She marched back toward her room. On the way she saw him backing out of a different room, saying, “Good night then, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning. Sweet dreams. Yes, I’m glad you’re finally here, too. Yes, everything went fine. Night night.”
She waited until he was further down the hall, then called him.
“Mr. Lassiter.” She heard the frozen fury in her own tone.
He spun around, his face lit with pleasure. “Hey,” he said.
“Mr. Lassiter, I think I’ve been led here under false pretenses.”
“It’s Simon,” he said, looking slightly hurt. “And what are you talking about?”
“Mr. Lassiter,” she said, and faltered slightly at his dark expression, “I heard what you said to Lilah just now. ‘Everything went fine.’ By that, do you mean the plan went fine?”
“What plan?” he asked.
“The plan. The plan wherein you arranged for your daughter to leave home, bought her a plane ticket, arranged for a girl in Chicago to come out to see you for a job interview, thereby assuring a seatmate for your little one, and then having a built-in tutor when you went on the run with her.”
“What?”
“It didn’t make sense to me before, but it does now. I mean, the weird coincidence, and the fact that you were vague about my student, and that your surprise didn’t last long over the phone, and the fact that Lilah had an awful lot of confidence for a tiny girl alone, and the fact that I never asked you, Mr. Lassiter—who is it that I am supposed to tutor?”
“You have no idea—”
“No! I have no idea what’s going on around here, or at least I didn’t! My God, this poor little girl is going to be on the back of a milk carton soon enough, and how do you think you can keep her away? I mean, have you thought about the realities of this thing? Why were you so mysterious over the phone? Why couldn’t you tell me who I’d be teaching? Because it was your daughter? Because I was supposed to be part of some, some, conspiracy? What are you laughing at?”
Simon wiped at his eyes. “God, I’m sorry, it’s been a long day with a lot of surprises. And you are just too cute when you’re angry. Like a kitten hissing at a Doberman. Say that part again about the milk carton.” He started laughing again, until tears were running down his cheeks.
“This isn’t funny,” she said, feeling suddenly stupid, standing there in the dim hall and facing a madman.
A gentle voice behind her said, “Love, maybe I can help. It’s me Simon was makin’ the appointment for. It’s me he hired you for. I’m the one you’re teachin,’ if you can believe it. I want to learn to read.” A white haired man, still handsome, shorter than Simon but far more courtly, held out his hand. “Pat Lassiter,” he said.
“My father, Miss James,” Simon said.
She had blown it. That was all she could think of as she walked back to the café with the two men. She felt like a prisoner being escorted to a cell. Simon still looked mildly amused by her wild accusation, but underneath that she saw a new coolness, and perhaps hurt. He’d told her he felt an instinctive attraction to her, and she’d felt it, too. Now she’d insulted him. She’d been here for all of two hours, and she’d alienated the man who had brought her all this way.
And her student, if she could believe it, was a grown man, an illiterate man who was handsome and charming, and was even now sending sympathetic glances her way, she could see it from the corner of her eye, but she kept her gaze planted firmly on the floor. She was sure that she was still blushing with mortification.
They entered the café, Simon ordered coffee for them all, and they sat down together at a table. She made an attempt to maintain a businesslike demeanor. Never mind that she’d already made out with and rudely yelled at her new boss. She would focus on Pat Lassiter, the sweet and handsome man who now put his hand over hers.
“Please, tell me about it,” she said to him.
Chapter Five
Simon felt a stab of guilt as he watched Veronica try to get her bearings, watched her sit with her impeccable straight posture and keep her eyes upon his father so that, apparently, she wouldn’t have to look at him, Simon. The poor girl. He’d dragged her here under mysterious circumstances, inadvertently involved her in a family crisis, kissed the living daylights out of her before the introductions were even completed, and then treated her sarcastically when she’d questioned the whole arrangement. She’d been a bit childish about it, but since he’d been acting like a fourteen-year-old with his first hard on, he figured he could cut her some slack.
She, however, seemed unable to forgive herself. Her deep blush hadn’t faded, and it gave her skin the look of rose petals. She had mumbled an apology, back in the hall, when he’d walked past her, and he’d said, “Think nothing of it,” but he knew that she was humiliated by the entire evening. He wasn’t proud of it, but if given a chance to take back that kiss, he wouldn’t do it. He relived it briefly in his mind as he heard his father begin to talk.
“I’m a farm boy from way back. My father came here from Ireland, met my mother. Then the two of them settled in Illinois, on a little farm. You have to understand, it was a little town, and farms, even then, were hard to keep up. My parents needed me. I worked from dawn to dusk, most days, me and my brothers, and I’ve always said, I still say, it was a wonderful life. I was strong, I was well-fed, I had color from the sun, I had muscles. I was with my brothers all day, and we were close. Close as a family can be. My brothers all moved on to other careers, so when I was a man the farm became mine, and Simon and his sisters were raised on it.”
Simon saw her gaze flick to him, and then skitter away as though he’d burned her. His dad continued. “A couple of my older brothers taught themselves. Would have taught me, too, if I’d let them. I was that proud, I didn’t see the need; never made the time. It’s hard to believe, but it’s true.” He shrugged and twinkled at Veronica from his blue eyes. “I’m a stubborn man, and I became so good at not looking like a boy who couldn’t read and write, no one ever suspected. I knew some things. I can write my name, some words. I can read a little word here and there.” He tapped a beat on the cafeteria table, a bit nervous, Simon thought.
“Later it was easy enough to fool my wife. We lived on a farm, we worked. But if she wanted me to read something, I’d say, “You read it to me, love, I get headaches reading.” I had all sorts of excuses; I’m a born storyteller. Learned it from my father. He had a tongue that could charm a snake. And my wife loved to read to me. It was our special way of spending time.”
He rubbed his eyes briefly, and Simon noted that her hand went over his. “Your wife is—”
“She passed last year. Her heart.”
“I’m so sorry. She sounds wonderful.”
“She was. Anyway, she didn’t suspect about me, I don’t think. But when they got into their teens, my children did. They always knew, I suppose. My shameful little secret. My daughters said they would teach me, but I knew I wouldn’t have the patience for my own blood to do it. Then the girls went off to their boys and careers, and then Simon went off to school. And I stayed on my farm, and the paltry little income I made from it.”
“You were a great father; I can tell from your son.” She didn’t look at Simon as she said this, but he studied her. The blush was disappearing, and she was regaining her dignified look. She probably used that line all the time in parent teacher conferences, he thought suspiciously.
“My son is a good lad. He finally told me, once I settled here, that he was hiring someone. I said I didn’t want anyone from these parts. No rumors spreading about old Pat and his illiterate brain. So Simon said he’d put it online, pick someone from far away. You were the first person who applied, actually.”
“I . . . see.” Simon saw her thinking about this. What went on in that woman’s mind? he wondered. He knew she was sharp; look at the intricate scenario she’d dreamed up when
she thought he was a daughter-stealing villain. What must she be thinking now?
“May I call you Pat?” she asked.
“Of course, Love.”
“Pat, I’d love to be your teacher. I know just where we’ll begin, and we’ll begin in the morning, if you’re willing. Right after breakfast. When do you normally dine?”
“Six o’clock.”
Her face was priceless, Simon thought. So expressive, in this case, of dismay.
“Oh, God, I forgot I was dealing with a farmer. Well, maybe at nine? I think I can manage that, considering it’s getting close to midnight, and my coach is about to turn back into a pumpkin.”
“That’s fine, love.”
Veronica smiled, and pushed back her chair.
Simon stood. “Let me walk you back to your room. Good night, Dad.”
Again he caught that amused glimmer in his father’s eye. Glad I could cheer you up, old man, he thought with a flash of anger. “Night, Son; Night Veronica,” his father said, stirring his coffee.
Simon thought she looked a bit reluctant to walk with him, but he felt better when she said, “I’m sorry. I was totally out of line, and totally wrong. Please let’s just assume it’s jet lag, or new job jitters, or exhaustion, or something to explain away why I was so stupid.” She looked quite wretched now, and he felt a pang of sympathy.
“Veronica, it’s forgiven. It was a weird situation, and to be honest with you, no, I didn’t plan Lilah’s escape, but now that she’s here—I don’t see why she can’t stay a while. I’ll pay you more, and I can have you home school her until the fall. If you’re willing. Her mother is getting married; I’m sure I can talk her into it. At least, I hope I can—”
“Simon, this is none of my business.”
“It’s your business if I ask you to devote your life to teaching my daughter and my father.”
“If it turns out that you can keep Lilah with you, then I would be happy to teach her. I like her very much.”
They had reached her door. He’d been trying to walk slowly, to make it last, but here they were. He had to say something, had to make her understand. “Veronica, about that kiss.”
Her head came up, her brown eyes widened. She looked half fearful, half—what? Excited?
“Yes?”
“I know it was rude and boorish. But I don’t want to apologize for it. It was a great kiss, and I actually plan to kiss you a lot more, if you’ll let me.” He reached out to put a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her earlobes were pink, and she wore tiny rhinestone studs in them.
“Simon.” She smiled, shook her head. “This is very confusing to me. I’ve
never—”
”Neither have I! I’ve never acted that way in my life, I swear.” He held up his hand like a boy scout making the pledge.
“I don’t hold it against you. I—liked it, too. But you’re my employer, and what would you think of me if I simply let myself go? I have to be professional here.”
“We’ll sleep on it.”
“Yes, let’s do that.” She smiled at him, full on, and it was like a laser beam.
“Can I kiss you goodnight?” he asked, before he knew what he was doing.
“Simon—” she protested, but he had leaned in already, slipped his hands into her silky hair, and pulled her closer.
She didn’t stop him. Her lips were already parted when they reached his, and he was amazed to find that she was taking charge, putting her hands behind his head, pulling it down to hers, flicking her tongue against his mouth.
He moaned in surprise and pleasure, felt her hands running down his back and up to his neck, felt the pressure of those full, beautiful, kissable lips. And then she was gone. He opened his eyes to find her unlocking her door, and then she turned for one quick smile. “Good night, Simon.”
She shut him out before he could say another word, before he could try to touch her again.
At Burlington airport a plane landed, and a man disembarked with the other passengers. In his bag he had a return ticket for two, a few changes of clothing, and a picture of Veronica James.
Chapter Six
Lilah had never been happier. She sat in the café of her dad’s inn—her inn, too, he’d told her—and ate a sweet roll with a glass of chocolate milk. She’d already played checkers with Grandpa, made friends with a cat named General who lived outside by the shed, and gotten a big good morning kiss from her daddy before he went to his office to deal with the morning mail. Daddy had asked her what would she think of staying for a while, and that’s when the feeling of joy had started to grow inside her.
Now, as she smugly contemplated her future, she watched Veronica James enter the room. She looked as pretty as she had on the plane. Veronica had explained to her in the car on the way here how she had been on her way to an interview at the inn, and she’d said it was lucky that they found each other. Lilah thought it was very lucky, and she watched Veronica, clad in a wool skirt and matching sweater and the same boots as yesterday, make her way to Grandpa’s table. The two of them were talking and laughing, and Veronica sat down with him, showing him a book she had with her.
Lilah spotted her dad before Veronica did. He made his way to Grandpa’s table, too, after waving at Lilah, and she saw Veronica look up and turn red. Then it seemed like Veronica wouldn’t look at her dad while he talked to Grandpa. Finally Daddy was talking to her, and she looked up at him, and Lilah was stunned to see the truth. Veronica liked her dad. She’d watched enough soap operas with Bindy to know when a woman was madly in love with a man. And if she didn’t miss her guess, her father was madly in love, too. Lilah didn’t realize it could happen that fast. Her father was being kind of weird, raising his eyebrows a lot while he talked and playing with a napkin that he’d taken from Grandpa’s table. Grandpa was watching them, but then he caught Lilah’s eye and winked at her. Lilah winked back, grinning. Now that she saw this, she had another plan to work on.
She’d enjoyed her little escape plan, and it had worked perfectly. This would be a greater challenge. She was going to get Veronica to marry her father. Mommy had already said she wouldn’t give Lilah any more brothers and sisters, but Veronica would. She was a teacher, and she loved children. She’d told Lilah so, on the plane. Lilah knew firsthand how sweet she could be, and how she actually enjoyed the company of children, didn’t just put up with them until something better came along. She was pretty, and nice, and perfect for her dad.
Lilah pulled a pen out of her velvet purse and began to jot some ideas on a napkin. In her mind, she could already see herself pushing a carriage with her baby sister in it. In this part of the world, she’d have to wrap the baby warmly.
At the other table, Simon finished his gardening discussion with his father, and couldn’t think of any other reason to keep him at their work station. “Well, I’ll say hello to my daughter and get back to work, then,” he said reluctantly. “Veronica, if I could see you in my office when you’re finished, I have those forms for you.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” she replied smoothly, meeting his gaze with wide-eyed innocence.
You weren’t so innocent last night, he thought darkly as he walked away, when your pink little tongue was darting into my mouth and your nails were digging into my back. God, what had he gotten himself into?
He stopped at Lilah’s table, where she seemed not entirely pleased to see him. She was hiding something that she was drawing on, a little napkin or something, and she seemed to be waiting patiently for him to go away. Was every woman in this place avoiding him? Simon thinned his lips at the thought.
“We’re having lunch together, right, Babe?” he asked his daughter.
“Oh, yes, Daddy. I’ll meet you in here.”
Simon gave her a kiss and left her to her secret. He walked purposefully back toward the office, past the main desk, where Logan stopped him
“More than you did,” Simon said.
Logan laughed. “Well that just shows where you’re wrong. Sally and I had a lovely time. Turns out she has a thing for me.”
“Well, duh. What was your first clue?” Simon said. “Don’t you hurt that girl. She can’t be more than twenty.”
“She’s twenty-three. And she’s going to have my babies. It’s good to pick a young, strong woman. I want to have ten kids.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. Stop talking like a lumberjack. Did you treat her like a lady?”
Logan sighed. “I did, my friend, until she jumped in my lap the minute I got in the car. Sally, it turns out, is quite limber.”
“You mean on the very first date you—”
Logan held up a hand, grandly. “I kissed her, that’s all. For a long time. And it was—nice.”
“Nice?” Simon’s tone was bitter. “You’re thirty-five years old and you sound like a junior high girl.”
“You just don’t understand.” Logan had the decency to turn red as Sally returned from an errand. “Let me find those for you, Simon, I know where they’re filed,” he improvised quickly, not wanting her to think he was discussing her. He gave Sally a quick caress across her golden hair before he darted around the desk. Simon saw Sally grinning down at the counter and felt a painful jolt of envy.
Logan accompanied him into the office. “Do you know what Sally told me? She said she collects butterflies. You know, statues and earrings and T-shirts. Anything with a butterfly on it. I asked her why, and she said she’d started when she was nine, and she told her mother that she wanted to be one. They were free, and they hung out in gardens, and they could fly. She said she couldn’t imagine anything nicer.”
Love, Lust, and The Lassiters Page 4
