorrigible, my dear.” She walked to the back window and Eisley followed. “I will introduce you to Elizabeth Worthing this afternoon, but since you are so excited…” She gestured outside. “See the footpath there, stretching through the wood?”

  A thin path cut a well-worn line from the backyard through a sheep pasture and disappeared into the forest. Excitement quivered up from Eisley’s stomach, squeezing her voice into a higher pitch. “Yes, I see it.”

  “If you follow it through the wood, it will lead to a lovely prospect of Dethicks’ countryside. Should the fog cooperate, you might see Riber Castle. Not a true castle, but impressively situated nonetheless. Lornegrave is nestled near a small pond in the distance between your location and Riber.”

  “Okay.” Eisley shrugged into her coat.

  “Mind the bridge at the bottom of the hill. Some days it freezes and is none too easy to cross.” Eleanor tapped Eisley’s cap. “'Tis a nippy morning. It would be wise to return soon after you reach the view.”

  “Thank you.” Eisley leaned over and kissed Eleanor on the cheek. “You are so sweet.” Eisley rounded Eleanor and opened the back door. “See you in an hour or so.”

  “Eisley, dear.”

  Eisley halted her forward momentum and turned.

  “Perhaps it is time to start seeing your life from the present rather than the past. I believe it would be a lovely view, filled with many more possibilities than regrets.”

  The tingling of tears moved from the bridge of Eisley’s nose into her watery vision…or maybe it was just the chill in the morning air. Yeah, that had to be it, because what Eleanor Harrison spoke of resembled a leap of faith…in heels, and though she had plenty of fai
th in God, he wasn’t the one who made all the wrong choices.

  “Thanks, Mrs. H.”

  Eisley brought the door to a close and turned toward the footpath. Keep her eyes on the present? Her smile spread wide. Perfect. Lornegrave, here I come.

  ***

  Eleanor lowered back into the chair. She touched the cheek Eisley had warmed with a kiss and unleashed a full smile. Eisley Barrett broke any mold Eleanor could have concocted or predicted. Genuine from crooked cap to joyful heart.

  Yet her joy distracted people from noticing a deeper pain which hovered at skin’s depth and haunted soul-deep. But there was no doubt why Daniel took to Lizzie’s preposterous matchmaking scheme. Wes and Eisley fit perfectly—whether they realized it yet or not.

  Providential?

  The notion found a nestling place. Another glimpse out the window afforded her a view of Eisley spinning, arms lifted in the air, while the morning breeze tossed her fury of ginger hair. Eleanor covered her broad smile with her hand, stifling a chuckle.

  She settled back into her chair with her tea and opened the paper. The curious paparazzi wasted no time in featuring a small photo of Wesley and Eisley outside The Darlington House. They stood side by side, waiting for the car, Eleanor next to Daniel, Eisley’s head tilted toward Wes, and Wesley…laughing. How long had it been since she heard her son laugh? Eisley certainly brought it out in him. The caption of the brief article posed the question, A New Romance for His New Roles? and prattled on about whether Eisley was a family friend or a newfound romance.

  Eleanor never became accustomed to her son’s popularity and lack of privacy, but perhaps the paparazzi might get a story right for a change instead of connecting Vivian Barry to her son at every available moment. Almost as if someone handpicked the opportunities.