“Personally I don’t know how you do it.”
Andrew’s voice pulled her gaze to him. The look of admiration on his face sent her heart beating rapidly. He smiled at her, a gesture that suddenly seemed to wipe everything from her mind but him.
“I’ve seen you with your students, and you’re amazing. If their opinion counts for anything, you’ll win hands down.”
“I agree, Andrew,” her mother said. “She devotes a lot of time to her students.”
Sadie glowed under their praise, trying to dismiss the fact that her father said nothing. She knew he thought she wasted her time working with students with special needs. She didn’t think she would ever be able to change his mind. Where she saw loving, giving students who had every right to a full, productive life, her father saw students who would never be complete, contributing members of society.
“I don’t care who wins in January. It is an honor to have my daughter representing the high school. Andrew, would you like any more dressing?” Her mother held up the bowl.
He shook his head. “I’m stuffed. This was delicious, Mrs. Spencer.”
“Oh, please call me Abby, and I didn’t do much. Sadie was up at five this morning getting the turkey ready to go into the oven. I mostly watched this time. It was nice. I don’t get to do that often. This was certainly a treat.”
Suddenly silence blanketed the room, each person intent on moving food around on the plate. Sadie searched her mind for a safe topic that would put an end to the discomfort at the table. Her mind went blank.
“Dr. Spencer, I understand you write books. Are you working on one right now?” Andrew asked.
In that moment Sadie could have kissed him. Her father’s favorite subject was the books he wrote. She forced herself to eat a bite of dressing, waiting to see what her father would reply.
“I’m nearly finished with a biography of Prince Albert. I’ve spent more time on him than I usually do. I wanted to do justice to the man behind the throne.” Her father launched into a discussion about how much influence and power Prince Albert had as the husband of Queen Victoria.
Sadie breathed deeply the rich aromas of the foods about her and relaxed in her chair. With Andrew asking pertinent questions the conversation flowed between him and her father as though this were a normal dinner, not one rife with tension. She observed the ease with which Andrew conversed with her father, the great detail of knowledge he had in a field where her father was an expert.
When there was a lull in the conversation, Sadie rose. “Would anyone like a piece of pecan pie with vanilla ice cream?”
Andrew chuckled. “This from a woman who prides herself on eating well-balanced meals.”
“I never said I didn’t indulge in tempting desserts from time to time. Remember all those things I bake. Not all of them are oat bran muffins.”
“Come to think of it, not many were.”
“Have you been invited yet to one of her parties when she empties out her freezer?” Her mother stood, too, and started gathering dishes.
“Not yet, but she has promised to invite me to the next one.”
The twinkle in Andrew’s eyes melted Sadie’s tension completely. “Okay, I don’t normally plan one of these parties more than a day in advance, but how about this Saturday night? I need to clear the freezer out. Christmas is just around the corner.”
“You’re on.”
“I’ve seen what’s in her freezer. You’re in for a treat.”
“Mom. Dad. Do you want to join us?” Sadie stacked the plates to carry into the kitchen.
“Oh, no, dear. Your dad and I have the Henderson party to go to.”
Her father’s eyes widened. “I thought you said you couldn’t make—”
“I’ve changed my mind. If we’re going to work out our problems, we’ll need to spend some time together.” Her mother marched into the kitchen with her hands full of dirty dishes.
“Any pie?” Sadie asked, realizing her mother’s real motive.
Andrew scooted back his chair. “I need to walk some of this delicious food off before I indulge.”
Her mother entered the dining room. “Andrew, that’s a good idea. Why don’t you two go for a walk while your father and I clean up? That’s the least we can do, since you prepared the dinner.”
Her father’s eyes grew rounder. He rarely stepped into the kitchen unless it was to eat, certainly never to clean up. Sadie decided to take her mother up on her offer.
“Yes, I think I will.” Sadie hurried into the kitchen and put her stack of dishes on the counter.
When she came into the dining room, she noticed an uneasy silence had fallen again. She grabbed Andrew’s hand and started for the front door, snatching a sweater as she left.
Outside she paused on her porch and drew in deep breaths of the cool fall air, perfumed with the scent of burning wood. The sky was cobalt blue with not a cloud anywhere. She tilted her face to the sun and relished its warm rays.
“I doubt you’ve ever had a Thanks giving like this one,” she said when she felt Andrew’s probing gaze on her.
“No, but then I don’t usually spend Thanksgiving with a family.”
“Not Darrell and Ruth’s?”
“When I can get away for a couple of days.”
“Which isn’t that often.”
“Not in the past few years.” Andrew began walking.
Sadie fell into step next to him, and his strides shortened to accommodate her. “I’m sorry. My father can be difficult at times.”
Andrew slid a smile toward her. “Actually I enjoyed our conversation about Prince Albert. As I said, I like history.”
“Then you and my dad have something in common.”
“You don’t like history?”
“Well, yes, I do.”
“Then you and I have something in common.”
The idea they had more things in common than she thought nonplussed her, causing her step to slow. Andrew went a few feet in front of her, stopped and turned toward her.
“Is that so hard to imagine, Sadie?”
“That we have things in common? No, I guess not. It’s just that you and I live our lives so differently.”
“Do we?” He held his hand out for her to take. “I think we live our lives very much the same—all or nothing. I’ve seen you with your students, and you throw yourself completely into it.”
The warmth of his fingers on hers was like the rays of the sun on her face. She savored the feel, realizing somewhere that day she had given up the notion that they were just friends. It was more than that, at least on her part, and that thought scared her more than a confrontation with her father.
They continued their walk, their hands linked. Andrew steered them toward the park.
“If you’re going to be a good teacher, you have to give a part of yourself to your students.”
“And if I’m going to be a good executive, I have to give a part of myself to the job and the people who work for me.”
“But I can draw the line between work and pleasure.”
Andrew took a few more steps without saying a word, then he said, “Tell me about your relationship with your father.”
She shrugged. “What’s there to tell? You saw how we are close up and personal.”
“Has it always been strained?”
Sadie thought over her childhood. There was a time when things had been different. She halted in the middle of the path. “No. Everything changed when Bobby died.” Why hadn’t she seen that before?
“Who’s Bobby?”
“My baby brother. He was three and I was nine. He died of a massive infection that had started out as a spider bite.”
He came to her, grasping both her hands. His scent chased away all others. “I’m sorry we have that in common. Losing a sibling is so hard.”
“But until this moment I never thought about Dad changing. He was always demanding, but loving and caring, usually. After Bobby’s death he got worse, never satisfied
with anything I did. It was never good enough for him. I always felt I had let him down, that I wasn’t the son he had wanted.”
“Maybe he’s scared.”
“Dad?”
“Yes. When you lose someone close to you, sometimes you shut down, afraid to feel anything for anyone.”
“Is that experience talking?”
He ignored her question and began walking again, his pace faster. She started to pursue the question, but the firm set to his jaw proclaimed the subject was off-limits. She clamped her mouth shut. She didn’t need him to say yes. She had seen the truth in his eyes before he masked his expression. His feelings shut down the day he lost his family, and Tom’s death only cemented Andrew’s determination not to care for another. When he was young, all the people he loved had died. How could she combat that?
Chapter Nine
“Everyone, I want you to meet Andrew, my knight in shining armor,” Sadie announced to the group of friends sitting in her living room.
“Okay, you have managed to embarrass me,” Andrew whispered in her ear.
“But it is true,” she said with a laugh, trying to ignore his breath tickling her neck. “You’ve saved my work program. I’ve already recruited another business because IFI is participating.”
“I know it hasn’t been quite two weeks, but Chris seems to be doing a good job. He’s got his route down for the mail run. He always has a smile for everyone. When he comes into my office, he usually stops to say hello if I’m not busy with someone.”
“Good. He does brighten a person’s day.” She swept her arm in a wide arc. “Mingle. I’ll let everyone tell you their names. I still have a few more things to put on trays so I can bring them in.”
“Need any help?”
“Oh, no. I’m not gonna let you hide out in the kitchen.”
“Madam, I never hide out. I was trying to fulfill the role of knight in shining armor and help.” The corners of his mouth twitched.
“Sure, Andrew. These are just a few of my friends from school.” She gently shoved him toward the group of eight people who were seated in the living room.
“You are cruel, Sadie Spencer.”
The laughter in his voice contradicted his words. She gave him a little wave, then headed for the kitchen. She quickly finished preparing the trays and took the first one into the living room, halfway expecting to see Andrew off to the side by himself. Instead, she found him in the middle of the group, laughing at something Sally said. Then Carol made a comment that set everyone off.
“I hope you all have worked up an appetite. I have lots of food to get rid of.” Sadie placed the tray on the coffee table and started for the kitchen.
“I’m not sure it’s a good thing when a cook announces she must get rid of food,” Andrew said, relaxing in the easy chair.
At the door into the kitchen, Sadie said, “Dig in at your own peril. Be back in a sec with more goodies.” She heard people moving, and someone sighing with pleasure as he tasted one of her chocolate chip cookies.
She picked up another tray and headed for the door. It swung open. Andrew entered, finishing a brownie.
“I thought the least I could do was help you carry the trays to the living room. This brownie is to die for.”
Sadie beamed. “Thanks—I think.”
With Andrew’s assistance the food was set up on the coffee and end tables so everyone could munch while talking. When Andrew tried to have Sadie sit in the easy chair he’d occupied, she shook her head and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of it.
“Okay, what game do you have for us this time?” Carol asked, taking a sticky bun from a plate.
“Truth or dare?” Sadie waved away the platter of assorted cookies making its rounds.
Sally and Ted groaned.
“How about Trivial Pursuit?” Nathan suggested.
“I’m brain dead. Besides, I got creamed the last time we played.” Carol tore off a piece of the sticky bun and popped it into her mouth.
Ted laughed. “You always say that.”
“I refuse to remember trivial facts. They clutter up my mind.” Carol pointed a finger at Ted. “And not a word from you about that last comment.”
Sadie held up her hand. “I guess as usual I’ll have to settle this lively debate. We’re gonna play charades. We haven’t played that in a long time. The guys against the gals.”
“Yes! We’re gonna cream you,” Joyce said to Ted.
Andrew leaned down and whispered into Sadie’s ear, “We could just talk.”
She shook her head. “You saw the debate about what game to play. You ought to see some of our discussions. Not a pretty sight. This is much safer.”
“Did I hear the word safe?” Sally’s husband, Mason, reached for another piece of fudge. “Sadie, if you think playing charades will be safe, you’ve got another think coming. Remember the reason we haven’t played it in a long time. The gals cheat.”
“We do not!” All of them spoke at the same time.
“We haven’t played because you guys are sore losers.” Sadie rose and went to a cabinet to retrieve the bag of choices. “And since we won last time, we get to pick which category.” She produced a red cloth bag. “Movies it is.”
When she sat down next to Andrew, he moved forward on the edge of his chair. “What if we haven’t seen a movie in years, have no idea what is current?”
“No problem. Most of these are oldies. Late night TV fare.”
“Worse. I don’t watch TV unless it has something to do with the food industry. I don’t even own one.”
Sadie’s attention was riveted to him. “You’re kidding. You don’t watch any shows.”
“Nope. Don’t have the time to watch.”
“You do work a lot.” He really did have this work thing bad, Sadie realized. She patted his arm. “Well, do the best you can.”
“I think you’re gloating, Sadie Spencer. I have to tell you I am a fierce competitor. That should make up for my lack of knowledge.”
The glitter in his eyes could only be described as predatory. She shivered. “So am I.”
“Then may the best man win.”
“You mean woman.”
Andrew winked. “We’ll see.”
An hour later half the food was gone and the score for charades was tied. Sadie and Andrew were the last ones. They were seated across the room from each other. Sadie eyed Andrew in the middle of the group of men and decided she’d created a monster. He’d immersed himself in the game with relish, and even though he hadn’t watched many movies, he had come up with a surprising number of right answers.
Sadie shoved her hand into the red bag and drew her selection. She read it and wanted to moan. Zulu. Mason flipped the egg timer over, giving her one minute to think of what she would do. What in the world was Zulu? A war movie? How was she going to act this one out?
“Time’s up,” Andrew announced with more glee than he should.
Since everyone knew it was a movie, she held up one finger to indicate one word, then she motioned how many syllables and that she was giving them the first one. Hunching over, she made her arms swing back and forth like a trunk on an elephant—at least that was what she hoped it looked like.
“Hunchback of Notre Dame,” Sally shouted.
“Yeah, that’s one word with two syllables,” Mason said.
“No comments from the peanut gallery.” Carol moved closer to Sadie, as though that would enlighten her.
Sadie decided to portray another animal. She got down on all fours and acted like she was roaring—silently, of course, because the men would have declared foul for saying something. Surely she looked regal as she pranced as though she were the king of the jungle.
Joyce jumped up. “Cat.”
Sadie lumbered to her feet to encourage Joyce to expand her answer.
“Tiger. Jaguar. Lion.”
Sadie spread her arms wide as though to take in everything.
“Lion King,” Carol said.
Ted chuckled. “Two syllables, not two words.”
Another animal. Sadie began leaping around the area, pounding on her chest and scratching her sides.
“Ape,” Sally yelled.
Sadie nodded.
“Ape-man?”
“Is that supposed to be a movie?” Nathan asked, a smug expression on his face. “I thought you might say Planet of the Apes.”
Joyce flashed her husband a too sweet smile. “Can’t. That’s more than one word. Can’t you count?”
Mason whistled. “I think she got you there, Nathan.”
Before the whole thing fell apart, Sadie quickly went to the second syllable, noticing that over half her time was gone. She pantomimed washing her hands.
“Clean. Dirty.”
“Eat.”
Sadie continued with putting on makeup.
“Face.”
“Beauty.”
She tried brushing her hair.
“Bathroom.”
Sadie waved her hand to get Sally to say more.
“Restroom? Women? Men?”
The timer went off. Sadie’s shoulder slumped and she plopped down on the couch. “Zulu.”
“Zulu?” Carol wrinkled her brow. “I guess the first was animals for zoo, but what was the last part?”
“Loo is the British word for restroom.”
Sally rolled her eyes.
“I was desperate,” Sadie said in her defense.
Andrew stood and dug into the bag for his selection. “If we win this, we win it all.” He looked at his slip of paper and smiled, then handed it to Sadie.
Battle of the Bulge. Okay, the gals might still have a chance—if the sun rose in the west. She passed the paper down the row of women, hearing the groans as it made its way to the end.
After disclosing how many words in the title, Andrew launched in with the first one. He punched the air.
“Fight.” Mason waved his hand. “I know. Fight at Okay Corral.”
“At least my husband can count.”
“No, he can’t. The title is Gunfight at the O.K. Corral. That certainly is more than four words.” Joyce crossed her legs and brushed imaginary lint from her jeans.
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