“A favor? What?”
“I, uh, I wonder if you would look at some house plans for me. The farmhouse thing. You said you liked it when you were up at my place the other night. Remember?”
Certainly I remember. I can’t get it out of my mind. “Yes, the one like my aunt’s old place. I’d love to look at what you’re doing with it. You said you’d had the idea for it some time back. Did you find a client who wanted it after all?”
Jeff nodded. “Yes, I’m building it, or rather I’m about to. But you’ve lived in a similar house; I’d like to take advantage of your experience, let you look at it and tell me what worked well and what changes you—or maybe your aunt and her family—would have liked.” He hesitated. “It’s, it’s pretty important to me for this house to be perfect, or as close as a dreamer can make it.”
Planning it for one of the girls? It sounds as if his heart really is in the project, so I’ll bet it’s for one of them. “I’d love to look at it, Jeff. I don’t know if I have anything to offer, but I’d enjoy seeing what you have in mind.” Candace or Shelby would have suggested specific changes. Maybe it’s not for one of them. “But the people who are going to live there probably have pretty firm ideas about the way they want it. Don’t they?”
Jeff’s laugh seemed a little forced. “It’s being built sort of as a surprise, like a gift. That’s why I can’t ask directly. I have a rough idea about what the folks expect. And I’ve planned it a dozen times in my mind. Now I have the chance actually to build it, and I want it to be the best thing I’ve ever done. And I value your opinion in this particular instance.”
Definitely building it for one of his daughters, and I’d bet it’s for Shelby. I can’t see Candace in a country farmhouse. “Are you in something of the same position I’m in, dealing with your girls’ double wedding? Creating something very special without knowing very much about the people you’re doing it for?”
“I guess it is sort of the same thing.” They were back in town, and Jeff stopped at the intersection for a red light. “So you’ll look at the plans with me? Talk to me about your aunt’s place and help me with this project?”
“I’m delighted. When would you like to show me what you have in mind?”
“Tonight, if you can. It’s still early. What if I call and order a dinner we can pick up? Then we could go up to my place, eat, and take a look at what I’ve done so far.”
The party nibbles hadn’t qualified as dinner. Jeff’s suggestion made dinner and the chance to see his ideas unfold equally welcome. “Good idea. I’m too excited about your farmhouse to stop somewhere for dinner first.”
Once they were back in Jeff’s office conversion and out of their winter wraps, Lucinda could barely hold back her questions. She followed him to the galley kitchen, where Jeff set the cartons of Chinese take-out on the shiny breakfast bar, shed his suit jacket, and then searched through a couple of drawers to add lacquered chopsticks, red linen napkins, and small red plates and bowls for sauce to the meal preparations.
“Let’s eat first. Then we can go back to the office. It will be easier to show you what I have in mind with the plans in front of you.”
“I’m fairly dancing with impatience, but I see your point.” While she helped him put out dinner, she remembered she had a question for him about the wedding. “I didn’t tell you about my visit with the florist today. I think we’ve solved that quandary.” Over shrimp with lobster sauce, she described the butterfly bouquets with traditional touches for Candace and her party, and the same arrangement varied by wildflowers and a more rustic touch for Shelby’s group.
“Sounds like you’ve jumped a hazard, Lucinda.” He passed a carton of snow peas to her. “I don’t know much about flower arrangements, but what you describe seems fine.”
“I think it’s going to be manageable, but the florist did ask a question I couldn’t answer.”
She liked the funny way one corner of his mouth went up when he smiled, as if they shared a private joke. “I can’t believe anybody found something you couldn’t answer.”
“I don’t know what the father of the brides is planning to wear. We haven’t talked about it. You know the other men will be in either tuxedos or jeans and western shirts. Not exactly according to the etiquette books, but we’ll make it look all right. But which way are you going?”
His smile grew broader. “I have a perfectly good black tuxedo; it’s as comfortable as those things ever are. And I plan to wear it. I gave the girls all the leeway in the world with this affair. They’ll just have to go along with me on this one detail. I can’t see myself in either a rented tuxedo or casual jeans at my daughters’ wedding.”
Plans for the farmhouse waited until empty cartons were bundled into the garbage and dishes into the dishwasher before they adjourned to the office. With his sleeves rolled up and his desktop cleared, Jeff seemed ready to show off his ideas. Lucinda pushed her chair closer as he brought a cardboard cylinder to the desk and removed a bundle of pages.
“I do most of my house plans on CAD these days, and the computer programs I use are great, but I started thinking about this project so far back we didn’t have all the techno-gizmos to help us out. These are just ideas, for now. Nothing’s close enough to a finished stage to make final plans. But I thought you’d be able to see from these if I’m going in the right direction.” He pulled three smaller sheets free of the pack. “I’ve washed in some different color schemes for the exterior. All of them would work, but maybe one of them has more curb appeal than the others. What do you think?”
The three drawings, spread side by side and held down by glass paperweights, took the entire desktop. All three had charm and fit well with the railed porch and dormer windows, but one eclipsed the other two in her mind.
“Pretty, so very pretty, Jeff; any one of them would work.” She picked up one of the drawings and pushed the other two aside. “But this one, the greyish blue with the cream-and-coffee trim, this is the one I’d pick.”
He took the drawing from her. “Funny, I think this one is my favorite, too, but I wasn’t sure how a woman would see it.” He rolled out the rest of the sheets, showing her floor plans and elevations for the various rooms. With each new detail, Lucinda found herself more captivated by the house, a house Jeff had certainly poured his heart into designing. She couldn’t help being flattered he wanted her ideas and even asked her approval of some interior décor he planned to suggest to the client.
At last he rolled the sheets up and slipped them into the cylinder. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this evening, Lucinda. You have such a good eye for detail, and your background, both in design and personal experience, is invaluable.”
“It was a pleasure. I simply love the plans and what you’re doing with every room. I hope the people who will be living there enjoy all the special touches you’ve added. The windowseats and built-in corner display cabinets in the dining room especially give the house charm.” She sat back in the rolling chair and shivered when the chilly leather touched her bare skin above the plunging back of her dress. She sat up straight, briskly rubbing chill bumps along her bare arms.
He glanced up from putting away his drawings. “You’re cold, Lucinda. I hadn’t realized the temperature in here had dropped. Come into my study, where it’s warmer. Would you like a glass of wine? Or I could make coffee?”
“Coffee? Yes, great.” She slipped on her high-heeled pumps, hoping Jeff hadn’t noticed she’d eased them off as they looked at the house plans. “Can I help?”
“No, no, there’s nothing to do. The coffeemaker is ready. All I do is push one button and wait.” He opened a door on the far side of the credenza. “Go on into the study and get warm. I’ll bring the coffee in a minute.” He held the door, waiting. “You should have said something about the chill in here. Pretty as your dress is, I don’t think it’s much protection against February evenings, especially when the host gets so carried away building air castles he forgets to turn up the
heat.”
Lucinda followed his invitation into the next room. Bleak as the office area had been, the study made up for it. A deep sofa in burgundy leather, a matching wing chair, and thick champagne gold carpet and drapes made the room not only inviting but restful. The dim light slowly brightened at Jeff’s touch. She noticed a wall of well-filled bookcases and the closed doors of an entertainment center.
“Make yourself at home.” He took a fleecy afghan from the back of the chair and shook it loose. “This will warm you up. Take off your shoes and curl up on the sofa. I’ll be in with coffee in a minute.” He draped the afghan over her, and its light warmth helped immediately. He tapped another wall switch and subdued music filled the room.
“This is a wonderful room.” She sank deeper into the lush cushions of the inviting sofa and pulled the blanket close. “I can see the man who dreams up those fabulous houses living here.”
“Everybody needs a home base, Lucinda. This is pretty limited, but it’s been my refuge for quite a while.” He excused himself to see to the coffee and left her alone. The feeling of being welcomed and wrapped in delicious comfort stayed with her as the door closed behind him.
She didn’t have very long to absorb the ambience of the room before Jeff returned with a tray holding elegant black-and-gold coffee mugs and matching serving pieces. She noticed he’d put on a nubby beige alpaca sweater while he was out. I’m not the only one feeling the night chill.
He set the tray on the parquet table beside the sofa. “I believe you take sugar but no cream, right?”
Lucinda accepted the mug he offered. “Thank you. It’s wonderful.” She sighed at the first sip.
He settled himself at the other end of the sofa, one leg tucked under him and his coffee within reach on the small side table. “You look nice curled up on my sofa, pretty girl. And you look more relaxed than I’ve ever seen you.”
“I’ve had such a lovely evening.” Lucinda rarely gave herself free time. This evening had been a special occasion, an indulgence. She felt wonderfully pampered in the warm, peaceful study. She caught a calming hint of citrus and sandalwood fragrance in the room, blending with the rich perfume of French roast rising from her cup. She breathed in the heady combination. Cushioned in luxurious leather, with a cloudlike blanket over her, soothed by muted violins, Lucinda felt a languorous ease steal over her. “I envy you. It must be wonderful to have a peaceful place like this to come back to.”
“It is, but it’s better when you have someone to share it with.”
Somehow Jeff had moved from his end of the sofa to hers without Lucinda realizing it. He took her mug out of her hand and put it aside. “You’re much too smart, too lovely, to spend every evening alone or at someone else’s celebration. That’s a lonely life you’ve carved out for yourself, lady. Don’t you get tired of watching other women walk down the aisle?”
Lucinda tilted her head back into the deep cushions and looked up at him. His grey eyes were soft with care and kindness. “It’s not bad, Jeff. I’m alone, yes, but not really lonely. So many people come through my shop, I cherish the little bits of time I have by myself. And I love seeing dreams come true for my clients, helping it happen when I can. It’s enough.”
“Is it?” The firm touch, a hand slipping between her back and the sofa cushion, felt almost familiar. As did the change in position when he shifted her from her lounging posture to draw her to his side, tucking the afghan over her. As if she’d done it a dozen times, she curled against him, her head easy on his shoulder. “Is it enough, Lucinda? Or are there times when the need to share a moment, to feel safe with someone, or the longing to open your heart is almost more than you can tolerate?”
She couldn’t deny it, not here in this place apart from her world and not to a man who’d seen past her carefully erected walls. “There are times, times when I’m almost jealous…”
“Almost?”
“Maybe more than ‘almost’—a little more. Times when I begrudge other women the lives they have and treat so casually.”
The touch of his lips against her hair and the scent of him filling her senses were like a drug in her veins. She let his comforting presence settle around her. “And why hasn’t it ever been you, Lucinda? Why have you not been the one in the misty veil, shimmering in white, making those forever-and-ever promises?”
She sighed. Pretending she’d never longed for that scene for herself was pointless. “Because I fell in love with a man who broke off our engagement to marry my best friend. It was the first time I thought I’d found the happily-ever-after magic but hadn’t. And the second time, I learned a man who says he’ll be forever loyal doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll be faithful, too. He may only mean he’ll be discreet about his harem.”
Lucinda pushed back the hair that had fallen across her face and looked up at Jeff. “I think you could say I don’t have much of a track record when it comes to picking the men in my life. I decided to quit before I made a mistake I couldn’t correct.”
“You’re less vulnerable, I suppose. Empty inside, but less likely to be torn apart by betrayal.” His wandering fingers ruffled her hair. “Still, a time comes when helping someone else fulfill a dream just isn’t enough. You want to find a dream of your own. Most of us do, anyway, Lucinda. Don’t you have a dream still waiting out there somewhere?”
“Mmmm, not for a long time.” The nap of his alpaca sweater, and his shoulder under it, pillowed her cheek. “Most of my dreams center on making sure the wedding cake doesn’t turn into expensive crumbs before it arrives at the reception, or keeping the groomsmen sober enough to get down the aisle. I have nightmares about gowns getting ripped or candles catching veils on fire.” She leaned back, secure in the two arms wrapped around her. “And too, I see enough mismatched couples, couples I know with every fiber in my being will not be together in five years. It’s enough to cancel any leanings I have in that direction. Especially after my own two near misses.”
“What about”—his lips stroked hers—“what about the part of Lucinda that needs to feel someone else cares about her dreams and desires? What about the hollow moment in the small hours of the morning when you reach out and no one is there? And the long, dark hours alone, when no one listens to your hopes and ideas but you need someone to share them?” His words were murmurings against her cheek, so soft they might have been only in her own head.
She closed her eyes and wished she could deny she had such moments, but his words described the barren age between midnight and dawn perfectly. “You know, don’t you? You’ve been there, alone at three in the morning, no way to go back to sleep and your head spinning with all the wrong choices you’ve ever made.” She forced herself to sit up and face him squarely. “It’s all you say, and more besides, but it’s better than settling for a life that’s only a bad imitation of what you truly want.” She heard the doubts in her own words. “Isn’t it?”
“Yes, Lucinda, it’s better, but it’s not the best.”
She glanced at her watch, surprised by how quickly the hours had gone. “It’s late, Jeff, and I have a full day tomorrow. And a wedding rehearsal probably straight out of Barnum and Bailey, complete with clowns. I need to go home.”
He stood, lifted the afghan, and held out a hand to help her out of the deep cushions. “I have a pretty full day tomorrow myself. Can we have lunch?”
She thought of her schedule and, with sincere regret, shook her head. “Wish I could, Jeff, but I don’t think lunch is even on my agenda tomorrow.”
“Saturday?”
“Not likely.” She gripped his hand while slipping her shoes on. “I have to be at the church early in the morning to assist the florist. And I’ll be there until I can shoo the last giddy guest out the door. Fortunately it’s a downtown church and not someplace sixty miles out in the country.”
“Then you might be finished sometime in the evening?”
Lucinda remembered her previous encounters with the family and bridal party. “We can hope,
but it’s not likely. They tend to be a little, um, call it rowdy, in their celebrations. It may take a while to wind things down.”
She followed him back into the office and waited while he gathered their wraps. Her black fleece cape felt heavy as he slipped it over her. His hands rested briefly on the shoulders, then turned her to face him.
“Listen, Miss Weddings Incorporated. If this Barnum and Bailey event winds up any time before midnight, or even later, and you haven’t had dinner, you give me a call. I’ll come over and see you eat, at least. It sounds as if you may need sustenance and a post to lean on by the time you finish. So call me? Will you?”
“Thank you, Jeff. I’ll call if it’s not too late. Thanks for the offer.”
Chapter 5
The wedding from hell!
No, that didn’t even begin to describe it. Somewhere between discovering the bride’s family and the groom’s family could make the West Side Story Jets and Sharks look like pacifists and reminding the minister that no matter how late the hour, they really couldn’t begin the wedding without the groom, Lucinda resigned herself to “one of those weddings” where nothing goes according to plan. So when the bride casually mentioned the bridesmaids’ dresses had been “shortened” and the soloist couldn’t quite handle “Ave Maria” and they were using another piece of music, she shrugged and simply reminded herself it was the wedding the bride wanted.
With the bridesmaids posed on the altar steps in dresses so short their black lace thongs were visible from the front pew, and the soloist giving her whole heart to “Nobody Does It Better,” Lucinda shook her head and turned her efforts to the three-year-old flower girl waiting to scatter petals over the aisle runner. She wasn’t actually surprised when the child got to the end of the aisle, toiled up the altar steps on short, sturdy legs, turned, saw the crowd, and began screaming at the top of her lungs, “I want my Mama! I want my Mama!”
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